God…no…no…
Jenny leaned against the straps, pressing toward the window, her eyes open with raw shock. It was too horrible to believe. Her hearing stretched, all sounds hollowing out as something inside her wailed.
The helicopter banked, swinging around.
For a moment the view was gone. Jenny prayed it was not what she feared. Then the fiery tornado reappeared out in the ice fields, a swirling column of flame, twisting on thermals. Where Omega had once stood, flames leaped as high as the retreating helicopter.
Slowly, the blazing cascade fell back earthward, consumed by the winds and snow.
Jenny’s hearing returned. Cries of surprise and dismay spread through the cabin. Men shifted for better views, wearing masks of anger and pain.
Across the frozen wasteland, lit by the smoldering flames, a huge hole smoked like some Arctic volcano. The surrounding ice was covered in burning pools.
There was no sign of Omega. It was obliterated, blasted off the face of the world.
Jenny could not breathe. Her father…all the others…
Craig yelled over the radio on a general channel. “Goddamn it! I thought you said all the Russian booby traps had been disabled!”
A sergeant answered, “They were, sir! Unless…unless I missed one…”
Jenny still could not breathe. Tears welled but remained trapped in her eyelashes. She read the honest surprise in everyone’s face—all except one person.
The Delta Force team leader still stared out at the flaming landscape. His expression had not changed, still stoic, unaffected…not surprised.
He glanced to her.
With dawning horror, Jenny understood the true situation here.
She listened to Craig yell at the sergeant. She heard the lie in his voice. It had all been a setup. The team leaders here were operating under the same guise as the Russians: grab the prize and leave no one to tell the tale. A clean-sweep operation.
No witnesses.
Jenny maintained the fixed look of shock on her face, hiding her comprehension. She stared over at Delta One. He faced her now, trying to read her. She would live only as long as she was useful. Her immediate knowledge of the Inuktitut script was all that stood between her and a bullet in the head.
Craig whispered condolences in her ears, but she remained deaf to him. Instead, she stared down at the book.
From the corner of her eye, flames danced. Tears rolled down her cheek—born of both grief and anger. Papa…
One hand crept to her belt holster. Another promise not kept.
It was still empty.
17
Trial by Fire
APRIL 9, 7:55 P.M.
ICE STATION GRENDEL
Matt sat in his cell, having been returned at gunpoint. Oddly the boy had been left with him. The child, Maki, lay curled on the bed, in a cocoon of blankets. Perhaps the admiral had wanted the boy and his translator close by. Matt had not objected to his role as baby-sitter. At the foot of the bed, he kept vigil on the lad, watching the boy sleep, his tiny fingers curled by his lips as if in prayer.
Maki’s features were clearly Inuit: the olive complexion, the ebony hair, the brown almond eyes. As Matt watched over him, he was struck by memories of Tyler, the same dark hair and eyes, like his mother. His heart ached, beyond terror and fear, only a deep sense of loss.
“It’s hard to believe…” Dr. Ogden murmured from the neighboring cell, looking on. Matt had related the findings in Vladimir Petkov’s journal.
Matt merely nodded, unable to take his eyes from the boy.
“What I wouldn’t give to study the boy…maybe a sample of his blood.”
Matt sighed and closed his eyes. Scientists. They never lifted their noses from their research to see who was affected.
“A hormone from the grendels,” Ogden continued. “That makes sense at least. To produce the cryosuspension, it would require an immediate enzymatic cascade of the gene sequence. And skin glands would be perfect vehicles to initiate the event. The skin ices up, it triggers a hormonal release, the genes are activated through the body’s cells, glucose pours into cells to preserve them, then the body freezes. And with the grendels being mammals, their hormonal chemicals would be compatible with other mammalian species. Like insulin from cows and pigs that’s been used to treat human diabetes. The work here was ahead of its time. Brilliant, in fact.”
Matt had had enough. He swung around. “Brilliant? Are you f**king mad? Try monstrous! Do you have any idea what was done to these people? How many were killed? Goddamn it!” He pointed to Maki as he stirred. “Does that look like a damn lab rat?”
Ogden backed from the bars. “I didn’t mean to suggest—”
Matt noted the shadows under the doctor’s eyes. Ogden’s hands trembled as they dropped from the bars. Matt knew the man was as tired and frightened as any of them. He didn’t need someone yelling at him. Lowering his voice, he continued: “Someone has to take responsibility. A line has to be drawn. Science cannot ignore morality in its desire to leap forward. We all lose when that happens.”
“Speaking of losing,” Washburn said behind him, “what’s up with the Delta Force team? Can they take this place?”
Matt saw the two biology students stir at her question. It was their only hope: rescue. But he also remembered the fierce determination of Admiral Petkov. The Russian commander was not about to surrender, not even against superior forces. Matt had also noted a glint in his eyes, a cold dispassion that frightened the American more than the guns or the grendels.
Only the boy seemed to warm that edge from the man. Matt glanced at Maki. As with Vladimir Petkov, the child might hold the key to the admiral’s salvation. But such a transformation required time…time they didn’t have. Petkov was a Russian bear cornered in its den. There was nothing more dangerous—or unpredictable.
Matt turned back to Washburn. “I counted at least twelve soldiers. And the Russians have the advantage of being entrenched in here. It would take a full frontal assault to breach this place, then a bloody, brutal, level-by-level clearing.”
Magdalene spoke from her cot. “But they’ll still come, won’t they?”
Matt stared at the small number of survivors. Five of them, six if the child Maki was counted. If the Delta Force team was returning here, it was for more than just a rescue mission. Craig must have heard about the samples. The ultimate success of his mission would require obtaining them.
Washburn knew this, too. “They aren’t coming for us,” she said, answering Magdalene’s question. She met Matt’s eye. “We’re not the priority.”