Ice Hunt

Now the true battle began.

2:54 P.M.

USS POLAR SENTINEL

Perry paced the control bridge of his submarine as it raced under the ice. No one spoke. The crew knew the urgency of their mission, the risk. The plan was almost impossible to fathom. He knew that even if he succeeded, it could cost him his captain’s bars. He didn’t care. He knew right from wrong, blind duty from personal responsibility. Still another question nagged: Did he know bravery from simple stupidity?

While en route to Omega, he had come close a hundred times to calling the Polar Sentinel back around, ordering it to return to the safety of the distant Alaskan coast. But he never did. He simply watched the distance to their destination grow smaller and smaller. Had captains of the past been plagued by such doubts? He had never felt so unfit to lead.

But there was no one else.

“Captain,” his chief whispered to him. The Polar Sentinel was baffled and soundproofed, but no one dared speak too loudly lest the dragon in the waters should hear them. “Position confirmed. The Drakon is already surfaced at Omega.”

Perry crossed to the man. He checked their distance to Omega. Still another five nautical miles. “How long have they been there?”

The chief shook his head. Up until now, details had been sketchy. Without going active with their sonar, staying in passive mode, the exact whereabouts and location of the Drakon had been fuzzy. At least they had found the other sub. Still, that narrowed their own window considerably. The Russians must already be evacuating the station. According to the intercepted UQC communication, the captain of the Drakon would blow the base once he began his descent. The Russian captain wouldn’t risk damaging his own boat during the conflagration.

But what was the time frame?

His diving officer, Lieutenant Liang, stepped to his side. His features were tight with worry. “Sir, I’ve run the proposed scenario over with the helm crew. We’ve wrangled various options.”

“And what’s the time estimate for the maneuver?”

“I can position us in under three minutes, but we’ll need another two to rise safely.”

“Five minutes…” And we still have to get there.

Perry glanced to their speed. Forty-two knots. It was blistering for a sub running silent, but that was the Sentinel’s advantage. Still, they dared go no faster. If the Drakon picked up the cavitation of their propellers or any other telltale sign of their approach, they were doomed.

He calculated in his head the time to reach Omega, to get in position, to orchestrate the rescue…and escape. They didn’t have the time. He stared at his chief. If only the Drakon hadn’t already been in position, weren’t already evacuating Russian forces…

Liang stood quietly. He knew the same. They all did. Once again, he prepared to call their boat around. They had made a run for it, but it was hopeless. The Russians had beaten them.

But he pictured Amanda’s smile, the crinkles at the corners of her eyes when she laughed, the way her lips parted under his own, softly, sweetly…

“Chief,” Perry said, “we need to delay the Drakon’s departure.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to ping the other boat with active sonar.”

“Sir?”

Perry turned to his men. “We need to let the Drakon know someone shares their waters. That someone is watching.” He paced, running out his plan aloud. “They expected us long gone. That no one would be around to witness what is going to happen. By pinging them, it will force their captain to confer with his commander, delay a bit longer. Perhaps buy us the time we need.”

“But they’ll be on full alert with all their ears up,” Liang said. “As it is, we’ll be hard-pressed to sneak under their nose and perform the rescue maneuver.”

“I’m aware of that. We were sent north to run the Polar Sentinel through its paces. To prove its capacity in speed and stealth. That’s just what I intend to do.”

Liang took a deep, shuddering breath. “Aye, sir.”

Perry nodded to the chief. “One ping…then we go dead silent.”

“Aye to that, sir.” The chief shifted over to the sonar suite and began conferring.

Perry turned to his diving officer. “As soon as we ping, I want the helm to heel the boat away at forty-five degrees from our present course. I don’t want them to get a fix on us. We run fast and silent.”

“As a ghost, sir.” Liang turned on a heel and retreated to his station.

One of the sonar techs suddenly jumped to his feet. “Sir! I’m picking up venting! Coming from the Drakon!”

Perry swore. The Russian sub was preparing to dive, taking on ballast, venting air. They were too late. The evacuation had already been completed.

The chief stared over at him. His face was plain to read: Continue as planned or abort?

Perry met the other’s gaze, unflinching. “Ring their doorbell.”

The chief spun around and placed a hand on the sonar supervisor. Switches were flipped and a button punched.

The chief nodded to him.

It was done. They had just given themselves away. Now to observe the reaction. A long moment stretched even longer. The Sentinel swung under their feet, deck plates tilting as the sub adjusted to a new trajectory.

Perry stood with clenched fists.

“Venting stopped, sir,” the technician whispered.

Their call had been heard.

“Sir!” Another sonar tech was on his feet, hissing urgently for attention. The tech wore headphones. “I’m picking up another contact. Noise on the hydrophones.” He pointed to his earpiece.

Another contact? Perry hurried to him. “Coming from where?”

The tech’s eyes flicked upward. “Directly on top of us, sir.”

Perry waved for the phones. The technician passed them to him, and he pressed an earpiece to his head. Through the phone, he heard what sounded like drums, beating slowly…more than one…their cadence picked up rapidly.

Perry had once been a sonar tech. He knew what he heard drumming through the ice from above. “Rotor wash,” he whispered.

The technician nodded. “There are two birds in the air.”

2:56 P.M.

ABOARD THE DRAKON

Mikovsky was getting the same information from his sonar crew. A moment ago, their boat had been pinged, deliberately and precisely. Clearly someone was in the waters below—and now another party was in the skies above.

The Drakon was pinned down, trapped.

If the other sub had pinged them, then they certainly had a weapons lock. He could almost sense the torpedo aimed at his ass. The fact that no fish was already in the water suggested the ping had only been a warning.