The last Kurt saw of it, the men were abandoning it and running for safety.
On his own now, he sped past the ruined nose of the aircraft. Somewhere inside he imagined Ahab still talking, no doubt congratulating himself on his own greatness. The idea was both revolting and laughable.
Clearing the plane and leaving the Russians behind, Kurt attempted to call Joe on the small radio attached to the console. Without the helmets and their built-in speakers he had to lean close to the snow machine’s console with its built-in microphone. He shouted, hoping Joe had his volume up.
Three tries brought no response.
Kurt scanned the open snowfield in front of him. There was no sign of Joe. But a headlight blazing through the night was racing toward him from the Russian side. It was a warm yellow beam, as opposed to the cool, blue-white glow the NUMA headlights made.
Apparently, the Russians weren’t done yet.
Kurt turned hard, making sure to stay out of reasonable firing range. But instead of going after him, the Russian snowmobile raced on by, heading directly for Norway. Either a lone Russian had decided to invade Europe all on his own, or it was Joe.
Kurt turned to follow and put on the speed. He pulled alongside Joe and the noisy machine.
“I see you have a new ride,” Kurt shouted.
Joe nodded at his friend. “I jumped at the chance to get it.”
Kurt had a feeling Joe meant that literally. “You get much on your trade-in?”
“Not really,” Joe shouted. “It wasn’t going to be in drivable condition much longer.”
Kurt looked back. They were unfollowed and home free at this point. The Norwegian border was no more than a mile away, with the safety of the tree line a few miles beyond that.
As they reached it, the euphoria of escape gave way to the reality of the situation.
They’d survived Ahab’s trap, escaping both the plane and the Russians, but they had little else to show for it. The laser was gone, the C-17 was destroyed, and the hijackers were dead. Any link they could forge to Ahab, or any hint regarding his ultimate plans, had vanished as well.
“Now what?” Joe shouted, a hint of dejection evident in his voice.
There was only one answer. “Now we go find Ahab,” Kurt said. “And stop whatever he’s planning to do.”
Chapter 46
The ride back to theLyrawas done in both radio and personal silence.
Kurt kept his eyes on the snow ahead, tracking back toward the harbor on the same grooves he and Joe had come out on. Not much had changed, but everything had changed. The biggest question was also the most inscrutable one: If he didn’t want to sell the laser, what on earth could Ahab possibly want with it? Without more information there was simply no way to know. But Ahab would have an endgame in mind beyond getting revenge on Kurt and Gushan. Otherwise, he could have simply left the laser in place and blown the plane to confetti as soon as Kurt or Gushan stepped on board.
Kurt let the question be and allowed his mind to go quiet. It had been working overtime for a week, along with his body. Both needed to rest before he made another major decision.
Nearing the outer edges of Tromsø, he eased up on the throttle and straightened in the saddle. The outer layer of his clothing creaked and cracked; it had frozen solid from the slush. His hair was a shell of ice, whiter than its normal silver-gray. Remarkably, his core remained toasty warm, thanks to the heated seat and handlebars.
They dumped the Russian snowmobile at the edge of town and rode together on the surviving NUMA machine. There was a bit of fire in the sky. It almost passed for the coming of dawn, but was actually the glow of the northern lights. The Vikings believed the auroras to be the shimmer of light reflecting off the armor of the Valkyries, the divine female warriors that carried fallen heroes to the afterlife in Valhalla. Perhaps they’d been expecting Kurt to join them. If so, they’d have to wait, he still had things to do.
Easing their way around the outskirts of town, they rounded the clusters of small buildings, bringing the harbor into view once again. Both the Chinese icebreaker and the Russian spy trawler were gone.
Reaching theLyra, he could see the repairs coming along. The ship would need a few more days before it could safely risk oceanic travel, but it was nearly seaworthy.
Parking beside the gangway, Kurt and Joe eased off the sled, stiff from the ride and the cold. An enlisted member of the crew came down to greet them. Kurt handed him the keys. “You can park it around back. We’re not going to need it again today.”
The baffled crewman took the keys and nodded, then got on his radio to get the cargo hatch opened so he could pull it inside.
Climbing the gangway, Kurt shook the last of the ice from his clothing.
The captain met them as they stepped aboard. He searched their eyes. “Well…?”
Kurt shook his head.
