Espinoza declined. I'm on duty.
Your loss. The director saluted him, then toasted Lee Fong. Congratulations. From this moment, there can be no questioning our rights to this land and the riches off her coast. I've got to be honest with you guys. Ever since we started construction, I've always been afraid our operation would be discovered and we'd be booted out. Well, no more. We are here to stay.
Have you contacted you superiors? Espinoza asked Lee.
Yes, just now. They are most pleased, he beamed. My immediate boss says I will be awarded a medal and that our company will be guaranteed a lifetime of government contracts.
Hold out for a big raise, Laretta told him, pouring more brandy into his glass. Make them know you're worth it.
I might just do that. Oh, I forgot. The ship on the beach.
What about it, Espinoza asked sharply. He'd been suspicious about that boat, and even seeing with his own eyes that she was a derelict didn't allay his concerns.
She's off the beach and starting to float away.
You didn't see any engine smoke?
Oh, no. And she's leaning heavily to one side. I think she will flip over soon.
Espinoza was regretting his moment of earlier charity. He should have let Sergeant Lugones lay some charges and blow her to pieces. It wasn't too late. He could ask the captain of the Guillermo Brown to sink the old scow with a missile, but he could think of no valid reason why the Navy would waste such expensive munitions on his paranoia. With any luck, the storm would either sink her or blow her so far away that he wouldn't have to worry about her presence any longer.
Mr. Laretta, might I have some more of your brandy?
It would be my pleasure, Luis slopped some more into Lee's paper cup.
The Major stood abruptly. Something wasn't right. It wasn't instinct but the cold tickling of premonition that was setting his nerves on edge. The Americans would come. Tonight or tomorrow, when the storm picked up, and they would lay waste to what these two men were so smugly proud of.
Gentlemen, I needn't remind you that until the world formally recognizes the Antarctic Peninsula as sovereign Argentine territory, we are at risk.
Come, come, my dear Major. Laretta had no head for alcohol. He was already slurring his words. There is no harm in celebrating our success.
Maybe so, but I believe you are being a little premature. Get word to your workers that curfew tonight starts in one hour, and there will be no exceptions. My men are going to be on patrol with orders to shoot. Do you understand?
That sobered him up. Laretta nodded. Curfew, one hour. Yes, Major.
Espinoza turned on his heel and left the office. He'd been pushing his soldiers hard since their arrival and tonight he'd push them harder still. By the time he and Raul had them all deployed, there wouldn't be one inch of uncovered space around the oil terminal, and, knowing the American proclivity for coming to the rescue of others, he would double the guard on their captives.
JUAN PULLED THE STRAIGHT RAZOR from his neck and swirled it in the copper basin of his sink. The Oregon's steep list forced him to brace himself with his other hand. He made one more pass, rinsed the blade, and dried it very carefully on the towel. His grandfather had been a barber and had taught him that the secret of keeping a razor sharp was never to put it away wet.
He pressed the plunger to drain the sink and splashed his face with palmfuls of water. He looked himself in the eye in the mirror over the vanity. He wasn't sure what he saw. He was proud of the decision he had made, yet he also thought they should have cut and run and headed for South Africa, where five million a week for the next three weeks was guaranteed for doing nothing more than babysitting a head of state who had no enemies.
He dried his face with a towel and pulled on a T-shirt. They had turned up the heat somewhat, but his arms and chest were covered in goose pimples.
He hopped across to his walk-in closet and selected a leg for the day's mission among the five artificial limbs he owned. They were lined up on the floor like a bunch of left-only cowboy boots. A few minutes later, he was finished dressing and on his way to the moon pool. He knew he should eat something, but his stomach was too knotted.
The underwater operations center was a hive of activity, with teams of technicians working on the Nomad 1000 that had just returned with Trono and his group. Mike reported that the charges were planted and ready to go. His team had been drilling into the underside of the glacier, hanging over the bay and packing the holes with enough explosives to calve off a hundred thousand tons of ice.
Juan keyed in some of the outside cameras at a workstation. The low-light cameras revealed a world gone mad. Swirling snow buffeted the ship from every direction as the wind shifted constantly. The seas heaved up waves that ran high enough to explode across the deck, and when they hit shore they had the power to move hundred-pound rocks back and forth like pebbles. He checked the meteorological display. The temperature was minus twelve, but the windchill brought it down to thirty below.
Eddie Seng and Linc showed up a couple minutes later. Because of the number of passengers they would hopefully be returning to the ship, the raiding party had to be small. The Nomad was designed for ten people, and somehow they were going to shoehorn twenty-one into it.
As before, they wore arctic clothing to resemble the Argentine soldiers, and they'd packed enough extra parkas for the captive scientists into a waterproof bag strapped to the sub. Another similar bag contained the bones of the long-dead Norwegians. Juan still wasn't sure how he was going to make up for disturbing their eternal rest.
Maurice appeared at Cabrillo's side bearing a serving tray. It was three o'clock in the morning, and he looked fresh and impeccably turned out as always. I know you rarely eat before a mission, Captain, but you need to. In these conditions, the body burns calories too fast. I don't know if I ever mentioned, but I deployed with the Royal Navy the last time the Argies became uppity in the South Atlantic. The boys who retook the South Sandwich Islands returned as stiff as Stonehenge.
He pulled off the cover and presented Juan with an omelet stuffed with ham and mushrooms. The aroma seemed to untie the knots in his belly. It also reminded him of something he'd forgotten, and he sent Maurice back to the kitchen on an errand.
The launching went smoothly, and they were soon on their way. The first inkling that something had changed happened when the minisub passed close to the Admiral Guillermo Brown. Juan could hear over the other ambient noise that she had fired up her main engines. The sound and vibration carried through the water and echoed inside the steel pressure hull. It wouldn't alter their plan, but Juan didn't take it as a good omen.
Unlike before, when they had docked near the workboats, this time they surfaced at the far end of the pier, closer to where the prisoners were being held. The storm's fury overwhelmed the sound of the Nomad broaching under the dock.
Linc had the hatch open a moment later. He climbed from view, while Juan struggled into his parka and settled his goggles. The big SEAL came back a moment later.
We got problems.
What's up?
I just scoped the dock using infrared and counted three guards.
On a night like this? Eddie asked.
Exactly because it's a night like this, Juan told him. If I were in Espinoza's shoes, I'd plan for the storm to hide an assault and deploy my forces accordingly.
Juan took the night vision binocs from Linc and did his own survey, lying flat on the pier. He saw the sentries Linc had spotted, and as he scoped the rest of the base he could see more ghostly images moving around. In one minute, he counted no fewer than ten men on duty.