For those remaining in the submarine, the conditions were much improved. The rescue pod brought fresh oxygen cylinders and more portable CO2 scrubbers, so the air became breathable. But their rescuers were not able to do much about the cold. Thomas encouraged those outside the escape hatch to move about and exercise in an effort to keep them warm. Whenever Thomas spotted any member of the remaining crew suffering seriously, he brought them to the front of the queue for the next trip to the surface.
Captain White was genuinely pleased with how his XO had moved about the men, checking to see if they needed anything, swapping a story here and there and keeping their spirits up. He made a mental note to recommend Thomas for a medal of commendation when he returned to Groton.
Once on board LK-80, each man was briefly checked by a medic before being transferred to a RIB, then to the base camp, and from there onto a waiting cargo plane. Two air round trips had already been made, each carrying a group from the submarine and part of the base personnel to safety. The plane stood on the runway, waiting for the last party.
The submarine looked almost empty with just 17 sailors left. They would need two more visits by the rescue capsule to return all the crew topsides. Captain White tried not to think about the five bodies laid out in the medical bay. Thomas volunteered to remain behind with the Captain, so they could man-handle the bodies into the PRM for the final transfer. It would make the journey to the surface a touch grim, but the Captain felt it would be only fitting to accompany the seamen who had lost their lives.
Sean switched on the homing beacon and rummaged in his rucksack.
Khostov had landed badly, his ankle either broken or sprained. Sean found a small first aid kit which the RAF had thoughtfully included. Using a bandage, he bound the ankle to Khostov’s other leg, temporarily immobilising him. He would have a more thorough check when they reached the American base.
Here on the ground the wind had quietened, but visibility remained poor. Sean thought about helping to carry Khostov towards the Americans, but he knew they were already on their way. He decided it would be better to conserve energy, and struggled to get Khostov into a survival bag.
While waiting he gazed up through the falling snow. He could hear several aircraft patrolling above. Less than five minutes later the Americans arrived on Skidoos. One of the machines pulled a sled, and Sean helped to move Khostov onto it, and hopped on to the spare seat.
Twenty minutes later they approached the military camp. When they arrived, soldiers lifted Khostov into a hut. The medic examined Khostov’s ankle, and Sean was handed a hot mug of coffee.
A big soldier beckoned and they moved to stand outside of Khostov’s earshot.
‘I’m Major Pierce.’ He began to brief Sean on what to expect. ‘Most of the submarine crew have left. The Russians have imposed a deadline to evacuate the ship and our base. He looked at his watch. We should be finished in the next two hours, but we’ll leave a skeleton team on board LK-80 to look after the reactor. Everyone else will be evacuated. One plane is standing by for the remainder.’ He pointed towards the cargo carrier.
‘What about the air cover?’
‘They’ll stay aloft until we go.’
‘What’s the latest on the reactor?’
‘The engineers managed to delay a meltdown for now.’ Major Pierce nodded towards Khostov. ‘Thanks to him. They hope when he arrives he’ll stop it happening altogether.’
‘Then the sooner we get over there, the better.’
‘No-one’s keener than me to sew up this job.’
They moved back to Khostov, and the medic glanced up. ‘He has a sprained ankle, is all. I’ve bound it to a plastic heel support, so he should be able to move OK.’
‘Right,’ said the Major. ‘Let’s get you over to the ship.’
He accompanied them to a steel jetty erected on the edge of the ice and helped Khostov onto a waiting RIB. The journey to LK-80 was short. When Khostov noticed the steepness of the ladder, he glanced briefly at Sean. Major Pierce caught the look. ‘Allow me, prof.’ He bent, directing Khostov to grip his shoulders. Without a second’s hesitation he carried Khostov piggy-back style up the steep rungs. Sean watched in admiration. The big man was climbing the ladder with Khostov on his back faster than Sean could with a rucksack.
When Sean and Khostov reached the deck, they saw a group of sailors being led to several RIBs on the port side. The men were wearing shiny metallic survival blankets, accompanied by American troops.
‘From the submarine?’ queried Khostov.
Major Pierce nodded. ‘I’ll take you to the plant operations room.’
Entry was aft of the Bridge on Bridge Deck 4, through a set of double doors. Major Pierce keyed in a number to the external combination lock and held the door open for Khostov and Sean.
The room was huge, the height of two decks. Sean was overwhelmed by the number of controls which ran around the three walls opposite. The panels were covered in a multitude of dials and switches, which extended out into the room at desk height. A harsh light illuminated the space, giving the impression they had entered an operating theatre. Two men dressed in white overalls were tending a console.
They turned as Major Pierce approached. He introduced Sean and Khostov.
‘I’ll leave you three to get acquainted,’ said Sean. ‘Meanwhile perhaps Major Pierce here could give me a quick tour of the ship?’
The Major nodded agreement and they left Khostov in a huddle with the two nuclear engineers.
The movement was so quick Sean almost dismissed it. He stopped in his tracks, and held up his hand. Behind him, Major Pierce paused too. Silently Sean pointed to the port side, and the Major quietly crossed the deck. Sean marvelled at how quickly the big man moved. He would be an incredible asset to the Section. Together they crept forward, keeping low. Sean climbed the companionway up to Bridge Deck 3. Although he couldn’t see Pierce, he knew he was doing the same on the port side.
When Sean stepped onto the deck, he spotted the wraith again — this time in human form. The man appeared to be swaddled in layers of odd clothing. A couple of old sacks tied around the middle completed the strange picture. He slunk into a cabin. Sean caught sight of Pierce opposite and signalled for the marine to follow. Seconds later the Major joined him and they observed the man through the window.
He was bent over a safe, twiddling the combination. They watched as he withdrew a large brown envelope and stuffed it beneath the sacks and other layers he was wearing. Sean nodded, and Major Pierce opened the door silently. Sean followed him in.
The effect was almost comical. The man did a double take, then looked towards the exit. Sean could see the cogs whirring. The door represented his only means of escape — could he make it past the two of them?
‘Who are you?’ His voice was barely a whisper.
‘What’s more to the point — who are you, and what are you doing here?’ Sean responded.
‘This is my cabin.’ The man gazed around the walls. ‘And I am the Captain of this ship.’
‘And the packet?’
The Captain’s face fell. Perhaps he thought they hadn’t seen him tuck the envelope into his clothes.
‘Give!’ Sean held out his hand.
Reluctantly the Captain handed it over. Sean noted the red seal had already been broken. He opened the flap and withdrew several sheets of parchment-like paper. The writing was in Cyrillic. He showed it to Major Pierce, who shrugged his shoulders. Sean scanned the text for a few moments. ‘These look like orders.’