Day Of Wrath Read Online Free Page A

assault rifle at the ready.
    He nodded toward the sentries. “You expecting trouble, Major?”
    “Perhaps.” The MVD officer hesitated and then went on.
    “There are many predators in these woods, Colonel. Bears.
    Foxes. Even wolves.”
    True enough, Thorn thought. But not all wolves ran on four legs. He noticed that the armed guards spent at least as much time watching the search team as they did the surrounding forest.
    He suspected the Russians were trying to make sure their poorly paid rescue workers didn’t loot any of the crash victims’ personal effects.
    He and Koniev stepped aside, clearing the narrow path for two panting conscripts carrying a large black plastic bag back toward the camp.
    Part of the bag snagged a low-hanging branch and ripped open, revealing a blackened lump of flesh that was barely identifiable as a human torso. One of the soldiers muttered a tired apology and hastily shifted his grip to close the gash in the body bag.
    Thorn’s eyes narrowed. He’d seen death in almost every form on the battlefield or in the aftermath of terrorist atrocities. But no one could ever be fully prepared for the havoc a highspeed impact could wreak on the human body.
    He heard Koniev gag and then quickly take a deep, shuddering breath.
    He turned to look at the young MVD officer. “Are you all right, Major?”
    “Yes.” The other man looked pale, but otherwise in control.
    He straightened his shoulders. “Have you seen enough, Colonel?
    It will be dark soon.”
    Thorn nodded sharply, pushing the image of that blistered corpse out of his mind. “Yeah. I’ve seen enough. For now. But I’ll be back here at first light.”
    Investigation Base Camp, Near the Ileksa River Colonel Peter Thorn stopped near a small tent set up beneath a tall pine tree and buttoned his uniform jacket. His breath steamed in the chilly night air. The temperature had dropped rapidly after darkdipping close to the freezing mark.
    He stood still for a moment longer, gathering his thoughts while making sure he wasn’t being observed. Private quarters were the sole concession Helen Gray had accepted as lone woman on the investigative team. She had worked damned hard to be accepted on her merits in the male-dominated precincts of the FBI . And, for all their Soviet-era propaganda boasts about building a truly equal society, the Russians remained an even more intensely conservative lot. Getting caught visiting her tent alone after sundown could easily put her professional reputation at risk. He was determined to avoid that if possible.
    Floodlights lit the compound and surrounding forest with a cold, harsh, sharp-edged glare that made the blackness outside the light absolute.
    The smell of cheap tobacco and cooked beets wafted from the crowded tents used to house Russian enlisted men. But there were no signs of movement among the trees.
    After a long, hard, backbreaking day at the crash site, the search effort had shut down for the night. Moscow would have to ferry in more men, equipment, and supplies before they could accelerate the recovery operation onto a twenty-four-hour cycle.
    Thorn turned back toward Helen’s tent and then stopped dead in his tracks. Maybe he should wait and see her the next morning.
    Maybe he was pushing too fast.
    He shook his head, angry at himself for wavering. He’d been awarded medals for bravery under fire. Right now, though, none of them meant a damned thing. What the hell was his problem?
    If she still loved him, everything would be fine. And if she didn’t love him anymore? Well, better to find that out now—to force a clean, crisp break before their screwed-up emotions started interfering with their work. This investigation had to come first. It was time to start acting like a man and a soldier instead of a scared teenager.
    He took a quick, deep breath, squared his shoulders, and tapped softly on the canvas tent flap. “Helen? Can I come in?”
    “Peter?” The tent flap opened, spilling a warmer