‘Captain Raymond Ozenna, Rake, this is Colonel Ruslan Yumatov.’ His voice was crisp and firm. ‘You need to give yourself in. You will be treated fairly, according to law.’
The wind had gone. They could hear the hum of the generator and a Russian helicopter in the distance. Yumatov let the microphone dangle, then lifted it again and said, ‘I understand you won’t listen to me, Rake. But Carrie is here, and she will speak to you.’
He held out the microphone to her. Carrie didn’t move.
EIGHTEEN
Through the green night vision of a telescopic sight, Rake watched Carrie face Yumatov down. Clouds of breath seeped through her mask. She was alive and acting her familiar stubborn self. Even though that made her less safe, a sense of relief flooded through Rake. Yumatov was learning fast. Rake heard Yumatov making his appeal and Carrie refusing to take the microphone. He feared for what Yumatov might have on her. Did he know that Carrie was half-Russian, that her parents were from the glory days of the Soviet era? How would he use that? Or, better still, how would she?
Rake glimpsed Timo, stepping into the light, then moving back again. The boy was still in his green fur jacket, but what caught Rake’s attention was that the Russian soldier with him was wearing not regular uniform, but the white Arctic thermal suit of the American Eskimo scouts with the badges torn off. From the easy manner with which he handled Timo, Rake thought this might be Nikita Tuuq. The last time they met, Tuuq was attached to Russian special forces of the Arctic Joint Strategic Command. The first time they met was when Rake was a child.
He zoomed in on the figure, who kept moving between light and shadow as if he knew how not to be identified. Which convinced Rake that it was Tuuq. If so, was it coincidence? Did Tuuq happen to be the guy on shift, or did the Russians know all about Tuuq and Rake? Either way, Tuuq was being deployed to bring Rake in, which gave Tuuq a just cause to complete unfinished business. There was no way he would let Rake get away this time. If they met, only one of them would walk away alive. Rake lowered the night-vision sight to watch with the naked eyes and assess. Would Carrie and the others be safer if he surrendered now or if he kept going? The same question echoed back to him, but this time with Tuuq center frame. As soon as he surrendered, he would be living a death sentence and Carrie and the hostages would be no safer. If he kept going, the one thing Rake knew was that in head-to-head combat Tuuq would beat him.
As a child Tuuq was sullen, small for his age and wafer-thin. But on the ice, he had the strength of a giant, and the way he handled a sled and dogs had left Rake in awe. Henry had brought Rake and Ondola to the Russian settlement of Uelen for a reunion with the families from the Russian side of the Diomedes, where the Soviets had forcibly resettled them during the cold war. It was the harshest winter, and they had travelled by jeep, dog sled, even on horseback to get there. Henry had hoped to find Rake’s father, reunite him with his ten-year-old son, and persuade him to come back.
Tuuq, two years older, had challenged Rake to a race, each with a sled and one dog. The Uelen settlement stood on a long and narrow strip of land with the sea on one side and a lagoon on the other. Tuuq said they would race from two miles out with Ondola staying back on the finishing line as judge. He led Rake through rugged and cracked ice, a more weather-worn landscape than anything he had seen around the Diomedes. There were streaks of blackness like curving rivers and ridges that blocked the path and stood like dominoes. Thick fog patches moved faster than dogs and suddenly blurred everything then vanished, leaving light and clarity. Wind screamed all the time.
Rake’s dog was a lean restless black and white husky. His name was Buka, meaning bad temper. Rake was good at calming dogs and on the way out to the start line he had soothed Buka, gently familiarizing him with his command. Before they started, Tuuq walked over, knelt on the snow next to Rake’s sled, tilted back his head and cried out with a long undulating howl that sounded exactly like a dog in pain. It chilled Rake and made the huskies skittish.
Back on his own sled, Tuuq let off a whistle to which Buka reacted by sprinting forward. Rake could not control him. The husky veered through broken ice, taking the sled within inches of jagged ice pillars. Terrified, Rake pulled back on the straps, but Buka ran faster and more erratically until without warning his forelegs buckled under him. The dog fell in a violent somersault. The sled smashed into his back. As Rake was hurled forward he heard the crunch of Buka’s breaking bones. He lay, listening to the barking howl of Buka’s pain.
Tuuq arrived laughing. He drew a knife, cut Buka’s throat, and held the bloodied blade inches from Rake’s face. ‘Go home, you yellow Yankee coward,’ he sneered. ‘Or I’ll make you howl to the moon like a dog.’
Tuuq sledded off towards the settlement. Hours later, Ondola found Rake, who was close to hypothermia with a broken leg. Much longer, and Rake would have died. Tuuq had refused to show Ondola where he was. The next day, Henry took them away. He had failed to find Rake’s father. No one had seen him for months. A week later, safely back on Little Diomede and with Rake’s leg healing, Henry apologized for taking him there and told him the whole story about his father sleeping with Tuuq’s mother, which probably made them half-brothers. If Tuuq had the chance, Henry warned, he would try to kill him again.
A couple of years back, Rake and Ondola had met Tuuq again on a joint US-Russian military exercise. Tuuq was uncommunicative, but he stayed professional and he competed hard. At the end of the week, like a footballer, Tuuq gave Rake his army hat. Rake gave him his white snow gear, which Tuuq was now wearing.
Rake watched as Timo slipped out of sight. Tuuq kept moving, feather-like, gliding, at home with the ice as if he knew Rake was there. Yes, Tuuq had been sent here to get him, brother against brother, Eskimo against Eskimo. For the kill. Because this was Tuuq.
He studied Carrie again and guessed she had made up her mind and wouldn’t do what Yumatov asked. An air of foreboding hung between them. There was something fearless about Carrie when she was in a corner. It was up to the Russians to decide how to handle her.
Yumatov handed the microphone back to a soldier. Tuuq stepped into view, stationary and exposed. Timo stood behind him. Yumatov, much taller, leant down to hear what Tuuq was saying. Then he issued an order. Two soldiers took Carrie’s arms and led her back towards the school.
NINETEEN
Stephanie met Kevin Slater’s car as he arrived back at the White House and took him straight to the East Garden. They walked side by side, trailed by the Secret Service agents and officers from Britain’s Specialist Protection Command. Light snow fell.
‘I’ve got you a chair in the Situation Room,’ she said. ‘There’ll be a camera there.’
Slater made clear his irritation. ‘You brought me back here for a photo-op?’
‘A defining image, sir. Britain at the heart—’
‘If I’m seen in that room, it means I sign off on whatever Swain or Holland decide.’
‘It means you’ll be better informed on what to decide.’
‘Don’t blinker me, Stephanie,’ said Slater. ‘I will not be conned into siding with the Americans.’
Stephanie stopped under the trees on the frost-covered lawn. She had anticipated a showdown, which was why she had brought them out here. ‘When history’s written, your party, your beliefs, your manifesto will be forgotten. You will be remembered for what you do right now as events unfold today. You are now a world leader, not an activist running the parliamentary opposition.’