Book Read Free

Arctic Firepath (Sean Quinlan Book 2)

Page 24

by Dominic Conlon


  The Prime Minister turned to the American President. ‘Yes. Without a shadow of a doubt.’

  The A400M Atlas descended to 15,000 feet and the load-master returned to prepare Sean and Khostov.

  ‘Gentlemen, we still have a depression over the landing zone, so we will have to drop you well clear. Even so, you’ll find the winds are gusty and visibility is not good.’ He turned to Khostov. ‘Have you parachuted before?’

  ‘No.’ Khostov looked helpless.

  Sean clapped him on the back. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after you.’ He winked at the load-master. ‘I need to deliver this fragile package right side up.’

  He checked Khostov’s harness and rigging line and gave the thumbs up. In turn, the load-master double checked Sean’s parachute.

  The bay door began to open, and immediately a freezing wind filled the interior.

  ‘Here,’ shouted the load-master, clipping a black box, the size of a match-box, to their webbing. ‘It’s a homing beacon, so the Yanks can find you.’

  The ramp was now fully open, and snow blasted into the cabin. They hustled along the ramp.

  ‘What do I do?’ Khostov’s voice quavered.

  ‘Don’t worry about your chute,’ explained Sean. ‘It will open automatically. I’ll be right behind you. When you get near to the ground, make sure you put your legs together, and bend them at the knees. Don’t try to resist the ground when you meet it. It’s perfectly alright to fall - just remember to keep your legs together and your knees bent.’

  The load-master listened to his helmet speaker, then gave the thumbs-up sign. Sean leaned over Khostov and shouted in his ear. ‘Time to go.’ With that, he pushed him off the ramp and they both dropped into the void.

  The airstream hit Sean immediately and within seconds he lost sight of Khostov. Frantically he twisted round, looking for any sign. Seconds passed, and he caught a brown smudge in the periphery; Khostov had not fallen as far as he imagined. He pulled the chute cords to bring him closer, but the unexpected changes of wind direction didn’t help. Eventually he positioned himself above and to the side of Khostov so he could watch him land.

  They descended slowly, but their speed over the ground was too fast. He saw Khostov land hard, legs straight and apart. In the heat of the moment he had forgotten to take Sean’s advice. He was dragged along by the wind, his body flopping behind his chute like a puppet.

  Sean landed, kept upright and began running as soon as he touched down. He stabbed the release buckle and shrugged off the harness. The parachute was whisked away in an instant. Turning, Sean ran back.

  Khostov lay still, face down on the ice.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The PM put the phone down.

  ‘I apologise for the interruption, gentlemen. That was a member of my security service.’

  He turned to both of the Presidents. ‘Unfortunately this is turning into a bit of a marathon. You may terminate the meeting whenever you wish. I have kept you much longer than I intended.’

  When both Presidents showed no signs of leaving, the Prime Minister Ashdown indicated some nearby armchairs. ‘Very well, let’s sit, shall we? My legs are not what they used to be.’

  The PM waited a moment, then picked up the red file. He made a show of scanning the first page, giving the impression he was recalling the contents. He pressed the remote to display a still photograph of Khostov on the big TV screen.

  ‘This is Alexei Khostov, an eminent nuclear physicist. He left Russia and came to London several weeks ago.’

  Ashdown studied Pavla Duskin. ‘We were puzzled why your government sent a team of people to the UK to hunt him down. As a direct result, four innocent men and women were murdered in London, before Khostov fled to France.’

  The Russian President shrugged indifferently. ‘A gross lie.’

  ‘We can prove this,’ responded the PM, flipping a page. ‘Here is a copy of the report from our security services confirming the DNA of two of the group at both murders.’

  ‘Any evidence is fabricated.’

  Ashdown’s eyebrows rose a fraction, plainly indicating his incredulity. ‘We tracked Khostov to France, and managed to extract him from the clutches of the remainder of the gang before they could shoot him dead.’

  There was an uneasy stillness as both Presidents absorbed the information.

  ‘Khostov is now at a safe location,’ continued the PM. ‘In exchange for the return of his son from Russia, he has provided us with the real reason why he has been hunted so vigorously by your security apparatus.’

  Prime Minister Ashdown flicked over a page in the file. ‘The phone call I received was from a team of translators. They deciphered the documents Khostov hid when he defected to us. They tell us why you wanted Khostov so badly.’

  Pavla Duskin jumped up and regarded President Donahue. ‘Alexei Khostov was once a great scientist for Russia. Unfortunately he grew to like fame too much, and craved to become even more famous. He liked the good life, the lavish dinners and expensive cars. He is wanted in Russia because he embezzled 15 million roubles to sustain his lifestyle. But I repeat we did not send anyone to hunt him down, as you so crudely put it.’

  ‘Alexei Khostov,’ interjected the PM, ‘was a well-respected figure in Kremlin circles. Khostov was brought in to advise on the design of the reactor for your Floating Nuclear Power Plant program. Secretly he also wanted to find out about the embezzlement of millions of roubles from the project. He discovered the scam was achieved by setting up a shell company. Money was funnelled through a series of bank accounts to one person, someone at the top echelons of power.’

  ‘Your claim is preposterous. The man is a scientist, not an undercover agent.’

  Prime Minister Terrance Ashdown smiled. ‘It was precisely because he was such a highly respected scientist he agreed to join the project.’

  Duskin remained tight lipped.

  ‘All the money found its way back to one man,’ continued Ashdown. ‘And that man is in front of me now.’

  The silence in the room was profound.

  ‘At least you have the decency to look stunned,’ barked Ashdown.

  The Russian President smiled grimly. ‘I am stunned by the scale of your ignorance and the impertinence of your accusation. You have no proof of this whatsoever.’

  The Prime Minister turned over another page. ‘There you and I differ. But it would be an interesting exercise, would it not, to see what the media and the press make about these claims. The story would run for a long time if they were fed small pieces. And there would be only one outcome.’

  There was another protracted silence.

  ‘I need both of you to think about what I said. We will meet again in two hours’ time when you will have considered what is at stake. In the meantime, gentlemen, I bid you good evening.’

  The Prime Minister collected the three coloured files and left the room. The Presidents eyed each other, gauging the other’s reaction. For a moment there was a hostile silence between them.

  They both turned and walked out.

  ‘Well done Thomas!’

  Captain White clapped his XO on the back. Thomas had honed the process of preparing the sailors for the rescue module down to a fine art. As soon as one group entered the Pressurised Rescue Module, Thomas was readying the next for the escape chamber. The second party took the longest because they included the injured. Two sailors required stretchers and that took up valuable room as well as making it awkward to manoeuvre them up the vertical shaft into the PRM. There had been a long delay when LK-80 was bombed, but apart from that the shuttle worked like clockwork.

  For those remaining in the submarine, the conditions were much improved. The rescue pod brought fresh oxygen cylinders and more portable CO2 scrubbers, so the air became breathable. But their rescuers were not able to do much about the cold. Thomas encouraged those outside the escape hatch to move about and exercise in an effort to keep them warm. Whenever Thomas spotted any member of the remai
ning crew suffering seriously, he brought them to the front of the queue for the next trip to the surface.

  Captain White was genuinely pleased with how his XO had moved about the men, checking to see if they needed anything, swapping a story here and there and keeping their spirits up. He made a mental note to recommend Thomas for a medal of commendation when he returned to Groton.

  Once on board LK-80, each man was briefly checked by a medic before being transferred to a RIB, then to the base camp, and from there onto a waiting cargo plane. Two air round trips had already been made, each carrying a group from the submarine and part of the base personnel to safety. The plane stood on the runway, waiting for the last party.

  The submarine looked almost empty with just 17 sailors left. They would need two more visits by the rescue capsule to return all the crew topsides. Captain White tried not to think about the five bodies laid out in the medical bay. Thomas volunteered to remain behind with the Captain, so they could man-handle the bodies into the PRM for the final transfer. It would make the journey to the surface a touch grim, but the Captain felt it would be only fitting to accompany the seamen who had lost their lives.

  Sean switched on the homing beacon and rummaged in his rucksack.

  Khostov had landed badly, his ankle either broken or sprained. Sean found a small first aid kit which the RAF had thoughtfully included. Using a bandage, he bound the ankle to Khostov’s other leg, temporarily immobilising him. He would have a more thorough check when they reached the American base.

  Here on the ground the wind had quietened, but visibility remained poor. Sean thought about helping to carry Khostov towards the Americans, but he knew they were already on their way. He decided it would be better to conserve energy, and struggled to get Khostov into a survival bag.

  While waiting he gazed up through the falling snow. He could hear several aircraft patrolling above. Less than five minutes later the Americans arrived on Skidoos. One of the machines pulled a sled, and Sean helped to move Khostov onto it, and hopped on to the spare seat.

  Twenty minutes later they approached the military camp. When they arrived, soldiers lifted Khostov into a hut. The medic examined Khostov’s ankle, and Sean was handed a hot mug of coffee.

  A big soldier beckoned and they moved to stand outside of Khostov’s earshot.

  ‘I’m Major Pierce.’ He began to brief Sean on what to expect. ‘Most of the submarine crew have left. The Russians have imposed a deadline to evacuate the ship and our base. He looked at his watch. We should be finished in the next two hours, but we’ll leave a skeleton team on board LK-80 to look after the reactor. Everyone else will be evacuated. One plane is standing by for the remainder.’ He pointed towards the cargo carrier.

  ‘What about the air cover?’

  ‘They’ll stay aloft until we go.’

  ‘What’s the latest on the reactor?’

  ‘The engineers managed to delay a meltdown for now.’ Major Pierce nodded towards Khostov. ‘Thanks to him. They hope when he arrives he’ll stop it happening altogether.’

  ‘Then the sooner we get over there, the better.’

  ‘No-one’s keener than me to sew up this job.’

  They moved back to Khostov, and the medic glanced up. ‘He has a sprained ankle, is all. I’ve bound it to a plastic heel support, so he should be able to move OK.’

  ‘Right,’ said the Major. ‘Let’s get you over to the ship.’

  He accompanied them to a steel jetty erected on the edge of the ice and helped Khostov onto a waiting RIB. The journey to LK-80 was short. When Khostov noticed the steepness of the ladder, he glanced briefly at Sean. Major Pierce caught the look. ‘Allow me, prof.’ He bent, directing Khostov to grip his shoulders. Without a second’s hesitation he carried Khostov piggy-back style up the steep rungs. Sean watched in admiration. The big man was climbing the ladder with Khostov on his back faster than Sean could with a rucksack.

  When Sean and Khostov reached the deck, they saw a group of sailors being led to several RIBs on the port side. The men were wearing shiny metallic survival blankets, accompanied by American troops.

  ‘From the submarine?’ queried Khostov.

  Major Pierce nodded. ‘I’ll take you to the plant operations room.’

  Entry was aft of the Bridge on Bridge Deck 4, through a set of double doors. Major Pierce keyed in a number to the external combination lock and held the door open for Khostov and Sean.

  The room was huge, the height of two decks. Sean was overwhelmed by the number of controls which ran around the three walls opposite. The panels were covered in a multitude of dials and switches, which extended out into the room at desk height. A harsh light illuminated the space, giving the impression they had entered an operating theatre. Two men dressed in white overalls were tending a console.

  They turned as Major Pierce approached. He introduced Sean and Khostov.

  ‘I’ll leave you three to get acquainted,’ said Sean. ‘Meanwhile perhaps Major Pierce here could give me a quick tour of the ship?’

  The Major nodded agreement and they left Khostov in a huddle with the two nuclear engineers.

  The movement was so quick Sean almost dismissed it. He stopped in his tracks, and held up his hand. Behind him, Major Pierce paused too. Silently Sean pointed to the port side, and the Major quietly crossed the deck. Sean marvelled at how quickly the big man moved. He would be an incredible asset to the Section. Together they crept forward, keeping low. Sean climbed the companionway up to Bridge Deck 3. Although he couldn’t see Pierce, he knew he was doing the same on the port side.

  When Sean stepped onto the deck, he spotted the wraith again - this time in human form. The man appeared to be swaddled in layers of odd clothing. A couple of old sacks tied around the middle completed the strange picture. He slunk into a cabin. Sean caught sight of Pierce opposite and signalled for the marine to follow. Seconds later the Major joined him and they observed the man through the window.

  He was bent over a safe, twiddling the combination. They watched as he withdrew a large brown envelope and stuffed it beneath the sacks and other layers he was wearing. Sean nodded, and Major Pierce opened the door silently. Sean followed him in.

  The effect was almost comical. The man did a double take, then looked towards the exit. Sean could see the cogs whirring. The door represented his only means of escape - could he make it past the two of them?

  ‘Who are you?’ His voice was barely a whisper.

  ‘What’s more to the point - who are you, and what are you doing here?’ Sean responded.

  ‘This is my cabin.’ The man gazed around the walls. ‘And I am the Captain of this ship.’

  ‘And the packet?’

  The Captain’s face fell. Perhaps he thought they hadn’t seen him tuck the envelope into his clothes.

  ‘Give!’ Sean held out his hand.

  Reluctantly the Captain handed it over. Sean noted the red seal had already been broken. He opened the flap and withdrew several sheets of parchment-like paper. The writing was in Cyrillic. He showed it to Major Pierce, who shrugged his shoulders. Sean scanned the text for a few moments. ‘These look like orders.’

  The Captain nodded.

  ‘So you can ..’

  The ship shuddered as a loud explosion ripped through the midsection.

  ‘Keep an eye on him,’ Sean told Pierce. ‘I’m going to check what that was about.’

  Sean ran up the companionway to the reactor operations room. Khostov and the two American engineers stood outside.

  ‘What the hell happened?’

  Khostov’s face was pale. ‘I was pumping out seawater from the primary circuit when the seals went. I’m surprised they lasted as long as they did. Between the reactor core and the containment vessel the neutron-absorbing shield is now empty.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  Khostov shuddered. ‘The explosion you heard was some of the material finding its way into the secondary coolant system. When that happened, it vented
explosively. I’ve failed to reduce the temperature in the reactor.’

  Sean shook Khostov by the shoulders. ‘Tell me, what does it mean?’

  Khostov’s sigh was long and deep. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do to stop the core reaching meltdown.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Major Pierce and Captain Grigori joined the group. They moved inside the operations control room, and shut the door against the freezing cold.

  ‘How long do we have?’ Pierce asked.

  ‘A couple of hours,’ Khostov responded.

 

‹ Prev