Reaching the feet, Riley hooked one arm through a rung and squeezed one of the feet with his free hand, just to let Swenson know help was here. He hooked his fingers and tore at the ice, pulling away chunks. The cold helped to numb the pain as he tore his fingernails. Riley worked by feel, the glow from the light in Sammy’s hand doing little good this far up.
“Is he all right?” she called.
Riley kept working. He had yet to get any sort of reaction from Swenson. “I need help! Get up here.”
Sammy climbed up to just below Riley. “When I get him free I’ll need your help to lower him down. He’s unconscious.” He shoved his arm up along Swenson’s chest and pulled hard. A large chunk of ice broke free, bounced off Riley, and tumbled below. He felt Swenson’s body shift and quickly grabbed the rope that was still hooked to a rung, easing the body down.
“Get him!” he yelled as he tried to unhook the snap link with numbed and bleeding fingers. Sammy had one arm wrapped around Swenson’s body, but Riley couldn’t unsnap the anchor. “Fuck it,” he muttered and pulled out his knife. The razor-sharp blade parted the rope with one swipe.
Riley reached down to help Sammy with Swenson. Together they lowered the body to the reactor floor. Riley jumped down out of the shaft as Sammy pointed the flashlight at the man’s face. The eyes were closed. Riley used his good hand to feel Swenson’s neck. He leaned over and placed his cheek next to the pilot’s mouth to see if he could pick up any breath. No breath, no pulse.
Riley tilted Swenson’s head back and blew in three quick breaths. He linked his fingers together and pressed down through the bulky clothes on the chest. Within ten seconds he was into the cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) rhythm.
He didn’t know how long he’d been at it when Sammy slid in on the other side and relieved him. Riley sank back on his haunches, his arms and shoulders burning with exhaustion. The pain from his hands was now a deep throbbing. Sometime during this process, Devlin must have regained consciousness, because he was sitting up, holding his head between his hands. Sammy had checked Conner and him and they both seemed to be all right.
Riley gave Sammy an estimated five minutes, then he took over again. Still no movement or sign of life. Riley shut down his mind and concentrated on the routine.
“He’s dead.” Sammy’s voice barely penetrated Riley’s mind. He kept on. Finally he felt Sammy’s arms wrapping around him from behind. “He’s dead, Riley. You can’t bring him back.” Riley allowed the arms to pull him away from the body.
“How’re Devlin and Conner?” Riley asked as he finally accepted the reality of Swenson’s death.
Sammy aimed the light across the room. “How are you?” she asked quietly.
Devlin lifted up a haggard face. “What happened? Earthquake?”
“I don’t know.” Sammy looked at her sister, who appeared to be disoriented. “Are you OK?”
“I think so.”
Devlin repeated his question. “What happened?”
Riley wanted to laugh at the naiveté of the question, but the feeling died just as quickly as it came. They were past the petty stuff now — way past. “One of the bombs went off.”
Sammy looked about the room. “How could we have survived?”
Riley answered succinctly. “A quarter mile of ice between us and the blast center. The low yield — ten kilotons. An underground burst, which helped contain much of the energy. Being in this reactor, which was built to contain radiation and is heavily shielded. And a lot of luck.”
“I don’t think we’ve been very lucky,” Sammy disagreed. “We started with eight people. We’ve got four left.”
“Why did the bomb go off?” Devlin asked dumbly.
‘To leave no trace,” Riley replied. ‘There’s nothing left of Eternity Base now except this reactor. They have the other bomb free and clear, and no one will ever know it’s gone.”
‘There’s us,” Sammy countered.
Riley conceded that point. “They probably underestimated the protection the reactor gave us. As far as the Koreans are concerned, we’re history.” Riley thought about what he had just said. “We may well be history, too, if we don’t get up to the surface.” He looked around in the dim glow cast by the mag light. “We can talk about what to do when we get out. If we stay here, we’ll die.”
General Morris looked up as General Hodges rapidly entered the situation room. He didn’t like the look on his subordinate’s face.
Hodges wasted no time getting to the point. “Sir, several research facilities in Antarctica have picked up a seismic disturbance. We’ve analyzed the reports.” Hodges swallowed. “Sir, based on the triangulation and the size of the shock wave, we believe there has been an approximately ten-kiloton nuclear explosion at the location we have been given for Eternity Base.”
“What about imagery?” Morris asked.
“We’ve taken some satellite shots, but nothing can be made out through the cloud cover. That large storm front still covers most of Lesser Antarctica.”
“What’s the status on our unit heading down there?”
“We’ve alerted a Special Forces unit in Panama. They’re on board a Combat Talon. Estimated time of arrival is 0500 Zulu tomorrow.”
Morris turned to the situation room’s operations officer. “What fleet assets do we have in that area?”
The officer looked up at the large world map that encompassed the entire far wall. “Nothing in the immediate area. The Third Fleet has a carrier group near Australia.”
“Order them to head south as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned back to Hodges. “What about the fallout?”
“Should be minimal, sir. The winds will sweep it out into the South Pacific. As I said, it was a very low yield.”
That didn’t make Morris feel much better. “What about the Russians? Have they picked it up?”
Hodges sighed. “They must have, sir. They have a research station less than three hundred miles away from the Eternity Base location. General Kolstov has been notified.”
Morris took a moment to collect his thoughts. “All right. I have to contact the president.”
Chapter 25
The computer log showed there had been no contact with Eternity Base for almost five hours. A message had been sent more than two hours ago, but no acknowledgment was received. The support team that Parker had dispatched was sitting in New Zealand, unable to go any farther until the weather cleared. Cordon shut down his computer and put on his suit jacket. It was time to get all the information, and there was only one man who could give him that. He made his way down the hall to the corner office of the CEO.
After checking with the secretary, Cordon entered. Parker was busy on the phone and waved for him to take a seat. Cordon settled into the large leather chair that faced the desk and waited impatiently.
Parker finally hung up. “What can I do for you, John?”
“We seem to have lost communications with the Antarctic team. They didn’t acknowledge a message sent a little over two hours ago.”
Parker frowned. “Are you sure the problem isn’t on this end?”
“Yes, sir. I had everything checked. I did notice, though, that there were two messages sent to your access code only, and I was wondering if they might have anything to do with this lack of communication. Perhaps you told them not to make contact?”
“No.” Parker shook his head. “I gave no such instructions.”
Cordon proceeded to play his hand. “There’s something else I’ve found out from one of my sources.” Cordon’s present position was a direct result of those “sources.” He often supplied SNN with information that no one else could. It had not yet occurred to anyone at the news show that Cordon might be a two-way conduit for hard-to-find information, thus increasing the flow from each side. He was known as Falcon to one side and as vice president of operations to the other.