Chapter 64
Arctic
The parting of the ice was biblical as the Cheyenne shattered once more through the pack. Great blocks of white heaved upward and outward, and the black deck became covered with chunks of frozen rubble.
Once the maneuver was complete, it took less than a minute for the main hatch to open. Sailors began hauling gear out on deck, and then down to the ice. The four men central to the show, however, remained below a few precious minutes longer.
Drake led his team down the passageway to the control room. He had been giving a final briefing until a few minutes earlier. The four operators had downed a big meal and hydrated heavily. The traditional “last supper” for a unit that might be very busy in the coming hours.
Drake turned the corner into the control room and saw that it was fully staffed for the breaching maneuver. “Any parting words from home?” he asked.
Captain Hansen referenced the latest message traffic. “Your green light remains. The best estimate is that your exfils should arrive at the rendezvous point in a little more than two hours. And they somehow came up with a plus-one.”
“A what?”
“Two individuals has turned into three.”
“How does the CIA come up with stragglers on an Arctic ice pack?”
“No telling. Oh, and your ride home just called airborne.”
Drake turned and looked at his team.
Having witnessed the situation back at the crash site, they were all aware that the Chinese sailors were fucked.
Better yet, there was nothing in their update about new threats.
As things stood, it looked like a cut-and-dried mission.
Hump across twenty-eight miles of flat pack ice to secure two—now three—CIA assets, along with one very valuable device, and escort them a mere mile south where everyone would be picked up by an LC-130.
It sounded simple. Sounded safe. They’d break a sweat on the cross country leg, but there would be no jihadis crawling out of wadis, no rebel militias careening in with .
50-caliber-mounted Toyota Hiluxes. Even so, Drake felt a nagging concern.
It was the ops that looked simple that bit you in the ass.
He didn’t know exactly why the Russians and Chinese were here, but he doubted it had to do purely with the crash of the airliner.
And after locating the fake ELT signal, he knew that the Chinese, at least, were screwing with them.
The assets being deployed by everyone, the United States included, were significant.
The sense of urgency was palpable, bordering on desperation.
This from the most powerful nations on the planet.
Regardless of the isolation, and notwithstanding the lack of firepower endemic to the region, this mission was big-league. Whatever they were chasing, it was very, very valuable.
Which, in Drake’s eyes, meant the coming hours could prove exceedingly risky.
TEN MINUTES LATER, Drake and his team were outside and gearing up.
They had spent the hours en route from the crash site fine-tuning their load.
Each of them carried a fully automatic SCAR-H rifle.
There was ammo, survival gear, radios, and three satphones.
They had left behind their NODs, since darkness wasn’t an issue, and gone with limited provisions to reduce weight.
Their entire outer layers, right down to goggles, ski masks, and plate carriers, were either Arctic white or winter camo.
All four of their rucks were stuffed to the breaking point, and they’d chosen the best skis for the difficult ice conditions.
To assist in traversing any leads, they carried both a sectioned folding ladder and an inflatable two-man raft.
“That’s a lot of stuff for a half day’s work,” Williams commented, hefting his ruck onto his back.
Drake replied, “They wanted us to bring a lot of lights and panels to mark the LZ.”
“Since when is that a big deal?”
“This won’t be a tennis-court-sized patch of dirt for putting down a Black Hawk—you can draw that circle with a can of spray paint. We’ve got a sixty-ton Herc riding in on skis, and that requires a lot of runway.”
“How much?”
“They say it depends on conditions, but something in the neighborhood of half a mile.”
“We got to mark all that?”
Drake laughed. “We’d need an airdrop for that many runway markers. We’re supposed to identify the best area and lay out the first five hundred feet. The pilots get to figure out the rest.”
“Let’s hope they know what they’re doing, since they’re our ride out.”
“Let’s hope.”
Raine and Juri approached. “Can we get a comm check?”
They went through the motions, everyone receiving and transmitting on the tactical frequency.
“All good,” Drake said. He shuffled his skis to point southwest.
“I’ll take the lead, medium stagger. Let’s keep heads up and eyes open. Everyone ready?”
Three nods in return.
Drake looked back and saw the captain watching from atop the sail. He gave a lazy salute and called out, “Good luck, skipper, and thanks for the lift.”
Hansen gave a crisper salute back. “See you back Stateside, Lieutenant.”
Drake set his skis in a wide V, pushed off, and worked into a powerful skating rhythm. The others fell in behind, Williams muscling ahead, and the two Finns looking infuriatingly at ease. This was their element.
From his vantage point high on the Cheyenne’s sail, Hansen watched the team go.
Within minutes they were mere dots. Sub commanders rarely had to deal with weather, but he did a double take on the western horizon.
It looked foreboding, low black clouds hanging like a heavy curtain.
The four men who’d just skied away were among the most capable anywhere, but even they weren’t invincible.
And for Hansen, leaving them here just didn’t feel right.
He descended the ladder to the Cheyenne’s control room.
Bennett was waiting. “Send a SITREP and rig for dive, sir?”
“You read my mind, XO. You never know when a rogue Chinese icebreaker might come barreling along.” His exec grinned at his black humor.
As his crew took care of business like the professionals they were, Hansen still couldn’t shake the stark image of the four operators skiing away.
He wished he could do more to help them.
Wished he could provide some kind of backup.
As it stood, he was trapped in this hole, and very soon beneath it.
It was the only place where Cheyenne could remain in contact and stay in the game.
All they could do now was listen and wait. But if a chance arose to do more, Hansen would be all in.