No, damn it! All he said was, he'd find his own way out.
What do you want us to do?
As much as Max wanted to delay, he knew that Eddie and his group of freed captives would eventually draw attention. Get to the submersible as fast as you can. Maybe Juan's already on his way. His radio could be dead.
We're moving.
Hanley tried calling Cabrillo on every preset frequency their radios picked up. He got no response. He knew in his gut that Juan hadn't gotten clear when the gas processor blew. There hadn't been enough time. He'd sacrificed himself to stick to their plan.
THE SCENE ON THE GROUND was absolute pandemonium. Lieutenant Jimenez couldn't find the Major, and the discipline they had drilled into their men seemed to have evaporated. This was the start of the American attack and yet many of his troopers abandoned their positions to gawk at the conflagration. He screamed at them to return to their posts and get ready for the assault. Noncoms added their snarls, and slowly they started getting the soldiers to pay attention to their duty.
Oil workers ignored the curfew and poured from their dormitories to see what had happened. When Jimenez yelled at them to return indoors, he was met with derision. Within minutes of the blast, a hundred men or more were outside.
A Corporal approached and saluted. Lieutenant, it's not the Americans.
What? What did you say?
It's not the Americans, sir. The Guillermo broke free from her mooring and drifted into the big processing plant. That's what caused the explosion.
Are you certain?
I saw it myself. It looks like a quarter of the ship is buried inside the building.
Jimenez couldn't believe it. An accident caused all this? Have you seen Major Espinoza?
No, sir. I'm sorry.
If you see him, tell him I'm investigating the plant.
Sir. Yes, sir.
Jimenez was about to start across the complex when he heard the unmistakable chatter of an automatic weapon. This was no accident. He took off at a run toward where the gunfire originated.
WHEN THE EXPLOSION ROCKETED into the storm-torn sky, Linc started hustling the prisoners out to the entry vestibule while Eddie used a lighter to ignite the flammable jelly. It went up even better than he'd hoped. The wood paneling was the cheapest product available and was made of sawdust and glue that burned furiously. In seconds, the top layer of space was a dense cloud of smoke.
He made sure he was the last person out. He rushed across the room where the guards still slept. They left the door open so fresh air would revive them, though the reason behind this was to feed the fire and not offer these men any humanity.
As Cabrillo had predicted, the Argentines had temporarily lost control of the situation. Soldiers had left their patrol sectors, and civilians were mingling in with the troops.
A half mile away, the fire at the gas plant glowed orange and yellow through the curtain of blowing snow. Eddie didn't have to see it to know the building was a total loss. Without that facility, the men had no way of powering their base. In one fiery instant, the Corporation turned the Argentines from masters of the Antarctic Peninsula to people who were going to need rescuing within days or risk freezing to death. Their hope of annexing this region was over. The world would not sit idly back and let them rebuild.
All that remained now was, getting away with it.
He didn't like that they were such a big group. Large numbers attract attention; however, no one seemed to be paying them heed. Most were making their way closer to the huge blaze to see what had happened.
He made his report to the Oregon, and was as troubled as Max about Juan's disappearance. But he knew the Chairman and had a pretty good feeling that he was boarding the minisub this second.
They kept moving at a pace that wasn't quite a jog but more than a walk. The buildings were packed tightly together, and it was only a matter of time before they rounded a blind corner and ran into a sentry.
Linc had given the point position to him so that once they reached the Nomad, Eddie could go directly to the cockpit without having to climb over their guests.
The guard had his back turned when Eddie saw him. In the distance, he could see where the white ground gave way to the black ocean. The pier was less than a hundred yards away.
Sensing more than hearing anything, the soldier spun in place, his weapon held ready. Jaguar, he challenged.
Capybara, Eddie returned.
The soldier asked a question. Seng spoke no Spanish, and realized Linc should have stayed on point. Eddie cupped his glove to his hood as if to say he didn't hear the question. Ignoring Seng's pantomime, the sentry moved closer to look at the people with him. Though they were shapeless under the heavy parkas, there was no disguising that three of them were much shorter than average. Short enough to be women, something the complex had none of.
He went straight for the blonde, whose name was Sue, and pushed back her hood to reveal her cherubic face. He whipped up his H&K and aimed it point-blank between her eyes. No one would ever know if he intended to fire. Linc dropped him with a three-round burst.
In a fit of inspiration, Eddie raised his own machine pistol and loosed an entire magazine into the air. The soldiers were nervous, had no information about what was going on, and had doubtlessly been told since their arrival that American commandos would be hitting them any day. Even the most seasoned veteran would be panicky right about now, so a moment after Eddie's burst some young recruit on the other side of the base saw a shadow he was certain was a Green Beret and opened fire. Like opening a flood-gate, men began shooting indiscriminately, the chatter of autofire rising above the roar of the burning gas plant and the shriek of the wind.
Linc got it immediately. He toed the corpse. This poor sap got hit by his own guys.
That's how it'll read. I'll be surprised if they actually don't shoot a few of their own themselves.
They took off again and made it to the dock moments later. The gunfire didn't let up one bit, which worked to their advantage right until the instant a stray bullet caught one of the scientists in the leg. He crashed to the ground, clutching at the wound and moaning.
It wasn't a life-threatening wound, at least at that moment, so Linc picked him off the snow and threw him over his shoulder with barely a break in stride.
The Nomad had drifted a bit out from under the dock, so Eddie had to haul it back on its line. He jumped aboard and opened the hatch.
Juan? he called, even as he lowered himself into the craft. The Chairman wasn't back yet.
Eddie, Linc said from the top of the hull. Help me here.
The former SEAL lowered the injured man through the hatch. His pant leg was stained with blood, and more of it dripped from the wound. His femoral artery had been nicked. He laid the injured scientist on one of the padded benches and was about to get to work on the wound when another of the prisoners leapt down into the submersible and shouldered him aside.
I'm a doctor.
Eddie didn't need to hear anything further. He scrambled forward to the cockpit and threw himself into the pilot's seat.
Max, can you hear me? he said into his mike, while he got busy prepping the sub for its return to the Oregon.
Any sign of Juan? Hanley asked.
No. We're loading onto the Nomad now. He isn't here.
The silence stretched to fifteen seconds. Twenty. Max finally asked, How long do you think you can hang there?
I don't think at all. One of the scientists was shot. Looks like he could bleed out. He needs to be in the OR as fast as we can get him there. Whenever there was a mission under way, Dr. Huxley and her staff were standing by in Medical ready to treat anything that came their way.