The Soviet Comeback by Jamie Smith (best ereader for academics TXT) 📕

on fur-covered snow boots, which were hideously ugly but highly effective, and then began warily trudging up the track.

CHAPTER 27

“If Veselovsky is there, we must try to take him alive,” Klitchkov said curtly.

“I will try,” Nikita responded, checking the stock of his Sig Sauer, before keeping it in his gloved hands, pointing low. “But if he puts any of my family in danger, I will take him down without hesitation.”

Klitchkov inclined his head in the shortest of nods, holding the Kalashnikovs in both hands. “I do not know when the backup will be able to reach us. We could be alone for this operation, agent.”

Nikita nodded silently.

The track took them up to the top of a low hill which looked down upon a broad, flat expanse, only just recognisable as a lake under the snow dusted across the thick ice, before curving around the summit. As they rounded the far side of the hill, the track veered downwards in a gentle zigzag and there at the foot of the valley lay the stone izba, just as he remembered it. Picturesque in its colourless surroundings, smoke furling from the chimney, a warm glow emanating from behind the curtained windows in the perpetual twilight of the Arctic Circle.

They were both breathing heavily from the difficulty of the climb through thick snow in their multiple layers. Nikita could feel a bead of sweat snaking its way down the small of his back. He breathed a sigh of relief. If Brishnov had already been here, he was certain the scene he was looking upon would be one of massacre and devastation.

Nonetheless, he knew now to take nothing for granted when it came to Brishnov. Lev Veselovsky may have had his own ideas for how to get to them.

Nikita paused, then going down on one knee, peered through the scope of his sniper. Footsteps could be seen in the snow around the cottage but none were visible on the track going down.

He walked off the track and beckoned to Klitchkov to go with him. They sat and leant with their backs to the hill, concealed from the track by a rocky outcrop. Klitchkov roughly dusted their footprints behind him with the sleeve of his coat as he followed Nikita.

“What is it, Allochka?” asked Klitchkov in the hushed voice that always descends on people when surrounded by snow.

“We need to assess the situation.”

“The situation seems clear; we have beaten them here and if we hurry, we can help them escape before the enemy arrives.”

“We know nothing for certain at this point, Chairman. One thing is definite, and that is that they are going after my family to draw me out. Brishnov will care little if my family live or die; it is me he wants.”

“You cannot give yourself up, Allochka,” said Klitchkov sternly.

“Because you want to have me hang for treason yourself?” said Nikita, with a cocked eyebrow.

“Perhaps I could suspend your sentence, if you manage to capture Brishnov and Veselovsky,” Klitchkov said, grinning.

“You will be pleased to know I have no intention of giving myself up to Brishnov. But my priority here is the safety of my family.”

“Of course.”

“From this vantage point, the scene looks secure. But the curtains are drawn and we do not know if a trap lies in wait for us. The one advantage we have on our side is that they will assume that I have been left to come on my own,” he said, looking at Klitchkov.

“A fair assumption,” agreed Klitchkov.

“It is an advantage we must keep in our hands. But first I must scope out the rear of the premises; wait here,” whispered Nikita, disappearing off across the hillside without waiting for an answer. With his white hood pulled up, he quickly disappeared into the landscape.

He stepped lightly, careful not to make any clouds of snow or sending any clumps tumbling down the hillside. He longed to just enter the house and embrace the family he had not seen for so long, but he knew he could be wasting precious time and couldn’t afford to take any chances.

Working in a wide arc, hugging the rocky hillside, and taking advantage of any crags that would hide him from view, he made it round to the rear of the homestead. As he had expected, there was no sign of anything untoward. Just a squared-off area for a garden. Nikita chuckled; it was so typical of his mother to demand that they created a garden, when the vast white expanse stretching for hundreds of miles to the Kara Sea was theirs to do whatever they wished with. The entire tundra was their back garden, and none of the animals that survived out there would be stopped by a low wooden fence. Only a rifle would stop the likes of a polar bear or charging musk ox should any of them venture closer to the izba.

Satisfied, Nikita made his way carefully back to Klitchkov’s hiding place. He found the chairman sat stiffly, looking at him crossly.

“Do not do that without conferring with me first. Do not forget I am your commanding officer.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well…?”

“It appears to be clear, sir. As for our advantage, I suggest I approach the house myself, and you cover me. I will use field signals to communicate from range. I will then secure the premises and gather my family at the rear of the property. It cannot be long until Brishnov and Veselovsky descend upon our position so we must make haste and I do not think we should return to the vehicle via the track. I suggest we go across the terrain, approaching the road further down from the left side of the hill. Do you concur?” Nikita asked.

“I concur,” agreed Klitchkov. “If you are inside and I see them approach, I will fire a warning shot through