CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Reid piloted the medevac helicopter over the border between the Czech Republic and Poland, heading northeast in the general direction of Warsaw. He kept the lights off and his altitude low, around fifteen hundred feet, maintaining an air speed of about a hundred sixty miles an hour. The radio was off; the last thing he needed was more threats to shoot him out of the sky.
He plugged the cell phone that Maria had given him into the headset interface, but hesitated to press the call button. It was not for fear of betraying the CIA, or his country; US and Ukrainian relations were cordial. Besides, he had been disavowed. He had no one to betray. His hesitation was based on a feeling, the notion that these Ukrainians—if they were really FIS at all—wanted something from him.
