Chapter 34
Kasey cranked up Sky Fire right on schedule.
A message from Langley was waiting. This time Sharpe sat in the snow beside her, both of them huddled against the shell of the shattered fuselage.
The silence was freighted as the message downloaded—both of them had been enduring off-the-charts stress, and a shot at salvation finally seemed at hand.
“Is there any way to tell whether the Chinese got copied in on these messages?” he asked.
“Chen told me it was doubtful, but he couldn’t guarantee it. I included a challenge-response protocol in my original message that only Langley could verify. They’ll send one back. If everything checks, the content of the message is solid. We just can’t be sure who’s seeing it.”
A full page of text filled the screen, and they read it side by side.
“Protocol checks,” she said.
The news was encouraging. A submarine, the USS Cheyenne, was en route and expected to arrive in five and a half hours.
The plan was to surface in the thin ice where Hemisphere Flight 777 had gone down.
All survivors would be taken aboard, the ship’s medical staff would care for the injured, and Sky Fire was to be locked down.
“More than five hours,” Sharpe said, venturing a look into the distance. The visibility had improved, and he could see the distant crash site. The flames on the water had subsided but he could still make out shards of wreckage and discolorations in the snow and ice.
“Yeah, it’s gonna seem like a long time.”
“At least a sub won’t be affected by this weather.”
A second message pinged to the screen. Langley had saved the bad news for last.
Be advised, Chinese icebreaker Snow Dragon 2 is currently 15 NM south your position.
Vessel is stationary and appears to be conducting deepwater survey of main wreckage.
At this time they do not seem aware of your presence.
DO NOTHING TO HIGHLIGHT YOUR POSITION. This includes visual, thermal, and acoustic disruptions.
“Shit!” she said. “The Chinese are already here.”
“Almost. But fifteen miles is a good distance away.”
“We should douse the fire.”
“I don’t think it’s making much difference in the thermal signature of the fuselage.”
“But the smoke from our improvised chimney might be seen.”
He nodded. “Fair point—we should err on the side of caution.”
“How do we explain it to the others?” Other than Chen, no one inside was aware of the full situation. Kasey reckoned that Sharpe would leave it that way, and his response proved her right.
“I’m in charge, so it’s on me. I’ll say it’s a safety issue. Embers drifting into the wrong place.”
A clatter rang out from inside the fuselage. They both knew what it was. Sharpe had asked Nick and Sofia to make more room in the forward cabin, and they’d been tossing empty carry-on bags and debris toward the cluttered aft section.
“I’ll go put a stop to that,” Sharpe said. He got up, walked toward the cabin, and disappeared inside.
Alone in the cold, Kasey stared at the screen and wondered what to do next.
Her first thought related to electronic security.
She had no idea whether a Chinese icebreaker could register emissions from a satellite device, but there was an easy solution.
Satisfied that no more files were inbound from Langley, she shut down Sky Fire. She would check back periodically.
“Five and a half hours,” she said to no one as the screen went blank.
She scanned the horizon carefully but saw no sign of the bear. She stood and grabbed the rifle, which had come with a sling, and shrugged it over her right shoulder. After stowing Sky Fire, she headed for the canopied entrance.
She was almost there when a strange crackling noise caught her attention. It came and went quickly. Not an animal this time. More… tectonic. She paused and listened.
The storm was moderating, its constant shrill lessening.
She heard it again, a distant popping noise. Not gunfire. More like low-frequency fireworks. This time the sound lasted long enough to suggest a direction. She looked toward the wide crater of ice where the jet had struck and immediately saw the source.
A half dozen black poles were rising out of the sea.
That was followed by a massive black fin.
The ice on either side of the fin began to fracture like sheets of glass, jagged shards heaving upward and outward, until a great matte-black tube appeared.
It was a sight Kasey had never seen, but there was no doubt as to what she was looking at.
Her first instinct was elation.
Then she considered the timing, and her euphoria flipped to dread.
She shouldered into the cabin and heard Sharpe saying, “Yeah, a couple of people are trying to sleep, Nick. Let’s not move any more of that stuff for now to keep the racket down.”
Sharpe glanced back and saw Kasey standing at the entrance. Then he registered the look on her face.
He hurried aft. “What’s wrong?” he said in a harsh whisper.
She nodded sharply for him to follow. When they were outside, she pointed into the distance.
All he could say was “It hasn’t been five and a half hours.”
“It hasn’t been ten minutes. Even if Langley composed that message an hour ago, it doesn’t add up. That can’t be the USS Cheyenne.”
“How can we be sure?”
“You were in the military. Wasn’t there training on submarine recognition?”
A humorless laugh. “I flew fast jets in the Air Force. Give me a MiG or a Sukhoi, and I can ID it from five miles away. Boats aren’t my thing.”
“We need to figure this out, because if that is a Chinese sub, it’s game over. Shouldn’t there be a flag or an emblem or something?”
“I think subs fly flags, but only when they’re underway on the surface.”
“I don’t see a flag anywhere.”
“Hang on…” Sharpe quick-timed back to the cargo hold and disappeared inside. Thirty seconds later he emerged with a pair of camouflaged binoculars.
He rushed back and said, “I came across these earlier, but I didn’t see much use for them at the time. Probably owned by the guy who was going hunting.”
He trained the optics on the sub and studied it at length.
“Well?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the distant sharklike form.
“I still don’t see anything. It’s just black, no insignia of any kind. There’s a… wait.” He adjusted the focus and said, “I see a stenciled warning near a hatch. I have no idea what it says, but the characters themselves are an answer. Cyrillic.”
“Russians? What would they be doing here?”
“I don’t know… but I suspect we’re about to find out.”