“Da, but no electricity. There is no breach in the hull. It should start up.” He waved to the waterless interior. She’d expected it to be filled as well, and wondered how a submarine of this magnitude would simply stop working. “We need to have electricity to open the tubes.”
“The core is leaking.” She showed him the gauge. “We have twenty minutes, no more.” Rastoff knew his duty and went to complete it, pushing through the next hatch with his equipment bag and moving around the dead to do it.
Veta turned to the bridge, the spot where her father would have stood, and found his second in command. With the lack of reconstituted air, their skin looked pasty brown and drawn around their skeletons like mummies. All the crew were at their stations, neatly dressed. She turned away from it, searching the bodies for her father. She was headed to the cabins when she found him, and with a cry, she sank to her knees. In the communications corner, he was slumped over the radio controls. He still gripped the handset in dry fingers. She choked, tears burning her throat as she struggled with her rage, her grief again, and touched his uniform. Her metal and fiber gloves broke his remains into a power. Dimitri called to her over the radio, and she frantically cut off her communications and video, then let herself cry. She cried for his last moments still believing his pleas did not fall on deaf ears. For the picture of their family curled and gray beside his wrist. She pushed to her feet, sniffled inside the helmet. She switched on communication to hear Dimitri scolding her for shutting it off.
“I am fine,” she snapped. “He never gave up. Do you see this? This is not a man who was arrogant nor unskilled. Moscow failed him. Putin failed. Golubev, Molenko ran scared from the Americans!” She walked from man to man, stating the obvious with cold facts. At each body, she called out the name embroidered on his uniform. She wanted the families to know how their loved ones died at the hands of FSB.
She checked her air readings, then walked off the bridge to her father’s side. None appeared harmed, she thought and saw papers under his arm where his head rested. It took her a moment to grip the paper and draw it out. She read aloud that when Moscow refused their Mayday, and after their supplies were depleted, they went peacefully. She found the empty pill bottle behind her father’s shoe. They’d averted a reactor explosion by shutting down everything, her father wrote. To attempt to restart would ignite.
Suddenly the lights flickered on. “Rastoff! Do not turn anything on!”
The sub went into black again. “Da. Now why?”
“It is inoperable by choice. My father wrote that it will explode if we restart.”
“I was not turning the key, Commander, only electrical to open the bay locks. The core is hot. I feel vibration down here.”
She frowned, standing still and agreed when she felt a humming rising from her boots. Like a slow moving motor.
“We can separate the missiles, but it must be done quickly. The change in weight will surely tip the boat.”
“Can we flood the tubes and soft launch?” Commandos often left a sub through the torpedo tubes.
“Da. But it cannot close and will flood the boat. I will go out the tubes with them.”
She stopped short. “Nyet! The water is too cold and we are too deep.” The only way they were surviving now was the oxygen mix in their air tanks. She glanced at the gauge. They had only twelve minutes left. “Rastoff, that is an order. Send them out and return to the hatch. Let the boat flood. We can retrieve them with the Hammer as planned.”
“As you order, Commander.”
From Molenko’s files, she’d memorized the layout of the submarine, the bridge, the cabins, and squad bays. She turned toward the front and the captain’s cabin. Her tanks barely fit through the door. The bed was still made. Despite the dire situation, her father held discipline. She searched for the captain’s safe. Eyes Only orders would be locked in there, but she was more interested in her father’s legend notes. He’d carried them everywhere and liked to read them before sleep. She opened his closet door. In the base was the captain’s safe, and she removed her waist pack to open the sealed bag. She held up the glass syringe and applied the acid, stopping before it dropped the lock. She pried it open and removed the contents, and found her father’s accordion folder with the worn ribbon. It felt heavy in her hands, and she wanted to read through it to understand his obsession, but there was no time. From her utility belt, she unfolded a waterproof bag and sealed it inside, then anchored it to her weight belt.
“Hammer to Northern Lion,” she radioed Dimitri. “Break the ice.”
When the ballast took the missiles to the surface, they couldn’t retrieve them unless the ice was broken or they’d be forced to tow them from under the ice. According to the design, they weren’t more than fifteen feet long but it would take too long and satellite would spot them. Breaking it was expedient.
She headed back to the hatch, moving quickly. Men were strewn like rags. For some, their faces etched with burns. She stopped, looking down through the network of catwalks and corridors to the engine below. A fire? It was suddenly hard to breathe and she checked her air, then immediately hurried to the hatch. She climbed the last level and felt perspiration at the small of her back by the time she reached the hatch. She smacked the hilt of her knife against the hull. A dull clunk was answered and she climbed the ladder and turned the wheel, her arms straining. It opened. She pushed her bag in first.
Stefan pulled her in, saying, “We have some boats on the water and seas are rough. Dimitri says now or give up. We’ll die. We could lose the missiles.” He closed the hatch.
“Nyet! We will not!” She tore at her helmet, motioning for Stefan to hurry. “I have no air!” The lever clamp gave and she breathed deeply, then worked out of the heavy suit. “Where is Rastoff?” Stephan radioed him as she knelt at the hatch, adjusting her radio. “Rastoff, respond!” He didn’t and she tried to unlock the hatch.
“Nyet, the radiation!” She shrugged Stefan off and opened it. The spinning rush of water rose in seconds, and she slammed it shut and locked it. She wiggled into her chair, calling Rastoff as she released the lock. Then the sub shook and she saw bubbles rise from the nose.
“Lift off. I am in the tubes.” She cursed him and released the seal. They floated away. She forced the engines and the submarine dived down toward the tubes. Damn him. She would have guided them herself! She saw the nose cone of the missile. The ballast would inflate and force it the rest of the way. She waited, poised near. But the ballast balloons didn’t inflate, and when the missile started to tumble, she drove forward, extending the mechanical arms to the binding. She could only flick at it before she saw Rastoff, his weight belt caught in the strap. The missile dragged him down and she aimed for him, lengthening the arms. He struggled to cut the lines and suddenly, they slid free. Rastoff grabbed the mechanical arm. The missile sank into the darkness. She drew the arm inward, and shouted for him to go to the hatch. Then a mass of bubbles blocked his face mask and she realized water filled his suit. She used the secondary to push him closer, swearing they could bring him in. Then he let go.
“No! Oh God, he’s rising too fast!” She turned the sub in a swirl and headed toward him, extending the arms to grip anything to make him stop. She reached, and closed the clamp on his leg. His face inside the helmet no longer gasped for air, but was red, swelling, and a moment later, his body ruptured inside the suit. Blood darkened the water where the pressure pushed it out the cut sleeve of his suit.
“Rest your soul, Rastoff.” She released him and went for the second missile.
It was sinking and when she thought it was gone, the ballast released. The missile rose rapidly, spinning and she tried to maneuver out of its path. Then, under the water, she heard a tremendous thunder she couldn’t define. She spun the vessel. The black hull of the Northern Lion was rushing toward them, breaking the ice. Excellent.
Then the rising missile cleaved the air tanks from the Hammer.
Olivia hefted the Plexiglas box hou
sing artifacts trapped in ice and walked it to the rear of the Sno-Cat. Dana took it, setting it somewhere inside and leaving the last spot for Jal. She’d thawed the Viking mummy to free it from the furs and cargo trapped beneath him, not really surprised he wasn’t crushed flat from the ice. Water encased him. The Viking was six four at least, decomposed, rare even for that century. Intimidation probably worked for him, though he was definitely a trader. The deck was filled with cargo, crates broken open that would later join the artifacts they’d already uncovered and transported. The most amazing pieces were a jar of honey, intact and still sealed, and a plant wrapped in coarse burlap. She couldn’t wait for their botanist’s findings. Poor guy was bored to tears till now, and she hoped the plant could tell them where the ship had been after leaving Ireland.
She lifted the end of what looked like an Egyptian divan made of ice, straps, and wood, then nodding to Kit, marched it across the ice and slid the container into the vehicle. A hundred yards south, another Sno-Cat was spitting snow as it rode toward the ridge and the plane waiting to take it to the University of Greenland. She’d have to brush up on her Danish, she thought as her hair swept over her face. She let go of the rails, then searched her pockets for her fur headband and slid it on. Her ears stung they were so cold.
“Go get your bags, everyone,” she said and they scattered. They couldn’t ignore the dangers. Especially with two Marines facing the coast and armed to the teeth. Ice Harvest had gone from an archaeology dig to a strategic defense location. A couple of the team returned through the open end of the dome and climbed into the Sno-Cats. Olivia double-checked the bindings, then closed the doors.
“You’re ready to roll.”
Kit scooped her bag off the ice. “I’m not happy about leaving, but that scary guy doesn’t let you argue.”
Scary guy? “Sebastian is protecting us and if he says, go, we go.” Though Ross said the same thing, probably why he obeyed Sebastian like a soldier and was still staring at a computer screen like a plant. But scary wasn’t what she saw in her ex. She admitted that remembering getting naked with him was way too easy and it brought some especially erotic memories to the surface. The brief moments in her cube were just not enough and she could almost feel his mouth on her skin. She felt a blush stealing into her face and said, “We’re lucky to get Jal out now, so let’s not piss him off.”
Kit laughed, slinging her duffel across her body. “Cruz will. He’s refusing to budge till he’s uploaded the data to the NSA mainframes. He’s as paranoid as Doctor Sheppard about backup.”
She’d done the same, and where Noble had left his still puzzled her. Suddenly the tremor alarms sounded and Kit grabbed her arm for balance.
“That’s not an earthquake,” she said and rushed to the Marines. They were on the radio, running toward the shore. She searched inside her neckline for her PRR, then slid it into her ear. She heard Sebastian issuing orders to take up positions. She came around the edge of the sloping dome and her eyes went wide. The giant ship was moving inland, shattering the ice.
“Oh this is not good, not, not.” She heard voices and turned. Kit and a couple scientists were behind her. “Get in the Sno-cat! Go, go, everyone get off the dig!”
The crew disappeared and she saw a Marine follow before she ran down the length of the dome. Sebastian appeared, hauling butt to the chopper, and she rushed to help him pop the cable lines. Max joined them, sliding on the trembling ice. He released the battery from the heater.
“We have to stop them! If they get any closer it could crevasse and the ice will fold.”
“Well, that’s not happening, I have plans for Christmas,” Max said, slinging his assault rifle forward, then climbed in. Four Marines joined them, sliding the doors shut.
Sebastian dropped behind the stick, and flipped switches. The engine kicked over and the rotors started turning. Before he pulled on his helmet, he grabbed the neck of her parka and pulled her close. “Get off the dig.”
“No way.”
“Thought so.” He kissed her, deep and quick.
She pulled the balaclava up over his mouth. “I can see weapons, be careful.”
“Just going to shoot something till it stops, darlin’. Get inside the dig. The exterior will protect you from any gunfire.” He pulled on his helmet.
Max sighted through binoculars, pointing ahead. “Noble’s topside.”
She whipped around. Noble’s thick crop of silver hair was a bright dot from here. “Trade for him.” She shouted above the engine. “Trade the translation for him!”
Sebastian shook his head, pointing to his helmet, and the beat of the rotors sent her running for the wind tunnel. He lifted off. But the ship kept coming, and Olivia saw the widening cracks move toward her.
Three smaller boats swarmed in the choppy water. Chalk-white ice shattered like glass, climbing up the hull and falling away as the icebreaker moved ahead. Dimitri stood at the prow, sighting through binoculars. He caught movement and narrowed the focus. A band of red hair flashed against white and he reached for his rifle and sighted through the high-powered scope.
The woman from Ireland, he realized, then turned to the nearest man. “Bring me the historian. Dress him well,” he said, then looked back. He spotted the shape in the glacier, and as they neared, saw white buildings, but little else. He didn’t wonder over the structure, nor care. The diary is with her. He was sure of it, and realized the star coordinates had led to something on the ice. Nothing would please Veta more than to have the diary and her vengeance.
He ordered the ship forward, and the first fuselage of the missile broke the ice; the red ballast canisters marked its position. He smiled and waited for the Hammer to surface. It didn’t, and he smothered his worry and ordered all stop. The ice floated on an uneven current.
Then he heard the radio distress calls and Veta’s scream that she had no air. He ran to the hoist. The nose of the Hammer suddenly appeared, rocking wildly in the turbulent seas. He shouted to snag it. He had to get the hatch open. She was dying inside, like her father. Nose up, he could see her pounding on the hatch. He ordered the boats to surround the sub and push it to the hoist. It wasn’t fast enough and through the windows, he saw her struggling to breathe. Immediately, he slid down the hoist, his boots in the water. The freezing temperature sent needles of pain up his legs but he forced them to move and climbed over the top of the unbalanced sub.
He heard a slow dull pounding from the inside as he tried opening the hatch. The edge was bent, and he stood on it, yanking. The seal broke, and Veta lurched out, gasping and breathing hard. She coughed, then turned back and helped Stefan. Dimitri simply gripped her under the arms and pulled her out of the Hammer. He clutched her to him, uncaring of anything except that she was alive. Then he set her back abruptly, glaring at her. “Stupid fool!” he growled for her ears alone.
“Rastoff is dead,” she gasped. “He stayed behind to push them out.”
Dimitri’s face showed his grief, and he turned away from her, ordering the Hammer lashed, and found the sonar had torn free. One air tank was gone as well. He accepted this fate, but knew she would not. He looked up when he heard shouting and rushed around equipment to the rail. A second, then a third missile floated between the boats, the red buoys inflated. As the motorboats corralled and nudged them toward the Northern Lion, Dimitri turned to Veta. She sat on the deck, shivering, her head in her hands. Her skin was a ghastly shade. He turned away and ordered them to hoist the missiles and leave the Hammer.
“Nyet, my bag and the camera!” she said.
“We have a recording and you have your precious trade.”
When she started to get it herself, he gripped her arms, dragged her to his face. “You are a fool to do this, Veta, and now Rastoff is gone.”
“He gave his life for our cause.”
He shook her hard. “For you, they die! Enough!” His fingers worked and he released her slowly when he wanted to throw her. She would end her life for her damn vengeance. He
wanted to see her discard these fucking quests and just live a happy life but feared she was too deep in her own misery to envision beyond it.
“I will say when it is enough!” She stood erect, her eyes damning him, then went to the Hammer. She nearly fell in the water trying to get into the sub, and he tossed her a rope. She crawled into the hatch, then reappeared with the waterproof bag and her helmet camera. When she was back on deck, she straightened, swaying a little.
“Take your toys to your master, woman. The ships approach.” He crossed to the old man standing on the deck. “Put him on the bow.” Let them see him.
“What?” Veta demanded. “Why?”
“I warned you.” He pointed to land, and the helicopter coming toward them. “We are not alone.”
FSB headquarters
There are some secrets that must be kept, Leonid thought. Yet in his soul, he wanted this exposed. Perhaps corruption would reduce, but he knew by association, he’d be pulled into the mire as well. Today he felt he stepped closer to crossing that line he’d sworn never to touch. He understood Nevolin’s motivation, yet while his superiors insisted on silencing her before she could divulge the truth, the missiles aboard the Trident were Leonid’s first concern.
In front of him, four screens were broken into segments, different views of Greenland’s coast. He was certain Nevolin had found the Trident. Molenko’s notes had given her the last transmission location. The screen showed her ship, the Northern Lion, and it looked as if it had docked. Yet there was no pier. The topographical map beside the view showed the frozen fjord that never thawed. They had no success in defining the smooth lump in the snow near land, but saw buildings. Scientists were always there taking endless readings in the arctic, but at the moment, it had no bearing. If Nevolin succeeded in raising the missiles, she had to be stopped. At least one contained a nerve agent.
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