Ninth Cycle Antarctica: A Thriller (A Rossler Foundation Mystery Book 2)

by JC Ryan

  JR had left the meeting with an unholy sense of glee about the fireworks that may occur between LeClerc and Summers between now and the time they were all extracted to go home. He’d had nothing but contempt for LeClerc for weeks now, ever since his error in planning for the original long trip from McMurdo to Amundsen-Scott overland. Maybe after they’d been in-country for a while, the expedition members could have adjusted, as he had, to smaller rations, but not when they were so green. JR had known Marines who would have fragged an officer for such an oversight. It was inexcusable. The leader has to be capable of protecting the troops at all times. LeClerc reminded him of a banty rooster; always crowing but without the importance he gave himself. Summers was doing a better job, even though it should have been LeClerc stepping up and it burdened Summers with having to pay attention to logistics when he was there to study and analyze what they were finding, or not finding.

  JR mentally counted the remaining expedition members. Summers, LeClerc, Bart, Rebecca, himself, Misty, Carmen, the two Foundation scientists, who else? Robert, of course, Angela, the cartographer and Cyndi, the electronics engineer. Oh, and Roosky. Thirteen. At least two too many for the remaining Sno-Cat, if they crowded some of the women two to a seat. But now they needed a different set than before. Summers, Bart and Robert were essential, as was Rebecca. They’d returned to base for Roosky, they needed Cyndi to make sure the drone was in good shape and Angela to draft the maps.

  That left LeClerc, himself, Misty, Carmen, the two RF researchers, at least three of whom needed to stay on base. He was going, even if he had to chase the rest on a snowmobile, and he suspected LeClerc would insist on taking his rightful place rather than be left behind, even if he was against the mission. JR went looking for Misty to see if she was willing to fight for a spot, after which he’d try to talk to Summers about it, and let him know that LeClerc was conspiring against him behind his back.

  Chapter 17 - Play Misty For Me

  Misty wasn’t in the room they’d been assigned, so JR went to the canteen and the gym. Finding her in neither of the most likely places, he poked his head into the lounge before ascertaining she wasn’t there either. That left the communications room, but it would have been odd for her to be there, as the group had an assigned time to use the computers, and this wasn’t it. Still, thoroughness required he check there. Mindful that some people might be using the satellite phones, JR opened the door quietly to glance around. A familiar swath of shining blond hair caught his attention. Misty. She was here after all, but why?

  Thinking to startle her for a bit of fun, JR crept stealthily up behind where Misty sat, whispering ‘boo’ and tugging at her hair when he reached her. The reaction was as satisfying as he’d hoped. Misty shrieked, jumped in her seat and turned, but somehow managed to blank the screen at the same time.

  “What are you doing, Misty?” JR asked, teasingly. Misty stood and pressed herself against him.

  “Oh, just surfing the ‘net,” she said. JR frowned. Then why had she made sure to blank the screen? He closed his eyes briefly, trying to recall what had been on it with his last glimpse. When he opened them, Misty was reaching behind her, searching blindly for the button that would turn the computer off completely. JR’s hand lashed out and caught her wrist.

  “Are you being naughty, searching out porn, sweetheart?” Her guilty look almost made him believe it. Aside from the fact that it was against base policy, he wouldn’t have cared, but considering their relationship, he also didn’t think she’d hide it from him. “Let’s see.”

  “No!” she cried, lunging again for the tower’s off button. But JR was faster. Using the wrist that he still had trapped, he swung her into his other arm and held her fast while he hit the space bar to bring the screen back to life. What he saw confused and then enraged him.

  “How long?” he demanded. Misty refused to speak. He squeezed her tighter. “Is this why you…never mind, don’t answer that. We’re going to go see Summers, sweetheart, and I’d rather not have to hurt you, so come along like a good girl.” He asked the sergeant that was checking people in and out and assigning computers to secure the one Misty had been using. The man hadn’t even noticed their little altercation, so JR told him it was a matter of national security, causing him to turn white and stammer that he’d guard it himself. As JR left, herding Misty along with him, he heard the man raise his voice and tell the other occupants that the room was now closed and they’d have to leave.

  JR strode through the halls, heedless of Misty’s frequent missteps and the fact that she was having to practically run to keep up with his long stride. He had her securely held in his left arm and whenever she faltered, he just kept going, holding her up and letting her find her footing on her own. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry. Maybe when he ran out into the ice while Daniel and Sarah were visiting, but he didn’t think he’d been this mad even then.

  No, it was probably the day his squad had run amok after finding an Al Qaeda nest in a small village. They’d run into an ambush, and as soon as the first of his men dropped, the others literally shredded the village with automatic weapons fire. When it was done, not only the terrorists were down, but also several old men, a couple of women, one of them pregnant, and three children were dead.

  JR had lost his lunch, breakfast and to tell the truth, most of the last week’s meals when he’d seen the pregnant woman, her hands clutching an enormous wound in her belly, covered in more blood than he’d seen in both of his previous deployments put together. He’d cried, screamed, and punched out several of his men before others restrained him. He’d finally been sedated by a medic that his shaken troops called for.

  One corporal, who’d stood aside when it started and refused to join in, testified at the tribunal that the squad had opened fire with JR yelling ‘hold your fire’, so he was cleared of any wrongdoing. But he’d never forget the sight of those innocent dead men and women, or the children. Or the baby, oh God, the baby, who’d never had a chance to draw breath. The scene became his nightmare, haunting him awake or asleep, sneaking up on him to make him break out in a cold sweat. No matter what anyone said, the blood of innocent human beings was on his hands.

  This time, though, he wouldn’t let it distract him from the wrong that Misty had done him, done the Foundation. He wanted her to pay, but he was exercising a will stronger than he’d known he had, to restrain himself from exacting the punishment himself. He knew he had only himself to blame for consorting with her; he’d deal with his anger over that. But, that she was endangering the expedition by spying and reporting to someone outside the Foundation would mean she’d be subject to law. Beyond her betrayal of him, beyond his disgust with himself for not seeing her true character, and somewhat to his own surprise, he felt outraged at the betrayal of his brother’s Foundation and its ideals. He hoped she’d spend a long time in jail.

  His frenetic analysis was winding down when he arrived at the staging area where Summers and Robert had joined the re-supply effort. Misty was literally gasping for breath, and JR’s face was both grim and red from his race through the base. Their abrupt appearance startled everyone in the area.

  “Summers, I just caught this little bitch sending an email to someone, and it revealed sensitive information. She’s a spy!” JR roared, still too agitated to moderate his tone of voice.

  “Whoa, JR, settle down. What’s all this?”

  With an effort, JR quelled his desire to shout, and spoke in a more normal volume, but with his teeth still clenched and his tone still dripping with disgust and rage.

  “I found her in the comms room. Sneaked up behind her to surprise her, and she acted suspicious, blanked the screen. I hung onto her and opened the screen again, and it was an email to someone, saying we’ve discovered that cave system, and giving a GPS location. I think it also said send someone, sorry, I didn’t read it all. Too busy trying to keep her from running. One of the military guys is guarding it so you can see it. What do you wan
t me to do with her?”

  Summers could see that JR’s preference would be to tear her limb from limb, so he thought it prudent to have her taken into custody by the military. In the commotion, neither he nor anyone else saw the significant looks she sent to two of the other expedition members. But, they knew they’d just been activated.

  The return trek to the cave was delayed by a couple of days while Summers made arrangements for Misty to be held in a secure location, since they couldn’t deal with her legal infractions until they got back to Boulder. He also read the email she’d been composing when JR caught her at it, several times. When he was done, he compressed his lips and went back to Andersen to request that the computer be taken off-line until an expert could attempt to trace the destination for this message and any others she might have sent from the guest account. He then called Boulder and reported the security breach, suggesting that Daniel have Raj call and talk to the IT people at the base, so he could direct their analysis and hopefully ameliorate any damage Misty had already done. Finally, he asked, bitterly, if Daniel would go back to the firm that had done the background checks and ask them to dig deeper. They couldn’t afford another mole in their midst.

  JR, devastated by this latest evidence that he was a failure, took advantage of the down time by digging out the last half-bottle of the scotch he’d brought with him. It was barely enough to get a buzz, but he needed a way to kill the mental images that were torturing him. He’d gone from killing babies to sleeping with a fucking spy, probably an OS plant. Misty laughing as he chased her, back in Boulder, or splashing him in the swimming pool while he leered at her in her tiny bikini. Misty feeding him from her plate when he took her out to dinner, daring him to taste delicacies from Thai and Vietnamese menus, insisting he close his eyes and open his mouth so she could place some potentially disgusting morsel on his tongue with chopsticks. The delectable flavor of those morsels that he never would have guessed. Misty lying provocatively posed in his bed, her unbelievably perfect body his for the taking. Misty in his arms, her face serene below him as he…Son of a bitch! He had to stop thinking about it.

  JR took another slug, sent his mind prowling for something else to think about, and shied away from the memory of that pregnant woman that he’d tried to suppress only to bring it back while wondering when he’d last been so angry. In no time at all, he’d emptied the bottle, but it hadn’t had the effect he wanted, needed. Shit, he could still smell Misty’s scent in his sheets. He got up to tear them off the bed and banged his head on the too-low ceiling, forgetting to duck. Swearing profusely, he ripped the sheets from the bed and headed to the laundry, bumping into Roosky on the way.

  “JR, comrade! You look ne v dukhe, am I right? How you say it, out of sorts?”

  “Roosky, buddy, I’m worse than that. I’m pissed off, and only half drunk enough. You don’t have any vodka, do you?”

  “Ha, of course I have vodka. I am russkiy, yes? Russkiy always have vodka. Come, together we will drink it, make big p’yanyyi, drunk, yes?”

  JR dropped the sheets where he stood, and followed Roosky to his room, where he hugged the big Russian extravagantly when he produced two bottles of Moskovskaya, a rye-based Russian vodka that would serve to get him so shitfaced he’d stop thinking altogether. Within the hour, the two of them were bonded drinking buddies, and Roosky had taught JR several drinking songs…in Russian.

  His favorite was "Do svidan'ia, goroda i khaty", and he’d memorized the first verse with only a few errors before he’d had more than three shots of the vodka.

  Do svidan'ia, goroda i khaty,

  Nas doroga dal'niaia zoviot.

  Molodye, smelye rebiata,

  Na zare ukhodim my v pokhod.

  After that, his tongue got tangled up and he couldn’t negotiate the Russian syllables. It was a jaunty song, very upbeat, and it made him happy in his drunken state. Then, he asked Roosky what it meant. Roosky translated all four verses:

  Good bye, towns and peasants’ houses,

  A long journey is waiting us.

  We are young, brave fellows

  And we are going in a campaign at the dawn.

  Girls, come at the dawn,

  To see off our komsomol detachment.

  Girls, do not be sad without us

  We shall win and go back.

  We shall scatter enemy storm-clouds,

  We shall disperse all the obstacles on our way,

  And an enemy will not avoid an inevitable death,

  He will not survive from finding himself in the grave.

  There is a great hour of a requital,

  Our people gave us a weapon.

  Good bye, towns and peasants’ houses, -

  We are going in a campaign at the dawn.

  By then end of it, with the refrain ‘we are going in a campaign at the dawn’, JR was morose again. “What the hell kind of a drinking song is that?” Roosky, also more than a little impaired, took offense.

  “We have great songs for the drinking! None of your decadent capitalist silliness. All of our songs were made in the great war!”

  This prompted JR to begin chanting, “War, huh, yeah! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Uh-huh War, huh, yeah! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Say it again, y'all”, but somehow it merged into the Marine marching song, “Over hill, over dale as we hit the dusty trail, and those caissons go rolling, along.” He finished with a rousing “OOH Rah!”, and Roosky gave him a high-five.

  “You are A-OK, my friend,” Roosky said, clutching JR in a hug that was truly worthy of the term ‘bear hug’, and kissing him on both cheeks just before they both fell sideways onto the bed – passed out.

  When Summers came to Roosky’s room to ask him whether his equipment and supplies were on the sled, he found the two of them sprawled on the bed, snoring loudly, each with an empty bottle in one hand.

  “Where the hell…? Did everyone but me bring liquor on this trip?”

  Summers searched out Rebecca to ask her when she thought the two drunkards would be ready to travel. After a quick look at them from the doorway, the smell being too much for her to get any closer, she said they could probably leave within the next twenty-four hours, but they probably wouldn’t enjoy it much.

  “Serves them right,” Summers said.

  “I agree,” said Rebecca. Privately, she was very disappointed in JR. When they started their journey, she doubted he’d be any use at all, but there had been plenty of times that he’d impressed her, especially when he refused extra rations on the trek from McMurdo to the Pole. Even though it annoyed her that he and Misty carried on the way they did, she couldn’t help but admire JR’s good qualities when he demonstrated them. This, however, was not one of them.

  Still, in her heart, she wanted to give him a pass, knowing that his acting-out was triggered by his own demons, which arose every time he blamed himself for a mistake. She began to realize then, what it would take for him to be the man he was meant to be. He needed someone to believe in him. Could she put up with his shenanigans to become that someone?

  Chapter 18 –No Time Left

  Auster listened to her operative in disbelief. Her carefully-prepared mole had been discovered and rendered useless. A call from Summers to Rossler had been intercepted with the details. Her plans to take over leadership of the Orion Society lay in ruins, and, even worse, she had no eyes or ears with the polar expedition.

  “Can you extract the girl without betraying our organization, Latet?”

  “No, ma’am. She’s incarcerated at the South Pole base, and won’t be coming out until the expedition packs it in at the end of this month. I don’t expect her to be in an exposed position at any time between now and the time she goes to trial on charges of espionage.”

  “Will she hold her tongue?”

  “Unknown. She’s young, and others we have embedded in the Rossler Foundation report her to be something of a scatterbrain. Most of them used the word ‘airhead’.”

  �
�Why in the world did we send her, then?” Auster demanded, beginning to understand why the former Septentrio had so many operatives killed, and his son even more.

  “She had gained the trust of Rossler’s younger brother, JR. By all accounts, he was sent on the expedition against his will, and we thought that she might be able to turn him at some point. Apparently not, however. He’s the one who caught her attempting to send a communique to us and turned her in.”

  “Latet, this is a disaster, I don’t need to tell you. Is it possible to trace her reports to you? Do you need to go underground?”

  “We don’t think so. I will be watching for any sign that they’ve been able to do so, and will take appropriate measures if they begin to get close.”

  “Very well. I don’t need to tell you that we must know what the expedition finds, preferably before anyone else. What are you doing about fixing this problem?”

  “With all due respect, ma’am, I feel it’s better you don’t know, so that you’ll have plausible deniability if necessary. Rest assured, I am taking steps.”

  “Carry on, then, and let me know when you have anything to report.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Auster regarded the screen thoughtfully after Latet had broken the connection. Was it the quality of the video, or had there been something? That one would bear watching. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind when a faint smile appeared on her lips and she chastised herself silently. They all bore watching. Sidus’ perfidy had taught them that. Latet’s predecessor had been prepared to give all of them up to save himself when they were trying to capture the Pyramid Code data before it was decrypted.

  Fortunately, there were always young operatives eager to prove themselves. Sidus had died at the hands of Septentrio himself while in CIA custody, along with one of his minders. Frankly, it had surprised her and the other two. Septentrio had always been something of a nancy-boy, according to his father. How strange that he would turn out to be even more ruthless than his illustrious parent.