Dead Ice

EIGHTEEN

The ice flattened out.

It was young, not yet pushed, cracked and splintered under the pressure of the next sheet forming behind it.

It also meant that the surface was thinner in patches and less secure.

Closer now, there was no mistaking the submarine’s conning tower. The sub had been pushed up in the ice, the prow protruding from the ice at an angle, the sail still clear of the surface. It was obvious that nothing the crew attempted would have liberated it from the ice, but equally there was nothing to stop them from climbing out and striking out across the frozen landscape in search of what passed for civilization on Wrangel Island. The Spetsnaz team couldn’t be far away, but there was no sign of them. He didn’t think they were too late, because the snow around the sub appeared undisturbed by anything apart from the wind.

“You know this thing could be the death of us, don’t you?” Bones asked as they quickened their pace. Neither one of them had to say they needed to push on.

“The ice? The radiation or whatever it is that has been released inside that sub?” Maddock asked. “Or do you just mean the Russians?”

“All three.” Bones replied. “But you knew that, didn’t you? That’s why you made the others stay behind. It’s never been about speed for you, has it? This was only ever going to take two of us if we actually made it this far. We both know that there’s a sickness on board and that the crew won’t be fighting back.”

“If there’s anyone still alive.” Maddock still harbored grim hopes there might be some survivors to help without compromising the mission, but the last shreds of that hope were slipping away. He didn’t expect to find anyone alive. Yes, the Russian had come from somewhere, but not the sub. He was either a native, or an escapee from the Gulag.

They covered the last klick in silence. Each step took them further out onto the frozen sea. The ice held the submarine in a vice like grip. The paused for a moment before they stepped into the shadow of the great vessel, dwarfed by the conning tower and the bulwark spearing out of the ice like a torpedo trapped mid-launch, frozen in time and ice. Maddock was lost in thought. It took a moment for the strangely familiar click, click click to fight its way through his subconscious to the front of his mind. He turned to face Bones.

The big man had a Geiger counter in his hand.

“Radiation,” he said matter-of-factly. “We don’t want to be hanging around here longer than we absolutely need to. And even that’s going to be too long inside there. The level’s not dangerous out here, but it’s bad enough. If we’re going to do this, we’d better get it over with.”

Maddock nodded. No choice. The objective was clear. Retrieve Pandora’s Egg. Whatever the hell Pandora’s Egg was.

A sheen of ice coated the metal. There were enough ridges and rivets to provide hand and foot holds, but it wouldn’t make an easy climb. They had to move with care, knowing that every footfall would sound like a hammer within the sub, announcing their arrival to anyone not too dead to hear it. They climbed until they stood beside the periscope atop the conning tower, and looked back down at the ice below.

It was a long dizzying drop.

“Well at least one of them came out this way.” Bones pointed at the hatch. A metal bar had been wedged into the mechanism ensuring that no one on the inside would be able to get out.

He gave the bulges on either side of the submarine a cursory glance. He knew that was where the ICBMs were housed, already loaded into their launchers. The launchers were hidden behind hatches. There was no way in or out of the vessel that way.

Anyone still alive inside knew that visitors would have to come in through the front door.