Chapter Seven

I sat on the edge of the bed in the darkness for what seemed like hours, bent over, my pistol in my hand, and head drooped toward my knees. I tried to wipe those visions from my head and, was able to push them back into the recesses of my mind. The light filtered in through the cracks in the blinds as the sun started to peak above the hillside and cast its rays into the treetops surrounding the cabin. Too many years spent at the same routine had made sleeping late into the morning difficult for me, sometimes waking in a cold sweat and hyper-alert, like today, and other times, waking disoriented and the memories a foggy visage.

Jake looked up at me, comfortable as he lay on the thick rug by the bed. He rose to his feet and stretched, and I did the same, the years catching up with me, causing my joints to pop, and muscles to protest at the premature movement. With all the recent activity, I felt all the aches, bruises, cuts, along with the unwelcome, but now healing hole, in my left bicep. That round had done a number, and my body wasn't taking to the invasion, but I was fortunate. I could've lost the use of my arm or worse, bled to death.

I decided I would do a little surveying around the area to learn the lay of the land. God forbid if I was caught by surprise on foot. I was unfamiliar with the terrain except what I had seen around the cabin and up the hill.

Most hunters would agree a natural scent was best for the outdoors, but I wasn't hunting anything and needed to clean up. I tend to sweat a lot under stress, and I reeked. With no shower, I would clean up the old fashion way, but I wasn't going to do it without some warm water. I dressed and walked out to the shed, tossed one of the five-gallon jugs of water on my shoulder, and carried it inside. Mother Nature wasn't going to get her jollies by having me running around naked outside, plus there were bears.

I fired up the propane stove and filled the biggest pot I could find with a couple gallons of water. The weather wasn't too bad out, chilly in the evenings and mornings, so the water wasn't frigid. I plugged the sink and dumped the remainder of the water in it for my birdbath. As the water warmed, I fixed a pot of coffee and sat down to smoke. The generator never strained on anything I did, and I hadn't needed to change the propane cylinder yet. Jake scratched at the door, I looked over at the laptop, didn't see anything within the perimeter, and let him out. I could keep an eye on him from in here if he didn't leave sight of the cameras.

Viktor had been thoughtful and left some basic toiletries for me. The water came to a boil, and I dumped it into the sink to mix with the cold. I stripped down, threw a towel on the floor to catch the water, and tossed my dirty clothes near the bed. I removed the bandage from my arm and checked the wound. No sign of infection and it was healing well. I pulled a washcloth and soap from the shelf, washed up and then rinsed off. It felt good to be clean again. I glanced at the monitors and Jake was laying in the yard, watching the road. He looked relaxed, so I ignored him and finished drying off.

Even though my arm was healing well, I didn't want to take any chances and wrapped it with fresh gauze and tape. Not bad for an amateur. I pulled a new set of clothes from my backpack and tossed my dirty ones in the sink. I would wash them after I had my coffee. The fact I had a "shower" before my coffee was a testament to how gross I felt. I had never been one to shy away from getting dirty, downright filthy most of the time, but I hated staying that way for long periods, even in the middle of nowhere.

Sitting naked and having a cup of coffee and a smoke in the middle of nowhere can be quite liberating until you spill hot coffee on your nether regions, which is what I did. Jake decided it would be funny to try to open the door himself by lunging against it. I hadn't been paying attention to the monitors, so the noise startled me, and caused me to spill a half a cup of scalding coffee on my balls. I threw my cigarette on the bed, almost causing a fire. Fuck was the word heard round the world that morning. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, cursing at the top of my lungs the entire time, and poured it all over my crotch. It helped a little, and I was careful as I dabbed myself with the towel. Walking would prove entertaining for the rest of the day. A scratching noise came from the door, and I opened it. Sitting there was Jake, and I could have sworn he smiled at me.

Asshole.

I got dressed, squirted some soap in the sink and proceeded to wash the stench from the two-day worn clothes. I rinsed them, rung them out, and hung them up to dry. Time for more coffee, except, this time, clothed.

Taking a long drag of my cigarette and sipping my coffee, I stared at the topographical map Viktor had put on the back wall. It showed hilly terrain around the back of the cabin, with the hill I had climbed as one of the highest points. The land sloped down from the cabin back to the road, about thirty degrees, from what I could determine. Viktor hadn't chosen this place by accident. The field of view from the hill was exceptional. I could see for miles in all directions, except for the path from the cabin to the road. I decided to reconnoiter the trail and about 100 meters on either side. It was the logical way in, and I had to learn the terrain.

I threw on my boots, taped a few mags together with electrical tape to double stack them, making them easier to carry and pushed them into my pockets. I grabbed the SCAR, slipped my notepad into my cargo pockets, and holstered my pistol. The SCAR had saved our asses yesterday, and with bears around, I wouldn't be without it today. I had 120 rounds of 7.62 and 45 rounds of 9mm. I hoped I wouldn't need any. I started to the left of the cabin and swept back through, using a cross-grain search pattern, marking the area off into a grid and memorizing the terrain between the cabin and the road. I jotted down the areas which could provide me with either cover and/or concealment in case anyone decided to show up unannounced. I didn't handle surprises well. I walked another 50 meters on the other side of the road, looking for hiding places and potential fields of fire from various points. The brush was dense, shielding the view of the cabin from the road. A few effective fields of fire existed by the roadside which was to my advantage. I hadn't detected anyone passing by, so I felt safer, but safety was relative. Four hours elapsed, combing through the underbrush, marking key points in my notes and on my map, and I was getting hungry. I was sure Jake, having followed me the entire morning, was feeling it as well. We jumped back on the path, on the main road, and headed back to the cabin.

I poured some food into a bowl for Jake and made myself an MRE and had a cold beer, thank God for the fridge. After eating, I sat down and mapped the area I had surveyed, comparing it to the topographical map for reference. I was dead-on with my grid calculations with most of what I had surmised about the lay of the land, but now I had details. If I were going to be here longer, I would stash some weapons at critical locations around the property. I hoped that wouldn't be the case, and I would leave in a few days. I rolled up my small map and stuck it in my pocket.

I picked up my gear and headed out the back and up the hill to the ridgeline. I wanted to check in with Diego and Mary. I didn't need to call Viktor. One less possibility of exposure.

As I reached the top, I took a few moments to admire the surrounding countryside, the waves of trees and rolling hills, offering such peace and tranquility. Under any other circumstances, time spent here would've been enjoyable for us. We enjoyed the outdoors, and the boys always had a blast when we went camping. Maybe one day. I pulled the phone from my pocket and got one bar.

Good enough.

I dialed Diego first for a sitrep, a term I hadn't used in a long time. When we were on active duty, situation reports were a regular occurrence. He answered in his usual manner and told me they were all safe. He received word from his NSA contact that there was a lot of chatter from the Russians about me; they were on the hunt and had a lot of resources deployed looking for me. Killing the boss man's nephew was their driving force. Killing the other five had added fuel to their fire.

"Listen, bro, what I know is you stepped in it deep. Up to the fuckin' neck. Those Russians are pissed, and they're not going to stop until they kill you and/or your family. We'll do what we can, but if they come in at full force, it's going to be rough. Be careful! Out."

I called Mary. "John, are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. My arm is healing up, Jake and I are in a safe place, and Viktor's supposed to contact me in the next day or so. Other than having to kill a bear, it has been quiet here. We have to make this quick so no one can track us, but tell me how you and the boys are holding up?"

"We're fine, the boys think this is an adventure. We haven't left where we are, which hasn't made my parents happy, but Bobby has been making runs for us. I don't think anyone knows we're here. Diego is making sure we're safe."

"Let's keep it that way. No calls to anyone other than Diego or me. I'll be in touch in a couple of days. Give the boys hugs and kisses for me. I love you. Gotta go," and waited for her to hang up.

I turned off the phone. I hated that we had to keep our conversations so short, but even with burner phones, the new technologies such as voice recognition could trace calls. If these Russians had any access to that kind of technology, it would not take them long to figure out where we all were.

With nothing better to do after I had gotten the lay of the land, I took the time to disassemble and clean all the weapons. I had done it countless times, and it was a mindless but therapeutic exercise. After I put all the extra weapons away, I stored mine back in the SUV. I kept my pistol, the SCAR, and AK-74 machine pistols at my disposal, with extra magazines for each.

I thought about Mary and the boys. She was having a hard time adapting to this, but she was making it. The boys were a different story. Although she was doing her best to keep them entertained, I was sure they were having a rough go of it without me present.

Mary's parents had never approved of us, but over the years, they began to accept my presence, if nothing else. I took care of Mary and the boys, and never got in the way of them seeing the boys--that's what mattered to them. We were not on a buddy-buddy level, and I was ok with that. I didn't marry them.

I had never wanted the boys to learn about my past. I had kept it hidden and never talked about my time in the military in front of them, but now it was in their face, and after the news reported I killed two people, they must think me some kind of monster. The same man, who preached to them that violence never solved anything, was a stone-cold killer, a hypocrite. How would I ever recover from this with them? My heart ached for my boys, having the knowledge they did.

Jake's growling snapped me out of my stupor. I must have drifted off, and I cursed myself for losing focus.

Damn it. Now's not the time.

I glanced over at the laptop and scanned the screens. The cameras showed no movement. The sun was starting to set, the light filtering down through the treetops, making it difficult for the cameras to remain in the right mode. If there was something out there, I couldn't see it.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Jake continued to growl and started scratching at the door. This wasn't a bathroom break. I had my knife on my leg, grabbed the SCAR and a couple of magazines, strapped the machine pistols ever my shoulders, shoved two grenades in my jacket pocket, told Jake to stay, and cracked open the door. Something with lights was coming up the path, but they were near the road. I had less than thirty seconds to hide. I ran around back, killed the generator and the clearing went dark. If I couldn't see, neither could they. As soon as the lights went out, the two vehicles came to a stop about 100 meters from the cabin. I doubted Viktor would bring anyone with him, so I prepared myself for someone else. I was going to shoot first and ask questions later.

Jake stayed at my side, a deep growl coming from within. I whispered to him to lay down and remain quiet, and he did. I whispered stay and went to walk away. He didn't move. I would thank Mary for that one. Cutting to the left side of the clearing, I made my way to the tree line and remembered the two large thickets on the east side of the path. Though not offering me cover, the thickets, unable to stop bullets, would provide excellent concealment. Numerous medium and small trees along their route created blind spots to the vehicles. These blind spots would allow me stealthier movement and decrease the chances of being spotted. I wasn't sure what they were expecting but leaving the lights on was an amateurish move. These guys weren't pros, so I stood at least half a chance.

As I got closer, voices, all in Russian, echoed through the wood. The didn't care about being quiet. I saw the interior of the first vehicle. It was a large SUV, meant for some intense off-road use. In the back seat, with a gun to his head was none other than Viktor.

Shit!

How did that happen? Viktor wasn't careless and certainly wasn't one to talk. I was sure, if they had gotten any information, they did a lot to get it out of him. I watched as a man approached the far side of the vehicle with what looked like an AK-47 and pointed it through the window at Viktor's head. Viktor slid out the driver's side passenger door. From what I could see, his face looked banged up. They had done a number on him.

I kept my profile low and moved in closer. I counted four bad guys near the first vehicle, and from what I could tell, three more were near the second.

Why weren't they moving in?

I had missed one.

A stick cracked behind me as the figure stepped near. I was so caught up with everything in front of me, I had forgotten to check my six. The asshole had snuck up on me. I spun, dropping the SCAR and yanked the knife, a small six-inch tanto blade, from the sheath on my waist. He moved in with his pistol pointed at me. He didn't expect the knife as I spun. I lunged at him, knocked his arm aside, and stepped in. In rapid succession, I jack-hammered my blade into his torso. He struggled with the multiple knife wounds I had inflicted on his gut, and his involuntary muscle reactions caused his pistol to fire. I slammed the knife home into his neck, shredding his carotid and jugular. He would not walk away from this.

Now they knew my position and fired in my direction. It was getting dark fast, so they had little chance of hitting me with the lights in their eyes. I crouched, snatched the SCAR from the ground and hot-footed it back into the denser part of the woods, circling further toward the road to flank them.

Having control over Viktor gave them the advantage. I couldn't take them out without a guarantee nothing would happen to him. I didn't want to endanger him more than he was, but he knew the rules. We didn't negotiate with terrorists, hostages or not. They didn't know the rules and called out my name.

"John Hunter," came a voice in English with a heavy Russian accent, "we have your friend. If you don't stop, I will kill him now."

A few more words in Russian, and then Viktor spoke, "John, they have my wife and daughter."

What the hell? They got his wife and kid. What the fuck am I going to do now?

My family was involved, and because he tried to help, his was too. The Russians would do anything to draw me out.

"All they want to do is talk."

I had some thinking to do, and I had to do it fast. If someone had my wife and children, I would say anything to save their life.

Another voice spoke, "We know where your wife and boys are, Mr. Hunter, and we will send people to kill them if you don't come out. If you come out, no more killing. We talk."

I had a hard time believing any of this, knowing how the Russians reacted when someone pissed them off. I couldn't trust them, but I couldn't risk Mary and the boys' safety either.

The same voice spoke again, "As a sign of good faith, I will release your friend, and we will leave. You have six hours to decide, Mr. Hunter. After that, we will kill his wife and child, and then your family."

I guess I had grown soft. Time and a family will do that to you. I wouldn't do anything stupid to endanger Victor or his family, but I wondered if I could trust him now. Having a family does strange things to a person. Loyalties shift, and your family becomes your priority. At least they had with me.

I watched from cover as he walked toward the cabin. The remaining seven got in the S.U.V.'s and proceeded to back down the path. Maybe they were serious. All kinds of thoughts ran through my head. Did they rig him with explosives? Did they convince him to kill me to save his family? Viktor and I hadn't seen each other in over 10 years, and he owed me nothing.

As soon as I was sure they were gone, I made my way up the west side of the path, keeping Victor in my sights at all time. He approached the clearing, stopped, and turned.

"John, I know you can hear me, and I'm sorry. I didn't have any choice but to bring them here. If they didn't have Ilyana and Marusya, I would not be here. Believe me, I had no choice."

I spoke from cover, "Don't move, Viktor."

"I am not armed. I am not rigged. No explosives. They want to talk!"

"I'm having a hard time believing anyone that tries to kill me, my family, and my friends. Are we still friends, Viktor?"

"I gave them nothing. They lie about knowing where your family is. Not from me. If they know, it is some other way."

I could tell, even after not having seen Viktor for over ten years, that he wasn't lying to me. He had never been good at it anyway, and I didn't think he would start with me now. Either I gave him a chance, or he would try to kill me. There was no middle ground at this point.

"I'm coming out, Viktor, and as much as I love you, my old friend, if you try anything, I will drop you where you stand."

I walked into the clearing, my SCAR trained on him. He didn't move. As I got closer, I saw his face was disfigured. They had broken his nose, both eyes were swelled shut, and his mouth was a mangled mess. They had done a number on him.

I had never seen Viktor, show emotion, let alone cry, and he dropped to his knees sobbing. "John, you have to help me. They have my wife and daughter. They will kill them if you don't agree to meet with them. All they want is meeting. They want the killing to stop." I approached my old friend, placed the SCAR on the ground and helped him stand. He wrapped his arms around me, tears flowing down his face. I could tell this was genuine, something I would've felt if I were in his shoes. I hadn't allowed myself this luxury, and I felt his pain like it were my own.

"Everything's going be ok," I said, doing my best to comfort him, "What do they want?"

"It is hard to see. Let us go inside. They are gone and won't be back for six hours. I need to sit down and tell everything."

He walked toward the door, and I slung the SCAR over my shoulder, walked around the back, and fired up the generator, an unwise move, but we needed light, and a flashlight wasn't going to cut it.

The lights of the cabin flared to life, and I walked around to the front. I hadn't seen Jake since this started and called out his name. He came running out of the darkness from the same direction I had left him. He was my lucky charm, warning me on three separate occasions now. This boy was deserving of some treats as soon as I had the opportunity. I walked into the cabin, and Viktor was sitting on the bed, slumped over, his head buried in his hands. He looked up as I walked in and apologized again for bringing them to the cabin. He wouldn't have if they didn't have his wife and daughter. We talked for the next hour, and I learned a lot about Viktor and his family, and a lot more about the Russian Mafia. He had gotten married to Marusya, a girl he knew for many years as a young boy, and without any distractions, they built a happy life and had a daughter, Ilyana, who was almost ten. He owned a local hardware store in town and had settled here because some of her family was nearby.

I retrieved the bottle of vodka and pulled up a chair next to the bed, and we talked.

"Can you can tell me about the Russians? Who am I dealing with?"

"The Russian Mafiya are sick people. They do everything. Any kind of crime you can think of: drugs, prostitution, arms deals, money laundering, murder, extortion. I cannot tell you everything they do. North American Mafiya is run by Nataliy Michenkov, son of former KGB agent in Russia. He is Ukrainian but was raised in Moscow and has been in charge for almost twenty-five years. He is very powerful and very rich man. You killed his nephew, Andryusha Belokovich sister's son, who was BelyyaPrava; how you say, skinhead.

"So, who exactly is after me?"

"Both. Russian Mafiya and BelyyaPrava. Nataliy only wants to talk, but BelyyaPrava has contract on you."

"Wait a minute. I thought the Russians had a contract on me."

"No, BelyyaPrava. Nataliy happy you kill his nephew. Nephew cause many problems for Nataliy with FBI and tried to take over Mafiya and kill Nataliy. You save him trouble."

"What? I saved him trouble? How?" This was an interesting turn of events.

"You kill nephew and get Nataliy off hook. It is hard to kill family in Mafiya, and now that nephew is dead, government is off Nataliy's back."

"Ok, let me see if I got this straight. The Russians don't really want to kill me. The Bely y..whatever they are, have a contract on my head. Nataliy's nephew is dead, and the government is no longer bothering the Russians because of it. So why does he want to talk to me, if he doesn't want to kill me? Help me understand this."

"I don't know. They did not tell me.".

I wasn't sure what to believe or who to trust at this point, but I believed Viktor was telling me the truth.

I needed to trust my old friend, who had never lied to me, had served with me, and had helped hide me, but if this was all a big ruse to flush me out? It didn't seem logical to flush me out, only to kill me, so I told him I would meet with them, on my terms. They would have to come here, giving me the advantage. I would be able to see them, but they wouldn't be able to see me. There was a small smile from Viktor's swollen mouth, and two broken teeth, which were not before.

"Thank you, John," he cried, the tears streaming down his face, "You saved my Marusya and my Ilyana. I owe you, my friend."

"Let's see how this turns out before I start collecting any debts, Viktor. I still don't trust them and probably never will. I need to speak with Diego before this goes down. It's not that I don't trust you; it's that I don't trust you to not do something stupid. I'm going to tie you up, walk up the hill, and call Diego. If you're here when I return, we'll do what we need to do."

"I understand, John. I would tie me up too."

Making sure Viktor was secured, I pushed my phone into my pocket and grabbed the SCAR, which was fitted with a flashlight I used to light the path. As I reached the top of the hill, I turned on the phone, and the screen showed two messages waiting - one from Diego and one from Mary. Both were "Call ASAP."

I dialed Mary first, and she answered, somewhat panicked. "John. Listen. They found us, and they are here. They're not going to do anything unless you refuse to cooperate. We're ok." and then the line went silent.

"Mary?" I called out. I received no reply

There was talking in the background, and then Diego was on the line, "John," he never called me John, "They're not playing around. They got Mac. I tried to--."

And then the line was silent.

"Mr. Hunter," came the voice, "do we have your attention now?"

"Yes," was my reply.

"Good. If you do what we say, no harm will come to them. If you don't, consider that your last conversation," and the line went dead.

They had somehow found out where Mary and the boys were and were now waiting for an opportunity to isolate me. The scenario couldn't have been better for them. I had no choice. I couldn't risk Mary and the boys' lives and had to do what the Russians asked.