She shook her head. “I think the guy running this show, Kretek, would be willing to risk everything at this point but the anthrax. I think he’s operating in bull-in-the-china-shop mode now. He’s going for it.”
“Then so do we. Let’s look at the copter.”
They had to circle wide around the blazing lab hut. As they did so Smith almost tripped over a form half-buried in the snow.
“Ah, hell!”
It was the body of Professor Trowbridge, casually kicked aside out of the camp walkways and frozen solid in an undignified sprawl. Smith was glad the previous night’s snowfall had encrusted the dead man’s face so that he didn’t have to look down into Trowbridge’s accusing eyes.
“I’m sorry, Jon,” Randi spoke quietly, coming to stand beside him. “I kind of made a hash of things here.”
“It’s not your fault. I set up the situation. I let him come with us.”
The final lesson, Sarge.When you command, you don’t just live with your decisions for today, but forever.
“He asked to come, Jon,” she said, looking at the still form, “and it was his call to make. None of us knew what was waiting for us here.”
“I guess that’s true enough.” He glanced at her, a grim half-smile crossing his face. “Does it make you feel any better?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
They moved on.
When they reached the helipad, they found only a single set of tracks leading up to the Long Ranger through the fresh snow. They also found an ugly brick-sized package strapped around one landing gear strut with electrician’s tape. Smith and Smyslov froze when they saw it, but Randi dropped to her knees beside the float, intently examining the charge. “It’s plastique,” she reported after a moment, “and it hasn’t been fused. Let me have a knife, please.”
Smith passed her his bayonet. “They were probably interrupted by the firefight.”
She carefully cut through the tape binding the charge to the helicopter. Standing, she pitched the explosives as far beyond the wind berm as she could. “It stands to reason that if they were going to blow up the Ranger they wouldn’t bother with sabotaging it as well.”
“That’ll be for you and the major to check out.” Smith looked back toward the burning camp. Where in the hell was Val? After she finished her decoy run she was supposed to rejoin. “How long will it take for you to get this ship airworthy?”
Randi frowned and brushed back her parka hood. “It’s been sitting out here cold-soaking for two days. The book says at least two hours for warm-up, prep, and preflight in this kind of environment.”
“The book doesn’t exist on this island.”
“Right. I’ll see what I can do. Major, help me get the tarps and engine covers off.”
Smith twisted the handle on the Long Ranger’s side hatch. Sliding it open, he peered inside the cabin. Everything looked intact and as they had left it, including the big aluminum case of lab equipment they had left strapped to the deck. A fat lot of good that had done them.
He unslung his pack and swung it into the cabin, laying Valentina’s model 70 beside it. The sight of the rifle reminded him again of the weapon’s owner.
She’d been so sure she could pull off an escape and evasion on her own. What if she’d been wrong? Smith felt his guts knot. He didn’t want her to become another of those failed things he’d have to live with.
“Colonel, look!” Smyslov threw aside one of the engine covers and pointed. A small figure had appeared beyond the burning huts, coming around the knoll and running-no, staggering-along the shoreline trail. Smith caught up his own rifle and ran to meet her, Smyslov following a few steps behind.
They intercepted her just short of the huts. “Are you all right?” Smith demanded as Valentina half-collapsed in the curve of his arm.
“Fine,” she gulped and wheezed, bracing her hands against her knees. “Just winded…but we have…complications, Jon…Complications.”
“What’s happening?”
She forced herself erect, still panting from her sprint. “Our arranged mutual ambush worked magnificently…almost a draw. I hung back to tidy up and maybe acquire a spare weapon or two…but I was…interrupted…and had to take off.”
“By?”
“The other section of the Spetsnaz force. There were only six taken out in the firefight with the smugglers. Four more are coming in behind me, and I strongly suspect they are not pleased with current events.”
“Did they spot you?” Smith demanded.
“Not sure. Maybe.”
“How long do we have?”
“They stopped to check their dead. I think we’ve got about ten minutes.”
“Christ! Now they show up!” Smith paused to rub his aching eyes, wondering if he’d ever not be tired again. “All right. Major, you and Randi have got to get that helicopter ready to fly. Val, your rifle’s back at the Ranger. I want you to cover the helipad approaches from there. I’ll stay here and put the trail under fire.”
Valentina swiped a sweat-damp lock of hair back from her brow. “Jon, these fellows likely know the old German infantry trick of maintaining the unit firebase. The survivors will swap out their assault rifles for the squad automatic weapons taken from their dead. They may have lost seventy percent of their platoon manpower, but they’ll still possess eighty percent of their firepower.”
“That’s why I’d like that helicopter ready before they get here.”
“Jon, we are talking about three bloody machine guns!”
“That’s a given, Val. Get going!”
“Colonel,” Smyslov said slowly. “May I suggest an alternative?”
“I’ll be happy to consider one, Major.”
“Let me go out to meet them. Let me order them to stand down.”
Smith’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you didn’t have the authority for that.”
“I don’t, but I can try. Maybe I can reason with them”-Smyslov shrugged and gave his wry grin-“or maybe just bullshit them. Even if I fail, maybe I can buy you and the ladies enough time to get out of here.”
“Those Spetsnaz might not be too pleased with you at the moment, either, Major.”
The Russian’s face went sober again. “I suspect my entire government is not too pleased with me at the moment, Colonel, but we must stop Kretek from getting that anthrax. And maybe, this way, no more Russian soldiers will have to die.”
Smith hesitated. Now was no time to stop trusting. “Val, you help Randi with the helicopter. I’ll fall back and join you when you start engines. If I do not rejoin by the time you’re ready to take off, take off anyway. That’s an order! Your absolute priority will be to report the situation here on Wednesday Island. After that, act as you see fit. Go!”
She gave him a beseeching look but strangled down her protest. Obediently she dashed off toward the helipad.
Smith turned back to Smyslov. “Good luck, Major. I hope you’re a silver-tongued devil today.”
“I shall try to be, sir.” He drew Smith’s sidearm from his pocket and handed it back. “If I am not, you may have more use for this than I.”
Smyslov took a step back and came to attention, his European-style heel click muffled by the snow as his hand whipped up in a precise salute. “Colonel Smith, may I say it has been a privilege serving under your command.”
Smith’s rigid fingertips touched his brow in the response. “Anytime, anywhere, Major. The privilege has been mine.”
Randi fought back a momentary surge of dizziness as she leaned into the engine compartment. The mental haze of the previous night threatened a return, and she fought to stay focused on tightening the knobs of the battery reconnects.
On the voyage north she had come to know this Long Ranger intimately, and she knew that it had been “polarized” by its leasing company to the best extent possible. All the gaskets and seals were cold-resistant plastics and composites. The lubricants were arctic environment multiviscosity synthetics. The fuel had been heavily laced with an antijelling agent, and the batteries were all ultraheavy-duty, deep-charge gel packs, the best on the market.