“Clear,” Willis said as he re-emerged into the main room. “Let’s move on.”
Leopov took one last look around, but there was nothing to learn there; nothing to tell her who might have been staying in this place, why they had been there or why they’d left. Maybe it had been used as an outpost for the Russians. It could just as easily have been the home for a few families eking out an existence from whatever they could fish up from beneath the ice. Whichever it was, it didn’t look as if it had been much of a life.
The next three building were the same. In one they found a photograph of a small girl and a pair of handprints in green paint on a piece of paper taped to the wall. It was the first thing she’d seen that was even remotely personal. They found odds and ends of possessions in the other huts, but all had been practical. This showed that there had been someone real here; ordinary people living mundane lives. The revelation only added to the disquiet she felt knowing that they had left behind things that they probably thought precious.
If there had been locks on any of the shacks, none of them had been secured. Each time they were able to push the doors open once they’d overcome the resistance of frozen and rusted hinges. Only one building remained secure; a square structure constructed from concrete blocks. Snow had drifted up against one side of it, partly obscuring the single door. Willis placed a gloved hand on the handle and tried to turn it. It moved a little, but the door wasn’t budging an inch.
“Locked?” Leopov asked. As the words left her lips she half expected a sarcastic reply, but instead he just nodded and stepped back.
“You want me to go and find something to open it?” Shaw asked.
“Naw, man,” Willis said. “I’ve got it covered.”
He pointed his gun at the lock.
Leopov instinctively took a couple of steps back.
She was not particularly fond of guns, no matter how familiar she might have been with them. It was something she had to deal with; something she couldn’t avoid coming into contact with, given her stock in trade, but it didn’t mean that she had to like them. Respect them, yes. Be familiar with handling them, absolutely, but like them? No. By the third shot the wood around the lock on the door was splintered and the handle hung off to the side.
“Back in Detroit we call this an urban skeleton key,” Willis smiled. “It opens just about anything one way or another.”
He pushed the door wide open.
The building had been locked, but that didn’t mean abandoned or occupied. Simply locked. No risks. They were doing this by the book, sweeping the place. One thing was sure though, if anyone waited inside, they now knew they had visitors.
Leopov felt her heart beating in her chest as if it was banging on her ribs in an attempt to force a way out.
She waited outside for a moment as the men went in.
Counting it out until she heard someone calling to her.
“Lieutenant,” the voice said first, then more urgently. “Hey, Leopov!”
It was the first time that anyone had used her name. It wasn’t her first name, but these guys didn’t use first names. It was a landmark moment, but she wasn’t going to relish it. She was still an outsider, even if they knew her name.
But she had a chance to become part of the team, at least for the duration of this mission.
“Coming.” She trusted them to have given the place a thorough sweep and made sure it was clean.
As she entered the first room she heard a voice she did not recognize.
It spoke in Russian.
SEVEN
The sound of gunfire silenced Maddock, Bones and Professor for a moment, but in the long sliding echo that followed they were on their feet and shrugging themselves into their coats and stepping into boots. Maddock’s coat still felt heavy from water, but it was almost dry on the inside; it was the only item of clothing that he hadn’t brought a spare of. He snatched up his gun without slipping on his holster, and stepped outside. There was no way of knowing what lay out there, but they wouldn’t be shooting unless there was a damned good reason for it, like a bunch of Spetsnaz thugs trying to fill their bodies with lead.
“You stay here,” he whispered to Professor, “and hold down the fort. Bones and I will check it out.” Professor grimaced but nodded his acquiescence.
Maddock took a few steps, the chill wind battering his weakened body. He paused and cocked an ear. Sound travelled in a strange way in this place, making it difficult to know which way they should go.
He held Bones back with one straight arm as they moved forward.
If they could identify the problem without alerting anyone else to their presence, that would be a win. If the threat was Spetsnaz, better if they didn’t know there were more men and more guns to deal with than they’d faced so far. Better to be smart than lucky. Always.
Maddock pressed himself tight against the wall of the shack, his Walther at the ready as he reached the corner of the building. He held a finger to his lips, then motioned for Bones to cover the next point. The air echoed with the sound of footsteps moving quickly. They were getting closer by the moment.
Maddock signaled for Bones to hold back.
They had a good position. They were ready for whoever it was. Maddock tensed as a figure barreled around the corner. He recognized the man immediately.
“Nate!” Maddock hissed as Shaw thundered toward them.
“We’ve got something.” The point man sucked on the cold air as he struggled to catch his breath. “This way.”
Maddock called for Professor to join him and Bones. They followed close behind Shaw, Maddock keeping pace despite the ache in his joints. It was getting easier with each stride. It felt good to be moving. He saw the door to the concrete building hanging open and stopped.
“It’s all clear,” Shaw said.
Maddock frowned. “We heard shooting.”
“Willis used a little extra force to open the door. We’d checked all the other buildings and they were clear. This was the only one that was locked. We guessed it had been secured for a reason.”
“And?”
“You’d better see for yourself.” Shaw stepped back and invited Maddock to walk inside.
The interior lay in gloom, contours of shadow picking out the shapes of furniture. Someone was speaking Russian but he couldn’t see anyone.
It took him a second to realize the voice emanated from a radio.
He saw Leopov sitting beside the base unit, listening intently to the words crackling out of the speaker.
“What’s he saying?”
“It’s a distress call.” Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she concentrated on the words. “It’s not live though. It’s being broadcast on a loop.”
“Can we get a fix on it?” Maddock asked.
“I’ll get in touch with the ship,” Professor said. “If they can pick up the signal we might be able trace it back to a location, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. Best hope, we might be able to get hold of someone with access to a satellite. Maybe Big Brother back home can get a fix on it.”
“Assuming it’s the sub,” Maddock said. “We know the Russians will be monitoring the frequency. We just contact the ship, you know the drill. If we try to make contact with home base there’s more chance the Russians will hear. Do what you can. If you can’t, such is life. There’s more than one way.”
“I’m on it,” Professor headed back to the shack they’d set up their base camp in. The Russians would already know exactly where the submarine was and would be heading straight for it, no need for stealth or subterfuge. They weren’t the ones risking an international incident.
“It’s not a standard SOS,” Leopov said. “There’s more to it than that.”