Frantino nodded and slipped out through the doorway.
Beckam’s expression hardened. He knelt and, using the codes that Frantino had scribbled on the pad, entered the arming codes back into the first canister.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked, alarmed.
“I’m still a United States Navy SEAL, and although misguided in its execution, Mr. Fischer’s plan was essentially the correct one.” He looked up at Jack. “We have no idea what remains in the lab that could be converted into weaponry by the Russians.” He nodded toward the ceiling. “They’ve hardly touched the interior of this place. We’ve got no idea what else is buried under that ice. If your theory is right about extraterrestrials, there could be all kinds of nasty things buried in the ice.”
“This was a science lab, not a military platform. Think of the power systems that continued to operate for nearly 800 years.”
“It creates an entirely new set of problems,” said Beckam. “This technology wasn’t meant for us, Jack. it’s like one of those philosophical questions we used to argue about back in school.” He nodded toward the Hafnium warheads. “Imagine if Hitler had ten of these in, let’s say, 1935. We’d all be speaking German today. If anything remained of the United States at all. The technologies found in this lab could create that exact imbalance in power. While Fischer’s a major prick, I’d much rather whatever came out of this nightmare be on our side.”
“Think they’d trade Leah and the cliff dwellers for one of these warheads?” Jack asked suddenly.
“Would you trade a million lives for Leah?”
“No,” Jack conceded.
“I think that answers your question.” Beckam smiled. “A weapon of terror is no good if you don’t intend to use it.”
Frantino’s voice echoed from above throughout the structure. “Skipper! Show time! We got chutes!”
Jack watched as Beckam finished entering the codes into the first warhead. The menu prompted him to enter time-to-detonation. Jack was shocked by the simplicity of the device, once you had the arming codes.
“Thirty minutes, Mr. Hobson. That’s how long you and your friends have to get the B-29 off the ice. We’ll be able to hold off the Russians thirty minutes, but I won’t guarantee more.” He tore up the notepad containing the codes and tossed the pieces into the debris. Then he glanced at Jack. “Twenty-nine minutes — I don’t think you want to spend it standing here.”
“Were not leaving without you and your men…”
“You can’t have it both ways, Jack. If we make a run for the B-29, the Russians will shoot it down before we got airborne. The only way you get off the ice, and we make sure this place goes up, is if we’re able to pin them down for a while.”
Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That’s a suicide mission.”
Beckam simply stared at Jack. “The Russians will have orders to make for the structure so they can secure it. If these bombs malfunction, you can bet that the next thing you’ll see is the gloves coming off and twenty US nuclear-tipped cruise missiles headed for the valley. Then it’s all going to a hell in a hand basket when the Russians launch on Washington.” Beckam sighed, shaking his head. “I’d hoped that was the last I’d ever see of these weapons.” He glanced up. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Jack nodded, and they both sprinted through the doors and into the bottom of the crevasse.
“Marko, get us out of here!” Jack shouted toward the surface.
Jack Hobson and Gus Beckam climbed into the basket, closed the gate, and waited for what seemed like an eternity for Marko to run fifty meters to the snowcat and engage the remote control.
When it reached the surface, Marko slid the steel gate toward the basket and Beckam locked it down as the sound of small arms automatic gunfire echoed off Thor’s Hammer in raucous waves.
Beckam shook Jack’s hand firmly “You’d have made a hell of a Navy SEAL.”
Jack opened his mouth to respond, but Beckam held up his hand.
“I’d have been tempted to take the warheads. She’s a hell of a woman.” Beckam’s expression darkened. “If you ever bump into Fischer, you make sure and give him my regards.”
Beckam climbed aboard the snow machine. He started it and threw a rooster tail of snow and ice when he hammered the throttle.
Jack sprinted toward the snowcat and hopped up on the cab. “Come on, Marko. We’re getting out of here.”
“What about the basket?” Marko asked. “It’s still connected to the snowcat.”
“Were gonna back up, yank the tripod over and drag it to solid ice. Then I’m going to disconnect the basket, and we are making a bee line for the Las Tortugas.
Jack suddenly stopped. His eyes narrowed. “One sec.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m going back down into the crevasse,” Jack said.
“What?” Marko’s eyes opened wide and he pointed down-valley. “They’re shooting, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Marko ran after him, shouting. “Wait! What can be down there that’s worth anything to us?”
Jack jumped into the basket, and Marko pulled the bridge clear. “Once I’m at the bottom, you give me five minutes and then lift the basket.”
The basket descended quickly into the icy gloom. When it hit the bottom, Jack stepped clear, ducked into the opening, and ran through the debris into the second chamber.
He scrambled to the debris pile where Beckam had torn up the codes. Jack dropped to his knees and began gathering the pieces of paper. With shaking hands, he assembled the pieces on the smooth floor, until he had the arming and disarming codes staring back at him in Beckam’s precise handwriting.
“Okay, let’s hope I’ve got this right.”
He repeated what he’d seen Beckam do, using entering the codes into the rectangular keypad of the first canister after triple-checking that the serial number matched. He held his breath until the LED screen blinked three times. The he entered the right code and sequence. Now it was unarmed.
The number two canister remained armed, the LED blinking as it counted down the seconds to detonation.
Jack hastily gathered up the pieces of paper and jammed them into an inside pocket in his parka, making sure to zip it tight.
Beckam was right. Scary things did come on small packages. Now Jack had a plan to get Leah back alive. If it required using two of these weapons-from-hell, so be it.
He rolled the warhead to the basket and set it down inside. He returned for the third Hafnium warhead and loaded it into the basket.
Jack shouted up toward surface and had just closed the gate when the lift cable snapped tight and the basket jumped off the ice, banging into the frozen walls as Marko brought it up faster than it was designed to move.
When it reached the surface, Marko shoved the aluminum bridge out so Jack could secure it to the basket.
“What are you doing with those?”
“I don’t have time to explain,” Jack said. “Just set the bridge so we can get the hell out of here.”
Marko secured the aluminum bridge to solid ice, and Jack walked carefully across, balancing the canisters with one arm held out over the abyss. “Take it to the snowcat,” he ordered. Marko nodded, his eyes open wide with fear and his body pumped full of adrenalin.
Marko lifted the device clear of the ice and sprinted with it toward the snowcat.
The sound of gunfire had increased and included the loud boom of an occasional mortar shell, as the SEALs attempted to keep the Russian commandos pinned down a thousand meters away from the Las Tortugas. Jack picked up the second warhead and carried it toward the snowcat.