Beneath the Ice (40 page)

‘Is there anything we can use as a weapon in the base?’ he asked.

Dedov shook his head. ‘This is science station. We do not keep them.’ His eyes widened then as a flash of inspiration came to him. ‘But we have some flare cartridges in hangar unit. We use them for runway emergencies.’

Luca thought about how ineffectual a flare would be against a rifle in the hands of a trained killer. It was hardly a fair fight. But they were going to have to do something as there was only so long they could hide unnoticed. Stang knew that they were somewhere in the base. It was only a matter of time before he figured it out.

Picking up one of the hundreds of carefully folded plastic bags at his feet, Luca ripped it open and checked inside. Holding the contents up to the light, it took him several seconds to realise that it was a collection of jam-jar tops that had been wrapped in tissue paper as if part of a Christmas present. He let his hand drop to his lap, allowing the contents to scatter across his thighs. For all the hundreds of bags Hiroko had collected, he was sure not one of them would be of any use.

‘We’re just going to have to make a run for it,’ he said eventually. ‘Somehow create a diversion and get down to the garaging unit. Dedov didn’t get through on the radio to the ship’s captain yet, so unless we are standing at the barrier when the boat arrives, it’ll leave without us.’

‘And without the generators, we’re fucked if we come back here,’ Katz added.

Dedov ignored the comment, instead focusing on Luca. ‘So what do you suggest?’

‘I don’t know yet, but there’s nothing for us here at GARI.’

There was silence as they all tried to think of a way out. They would have to somehow get Stang off the base or, even better, try to trap him in one of the other modules. But that meant sneaking up on a man who moved as silently as a ghost and was armed with a rifle.

Joel signalled that he wanted to speak, gently pulling away Dedov’s hand. He was still incredibly weak from having been unconscious for so long, his skin deathly pale. His eyes slowly sought Luca’s.

‘We need to get help,’ he murmured. ‘There must still be some sat phones in the radio room. They’ll have batteries and we can call . . .’

‘Call who?’ Katz countered. ‘The Ilyushin’s gone! And the nearest overwintering base is the South Africans’ at SANAE. That’s a two-hour flight and we don’t have any goddamn planes!’

Luca surged forward, grabbing Katz by the front of his jacket and dragging him close. ‘Keep your fucking voice down,’ he hissed.

Just as Joel was about to say something more, Luca heard the soft crunch of glass. He raised his hand, signalling for silence, and slowly crouched forward so that his nose was almost touching the hatch itself. He listened, straining to hear anything from the corridor below, but there was nothing. He was about to gesture to Joel to continue when he heard the faintest scrape of a boot nudging the glass carefully to one side, before pressing down its weight. Stang must be there, somewhere below them.

Then Luca saw him.

First, he saw Stang’s brawny legs inching along the corridor, then the dull grey streak of the hunting rifle. Finally, he saw his face. Stang had his chin tilted upwards as he stared out along the corridor, searching for the slightest sign of life. He glided past, moving so steadily as to be almost unnoticeable. Luca had never seen anything like it. The control was like a snake poised to strike. In that one moment he knew that Dedov was right. There was no reasoning with such a man.

The others waited, heartbeats thudding in their chests. They watched as Luca bent his head to one side and lowered it even closer to the opening. Stang had dipped out of sight and was now moving through the anterooms along the corridor, searching every last nook and cranny.

The seconds dragged by interminably, with nothing to do but wait. They had to fight every impulse to flee, knowing that if they did throw back the hatch and make a run for it, Stang would simply pick them off one by one. Even if some of them did make it past him, they would probably end up getting lost somewhere outside in the dark and simply freeze to death.

Seconds became minutes, while all around them the darkness seemed to deepen.

Katz went to move but Luca’s hand shot out, gripping him tight. Finally, there was the slightest squeak of metal as the door at the end of the corridor was opened and a soft wash of cold air ran through the base. Stang was on to the next module.

‘He’s gone,’ Luca whispered, and everyone seemed to breathe for the first time in minutes.

‘Dedov’s right. I saw his rifle. This guy’s only here for one reason.’

The Russian leant forward so that his broad face caught the light. ‘There’s nothing else for it. We’re going to have to split up.’

The four men filed along the corridor, moving as silently as they could. The glass that Luca had sprinkled now came back to haunt them and each movement was dogged by a crunching sound that seemed to reverberate across the entire module, threatening to summon Stang. But the soundproofing of the heavy doors was enough to conceal their passing and, after taking the stairs, they eventually found themselves in front of the internal door to the garaging unit.

As they entered, they felt the cold of the bare concrete walls. There were no windows and inside it was pitch black with a pervading smell of old engine oil. They groped forward with hands outstretched until they heard Dedov murmur something unintelligible before heaving open one of the tractor doors. Suddenly, the entire garage was lit up with dazzling intensity as the tractor’s halogen beams shone directly on to the metal runners of the roller door.

The garaging unit was huge, with three massive tractors parked side by side, as well as five Ski-Doos roped down by stretches of tarpaulin. In the far corner they could see the outline of the R-44 helicopter that Pearl had used. Dedov’s men had returned it to the garage before heading up to the runway and now its Perspex windscreen and long tailfin looked pathetically brittle against the heavy machinery parked either side. It would have been the perfect means of escape to the nearest science base but none of them knew how to fly.

Dedov stood on the footplate of the tractor, arm raised like an orator.

‘We drive one tractor out first,’ he said. ‘And bring it round towards the runway. There are some overwintering containers up there with radio equipment and a portable generator. Stang knows this and maybe thinks we try to reach them.’

His gaze turned towards Joel and Katz. ‘Meanwhile, others take Ski-Doo and head in opposite direction towards ice barrier.’

‘
We
drive the tractor?’ asked Luca.

Dedov stared at him for a moment. ‘I,’ he countered.

Luca moved forward. ‘But there’s no way you are going to outrun Stang in that thing. If he made it over here from the lake, then he must have a Ski-Doo parked somewhere nearby.’

‘I do not need to outrun him. I just need him to follow me.’

‘But you know that if he catches up, you won’t be safe inside the tractor.’

‘Safe?’ Dedov mocked. ‘None of us are safe. But this way, there is a chance for you.’

Luca stared at him, trying to understand the Russian’s motives. It seemed odd for him suddenly to suggest he go it alone. Was it really altruism or could he have some other reason for wanting to split up the group? Katz appeared alongside the tractor and, true to his nature, was obviously having the same doubts.

‘So why head for the runway?’ he asked, edging closer.

‘There is a big ice disturbance on the far side. Is caused by the meltwater in summer and the tractor has big enough tracks to cross over. The Ski-Doo does not and he will get stuck.’

‘That’s
if
he follows you,’ Katz pointed out.

‘If! If! If!’ Dedov repeated, slamming his fist into his palm with each word. ‘We have no time for this. Now get me the flares!’

His gaze switched to the emergency kits stacked up against the nearside wall of the garage. ‘I need two. The rest you take for yourself. Now go!’

For the moment Luca and Katz let the issue drop. They moved over to the shelving unit, slid one of the massive bags on to the floor and began spilling out its contents. There were survival rations, tents and sleeping bags, all designed to sustain a crew in case one of the DC-3 planes went down. After a moment more, Katz found the bundle of orange and yellow tubes.

‘I don’t like this,’ he whispered, pressing the flares into Luca’s hands. ‘That Russian knows something. He’s going to stab us in the back the moment those garage doors are opened.’

Luca hesitated, torn as to what to believe. He didn’t understand Dedov’s motivation, but by the same token, couldn’t see how he would gain anything by splintering off and driving up to the runway alone. Stang would surely chase the tractor and, once past the runway, where was there to go?

Moving back to the tractor, Luca passed two of the flares through the window.

‘We were straight with each other before,’ he said, staring directly into the Russian’s eyes. ‘So tell me, why are you doing this? Why not make a run for it with all of us?’

Dedov gave a faint smile. ‘Not this time, Snow Leopard. You must trust that I have my reasons. Just promise me you will tell my son about this. That I am not the one who launched the seed.’

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the old gas lighter that his own father had given him and slipped it into Luca’s hand. The brass was smooth from age and still warm from Dedov’s body heat.

‘Give him that. And whatever you say, he will know that you are telling the truth.’

Luca stared at him, knowing in that one instance that Dedov’s motives were pure. And, as he saw this gesture for what it was, Luca admired the man even more. There was no great speech or fanfare, just the quiet courage of someone prepared to go out into the dark alone.

‘I will tell him,’ Luca promised.

‘Now, get ready,’ Dedov ordered, jamming the key into the ignition.

Luca moved across to the nearby Ski-Doos. They were going to have to move fast if they were to have any real chance of escape. Stripping back the tarpaulin, he checked the fuel levels while, behind him, Katz and Joel did the same.

‘Open it up,’ Dedov called out, and Luca strode back towards the main garage door. Clicking down the manual override, he gripped the cold metal runners and was just about to heave them upwards when a sudden premonition hit him. He could picture Stang waiting beyond the metal door, his monstrous silhouette framed against the dark snow.

‘Now!’ Dedov shouted, turning the key and triggering the engine into life. The whole garage echoed to the roar of the engine and the grinding of cogs. He slammed the gear lever into first. It was too late for Luca to procrastinate any longer. As soon as he heaved the door up, Dedov sent the colossal machine charging out of the garage and into the snow.

The others stood motionless, watching the tractor lights quickly fade. Only the remnants of the diesel fumes hung in the freezing air.

The barrier was five hours away and Dedov would have bought them only so much time.

THE TRACTOR POWERED
on, sending vibrations rattling through the interior of the cabin. Up ahead, Dedov could see the dark landscape illuminated in the tunnel vision of the headlights. He peered out towards the horizon, searching for the next in a long line of wooden markers that ran from GARI all the way to the runway.

The noise of the tractor’s engine was so loud that it took a while before he even realised he was being followed. Winding down the window, he felt the freezing air wash into the cabin and looked out. About fifty yards behind, he could see the single beam of a Ski-Doo travelling in his wake, light blurred from the haze of snow churning up from his rear tracks.

‘Come on, you son of a whore!’ Dedov shouted. He had his foot stamped down on the accelerator, red-lining the throttle, yet the speedometer only registered twenty-eight kilometres an hour. He gave a snort, the sound originating from somewhere deep within his throat, at the sheer insanity of it all. This must be the slowest vehicle chase in history.

Slamming his fist down on the steering wheel, Dedov urged the tractor on with a string of Russian expletives. Then, from over his shoulder, he saw the Ski-Doo venture closer. It sniped forward, easily accelerating past the lumbering tractor, until the two drivers were level. There was the unmistakable outline of Stang. His shoulders were hunched bearlike over the handlebars while his head was turned, staring directly at the Russian.

As their eyes met Dedov swung the steering wheel, sending the tractor careering to the left. The great machine bore down on the Ski-Doo but with a touch of the brakes Stang dipped back, disappearing somewhere behind the tractor’s rear end. A second later he re-emerged, but this time with rifle raised.

There was a sharp crack, the noise of the rifle barely audible over the combined roar of the engines, before Stang reloaded and aimed again. He was no more than five feet away from the side of the tractor, drifting in so close that, through the fog of ground snow, the beams of their headlamps merged as one.

Just as Stang heaved the muzzle of his rifle up, Dedov sent the tractor pitching towards him once again, missing the front tracks of the Ski-Doo by only a few inches. He pulled back, craning his face against the side glass to peer down at his adversary, when the entire window exploded. The bullet smashed through to the interior of the cabin in a spray of splintered glass, sending fragments searing into the left side of Dedov’s face. He cried out in pain as the tractor swerved wildly and ran off the ice road.

There was a violent dip, then the machine skidded across a patch of raw ice. Its massive tracks slipped, failing to gain any purchase, until the whole machine was nearly side on to the direction of travel. On it went across the icefield, before finally smashing into a snow bank on the opposite side. As it hit, the entire tractor listed over, nearly toppling completely and sending Dedov crashing across the inside of the cabin. His chest smashed into the dashboard opposite, driving the wind out of him.