Chapter 41
Arctic
Crash Site
To Kasey’s disappointment, the gangway worked like a charm.
She had been hoping for snags. Hoping for broken hardware or incompetent deckhands.
But aside from a brief dispute over detaching the ramp from the sub’s deck, everything went smoothly.
The crewmen dragged it across the ice effortlessly.
As they closed in, Kasey recognized it as a passerelle, a telescoping, lightweight boarding ramp commonly used on luxury yachts to get well-heeled owners ashore.
By all appearances, it worked equally well on ice-clad nuclear submarines.
After arriving at the breach, the crewmen stretched the ramp to its full length in seconds.
Roughly fifteen feet long, it easily bridged the gap between the ice sheets.
The captain was the first across, and he walked tentatively, his arms stretched out like a man on a high wire.
The passerelle seemed stable enough, but the wind was still gusting.
Khurtin stepped off on the near side and said, “There, you see? Our problem is solved.” He shook Kasey’s hand, followed by Sharpe’s.
“Good thing you had that on hand,” she said, gesturing to the ramp.
The captain regarded the fissure. “In English, I think, these gaps are called ‘leads.’ We Russians are experienced in Arctic operations. Normally, they are but a minor problem. Sometimes, however…”
His voice trailed off as Khurtin turned and signaled for his crew to join him. One by one, they began to mount the passerelle and traverse the divide.
The men with phones documented the operation, paying particular attention to two men hauling supplies. Five minutes later, everyone was across.
Khurtin gestured to two of his men and gave instructions in Russian that Kasey had no problem understanding.
The pair hauled the ramp onto solid ice, presumably so it wouldn’t be lost if the shelves started drifting apart.
He then told one man to remain behind to monitor the lead.
If it began to widen, the captain was to be notified immediately.
Khurtin, Kasey realized, had not been exaggerating—for him, the ice was familiar ground.
“Now,” the Russian said, clapping his hands together. “We should see to the others.”
Kasey led the way to their shelter. When they reached it, Khurtin paused to study the makeshift canopy covering the entrance.
“Very clever,” he commented.
“Credit to our first officer,” she said, nodding to Sharpe.
They went through, and the instant the passengers saw the Russian captain they broke into applause.
Khurtin beamed, and one of his men was quick enough to capture a video.
“Thank you for the warm reception,” he said.
“I am Captain Arkady Khurtin of the Russian Navy.” He launched into a speech that seemed almost rehearsed.
He began by expressing sympathy for the terrible ordeal they had endured, then followed with confident assurances that their troubles were near an end.
Kasey’s eyes drifted to the starboard side. She saw a corner of Sky Fire’s case beneath the pile of wreckage where she’d been concealing it. Chen had done well.
Khurtin came in for a landing. “We are coordinating with headquarters to determine the best way to transfer you to a safe port. This may take time, as the weather is difficult. Until then, you will be safe and secure here. We have brought portable heaters to make you more comfortable. My men and I now wish to talk to each of you individually. We would like to know your full name, country of citizenship, and also please detail any injuries you have suffered. This information will be transmitted to the authorities immediately. I am sure your families are eager to hear of your good fortune.”
One of the crewmen broke away and began talking to the elderly Asian couple in fluent Mandarin. A medic began tending to the man they’d found wandering outside, who Kasey suspected had suffered a serious concussion.
Khurtin took out a pad of paper, poised a pen, and said, “I will begin with the two of you.”
Sharpe provided his name and nationality, and said he had no significant injuries. Kasey did the same, sticking to the legend she had been booked under for the flight.
When the Russian was done writing, Kasey asked, “Do you plan to take us aboard your submarine?”
The captain cocked his head. An overt display of indecision from a man whose job title precluded it. “We shall see. Certain measures would have to be taken to bring guests aboard the Aurora. I also doubt she is the most expeditious route to safety.”
“Are there any other vessels in the area?”
“None that I am aware of.”
For the first time, Kasey saw a red flag. A Chinese icebreaker lay just over the horizon, and any competent captain of a warship would know it. Which meant Khurtin was either inept or lying. She doubted it was the former.
“But do not worry,” he added. “If the weather worsens, or if other serious troubles arise, then of course we would welcome you onto Aurora.”
“Good to hear.”
Khurtin held her in an appraising stare. “I am wondering, Miss…” He referred to his pad. “Johnson. You seem very involved in this situation.”
“First Officer Sharpe is in charge. But I saw that he needed help, so I volunteered to assist.”
Appearing placated, Khurtin said, “Good of you to do so.” He moved on to Nick and Sofia.
The Russians not involved in taking names began handing out supplies.
Blankets and chemical heat packs were distributed.
Hot coffee was poured from a thermos into Styrofoam cups.
Two portable butane heaters were fired up.
A folding stretcher was expanded to its full length and mounted between broken seats to create a bench.
The crewman who spoke Mandarin interviewed Chen. As soon as that exchange ended, Kasey gave Sharpe a subtle elbow. Together they edged over to Chen, and when all of the Russians were out of earshot, she quietly asked, “Did you get through to Langley?”
“Yes. The news is not good.” He checked his watch. “The Cheyenne is still more than four hours away. We are to delay as best we can until then.”
“Four hours is a long time,” Kasey replied, “but it might be doable. We were just talking to our U-boat commander, and I got the impression he doesn’t want to take us on board. I’m guessing there’s a lot of tech on that sub they don’t want us to see, but nevertheless, it suits our purposes.”
“I read it the same way,” Sharpe agreed. “But I might ask him if I can go aboard anyway.”
“Why?” Kasey asked.
“In a situation like this, my duty would be to establish comm with a dispatcher at Hemisphere Airlines to initiate their accident response plan. At least, that’s what I’d do if you and Sky Fire weren’t in the mix.”
“That actually makes sense,” Kasey said. “See? You’re starting to think like a spy.”
“Of course, if you two hadn’t come aboard…”
“Point taken. Go ahead and bring it up with Khurtin. Chances are, he’ll say no. If he does, we lose nothing, and you’ll have done what would be expected of you.”
“And if he says yes?”
“Then go for it. But remember, they’ll be watching. You can’t mention our ability to communicate with Langley.”
“Understood. And while I’m at it, maybe I can get a look inside the boat. I’m no expert on Russian submarines, but this one looks pretty new. Maybe I could get a picture or two.”
“Absolutely not! I don’t want you going all secret agent on me.”
“I wouldn’t be an agent. I’d be an intelligence officer.”
She shot him a hard look.
He grinned back. “Got it, no pics.” He turned away to find Khurtin.
“One other thing,” she said.
Sharpe paused.
“You should mention the bodies in the cargo hold.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’d give the captain something to think about.”
“Every hurdle we give them is in our favor.”
“Right. And you’re an expert on hurdles.”
Sharpe set off, still smiling.
Kasey noticed Chen staring at her inquisitively. “I’ll explain later,” she said. “Did Langley say anything else?”
“They promised to monitor the comm channel continuously. But they understand that Sky Fire must remain shut down.”
“Okay, then that’s it. We wait.”
Kasey put on her gloves and stepped outside, wanting a moment to herself.
The cold slap of the wind was bracing, but she was getting used to it.
The Aurora lay in the distance, a menacing, sharklike presence save for her stillness.
Somewhere beyond lurked the Snow Dragon 2, and the Cheyenne was closing in.
Kasey was struck by the symbolism of it all.
She was no expert in geopolitics, but she knew that the Arctic had become a battleground.
Not in a war fought with bullets, but a theater of sharp-elbowed diplomacy, territorial overreach, and military intimidation.
Unfortunately, if her present dilemma was any indication, America was a distant third.
At that moment, Russia and China had the positional advantage; their vessels were nearby, and Sky Fire was almost in their grasp.
But not quite.
Kasey was determined to keep it that way. As had been the case for hundreds of years, America enjoyed one great combat advantage. Authoritarian nations, by definition, kept strict top-to-bottom chains of command. A field commander rarely made a move that wasn’t authorized by headquarters.
Kasey, however, was not so constrained. American combat doctrine held that those on the front line were in the best position to recognize tactical advantages, and as such, they were given broad latitude to react as necessary.
Whatever choices Kasey made, she would have to account for them later, defend their legality and soundness.
But in the heat of battle, the decisions were hers to make.
And down to her marrow, that’s what she believed was coming.
A battle was near.
And she would be ready.