Turbulent Wake (Jason Wake Book 4)

by Matthew Rief

  Instead of heading for the deep, steaming water, Jason went for the rocks fringing the shallows. He felt the smooth stones with the back of his hand. They were warm but not scalding. Shifting around, he carefully set Ragnar onto the blanket of rocks, then went to work removing the man’s soaked clothes. Stripping the guy down to his undergarments, Jason used the warm stones to raise his body temperature back up out of the danger zone.

  After ten minutes of thawing, Ragnar opened his eyes, his pulse and breathing soon normalizing following the harrowing brush with death.

  What glimmer of relief that had come with Ragnar’s recovery quickly faded as Jason squinted across the whitewashed landscape surrounding them. They were still in the middle of nowhere, and fresh in Jason’s mind was the disturbing assurance that their new enemies were making off with samples of a deadly virus.

  NINE

  Haan and the remaining members of his team weaved out of the narrow cave, moving as swiftly as the terrain would allow. It wasn’t long before the experienced, athletic men reached the opening into the passageway. They were greeted by the snowstorm, which had substantially grown in severity since they’d pressed underground.

  “You two head back up to the others at the snowmobiles,” Haan said to the hired guns. “Dr. Chang-Nam and I will deliver the samples. We’ll split up and meet back at the hideout this evening.”

  The two men climbed up the glacier while Haan and the Korean scientist trekked to the bottom of the cliff and rushed down the valley. Twenty minutes later, after fighting through the thick white sheets covering them, they made it to the parked SUVs.

  The middle-aged leader stepped toward them, wanting to be just out of earshot of the others. “You have it?” he said, his voice hard and stoic.

  Haan motioned toward the bag strapped over his shoulders. “Three clean samples, General.”

  “And the Icelandic guide? The American?”

  “They fell into a river under the glacier. Both good as dead by now. No doubt about it.”

  The General stared at the two men, unflinching. “The only way there is no doubt about it is if you see corpses.” He clenched his jaw. “Have the hired guns up on the glacier look for them.”

  “But there are local officials on the lookout. They might—”

  “If they die, they die. It’s nothing to us.” He glanced over his shoulder at the armed men standing by the vehicles. “Just more that we won’t have to pay if they get killed.”

  The General had been very careful with his dealings. None of their hired help knew his real name, nor the names of the associates he worked with. Discretion was key. That way, if any of the mercenaries were captured, they’d have no info to give—nothing that could put them or their ultimate plan in the spotlight.

  Haan made the call to the gunman up on the glacier, then the General motioned toward the vehicles.

  “We need to move. Our window is short and closing by the second. We must get off this island and take the samples to the processing facility.”

  The three headed for the nearest vehicle. After stowing the bag with the samples, they climbed in and drove up along the ridge, then down the mountainside. Members of their team had been listening in to local police chatter and knew that many of the roads would be flooded with authorities and roadblocks. But they’d planned for such a response.

  Once back on the road, they cut northeast, heading in the opposite direction of the nation’s capital city of Reykjavík. Before reaching Route 1, the main road in Iceland that hugged the coast and circled the entire nation, they pulled into an abandoned farm, then stopped in an old, rusted garage. The group quickly changed into standard tourist attire, then stepped toward rental cars with no off-road capabilities.

  The General and Dr. Jong headed for a gray sedan.

  “The rest of you go in the van,” the General said, motioning toward the three hired guns and Haan. “It will be better this way. To split up. We’ll meet up at the safe house, then our flight leaves from Höfn in less than an hour.” He eyed the mercenaries. “You will all be paid the rest of your dues once we’re airborne.”

  The General didn’t wait for an answer. He climbed into the passenger seat, and Dr. Jong started the engine and drove out of the compound. The others climbed into the van, with Haan plopping down in the driver’s seat.

  “Your boss sure as hell covers all his bases,” one of the men said to Haan.

  “You have no idea,” he replied, gunning it out of the garage and cruising down the dirt road.

  While both vehicles turned left out of the property, winding down to Route 1, they broke apart half an hour later. The gray sedan had turned left down a side road, and Haan turned right, cruising toward the coast down a bumpy road.

  “We’re taking the long way to the safe house?” Tank said.

  “Better than risking getting stopped,” Haan replied.

  “Nobody’s gonna stop a van. They—”

  The man was silenced by Dr. Jong’s voice crackling through the radio. “You’ve got a roadblock set up on the main road just before the airport. We’re using the northern side street.”

  Haan pulled out a map of the southern part of the island, briefly looked it over, then replied. “We’ll stick with the coastal route.”

  Gaining two hundred feet in altitude before swerving along the top of an oceanfront cliff, they passed by signs warning of the lack of guardrails and unstable roads.

  “We need a four-by-four,” Tank said.

  Haan tightened his grip on the wheel. “We’ll make it.”

  The road narrowed as it wound along the cliff, the Atlantic crashing against a rocky shore below.

  As the road cut closer to the edge, twisting toward a small town in the distance, Haan said, “What’s the status with your men? See if they’ve found the bodies of the American and the guide.”

  Tank did as instructed, hailing the other half of their team.

  “Got nothing,” he said after trying multiple times. “Maybe they got caught. Signal’s crap here, though, so who knows.”

  “Fewer people to take a cut,” a man joked from the back seat. He leaned forward, peering at Haan. “That mean we get paid more?”

  Haan said, “I’m sure my boss would be happy to compensate you all fairly. Why don’t you do the math? The sum split three ways versus seven ways.”

  “On it,” the man at his back said, sliding out a smartphone and opening the calculator app.

  Haan handed the map to Tank. “Check over the routes. Make sure I’m going the right way. We should be able to wind down four miles due northeast to the safe house.”

  As the man focused on the map, and the guy behind Haan blared out how much he was going to make, Haan eased off the brake and pressed slightly on the gas. As they approached the end of a turn, he curled forward, reached under the steering column, and clicked a custom mechanism that locked the gas pedal in place. Shoving his door open, Haan dove out of the van just as its motor roared and its tires spat loose rocks, the vehicle accelerating rapidly toward the cliff’s edge.

  Haan landed hard, pounding against the road and rolling to slow himself before turning and gazing toward the runaway van. It happened in a blink. The moment he gazed toward the turn, he watched as the van flew off the rocks and roared over the edge, disappearing into the early-morning fog. The van smashed against the edge of the cliff, crunching and rolling as it picked up speed toward the bottom. Spinning and swiftly falling the rest of the two hundred feet, the battered vehicle crashed into the water.

  The raging surf splashed and engulfed the van, swallowing it whole. Haan sauntered over and watched from the edge, staring down as the hired guns were dealt with in one cruel act, killed nearly instantaneously from the violent fall. A smile came across his face as he thought of them planning for a greater cut in the deal and how they’d mentioned that the General covers all his b
ases.

  Haan brushed the dirt off his clothes. “Like I said. You fools have no idea.”

  Hearing a car approach, Haan turned around as the sedan motored into view and braked to a stop in front of him. Without a word, he climbed into the back seat, and Dr. Jong drove them down the steady side of the cliff, heading for the remote Hornafjörður Airport to catch their private flight.

  TEN

  Jason lay on the hot stones and stayed put for five minutes, intermittently checking on Ragnar to make sure the guide was all right.

  When the local had recovered enough to speak, Jason said, “You got shot, swept away by a freezing underground river, then trekked over a mountain. You’re one tough Norseman.”

  The man gave his best attempt at a smile as a cloud of snow howling past them broke up beyond the nearby ridge.

  “Look who’s talking.”

  Jason patted the specialty clothes designed by his team. “Like I said . . . This thing’s a lifesaver.”

  He knew his attire was advanced and designed for fending off the cold, but even he was impressed by just how effective it was. He had no doubt that if he’d been wearing normal cold-weather gear like Ragnar, he’d have never made it.

  Ragnar nodded shakily. “Gonna have to get some of those.”

  When the Icelander had warmed enough to regain his cognitive functions and his body was able to support his weight, Jason helped him sit up. They both fought the urge to remain beside the hot spring longer, knowing they needed to get moving. Whoever had attacked them in the cave had no doubt been there to claim the virus samples. Jason was unwilling to imagine what would happen if such a virus were to run rampant on a large population.

  Keeping his breathing steady, Jason knelt beside Ragnar and helped the Icelander to his feet. “That river seemed to carry us northwest under the glacier,” he said. “You have any idea where we are?”

  Ragnar shielded his face from a powerful drift, then looked around. “Looks like we’re about three kilometers west from the upper reaches of Skaftafell.” He focused down the mountain. “There’s a remote guest house two and a half kilometers that way. There most likely won’t be anyone there, but there should be supplies and perhaps a radio, at the least.”

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  After taking another five minutes to warm up and prepare, the two pushed down the mountain, taking their time not to overexert their worn bodies, and protecting themselves from the pelting storm. Following the flowing hot spring down the steady slope, they eventually spotted a simple cabin nestled against the mountainside.

  Ragnar explained that the spot was only accessible by foot or snowmobile, like much of the surrounding area, and that the nearest road was another five miles down. When they neared the cabin coming into view through the haze, they were welcomed by the sight of smoke puffing out from a chimney and a pair of snowmobiles parked along the leeward side of the structure.

  Ragnar smiled when he saw the logo of his tour guide company, Xplore Iceland, painted onto the side of the vehicles. He knew the two men inside and nearly collapsed by the fireplace when they entered.

  “Holy shit, Ragnar,” a fellow guide said. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  The two locals dished up bowls of warm, traditional, Icelandic lamb stew. The first bite convinced Jason that he’d never tasted anything more satisfying in his life. Tender slices of meat, a soft medley of vegetables, and a blend of garlic, oregano, and thyme warmed him to the core. He hadn’t finished the first bowl before his mind revitalized enough to focus on the bigger task at hand. With survival taken care of, it was time to get back to the mission.

  Following a quick inquiry on Jason’s part, one of the guides handed him a radio, and Jason got in touch with Scott. The signal was spotty, thanks to the storm, but words came through in patches.

  “Sure is good to hear your voice, kid,” Scott said after Ragnar gave him their position. “Please tell me you’re still in one piece.”

  “Yes, but slightly dazed and frozen from plunging down a subglacial waterslide.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later. Where’s Alejandra?”

  “She ran into trouble of her own.”

  After giving a quick rundown of what had happened, Jason said, “They got the samples, Scottie. No doubt about it. Whoever these people are, they have the virus, and they’re making off with it.”

  Scott sighed. “We’ve got a search going on, but the fact that this whole thing was covert is making things difficult. We’re on our way to your position, then we can re-evaluate.”

  “There’s only one way to ensure that this virus doesn’t get off the island,” Jason said.

  “Closing off the nation will be a tough sell. Let’s hope we can get to them soon and that it doesn’t come to that.”

  Jason knew how much Iceland’s economy relied on tourism and foreign trade for its goods, but if they couldn’t track down the ones who’d attacked them and regain all three of the samples, then locking down the country would prove the only rational course to take. It was either that or put the fate of humanity in jeopardy.

  They ended the call, and Jason huddled up by the fire, downing another bowl of stew along with a mug of coffee. The two members of Ragnar’s team were lifesavers, and Jason was overtaken by their generosity.

  Half an hour after ending the chat with Scott, Jason heard the sounds of droning engines between the gusts of howling winds. Peeking out a window, he focused on a pair of snowmobiles emerging from the haze. It didn’t take a second glance for Jason to realize that it wasn’t Scott motoring up to whisk them out of there.

  Jason withdrew his Glock and glanced at the three Icelanders. “We’re about to have some unwelcome company.”

  ELEVEN

  “You three go,” Jason said, shifting his gaze away from the incoming snowmobiles and to the locals. “Get Ragnar to a hospital.”

  “You’re coming with us,” Ragnar said, wincing as he rose to his feet.

  Jason shook his head. “No. I’ll take the other vehicle and lead them in the opposite direction. Whoever these guys are, they’re after me. You all go, now! You’re running out of time.”

  Ragnar pulled open a closet and grabbed an ice axe tied to a coil of rope. “Remember what I told you earlier,” he said, handing it to Jason.

  Jason nodded and clipped the axe and rope to his waist, then the men grabbed their packs and rushed for the door.

  Ragnar stopped in the open doorway, flurries of snow gusting around him. “Thank you, Jason Wake. I—”

  “I’ll see you again soon, Ragnar. Go and get that taken care of.”

  The man nodded and staggered toward the nearest snowmobile, then climbed onto the vehicle behind the two other guides. The driver fired up the engine and accelerated down the snow, keeping out of sight of the approaching attackers.

  Climbing onto the second snowmobile, Jason powered it on and tore across the snow, the track biting into the fresh powder and spitting it back behind him as he rapidly reached eighty miles per hour.

  Just as he’d hoped, the approaching adversaries followed him instead of the others as he cut north along the ridge. Banking around a rocky point jutting up from the snow, Jason roared into a long open straightaway with a steep cliff on the left side and rolling ice-covered hills to his right. Stealing a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw his enemies through the calming storm. It was passing, allowing him to view most of the landscape in front of him instead of only a few feet.

  Nature’s mood change was bittersweet, as it allowed Jason to see where he was going but also gave his pursuers a visual. Less than a minute into the chase, the men at Jason’s back opened fire. They were a hundred yards off and firing at a moving target, but they managed to pelt the snow beside him and land a round into the r
ear end of the machine.

  Jason had no choice but to try and outmaneuver them, cutting as sharp of a right turn as his speed would allow and vanishing between a gap in the rolling hills. He swerved around the backside just as his attackers appeared, then weaved around the next hump. This time, instead of continuing away from his attackers, he completed a full turn, traversing the base of the hill and roaring at his enemies head-on for a split second. It was enough.

  Prepared for the momentary standoff, Jason had his pistol raised, the sights locked on the trailing snowmobile. He opened fire, sending two bullets toward the men and hitting the driver with a round. The man jerked at the sudden blow, whipped around, and tumbled along the side of the vehicle. With his grip still on the wheel, he caused the snowmobile to cut too sharp, and it plowed hood first into a snowbank, flipping, crashing to pieces, and hurling the rear guy into the snow.

  The passenger on the lead vehicle turned back and opened fire at Jason, forcing him to stow his pistol back in the base of his waistband, accelerate, and turn out of view around the hill once more. With two more armed men in pursuit and no longer having the better position, Jason knew he needed to pull off one hell of a finishing move if he was going to come out of the encounter on top.

  With the snowmobile moments away from breaching the corner and getting a clear shot at him, Jason did the unthinkable by letting off the gas and turning sharply up the hill. Instead of flying away from them, he shifted around and rushed right beside them, putting the nose of his vehicle on a direct course for the side of his pursuers. Before they could open fire on him again, Jason stepped over the windshield and launched his body through the air.