Gray turned, noting the two dogs standing stiffly to the side, facing the icy waterfall, noses low, hackles high. Both growled in low warning tones.
“They’re scenting something they don’t like,” Tucker said. “And I’ve learned to trust their noses more than my eyes.”
Gray crossed closer to investigate. Framing either side of the waterfall, half buried in the ice, rose two tall stone thrones, all carved with symbols. The closest was inscribed with a riotous garden of twisted leaves and thorns, like a macabre version of Eden. On the far side, the tall seat appeared carved with sea life in all its myriad forms, as if waiting for Poseidon to rest his weary bones.
He remembered Yelagin mentioning the discovery of an oversize throne on one of the White Sea islands. The bishop had also shared a Greek account of a towering trio of Hyperborean brothers. Gray tried to picture someone three cubits in height sitting there, but even these chairs appeared too large, which suggested they were meant to be symbolic, rather than practical.
“There’s a spacebehindthis carved throne,” Tucker said. “It extends behind the fall of ice, too.”
Gray shifted over, stepping between Marco and Kane to get a peek into the gap. He pointed his flashlight into the narrow space.
“Anything?” Jason asked.
Gray nodded and faced the others. “Appears to be a tunnel in the wall between the thrones. It’s reachable if we go single file.”
Tucker frowned. “I think my partners would argue against trespassing there.”
Despite the risk, Gray knew they had to investigate.
“Something must be down there,” he said. “That tunnel is positioned grandly near the entrance, framed by those thrones, also by thepyramids to either side.” He swung an arm toward the tents. “Even this lost group set up camp here.”
“And look what happened to them,” Tucker reminded the group. “You all can go inside, but I’m keeping my dogs out. That’s if I could even get them to go in there.”
“Just as well. It’s best if we leave someone behind.” Gray searched up the wall of ice. “In case we get stuck.”
Tucker shrugged, looking more than happy to stand guard. “Keep in mind, our radios won’t work once you’re in there. Not through all that rock and ice. If you get in trouble, I’m not going to know. And vice versa.”
“Understood. We’ll have to make do.” Gray faced the others. “If anyone else wants to stay here, I would understand. Just don’t wander far.”
He searched their faces. No one took up his offer, though Omryn looked doleful and worried.
Gray nodded and shifted behind the throne. “Then let’s head out.”
44
May 14, 4:17P.M. ANAT
East Siberian Sea
Standing on the ice, buried in dense fog, Kowalski cursed his life. He tugged at the crotch of his dry suit. The scuba gear was courtesy of thePolar King, but apparently none of the dive squad was taller than six feet. It made for a snug, ball-pinching fit.
Still, the gear was not the worst of his complaints.
He stared over an icy cliff. Twenty feet below, black water washed and sloshed. Two of theKing’s dive team flanked him. All three wore their tanks, waiting for the word to go. Another crewmate pounded a motorized winch into the ice. Its line would lower them into the polar sea—and hopefully raise them later.
Everyone moved about swiftly, as if they had done this before, and maybe they had. For a crew of an icebreaker, tackling problems in deep ice was likely a regular necessity. But he doubted any of them had ever tried to ambush an eight-thousand-ton Russian patrol boat, one armed to the teeth with cruise missiles and naval guns.
Captain Kelly stood a few yards away, radio at his ear, yelling into it, as if that would help with the spotty reception. But at least the other half of this assault team—the dry half—was only a quarter mile away, led by Ryan Marr.
Monk strode from the captain’s side and joined Kowalski. “The others will be ready in five. They’ve finished their drill holes and are placing charges now.”
Kowalski pictured that five-man team out on the ice. Twenty minutes ago, they had leaped from the plane as it came to a stop, trudging off with huge drills over their shoulders, each with bits three feet long. They had quickly disappeared into the fog.
Afterward, Monk had flown the rest of the party here, a quarter mile farther up the channel created by thePolar King’s passage. The flight to this area had been harrowing enough. Monk had kept the Baikal skimming the ice the entire time, all but flying blind through the fog, not that there were any trees or hills to worry about.
From the hydrophones aboard theKing, they had been able to determine a rough position of the approaching patrol boat. The sound of its diesel engines and spinning props had been easy to track. It was how they knew it was traveling under full steam, faster than when it had last been spotted from the air, which necessitated a quick change in plans.
The ambush site was only five miles from where thePolar Kingwas parked. They had hoped for a greater distance, but the Russian ship was sweeping in fast, which also shortened their timetable.
