Every sense heightened, adrenaline pounding through his veins and further exacerbating the heat loss, he motioned for the other man to begin again. There was no more chance that this was a false alarm. Whatever the man had seen — and he had no doubt that the man had seen something — this patrol was now tactical instead of practice.
“Sikes just radioed in that they’ve seen something,” Batman said into the receiver. “Whoever’s taken up residence there and decided to start shooting at our aircraft isn’t so hot of a housekeeper. Still, the island’s supposed to be deserted. If they hadn’t taken a shot at our aircraft, we probably never would have known they were there.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Admiral Magruder’s voice responded. “There’s that radio report from the Inuits.”
“And who would have suspected it?” Batman mused. “Some Aleutian Islander with a radio sees something strange and decides to call in the Navy.”
“Not so strange as you might think,” Tombstone responded. His voice took on a reflective note. “I wonder if it’s the same — no, couldn’t be. He’d have to be pushing seventy years old by now.”
“Who?” Batman asked, confused by Tombstone’s apparent change of subjects.
“Probably nothing,” Tombstone answered. “But years ago, when my uncle was still involved in Special Forces projects, he spent some time out on those islands. We were in the middle of the Cold War, and maintaining the integrity of our homeland was a lot bigger issue than it is today.”
“Vice Admiral Magruder on a field trip to the Aleutians?” Batman snorted. “I’d like to see that.”
“He wasn’t always a vice admiral,” Tombstone answered dryly. “At the time, I believe he was a lieutenant commander. He told me the story a couple of times, how he went out to the islands, met some of the native tribes, studied their survival techniques. At the time, we were still in our infancy on cold weather tactics. Some bright mind in the Pentagon decided that the best way to shorten the learning curve was to study people that have centuries of experience at it. My uncle’s always been an avid skier and camper, so somebody figured he was perfect for the job.”
“How long did he spend there?”
“Three months. He visited five major islands, including one of the largest ones near the end of the chain. And that’s the odd thing — he met an old fellow there, an Inuit who was considered the leader of the tribe. At first, they weren’t too interested in talking, but my uncle managed to make friends with him somehow. It had something to do with killing a polar bear, though I never got all the details. Anyway, this old fellow decided my uncle was okay. They came to some sort of understanding about the Russians, although I gather the Inuit wasn’t nearly as concerned as my uncle was. He said he left the man some high-tech radio gear — high-tech for that era, anyway — along with a list of standard tactical frequencies. From what my uncle says, they’ve had a couple of reports from them over the years, although I doubt that there’s been anything for the last decade or so.”
“And this fella is still alive, you think? And the radio’s still working?” Batman asked incredulously.
“You got the report, didn’t you?” Tombstone pointed out. “Besides, this fellow might have handed on the responsibility to his son as well. Who knows? At this point, I’m just grateful we’ve got an asset in place.”
Batman shook his head, wondering. With the very latest ESM equipment, radars, and other highly classified sensor systems on board the carrier, in the end, the first detection had been made the way it had been for centuries: by a man on the ground.
Tombstone hung up the receiver thoughtfully. Was it possible, he wondered, that the same man would still be in place after all these years? He shook his head, deciding that it didn’t matter. Barring the outside chance that this was a deception operation in some way, he was inclined to trust the radio report. Though Batman had been doubtful, he’d agreed to send the SEAL team in to investigate. And now it looked like that had been the right move.
“Admiral,” Captain Craig said, poking his head around the corner into Tombstone’s cabin. “Problem, sir.”
“How did you hear-?” Tombstone broke off suddenly. The chief of staff hadn’t been present while Tombstone was talking to Batman. He couldn’t know about the debris the SEALs had found blowing in the wind. It must be something else. “What is it?” he asked, motioning the man to come into the room. “Dinner reservations screwed up again?”
“I wish it were that simple,” the chief of staff said. “No, Admiral, it’s an air distress signal. We’re getting seven-seven-seven-seven blasting all over the place on IFF. Evidently it’s a civilian helicopter experiencing mechanical problems about two miles from us.”
“How serious?”
“Serious enough that they don’t think that they can make it back to land. And there’s no question of them ditching in these waters, of course. They’re requesting permission to land on the ship.”
“A civilian?” Tombstone frowned. What in hell’s name would a civilian helicopter be doing in this area?
The chief of staff shook his head. “According to the transponder, it’s a commercial craft. The pilot said they were out trying to do some spotting for a fishing boat when they started having problems. They’re headed this way out of Juneau, they said.” Captain Craig shot him a doubtful look. “The radar track doesn’t jive with that, though. The only way it makes sense is if they’re coming out of Adak.”
“Adak? What the-” Tombstone cut the thought off abruptly. As soon as the chief of staff had announced the discrepancy in the flight’s track, the conviction that Pamela Drake was behind this had hit him. It had to be — there was no other explanation.
Over the years, he’d watched Pamela’s determination to get in the middle of every fast-breaking story, marveling sometimes at the lengths to which she would go to ferret out the smallest bit of information. As a more junior officer, he’d rarely been on the receiving end of her drive to be the best reporter on any network, bar none. However, since he’d added stars to his collar, the issue of their relationship and Pamela’s profession had become increasingly problematic. Where does one draw the line? he wondered. While he might not be entirely certain of the answer himself, there was one thing he was sure of — with an ACN helicopter inbound, it was somewhere different than from where Pamela did.
“Admiral?” the chief of staff said, snapping him back to reality.
“I take it the pilot’s declared an emergency, then?” Tombstone asked.
“Yes, sir — about five minutes ago.” The chief of staff sucked in his breath as he saw the cold fire settle over Tombstone’s face. He’d expected some reaction from his boss, but not this one.
“Let them land,” Tombstone said coldly. “As soon as they’re on deck, I want to see them all in my cabin. Immediately.”
The chief of staff turned to execute the orders, feeling a fleeting pity for the civilians in the helicopter. They had no idea of what they were in for. “And COS? One other thing.” The chief of staff turned back to his boss. “Sir?”
“Get the senior JAG officer on board up here ASAP. Let those civilian idiots cool their heels in the conference room while I talk to him. And tell him to bring up his Dictaphone and any other recording equipment he might need. If this is what I think it is, I’m going to want criminal charges filed against every person on that helicopter.”
As the chief of staff left the compartment, someone tapped softly on the door between his conference room and his cabin. “Come in,” he said roughly, struggling to get his temper back under control.