The room fell silent.
Schofield could hear Rebound's breathing. He was breathing fast, hyperventilating.
Everyone watched Schofield, waited for him to make the call.
Schofield took a deep breath, tried to evaluate the situation. The SAS?the British Special Air Service, the most dangerous special forces unit in the world?was on its way to Wilkes Ice Station right now.
And it was being led by Trevor Barnaby?the man who had taught Shane Schofield everything he knew about covert incursionary warfare. The man who in the eighteen years he had been in command of the SAS had never once failed in a mission.
On top of all that, Barnaby was also jamming Schofield's radio, stopping him from getting in contact with McMurdo. Stopping him from making contact with the only people in the world who were capable of taking out the French warship that was hovering off the coast, waiting to launch its missiles at Wilkes Ice Station.
Schofield checked his stopwatch. It read:
2:02:31
2:02:32
2:02:33
Shit, he thought.
Less than an hour until they launched.
Shit. It was all happening too fast. It was as if the whole world were closing in around him.
Schofield looked at the range finder viewscreen again, looked at the swarm of dots approaching Wilkes Ice Station.
Twenty hovercrafts, he thought. Probably two or three men in each. That meant a minimum of fifty men.
Fifty men.
And what did Schofield have?
Three good men in the station proper. Three more down in the cave. Mother down in the storeroom and Snake handcuffed to a pole on E-deck.
The situation didn't just look bad.
It looked hopeless.
Either they stayed here and fought a suicidal battle with the SAS, or they ran?made a break for McMurdo in the hovercrafts?and brought back reinforcements later.
There really was no choice at all.
Schofield looked up at the small group gathered around him.
"All right," he said. "We get out of here."
Schofield's feet clanged loudly as they landed hard on the cold metal floor of E-deck. Schofield strode quickly across the deck toward the south tunnel and Mother's storeroom.
"What's going on?" a voice called out from the other side of the deck. Snake. "Trouble, Lieutenant?"
Schofield approached the handcuffed soldier. He saw the two French scientists kneeling on the deck on either side of him. They just stared resignedly at the deck.
"You made a mistake," Schofield said to Snake. "You started killing your own men too soon. You should have waited until you were sure we had this station secured. Now we've got twenty British hovercrafts speeding toward us and no reinforcements in sight. They're going to be here in twenty-three minutes."
Snake's face remained impassive, cold.
"And you know what?" Schofield said. "You're gonna be here when they arrive." He began to walk away.
"You're going to leave me here?" Snake said in disbelief.
"Yes."
"You can't do that. You need me," Snake said.
Schofield looked at his watch as he walked.
Twenty-two minutes until the SAS arrived.
"Snake, you had your chance and you blew it. Now, you'd better pray that we break through their line and get to McMurdo. Because if we don't, this whole station?and whatever's buried down in the ice beneath it?is gonna be lost forever."
Schofield stopped by the entrance to the south tunnel and turned around. "And in the meantime, you can take your chances with Trevor Barnaby."
With that, Schofield turned away from Snake and entered the south tunnel. He immediately swung right and entered Mother's storeroom. Mother was seated on the floor by the wall again. She looked up when Schofield came in.
"Trouble?" she said.
"As always," Schofield said. "Can you move?"
"What's happening?"
"Our favorite ally just sent their best troops in to take this station."
"What do you mean?"
"The SAS are on their way and they don't sound friendly."
"How many?"
"Twenty hovercrafts."
"Shit," Mother said.
"That's what I thought. Can you move?" Schofield was already probing around behind Mother's chair, to see if he could gather together all of her fluid bags and intravenous drips.
"How long till they get here?" Mother asked.
Schofield looked quickly at his watch. "Twenty minutes."
"Twenty minutes," Mother said.
Behind her, Schofield quickly grabbed two fluid lines.
"Scarecrow...," she said.
"Just a second."
"Scarecrow."
Schofield stopped what he was doing and looked up at Mother.
"Stop," Mother said gently.
Schofield looked at her.
Mother said, "Scarecrow. Get out of here. Get out of here now. Even if we had a full squad of twelve swordsmen, we'd never be able to hold off an entire platoon of SAS commandos." Swordsman was Mother's term for a Marine, a reference to the sword of honor that every Marine wore when in full dress uniform.
"Mother..."
"Scarecrow, the SAS, they aren't regular troops like we are. They are killers, trained killers. They are trained to go into a hostile zone and kill everyone in sight. They don't take prisoners. They don't ask questions. They kill." Mother paused. "You have to evacuate the station."
"I know."
"And you can't do that with a one-legged old hag like me weighing you down. If you're gonna run that blockade, you're gonna need people who can move, people who can move fast."
"I'm not going to leave you here?"
"Scarecrow. You have to get to McMurdo. You have to get reinforcements."
"And then what?"
"And then what? And then you can come back here with a fucking battalion of swordsmen, you nuke these British sons of bitches, you rescue the girl, and you save the fucking day. That's what."
Schofield just stared at Mother. She returned his gaze, looked him squarely in the eye.
"Go," she said softly. "Go now. I'll be all right."
Schofield didn't say anything; he just continued to stare at her.
Mother shrugged nonchalantly. "I mean, hey, like I've said before, it's nothing one good kiss from a fine-looking man like you wouldn't?"
At that moment, without warning, Schofield leaned forward and kissed Mother quickly on the lips. It was only a short kiss?an innocent peck?but Mother's eyes went as wide as saucers.
Schofield stood up. Mother took a deep breath.
"Whoa, mama," she said.
"Find a place to hide and stay there," Schofield said. "I'll be back. I promise."
And then he left the room.
The hovercraft's engine roared to life.
In the driver's seat, Rebound floored the accelerator. The needle on the tachometer bounced up to 6000 rpms.
At that moment, the second Marine hovercraft came gliding across the hard-packed snow. Its engine revved loudly as it slid to a halt alongside Rebound's hovercraft.
Buck Riley's voice came over Rebound's radio. "Fifteen minutes to go, Rebound. Let's get 'em over to the main building and load 'em up."
Schofield looked at his watch as he strode quickly round the outer tunnel of B-deck.
Fifteen minutes to go.
"Fox. Can you hear me?" he said into his helmet mike as he walked. While he waited for a reply, he quickly put his hand over the microphone.
"Let's go, people!" he yelled.
The remaining residents of Wilkes?Abby and the three male scientists, Llewellyn, Harris, and Robinson?were hurrying in and out of their respective rooms.
Llewellyn and Robinson ran past Schofield. They were dressed in thick black windbreakers. They hurried off toward the central shaft of the station.
Suddenly Gant's voice came over Schofield's earpiece. "Scarecrow, this is Fox. I read you. You
're not gonna believe what's down here."
"Yeah, well, you're not gonna believe what's up here," Schofield said. "Sorry, Fox, but you're gonna have to tell me about it later. We're in big trouble up here. We've got a whole platoon of SAS commandos heading toward this station and they're gonna be here in about fourteen minutes."
"Jesus. What are you going to do?"
"We're gonna pull out. We have to. There's just too many of them. Our only chance is to get back to McMurdo and bring back the cavalry."
"What should we do down here?"
"Just stay where you are. Point your guns at that pool and shoot the first thing that pokes its head out of the water."
Schofield looked around himself as he spoke. He couldn't see Kirsty anywhere.
"Listen, Fox, I have to go," he said.
"Be careful, Scarecrow."
"You, too. Scarecrow, out."
Schofield spun instantly. "Where's the girl!" he yelled.
He received no reply.
Just then he saw Abby emerge from her room. She was hurriedly putting on a heavy blue parka.
"Abby! Where's Kirsty?" he called.
"I think she went back to her room!"
"Where is her room?"
"Down the tunnel! On the left!" Abby yelled, pointing down the tunnel behind Schofield.
Schofield ran down the outer tunnel of B-deck, looking for Kirsty.
Twelve minutes to go.
He threw open every door he came to.
First door. A bedroom. Nothing.
Second door. Locked. A three-ringed biohazard sign on it. The Biotoxin Laboratory. Kirsty wouldn't be in there.
Third door. Schofield threw it open.
And suddenly he stopped.
Schofield hadn't seen this room before. It was a walk-in freezer of some sort, the kind used for storing food. Not anymore, Schofield thought. Now this freezer room stored something else.
There were three bodies in the room.
Samurai, Mitch Healy, and Hollywood. They all lay on their backs, face-up.
After the battle with the French, Schofield had ordered that the bodies of his fallen men be taken to a freezer of some sort, where they were to be kept until they could be returned home for a proper burial. This was obviously where the bodies had been taken.
There was, however, a fourth body in the freezer room. It lay on the floor next to Hollywood's body, and it had been covered over with a brown hessian sack.
Schofield frowned.
Another body?
It couldn't have been one of the French soldiers, because they had not been moved from where they lay?
And then he suddenly Schofield remembered.
It was Bernard Olson.
Doctor Bernard Olson.
The scientist James Renshaw was said to have killed several days before Schofield and his team had arrived at Wilkes. The residents of Wilkes must have placed his body in here.
Schofield checked his watch.
Eleven minutes.
And then suddenly he remembered something that Renshaw had said to him after he had woken up inside his room, bound to the bed. When Renshaw had released Schofield he had asked him to do something odd. He had asked him?if he ever got the chance?to check Olson's body, in particular the tongue and the eyes.
Schofield didn't understand what the dead man's tongue and eyes had to do with anything. But Renshaw had insisted that they would prove his innocence.
Ten and a half minutes.
Not enough time. Got to get out of here.
But then, Renshaw had saved his life....
All right.
Schofield hurried into the freezer room and fell to his knees beside the brown hessian sack. He swept it off the body.
Bernard Olson stared up at him with cold, lifeless eyes.
He was an ugly man?fat and bald, with a pudgy, wrinkled face. His skin was bone white in color.
Schofield didn't waste any time. He checked the eyes first.
They were deeply red around the rims, inflamed. Horribly bloodshot.
Then he turned his attention to the dead man's mouth.
The mouth was shut. Schofield tried to open it, but the jaw was locked firmly in place. It wouldn't open an inch.
Schofield leaned closer and prized the dead man's lips apart so that he could examine the tongue.
The lips came apart.
"Urghhh," he winced as he saw it. He swallowed quickly, held back the nausea.
Bernie Olson had bitten his own tongue off.
For some reason, before he had died, Bernie Olson had bitten down hard with his teeth, clamping them shut. He had bitten down so hard that he had cut his own tongue in half.
Ten minutes.
That's enough, time to go.
Schofield ran for the door, and as he passed Mitch Healy's body on the way out, he grabbed the dead Marine's helmet from the floor.
Schofield emerged from the freezer room just as Kirsty came running down the outer tunnel of B-deck.
"I had to get a parka," she said apologetically. "My other one got wet?"
"Come on," Schofield said, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the tunnel.
As they turned into the tunnel that led to the central shaft, Schofield heard someone shout, "Wait for me!"
It was Renshaw. He was hurrying as fast as his little legs would carry him, racing around the curved outer tunnel toward Schofield and Kirsty. He was dressed in a heavy blue parka, and he was carrying a thick book under his arm.
"What the hell were you doing?" Schofield said.
"I had to get this," Renshaw said, indicating the book under his arm as he ran past Schofield and headed for the central well.
Schofield and Kirsty followed. "What the hell is in there that's so important?" Schofield yelled.
Renshaw called back, "My innocence!"
Outside the station, snow was flying horizontally.
It assaulted Schofield's face?bounced off his silver glasses?as he emerged from the main entrance with Kirsty and Renshaw by his side.
Eight minutes to go.
Until the SAS arrived.
The two white Marine hovercrafts were already parked outside the main entrance to the station. Book and Rebound stood beside the two big vehicles, hustling the residents of Wilkes onto Rebound's white hovercraft.
Schofield's plan was simple.
Rebound's hovercraft would be the transport. It held six people, so it would be used to carry all of the residents of Wilkes?Abby, Llewellyn, Harris, Robinson, and Kirsty? plus Rebound himself.
Book and Schofield would ride shotgun, defending the transport craft as it raced eastward and attempted to outrun the SAS hovercrafts speeding toward Wilkes Ice Station.
Book would drive the second Marine hovercraft, Schofield the French unit's orange hovercraft. James Renshaw, Schofield decided, would ride with him.
Schofield saw Rebound slam the sliding door of his hovercraft, saw Book leap up onto the skirt of his hovercraft and disappear inside the cabin. Book reemerged a second later with a large black Samsonite trunk in his hands and hurled the big black trunk across the snow toward Schofield. It landed with a loud thud.
"Pest control!" Book called.
Schofield hurried toward the trunk.
"Here," he said to Renshaw as he ran. "Put this on."
He handed Renshaw the Marine helmet that he had picked up on his way out of the freezer room. Then he quickly picked up the big Samsonite trunk and headed for the French hovercraft.
The French hovercraft sat silently in the snow outside the main entrance to the station. Unlike the two white USMC hovercrafts, it was painted a bright garish orange.
Seven minutes.
Schofield leaped up onto the skirt of the French hovercraft and yanked open the sliding door. He got Renshaw to pass the big Samsonite trunk up to him, and he threw it inside.
Schofield hurried into the cabin and made for the driver's chair. Renshaw jumped in behind him and pulled the sliding door shut.<
br />
Schofield keyed the ignition.
The engine roared to life.
The big seven-foot fan at the rear of the hovercraft began to rotate. It got faster and faster until, like the propeller on an old biplane, it suddenly snapped into overdrive and became a rapidly spinning blur.
Beneath the hovercraft's black rubber skirt, four smaller turbofans also kicked into action. The big hovercraft lifted slowly off the ground as the skirt inflated like a balloon.
Schofield brought the big orange vehicle around so that it came alongside the two white Marine hovercrafts. They were all pointing outward, away from the station.
Looking out through the reinforced windscreen of his hovercraft, Schofield could see the horizon to the southwest. It glowed a haunting orange.
Superimposed upon it were a collection of dark shadows. Small black boxes with fat rounded bases that seemed to kick up a haze of dust behind them.
The British hovercrafts.
Closing in on Wilkes Ice Station.
"All right, people," Schofield said into his helmet mike, "Let's get out of here."
The ground raced by beneath them.
The three American hovercrafts whipped across the ice plain at phenomenal speed, side by side. Book and Schofield were on the outside; Rebound's transport was in the middle.
They raced east, in the direction of McMurdo. The three hovercrafts kept to the coastline, skirting around the edge of a cliff that towered above an enormous bay-like expanse of water. From point to point, the bay was about one mile across, but to go around it by land required a trek of almost eight miles. The mountainous waves of the Southern Ocean crashed loudly against the base of the cliffs.
As his hovercraft sped across the ice plain, Schofield looked behind him. He saw the British hovercrafts approaching Wilkes Ice Station from the west and the south.
"They must have landed at one of the Australian stations," he said over his helmet intercom. Casey Station, most likely, he thought. It was the nearest one, about seven hundred miles due west of Wilkes.
"Fucking Australians," Rebound's voice said.
Five miles away, in the silent interior of a black American-made Bell Textron SR.N7-S hovercraft, Brigadier General Trevor J. Barnaby stared impassively out through the reinforced glass windshield of his hovercraft.
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