Chapter 42
Patience was an essential trait for intelligence officers.
Kasey had always sucked at it. She couldn’t stop planning.
Couldn’t stop overthinking, visualizing the pitfalls.
What if the Cheyenne was running late? What if she never made it here at all?
If that happened, there were only two vessels anywhere near that could spirit the survivors to safety.
For Kasey, getting on either one with Chen and Sky Fire was a complete nonstarter.
Dozens of scenarios coursed through her head, and for each one she drew up a contingency plan. More and more, one common denominator emerged. Unfortunately, it was a move that she wasn’t even sure was possible.
The mood among the passengers had brightened.
Rescue was imminent. After spending an hour inside the wrecked hull, Khurtin and most of his crew had gone back to the Aurora—according to the captain, to obtain a second load of supplies, as well as to coordinate a plan to get everyone back to civilization.
Sharpe had made his pitch to the captain to go aboard the Aurora.
Not surprisingly, Khurtin shot the idea down.
He explained that his crew would happily relay all the pertinent information to Hemisphere Airlines.
Sharpe had pushed back, but only slightly.
He and Kasey had both expected the captain to kill the idea.
Two Russian crewmen had stayed behind, one of them carrying a handheld VHF radio for communication with the Aurora.
Kasey kept a casual eye on them, but she saw nothing beyond a pair of enlisted men who were glad to be ashore for a few hours.
Yet when the one with the radio answered what sounded like a routine call, something stirred in the back of her mind.
The thought soon coalesced into a new complication—one she hadn’t considered before.
The photos and videos the crew had taken.
Their only use was as propaganda for Moscow, so the images would be transmitted to headquarters. Soon after that, however, they would be headlining newscasts. She imagined the crawl at the bottom of the screen: Russian submarine Aurora rescues passengers from Arctic air disaster.
It was as predictable as it was disastrous.
If such a headline aired, the Chinese would see it almost immediately.
Minutes after that, Snow Dragon 2 would receive new and urgent orders.
Kasey tried to think of a way to forestall that sequence of events, but nothing came to mind.
Even booting up Sky Fire to query the agency would do little to alter the equation.
Kasey realized there was no sense dwelling on it. Exposure was imminent. She could only be ready.
She spotted Chen near the improvised door of their shelter.
She had encouraged him to walk up and down the aisle to work on his mobility.
She’d phrased it in a way that a physical therapist might have, but her true motive was more self-serving.
Chen seemed to be improving, although he was still limping on his injured leg.
She strolled up the aisle, timing her approach to intercept him midway—the most private place in the cabin at that moment.
“Looks like you’re moving better,” she said.
“The pain is less, but I doubt I will be running a marathon anytime soon.”
“Hopefully we did all our running back in Hong Kong.”
Chen looked forward and aft. With no one near, he said in a hushed tone, “It might be helpful to check for updates. Is it possible you could distract the guards while I take Sky Fire outside and make a connection?”
Kasey was struck by his word choice. Guards. It felt strangely apt.
“No,” she said, “we can’t risk it. The Russians say they’ve come to rescue us, but we can’t forget they’re a military unit.
If they caught us using an advanced communications device, they would confiscate it in a heartbeat.
They’d also start investigating our backgrounds, and that’s a hole you and I don’t want them to dig. ”
Chen nodded, his disappointment evident.
“Maybe we’ll get a chance later,” she added. Kasey then gave him an appraising look. “That jacket looks a little thin.”
“I wasn’t cold when I was outside earlier.”
“Yeah… but all the same.” On a nearby seat, she saw a pile of winter jackets the Russians had brought.
They had Velcro on the chest for attaching nametags and epaulets for rank insignia.
They had obviously been requisitioned from enlisted men on the Aurora whose duties precluded them from going ashore.
She sorted through to find what looked like the best fit and handed it to Chen. He removed the jacket he was wearing and tried it on.
“That looks better,” she said.
“The other one was more comfortable.”
“You can still wear it. But keep this one handy in case we get a chance to go outside and use Sky Fire.”
Chen said that he would and then set off toward the front.
Kasey moved in the opposite direction. She paused near the pile of debris that Nick had built near the exit. The edges of the covering canopy vibrated in the wind, tiny swirls of snow pulsing inside.
Kasey retrieved a discarded backpack from the pile.
She unzipped it and removed a neck pillow, a phone charger, and a spy novel she’d heard about but never read, The Elias Enigma by Simon Gervais.
She kept the empty backpack and tossed the rest back on the pile.
Kasey began building a mental inventory of what she would need for her last-ditch plan.
She hoped to never execute it, but laying the groundwork was a good distraction.
It kept her busy, made her feel like she was doing something.
She returned to the front of the cabin and offered words of encouragement to the passengers. She smiled at the two Russians, neither of whom spoke more than a few words of Hollywood English.
Then, ever so discreetly, Kasey began gathering what she would need.