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* * *
Aboard the MV Rama, the ranking Russian commando had been arguing with the Vietnamese captain since the appearance of the Gemini. He’d ordered them to leave station off Heard Island to avoid any trouble or repercussions should Gregorovich succeed in detonating his bomb. Running into an Australian frigate was not the outcome he’d hoped for.
“I will not surrender!” he said.
“You can’t fight them,” the captain said.
The tracer rounds flashed by in the dark. That concerned him but did not change his mind. Then the “missile” was launched.
“Incoming!”
The commandos and the bridge crew hit the deck just as the missle lit up the world in front of them, rocketing past the main windows.
“That was too close,” the captain said.
“They wouldn’t fire a missile at poachers,” another commando insisted. “They must know we’re here and what we’ve done. If we don’t stop, we’ll all be killed.”
“We cannot fight them,” the Vietnamese captain repeated. “But you can negotiate once they’re aboard. Diplomatic immunity. That’s what you’ll claim. But only if you’re alive.”
The commando doubted the captain’s take on International Maritime Law, but he believed he would be better served, and more likely to live, if he surrendered rather than fighting.
“Do as they say,” he agreed reluctantly.
* * *
On the Gemini’s bridge, Gamay waited tensely. If their bluff didn’t work, they would have to try to risk a dangerous boarding maneuver in the storm.
She was about to make one more threat over the loudspeaker when the marine radio squawked.
“This is the MV Rama,” a voice said in accented English. “We will reduce speed to seven knots and allow your men to come aboard.”
A cheer went up on the bridge, and Gamay relayed the message to the others.
“Great work Commander Wallaby,” the captain said.
She smiled. Now the boarding would only be risky, not foolhardy beyond belief.
FORTY-THREE
“This is a mine,” Kurt whispered to himself.
He’d found quarried-out sections, discovered a conveyor belt loaded with gravel and a series of pipes along the wall that probably ran electrical wire. He’d found picks and a jackhammer and wheelbarrows.
What a mine was doing hidden on Heard Island, Kurt didn’t know. Nor did it matter at the moment. His only concerns were finding Joe and Hayley, if they were alive, and stopping Thero no matter what.
He slipped off the heavy parka, stashed it, and pulled his backpack on once again. He began moving down the dark tunnel, his hand on the conveyor belt, his head ducked to avoid any dangerous outcroppings of rock he probably wouldn’t see until it was too late.
After passing several other areas that had been quarried extensively, he came to a larger room. This one was dimly lit by a pair of exposed bulbs.
The conveyor belt ended there, beside a group of large machines designed to crush and sort the gravel. He’d seen this kind of setup before. It was an underground diamond mine. Suddenly, he had a better idea how Thero was financing the operation.
He saw a door on the far side and crossed the room toward it. Just as he reached for the handle, the door moved, inching open. Kurt stepped back and raised the pistol as a trio of men came through.
“Don’t move!” Kurt growled.
The men froze in place, and a tense standoff ensued. Kurt might have drilled all three of them, but without a silencer the gunshots would have echoed through the cave and brought the rest of Thero’s men running.
As they stared at the gun, Kurt studied them. They carried sharpened staves made of crude metal instead of guns. Two of them appeared almost petrified, the third just as shoc
