have known what he knew now: The Cossacks were coming.
CHAPTER 8
The fast craft skimmed over the top of the waves, acting almost like a hovercraft as it shot over the surface of the water. Sea state 2 consisted of mild swells without white tops, and Carter had the throttle slammed full forward. But even small swells act like a roller coaster at eighty knots.
“No sign of activity,” Sikes shouted, struggling to be heard over the noise of the sea and the wind in the boat. “May be a false alarm.”
The chief shook his head. “Doubtful. I don’t know, sir, but there usually aren’t too many of those. Not if they’re sending us in.”
Sikes nodded and gave up. It was all he could do to hold on to his lunch in the boat, and a lengthy political discussion was out of the question.
Ahead, the island jutted out of the sea like a fortress. The West end was relatively flat, climbing sharply into jagged peaks and spires. He studied the landscape, wondering if they’d brought enough pitons and line. Climbing up that icy moonscape would challenge every bit of their physical reserves. And the danger; he considered it grimly. Intruders — if indeed there were any on the island — could be hiding behind any spire, waiting silently for the SEALs to make their approach. The tactical advantage would be theirs. The only way to achieve any degree of tactical surprise would be to airlift in with a helicopter, and even that would be problematic. First, the noise of the helicopter would alert their prey, and second, even the most reliable aircraft developed odd quirks and problems in the frigid environment. No, he decided, on balance it was better that they go in by boat, even with the problems that patrolling the jagged cliffs presented.
Fifty feet off the coast, now blindingly reflective under the afternoon sun, Carter slowed the boat to twenty knots. He turned broadside to the island, carefully making his way toward the westernmost tip. The plan was to begin their sweep there, working slowly toward the cliffs, postponing the decision to climb until they were closer in. If nothing else, it would give them time to adjust to the realities of arctic patrolling.
Five minutes later, the fast boat edged up to the ice, the SEAL stationed in the bow carefully surveying the water beneath her hull for obstructions. When the bow bumped gently against the shore, he jumped out, pulling the bowline behind him. Two other SEALs followed. As the first order of business, they drove a piton into the hard- packed ice to provide a mooring point for the boat. One of them would stay behind and stand guard while the other four executed the patrol in pairs of two.
Sikes was the last one out of the boat. After the gale-force winds that traveling at eighty knots generated, the almost calm air felt warmer. An illusion, he knew. Unprotected, skin and tissue would freeze within a matter of seconds. He checked the lookout SEAL carefully, making sure his gear was in order, then pirouetted 360 degrees while the other man returned the favor. Satisfied that they were as well equipped against the environment as they could be, Sikes made a sharp hand motion. Without a word, one SEAL joined on him, while the fifth SEAL and Huerta stepped away together. With one last sharp nod to the lookout, Sikes pointed northeast. They took off at a steady, energy-conserving walk.
The ice under his feet was rough, the surface edged in tiny nooks and crannies from the ever-constant wind. A light dusting of snow blew along the surface, swirling around their ankles and obscuring the uneven surface. Still, he reflected, it was better than winter ice in the States, where intermittent warming and refreezing turned the surface slick as glass. Here, at least there was enough traction to walk. Just as well, since he couldn’t see the ice beneath his feet for the blowing snow. His partner moved forward and took point. Sikes followed five yards behind, carefully surveying the landscape. After a few moments, it became apparent there was not much to see. The land was featureless, except for the jagged peaks ahead of them, and any traces of human habitation had been swept away by the wind. He glanced to the north, where he could barely make out the figures of the other two SEALS.
The wind picked up slightly, and he noticed the difference. It crept around the edges of his face mask, trying to find some purchase in the lining or some overlooked gap in his clothing. He could feel the heat rising off his skin as he walked, felt the air sucking at it.
The point man stopped suddenly. He pointed and made a motion to Sikes. Sikes moved forward until he was standing by the man. “What was it?”
“Don’t know for sure — something dark green, blowing in the wind. In this wind, it was gone before I could get a good look at it. Man-made, though — definitely.”
Sikes lifted the radio to his mouth and quickly briefed the other group and the lookout on the sighting. Even after a few moments of standing still, he could feel his muscles start to tighten as the cold seeped in.
Every sense heightened, adrenaline pounding through his veins and further exacerbating the heat loss, he motioned for the other man to begin again. There was no more chance that this was a false alarm. Whatever the man had seen — and he had no doubt that the man had seen something — this patrol was now tactical instead of practice.
“Sikes just radioed in that they’ve seen something,” Batman said into the receiver. “Whoever’s taken up residence there and decided to start shooting at our aircraft isn’t so hot of a housekeeper. Still, the island’s supposed to be deserted. If they hadn’t taken a shot at our aircraft, we probably never would have known they were there.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Admiral Magruder’s voice responded. “There’s that radio report from the Inuits.”
“And who would have suspected it?” Batman mused. “Some Aleutian Islander with a radio sees something strange and decides to call in the Navy.”
“Not so strange as you might think,” Tombstone responded. His voice took on a reflective note. “I wonder if it’s the same — no, couldn’t be. He’d have to be pushing seventy years old by now.”
“Who?” Batman asked, confused by Tombstone’s apparent change of subjects.
“Probably nothing,” Tombstone answered. “But years ago, when my uncle was still involved in Special Forces projects, he spent some time out on those islands. We were in the middle of the Cold War, and maintaining the integrity of our homeland was a lot bigger issue than it is today.”
“Vice Admiral Magruder on a field trip to the Aleutians?” Batman snorted. “I’d like to see that.”
“He wasn’t always a vice admiral,” Tombstone answered dryly. “At the time, I believe he was a lieutenant commander. He told me the story a couple of times, how he went out to the islands, met some of the native tribes, studied their survival techniques. At the time, we were still in our infancy on cold weather tactics. Some bright mind in the Pentagon decided that the best way to shorten the learning curve was to study people that have centuries of experience at it. My uncle’s always been an avid skier and camper, so somebody figured he was perfect for the job.”
“How long did he spend there?”
“Three months. He visited five major islands, including one of the largest ones near the end of the chain. And that’s the odd thing — he met an old fellow there, an Inuit who was considered the leader of the tribe. At first, they weren’t too interested in talking, but my uncle managed to make friends with him somehow. It had something to do with killing a polar bear, though I never got all the details. Anyway, this old fellow decided my uncle was okay. They came to some sort of understanding about the Russians, although I gather the Inuit wasn’t nearly as concerned as my uncle was. He said he left the man some high-tech radio gear — high-tech for that era, anyway — along with a list of standard tactical frequencies. From what my uncle says, they’ve had a couple of reports from them over the years, although I doubt that there’s been anything for the last decade or so.”
“And this fella is still alive, you think? And the radio’s still working?” Batman asked incredulously.
“You got the report, didn’t you?” Tombstone pointed out. “Besides, this fellow might have handed on the
