Turbulent Wake (Jason Wake Book 4)

by Matthew Rief

  Since the four had left, there were eight of them, each fully armed and obviously well trained. She had no chance of taking them all down by herself with a single pistol, so her only option was to run for it—to get the hell out of there and inform Scott and the rest of the team what was going on.

  Four men were hustling as fast as they could in crampons across the glacier. If what the Korean guy had said was true, then there was also a handful of his men motoring in on snowmobiles from the opposite side. She needed to get ahold of Jason.

  “She’s not here,” the man above her said in an English accent.

  Who the hell are these guys? Alejandra thought, puzzled by the diversity of the group.

  Pieces of loose snow fell beside Alejandra as the guy shifted position. Peeking skyward, she could barely see the bottom of his face. She set her pistol on the beach, pulled out her knife, and calmed her breathing. Just as the man began to turn around, he made eye contact with her.

  He froze, his eyes bulging, and in a flash, Alejandra sprang from her position, grabbed hold of his jacket, and buried her blade into the base of his neck. The man gagged from the sudden fatal blow, and Alejandra yanked him forward, shoving him onto his back and trying to keep him quiet so the others wouldn’t be alerted. But it was too late for that.

  The moment the dying man hit the sand, a yell tore across the air. Alejandra dropped down, snatched her pistol, then rolled and took aim just as a second guy appeared around the corner. Two shots to the chest put him down.

  More yells and barking orders followed as Alejandra made a mad dash for the RHIB. She lunged and dove, flying over the bow and sliding into the transom. The force of her landing was just enough to nudge the boat into the lake, and she spun around rapidly and fired up the engine. It whined as she gave the motor everything it had, turning sharply and accelerating away from the beach.

  Bullets rattled off from her back, splashing into the water around her and peppering the transom. Keeping low as rounds whizzed by overhead, she maneuvered behind an iceberg, then zigzagged her way across the lagoon as bullets tore chunks of ice free. The motor began to spit black smoke as she neared the opposite side. Turning sharply toward the outlet and the river they’d used to wind up to the remote lake, Alejandra forced the craft to its full speed of forty knots, fighting to reach her only means of salvation.

  Just as she turned into the river, shots broke out again. With the side of the RHIB exposed, two rounds punctured the port pontoon, throwing the craft off-balance and tossing Alejandra from the cockpit.

  FOUR

  Jason accelerated straight down, broken pieces of ice crumbling all around him. Twisting his body around, the covert operative swung his right arm in a desperate attempt to strike his axe, slow his drop, and avoid slamming into the jagged rocks fifty feet below. The titanium tip cracked through the crystalline surface but didn’t catch firmly enough to stop his rapid descent. It screeched along, carving through the frozen wall.

  Jason held on tight as his momentum caused the axe to carve sideways, dousing his body under the freezing waterfall. The tip finally caught, stopping in an instant and forcing Jason to squeeze with everything he had to prevent slipping free. Dangling above the cavern floor with arctic water showering over him, Jason looked up toward the top of the falls as Ragnar called his name.

  “Hold on!” the guide shouted.

  Jason wanted to yell back that Ragnar’s advice was inspiring, but the harsh cold numbed his body and made it impossible for him to get a word out. Blinking, Jason fought to see a way out, but his gaze was blurry, and the cold bit at his eyes. Feeling his arm begin to shake, he wondered how much longer he could stay up there, when the end of a rope smacked against his body.

  Jason grabbed the nylon with his free hand, did his best to dig his crampons into the sleek surface, then pressed his legs powerfully while removing the axe. Swinging along the column, he splashed out of the roaring water and caught himself just beyond its unrelenting grasp.

  He caught his first glimpse of Ragnar, the Icelander having reached the top and holding onto the tied-off line. Using a combination of the rope, tool, and his crampons, Jason forced himself to the top, heaving over the ledge and resting on a knee before rising to his feet.

  “That was one hell of a save,” Ragnar said, his serious expression displaying amazement. “You must have one hell of a guardian angel watching your back. Though I wouldn’t test them like that again.”

  “That ship sailed a long time ago.”

  “I told you the ice can be temperamental. Especially this time of year.”

  Jason shrugged off the ordeal and brushed back his wet hair. “You were right. At least I’m fully awake now.”

  Ragnar grabbed a spare sweater from his bag and handed it to Jason. “Not sure how you’re not shivering. That suit is something else.”

  Jason dried his hair with the garment, then pulled out his headlamp and flicked on the beam. “We get out of here alive, and I’ll give you one.”

  “You ice-climbed before?” Ragnar asked.

  Jason stared in awe at the chamber, the water flowing over the edge beside them and thundering far below. “Not like that.”

  After stowing their climbing tools and removing their crampons, Ragnar aimed the beam of his flashlight down the narrow opening. “We’re venturing into the unknown from here on out. Keep your wits sharp.”

  Leaving the rope dangling down the precipice so they could use it to rappel down on the trip back, the two pressed on into the dark unknown. The going was slow as the cave wound and dipped and rose at every turn. Sheer drop-offs welcomed them at every corner, waiting for them to take one unplanned step that would prove to be their last. Upon reaching a fork in the cave, Ragnar removed a 3D printout of the landscape that had been created from a flyover sweep by a plane with a high-tech radar performed earlier that day. The ground-penetrating radar had given the position of the shipwreck, roughly a quarter of a mile farther along. Needing to pick a route, Ragnar followed his instincts, and the two continued.

  Ten minutes later, they arrived upon a cramped cavity nearly filled to the top with rocks and broken-off slabs of the glacier.

  “Looks recent,” Jason said, examining the effects of a cave-in.

  “Should be just over this pile.”

  Scaling the rocks, they squeezed through the opening at the top and shone their lights into a dark chamber. Both men stared in silence as the beams lit up piles of newly fallen rocks mixed with splintered planks of wood.

  “Nice work,” Jason said, patting the guide on the back.

  The Icelander didn’t say anything, and his face didn’t sway from his solemn expression. Rocks, ice, and broken portions of the ship weren’t the only things spread across the cavern. Jason counted three bodies, all in full hazmat suits, scattered about and partially covered by the debris.

  “Here,” Ragnar said, pulling out two powered-air purifying respirator masks from his backpack and handing one to Jason. “You see the archeologists who found this thing?”

  Jason had seen the pictures. Corpses swollen and blistered. Healthy adults whose bodies had been ravaged by an unknown virus in a matter of days. Neither Jason nor Ragnar wanted to risk catching whatever it was that plagued the cave, so they both donned the masks, as well as thick neoprene gloves.

  Venturing into the chamber, the two tread carefully, Ragnar holding a GoPro action camera to capture everything they discovered. As they neared the wreck site, the sound of distant rushing water filled the space.

  “Watch your step,” Ragnar said, shining his beam toward a sheer drop-off near what remained of the ship’s bow.

  Nearing the edge, Jason peered over at a raging torrent of water thirty feet down. The clear glacial melt gushed out from one side and disappeared beneath the ice on the other.

  Ragnar motioned toward a body half covered by a fallen rock near the edg
e of a blast crater. The man’s body was singed and battered to pieces, but his mask only covered half his face, allowing them to see a gray beard and piercing blue eyes.

  “Looks like Dr. Olafsson,” Jason said, recognizing him from the team member photographs. “He suffered gunshot wounds to the back and shoulder.” Taking another minute to examine the wreckage and bodies, and careful not to touch what remained of the frozen Viking corpse, Jason discovered a hardcase lodged under a pile of dirt and rocks. “What do we have here?” Brushing the grit aside, he grabbed the handle and heaved the case out into the open.

  Ragnar hovered over him as he reached for the clasps. “Careful. We don’t know what’s in this thing.”

  Clicking the lid free, Jason pried it open and shined his light, revealing three glass vials of deep-red liquid nestled in foam cutouts. The moment Jason regarded the samples, he lurched back.

  “Holy crap,” Ragnar said.

  Focusing toward the pile of rocks beside him, Jason saw one of the attackers mostly buried where he’d found the case, a pistol resting on the ground near his hand.

  Ragnar glanced at his watch. “We should head back. We’ve done what we came here to do. Now we can have this back entrance blocked off in time for the main shaft to—”

  “Wait,” Jason said, snapping his hand into the air. “Did you hear that?”

  Both men went quiet, listening intently, but there were no sounds to be heard other than the distant flowing water.

  Just as Ragnar was about to ask what Jason had heard, footsteps reverberated from down the cave.

  “Who’s there?” Ragnar snapped, aiming his light toward the opening. The guide’s face hardened behind his mask, and he turned to Jason. “You . . . you liar. You led someone right to us!”

  “Easy,” Jason whispered, raising his hands. “I have no idea who—”

  “You’re a bloody liar!” Ragnar hissed, pouncing toward Jason.

  The strong Icelander managed to wrap an arm around Jason before the covert operative spun and redirected his momentum to throw his attacker to the ground.

  “Would you calm down?” Jason said. “I have no idea who these guys are.” Jason listened intently, focusing back on the way they’d entered.

  The footsteps stopped. Whoever they were, they’d clearly heard their words and little scuffle. When Jason turned back to Ragnar, the guide had swiped the fallen pistol from the ground and had it aimed at the American’s chest.

  “No one else knows we’re here,” Ragnar spat. “This is all a ploy to get the virus into your hands. Like the one that killed my countrymen.” He motioned toward Dr. Olafsson and the other scientists who’d been betrayed. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

  “Ragnar, you have to trust me,” Jason said, keeping his hands raised.

  Louder footsteps and hushed, rough words echoed down the cave, causing Ragnar to jolt sideways and aim toward the entrance.

  Before Jason could say another word or attempt to disarm the man, a baseball-sized object appeared from the darkness, arcing through the air and landing on the ground beside Ragnar. Jason’s eyes sprang wide when he realized it was a grenade.

  FIVE

  Alejandra flipped forward in a blur, barely catching herself at the bow before flying out of the RHIB. With no one manning the helm, and with the port pontoon deflated, the craft turned sharply. Alejandra held on tight as the boat struck the river’s edge, flew over the beach, and slid over an embankment, the fiberglass hull scraping against the rocks and jostling violently.

  With the cold air whipping against her face, she gasped when she saw a massive rock jutting up straight ahead. The craft smacked against the rock, jerking sideways and nearly tossing Alejandra. The RHIB went into a spin, rotating twice before sliding down and splashing into the lower portion of the winding river.

  Alejandra took a moment to catch her breath as the chaos subsided. She looked over her body, making sure she was still intact and wondering how in the hell she’d managed to escape the small army without being riddled with bullets.

  Her boat hadn’t been so lucky. Both pontoons deflated rapidly as she floated down the river. Forced to jump for it, she grabbed her pistol and satellite phone, waited for the boat to smack against the shore, then leapt onto the beach. Turning around as she landed, she couldn’t see the lake over the tall bank, let alone her enemies on the faraway shore.

  Wait until Jase hears about this, she thought as she briefly relived the ordeal. Might even top his escape back in Scotland.

  She didn’t intentionally get into a game of “top this top that” with the crazy American. They’d both sort of stumbled into it, each having a knack for getting into situations that were far over their heads.

  That is, if I get to tell Jase about it.

  She reminded herself what Jason was up against—the handful of men that had no doubt already reached and attacked them within the cave.

  With the clock ticking on Jason’s life, with whoever the hell they were after kicking their butts, and with enemies of her own no doubt closing in, Alejandra took off along the opposite side of the valley. Choosing her route carefully, she quickly summited the hill, then dropped down and searched for her attackers.

  She could hear the soft groaning of an engine in the distance, and she knew they were coming after her. Taking a moment to survey her surroundings, she locked onto a road roughly two miles to the south. A narrow bridge traversed the Morsa River, and it wound a mile west before swerving back toward the coast. Ahead of her was a narrow basin followed by a steady ridge, and to the right were steep cliffs and the lower portions of Vatnajökull.

  Knowing the guys after her would no doubt use the road to cross the river and likely discover the raft, she did the seemingly foolish thing and headed for the cliffs. She broke into a steady jog, weaving through the rough landscape. With no climbing gear or ropes, she was forced to free-solo portions of the sleek, ice-coated rocks before switchbacking her way to the apex. An avid rock climber since childhood, Alejandra had little trouble with the crags, though the ice threw her off at times, and she was shivering by the time she was through.

  I thought we were going to work primarily in the Caribbean, she thought, thinking back to when Jason had recruited her. Guess there’s always a catch with every job.

  Reaching the top of the cliff, she cupped her hands over her mouth and exhaled to try and warm them up before sliding a pair of gloves back over the exposed flesh. Moments after she reached the top, the sounds of the approaching vehicle grew louder. Turning back and squinting down the valley, she watched as one of the off-road SUVs rumbled up from the dirt road, just as she’d expected. Keeping low, she grabbed her binos and zoomed in for another look at their unknown adversaries. A group of men searched the surrounding area before climbing back into the vehicle and motoring farther west.

  Seeing that her phone had signal and that she’d missed two calls from Scott, she called their leader.

  “Trying to give me a heart attack?” Scott said.

  “I slipped. The edge of the mountain was even less stable than it looked.”

  “What’s your status?”

  “In one piece.” She went on to give a brief summary of what had happened.

  “You managed to get away unscathed?”

  “I’m fine, but two locals are dead. And an armed group was sent up to introduce themselves to Jason and his guide.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Half an hour, tops.”

  Scott said, “I’ve got your pos from the tracker in your phone. Head north. We’ll meet you on the glacier.”

  “What about the men who attacked us?” she said, focusing back on the SUV as it drove toward the road.

  “I have local authorities inbound. But right now, we need to get to Jason. If any samples of this unknown virus end up in the wrong hands . . .”

  “I underst
and, Scott. We’ll get to him.”

  SIX

  The moment Jason focused on the incoming grenade, he lurched sideways and hurled his body through the air. Slamming into Ragnar, Jason tackled the muscular guide to the ground just as he pulled the trigger, firing a round toward the cave opening. The two crashed and rolled behind a jutting rock just as the grenade exploded, the deafening boom shaking the still chamber.

  Jason expected the exposed portions of his body to be riddled to shreds with shrapnel, but instead of jagged metal, a wave of blaring light burst from the grenade, illuminating the entire cave with a powerful, instantaneous flash. A reflection of the flashbang blazed Jason’s eyes, blurring his vision as he rolled to a stop alongside Ragnar.

  With a rapid series of blinks, Jason tried his best to clear the clusters of bright, dancing stars from his vision. He could barely grab his headlamp from the ground and click off the beam, trying his best to keep them hidden from whoever’d thrown the disorienting explosive.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Ragnar grunted. Unable to find his fallen weapon, he grabbed his climbing axe. “Who the hell are—”

  “Like I said,” Jason whispered, pinning the guy’s axe hand to the ice, “I have no clue who these guys are. But one thing’s certain . . . If we fight each other, we’re dead.”

  A ray of light shone into the chamber, and the two pressed down flat, hidden behind the rock near the remnants of the ship. Focusing on the opening, they spotted four men funneling into the space with submachine guns at the ready.

  Jason grabbed his Glock, his mind working in overdrive and formulating a quick plan. “I’ll be right back,” he said, patting Ragnar on the shoulder.