“What—?”
Craig shook his head, his face going unusually hard. He pulled the drawstring on his parka’s hood and pressed it to his ear, then lifted the wind collar of his coat and pressed it against his throat.
Amanda watched his lips.
“Delta One, this is Osprey. Can you read me?”
“Delta One, respond,” Craig repeated more urgently.
He listened for any response. The miniature UHF transmitter in the lining of his parka was efficient at bursting out strong signals, capable of penetrating ice. Yet it still required a special receiving dish pointed at his exact coordinates to pick up the signal. The radio dish was established at the Delta team’s rendezvous camp about forty miles from here. The unit had been tracking him since he flew in last night.
And while it took only a whisper to communicate out to the Delta team under his command, the radio’s reception was a problem. The anodized thread woven throughout the parka’s stitching was a poor receiving antenna through so much ice. He needed to get out of this frozen hole to clear his communication.
Still, faint words finally reached him, cutting in and out. “Delta…receiving.”
“What is your status?”
“The target…sunk. Omega secured. Awaiting further orders.”
Craig allowed himself a surge of satisfaction. The Drakon had been wiped off the chessboard. Perfect. He pressed the throat mike tighter. “Delta One, the security of the football is compromised. Extraction complicated by Russian presence. Any direct hostile action on your part could result in a defensive reaction to destroy the data along with the station. I will attempt to get clear of the ice station. I will radio for evacuation when clear. Only move on my order.”
Static answered him, then a scatter of words: “…complication…two helicopters down…men on the ground…only one bird still flying.”
Shit. Craig had to forgo trying to ascertain what had happened. There was too much interference, but clearly the Russian submarine had put up a fight. “Are your forces still mobile?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Hold Omega secure. Mobilize an evac team only on my all-clear order. I will attempt to reach you.”
“…One…roger that.”
“Osprey out.” Craig yanked the drawstring receiver, and it zipped back into its hood. He found the group, wide-eyed, staring at him.
“Who are you?” Amanda asked.
“My real name is not important. Craig will do for now.”
“Then what are you?”
He tightened his lips. What was the use of subterfuge now? If he was going to secure the data files, he would need the cooperation of everyone here. He answered the question honestly. “I’m CIA, liaison to the Special Forces groups. Currently in temporary command of a Delta Force unit which has retaken Omega.”
“Omega is free?” Amanda asked.
“For the moment.” He waved toward the crack. “But that fact will do us no good here. We need to get out of this station.”
“How?” Dr. Ogden asked, standing nearby.
Craig waved to the crack in the wall. “They somehow got in here. We’ll get out the same way.”
“But the grendels…?” Magdalene asked.
Craig crossed to the crate of empty vodka bottles that he had moved earlier, then eyed the entire party. “To survive, we’re going to have to work together.”
Jenny watched the flames flare up again in the crack, driving her back.
Thank God…
A moment ago, as the fires had temporarily died, she had taken a cautious step closer and peered into the heart of the recent conflagration. A foot away, the ice crack had been melted into a true passage, narrow but passable.
They were almost through.
For a moment, she had feared the others were out of fuel. She had heard anxious whispering — then the hose had reappeared, forcing her back.
Now flames again lapped greedily from the tunnel, boring through the remainder of the ice. They were going to make it. Still, Jenny held her breath. She turned to Tom and Kowalski.
The pair, along with Bane, guarded the other tunnel, watching for the approach of any of the creatures.
Tom caught her eye. “It’s still down there. I keep seeing shadows moving.”
“Bastard’s not about to give up on its meal,” Kowalski concurred.
“It should stay away as long as the fire keeps going,” Jenny said, adding a silent I hope.
“In that case,” Kowalski grumped, “I want a goddamn flamethrower for my next birthday.”
She studied the dark tunnel and tried to understand what lurked out there. She remembered Craig’s name for the beast: grendel. But what was it really? There were myths among her people about whale spirits that left the ocean and dragged off young men and women. She had thought such stories just superstitious tales. Now she wasn’t so sure.
The fury of the blaze had died down again, drawing back her attention. What are they doing over there?
Jenny waited. The fires died to flickers. She stepped forward again, ready to call out. But a dark shape appeared instead, pushing out the narrow crack. It was a figure cloaked in a soggy blanket.
The blanket was tossed back, throwing out light and revealing a tall, slender woman, dressed in a blue thermal unitard. The light came from a mining lantern held in one hand. She lifted it now.
“Amanda…Dr. Reynolds!” Tom exclaimed.
Jenny recognized the name, the head of the Omega Drift Station.
“What are you doing?” Kowalski asked. He waved an arm at the crack. Another figure pushed out of the melted passage. “I thought we were joining you.”
“Change in plans,” she said, staring around at them. “Looks like it’s safer out here than in there.”
To punctuate her statement, a blast of rifle fire echoed from the other side, ringing off metal.
The second figure shook free of the blanket. It was Craig. He helped the next person out of the crack. “Not to sound trite, but the Russians are coming.”
Another four people pushed into the cavern: three men and a woman. They wore matching terrified expressions. Bane sniffed at them, weaving among their legs.
The eldest of the new group spoke to Craig. “The Russians are shooting at the door.”
“Must be trying to keep us pinned there,” Craig said. “More soldiers are probably already on their way through the ducts.”
Kowalski pointed back to the crack. “Considering what’s out here, I’d say let’s go back in there and wave the white flag at the Russians.”
“It’s death either way,” Craig answered with a shake of his head. “And here at least we have the firepower to challenge the grendels.” He pulledan object out of his pocket. It was a glass vodka bottle, full of a dark yellow liquid and stoppered with a scrap of cloth. “We have ten of them. If your flares kept the grendels back, then these homemade Molotovs should, too.”
“What then?” Jenny asked.
“We’re going to get out of here,” Craig said. “Up that ventilation shaft.”
“And I was just getting comfy here,” Kowalski said.
Jenny shook her head at such a foolhardy plan. “But we’ll just freeze to death hiding up there. The blizzard is still blowing fiercely.”
“We’re not going to hide,” Craig said. “We’re going to make for the parked vehicles, then strike out for Omega.”
“But the Russians—”