ANTARCTIC FIRE: A Harry Crook Thriller - Conspiracy in the Antarctic

by Chris Geater

  Is there a fourth?

  When I didn't answer he stood, nodded to the men who fortunately removed the concrete post then left through a door behind me turning the lights off. Cold worked its way into the core, my foot and bottom rested on the concrete floor, combined with a bare head released much of my diminishing body heat. There was little pain in my foot as the cold produced a numbness that was both a relief and an extreme danger. The burnt flesh was even more susceptible to frostbite due to reduced blood flow around the damaged skin. My hands were also numb mainly from the zip ties but I could move them and feel the cold bench legs. My hands slid down the steel leg to the floor where it was bolted. I felt around with my feet and managed to reach the discarded fur hat. It slid easily across the iced floor where the water and urine had frozen. With a flick of my foot it landed close to my hands but not close enough. My body spun easily on the steel leg and the hat came within reach. Feeling the concealed knife in the soft leather and fur was easy enough but the dexterity required to extract the blade and use it seemed beyond me. Eventually my hand came in contact with the cold steel of my Ka-Bar and it slid out of its pouch and into my hand. Using the floor as leverage I managed to manoeuvre the blade around to a spot where it could cut the zip tie.

  Pain shot up my forearms as the circulation returned and full minutes passed before they were capable of freeing my legs. The pain prevented me from crawling around the floor looking for my sock and boot, so I rolled. Every time my bare foot hit something I cried out, the pain was unbearable. My sock evaded me but I found the boot easily enough and with much panting and groaning pulled it over my damaged foot before securing it with the laces and velcro straps. The pain increased as warmth crept into my foot which was a good sign but debilitating to mobility. I crawled back to the bench and used it to pull my self up. A little shuffling and groping recovered the gloves and with balaclava back in place my body temperature began to stabilise.

  Armed with the long nasty cane and one trusty Ka-Bar held in tingly numb hands I wrestled open the door against the raging of an Antarctic storm in full throat. Some sort of shelter or portico appeared through the soup and I limped in that general direction. The walls and roof provided some relief from the storm but revealed two guards sitting in one corner around a vent blowing hot air. Our surprise was mutual and momentary. They stood in unison, their smiling faces filled with confidence, both weapons left leaning against the wall. One moved to the right and one to the left, their intention to have fun at my expense quite obvious. Drop, roll, razor sharp Ka-bar sliced through the boot and Achilles tendon of one guard. The other guard, now less confident turned and went for his sub-machine gun. He was too quick for me and turned to fire, I braced my body for the impact.

  The Chinese version of the old AK47 although capable weapons and very robust obviously found long exposure to extreme low temperatures not to their liking, it misfired. As he fiddled with it, panic appearing on his face I picked up the long cane and swung it into his down-turned face. He cried out in pain and dropped the useless weapon. Now you know how it feels. He bent to retrieve it, people who can only fight when they are armed are useless without a gun of some sort and tend to hide behind it. In my original training at Swan Island we were taught not to be reliant on a weapon but to use our hands and feet and view a weapon as a bonus. I loved a good shoot out and lets face it, my Baby was able to hold its own against most but hand to hand was a skill that proved essential on more than one occasion. I brought the Ka-bar up under his chin at an angle and it entered deep into the soft tissue behind the jaw paralysing his epiglottis. This little flap of tissue prevents food and liquid from entering our windpipe. Once paralysed and bleeding from the wound, there is no way of preventing blood from entering the lungs, he began to drown.

  I stood in front of the warm vent soaking up the sensuous heat into my body. It took some time to find my bearings and get to the small frozen lake. More a machine than a human I eventually stumbled into the entrance to Progress accommodation and fell onto one of the Russians who was about to exit. He called me names and then saw the frozen blood on my jacket. I rolled off him and onto the floor, he ran off the get help as I passed out.

  Two sensations crept up on me as consciousness returned, warmth and a beeping sound. The peace and serenity, floating yet prone on a soft bed, eyes shut for fear of breaking the spell. Eventually they opened, a shaved head sitting astride a white coat looked down upon me, dripping and beeping accoutrements sat to my left, the head on a coat to my right.

  A morphine induced silly grin grew out each side of my mouth. “I’m alive and happy,” said the silly grin. The head just shook and walked off. The small room surrounded with medical instruments and supplies moved slightly as I looked around. The morphine hovered as the effects receded accompanied by an increased pain in my right foot. The bed sheet rustled as I instructed my foot to move, just checking, didn't want to think that head-on-a-coat got carried away with the bone saw.

  Another head appeared only scowling and sitting on a grey roll-neck sweater.

  “Hurry, this propensity for going where you should not, this needs to stop,” Len my old mate growled as my innocent face stared back.

  “I'm not doing too bad thanks Len, could be better but Russian medicine is what it is.”

  “This is not laughing matter, some serious crime, no control from you had caused much chaos, even more than usual.”

  “I was just looking around, you should be pleased. Let me tell you what I saw.”

  “Maybe later Hurry but there are injured and dead Chinese scientists, our neighbours accuse you of murder and theft, they want justice.”

  “Scientists? Ha, second-rate military guards. And as for justice, isn't torture and interrogation illegal here in the Antarctic, or anywhere for that matter?”

  “Torture? They make you go without morning coffee? Make you rise from your mattress before nine o’clock in morning? Or you refer to slight foot abrasion?”

  I hold no grudge against the Colonel at Zhongshan, his was a tricky operation in a seriously remote region with unforgiving masters sitting in Beijing. I’ve been known to do worse and Len more so. My frustration came from knowing there was more to their operation than appeared. Something was afoot yet my mate Len didn't seem all that interested.

  “I will let you rest, we talk soon. Rest good Hurry Crook,” Len walked off, he genuinely wasn't happy, unusual considering. The Progress boys knocked off a couple of Chinese only a few weeks ago and he seemed indifferent, now he’s singing in the church choir.

  The medical treatment here at Progress left nothing to be desired, my body recovered and soon I was limping around in good spirits. Len and Andrey spent a few hours debriefing me in the cafe over coffee and vodka, the information regarding the various vehicles held within the Zhongshan building were of particular interest to them.

  Andrey took notes. “Maybe you could draw these large machines, help us see them?” he suggested.

  I drew a rough sketch of the large vehicles from the first shed and of the second building where I was captured by those mechanics wielding nasty 9mm. Andrey slid the two sketches across the table and turned them around. Taking a pencil from his pocket he drew a large turret and barrel sticking out from the side of the turret. Immediately the image took on the familiar shape of a tank, a special unusual polar design but couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

  “Well, there you go Len, not a bad recce after all,” I said.

  He nodded, “Not such a good thing, formidable hardware to bring to a science party.”

  “Zhongshan motives reveal themselves,” Andrey commented as he shook his head. “How many do you think, of these tanks?”

  “Thirty, forty, various stages of assembly. Maybe more if the other building houses them as well.”

  Veodore came and sat next to Andrey, he spoke to his two fellow Russians in their language, “No go my friends, Wu-Dang is insistent.”

  “Colonel Wu-Dang?” I asked al
so speaking in Russian. Everybody looked surprised except Len.

  “All this time you speak Russian yet you say nothing?” Andrey asked. “Certainly no safety man.”

  I ignored his question, “What about Wu-Dang?” I returned to English.

  “He is not happy, wants justice. He assumes you made your way here,” Veodore replied.

  “What’s all this justice talk? What about how they treated me, not exactly justice to burn a blokes foot off.”

  “You know the Chinese Hurry,” Len said. “Black and white in their approach, we have seen this before, you didn't expect them to make cup of tea and discuss weather patterns? You took risk, you were lucky, luckier than many who fall into hands of men like Wu-Dang.”

  “Let him stew, you owe him nothing,” I said dismissively.

  “This we would be willing to do, however the works now have a spanner in them,” Len replied.

  “Spanner?”

  “In retaliation to your discreet walk on their base, two of our senior scientists are abducted, Colonel Wu-Dang will not return them.”

  Spanner indeed. I knew where this might lead but my suspicions were allayed by my faith in Len.

  “You have made the necessary protests, your people to the Chinese?” I asked.

  “We are in process, diplomatic channels take time.”

  “Time? Surely you’re kicking up a hell of a stink, these guys can't do this type of thing and get away with it.”

  “Sensitive situation Hurrie. You were guest of Progress while you declared war on Republic if China, situation more complex, may take time.”

  Confident that I had seen an Alpha Group emblem on one of the jackets here I said, “You have capable men here surely, why not wander over and retrieve your men?”

  “Hurry, every problem can not be answered with bigger canon,” Len retorted.

  I couldn't see the problem, worked for me, I was a big fan of escalation.

  My phone call to Smurf was not full of the usual banter and intelligence. Instead it was a stark reminder that we were dealing with foreign identities who would stop at nothing to achieve their aims. For starters, Smurf called me from the Royal Albert Hospital in Sydney where he was recovering from a bullet wound to his right ear and a nasty bullet graze to his head causing some concussion. Not so unusual if he were operating in some middle eastern country, almost inevitable in my experience. This occurred in his office, Paddington, Sydney.

  Late the previous afternoon while Smurf wrapped up his day and the only other occupant, Ben a former CID inspector completed a report, a man and women of Asian appearance crept up the stairs to the third floor. Not seeing Ben behind his carpeted partition they raced into Smurf’s office, hand guns with suppressors aimed at his heart. Smurf became aware of their intentions to take him with them by their yelling loudly ‘you come with us now’ repeated often and with increasing volume.

  Ben took hold of his Glock 19, he literally never left home without it, and crept out from behind his petition. His challenge caught the two interlopers by surprise. One spun opening fire as he turned while the other sent two 9mm in Smurfs direction. Fortunately for Smurf he headed for the floor as soon as Ben gave the challenge so the damage was minimal. Unfortunately for the uninvited guests Ben was a first rate shot and dispatched both with double taps to the upper left torso. Bad luck for Smurf, one of the antagonists bullets took a chunk out of his scalp while one of Ben’s exited the females body at a funny angle, probably ricocheted off a rib, and took a corner of his ear off, friendly fire as they say in the classics. This bit of information didn't make it into the police report.

  “So who were they Charles, Chinese Embassy, tourists, did you forget to pay your bill at the Golden Dragon?”

  “Chinese nationals here on a questionable visa and from what we understand, only arrived a few days ago and potentially as a plan ‘B’.”

  I didn't like to be the centre of attention when it comes to international incidents and this was heading in that exact direction.

  “Plan ‘B’? As in, if I didn't hand myself into the Chinese here in exchange for the two scientists your kidnapping would be an extra incentive?”

  “Quite. Apparently Wu-Dang took your activities rather personally, as a civilian it places you in an awkward position.”

  “A civilian under instructions Charles, don’t forget. Lets not play the old deniability game. I was at Progress by your instructions, instructions that came from presumably our government.”

  “I agree, you were at Progress surreptitiously. I just can't seem to remember where I instructed you to venture into Zhongshan during a blizzard, gather intelligence, kill and maim members of the Peoples Liberation Army then return to Progress like you just played eighteen holes at the Royal Melbourne.” His tone bothered me.

  “I couldn't resist Charles, it was too much. These guys at Zhongshan were begging for someone to check them out, all that activity, mystery, what could I do? You know I'm not good at saying no to that sort of thing, you shouldn't have put me in such a position of temptation.”

  “You’re a professional Harris, you obey the brief, stick to the essentials, I find the hole and send you down, Zhongshan was not the hole.”

  I didn't like this. Smurf knew me, he knew I would find it hard to resist a little recce into our neighbours turf. Now he’s talking like he’s surprised. Sure I received a little damage and sure some of their people were also damaged but that's the way it works out sometimes, the play doesn't always go to script.

  “You’re making me sound like a criminal Charles, tell me that isn't what you are thinking.”

  “Technically Harris, and in the eyes of the Chinese, Russians and especially our people, you are.”

  “What about in your eyes Charles? Is that how you see me?” My voice very crisp.

  Charles even crisper. “I don’t know how I can see it any other way.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The weather eased sufficiently for Natalie to travel over using the Davis chopper on the pretext that, as the base Doctor she would need to carry out an examination and report back to Steve my condition. She seemed both worried and pissed off, used terms of endearment like idiot, cavalier, irresponsible and other similar love language but I don’t think her heart was in it somehow. She informed me that Steve was at wits end and the leadership in Hobart were resigning left right and centre in their efforts to deny responsibility for me and my actions.

  “I requested some more information about you Harry, from that friend of mine who works in the section that looks after that sort of thing.”

  “Checking up on me again Natalie? That’s sweet,a little obsessive but sweet. Good read was it?”

  “Wanted to make sure I wasn't getting into something uncomfortable, I’ve had enough of psychopathic men in my life, didn't want another one.”

  “You need to date men outside of the industry, you know we are only recruited based on our indifference to death and destruction.”

  “Maybe in your day. Now recruitment is based on a persons intelligence, ability to be discreet, sensible initiative, you know, modern thoughts.”

  I shook my head. “That must be disappointing for our counterparts in the Middle East.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, makes you fair game, too easy, no challenge. Sensible initiative is just the sort of thing you need when a bearded bloke in a white robe starts yelling about how great his god is and lets go of the dead-mans switch in his hand. If you’re not too worried about sensibilities or some office based performance report you would have shot him ten minutes prior just based on the fact that he looked suspicious, a reasonable course of action in my book, may pay off.”

  “You see, that is exactly what I was looking for in the file of your activities. Even though it was redacted to the extreme, the picture painted of your career left me feeling that maybe you should be incarcerated somewhere, not left alone to operate autonomously in some remote region.”

  “Not
a fair assessment, you can see that I am a normal bloke just making a living, looking for love, wanting to settle down, perfectly normal.”

  “Not perfectly normal Harry. You end up a prisoner in an Antarctic station run by the Chinese military and manned by their equivalent of special forces. They torture you, you escape during a blizzard by killing one of their men with your bare hands, well almost, and then wander home to Progress as if you’ve been for a Sunday walk. That is not the behaviour of a normal man. A normal man wouldn't be in that situation and if he was he would probably die of several heart attacks before they even pulled his boots off.

  “Well, extreme circumstance call for extreme measures. Surprising what you can do in an emergency when the adrenalin is flowing.”

  “Harry, you are an extreme measure. Your standard operating procedure is now known as ‘extreme measures’. The rule book in the department has a chapter called ‘In the Event of World War Three Refer to Crooks Extreme Measures’.”

  “Do they? Thats flattering.”

  “No Harry, they don’t, but they should.”

  Progress appeared all the much brighter for her presence, she was caring and good company, my recuperation knew no bounds. Despite this, restlessness set in and even though the good Doctor told me to keep off my feet, I wondered around the large main building in between reading, watching re-runs of Russian soaps and interacting with Natalie. One morning I wandered past an office, the door slightly ajar. I heard Len and Veodore discussing something that included the name Crook. Standing as close as I could the discussion that sent a chill up my spine went along these lines: