Kurt studied the location of the snowmobile photos. “Just inland from Winston Lagoon,” he said. “A good place to shelter. But I don’t see any ships there.”
“So they were dropped off,” Gregorovich said. “This is Thero’s way. His lab in Yagishiri was underground. His experiments involve delving deep into the Earth. Those hatches lead to Thero’s compound. I’m sure of it.”
Kurt didn’t doubt it. But nor did he doubt that Thero would be prepared for an assault. “Do you think they heard your drones?”
“The men we spotted showed no sense of alarm,” Gregorovich said. “Our drones are nearly silent, and almost invisible to the naked eye.”
Kurt nodded. The Rama was still over the horizon and making only enough steam to hold station in the current. “Did you scan for radar sources?”
Gregorovich nodded. “No emissions. It seems they’re relying on stealth alone to protect them. They don’t know we’re coming.”
“There are other, more passive ways to detect an enemy’s approach,” Kurt said. “Infrared like your drone used. Visual. He could have motion-detecting cameras or even track you by sound. You head right for him and he’ll take your helicopters out before you hit the beach. And since he’s underground, lobbing a few missiles in his direction won’t do much to him either.”
“We have no reason to believe Thero possesses antiaircraft weapons,” Kirov sneered.
“He doesn’t need them,” Kurt said. “He has his death ray. If he spots this ship, he’ll send a massive distortion out to crush it just like he did the Orion. And if he spots your birds in the air, he’ll hit you with another weapon he’s developed. Something they call a flash-draw. He used it on the ASIO. It will shut down every system on your aircraft including the pilot’s nervous system. You’ll all be dead on impact before anyone wakes up.”
Kurt was talking fast, urgently trying to seize the initiative before they decided they no longer needed him. The Russians stared at him as if he were making it up.
“You’re just trying to save your neck,” Kirov guessed.
“Well, I’m rather fond of my neck,” he said. “I’ve become attached to it after all these years.”
Kirov didn’t seem to appreciate the humor.
Gregorovich glanced down at the map. “We could hold our current position,” he began. “Take the helicopters out to the north, well beyond visual range, and then swing around behind the island. By coming in from the north side of the island, we’ll be using the central massif to conceal our approach. In that way, we should arrive undetected.”
“This is ridiculous,” Kirov said. “Now we’re taking orders and tactical advice from our prisoner?”
Gregorovich ignored him and pointed to a spot on the map near the shoulder of Big Ben. “If we come in over saddle point and set down here on the far side of Big Ben, they shouldn’t be alerted to our presence. From there, it’s no more than seven or eight miles to the Winston Lagoon. Most of it downhill.”
It was a good plan. And they certainly didn’t need Kurt to pull it off. “Well, there you go,” he said, his hand edging closer to the Makarov in case he’d just outlived his usefulness.
“Not just us,” Gregorovich replied.
Kurt narrowed his gaze.
“We’re taking you and your crew with us.”
“Gonna be a little tight on those helicopters with so many people and the extra fuel you’ll need for the long circular journey.”
“As it turns out, a few seats have become available,” Gregorovich said. “Twelve of the commandos have taken ill with a horrendous stomach virus.”
“So give them some fluids and tell them to quit goldbricking,” Kurt said, hoping no one would actually listen to his advice.
Gregorovich shook his head. “We’re not going to hike a glacier with men puking their guts out every five minutes. They’re too dehydrated and weak to be of any use. You and your people will take their place.”
“Not all of our people are healthy either,” Kurt said. “Four of them are in your sick bay.”
“Only three,” Kirov corrected. “It seems one of them died during the night. From lingering effects of shock.”
“All they needed were basic treatments,” Kurt said angrily. “What kind of people are you?”
“The kind who will draw blood if we need to,” Gregorovich said, taking the conversation back from Kirov and unmistakably referencing their chess game and the altercation that nearly ended in both of their deaths. “The others will get the attention they deserve as long as you cooperate.”
Kurt stared. “Who do you want to bring?”
“You, your friend Zavala, and Ms. Anderson.”
“There’s no reason to bring her at this point,” Kurt said.
“I don’t need a reason,” Gregorovich said.
Kurt wondered if the Russian knew this was exactly what he’d hoped for. “Fine,” he said. “But not until I’m sure the others have been treated.”
A smirk appeared on the Russian’s rugged face. “Still protecting your pawns?” he asked. “So be it. They will receive what they need. But for you and I, the time has come. We’ll finish our game tonight right here where you said we’d be: at the very ends of the Earth.”
THIRTY-TWO
Gamay Trout sat in the darkened room of the Gemini’s ROV control center. She stared at the flickering black-and-white monitor in front of her. Twelve thousand feet below them, one of the ship’s deep-diving ROVs had come across a debris field.
Broken and mangled wreckage littered the seafloor in a familiar pattern. She had seen dozens like it before as NUMA explored and cataloged various wrecks. Only, this wreck was one of their own.
“Magnetometer reading peaking,” Paul said from beside her. “She’s got to be close.”
Paul and Gamay and the Gemini’s captain were crowded into the room along with three other techs. The quarters were tight, and no one wanted to see what they were about to find. Gamay slowed the ROV and tilted the camera upward. A moment later, the red hull plating of the Orion’s keel came into view along with her bent rudder and six-bladed propeller. The ship was lying on her side.
“That’s her,” the captain said grimly. “Bring the ROV up a hundred feet. Let’s see the big picture.”
Gamay did as ordered, operating calmly, despite the sick feeling in her stomach.
The ROV rose above the wreckage to reveal the true extent of the damage. The ship’s keel had been split wide open, like someone cracking a giant egg. Somehow, the two halves remained attached as she sank, but there was so much damage it was hard to make sense of it.
“No wonder they went down so fast,” Paul said.
As the ROV drifted on the current, they could see that the breach ran the width of the hull.
“Never seen a ship holed like that,” the captain said.
The ship began to drift out of view.
“Gamay?” Paul said, concerned at seeing her white face.
She stood up. “Someone else take over, please.”
As one of the other techs took her seat, she stepped through the crowd and made her way to the aft deck. She pushed the hatch open and welcomed the icy chill of the outside air.
A deep breath helped ease the feeling that had come over her, but as her gaze fell upon a tarp lashed to the deck, the uncomfortable feeling returned. Under the tarp were three bodies they’d found and pulled from the sea. Crewmen from the Orion who’d drowned or died of hypothermia awaiting rescue. They now lay in bags on the deck. The ship had no cold storage, but the freezing air of the Antarctic waters was the next-best thing.
She turned away as Paul came out behind her.