ICE GENESIS: Book 2 in the ICE Trilogy

by Kevin Tinto

  He used speed dial, preprogrammed with several numbers, his assistant Karen’s being on the top of the list. Once the call connected, he switched to speaker phone and ran the volume to maximum.

  “Al Paulson, don’t tell me you’re in trouble, too.”

  Paulson’s eyes opened wide. “I don’t like the sound of ‘too’? What the hell’s happening?”

  “Eight hours ago, I got a call from Jack.”

  Paulson read her hesitation right away. “That’s why I’m calling you on the burner phone. We might all have trouble. What’s going on with Jack?”

  “Where are you calling me from? There’s all kinds of background noise?”

  “I’m in Grants, New Mexico. Actually flying over the city in a holding pattern, so I have cell service.”

  “Well,” she said, “I’ve left at least four messages on your satellite phone and tried Mac Ridley as well.

  “I’ve got news,” he said. “That’s why I’m calling. If Jack’s in trouble, I want to hear that first.”

  “Jack is in trouble. His Ararat adventure has gone sideways. He said to tell you: ‘American soldiers had already been there’, and quote, ‘explored it from top to bottom’. Both of his satellite phones are inoperative. Like his satellite service was intentionally disabled. He’s concerned that Wheeler may be involved, as bizarre as that sounds, given everything else on that idiot’s plate. Oh—and, the Turkish military got involved. You might know more about that than me. He can’t get out of Turkey via Istanbul. He said he was nearly across the border out of Turkey, when I spoke with him.”

  “What border?”

  “With Iran. He said to tell you not to freak out, because he’s got the Kurdish warlord guide and his sons for company. He assured me he was safe with the Kurds.

  “True enough,” Paulson said. “Nobody messes with those Kurdish rebels. Does he have a plan to get out?”

  “He’s hoping that his suspicions about Wheeler setting him up are paranoia, and you can arrange some kind of military extraction—perhaps near the Iraq border. Otherwise, he says there is an abandoned military airfield about twenty kilometers east of the border. Jack was headed in the direction of that airfield when we spoke.” Karen took a breath. “Little reminder here, Al. Whatever disaster Jack is embroiled in—you’re the one who convinced him to go. Not to mention, he’s risked his life numerous times to save yours…. I’d suggest you find out if Wheeler just signed his own death warrant, because I will personally cut his throat if he’s behind this….”

  “Although my news is a mystery, it likely concerns Wheeler, so we might all be on the same page.” Paulson explained what he’d found at the abandoned airfield.

  Karen fell silent for a long moment. “I always told you not to run rough-shod over Wheeler. I told you he had screws loose. But still…it’s senseless to torture and kill Stan Fischer.”

  “You’re probably right,” Paulson said. “I didn’t cut him too much slack—still, I did everything I could to make this work. Didn’t matter. Wheeler couldn’t process it. His ego couldn’t take the slap down. Now, Fischer? He was the consummate boot-licker. I can’t see Wheeler ordering someone to torture him and take video just for after dinner entertainment. There’s something here that doesn’t add up. Big time.”

  Paulson drew a breath. “First order of business—don’t leave the executive suite of Paulson Global for any reason. Call a meeting with security. Tell them you might be getting visitors, although I doubt federal Agents would show up at the door. Have security disable all the elevators leading to the executive floor. Move the staff on down to where they can access working elevators. Make security taste any food they bring in for you first.”

  “Al!”

  “Just kidding…. Here’s what I really need, okay?”

  He heard her signature notepad paper rustle. “Ready.”

  “I’m going to give you a list of ranking senators and congressman. You contact them with one simple code word. That word is ‘Titanic.’ But…do not call them unless you hear from me, or, you don’t hear from me. And do not say any more. If you have to do it, they’ll understand that Wheeler’s gone rogue. That right there is enough to send Wheeler down the river. Is the Citation 10 back in Westchester?”

  “Yep. All gassed up, ready for the turn-around to pick up Jack. But there’s no way you can go get him in Iran….”

  “You said it. I got Jack into this—it’s my job to get him out. You said Jack should be calling you soon. I’ll need the GPS coordinates for this Iranian airfield. Jack’ll have checked out every inch of the field and runway. Make sure you write down every detail he tells you.”

  “Is that it?”

  “When you hear from Jack, call me on the burner. I want to get an update on his personal situation, the exact location of this airport and its runway’s status. That’s a start.”

  Paulson clicked the phone off and dropped it back into the gear bag. He grabbed the stick and switched off the autopilot. He banked the T-38 until he’d picked up the heading for Holloman Air Force Base. He had to refuel the T-38 first; then, as they used to say back in his naval-aviator days, he’d ‘put the spurs to it.’ He might also be on the take-down list, but that didn’t matter. He fully intended get Jack out of Iran.

  Chapter 51

  Appanoose gathered the Settlement together as the sound of helicopters came closer. He spoke in multiple languages to the Ancients, ordering them to battle. Two of Leah’s fierce femmes dashed under the mesa overhang and came out carrying spears and more military knives stolen from perimeter security

  Apparently, they took a few more than they owned up to, Leah thought.

  The satellite phone that had been returned to her still hung from the lanyard. She flipped the lanyard over her head and tucked the satellite phone inside the flight suit. Garrett stood next to Appanoose, armed with one of the hunting spears.

  “Garrett!” she shouted. He trotted over to where she stood. “We can’t stay here. They realize that, right? I’m thinking if we can get the Ancients to Silver City, they won’t be able to round us up like cattle.”

  “Not gonna work, Leah.” He nodded in the direction of the shaman.

  “What?” Leah looked to Appanoose and saw he was leading the Ancients in the direction of the inbound helicopters, not away.

  “No! The soldiers inbound will murder everyone in cold blood, if the Ancients resist. You know that. Their only hope’s to run toward civilization.”

  Garrett shook his head. “The shaman made his decision.” He drew a breath. “I’m going with them.” Garrett pointed out the deer trail leading to the top of the mesa. “Get to the quad and get out of here. Use the satellite phone, call Jack, Al—everyone. Tell them what’s happening.”

  “No! I won’t leave them,” she said, finding inner strength. “They’re depending on me. Their fate’s mine as well. I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I ran.”

  She expected Garrett to argue, to try to hammer some sense into her stubborn head. There were good reasons she should save herself—no great reasons, granted—but Garrett simply said, “Breɪv,” honoring Leah by using one of the most respected terms in his native language:

  Navajo warrior.

  Chapter 52

  Much as she’d experienced during the deer hunt, the Ancients disappeared ahead of Garrett and her, ghosting into the darkness without a sound. Garrett ran abreast of Leah, his hand pointing out the direction. They were headed toward the meadow where Appanoose had refused to kill the doe and her bucks. That made sense only if the Ancients were looking for a face-to-face fight, as the clearing was the sole place for miles around that could accommodate more than a couple of helicopters landing at the same time.

  She’d told Gordo about the Ancients’ exceptional hearing. He had to know they’d hear the helicopters earlier than any human, giving them time to prepare for the incom
ing troops. Would Gordo have warned the Special Operators? She didn’t think so. But even if he had tipped off someone in Washington, they likely would have ignored his advice.

  It was a struggle to keep up with Garrett now, the sweat-lodge experience still sapping her endurance. Her legs began to cramp first. Then her lungs began to burn.

  I’m exhausted already.

  “Go on ahead,” she called to Garrett.

  No response. Just as Leah opened her mouth to shout once again, a hand covered her lips and nose, then yanked her off the deer trail, dragging her backward for at least ten meters before standing her up again, never freeing her mouth. Leah froze, not sure if they next thing she’d experience would be either a shot to the back of the head or a honed blade slicing through her windpipe and severing her spine.

  A second turned her around in place, and suddenly she was looking up at Appanoose. He gave her one nod; she nodded back. He uncovered her mouth and whispered in her ear. A single word: “Shił!”

  Leah nodded her understanding. Stay with him. She was terrified, but the fact that she could stay by his side gave her the courage she needed to take a deep breath and scan the forest for any sign of the other Ancients or Garrett. She couldn’t see more than a handful of meters in any direction, the foliage and cover being so thick. When she turned back to Appanoose, she saw K’aalógii crouching silently next to him. Leah reached out and they clasped hands.

  It didn’t take long for Leah to figure out the Ancient strategy. They were waiting alongside the main trail leading to the Settlement. It was the most direct route from the meadow where the helicopters would most likely land en masse. Another fatal underestimation of the Ancients and their guerrilla-fighting skills—especially in their own backyard.

  Before she could conclude any more, Appanoose was signing in the darkness with his arms and hands, followed by his customary head snap to the Ancients he was signaling. The same ones Leah hadn’t seen, though she now realized they stood only meters away.

  She hadn’t heard anything new, but Appanoose and the Ancients clearly had. She felt rather than heard a slight movement of air as the Ancients sped past her in order to intercept the soldiers on the trail. Moments later, she heard the sound of boots kicking rocks, breaking small branches, even muffled chatter moving toward her from the meadow.

  After the lethal silence of the Ancients, these Special Operators sounded like a John Philip Souza brass-band number in a Fourth of July parade.

  Which raised another question. What in the hell had happened to the perimeter security? It made sense they wouldn’t be included on any tactical mission. They didn’t have anywhere near the experience of a Special Operations team. Her guess was, someone had told them to stand down, ahead of this mission. That told her that the Special Operations would have whatever leeway necessary to accomplish the mission, without anyone watching over them.

  A license to kill, she thought. James Bond would never agree to such carnage.

  Unfortunately, for the Special Operators, the slaughter they might be expected to implement, wouldn’t take place.

  There’d be a massacre all right, Leah thought. Only not the one she’d feared. These soldiers had been sent on a suicide mission, and they didn’t even know it. How many of them were married, had children at home? What would be their last thoughts as a knife blade slit their throat? Their families—and how they’d never see them again?

  Waiting for the ambush felt a thousand times more painful than anticipating Appanoose and his warriors piercing the hearts of the doe and her bucks. She crouched with K’aalógii, unable to cover her ears with her hands as she’d done during the deer hunt because she was holding hands with the young girl. The imminent screaming and death rattles…she’d hear them all in unbearable detail.

  Leah heard boots scraping trail, the occasional squeak of the backpacks.

  She felt the shaman’s hand on her back, gently at first, then not. It pressed her down until she lay flat on the forest floor with K’aalógii still crouching and holding Leah’s hand for support. The child didn’t seem afraid in the least. A reminder of how horrible her early life had been, living the cliff-dweller’s existence.

  If Appanoose pressed her down any harder, she feared he might break a rib. It felt like that much pressure.

  The approaching soldiers couldn’t be more than a few meters down the trail from their position now. She clenched her jaw and waited for the first casualties to be cut down from behind at the end of the column.

  Instead, to her shock and amazement, the sound of boots continued down the trail, backpack frames issuing an occasional squeak, even a chuckle or two coming from the commandos, as they compared this forced march in the middle of the night to their workouts during basic training.

  She stayed in the pressed-down position for at least another five minutes, even though soldiers were out of human earshot seconds after passing the Ancients. Without warning, Leah was gently lifted to her feet, and released.

  Appanoose leaned over and whispered into her ear. “Naabaahii, leɪzi.”

  Leah nodded as relief swept over her in waves. Appanoose had said, ‘Lazy warriors,’ his less-than-glowing review of the spec ops unit had shuffled right past the lethal ambush. He could have ordered them killed, the deed done in a matter of seconds, but he had not.

  Leah felt a swell of pride and appreciation for the shaman and his noble warriors.

  He pointed down the trail toward the meadow and said, “Chidí naat’a’í.”

  Oh, so he wasn’t allowing the soldiers to pass by out of the goodness of his heart; he was two steps ahead. If the Black Hawk crews and security got wind that soldiers had been ambushed, they’d likely take off immediately. Or at the very least, set up a perimeter and shoot at anything and everything coming toward the meadow before flying off at the last second.

  Leah estimated it was five or six more kilometers to the meadow. At best they had thirty minutes before the Special Operations team sneaked into the Settlement and figured out it had been deserted.

  The Ancients could run that distance in a matter of a few minutes, but not Garrett or her. She’d have to suck it up and run as fast as she could, for as long as she could, hoping to get to the meadow before Appanoose stuck his knife against one of the pilot’s throats and told him to fly to Antarctica. The chances the pilot spoke Navajo, Lakota, Apache, or Pueblo were slim to none; so no chance a pilot could convince Appanoose that a Black Hawk couldn’t make it anywhere near Antarctica.

  No, Leah corrected herself. Appanoose must already know the helicopters can’t take them directly to Antarctica.

  The shaman would also know that the pilots wouldn’t speak his languages.

  He must have another plan in mind.

  Appanoose grabbed her wrists, spun around, and crouched.

  Oh, dear. Looks like I’m gonna get the piggy-back ride of my life.

  Leah put her arms around his neck, then lifted one leg up at a time into the shaman’s grasp. He stood and sprinted down the trail at a speed Leah had only exceeded on the quad. Instinctively, she shut her eyes each time Appanoose jumped over a log or creek or short-cut a switchback to descend straight down the an impossibly steep slope, picking up the path again before Leah dared peek.

  When he leapt across a ravine more than ten meters deep, Leah’s stomach pushed right up into her throat as they went airborne, then fell almost two stories before he landed on his feet and never missed a step while picking up speed on the upslope.

  They’d already gone at least a kilometer before Leah thought about Garrett. Was he getting the same treatment, or being forced to chase after the Ancient’s gazelle-like pace, doing the best he could?

  It was only after Appanoose stopped and dropped Leah to the forest floor that she found out. One of the warriors came alongside and dropped Garrett’s lanky frame right beside her.

  Appanoo
se grabbed Leah’s hand and led her through the forest. She knew it was futile, but she tried to make as little noise as possible as she moved with him. When he stopped and crouched, Leah did the same.

  K’aalógii came alongside Leah and grasped her hand again.

  A crescent moon provided enough light that she could easily make out the helicopters sitting in the meadow. Far from what she’d expected, there was only one Black Hawk in the meadow. But next to it stood a second, much larger helicopter, a Ch-47 Chinook. Probably the same one that the Army had put on TAD at Holloman. It had been used when they transported the Ancients out to the Settlement, and Leah knew they shuttled both civilian and military members of the security perimeter into and out of Holloman, using the over-sized Chinook.

  The Chinook was a troop transport that featured a drop-down ramp at the back. It could carry thirty…or was it forty people? There was a complicated equation a pilot had told her, depending upon altitude and fuel, temperatures, and more.

  Whatever it was, it could accommodate all the Ancients and a crew with no problem. Strangely, no armed soldiers stood watch over the Chinook. The interior was lit, however. Leah suspected the crew were waiting inside for a radio call.

  The Black Hawk was a different story. There were five armed men positioned around the war bird. They appeared to be dressed in civilian-style clothing and none wore a helmet.

  These men looked frosty, serious, and prepared to shoot at any sound. Even from a distance, Leah felt a certain vibe coming off this Black Hawk, a night-and-day difference from the Chinook. The Chinook crew probably thought they were on a milk run. The Black Hawk crew was ready to go weapons-free at the sound of a broken twig.

  Chapter 53

  Appanoose flashed a series of hand signals. Leah saw right away that the number of signals and the complicated nature of the hand movements after pointing toward the Black Hawk meant that he considered it the more serious threat—and that the take-down would require a complex attack.