Gushan said nothing. He wasn’t sure, but they would soon find out.
As Kurt closed in on the Chinese ship, he figured he needed to do two things at roughly the same time. First, he needed to send a message to Joe, ordering him to get off the ice and fly back to theLyraand alerting him to the Chinese plan and their empty net. Second, he needed to get out of the Otter without the Chinese spotting him. He’d make the radio call first, in case he didn’t have time for a second move.
As he raced along at full speed, the navigation console beganwarning of excessive battery drain. This course was taking him back into the current. It was a major strain on the remaining battery pack, but it played to the Otter’s one true advantage.
The big, squarish ROVs—which had been assisted along by the current as they chased Kurt—were slowed far more than the streamlined NUMA sub as they drove straight into it.
Kurt watched their lights fade as they fell back. Soon there was just a dim glow. And then nothing. But he was still trailing those damned bubbles.
As he approached the opening, daylight poured in. He cruised out from under the ice, realizing he would be easier to spot directly, but harder to follow now that the bubbles had a chance to escape through the open water into the air above. Kurt hoped he’d be able to do the same thing. He turned away from the Chinese ship and followed the cut northward toward the pole. At the same time, he brought the Otter up to the surface. Free-floating ice drifted above him here and there. He could use that to his advantage.
He cruised beneath a small wolf pack of growlers surfacing on the other side. He continued north, raising the Otter’s antenna to make the call.
“Base, this is Otter,” he said. “Contact with the Chinese confirmed. High probability they were waiting for the EAGL. Runway and subsurface netting suggest they intended to land it and then push it off the ice into the water, where it could be taken apart at a shallow depth and then disposed of. Additional investigation unnecessary. Aircraft is not present. All scout teams return to the boat and await further orders. I repeat, all scout teams return to boat.”
The message had been sent. Kurt hoped both Joe and the Chinese had heard it. He doubted it would do much, but if the Chinese happened to think the Americans were here in numbers, they might beless aggressive. And if they believed the Americans were backing off and returning to their boat, they might just decide to leave him alone.
He figured that last hope was a long shot. And that meant he had to roll the dice one more time.
Chapter 11
The helicopter sat on the ice rocking back and forth in the wind. Joe had been a stoic passenger, waiting patiently and watching time tick away, checking and rechecking the radio.
The sun was heading down, having spent five short hours above the horizon. As the light became flatter, the wind picked up. Before long, it was whipping flurries of ice crystals past the cockpit windows. Studying the fading horizon, Joe wondered whether they’d get a whiteout and nightfall all at the same time.
Inside the cockpit the air was a crisp twenty-nine degrees. Joe had to keep it cold to prevent the blowing ice from melting and refreezing on every available surface. He could see his breath. He could feel his fingers growing numb.
Checking the oil temps, he decided it was time to run the engine again. He went through the start procedure, omitting the use of lights, which drew a lot of juice from the batteries.
With the starter engaged, the helicopter’s engine roared to life. Joe released the starter switch and scanned the gauges as the engine settled into a confident howl. A few minutes later Kurt’s voice came through the radio, marred slightly by static.
Joe listened to the message intently, thrilled to hear from Kurt, and then deeply puzzled by what he was saying.
“All scout teams return to the boat.”
Joe scratched his head for a minute. The first part made sense: the Chinese had been waiting to rendezvous with the hijacked EAGL. The second part of the message was also clear: the missing plane had never arrived. Joe figured Kurt had used the wordboatto suggest the imaginary teams had come off an American submarine, as submariners called their vessels boats instead of ships or subs. The last part was meant for him. Joe was the only other “scout team member” out there. Kurt was telling Joe to get back to theLyra.
Now Joe found himself annoyed. As if he would actually leave his best friend behind.
He glanced at the gauges in front of him. Satisfied that enough heat had built up in the engine compartment he shut the system down. He was about to broadcast, but didn’t need it to sound like he was in a helicopter at the time.
As the turbine wound down, he thought about what he’d say. Kurt wouldn’t order him to leave unless he’d run into trouble. He wouldn’t suggest that Joe abandon him unless he couldn’t get back to the skylight where they’d parked the sled. Joe figured Kurt was most likely surrounded or being pursued.
Visualizing all of this in his mind, Joe knew exactly what to say. He thumbed the transmitter.
“Otter, this isGoblin Shark,” Joe began. “Message received. Scout teams being recalled. Proceed to extraction point Bravo. Combat team one will cover your approach to the boat. We will set up green and red flares upon surfacing.”
Joe listened closely, pressing the headset to his ear in hopes of getting a response. He picked up a couple bursts of static, but nothingmore. He looked outside. The light was fading, the sun a tiny glow on the horizon like a candle about to go out. And then it was gone.
In a few minutes, the Arctic ice plain would drop another fifteen degrees in temperature. Joe exhaled and waited. He could only hope Kurt had received and understood the message.
Chapter 12
The wind died as soon as the sun went down. In its absence, the entire frozen venue grew still and silent, while pinpricks of starlight, too brilliant to be believed, appeared in the cloudless night sky.
In this overriding quiet, the crunch of snow underfoot and the voices of men shouting carried with surprising strength. Several groups of Chinese crewmen were now out on the ice, lumbering in their cold-weather gear, searching here and there, flashlight beams playing across the frozen white surface in all directions.
What looked like an unorganized gaggle from one perspective was actually a long picket line of humans spread out in an echelon formation. They were scanning the ice and the water along the cut, looking for any sign of the American or his submersible.
