“Oh, shit,” Sammy muttered. She turned away and looked back. “Dave!”
Chapter 32
Riley had managed to crawl almost ten feet, leaving a trail of red on the ice, before he could go no farther. A logical part of his mind recognized that he was going into shock from the combination of loss of blood and cold, but the fact didn’t bother him very much. It would be only moments before the Korean finished entering the code and the bomb went off, so oblivion wasn’t far off either way.
As he retreated into unconsciousness, a persistent voice calling his name intruded. With great difficulty, Riley cracked his eyes and peered up. A sharp blow across his cheek barely elicited a response from his frozen skin.
“Wake up, goddamnit!”
Riley found a scrap of energy and tried to focus. “What?” he muttered.
“The Korean was messing with the bomb. We stopped him, but I need to know if he finished arming it.” Sammy leaned close. “Are you hurt bad?”
“I’m all right,” Riley said. ‘Take me to the bomb.”
As Sammy grabbed his arms, the pain brought him fully alert. He tried to help with little pushing motions of his feet as Sammy and Conner dragged him across the ice.
“I can’t land on the ice,” the pilot said for the third time. “This aircraft needs fifty-six inches of solid ice to support it, and you can’t tell that by looking out the window.” The Osprey’s engines were in the helicopter position and they were cruising at forty knots above the ice.
Bellamy accepted the inevitable. “All right. Then give me a hover and we’ll fast-rope out.”
“OK.”
Bellamy turned to Captain Manchester and signaled. Manchester and an NCO began rigging the fast rope to bolts in the ceiling of the Osprey, while Bellamy looked out over the pilot’s shoulder. He could see both the submarine and the ship, which was slowly making its way out of the ice pack.
“Where’s the bomb?” he asked.
The pilot did a gentle bank right. ‘There,” he pointed.
The sled was a long black spot on the ice. Bellamy noted the three figures, two dragging one, less than twenty feet away. He ran back to the rear of the plane as his team lined up on the rope.
“There’re three people on the ice near the bomb. They make a move for it, take them out.”
The first man nodded and slipped the selector switch on his MP5 sub off safe. The plane came to a halt, and Manchester threw open the door.
Sammy and Conner propped up Riley so he could look at the LED screen. He scanned it for ten long seconds and then shook his head. “He entered five of the six numbers on the PAL code. You stopped him before he could enter the last one. It’s all right. We’re safe.”
They looked up as the Osprey came to a hover overhead and a thick rope uncoiled out the door. Riley watched the first man slide down with the MP5 over his shoulder, quickly followed by a line of men, slithering down to the ice less than thirty feet away.
“Get me away from the bomb,” he told the women. “NOW!”
Sammy grabbed his jacket and pulled him back, the bomb between them and the men, just as bullets cracked by overhead.
“Cease fire!” someone was yelling. “We don’t want to hit the bomb. Alpha team, fan right. Bravo, cover.”
“I think we’d better surrender,” Riley suggested. “Just keep your hands far away from your sides and start yelling in English.”
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Sammy and Conner called out as four men rushed up, weapons at the ready.
“Freeze! You on the ground — hands away from your sides.”
“He’s wounded,” Sammy informed them.
“Step away!” One of the man carefully rolled Riley over while another kept a weapon on him. “Shit,” the man muttered as Riley’s blood-encrusted jacket came into view.
“Berkman, get over here. We’ve got some work for you.”
As the medic went to work on Riley, Major Bellamy checked the bomb. His heart gave a jump when he noted that five of the six numbers for the PAL code were entered. They’d been just in time. He didn’t understand what had happened or who these three people were, but he didn’t need to. His job was to simply secure everything. The powers-that-be would determine what to do about the prisoners.
He had one of his men do a quick bore sample to check for ice depth, and once he found a good spot, he ordered Manchester to land the Osprey. As soon as the aircraft settled down, he loaded the bomb, the prisoners, and his men on board and they lifted, heading back for the Kitty Hawk. As they took off, the Russian submarine slowly sank under the surface. There was nothing left except Riley’s blood and the rapidly retreating Korean ship.
Chapter 33
Cordon looked up from the computer screen as his door banged open and Stu Fernandez stormed in. He quickly blanked the screen. “What’s wrong?”
Fernandez leaned forward, both hands on Cordon’s desk. “The tapes are gone.”
“Which tapes?”
“Conner’s Antarctica tapes. Both the original and the edited version. They’re gone and no one knows where they are.”
Cordon frowned. “They weren’t signed out?”
“No.”
“Well, don’t you have a backup?”
“No. If you remember, you told me not to make copies, for security reasons.”
Cordon rubbed his chin. “Hmm. OK. It’s not a big deal. We’ll have the originals from Conner as soon as she links up with the support team. Just have her retransmit.”
Fernandez shook his head. “That’s another problem. We’ve had no contact with her for twenty-four hours. And someone ordered the support team to stay at McMurdo Station and not go forward to Eternity Base.”
Cordon held up a hand. “Listen. Just calm down. Mr. Parker is handling this whole situation personally. I suggest you get back to work and don’t worry about Eternity Base. Everything is being taken care of there. It is no longer your concern.”
“That’s my story!” Fernandez fumed. “Conner’s mine. You can’t—”
“Go back to your office.” Cordon’s voice was ice cold. “If you want to continue working here, I suggest you drop this whole subject.”
Fernandez pulled his hands off the desk and regarded his boss for a few seconds, then he turned and left.
When the door slammed shut, Cordon turned off the computer. He took his briefcase and left the building, walked three blocks, and turned the corner. He had to wait only five seconds before a car with tinted windows pulled up to the curb and the back door opened. Cordon got in and the car pulled away.
“Do you have them?”
Cordon pulled out the two tapes and handed them over.
The Apache helicopter raced up on the Bell Jet Ranger and matched speed to the left of the smaller aircraft. The 30mm cannon that hung under the nose of the attack gunship turned until it was pointing directly at the Jet Ranger. The Apache pilot keyed his radio.
“Helicopter tail number four seven six, you are directed to assume a heading of one six five degrees. You are to make no radio transmissions. You have ten seconds to comply.”
The gunner in the front seat of the Apache nervously caressed his trigger and waited. The Jet Ranger made no change in course.
“You have five seconds.”
The gunner had destroyed numerous Iraqi tanks during the Gulf War and had no doubts about what his 30mm cannon could do. He couldn’t believe the other aircraft was ignoring them.
The pilot counted down. “Four. Three. Two. One.” The pilot switched to intercom. “What’s wrong with the guy?”