Odenko grabbed his shoulder. “Scan three hundred and sixty degrees. We have no idea what we’re dealing with!” He struggled to yell over the wind.
Private Marakev lowered his night vision and squeezed by to take charge of the machine gun, relieving Odenko of his duty to protect the command vehicle from immediate threat. Odenko dropped into the rear compartment of the Tiger and took the handset from his lieutenant.
“Two Four, this is Alpha Zulu actual. What is your status? Over.”
“This is Two Four. I sent two men on foot to investigate Tiger tracks heading toward the river. They had just reported finding one of the Tigers when the explosion occurred. I’ve lost contact!” the sergeant said frantically.
“Sergeant, take a deep breath, and get a hold of yourself. My unit will investigate the explosion and bring back your men. Stay alert and watch the road. This could be a diversion of some sort. Out.”
“Master Sergeant, get us over to the explosion. Lieutenant, I need you topside with your rifle.”
He popped back through the hatch just as their Tiger started to slow to make the turn at the checkpoint. Through the pitch-dark night, he could make out the shapes of both soldiers on top of Two Four’s Tiger. His driver gingerly dropped them onto the shoulder and pointed the Tiger in the direction of the treeline. Odenko lowered his night vision goggles and immediately saw the bright green glow of a burning vehicle through the trees. The Tiger moved forward slowly.
“Watch your targets. We have two friendlies in the immediate vicinity of the explosion,” Odenko said.
“Yes, sir,” the private replied, scanning the darkness with the machine gun.
Odenko lowered himself into the vehicle just as the lieutenant arrived at the hatch, tightly gripping an AK-74.
“You cover any direction Marakev isn’t watching,” he said, adjusting the young officer’s night vision goggles and patting him on the shoulder.
He had no idea what they were headed into behind the rapidly approaching tree line, but as a reconnaissance battalion, scouting the unknown was their primary mission, and he was excited to finally do what he had trained a lifetime to do. He just hadn’t expected his vehicle to lead the way on the battalion’s first combat reconnaissance mission since he’d taken command two years earlier. If he’d known this ahead of time, he would have put a few more experienced soldiers on the guns of his Tiger.
Chapter 60
Farrington stared intensely through the night vision goggles at the featureless green road ahead of them. The chilly night air blasted his face through the missing windshield, pelting his cheeks and neck with stinging pebbles. A small price to pay for a better off road vehicle and armor that could stop most small arms fire. He strained to see as far ahead as possible and make what little sense he could of the deeply rutted dirt road.
Travelling at thirty-five miles per hour along this confusing jumble of jeep trails for the past twenty minutes had put them into the trees twice, costing them precious time. He desperately wanted to avoid any more involuntary off-road trips, but he had no intention of slowing down any further. He needed to close the distance to the border while they were alone on the roads. Once they started to attract company, travel would become perilous and require more caution, which was why they had detoured slightly from his original plan twenty minutes earlier and found themselves on these miserable trails.
They had just completed a shortcut through a small hamlet of dirt roads and corrugated tin huts called Verkh Payva, in an attempt to link up with a road that could support another high-speed run. They hadn’t seen a single light in the village as they sped through at seventy miles per hour. Every small settlement they’d encountered west of Highway 380 had been the same — eerily quiet and dark, just the way he liked it.
His original plan had been to travel north of the town and continue on what had turned out to be a reliable jeep trail, but he had become hopelessly addicted to travelling at seventy miles per hour. They’d already made up the time lost at the checkpoint and gained a few minutes on their exfiltration deadline. The road they sought through the thick trees and washed-out trails ran for fifty miles to the town of Znamenka, on the northern tip of Lake Kulunda. If he could hit sixty miles per hour on the road ahead, he could gain more time. Based on Sanderson’s last report, elements of the 21st Motor Rifle Division had started to set up roadblock positions in the towns closest to the border. Znamenka was thirty miles from the border, so he didn’t anticipate anything more than local law enforcement.
The Tiger’s chassis crunched and shook as they hit a sizable washout along the road, seriously testing the vehicle’s supposedly undefeatable suspension system. He wasn’t sure how many times they could plow over a downed tree or crash through a washout at forty-five miles per hour before they threw an axle or bent a pin, disabling the vehicle permanently.
“You can slow down if you see stuff like that,” Farrington said, “no point in walking the rest of the way.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m not sure how much more this thing can take,” Misha said from behind the wheel.
Farrington’s satellite phone rang, and he plugged it into his communications rig.
“What are we looking at?” Farrington answered.
“I noticed you took a little detour,” Sanderson said.
“I’m going to make up some time on the road between Verkh Sayva and Znamenka,” Farrington said.
“Just be careful. The 121st Recon battalion started moving west a few minutes ago, which means they found the ambushed Tiger. You bought some extra time with the booby traps, but they know you’re headed west. High-profile roads might not be the best idea. The 21st Motor Rifle Division will respond accordingly and likely expand east from the border area. We can’t track all of these units.”
“I understand. Has the 21st shown any movement?”
“Negative, but it won’t be long, and you have a Border Guard barracks in the area. They know the area better than you do. If there’s a quick way to get to that road you’re taking, they’ll show the 21st the way. We’ll keep a close eye on Znamenka.”
“That’s all we can do. Two hours and this is over,” Farrington said.
“And there’s no wiggle room. Berg is worried that the White House might yank the helos early if things get too hot. We still have a few cards to play, but I don’t have a trump card this time,” Sanderson said.
“Understood. Is Black Rain still online?”
“Affirmative. ETA 0425 over Lake Kulunda. We’ll track your progress and adjust accordingly. It looks like you’ll be past the lake by 0425, so we might head it straight to your position. That should shave a few minutes off the ETA.”
“I think that’s the best plan. I’d send it to Slavgorod,” Farrington said.
“You’re not punching through Slavgorod.”
“I’m not planning on that, but I estimate that we’ll be somewhere northwest of Slavgorod at that point. At least I hope so. If not, we’re fucked.”
Slavgorod was fifteen miles from the border, but not directly connected to Kazakhstan by a major road. Hundreds of jeep trails and unmarked dirt roads snaked west into the fields and rolling hills, crisscrossing and emptying directly into Kazakhstan. They anticipated a sizable military presence in Slavgorod, so the plan was to run well north of the city through the myriad trails winding through trees, streams and mild gradients. Once they reached a point less than a mile from the border, they would turn due west and take the Tiger on a true off-road journey, relying on Berg and Sanderson to avoid any final patrols. If they hadn’t swung past Slavgorod by 4:25, they were unlikely to reach the border in time for pickup, especially travelling north of the city.