“Damn.”
A male voice rang out from in front of them and they both flinched reflexively. The words were in Russian.
“You’re on Ukrainian soil. You have no right to cross the border. Return to your side or you’ll be fired upon.”
Yulia cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled to the speaker, “We’re Ukrainian. The Russians are chasing us. They’re right behind us.”
The man spoke again. “I was addressing the Russian patrol, not you.” He stepped into view, in full battle dress, the insignia of a Ukrainian army captain on his helmet. “Russians: you’ll be cut down without any further warning if you don’t return to your side immediately. There are twenty guns on you. You have no chance.”
“We are in pursuit of two escaped prisoners involved in the deaths of four policemen,” one of the Russians called back.
“You are on Ukrainian soil. Leave, or die,” the captain said. “No more discussion.”
A tense silence met the captain’s final words, and then the barking of the dog diminished as the border patrol returned to Russia, their lives not worth forfeiting in a pointless clash. The captain watched them go and then turned to Yulia and Jet.
“Toss the gun where I can see it. I’m taking you into custody. If what the Russians say is true, they have the right to apply for extradition.”
“Before you do, I’d advise you to call a phone number and speak to my commanding officer,” Yulia said, steel in her voice. Jet tossed the pistol aside and raised her hands so no itchy trigger fingers made a mistake that would end her life.
“Your commanding officer?” the captain repeated, surprised.
“That’s right. You might know him. Colonel Vyhovsky.”
The captain’s face changed at the mention of the name, and he nodded slowly. “I have a field radio. I’ll have them patch through a call. In the meantime, let’s get out of here just in case the Russians decide to prove a point with one of their helicopters.”
Chapter 45
Kharkiv, Ukraine
A gray sedan stopped at the gate of a compound on the outskirts of Kharkiv, and an armed guard in jeans and a windbreaker approached the driver’s side window from the gatehouse. The driver explained the purpose of the trip, and the guard walked over to his shack and spoke into his radio. A minute later, he returned and raised the barrier.
“Over there by the long building will be fine,” Yulia said to the driver, indicating the closest structure with a wave of her hand from the passenger seat. The car coasted to a halt, and Yulia turned to Jet on the rear bench seat. “End of the line.”
Jet nodded and stepped from the back onto hard-packed dirt, the late-afternoon sun warming her skin. She took in her surroundings without comment, noting that the gathering of structures didn’t look anything like the bases she had spent time on. There were only a few people in evidence, all clad in civilian clothing. There were no military vehicles, no soldiers, no markings to identify the buildings. To her eye it could have been any industrial complex in any of thousands of business parks around the globe.
“You sure we’re in the right place?” Jet asked.
Yulia laughed. “Absolutely. But we don’t stand on a lot of formality in this division. We’re the equivalent of military intelligence, so we keep a low profile.”
“Intelligence?”
“That’s right. It’s the reason that we were so desperate to get out of jail. It was only a matter of time before even the Russians figured this one out. They thought we were some kind of paramilitary pro-government support group, but that would have only held up for so long. Eventually someone with a brain would have shown up asking tough questions, and I couldn’t trust that my men wouldn’t crack.”
“Well, it worked. At least the getting us out part. Not so much on the rest of it.”
“That was out of our hands. A different organization with more reach in Russia. Our influence largely ends at the border. Theirs…is more global.”
“So, not Ukrainian.”
“No.”
“Why would they help you?”
“There are a lot of interests that would like to see the post-coup, anti-Russian government succeed. Their enemy happens to be our enemy.” She shrugged. “One hand washes the other, isn’t that the expression?”
“Something like that. But your mission was a failure, wasn’t it?”
“Unfortunately, it was. Four good men lost for nothing.”
“So now what do you do?”
“What we have always done. We move forward.”
Yulia pushed a door open and showed Jet to a small room with a bed and attached bathroom. “It’s not much, but it’s better than prison.”
“You don’t have to do this. I can find my own way.”
“You’re in my backyard. I insist.”
Jet fixed Yulia with a neutral stare. “I’m fine. All I need is a little money and some papers, and I can move on. You’re back on home turf. It’s a win all around.”