Marko slammed the axe into the ice and pulled himself up. Then he reached up and hammered the other axe into the ice a foot higher. Marko rested for a second and then pulled himself up and punctured the ice, showering the bottom of the crevasse with ice crystals.
They didn’t dare say a word while Marko climbed through the first ten meters. Then Paulson shouted, “You’re looking good! Just keep moving!” A chorus of shouts and cheers followed Marko as he plunged the axe time after time into the vertical wall.
Marko couldn’t ignore the sweat running out of his gloves and down his palms and onto the handle of the axe. It became increasingly difficult to hold on to the slippery steel, even with the straps securing his hands to the axe. As he neared the top of the crevasse, the shouts and cheers got even louder.
Marko gritted his teeth and worked around a ledge, where the ice formed an overhang, and with the last of his strength, he swung the axe over the lip of the crevasse, pulling his fatigued body up, kicking with his knees as he climbed to solid ice.
Exhausted, panting, Marko simply lay on the ice for a moment. Then, remembering the blinking panels on the bombs in the lab, he stood and followed the cable from the pulley across the ice. Thank god. The snowcat was still there.
A quick search revealed a remote control unit that controlled the winch. Marko pushed one of its three buttons. The winch cable snapped taut and the basket slammed into the top of the tripod. Marko reversed the winch, allowing the basket to swing back and forth like a bell in a church tower. Every time the heavy metal basket hit the legs of the tripod, it clanged loud enough to echo off Thor’s Hammer and into the valley.
Nearly tearful with relief, Marko held the second button down and watched as the swinging basket lowered down and out of sight.
CHAPTER 98
Frantino watched the LC-130 Hercules lift off the ski-way, make a sharp turn, and then fly out of sight. He’d been ordered to secure the valley, a near impossibility with only twenty-four SEALs. Instead, he’d set up a perimeter with four teams of six each.
If Russian commandos parachuted into the valley, the best they could hope to do was lay down enough suppressing fire to give the spooks’ Hercules a chance of getting off the ice. Now, with the cargo plane gone, their mission was effectively over, and his only concern was the safe evacuation of the team.
“You think the skipper’s gonna be okay?” asked one of the SEALs.
Frantino nodded. “He just got his bell rung and a few cuts.” He scratched at the three-day beard. “That asshole Fischer said one of their top priorities was to ‘med-evac’ him and the civilians to safety in the Hercules.”
“So when you think we’re getting out of here, Danny?”
An unexpected clang rang through the valley, echoing off sharp canyon walls. Frantino glanced over at his team leader. With the second clang he spun around. “What the fuck now?”
Frantino swept the horizon. He saw nothing moving on the valley floor, so he focused the glasses toward Thor’s Hammer. He panned over the snowcat, the piles of equipment left by the CIA crew, and the steel lift basket hanging from the tripod.
It swung from side to side several times and then abruptly dropped into the crevasse. “What the hell?”
Frantino turned the binoculars back toward the snowcat. Standing in front of the cat with a remote control in hand was clearly one of Paulson’s crew. He could tell by the colorful red parka, which stood out on the ice like a beacon. “It’s one of the civilians!”
“I thought all the civilians were being flown out along with the Skipper.”
“That’s what that puke Fischer said….” Frantino searched the area around the crevasse but spotted only the one civilian. He swept the glasses down toward the Russian camp, where the old B-29 bomber still glistened in the sunlight.
“We’ve got someone moving through the camp,” he said. “I need your shoulder to steady the glasses.”
He steadied the glasses on the SEAL’s shoulders, allowing him a better view of the figure walking in front of the B-29. At this distance, he couldn’t identify the man, but the clothing was unmistakable. Then there were the bloody streaks darkening the normally arctic-white combat-issue suit.
That goddamn, lying Fischer….
Frantino spoke into a communicator, ordering the SEAL team closest to the Russian camp to use its snow machine and pick up their skipper.
“Get him and meet me up at the crevasse.” Frantino turned to the closest SEAL. “You’re coming with me. We’re going to find out why we still have people in a hot LZ.”
CHAPTER 99
When the basket cleared the crevasse, everyone aboard let out a loud cheer. Marko pushed the aluminum docking bridge out, and Jack connected and locked it on the basket. One by one, they skittered across the bridge, slapping Marko on the back as they passed.
“We’re getting out of here on the snowcat,” Jack said. “Everyone get inside the cab or pile on top.”
“Looks like we’ve got company, again,” Paulson said. He pointed toward two snow machines, one climbing toward the crevasse and the other still a speck on the valley floor.
“I’m not waiting around,” Jack said.
He sprinted toward the snowcat, pulled at the glass-and-metal door, found the starter button and pushed it. The snowcat struggled to turn over the cold engine.
The first of the two snow machines arrived in a hurry, skidding to a stop in a spray of ice.
Frantino jumped off and shouted, “I want everyone over here.”
One of the SEALs jumped on the snowcat and pointed his weapon. The message was clear; Jack should immediately shut down the snowcat. He swore under his breath, climbed down to the ice, and jogged over to where Frantino had his weapon trained loosely on everyone else.
“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” Frantino said. “You’re supposed to be on the Hercules.”
“Fischer dumped us all in the crevasse.” Jack replied. “Except for Leah.”
“Dr. Andrews?” Frantino shook his head. “Asshole.”
“He also rigged the structure with explosives,” Jack said. “They could be nukes. We don’t know. But they’re certainly high-tech, and no doubt on a timer. We need to get out of here now.”
“Everyone down the slope,” Frantino said. “We’ll hook up with the skipper and find out what the hell’s happening.”
CHAPTER 100
Even from a distance, Jack could see that Beckam’s face was cut up bad and his clothing had been shredded in places by flying shrapnel. Up close, the commander looked significantly worse. Jack winced. “Sorry about that—”
Beckam shrugged it off. “I’d have tried the same myself… if I’d known what a cluster fuck this was.”
“So as far as I understand it,” Jack said, “Stanton Fischer tried to kill us and lied his ass off to you and your men.”
Beckam looked at Frantino, and both men nodded.
Jack and his crew had joined up with Frantino, a second SEAL, and Commander Beckam near the Las Tortugas. The remaining SEALs remained at their perimeter posts around the valley, waiting for the arrival of the Russians.
“So you boys don’t think help’s coming, do you?” asked Paulson.
Beckam shook his head. “We’re all hung out to dry.” He looked over at the Las Tortugas. “Think it’ll fly?”
Paulson turned to his mechanic. “Mac — it’s our only way out. What do you think?”
“The Number Four engine is still blowing oil, and I don’t have a clue how the control cables look.” Ridley spit on the ice and scowled. “It has fuel, at least. We’d have to pump some of the fifty gallon barrels into her just to be sure.”