“Kelly was not lying,” Gray concluded. “Ryan is a true master of icebreaking.”
“Ice-blasting,” Seichan corrected him.
Gray cut his engine and hopped off. Seichan did the same. They stepped together through the last of the debris field toward the ice-free wall of rock. The archway that Gray had spotted earlier now lay exposed. Past it, a rubble-strewn slope of ice descended into the peak. A blue boulder broke loose and rolled and bounced along the ice chute, vanishing beyond the reach of their light.
Gray crossed to the arched opening, running his hand over its edge. “This must be the top of a larger cavernous opening into the mountain’s heart.” He pointed to the end of a mast sticking out of the ice. “Not far from where those ships must have once docked when the waters were still open.”
Seichan crouched and peered past the archway. “Hopefully that ice ramp leads all the way to the bottom. It looks wide enough for our snowmobiles to traverse. Maybe even a Snowcat.” She stared up. “Still, we’ll have to be careful.”
Hanging high above them, a stubborn mass of ice clung to rock. It looked like a frozen ax waiting to fall.
“Even the vibrations from our engines could bring that crashing down,” she warned.
“We can consult with Ryan. Get his assessment.”
The growl of the two Snowcats drew their attention around, announcing the arrival of the others. Gray and Seichan crossed from under that hanging lip of ice and hiked out to meet them.
The lead Snowcat braked hard. A door popped opened, and Kelly exited. He strode quickly toward them. He carried a handheld radio in his hand, his expression darkly worried.
Seichan’s heart pounded harder, sensing something was wrong.
“What is it?” Gray asked.
Kelly lifted his radio. “Byron just called in. There’s a plane on approach, casting out a nonstop SOS.”
Seichan craned her neck and searched the skies. A slight haze persisted as fine ice crystals hung in the air, reflecting the sunlight. But she spotted no aircraft.
Gray joined her, shading his eyes. “Who is it?”
“Pilot says his name is Monk Kokkalis. Claims he knows you.”
Seichan’s breath clamped in her throat. Gray reached out and grasped her arm, squeezing all his hope into that grip.
To the west, a small prop plane flew into view, entering the well of blue skies framed by the fogbank. It began a slow circle.
“He’s requesting permission to land,” Kelly said.
“Tell him to do so.” Gray’s voice was raw with relief. “To touch down out here.”
But Kelly was not done. “Your friend says we’ve got trouble coming our way. Big trouble.”
2:55P.M.
Kowalski gathered with everyone out on the ice. There was much hugging and claps on backs. Even Marco had recognized his sometime-partner and had come bounding over, leaping at him in a canine greeting, one paw landing squarely in his crotch.
Stories were quickly exchanged in thumbnails of victories and losses. The latter dampened the initial joy.
“We still don’t know if Bailey survived,” Monk said. “We can only hope.”
Kelly shoved forward, concentrating on the immediate threat. “Describe the patrol boat that’s following theKing’s trail.”
“Definitely Russian,” Tucker said. “Looks new. Especially the weaponry it’s carrying. My guess is that it holds a crew of at least a hundred.”
Monk nodded at this assessment. “By my estimate, clocking their speed, they’ll be here in two hours, maybe less.”
Gray faced Kelly. “Any further word from your navigator and radio crew? We need the world reopened. To get eyes looking this way.”
Kowalski scowled. “Why? So everyone can get first row seats at our slaughter?”
