and supporters. Most of the time, we’ve been at loggerheads with them. If we do anything except make a full-out push on the search for survivors, the Greenpeace advocates who haunt the halls of Congress will claim that the United States military left them out to die. No one will ever question why they were up there in the first place in a boat not well suited for those waters, or whether some fault on their part led to this tragedy. Instead, it will become all our fault. The military is the favorite punching bag for every problem in the world these days. Someday soon, I expect to see the Navy blamed for crime in the streets and welfare problems.”
“That’s not fair,” Pamela said sharply. “Many of the things I’ve reported on were the United States Navy’s fault. The problems with women on ships, the death of that aviator — don’t tell me that some of these weren’t caused by the Navy pushing through unqualified people.”
“We’ve had our problems, true,” Tombstone acknowledged. “But no more than any large organization. You’re talking about somewhere around half a million people — the United States Navy is a huge organization, Pamela. You’re going to get some bad apples in it. There’s no way to screen them all out.”
“So you’re saying this search for survivors is primarily politically motivated?” She shook her head. “The Tombstone I knew ten years ago wouldn’t have seen it that way.”
“And the Pamela I knew ten years ago wouldn’t have blind-sided me in a press conference like you did yesterday,” he shot back angrily.
She stood. “I guess this concludes this off-the-record interview, doesn’t it? And it’s still the same old thing. You and the Navy, that’s all you ever think about.”
He gazed at her, feeling the sense of familiarity and longing wash out of him. “I guess it is, Miss Drake,” he said softly. “But just remember — you’re the one who said it first.”
The Spetsnaz stuffed the four holes bored into the ice with plastic to keep out the blowing ice and snow. That accomplished, the commander ordered them out into a surveillance patrol. The men split up into their two-man teams and began a careful survey of their temporary home.
The island itself was twenty miles long and five miles wide, and was one of the smaller outcroppings of the Aleutian chain. Two men headed west, examining the first plain that led down to the water. The other two headed east, climbing gear in hand, and set out to explore the ragged crust of ice that formed the upper boundary of the island.
The first half mile was relatively easy going, and they needed no more equipment than their hands to ascend the steadily increasing slope. After that, however, their progress was broken up by the need to set pitons in the jagged surface and relay up the slopes one after the other. While climbing it freestyle without the aid of ropes and climbing gear was well within their capabilities, their commander had cautioned them that they were to take no chances. With only five men on the island until reinforcements arrived, casualties were completely unacceptable.
After a brief discussion, the two Spetsnaz commandos headed for the highest peak they could find, a promontory that jutted nine hundred feet above sea level. They spent the better part of an hour climbing it, checking along each stage of the way to make sure their tie-off points and ropes were set securely in the ice. Another time of year, any slight warming might have rendered the surface prone to crumbling, but in December the surface was as hard as rock.
“You see anything?” the lead climber asked his companion.
The second man shook his head. “No. Not a damned thing could survive out here, not without the kind of gear we carry.”
The other man nodded agreement. “Always better to check, though,” he remarked.
“Well, we’ve done that.” He shivered slightly as the wind picked up, gusting and keening between the sharp crags. “Let’s get back down and report.”
Suddenly, the other man shook his head and pointed out at the ocean. Since the wind had died down, the swells and breakers pounding against the island had dropped down to four to five feet each. Marching across the ocean in sets of seven, each breaker was flecked with white and capped with a thin froth of foam, the twenty-knot wind still kicking up whitecaps. “Look over there.”
The second man raised his binoculars and trained them in the direction his companion pointed. He swore quietly. “If I hadn’t seen it-“
The first man grunted. “Commander isn’t going to like this.” He trained his own binoculars in that direction.
Perhaps two miles offshore, a small boat plowed through the waves, obviously bound for their island. “Where the hell did they come from?”
The other man shrugged. “One of the other islands, I guess. Though why the hell they’d bother to come here, I don’t know. Nothing to eat.”
“Maybe they’re just fishing.”
His companion shook his head. “I don’t think so. They’ve got some gear on board, but they’re not maneuvering like a fishing boat would. Look, they’re headed straight for us.”
The other man sighed. “We wait for them to come ashore and take them out, or we go back and report?”
“Let’s radio back for instructions. I think I know what the boss is going to want, but let’s double-check. You know what he told us.”
The other man grinned wolfishly. “Yes. No survivors.”
“What do you mean, natives?” Rogov demanded.
“Just what I said. My men have detected a small boat with approximately six people on board, inbound this location. Unless directed otherwise, I intend to eliminate these complications. Your orders?” The Spetsnaz commander’s voice was harsh and broken over the speaker. The Kilo was moving at steerageway just barely below the surface of the ocean, her antenna poking up above the surface for a scheduled communications break with the team ashore.
Rogov paused, staring at the microphone, then swore quietly. The key to executing this mission successfully required no interference from outside sources. At the very least, if the natives landed, they would be witnesses. They must be Inuits or Aleuts, or one of the many other bands of native Alaskans that roamed the waters between the islands, foraging from the sea and living as they had for centuries on the desolate islands. Since the Oscar had eliminated the prying Greenpeace intruders, that was the only possible explanation. From what the Spetsnaz commander had said, the boat was too small to attempt trans-Pacific voyages. Therefore, it had to have come from one of the other islands.
He paused and considered his options. Sinking the Greenpeace boat had been accomplished silently and stealthily with a submarine, and there was no evidence left behind to betray the mission. But Inuits — somebody might miss them, and one of the other isolated islands might have contact with the mainland. Finally, he reached a decision. “Avoid them if possible. If you are observed or if they come ashore, take them hostage. We’ll consider other options at a later time.”
“Very well.”
“And I will be joining you ashore tomorrow morning.” He glanced over at the Kilo’s executive officer, who was watching him with a faintly hopeful look on his face. “The Kilo will remain offshore to provide assistance as needed.”
He hung up the microphone abruptly, knowing that the Spetsnaz commander understood exactly what the phrase “other options” meant.
The executive officer didn’t. If he had, he would have known that no Cossack ever left an untrustworthy officer at his back.
CHAPTER 5
