“True America?”
Rich didn’t answer right away, which confirmed what Devin had suspected. Either Karl or Rich had had a hand in whatever had happened to True America. Possibly both of them.
“What did Karl tell you about True America?”
“He said it was a story for another time,” said Devin.
“Well. I’ll let him decide when that time arrives,” said Rich.
Devin let it go for now. He was too tired to pursue a dead-end conversation. Marnie put her head on his shoulder and held his hand, the two of them drifting asleep in the company of two shadowy mercenaries they’d barely known for forty-eight hours. Not coincidentally the same amount of time he’d been awake. Devin didn’t resist the sandman. He had a feeling Rich’s idea of rest would amount to an hour-long nap while they waited for him to wake up. He’d have to take whatever sleep he could get, whenever he could take it.
CHAPTER 56
Felix Orlov crawled up the muddy shore and shrugged off his rucksack, exhausted from the long swim. He rolled onto his back and rested in the fetid sludge, staring at the clear night sky. The fire raging across the lake flickered at the bottom of his field of vision. After he’d caught his breath, he turned his head to see who else had washed up on shore with him. One lay in the muck about forty feet away, where the lake broke off into a cove. He couldn’t tell if they were facedown or on their back. Another clambered out of the water between them and dropped flat. Ksenia, judging by the longer hair. Just two?
He propped himself up on his elbows to scan the lake. The third slogged through the water about fifty feet out, kicking and splashing hard enough to suggest panic. That had to be Lashev. The sniper had spent more time trying to convince them to somehow paddle one of the half-sunken pontoon boats across the lake rather than fessing up that he could barely swim. None of them had wanted to abandon most of their gear and swim several hundred yards to an unfamiliar shore, but the M249 machine gun Felix had chosen to leave in the helicopter had made the decision for them.
And staying on the other side of the lake, trusting their fate to whoever called that camp home, wasn’t a viable option. Not after the small war that had been waged out there for close to fifteen minutes, not to mention the helicopter explosion that had probably rattled windows and set off car alarms for miles. The police would be all over this place soon, the several-story-high bonfire rising above the treetops serving as their beacon. The team was better off on their own, which meant a long swim.
Felix got up on wobbly legs and reentered the water, wading halfway to his struggling colleague, before he could no longer feel the bottom of the lake. He sidestroked the rest of the way and made the mistake of approaching Lashev directly. Like all terrified swimmers in a near-drowning situation, his teammate instinctively grabbed on to Felix the moment he arrived, intent on dragging him to the bottom, too. He pounded Lashev’s face a few times, stunning him long enough to implement a forced-rescue hold—and start swimming.
He dragged Lashev to waist-high water and let go. The operative thrashed for a few seconds before realizing he could stand. He immediately waded to shore and sat next to Ksenia. Oleg got up from his spot near the break in the shoreline and plopped down beside Lashev.
“No rest for the wicked,” said Felix, trudging out of the water. “We need to steal a boat or a car and get the hell out of here. I’m leaning toward one of the covered docks we spotted inside the cove. Less chance of getting shot trespassing. Most Americans are more heavily armed than the police.”
“I saw tire tracks near the cove entrance,” said Oleg. “Looks like they lead in the direction of the docks.”
“Can’t they just drive our Jeeps over from the airport?” asked Ksenia.
“The people watching over our gear and Jeeps back at the hangar have been diverted to evacuate the camp burning across the lake,” said Felix. “They moved everything away from the hangar, because the helicopters will eventually be traced back to the airport—but that’s all I know. They’ll contact us when they can spare the personnel to reunite us with our vehicles. Until then, I want to get as far from here as possible.”
Felix grabbed his backpack and tossed it in front of the group. He’d volunteered to carry the fifteen-to twenty-pound bag because he was a strong swimmer—and didn’t think anyone else would make it across with the equivalent of an anchor strapped to their back. Boots, socks, pistols, and ammunition. The essentials. He’d sealed his satellite phone and wallet in a waterproof bag and stuffed it in one of his cargo pockets.