He looked down at the thick stack of papers on the table. Her activities of the past two years shifted between dealings with mafia, men holding national secrets, and a historical search of some kind. Her father’s hobby of legends and fables, he thought, mostly Irish and none of them Russian. He dismissed it.
Leonid stepped forward and said softly, “Get me the commander in Ana Bay.” He’d send MiGs. It would take time to travel there, but he’d sent ships to that quadrant. A deterrent, he hoped, but Nevolin had conducted herself under their nose. She was better prepared than anyone anticipated. Beside him, the head of military intelligence looked on in silence. He was unaware of the powder keg beneath Russia right now. Leonid thought it foolish not to include him in the details but understood he would not be sympathetic.
When he had the commander of the Russian naval command on the line, he gave orders.
“Do not allow the Northern Lion to escape the area, but remain outside Danish waters.” It would be hours before a ship would reach the area, and if they could not take control of this situation, then he’d order MiGs to sink the ship.
The ice was smooth and flat as a lake beneath the chopper. “Dragon Six to base, Keep them armed and ready.”
“Roger that,” Riley said. “Don’t shoot anything unless you have to. Sirius is riding to the rescue.”
The Denmark soldiers had full authority to enforce Danish law, but Nevolin wouldn’t obey. He approached cautiously, and lowered the chopper to a hover. Noble was at the bow, alone, but a few feet back a man pointed an assault rifle at his head. He could see the stain of red on his hand wrapped in bandages.
He opened the speaker. “Northern Lion. Stop all engines. Do not come farther.”
The ship kept moving and Sebastian lifted higher when the dots of red punctured through the broken ice.
“Looks like they went shopping,” Max said.
The missiles. “Christ, she did it,” Sebastian said. “Tell them stop or I’ll shoot the ballast.”
Max grabbed the speaker mike and spoke in Russian. Their posture immediately changed and he saw Nevolin at the rail, looking deathly pale. “They got the message.”
“Warn them again to give us Sheppard or I’ll sink the missiles.” It was their only bargaining power right now.
Max repeated his words. The look of shock on their faces was priceless, but then Kolbash put a gun to Noble’s head. Noble shouted something.
“Let’s show some teeth.” Sebastian reached above his head and flipped the gun switch. The chopper trembled for a second as the steel shields rolled back, exposing the machine guns.
Max repeated the warning. Kolbash nearly pushed Noble over the edge.
Sebastian fired, blowing the ballast of a missile. It sank, turned nose up, and disappeared. “Three more to go,” he said. Noble doesn’t look good, he thought, then heard Riley.
“Be advised, Corrigan is on a warpath.”
Sebastian twisted and saw the Ski-Doo zip under the chopper and stop at the edge of the ice. “Christ I thought she was smarter than that!” Dumb move, Livi, heroic, but dumb.
“She’s shouting to trade,” Max said. “Riley says he can hear her through the PRR.”
Sebastian opened his own mike. “—us Noble. I’ll give you the diary!”
He flipped a switch, talking to her. “Olivia, what the hell are you doing?”
“They want the diary. We want Noble. He’s injured, look at him. We have to get him off.”
“Woman! They’ll take you, too!”
“Kolbash called my cell! He demanded the translation or he’d kill Noble! Look at that bastard!” He was taking pleasure in sticking the gun barrel in Noble’s mouth.
“They won’t negotiate.”
Olivia looked back over her shoulder. “We have to try.”
Even through the dry transmission, he heard the heartache in her voice. She harbored a deep guilt for his kidnapping, blaming herself for sending Noble to England alone. They couldn’t have known, but she was too stubborn to see it. “But this isn’t the safest way to do it.”
“I know, I’m winging it. They’ve stopped breaking the ice at least.”
She climbed off the Ski-Doo, her security rope trailing her as she walked a few steps. She held up the translation, the plastic covering snapping in the hard wind tearing at her hair. Sebastian maintained a hover. With the cracking ice, landing wasn’t smart. Then Noble disappeared from the bow. For several minutes, they were helpless as three RIBs grabbed the remaining missiles. Shooting them risked Noble and Olivia. Nothing happened, no one moved, and then the loading ramp unfolded from the side of the ship. The steel hit the ice, breaking it more.
“Jesus!” Max said. “Is everyone playing the odds today? They’re at the waterline around broken ice.”
“Marines, prepare to rappel.” The troops threw open the doors, and positioned themselves on the ledge. Wind currents made the chopper unstable, and he swept around the edges, looking for a bloodless solution. “If we shoot, Olivia’s going to buy it.” Kolbash looked ready for murder and he was good at it.
“We can take out every man there, but not all at the same time.”
The massive ship rocked on the waves, the warm front smashing with the cold and nearly on them. Water sloshed over the ramp. Then Riley came over the airwaves.
“Sirius soldiers to your three o’clock and Danish Air Force is taking off and packing.”
“They’re booking and these guys can fire and ride at the same time,” Max said.
Sebastian stared ahead at the open jaw of the icebreaker. “What are they planning with a truck in that thing?” Then Noble appeared from behind it, his wrists unbound. Someone shoved him forward and he stumbled, flinched when water splashed him. Giant ice chunks wobbled. “Oh crap, he’s not on solid ground.”
Olivia walked forward, holding out the translation. Kolbash pushed Noble onto the ice. “Noble, go to the Ski-Doo!” she shouted.
Sebastian wished he could hear Kolbash answer, then he motioned for her to bring him the diary first, and Olivia, God love her, refused. Nevolin stood at the mouth of the ramp, wrapped in blankets.
Noble tried to take a step and Kolbash raised his weapon to his head. Olivia rushed to the water’s edge and held the diary over the thousand-foot depths. Just when he thought, plastic will float, she ripped the seal, ensuring it would sink.
“I will let it go. Don’t think I won’t.” Olivia was damn defiant, poised on the edge of the arctic sea.
Nevolin shouted something, immobile. Danish soldiers shot across the ice. Noble dashed across the ice toward the machine and Sebastian didn’t breathe till Olivia backed away from the water’s edge. The icy wind whipped inside the helicopter. The seas churned, waves enough to rock the icebreaker
“I believe we have yet another Mexican standoff,” Max said.
“More like Russian roulette,” Sebastian said. If he fired, too many would die.
Then Olivia made the mistake of letting Kolbash near her secure line.
FOURTEEN
Kolbash grabbed her security rope, pulling it taut, his eyes taking on a gleam she could feel from across the ice. The same look when he’d held a knife on her. This was not looking good for the home team, and her heart beat against her breastbone so hard she could feel it. She held the diary translation over the water, her gaze shooting between Noble and Kolbash. He pointed a weapon at Noble, but a quick glance at the bow, she knew it didn’t matter. There were a half dozen men aiming semiautomatics at them.
The whop-whop of the helicopter suddenly felt like Sebastian bitch slapping her on the back of head. She was trapped and knew the outcome, even before the bastard fired a shot at Noble.
“Don’t fuck with me, Kolbash!” She let the diary go and heard a scream before it hit the water. Nevolin rushed down the ramp, her boots sloshing in the water as she threw herself onto the ice to grab the plastic before it sank.
“Shit!” Olivia ran toward the chopper, and gunfire chased h
er. She stopped, her hands up. “Noble, go! It’s Sebastian.” She could hear the ice cracking, the sound almost painful as Noble ran toward the aircraft. She kept her attention on Kolbash.
He held her rope and his smile was downright evil as he yanked. Her feet went out from under her, the impact to her back rattling her fillings. Pain didn’t have time to register before the ice chunk rolled wildly.
“Not in the water! Oh jeez, not in the water!” Water splashed her legs and the sharp stings nearly immobilized her. She prayed it didn’t tip or she’d go into the sea like a fish off a plate. Then Kolbash reeled in her security line. She slid across the ice like a hockey puck and scrambled to release the carabiner. Then a rip of bullets cut the line. She tried to stand, to run, but her wet legs refused to move fast enough and Kolbash was there, grabbing her hair and flinging her back. Her scalp screamed and she thought, please don’t shoot anyone. Three successive shots were deafening. She heard Noble’s screaming plea and opened her eyes to see the black hole of a pistol barrel. It was still smoking.
“Don’t fight,” she heard Sebastian say faintly and realized her earpiece had slipped out. She didn’t dare touch it and hoped her hair covered it. Kolbash barked for her to stand and Olivia obeyed, pushing at her hair and disguising adjusting the PRR. Her Ski-Doo was riddled with bullets, she realized as her boot heels hit the loading ramp. Icy water washed over her legs. She flinched at the pain and backed out of it.
“Oh Jesus, that hurts.” Tears burned her eyes and she smothered the pain inside her rage as she unclipped the carabiner and threw it back at Kolbash. “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Denmark Air Force is coming. And you don’t really think the United States will allow you to get away with missiles, do you?”
“Shut up!” He didn’t know whether to help Nevolin or shoot them all. Then he fired at her Ski-Doo again, demolishing the engine.
“You have the diary.” The wash of the ship engines churned the water, the ice breaking further.
Nevolin had already crawled off the ice and onto the ramp, tearing into the diary. Olivia knew she was convinced it was the real McCoy when Nevolin stood and walked uneasily into the belly of the ship. She grabbed a radio from the first man she crossed. Dimitri argued with her in Russian. Olivia didn’t understand, but knew she wasn’t letting Noble go. Then the ramp started to rise and she looked beyond to the black chopper hovering in the cloud-filled sky and saw a zip line drop and a harnessed Marine fall out of the chopper, aiming for Noble. At least five Sirius soldiers raced toward them. When the Marine grabbed Noble, she bolted, but Kolbash latched on to her jacket hood, twisted, yanking her back. She lashed out, her elbow impacting his throat. He barely flinched, the gun in her face.
“I can kill you now and sleep well, woman.” He dragged her onto the ship, her boots scraping against the ramp as she tried to stop herself. He shouted in Russian. The buzz of a snowmobile neared, and he swung his arm and fired. The Danish soldier flew backward off the machine. Blood stained the ice. Oh God. The machine stopped, tipping. As the soldiers ran to their comrade, Kolbash swung his aim to Noble, uncaring of the gunfire around him. Relief swept her when she saw Marines pull him inside the helicopter. Kolbash immediately made her his new target, and pressed the pistol to her forehead. OhGod-ohshit. His blue eyes said he needed to pull the trigger and she prayed she didn’t pee her pants.
“You need me,” she said suddenly and hoped Sebastian understood. It would be a bloodbath if they opened fire. No one would win. “You need me to find the relic.”
“Livi, don’t.”
She ignored his voice. She had to. A soldier lay dying on the ice. She put her hands up. “I give up!”
Kolbash pointed the gun to the sky, smirking to himself, and Olivia looked at the ramp rising like a drawbridge, darkening her surroundings. She tried to make a dash for the edge, aware she’d land in the water. Her ice-bitten legs were leaden and bullets sparked off the iron at her feet, ricocheted. She froze, hands up, and the moment for escape was lost as the chopper swept left.
A Marine was poised on the skids with a rifle. He fired, and she actually heard it speed past her and hit Kolbash in the shoulder with a squishy sound. The impact threw him back off his feet. He landed hard and someone screamed. Olivia ran up the ramp, grappling to keep from sliding. But it was too steep. She caught a glimpse of the fiery tail of a rocket spiraling toward the helicopter.
It was on target.
The loading ramp lifted and the icebreaker was already angling away as Noble fell to the deck, and shouted something. A corporal shoved on a headset and plugged him in. “That woman has no self-control!”
That’s what Sebastian loved about her. Just not right now. “You okay, cousin?”
“Yes, yes, fine.” He grabbed his shoulder, shaking him. “Now get her away from those people.”
“Oh, shit. Ramp’s closing.” Sebastian turned the chopper, spotting three more ships on the horizon, but was only interested in the one below them. And Olivia. He couldn’t see her anymore. The ramp was too high.
Esposito was poised on the edge. “Eleven o’clock!”
“Take it!” He fired twice, knocking the man back, but another took his position. Esposito fired again, pinning the man behind the rail.
Sebastian spotted the rocket tip a second before it launched. “Incoming! Hold on!” He pulled back on the stick and the aircraft rose high and hard, banking left over clear ice. The RPG shot under them. Sebastian swore, and a moment later, Ice Harvest exploded.
The air blistered with curses and he circled back to the ship, but knew he’d lost his chance. The ramp was up, the ship in open water, and he took his anguish out on the Russians. “Going postal!” He opened fire, leveling the fucking playing field as he dove over the massive ship, fifty-caliber machine guns ripping a double stream. Bodies dropped, equipment shattered, bullets sparked off a missile half lowered into the bay. It gave him no satisfaction and the misery of acceptance started to sink in. He couldn’t land or assault to get her back, not now, but needed to track the Northern Lion and the ships closing in on her position.
“God, sir,” Esposito said. “I’m sorry. The doc—”
His throat tightened hard and he swallowed before he spoke. “We’ll get her back. We’re low on fuel. Max, tell me you tagged her clothes.”
“All but her lingerie.”
He wouldn’t sleep till she was safe, and his mind turned over immediate possibilities. He glanced at Max wildly tuning the radio controls, changing frequencies.
Then he looked up, stricken. “No communication with Ice Harvest. None. It’s just dead air.”
Veta ran as Dimitri fell to the iron deck. She knelt beside him. Covering the wound in his shoulder, she demanded the doctor, a stretcher, then she pulled off her blanket and stuffed it against his wound. She spoke to him, blinking back tears. He wasn’t responding and she patted his face. He opened his eyes.
“I have failed you.” She shook her head and screamed for help again. Then she swept her fingers over the contours of his face. She heard footsteps and the doctor knelt, throwing aside her blanket, then pushing Dimitri on his side to check the exit wound. It was hideously torn and she grabbed cloth and stuffed it in the hole. Four men came forward with a stretcher and quickly transported Dimitri onto it, then started for the upper deck ladders.
“Lock her up!” she ordered, and Stefan grabbed the woman’s arm. Veta hurried after Dimitri. “The infirmary, quickly!” She squeezed ahead, clearing a path, and the men laid the stretcher on the exam table. She stepped back, and the doctor ordered his clothing cut away as he washed and pulled on latex gloves.
Dimitri hadn’t opened his eyes yet, and Veta took a step closer, only to be asked by the doctor to leave, that she was not sanitary. She turned away, clutching the translation, its plastic casing bloodied and wet. She rushed to her cabin, entering and slamming the door. She could not bear it if he died, and paced the stateroom, searching for calm. She laid the package aside, then used t
he intercom to be certain the woman was secured before she washed away the blood and changed into dry clothes. It did nothing to stall her impatience, and she checked the time. She was surprised at how much had passed and grabbed her waterproof bag, then left the room, her steps brisk, for the infirmary. She entered and stopped short. Dimitri lay still on the table, his body wrapped in blankets. A metal bowl of bloodstained cloths was on a tall tray beside him. The doctor washed his hands, then stripped off his bloody lab coat. He pulled on his parka.
She held the bag to her chest. “How is he?”
“He will live. The bullet went clean through, but he’s lost considerable blood and must remain still and warm.” The doctor crossed, checked the IV and blood plasma. A monitor registered Dimitri’s heartbeat. “He cannot be left alone and I must see to the wounded and the dead.” His look was accusatory.
“I will have that duty first,” she said, ignoring his insubordination. Today had not gone as planned, and she was well aware of the price paid. Her heart felt heavy, but they all knew the risks and had agreed to them. The missiles were already belowdecks and she was pleased with their performance. The Americans were unexpected and while she wasn’t certain where they’d come from so quickly, she would learn it. She owed it to her men.
The doctor left her alone in the chilled sterile room. She sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze was on Dimitri. He was breathing in oxygen, his pale skin brightening ever so slightly. Seeing that tubing under his nose reminded her his health was fragile, and she leaned to press a kiss to his forehead. His skin was cold and she left the bed to grab another blanket. She covered him, then found a padded chair and pulled it beneath her as she sat. She looked down at the heavy bundle on her lap, then to Dimitri.
She’d had forsaken God for taking her father and then her mother. For allowing so many to die. Yet now she begged Him. Dimitri must live. She needed him.
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