Chapter 39
Arctic
Crash Site
We’re so glad to see you!” Kasey shouted when the Russians were within earshot. It would have been far more satisfying to give them the middle finger, but probably not conducive to mission accomplishment.
She typically had keen instincts for how to control situations.
How to playact and blend into circumstances.
The current scenario, however, had her completely confounded.
She was one of the few survivors of an airplane crash, and for the last day she’d endured one of the harshest climates on earth.
Now rescuers had finally come to give warmth and comfort—and she wanted with all her heart for them to go away.
Still thirty yards distant, the man leading the pack waved but didn’t reply to her greeting.
She and Sharpe were standing at the edge of the break in the ice.
The gap seemed stable, and on closer inspection was roughly eight feet wide at its narrowest point.
Kasey wished it was bigger. Wished it was an ocean.
The Russians drew to a stop on the opposite side.
“Thank God you’ve come!” Kasey called across the divide.
She said it in English for two reasons. First was to play the part of the dumb American, one of her go-to moves.
Most Yankees assumed the rest of the world spoke English, a predictable if self-diminishing trait.
Her second reason was more calculating—Kasey, in fact, spoke fluent Russian.
And that could be turned to her advantage.
“Hello,” said the man in the lead. He wore the insignia of captain first rank. “Our headquarters notified us that there was an air crash in the area, so we joined the search. We were lucky to find you quickly.”
The captain’s English was good but heavily accented. Kasey concentrated on what he’d said. Hemisphere Airlines Flight 777 was overdue, so it made sense that news of the crash had gotten out.
“I am Captain Arkady Khurtin. You are one of the pilots?” the Russian inquired, addressing Sharpe.
“First Officer Brett Sharpe. I’m the only remaining crewmember.”
The captain gestured to the distant wreckage. “I trust there are others?”
“Unfortunately, many were not so fortunate. There are nine of us altogether.”
The captain exchanged a look with his men. “I am sorry for your loss. But know that you are now safely in the hands of Russia’s finest submariners.”
Kasey said, “A few of the others are injured, but none critically.”
“Rest assured, my team will assist you. We have a capable medic on board, and doctors are standing by to offer advice until we reach a hospital.” The captain gestured then to the icy fissure that was separating them. “It appears we have a difficulty. But this can be dealt with.”
He half-turned to give an order in Russian that Kasey correctly interpreted. Two of his men set off back toward the submarine, their job to retrieve the gangway. They would drag it here and attempt to use it to cross the breach.
And it’s probably long enough to work, she thought, struggling to come up with another way to buy them more time.
As the men rushed off, Kasey said, “Why are you carrying weapons?”
“I was hoping you might tell us. A short time ago our sonar registered the sound of gunfire.”
Kasey held steady. This had not occurred to her, and it was a solid explanation for why they were armed. Though not necessarily the only one. “A polar bear was approaching. We used a rifle we discovered in our cargo hold to frighten it away.”
She watched the captain closely and saw neither affirmation nor doubt. The man was calm and collected, and she guessed he was a good submarine commander. But right now, he was out of his element.
“Have you reported that you’ve found us?” she asked.
“Not yet. I wanted to evaluate the situation myself before advising headquarters.”
She turned to Sharpe and said, “Might be a good time to tell Captain Khurtin what happened—just the basics.”
Sharpe went over the crash in a general way, describing the failure of both engines. He left out their suspicions of Chinese involvement in the disaster. He then described the condition of all nine survivors.
As he talked, Kasey watched and listened.
Four of the Russians were armed, but they didn’t look alert. In fact, based on their stances and eye movement, they weren’t particularly well trained. If she were to guess, she was looking at four ordinary seamen who’d been told to grab rifles.
She noticed two of the other men fiddling with their phones.
This confused her at first. There wasn’t a cell signal within a thousand miles, and she doubted a military sub would provide an alternate connection.
More to the point, no self-respecting captain would permit such a distraction by a working detail.
Then one of the men raised his phone and began taking pictures…
of her and Sharpe, with the wreckage in the background. And just like that, Kasey understood.
In the distance, the two sailors who’d been sent back to the boat were gesticulating toward a third man on deck. On appearances, a minor argument had erupted about how to disassemble the gangway.
Arguments were good, Kasey thought.
Arguments took time.
Sharpe was now droning on about the weather. A minute here, a minute there. The two of them were doing well.
She only hoped that Chen was making the best of it.