“Our superiors believe the American jet put down at a remote airfield, where it has been hangared and refueled. We only have to wait for nightfall to see it arrive.”
The captain shook his head in disbelief. “Where could such drivel possibly come from?” he asked, failing to hide his exasperation. “The most wishful of wishful thinking.”
“The high command hasn’t chosen to share the source of their information with me,” the admiral said truthfully. “Wherever itcame from our orders are the same. We wait until they tell us otherwise. We keep the runway in working condition.”
The captain scowled, failing to hide his irritation. “Every minute we stay here we risk being discovered.”
Before the admiral could answer, the third man in the trio came over to join the conversation. “Discovered doing what, exactly?”
Gushan was a large figure with thick, black hair and a roundish face. He was slightly overweight, and had the look of a soft-living, mid-forties male who’d spent too much time on his couch and not enough time in a gymnasium.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. Gushan was a hardened warrior, a black belt in several martial arts disciplines, a marksman, and a former wrestling champion who chose the military rather than a life training for Olympic glory. Over the last twenty years, he’d led several different Special Forces groups. He’d personally swum to and scouted beaches in Taiwan for an inevitable invasion. He’d traced down traitors and terrorists. He’d led missions into the disputed border region of India.
His reputation alone was enough to make both Li and the captain listen. But if they thought twice about hearing him out, the fact that his father sat in the upper echelons of power in Beijing kept them on their toes.
“Until the American plane appears out of the mist,” Gushan continued in a soothing voice, “we’re merely a group of scientists, setting up various experiments before the winter sets in.”
“And how do you explain a half mile of metal grating to reenforce and smooth the ice?” the captain asked.
“We won’t have to explain it to anyone,” Gushan replied. “No one owns this ice. But if anyone should ask, it’s merely an experiment to see if this type of grating can be used to keep the sea icefrom breaking up. A method to reduce the damage caused by global warming.”
For a man known to be ferocious and lethal, Gushan’s voice was surprisingly pleasant. The captain was quickly soothed by his words.
“I suppose you’re right,” the captain said. “Either way, I need to get our men back out on the ice. The wind is causing the pack to shift. If this plane does arrive, we don’t want it tearing itself apart on a jagged ridge.”
The captain posed the question to Gushan as if he could give the order, but Gushan chose not to answer, instead he diplomatically pivoted toward Admiral Li.
Li appreciated that. “Have them check the runway and the nets,” he ordered. “Just in case.”
As the captain moved off to discuss the work detail with his executive officer, Li turned to Gushan. “Your father’s political finesse did not skip a generation,” he began. “But the captain is worrying for nothing. At best the Americans would protest our presence here, rattle on about more sanctions.”
It was a scoffing boast; the admiral was grinning as he made it.
Gushan’s face reflected nothing of the admiral’s bluster. “With all due respect, you should not kid yourself, Admiral. Nine Americans are dead aboard that plane—wherever it is. Their military is embarrassed and angry.”
“We’re not responsible for those deaths,” Li said. “We’re merely playing the hand that was dealt.”
“Of course,” Gushan said. “But the Americans won’t see it that way. This plane is the most important military project they’ve undertaken in decades. It means supremacy to them.Or to us.It is a prize that will reshape the entire world. The Americans will not react with restraint if they find us with it.”
The admiral found the words sobering. But he showed no weakness. “Neither will we. Should the Americans attempt to interfere with us, you and your men will kill them. There will be no quarter given in this game. Not until the prize is safely brought to Beijing.”
Chapter 7
A mile from the Chinese ship, two men in white winter gear lay flat, hiding behind a jumbled ridge of ice. The taller of the two gazed at the Chinese ship through a powerful spotting scope, following its blocky lines to the wide rounded stern, where the cranes were in motion, lowering vehicles to the ice. Forward of the cranes, a cargo hatch gaped open. A long metal gangplank descended from it to the ice. A few men could be seen coming down the ramp. Others were already out on the ice. From this range, they looked like tiny red dots on the field of white.
“See anything interesting?” Joe Zavala asked.
Kurt thought all of it was interesting, but it was difficult to tell what might be going on. The men were spreading out across the frosty white plain. They carried or towed various kinds of equipment, stopping here and there to perform various tasks. In one area they’d set up a couple of tents. Nearby, a stream of ice particles could be seen blasting up into the air.
Pulling the hood of his jacket back and inclining his ear correctly, Kurt could just make out the buzz of a chainsaw. “Is it the Chinese New Year?”
“Not even close,” Joe said. “Why do you ask?”
“Someone’s carving an ice sculpture,” Kurt said. “Looks like they’re setting up for a party.”
He panned slowly across the scene. To the left of the ice-carving station, he saw men using a small, tracked vehicle with a robotic arm to lift something off the ice. The mystery object twisted slightly as it rose, revealing itself to be a flexible grid of metal links. It reminded Kurt of the runway matting used on dirt airstrips to keep them from developing potholes during the rainy season.
The Chinese crew cleared some debris from the metal grating and then lowered it back down. Once it was lying flat, the small truck rolled over it slowly, pressing it into the surface.
