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“Come on,” Kurt said, noticing that the wind had picked up and that snow flurries had begun to fall. “We have less than eighteen hours.”
Gregorovich directed Zavala into one helicopter with Kirov and ordered Kurt and Hayley into the other. He climbed inside with them.
“How many men do we have?” Kurt asked as the door was buttoned tight and the engines began to wind up.
“Ten, not counting the pilots,” he said. “You three. Myself, Kirov, and five commandos.”
Kurt noticed three snowmobiles and piles of rope and climbing equipment in the rear section of the cavernous helicopter. “Are we riding or walking?”
“Both,” Gregorovich said. “We’ll take the snowmobiles for most of the journey, but near the edge of the glacier the sound of the engines will carry through the cavern. At that point, we’ll go on foot.”
As if on cue, the whine of the turbines reached a fever pitch, and the howl of the rotors’ downwash began to shake the heavily laden copter. It rocked back and forth for a few seconds and then slowly began to rise. Kurt stared out the window as a crosswind caught them.
Still rising, they were blown sideways. The pilot corrected just in time to avoid clipping one of the shipping containers. After climbing another thirty feet higher, they peeled away to the port side, accelerating as they passed the bow of the Rama.
Since they were without headsets, the thundering sound of the rotors made it necessary to shout just to be heard. “Think she’ll be here when we get back?” Kurt yelled, taking one last look at the Rama.
Gregorovich shrugged. “I really don’t care one way or another.”
At least three commandos remained behind, not counting those who were sick with food poisoning. Kurt hoped they would honor the uneasy peace, and he figured Captain Winslow and his XO would put up a stiff fight if they didn’t, but there was nothing more Kurt could do to protect them. All that mattered now was completing the mission ahead.
“So how do you plan to stop him?” Kurt asked.
“Take his compound by force,” Gregorovich said, and then pointed to a hard-shell suitcase strapped to the back of one snowmobile and marked with the international symbol for radiation. “And then detonate it.”
“Is that what I think it is?” Hayley asked.
“Afraid so,” Kurt said.
She looked greener with each passing second. Kurt figured that sharing a cabin with a nuclear weapon was not going to help her fear of flying. On the other hand, like the Russian assassin he’d now partnered with, Kurt was glad to have a weapon aboard that would leave no doubt.
* * *
News reaching Washington in the dead of night was seldom good. Dirk Pitt was alone in his office as the clock neared midnight when the latest blow hit.
“… so far, we’ve located eight bodies in the wreckage,” Paul Trout?
?s voice said from the speakerphone. The signal was scratchy and distorted from the continuing solar activity. “Almost all of them trapped at or near their posts. Considering the size of the hull breach, it seems like those belowdecks didn’t have a chance.”
Pitt rubbed his temples. “Can you tell what caused the breach?”
“The plating is twisted and badly deformed,” Paul said. “But we’ve found no burn marks or signs of explosive impact. It does seem like the hull was bent outward in places. But I can’t give you a definitive answer.”
Pitt was back to square one. He’d hoped to find evidence of a missile or torpedo attack, even an internal explosion if they could prove the presence of explosives. Something that would have told him Ms. Anderson’s sensor array was not at fault. Without it, he couldn’t order the Gemini to power up their system and risk the same fate.
“We’ve taken a vote,” Paul volunteered. “Everyone on board is willing to risk using the sensor array if it means we might find the people who did this.”
A thin smile creased Pitt’s face. He was proud of the bravery displayed by the Gemini’s crew. “Too bad NUMA’s not a democracy,” he said. “Keep that thing off until I tell you otherwise.”
“Will do.”
“Report in immediately if you learn anything new,” Pitt said.
“It’s the middle of the night back there.”
“We have seventeen hours until the clock hits zero,” Pitt said. “No one here is going home before then.”
“Understood,” Paul replied.
