By Amy J. Fetzer
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That was pretty,” Max said through the PRR. ” Sebastian glanced back, then rushed right as brick and stone hailed down. Screams mixed with the explosion, and he saw one man go flying along with pieces of iron. Then he spotted the gray-bellied drone and searched for cover. There was none, the barren land bleak with ice. They ran. Sebastian didn’t need a guide. He’d memorized the terrain and he splashed through a creek between jagged rocks as he fixed the commlink in his ear and hailed Base again.
The MiG would spot it, but the chopper had to get in fast and not waste time searching for them. The scream of the approaching jet grew closer. The chopper traveled low in the rocky valley, hopping on air currents and nearly falling out of the sky. Then it stabilized and lowered. The blades beat back the scrub trees, kicked up a flurry of snow. The team rushed forward, Mills limping, and Sam hefted him in a fireman’s carry, running as the helicopter hovered over the ground. Logan hung on the skids, giving Killian commands as he reached for the first man.
It was their only link inside enemy lines. Why he was taken was still a mystery, but it didn’t matter. He needed rescuing. If he was still alive. Russians weren’t known for their mercy. But seizing an American businessman on his vacation in front of his young family stirred up tension across the region. It should have brought tons of help, but no government would lend aid to locate the hostage inside Chechnya. It was stepping into a war zone. S. intel said information was sketchy and that a rescue was too dicey.