Chapter 53
After the briefest of discussions, everyone agreed that Rand was a terrible candidate to join the landing party. He was clumsy, nervous, and pathologically incapable of being quiet for any significant stretch of time.
Pru, on the other hand, had the focus of a soldier, knew her weapons well, and was determined to make sure Kurt and Joe returned safely so they could help free her from the gilded cage she and Rand had built on the wrong side of the law.
With that settled they opened the hatch and emerged into the tropical night air.
Leaving the submarine meant stripping down, putting their gear and clothes into plastic bags, and swimming two hundred yards to a small beach, where the sediment had gathered. Pru led the way in the same black bathing suit she’d been wearing when Kurt and Joe had crashed the beach.
Joe followed, stripped down to his shorts and towing his gear behind him.
Kurt remained behind for a moment, warning Rand not to do anything rash. “Just sit tight and read a book. We’ll be back before daylight.”
“Just take care of Pru,” Rand said. “She’s terribly earnest. She’ll try to prove how worthy she is to you.”
It was the first time Kurt had heard real emotion out of Rand.
“All she has to do is get us to the air base and keep us from walking into a trap. Once I confirm that Ahab is on the island we’ll come back so I can alert our government.
If all goes well, he’ll be scooped up in twenty-four hours and you guys will be heroes worthy of a new life. ”
Rand sighed. “Sounds great,” he said, “but how often does everything go well?”
Kurt offered a knowing grin. “All I can tell you is we’re due.”
He made his way forward to the sloping prow of the submarine, avoiding the slippery spots of algae and the sharp barnacles. At the far end, he slipped quietly into the water and swam off.
Even though it was November, the tropical water in the protected cove was warm and silky.
It felt like a bath in comparison to the frigid dip Kurt had taken in the Arctic north of Norway.
He moved smoothly and calmly, feeling positively weightless without the bulky drysuit, heavy tanks, and thruster pod.
If it wasn’t for the dangerous reconnaissance mission ahead of them, he could have flipped over onto his back, closed his eyes, and drifted peacefully.
His ancestors might have been Vikings, but he couldn’t help but think the Polynesians had picked a better set of latitudes to inhabit.
Shaking the thought away, he refocused on the mission at hand.
Nearing the beach, he found Joe and Pru toweling off underneath a small overhang of a rocky bluff.
He swam over to the sheltered spot, reeled in the plastic bag containing his things, and carried it with him as he left the water.
In a minute or so, the three of them were dressed in loose black fatigues and hiking boots.
Laces were tightened. Weapons were checked. Suppressors were screwed into the barrels.
Pru slung the strap of her weapon over her shoulder and slid it around behind her.
“The road is off that way,” she said, pointing to a barely visible trail worn by foot traffic and wheeled vehicles.
“I don’t know what sort of surveillance gear Ahab might have in place, but I figure it’s best if we avoid the beaten path and go overland.
” She nodded toward the craggy face of the bluff. “Think you two can keep up?”
“Only one way to find out,” Kurt said.
She took them to a gap in the rocks and went up, climbing with an athletic ease and flexibility that was hard to match. Kurt and Joe followed, moving a bit slower. Reaching the top, they stood sixty feet above the water.
As Kurt surveyed the route ahead, Joe tapped him on the shoulder, pointing back down the channel. They could just make out the top of the submarine. It grew smaller as they watched, disappearing completely as Rand took it back down to periscope depth.
“Hope he sticks around,” Joe said.
Kurt doubted Rand would leave his sister, and honestly didn’t think he knew how to pilot the sub. “I just hope he’s awake when we get back and not snoring obliviously in the depths.”
“We can always swim down to the sub and bang on the hull to get his attention,” Joe suggested. “A solid rock always makes for a good door knocker.”
Kurt imagined Rand waking suddenly to a visitor twenty feet below the surface. He turned to Pru. “Which way?”
She pointed to the north and took off across the rocky terrain, swinging wide to stay clear of the road and hugging the broken terrain. As they came out onto flatter ground, they found a mix of scrub brush and scraggly vegetation. It offered a modicum of cover.
They moved between the hardy bushes in spurts, watching for trouble and keeping low. Before long they’d crept right up to the edge of the airfield.
Kurt took in the view through unaided eyes. Off to one side, he could see the outline of the control tower against the dark sky. An administrative building was attached to its side. Dispersed around the field were three large hangars, designed to accommodate B-52 bombers.
Kurt noticed Joe looking through a night vision scope. “See anything interesting?”
“There’s light coming from the gap beneath the hangar doors,” Joe said. “The building connected to the tower isn’t fully dark, either. They probably have curtains up or the windows painted over, but they’re leaking enough illumination to pick it up.”
As Joe spoke, the silence was broken by the rumble of an old diesel engine starting up.
Kurt dropped to the ground. Joe and Pru did likewise.
Off to their left, a narrow band of warm light spread across the apron. Moments later a heavy truck rumbled out from behind one of the hangars. Its partially hooded headlights casting a yellow glow.
The big truck labored trying to pick up speed. With a reverberating clunk it shifted gears, heading toward a second hangar off to their right.
“Fuel truck,” Joe said, recognizing the long cylindrical tank on the back of the vehicle.
“Fully loaded based on the lack of acceleration,” Kurt added.
It lumbered across the ramp, followed by a couple of men in a golf cart.
A wedge-shaped tug like those seen at any major airport came in from the other direction.
A second golf cart carrying a group of men came across the field from the control tower.
It headed toward the nearest hangar. The doors opened slightly, and the cart slipped inside.
“Didn’t expect so much late-night activity,” Kurt said.
“Something’s brewing,” Joe said. “Maybe they’re shipping out now that they have the laser.”
“Or getting ready to use it,” Kurt said. “Either way we need to get inside that hangar and find out what they’re up to.”
Joe turned the scope toward the aging metal construction. The fuel truck and the golf cart had taken up positions outside the main doors, which opened just enough to let the tug slip inside.
Light spilled out, overwhelming the optics of the scope. The image flared and then darkened as the scope adjusted. Joe got a brief look at the interior as the doors closed behind the tug.
“Large aircraft inside,” he said. “Couldn’t tell you what type, though. It does appear to be guarded. I see two men with guns. A third just ducked back inside. We could probably hit them from here if we needed to.”
The guards out front were not exactly on high alert, but it wouldn’t do much good to start a shooting match. Even with the suppressors dampening the sound, Kurt and Joe would just give themselves away once the first man fell.
“Rather not,” Kurt said. “Can you think of some way we might get into the hangar that doesn’t require making a frontal assault?”
“I don’t see any doors on the side or back,” Pru said, looking through her scope.
“Neither do I,” Joe said. “But I’ve got an idea. All we have to do is find just the right spot…” He was scanning the metal wall. With a grin on his face, he lowered his scope. “Follow me.”