Romanov smiled at Mitchell’s bravado. “That is good news. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on today’s activities.”
“Miss out on what?” asked Mitchell.
“Come now, Mister Mitchell, you wouldn’t want me to tell you, would you? It would positively spoil the surprise for you,” teased Romanov. “Let’s just say that because of your persistent meddling, you have become an integral part of my plan and by the end of today, you will become part of history.”
“Seriously, I haven’t a clue what you’re going on about,” said Mitchell. “Why not just tell me and I’ll promise to look surprised later.”
Romanov waved a finger at Mitchell. “No more questions, Mister Mitchell. I can assure you that you will be truly impressed later, of that I have no doubt.” With that, Romanov walked away, leaving Mitchell to ponder what was going on. Whatever it was, Mitchell knew that it could not be good; he had to find Jen and then together find a way off the ship as fast as they could.
A voice called out, “Ryan, thank God, you’re alive!”
Turning, Mitchell saw Jen push her way past a couple of guards and then run straight towards him. She threw her arms around him and embraced him, never wanting to let go. Her lips reached out and met his.
“What are you doing here?” asked Mitchell, looking down into Jen’s deep brown eyes.
Jen looked over at the helicopter on the helipad. “Romanov told me that we were all leaving right away. We’re flying over to his mining camp over on the island,” said Jen, looking over towards the unwelcoming dark silhouette of the volcano towering over the island.
A feeling of foreboding fell over Mitchell. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, looking into Jen’s eyes. “Something bad is going to happen over there today, and you need to be as far away as possible from it.”
The distinctive sound of an assault rifle being loaded made Mitchell freeze in place. Turning his head, he saw a thug aiming his rifle at Jen.
“In the chopper now,” ordered a blonde-haired thug, pointing at the helicopter.
“I think it’s out of our hands now,” said Jen, trying to smile at their predicament.
Taking a deep breath, Mitchell calmly escorted Jen to the open doors on the side of the helicopter, its engine whining loudly as it warmed up. Two minutes later, the helicopter leapt up into the air and then swung over the deck of the ship, heading towards the island outlined against the gray light of the dawn sky.
35
Dragon’s Fire is a midsized, barren, ice and rock covered island, which from above resembles a giant horseshoe with a long-dormant volcano jutting out to sea in the middle of the landmass. Reaching up almost a kilometer and a half, the volcano’s last recorded eruption was in the fifteenth century, the result being the formation of a large fracture on the eastern edge of the volcano. Because of the cover afforded in its sheltered bay, a thriving fishing and whaling community used the island for several hundred years. The Danes had constructed a tall, circular, stone Martello tower overlooking the bay in order to protect their ships and keep the island safe from the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars. Aside from a few birds that called the island home, not a soul had stepped foot on the island for decades until it was leased to the Romanov Corporation who set up a small mining camp at the base of the volcano, near an old long-abandoned whaling camp.
A recent snowfall covered the island in a thick white blanket. In the dark, three shapes moved cautiously forward along the windswept side of the volcano. In the lead, Nate Jackson dropped to one knee, while he took a good look around them. So far, they had not seen a soul, but that didn’t mean that the people in the mining camp did not patrol the island during the night. Behind him was Sam. In her hands was her M4 carbine and on her back was a stripped down med-kit. She hoped to keep it shut the whole time, but experience had told her to be ready at all times. Pulling up the rear was Cardinal, also carrying an M4; however, strapped across his back was a Barret .50 cal sniper rifle capable of hitting a man at two kilometers in the hands of a good sniper, and Cardinal was among the best.
Yuri, flying barely a meter above the waves, had flown a long and circuitous route to the island, dropping them off just after two in the morning on the far side of the island. Hoping to avoid detection by the Imperator’s radar, Yuri headed back out over the Atlantic. First flying east and then north to a small fishing community on the southern shore of Iceland, he and Fahimah now anxiously waited for a signal from Jackson to return to the island to pick everyone up. Mrs. March had remained in the safe house in Reykjavik, awaiting word of the mission’s fate. Sitting alone, she knew it would be the longest day of her life.
Crawling forward on his stomach, Jackson crept along until he reached a rocky outcropping looking down into Romanov’s mining camp. His winter white uniform easily blended in with the frozen terrain. Carefully, bringing up his thermal imaging binoculars, Jackson swept the darkened camp. He could see an electrified fence running the entire perimeter of the camp. Looking like bright glowing spirits against a cold dark background, Jackson watched two men with guard dogs as they walked along the fence, chatting away as they strolled along, not paying any attention to the world outside of the camp.
Jackson smiled; he loved amateurs.
Looking back towards the center of the camp, Jackson saw several prefabricated office buildings, with a few snow-covered all-terrain vehicles parked in the open. A dirt road from the camp meandered up to a darkened tunnel dug into the side of the rocky volcano. A couple of dump trucks and a bulldozer rounded out all that Jackson could see from his vantage point. Calling Sam and Cardinal forward, Jackson quickly oriented them to the ground.
Without any change in signal from Mitchell, Jackson was still planning to try to rescue him and Jen from the Imperator later that day. Seeing that the Martello tower had a commanding of the mining camp as well as an unobstructed view of Romanov’s ship, Jackson led his small team back off the ridgeline and down into the low ground. Moving along as quickly as they could before the sun began to creep up on the horizon, they made their way over to the old tower. Stopping at the base of the fortification, Jackson could see that it in its time it would have been an imposing defensive position. It stood over a dozen meters high and was ten meters in circumference, with walls that looked about three meters thick. Popping his head inside an opening where a wooden door had once stood, Jackson took a quick look around. The ground floor was empty. He could imagine at one time that the tower’s supplies were stored there. A set of stone stairs led up. With a nod, he led Sam and Cardinal to the second floor, which surprisingly still had several wooden tables sitting there, as if expecting the soldiers to return and have their breakfast meal. Sam smiled when she saw an old brass cannon still sitting there, aimed out over the bay. Looking around, they saw another set of stairs leading up to the roof. Cardinal carefully made his way up and out onto the open roof, where a wooden roof had once covered the top of the tower. As expected, Cardinal could see for kilometers in any direction. With a smile on his face, he knew this would do just nicely.
Deciding that they would rest there for the day, Jackson checked in with Fahimah and told her what they were planning. With a wish of good luck, Fahimah told Jackson that she would contact O’Reilly and pass on what was going on. Now all they could do was get as comfortable as possible and wait for dark.