As the blast echoed away, Matt swung open the door. It led to the docking lake for the Russian transport sub, an old I series. A moment ago, the room had been half filled with ice, completely encasing the docked conning tower. Matt remembered Vladimir’s final confession. Petkov’s father had scuttled the sub, blowing all ballast, driving the sub up and jamming it in place. Over the years, the room had flooded and frozen.
Matt stared into the room. The pair of grenades had transformed the frozen tomb into a fiery hell. Water bubbled on the surface. Pools of flame dotted the new lake formed around the sub. The smell of phosphor and steam rolled out.
As Matt studied the chamber, his eyes and face burned. It was still too hot to enter.
“Next time,” Kowalski groused, shielding his face, “let’s try just one grenade.
Despite the residual heat, at least the mound of ice covering the conning tower had melted away. The sub’s hatch was uncovered.
Now if only they could get to it.
Matt checked his watch. Thirteen minutes. With his face sweating, he turned to the others. They didn’t have time to spare. “Everyone inside!”
Washburn splashed into the room first, followed by the biology group. The water was knee-deep. Tom went with them. “Get that hatch open!” Matt called to the Navy pair.
Kowalski and Matt covered the door, keeping their weapons fixed toward the stairs. Despite the thick insulation of the docking bay, everyone had to have heard the grenade explosion.
Matt motioned Jenny. “Get everybody into the sub!”
Jenny nodded, starting across with Bane at her side and Maki in her arms. Beside her, Petkov still spoke into the walkie-talkie, passing the coordinates to the Polar Sentinel.
Jenny called back to him: “Matt!” He heard the distress in her voice and turned. “The water’s getting deeper! It’s filling up!”
She was right. The level had risen to her thighs. Suddenly a geyser of water shot up from the half-frozen lake, exploding up with a soft whoosh.
“Damn it,” Matt swore, understanding what was happening. The Russian incendiaries had been too good. They had melted spots down to the open ocean, weakened others. The outside water pressure, held back by thick ice, was breaking through. Another geyser erupted. Water flooded into the room.
Jenny and the admiral stood halfway across the burning lake. The level had already climbed waist-high.
“Hurry,” she called back to him.
Gunfire erupted at Matt’s side. Kowalski had his rifle raised to his cheek, the barrel smoking. “They’re coming after us!” he hissed.
No surprise there.
Matt retreated a step with Kowalski.
Behind them, Washburn and Tom had gotten the sub’s hatch open. The biology group was already clambering down inside. The sub was dead, defunct. Their only hope of survival was to hole up in the old vessel, trusting its thick hide to insulate them as the ice shattered from the device’s shock wave. The chance of survival was slim, but Matt still had a stubborn streak.
Until he was dead, he’d keep fighting.
A metallic pinging drew his full attention back to the outer corridor. A grenade bounced down the stairwell.
“Crap!” Kowalski yelled. He reached out, grabbed the hatch handle, and yanked the door shut. “Jump!”
Matt leaped to one side, Kowalski to the other.
The grenade blew the door off its hinges. The bay’s hatch flew up, hit the sea cave’s ice ceiling, and rebounded into the water with a crash.
Matt scrambled away from the open door.
Kowalski waved an arm, firing with the other. “Everybody! Inside!”
Matt trudged across the rapidly flooding chamber, half dog-paddling, half kicking. Kowalski retreated with him.
Jenny and the admiral had almost reached the sub. Bane was already being hauled up and in by Tom and Washburn.
Then a geyser blew, throwing Jenny and Petkov apart.
Jenny landed in the water, cradling the boy. She came up sputtering. Maki wailed.
The admiral slogged toward her.
Then a large white hummock surfaced between them. At first Matt thought it was a chunk of ice. Then it thrashed and vanished under the dark water. Everyone knew what it was, freezing in place in terror.
A grendel.
The predator must have slipped through the opening water channels, coming to search the new territory.
Jenny clutched Maki higher in her arms.
Matt stared around. There was no way of knowing where the beast was. They feared moving, attracting it. But it was also death to stay where they were.
Matt glanced to his watch. Twelve minutes.
He stared back out. Across the deepening lake, the water remained dark and still. The grendel could be anywhere, lurking in wait.
Fearing to attract it, they dared not move.
Perry studied the computer navigation and mapping. “Are you certain those are the coordinates of the closest amplifier?” he asked the ensign.
“Yes, sir.”
Damn. He recalculated in his head what the computers confirmed. He checked his watch, a Rolex Submariner, wishing for once that it weren’t so accurate. Twelve minutes…
They’d never make it. Even at their top-rated speed of fifty-two knots, they’d barely reach one of the Polaris amplifiers, not the necessary two. At their current speed, the entire sub vibrated as the nuclear engines generated steam at ten percent above design pressure. There was no need to run silent now. It was a brutal race to the finish.
“We need more power,” he said.
“Engineering says—”
“I know what the engineers said,” he snapped, tense. He would risk the entire boat if they pushed her any harder. There were limits that carbon plate and titanium could withstand. And he didn’t have the time to surface and get instructions from Admiral Reynolds. The decision was his.
“Chief, tell engineering we need to press the engines another ten percent.”
“Aye, sir.” His orders were relayed.
After a few more moments, the shuddering in the boat set clipboards and pens to rattling. It felt as if they were riding over train tracks.
Everyone sat tensely at their stations.
Perry climbed the periscope stand and paced its length. Earlier he had consulted with Amanda. As an expert in ice dynamics, she had confirmed at least the theory behind the Polaris Array. Such a global threat was possible.
The sub’s speed was called out as it climbed. “Sixty knots, sir.”
He glanced to the ensign at the map table. The young officer shook his head. “Still ten miles out from the first set of coordinates.”
He had to push the boat harder.
“Get me engineering,” he ordered.
Matt stood in water up to his armpits. Pools of flaming oil lit the room but failed to reveal the grendel hidden in the dark waters around them. Occasional ripples marked its passage as it stalked among them.
They were trapped as time pressed down on them.
Ten minutes.
They were doomed if they fled, doomed if they stayed.
A voice suddenly called from beyond the smoky, blasted doorway. “Don’t move!”
“Great,” Kowalski growled. “Just great.”
“We have you covered!” Craig yelled. “Any aggression and we’ll start shooting.”
Emphasizing this threat, razor-sharp lines of laser sights crisscrossed the hazy room and settled on their chests. “Don’t move,” Craig repeated.