Ice Hunt Read online

  Since their arrival, a handful of men and women had drifted through to gawk at the newcomers. Their faces were a blend of scientific curiosity and raw need for news of the outside world. One of the men, a researcher with a NASA group, had to be forcibly escorted away by one of the guards.

  “I don’t know who’s in charge of the civilian researchers, but I’d wager that person is gone, too.” Matt nodded to their guards. “I’m sure the civilian head of the drift station would’ve barged right past these two.”

  As if hearing him, the door burst open—but it wasn’t the head of the base. It was Lieutenant Commander Paul Sewell, head of the security team. He strode over to the table.

  Bane rose from where he lay, but Matt placed a hand on the wolf. The dog settled to his haunches, remaining alert.

  The Navy leader placed Jenny’s badge and identification on the table. “Your credentials checked out,” he said, and eyed the others. “But your superiors in Fairbanks seemed to know nothing about what you’re doing up here. They said you were on vacation.”

  He passed out the other pieces of identification: Matt’s Fish and Game badge, John’s driver’s license, and Craig’s press credentials.

  Jenny gathered her badge and ID. “What about my sidearm and shotgun?”

  “They’re in lockup until the captain returns.” His tone brooked no argument. Matt respected Lieutenant Commander Sewell’s civil but no-nonsense manner.

  Jenny did not. Her scowl grew darker. She did not like being unarmed.

  “Sir,” Craig said, “we didn’t come here to start trouble. We heard about your discovery of an abandoned ice base.”

  This drew a startled response from the lieutenant commander. “The Russian base?”

  Matt practically spit out his coffee. Russian…Jenny’s eyes widened in surprise. John settled his own mug of coffee very slowly to the table.

  Only Craig kept his face still and unresponsive. He didn’t miss a beat as he continued: “Yes, exactly. I was sent by my paper to report on the discovery. These folks agreed to escort me after I ran into some…um, problems in Alaska.”

  Matt regained his composure and nodded. “Someone tried to kill him.”

  Now it was the lieutenant commander’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

  Matt continued: “A group of paramilitary commandos sabotaged his plane and brought it down. Paratroopers dropped in to finish the job. We barely escaped to reach…Sheriff Aratuk.” He pointed to Jenny.

  She nodded. “We’ve been pursued ever since. We even think the explosions over at Prudhoe Bay are somehow connected to all this…to the discovery here.”

  “How…?” Sewell’s brow built into ridges. “Wait! Who even told you about the Russian ice station?”

  “My sources are confidential,” Craig said, facing the stern lieutenant commander. “I’ll only speak further to someone with authority here. Someone who can act.”

  A frown that matched Jenny’s formed on the Navy man’s face. As head of security, he was clearly suspicious of the newcomers. Matt noted Craig eyeing the man, too, trying to read him.

  “Before anything can be decided, I’ll need to consult with Captain Perry when he returns,” Sewell finally said.

  Passing the buck up the command chain, Matt thought.

  “And when is he due back?” Craig asked.

  Sewell just stared at him and didn’t answer.

  “Then who’s in charge of the station in the meantime?” Jenny asked. “Where’s the head of the research team? Someone we can talk to?”

  The lieutenant commander sighed, clearly straining to straddle the line between civility and authority. “That would be Dr. Amanda Reynolds. She’s…she’s out for the moment.”

  “Then what about us?” Jenny demanded. “You can’t hold us here.”

  “I’m afraid I can, ma’am.” He turned from the table and left. The guards remained at the door.

  “Well, that got us nowhere,” Matt said after a long stretch of awkward silence.

  “On the contrary.” Craig leaned closer to the table and kept his voice low. “A Russian ice base. No wonder I was called out here. Something must’ve been found over there. A political hot potato.” He ticked off points on his fingers. “The Navy clamps down the drift station. A gag order silences the scientists. And someone must have learned of my itinerary. Tried to stop me from getting here.” Craig glanced around the table.

  “The Russians?” Jenny asked.

  Craig nodded. “If it was our own government, they could’ve stopped me through a thousand legal channels. Whoever was after us was keeping their noses low to the ground, trying to go under the radar.”

  Matt nodded. “Craig could be right. The commandos certainly had a military background. It could have been a small strike team sent to execute a surgical attack.”

  “But why target me?” Craig mumbled. “I’m just a reporter.”

  Matt shook his head. “You may be the only one outside this base or a need-to-know chain of command in government who has any inkling of the discovery out here.” He silently ran over the scenario in his head. Something didn’t add up here. What was so important to require such a deadly response?

  He stared over at the Navy guards. They stood stiffly, not with the usual casual attentiveness of someone baby-sitting civilians. He had seen soldiers acting the same way prior to a battle. And Sewell’s silence when he asked when the submarine and its captain might return…it jangled Matt’s nerves with warning. If the crew had headed out to Prudhoe Bay to help in salvage and rescue, they’d be gone days. Sewell would’ve arranged rooms for them. The fact that they were still here meant the captain was expected back soon. And if this was true, why wasn’t the sub called to help at Prudhoe Bay? This was a disaster in their own backyard. Why had the submarine remained? Why did it need to stay here?

  Craig spoke up, stating the obvious. “We need to find out what’s going on.”

  “I’m open to any ideas,” Matt said.

  Jenny met Matt’s gaze. “First we have to devise some way to get over to that Russian ice station. Whatever triggered all this started there.”

  “But how?” Matt asked. “We can hardly just walk over there. And they’ve got the plane under guard.”

  No one had any answers, but from each person’s worried expression, everyone knew time was running out.

  Matt sensed forces larger than any of them swirling down upon this frozen acre of ice. Russians…Americans…a lost base hiding some secret…

  What clandestine war had they gotten themselves into?

  7

  Running Silent

  APRIL 9, 8:38 A.M.

  ABOARD THE DRAKON

  Viktor Petkov smelled the impatience wafting from the young captain. They had been at all stop for the past hour, engines quiet, resting two meters from the surface. The ice was even closer, less than a meter. An hour ago, they had found a small lead in the frozen cap, too narrow to surface through, really no more than a crack. But it was enough to roll their radio antenna up into the open air.

  As instructed, they awaited the molniya go-code from Colonel General Chenko of FSB, but the burst transmission from Lubyanka was late. Viktor’s own patience was running thin. He checked his watch again.

  “I don’t understand,” Captain Mikovsky said. “We’re due to arrive at the U.S. research station in two days. What are we waiting for now? Another exercise? To plant more meteorological equipment?” He emphasized this last, not hiding his sarcasm. The captain still believed the Polaris array was a mere listening post to spy upon the Americans.

  So be it.

  Across the bridge, the entire crew remained edgy. They had all learned of the past night’s attack on the U.S. oil station in Alaska. None knew what it meant, but they all knew the U.S. forces in the area would be at heightened alert. The waters around here had gotten much warmer, even for a diplomatic mission.

  Viktor checked his other arm. The Polaris monitor lay heavy on his wrist. The plasma screen con
tinued to depict the five-pointed star. Each point glowed, awaiting the master trigger.

  All was in order.

  Overnight, the diagnostic testing of Polaris had gone without mishap, requiring only a bit of calibration. He studied the wrist monitor. The nuclear-powered array utilized the latest sonic technology, capable of shattering the entire polar cap. But when in quiet mode, it also acted as a sensitive receiver. The five points of the star comprised a radar array, a giant ice dish spanning a hundred kilometers. Like ELF systems used in subs, no matter where in the world Admiral Petkov was, his monitor could communicate with the array.

  At the corner of the screen, a tiny red heart symbol continued its steady flash in sync with his own pulse.

  He raised his eyes just as the officer of the deck burst from the communication shack. “We’ve received a flash message! Marked for Admiral Petkov.”

  The clipboard was passed to Captain Mikovsky, who in turn passed it to Viktor.

  He took the board a few steps away and opened it. He read down the brief remarks. A cold smile formed on his lips.

  URGENT URGENT URGENT URGENT

  FM

  FEDERAL’NAYA SLUZHBA BEZOPASNOSTI (FSB)

  TO

  DRAKON

  //BT//

  REF

  LUBYANKA 76-453A DATED 8 APR

  SUBJ

  OPERATION CONFIRMATION

  TOP SECRET TOP SECRET TOP SECRET

  PERSONAL FOR FLEET COMMANDER

  RMKS/

  (1) LEOPARD OPS SUCCESSFUL AT PB. EYES LOOKING ELSEWHERE.

  (2) GO-CODE AUTHORIZED FOR TARGET ONE, DESIGNATED OMEGA.

  (3) PROCEED TO TARGET TWO ONCE SECURE, DESIGNATED GRENDEL.

  (4) PRIMARY OBJECTIVE REMAINS THE COLLECTION OF DATA AND MATERIALS FOR THE RUSSIAN REPUBLIC.

  (5) SECONDARY OBJECTIVE REMAINS TO CLEAN SITE.

  (6) BE WARNED THAT A US DELTA FORCE TEAM HAS BEEN DEPLOYED. INTEL REPORTS IDENTICAL OBJECTIVES ESTABLISHED FOR HOSTILE TEAM. OPERATIONAL CONTROLLER STILL AT LARGE. DELTA MISSION MARKED BLACK BY NSA. REPEAT BLACK.

  (7) CHANNELS CONFIRM INTENT ON BOTH SIDES.

  (8) DATA MUST NOT FALL INTO HOSTILE HANDS. ALL ACTIONS TO PREVENT THIS ARE AUTHORIZED.

  (9) COL. GEN. CHENKO SENDS.

  BT

  NNNN

  Viktor closed the binder. He reviewed Chenko’s remarks. Mission marked black by NSA…Channels confirm intent on both sides. He shook his head. It was the usual semantics of covert operations. Fancy words for the tacit agreement on both sides to the private war that was about to be fought out here. Both governments would wage this war, but neither side would acknowledge it ever happened.

  And Vickor knew why.

  There was a dark secret both governments wanted forever silenced, and an even darker prize that went with it. Neither side would ever acknowledge its existence, but neither could they leave it untouched. The stakes were too high. The prize, the fruit of his father’s labor, was a discovery that could revolutionize the world.

  But who would ultimately possess it?

  Viktor knew only one thing for certain: it was his father’s legacy. The Americans would never have it. This he swore.

  And after that…other matters could be settled.

  He glanced again to the Polaris monitor. With the go-code in hand, it was now time to start his own gambit. He pressed the silver button on the side of the wrist monitor, holding it for a full thirty seconds. He was careful not to touch the neighboring red button—at least not yet.

  Viktor stared at the monitor. He had these thirty seconds to reconsider his decision. Once Polaros was activated, there was no turning back, no retreat. He continued to hold the button, unwavering in his determination.

  During the course of his sixty-four years, he had seen Russia change: from a czarist country of kings and palaces, to a Communist state of Stalin and Khrushchev, then into a broken landscape of independent states, warring, poor, and on the brink of ruin. Each transition weakened his country, his people.

  And the world at large was no better. Century-old hatreds locked the world into strife and terror: Northern Ireland, the Balkans, Israel and the Arab states. It was a pattern that was repeated over and over without end, without resolution, without hope.

  Viktor kept the button pressed.

  It was time a new world arose, where old patterns would be shattered forever, where nations would be forced to work together in order to survive and rebuild. A new world would be born out of ice and chaos.

  It would be his legacy, in the memory of his father, his mother.

  The center trigger remained dark, but the smaller lights at the points of the star began to blink in sequence, winding around and around.

  Viktor released the button.

  It was done.

  Polaris was now activated. It only awaited the master trigger engine to be deployed at the station. Project Shockwave was about to go from theory to reality. Viktor stared at the flashing lights marking the five-pointed star, winding around and around, awaiting his final command.

  After that, there would be no abort code.

  No fail-safe.

  Mikovsky stepped over to him. “Admiral?”

  Viktor barely heard him. The captain seemed exceptionally young at the moment. So naive. His world had already ended, and he didn’t even know it. Viktor sighed. He had never felt so free.

  Unfettered of the future, Viktor had only one goal now: to retrieve his father’s body, to collect the heritage that belonged to his family.

  At the end of the world, nothing else mattered.

  “Admiral?” Mikovsky repeated. “Sir?”

  Viktor faced the captain and cleared his throat. “The Drakon has new orders.”

  9:02 A.M.

  USS POLAR SENTINEL

  Perry stood in the control station, his eyes fixed to the number one periscope. They had risen to periscope depth in an open lead ten minutes ago, slowly rising between pressure ridges. Through the scope, he stared out at the expanse of ice fields. The winds had picked up, scouring the frozen plains. Overhead, the skies had gone white. A big storm was coming in. But Perry didn’t need to check the weather outside to know this.

  All night long, they had been patrolling the waters around the drift station and the Russian base, watching for any sign of the Drakon, as ordered. But the midnight waters had remained empty. There was no sonar contact, except for a pod of beluga whales passing at the edge of their range. The Polar Sentinel seemed to be alone out here.

  Still, tension remained high among his men. They were warriors in a boat without teeth, hunting for an Akula II class fast-attack submarine. Perry had read the intel on the armaments aboard the Drakon. Russian for “dragon.” A fitting name. It was equipped not only with the usual array of torpedoes, but also rocket-propelled weapons: the lightning-fast Shkval torpedoes and SS-N-16 antisubmarine missiles. It was a formidable opponent even against the best of the American fleet…and if pitted against the tiny Polar Sentinel, it would be like a match between a tadpole and a sea dragon.

  The radioman of the watch stepped into the control station. “Sir, I’ve raised the commander at Deadhorse. But I don’t know how long I’ll be able to maintain contact.”

  “Very good.” Perry folded the periscope grips and sent the pole diving back down on its hydraulics. He followed the ensign to the radio room.

  “I was able to bounce the UHF off the ionosphere,” he said as he led the way into the room. “But I can’t promise that it’ll last.”

  Perry nodded and crossed to the radio receiver. They had gone to periscope depth to raise their antennas and send out their report for the past night, but Perry had asked the radioman to attempt to reach Prudhoe Bay. The men were anxious for an update.

  Perry unhooked and lifted the receiver. “Captain Perry here.”

  “Commander Tracy,” a ghostly voice whispered in his ear. It sounded like it was coming from the moon, faint, fading in and out. “I’m glad you were able to contact us.” br />
  “How is the search-and-rescue going?”

  “Still a circus out here, but the fires are finally contained. And we may have our first real lead on the saboteurs.”

  “Really? Any idea who they are?”

  A long pause. “I was hoping you could answer that.”

  Perry crinkled his brow. “Me?”

  “I was trying to raise Omega just as you called. An hour ago, someone anonymous sent in footage of a small aircraft flying over Gathering Station Number One just before it blew. It’s grainy, black-and-white…as if taken with a night-shot camera.”

  “What does this have to do with Omega?”

  “Your base security contacted the Fairbanks Sheriff’s Department and inquired about one of their planes and the identity of one of their sheriffs. We learned of this when we traced the call signs seen from the video footage and contacted Fairbanks ourselves. They’re the same plane.”

  “And where’s this airplane now?” Perry suspected the answer. The confirmation came a moment later.

  “It landed this morning at your base.”

  Perry closed his eyes. So much for trying to catch an hour or two of sleep in his cabin after an interminable night.

  “I’ve sent a request to your superiors for those in the plane to be transported back to Deadhorse for questioning.”

  “Do you think they blew up the pump station?”

  “That’s what we intend to find out. Either way, whoever they are, they must be kept under guard.”

  Perry sighed. He could not argue against the wisdom of that. But if they were the saboteurs, what were they doing at the base? And if they weren’t, the chain of coincidences was far too spectacular to be blamed on chance alone. First, the explosions at Prudhoe Bay, then the suspicious behavior of the Russians, and now the sudden arrival of these mysterious guests. Without a doubt, they were somehow involved in all of this. But how?