Jenny kept Bane beside her as she walked with Craig. Ahead, Kowalski lobbed another fiery charge down the long passage. It burst with a shatter of glass and a splash of flames across floor and walls.
The way was clear.
Not a single grendel had been seen in the last twenty minutes.
Dr. Ogden, the biologist, had offered an explanation. “These creatures live in darkness and ice. And while heat and light might attract them, these bombs are sensory overload. Painful and disorienting to the creatures. So they flee.”
So far his assessment had proved valid. They had succeeded in reaching the original marked trail unmolested and unchallenged and were now winding down into the depths of the ice island, heading toward the ventilation shaft. The only disturbance had been when an echoing blast of some distant explosion sounded far above them. The tunnels had rattled, stopping everyone. But with no other repercussions or explosions, they had continued onward.
Behind Jenny, Amanda remained in whispered discussions with the biology team while Tom watched their backs, armed with a pair of Molotovs.
Craig continued his quiet explanation: “I was the advance man, the surgical op for the mission. I was sent in to find the data and secure it. But the Russians must have caught wind of my cover and mission and tried to ambush me in Alaska. If it hadn’t been for Matt, they would’ve succeeded.”
“You could have told us.”
Craig sighed. “I was under strict orders. A need-to-know basis only. This comes from the highest positions of power. Especially after the attack on Prudhoe Bay. The stakes were too high. I had to get here.”
“All for some possible research into cryogenics.” Jenny tried to picture the tanks with the frozen bodies inside them. It seemed impossible, too monstrous.
Craig shrugged. “I had my orders.”
“But you used us.” She thought back to his discussions and arguments on the Twin Otter after the explosions at Prudhoe Bay. He had manipulated them. “You played us.”
He smiled apologetically. “What can I say? I’m good at what I do.” His smile faded, and he sighed. “I had to use the resources at hand. You were the only means for me to get here under the Russians’ radar. Again I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would get this messy.”
Jenny kept her gaze fixed forward as the group edged past the exploded Molotov. She kept one question to herself. Was this man still playing them?
Craig continued, but now it sounded more like he was speaking to himself. “All we have to do is get clear of the station. Then the Delta team can come in with full forces and secure this place, too. Then it will all be over.”
Jenny nodded. Over…if only it were that easy. She kept one hand on Bane, needing to feel the simple, uncomplicated loyalty at her side. But it was more than that. And she allowed herself to admit it. Bane also was a physical connection back to Matt. Her fingers rubbed into the dog’s ruff, feeling his body heat. Craig had told her about Matt, how he and a group of Navy men had attempted to raid the station’s old weapons locker.
No one knew what happened after that.
Bane leaned against her leg, seeming to sense her fear.
“I see the ventilation shaft!” Kowalski called back.
The group headed after the tall seaman, their pace increasing. Jenny guided Bane past the flames of the exploded Molotov. The heat was stifling, reeking of burned hydrocarbons. The ice melted and ran underfoot, slick and treacherous. Streams of fire traced channels across the floor.
Once they were past, the way grew dark again. Kowalski led, the lantern raised above his head.
Ahead a black chute opened on the left wall. The end of the ventilation shaft.
The group gathered in front of it. Jenny pushed forward. From here, it was up to her. The tunnel was too steep to climb with just boots and hands. Tom handed her an ice ax that they had found in the sea-gate control room. She checked the tool’s balance, weight, and most importantly, its sharp edge.
Dr. Reynolds sat on the floor and unbuckled her ice crampons, taking them off. “I should be the one doing this,” the woman said.
“They fit me, too,” Jenny argued. “And I’ve been ice climbing many times in Alaska.” She left unsaid what had already been discussed. The crampons were too small for any of the men, and Amanda’s deafness was a handicap if she got into any trouble in the shaft.
Dr. Reynolds passed her the steel crampons.
Jenny quickly snugged them to her boots. The spiked tips and soles would allow her to scale the shaft. The ice ax was both to aid in this and to protect her.
Once she was outfitted, Tom passed her two of the remaining Molotovs. “I dropped the rope right near the entrance when we were…were attacked. If you anchor it to the grate above, it should just about reach down here.”
Jenny nodded, shoving the firebombs in the pocket of her parka. “No problem. Keep a watch on Bane. The grendels have him wired. Don’t let him run off.”
“I’ll make sure he stays, and I’ll follow behind him up the shaft.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
Kowalski bent a knee and offered a hand to help her up. She climbed him like a ladder, ducking into the shaft and pulling up her feet to kick in with her crampons. They dug deep, the sharp points well maintained.
“Be careful,” Kowalski said.
She had no voice to reassure him or herself. She set off up the shaft, practicing what her father had taught her long ago while glacier hiking and climbing: Keep two points of contact at all times.
With both feet spiked in place, she reached up with the ice ax and jammed it tight. Once it was secure, she moved one leg up, kicked in, then brought the other up.
It was slow going. Slow is safe, her father’s old words whispered in her ear.
Working up the shaft, one step at a time, she allowed a small measure of relief to buoy her at the thought of her father. At least he’s safe. Commander Sewell promised to look after him, and now the Delta units have arrived.
All she had to do was reach them.
But what about Matt?
Her left foot slipped out of its plant, gouging ice. She smacked to her belly on the ice. All her weight was carried on the ice ax until she was able to resecure her feet. Once planted, she still took a moment to suck in large gulps of cold air.
Two points of contact — at all times.
She shoved aside her fears for Matt. It did her no good. She had to focus, to survive. After that, she could worry. This thought raised an unbidden smile. Matt had once said she could worry a hole through plate steel.
Wishing for a tenth of Matt’s composure now, she planted her ax farther up the ventilation shaft and continued onward. Ahead the bend in the shaft appeared. Almost to the top. She rounded the corner and spotted the glare of daylight at the end of the shaft. It was open, clear.
With her goal in sight, she hurried upward — but not so fast as to be careless. The two men in her life whispered in her ears.
Slow is safe.
Don’t worry.
And lastly, words reached out of her past, from a place deep and locked away. She remembered soft lips brushing her neck, warm breath on her nape, words husky with ardor: I love you…I love you so much, Jen.
She held these words to her heart and spoke aloud, remembering what had been forgotten and knowing it to be true. “I love you, too, Matt.”
Disguised in the Russian parka, Matt pushed out the galley doors and entered the main station. Though the level remained darkened, he kept one arm raised, shielding his face, holding the furred edge of his white hood low over his brow. He carried the AK-47 on one shoulder.