Chapter 69
Arctic
Lieutenant Drake kept a solid rhythm, his skis gliding over the bumpy surface. He veered only slightly left and right, and his men followed in his tracks. His heart rate was elevated, and in spite of the brutal cold he was sweating beneath his layered outerwear.
They’d had to stop for one lead so far, but it had been easily negotiated with the ladder.
The two-man raft probably wouldn’t be necessary, but it was a comforting backup in case they encountered any wide stretches of open water.
Comforting for everyone, that is, except Williams, who’d drawn the short straw and had the extra ten pounds strapped to his back.
They were making good time, and Drake had been in regular contact with Langley.
The three satphones his team were carrying were the latest technology, and they had no trouble acquiring and holding a signal, even at such an extreme latitude and in lousy weather.
As they closed in on the weather station, he decided to get one last update on the situation.
He drew to a stop, took a quick swallow from his hydration pack, and pulled out his phone. The others were soon standing next to him. Williams was panting from the exertion. The Finns still looked maddeningly fresh. It was as if they’d been born on skis.
“I’m checking for a last update,” Drake said. He turned to Williams and added, “What’s our ETA?”
Willams pulled out his own device and went to nav mode. “I show six point one miles, estimated arrival 0632 Zulu.”
Drake began typing and hit send, and in less than a minute a lengthy response arrived. It was full of bad news, things that hadn’t been mentioned before. And it was exactly the kind of complication Drake had been worried about. As he read the message, his face went to stone.
“What is it?” Raine asked, seeing his concern.
“Pretty much the worst-case scenario. We’ve got a suspected enemy force inbound to our location.”
“Enemy? What enemy?” asked Williams incredulously. “And inbound how?”
“Headquarters has detected four Chinese transport aircraft making a beeline for our weather station. The first should arrive not long after we do.”
“Can these transports land on the ice like our Herc?”
“No. We’re talking about heavy jets, way too big for that.”
Williams said, “Well if it’s not going to land, then…” His words drifted off as the answer became apparent.
“Yeah. Consensus at JSOC is that we’ve got airborne units inbound.
There’s one aircraft in the lead, and the others are roughly an hour behind.
Based on where these aircraft departed, along with some SIGINT, the three trailing aircraft are thought to be carrying a force drawn from the 134th Airborne Brigade. ”
“And the aircraft in the lead?”
“There is a high likelihood it’s bringing in elements from the PLA’s Seventy-Eighth Special Forces Brigade.”
The four operators exchanged glances. Like specialists across all the services, they were intimately familiar with their counterparts in other militaries. Particularly Russian and Chinese units.
“The Ice Wolves,” Juri said. “How large a force are we talking about?”
“It’s only speculation at this point. Given that they’re a spec ops unit, like us, and the size of this transport… probably one or two platoons.”
“So at least twenty,” Williams said. “Versus the four of us.”
“Almost evens the odds, doesn’t it?”
Nobody laughed.
“Is there anything about the ETA of our own ride?” Raine asked.
“That’s the good news. Sounds like our Herc is right on time. The question is, can they land in this weather.”
Raine said, “If they can’t, then we’ll be on our own to face this Chinese force… and seriously outnumbered.”
“I suspect headquarters is acutely aware of that. And I would also guess they’ll move heaven and earth to keep us out of a firefight with the Chinese.”
“No,” Williams said. “I think somebody saw this coming all along. We got that use-of-force authorization right off the bat.”
“True. But maybe the powers that be were just proactive for once. Either way, if we find ourselves facing an imminent threat, we are cleared to respond. And there is one other ray of hope,” Drake added. “We may get some close air support.”
“CAS,” Williams said. “Where would that come from?”
“An Air Force base in Alaska, apparently. Four F-35s are on the way, but it’s unclear if they can get here in time.”
“You’re telling me our lives now depend on the United States Air Force? The least they could’ve done was send some damned A-10s.”
This got a smile from Drake. The A-10 was every ground-pounder’s CAS aircraft of choice.
But the Warthog couldn’t hold a candle to the F-35 when it came to speed.
And right now, that was essential. He pocketed his phone and gripped his ski poles.
“If you ask me, I hope everybody is late to this party… except, of course, our LC-130. If I don’t have to shoot anybody today, I’ll be a very happy man. ”