“You already sent someone?” she asked.
Hammerson sat watching her for a few seconds. “Yes, we did. Someone who’s been there before, someone unique, someone with extraordinary abilities, who could get there, and defend our position against everything and anything.” He half turned away as he spoke, but was aware of her getting slowly to her feet.
He went on. “One man in, one man out — just one.” He turned to her. “Alex Hunter.”
Aimee was on her feet, but her legs looked about to buckle. Her mouth worked, but no words came for several seconds.
“Dead… dead…” She shook her head. “He’s dead. You told me, he’s dead.”
Hammerson’s eyes were rock steady. “Yes, and for all intents and purposes, he was.” He lifted her glass of water, and walked towards her holding it out. “He should have been dead. His body was riddled with the Hades Bug you guys encountered in South America. But either the Israelis’ medical technology, or his own system, managed to regenerate his body.” He shrugged. “When he woke up, he didn’t even know who he was.”
Aimee’s hand flashed out fast and slapped his face. He took it and turned back to look at her. She slapped him again, and again, slapping and punching him now. He closed his eyes, took it all, letting her fury burn itself out on his flesh. She screamed her anger and frustration, until his intercom buzzed, and a concerned voice cut through Aimee’s fury.
“Everything okay, sir?”
He nodded. “We’re all fine in here, Margie.”
Aimee stood with shoulders hunched, fists balled and breathing hard. Her eyes were wet.
“You bastard, you let me think he was dead… all those years.” She wiped her face with a forearm. “Does he know about me… about Joshua?”
Hammerson pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped some blood from his lips. He still held her glass in his hand, now only a third full, most of its contents on the floor. He handed it to her.
She took it, glaring at him. “And you brought me in here to tell me that now?”
“No, Aimee.” He motioned to her chair. “Please sit down.”
“I’m fine.” She remained standing, staring, her ice-blue eyes now red rimmed.
“I brought you here to tell you that we’ve lost contact with him. We need to initiate Plan B — send in another team. And speed is still our best hope of success.” He held her gaze. “But this time we need someone who can talk to the Chinese, to their scientists — Zhang Li or Dr. Shenjung Xing — in a way they’ll understand and accept. A type of scientific negotiator, if you like. We need experience, and a cool head, and most of all we need a guide.” He smiled, he hoped, warmly. “There’s only one person I know of who has all those qualifications, Aimee. And that’s you.”
Aimee’s mouth hung open, and Hammerson continued.
“We need to show them, and explain to them, in their own language, that what’s down there is not worth risking their lives over. Pull ’em back before it’s too late.” He smiled and nodded. “Save them from themselves. A quick in and out.”
Her mouth snapped shut, lips clamped tight for several seconds. “Oh, no way, Jack. No fucking way in this world. I’m not insane.”
He hated himself for the manipulation. “I know you want to keep Joshua safe.” He looked into her eyes. “So do I. But, if there is a war between superpowers, just who is going to be safe… anywhere?”
“You son of a bitch.” She turned, her eyes watering. “My son…”
“He will be safe. You’ll be keeping him safe.” He kept watching her. “Save him please, Aimee, guide the team down, find that submarine… and maybe, Alex.”
She finally sank into the chair. “He’s still alive down there.”
Hammerson turned away. “Yes.”
She slumped, her face in her hands. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.” She rubbed her face hard, and when she looked up, she was drained of color.
Hammerson came over and put a hand on her shoulder. “We learned a lot from last time. This time we’ll be ready.”
“No one can ever be ready for a trip to hell.” She sighed. “You want me to go down there again — down beneath the dark ice.”
“Yes.” Hammerson’s eyes were gun steady. “Today.”
Aimee sat shaking her head, staring into the floor. “You never answered me.” She lifted her eyes. “About whether Alex knows about Joshua.”
There came a knock on the door, and Margie led Joshua into the office. The boy ran to Aimee, who immediately brightened, and he gushed about huge planes, jeeps, soldiers, and the great cheese they had on the macaroni. Suddenly, he stopped, looked into her eyes for a second or two, and then slowly turned to Hammerson.
Jack Hammerson leaned down. “Good to see you, Joshua.”
The boy stared, his eyes uncannily like Alex’s — not just the gray-green color, but the way they seemed to penetrate deep down to the soul.
“You sent him back down there.”
Hammerson momentarily froze, before sitting back down slowly. But the boy’s eyes held his. “Yes, Joshua. I did.”
Aimee sat forward to look at his face. “Who, Joshua? Who do you mean?”
“The man who’s always there, looking after me, guarding me.” He turned to her. “My father.” Joshua stared deep into her eyes, his own unwavering. “And you need to bring him home.”
CHAPTER 21
Aimee crushed her eyes shut as the huge helicopter she rode in descended. Her stomach roiled as a shivery knot of fear coiled tight in her belly, and she dry-swallowed to keep the stinging bile from surging up into her throat.
She held tight to the image of Joshua, his huge gray-green eyes wide with excitement when earlier he’d asked her to bring him something back — a penguin, just a baby one — and then he’d moved on to asking about his dinner, as if she was just popping down to the store. She smiled as she thought about him, but felt tears in the corners of her eyes that immediately froze solid.
The mother in her screamed its rage at her stupidity for allowing herself to be convinced to come back to the ice. “To stop a war,” she whispered, her lips moving but no sound leaving them. How can that not be a good thing for my son, for me, for everyone? she thought, but it wasn’t convincing enough to silence the maternal rage.
She used one bulky forearm to wipe her face and looked along the crowded cabin. Other than her, there were six huge people inside the cold helicopter. The heating had been turned off now to acclimatize the occupants, and from each, clouds of vapor puffed from mouths and nostrils as they grinned and joked. They were like a different species to her. Each was big, but made doubly so by the bulky snowsuits they wore. There was only one person she recognized — Casey Franks. The woman had let her eyes slide to Aimee when they had boarded, and nodded once. All HAWCS then. Aimee was to be the only diplomat; they were the muscle.
Their leader was a tall man with a shaven head and skin the color of dark coffee. Captain Mitch Dempsey never seemed to blink and the way he moved told of immense strength held in check, and a quiet and confident authority. He had caught her looking at him a few hours back, and he’d casually saluted her with a finger, but then ignored her… and then that was it. The HAWCs had been polite but had refused conversation, and after several attempts, she’d lapsed in and out of dozing as best she could in the loud, and now cold, craft.
The helicopter settled onto the packed ice and snow. Immediately, the door was slid open and a blast of icy air rushed in to sting her exposed skin. She buried her face into her collar, her eyes shut as she whispered: I will see Joshua again soon, I will see Joshua again soon…