Soon Dies the Day (Shadow Warriors Book 12) by Stephen England

Author:Stephen England [England, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

9:34 P.M. Eastern European Time

Tiraspol

Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic (Transnistria)

He could have slept for another fourteen hours, Harry was somehow sure—his body finally rebelling in protest after the long days and sleepless nights on the road, pressing its demands ever more insistently.

But here he was, awake, all the same—eight hours after he had first lain down in one of the narrow beds in the apartment on the top floor of a Soviet-era tenement along the Strada Karl Marx. The entire floor was being rented out as a hostel, apparently, but they were the only guests, if guests they were—Vogl’s half-dozen men scattered across half as many rooms, with Gheorghe strategically situated as far as possible from Niels.

Harry leaned back against his worn, half-stuffed pillow, staring up at the faded paint of the ceiling above—willing himself to go back to sleep, to get what rest he could, while he could. Recognizing the futility of it, in the same moment.

It was impossible to know how long they would be in Transnistria, but it represented his best chance at getting away. At finally getting clear. There were a lot of old Soviet-era vehicles lying about—it would be the work of minutes to hotwire one, and he could reach the Ukrainian border in less than twenty minutes.

The irony of crossing over into Ukraine on what was like as not an FSB or GRU-manufactured passport wasn’t lost on him, but it was a good fake, and more importantly, it was the best he was likely to have for the foreseeable future.

He rose, eyeing the sleeping form of Carsten Stotz in the other bed, closer to the window. His ruck, dumped in a heap at the foot of the bed, visible in the pale light filtering through the worn shades from the street.

There was a pistol in the ruck, as he knew well, but the weapon would do him precious little good and only get him in trouble if he was searched at the border. Stotz’s cellphone and whatever cash he was carrying, on the other hand. . .

Harry stooped down by the ruck, listening carefully to the KSK commando’s steady breathing for a moment before unzipping an outer pouch and rummaging around inside. His hand had just closed on Carsten’s roll of euro notes when he heard it—a hard rap against a door farther down the corridor, and then another, coming closer.

He zipped the compartment back up and stood just in time—a half-grunted curse of frustration escaping Carsten’s lips as he roused, swinging his legs out of bed just as the knock reached their own door.

“Was ist los?” the commando demanded wearily, shaking his head as if to clear it. Harry crossed the small room in a couple quick strides, keeping the light off as he threw open the door to the hall.

A smile in the semi-darkness without. “Guten Tag, Herr Eichel.”

Marcel Bachmann.

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