Fast Ice

by Clive Cussler

  Out in the grass, Ryland’s men pulled their vehicles to a halt near the edge of the granite outcropping. The lead vehicle was an open-top jeep sporting a roll bar and no doors. The other vehicles pulled up beside it, two SUVs and a flatbed truck.

  A man in the passenger’s seat of the jeep stood up, poking his head and shoulders above the roll bar. He surveyed the terrain with a night vision scope, scanning back and forth.

  Kurt whispered to Joe. “This might be our chance to get some wheels.”

  “Sounds a lot safer than running through the Wild Kingdom on foot.”

  Kurt climbed from his spot and went up, reaching the crest of the rock pile. From there, he moved in the direction of the parked vehicles, hoping they’d stay where they were until he got to the edge.

  As Kurt and Joe moved in silence, the lions began to roar. Out on the grass, the dominant male made a false charge, his huge maned head tilting back and up as he bellowed at the hyenas. The other males followed suit.

  The hyenas looked hesitant, but they didn’t retreat. They were not small animals themselves and they outnumbered the encroaching lions almost two to one. They gathered themselves together in a defensive pack, answering back in a series of barks and yips that sounded like mocking laughter.

  “Don’t they know this isn’t a laughing matter,” Joe whispered as he crawled up beside Kurt.

  “Apparently, they can’t read the room,” Kurt said. He eased forward, soon reaching the precipice of the rocks. Stopping there, he studied their options.

  The rock formation descended in distinct steps—a six-foot drop from the top to an intermediate ledge that would take them closer to the stopped vehicles, then a ten-foot drop to the ground.

  The four vehicles were parked close together. One of two Toyotas was tucked in close to the ledge, beyond which was the flatbed, then the jeep, then the second Toyota.

  “We should go for the jeep,” Joe suggested.

  The jeep would be easy to get into, with no doors and an open top. But there was a problem. It was the third in the line of four vehicles.

  “We could loop around,” Kurt said. “Or—”

  Before Kurt could finish his sentence, a pack of hyenas charged forward, four in the middle, two more on the right flank. They raced toward the dominant lion, swarming toward him from both sides.

  The big animal reared back and knocked two of them down with a single swipe of his great paw. As those animals tumbled away, the lion lunged toward a third. At the same moment, one of the hyenas snapped at the lion’s hind legs. As teeth caught skin, the lion jumped and spun, chasing the hyena that had bitten him.

  The smaller animals were quicker and healthier. They raced off cackling as if they’d played a trick on the big cat. Even as they left, other hyenas raced in.

  The lion was suddenly on the defensive, spinning, roaring defiantly and snapping his jaws at anything in range as he tried to defend himself from all quarters.

  For a moment, it looked like a game, with the hyenas racing around the lion and the larger beast swatting at them, always a step too slow or a split second too late. But the rest of the pride came on suddenly, six more lions charging forward at once, and what had been a playful and interesting encounter took on the look of a vicious brawl.

  Some of the hyenas ran, others returned to the fight. In seconds, it became a confused, dust-obscured melee. All of it caught in the glare of the headlights.

  “This is our chance,” Kurt said.

  He dropped to the intermediate ledge and ran forward. Instead of jumping to the ground, he leapt off the precipice and landed square on the roof of the first Toyota, denting it and dropping to one knee. Standing up, stepping forward and leaping, he landed in the flatbed, which gave him the perfect runway on which to gather speed and launch himself toward the jeep.

  Leaping high enough, he was able to grab the roll bar, vault over it like a gymnast and swing his legs forward.

  His feet connected with the surprised gamekeeper, who took a boot to the face and went flying out onto the grass.

  The driver flinched, looked back at Kurt and instinctively stomped on the gas.

  The tires dug in and the vehicle surged forward. Kurt fell backward, grabbing the bar to keep himself from falling out. Collecting himself, he sprung forward and put the driver in a headlock.

  The driver struggled and clawed at Kurt with one hand while jerking the steering wheel from side to side with the other. Stretching to get leverage, the man kept the accelerator pedal pinned to the floor.

  The jeep raced off into the night, swerving and threatening to tip over. From the corner of his eye, Kurt saw one of the lions flash past them. He then saw a pair of hyenas scattering in opposite directions.

  Needing to end the ride quickly, Kurt reached for the gearshift and jammed it down into low.

  The jeep slowed instantly. Between Kurt’s weight and the sudden decrease in speed, the driver was thrown forward. Kurt slammed the man’s head against the steering wheel. It whiplashed back, the driver looking dazed and confused.

  Kurt grabbed the wheel, turned hard to the right and pushed the man the opposite way. The jeep whipped into another turn and the driver went out the opening where the door should have been.

  Straightening up, Kurt hopped into the front seat, put the jeep back into drive and got the ride under control. He swerved around a small tree and dodged a piano-sized boulder before turning back in the direction he’d come.

  “Now,” he said to himself, “time to find out what happened to Joe.”

  25

  Joe had been left behind. He’d watched Kurt from the ledge and saw him hopscotch his way across the parked vehicles like they were stepping-stones. Joe figured if Kurt could do it, he could make it look easy.

  He jumped from the ledge, landing deftly on the roof of the nearby Toyota. He leapt from there to the flatbed and raced forward, just as Kurt had, launching himself into a perfect jump, high and long, with a soft landing envisioned. But the jeep surged forward just as Joe took to the air. He fell short, managing to grasp only the tailgate as the vehicle sped off.

  He held tight and tried to pull himself up, but as the jeep swerved and bounced over the uneven terrain he was thrown loose.

  Ending up in the tall grass, in the dark, Joe held still.

  The flatbed and the Toyotas were heading his way. One of them stopped to pick up the fallen gamekeeper while the others continued on. They passed Joe without pause, swerving off to the left and chasing after Kurt and the stolen jeep.

  Joe emerged as the red taillights grew more distant and the dust cleared. Staying low, he looked around, painfully aware of the lions and hyenas circling and fighting a short distance away.

  “All things considered, I’d rather be on a frozen, sinking ship,” he muttered.

  His only hope now was to make a run for the fence. He moved cautiously at first, so as not to attract attention. Once he’d put some distance between himself and the animals, he chose a direction that would take him away from the lions, the hyenas and the vehicles chasing Kurt. Satisfied with his choice, he took off at a sprint once again.

  Joe took his own advice and didn’t look back. He raced away from the commotion, heading toward a darker and quieter section of the park. He passed a row of scrub bushes, hopped over a small pipeline and continued on.

  He saw the fence up ahead—it was no more than a hundred yards away—but the lights of another vehicle had come onto the scene. It was moving down a frontage road this side of the fence.

  Forced to stop, Joe crouched in the bushes. “There’s an awful lot of car traffic in this so-called wildlife preserve.”

  The approaching vehicle continued down the access road, passing him. He recognized it as Ryland’s six-wheeled Mercedes. It looked like the head man had come out to lead the hunt in person.

  As Joe watched, the M
ercedes slowed and began a wide turn back in his direction.

  Not wanting to be spotted, Joe took a step. He froze at the sound of a hyena coming up behind him.

  Turning slowly, Joe saw the animal was injured and favoring one leg. A second animal trotted along beside it. They stopped, having picked up Joe’s scent. A low growl issued from one of the animals.

  Out on the frontage road, the Mercedes had finished its turn and was coming back his way. The swath of its headlights covered Joe and the hyenas.

  “If I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.”

  With the animals squinting against the blinding light, Joe figured this was his chance. He took off, dashing toward the fence, without looking back.

  The hyenas hesitated, bothered by the light, but the driver of the Mercedes didn’t wait. The engine roared and big machine surged toward Joe, attempting to cut him off at the access road.

  With the lights no longer blinding them, the hyenas’ instincts took over. They broke into a chase, the healthy one closing the gap with astonishing speed.

  Joe ran with every ounce of energy his body could muster. His feet were flying, the rest of his body trying to keep up. It was not enough.

  The faster of the two animals caught him at the verge of the road. It leapt toward his back, taking him to the ground.

  They separated as they tumbled, with the hyena ripping Joe’s tuxedo jacket from his shoulders and mauling it for several seconds before realizing Joe wasn’t inside.

  Joe was already up and running. He raced across the access road, leapt onto the iron bars of the fence, making sure not to make contact with the ground at the same time.

  He’d jumped high enough to escape the shock and pulled himself up. He was grasping the spiked barbs on the top of the twelve-footer when the hyena lunged, hitting him awkwardly and knocking him free.

  Joe landed on the ground, rolling away from the snarling creature. He saw the animal get back to its feet. He knew he was about to get mauled and there was only one way he could think of stopping it. He jumped for the fence, wrapping both hands around it as the hyena lunged for his legs.

  The animal got its mouth on Joe’s right calf with two claws on his other leg.

  The circuit closed between Joe, the hyena and the ground. Electricity surged through his body and into the animal. Joe felt his muscles convulse and twist. He heard a howl of pain from the beast. And he felt himself tumbling.

  Landing in the dirt, Joe rolled over defensively and covered his head. He looked up to see the hyena racing off, yelping and barking as it scampered back toward the trees.

  Joe’s hands tingled, his ears buzzed and his nostrils were filled with the aroma of burnt fur. He put a hand to the ground, intending to get back on his feet, but it was too late. Freed from one foe, he was now at the mercy of another.

  Lights had found him and the big Mercedes was pulling to a stop beside him.

  Joe sat back down, waiting for the inevitable.

  The door opened. A face appeared. An attractive face, with olive green eyes.

  “Don’t just sit there,” a female called out. “Get in.”

  “Leandra?”

  “Are you disappointed?” she asked.

  He peeled himself off the ground, suddenly gifted with new energy. “Not in the least.”

  Lumbering over to the vehicle, Joe climbed inside and slammed the door. “Didn’t we tell you to get out of here if things went haywire?”

  “You did,” she replied. “But you never specified how. If we must go, I figured we might as well travel in style.”

  Joe grinned. “You’re going to fit in just fine around here,” he said. “Now all we have to do is find Kurt.”

  “Where is he?”

  Joe pointed into the distance, where several pairs of headlights and taillights were chasing one another around in a whirling cloud of dust. “Somewhere down there.”

  26

  After making three loops and trying to confuse his pursuers, Kurt had doubled back in a wide, sweeping turn. This took him away from the lions and hyenas and back toward the bluff. He had yet to see any sign of Joe.

  If he wasn’t on the grass, maybe he was still hiding in the rocks.

  Kurt made another half circle, churning up a new cloud of dust, and headed for the outcropping of rock they’d used as a refuge.

  The radio attached to the dashboard squawked. Kurt turned it up, catching the back end of the message. “. . . He’s alone in the jeep,” a bitter voice said. “If you can’t catch him, light him up.”

  A couple garbled responses were unintelligible, but the sound of rifles discharging was perfectly clear.

  The men were shooting at him from the backs of the Toyotas. He took evasive action and didn’t hear or feel anything hitting the jeep. Not a surprise, considering the darkness, dust and the uneven terrain they were bouncing over.

  Still, it took only one lucky shot to put the jeep or him out of action. Kurt chose to make himself harder to hit.

  Cutting one way and then back the other, he raced past the outcropping of granite with the high beams on. The lights swept the ledge, but there was no sign of Joe.

  “Come on, Joe,” Kurt said. “This is no time to play hide-and-seek.”

  He was forced to swing wide as bullets ricocheted off the weathered stone, but once he’d gone wide he cut back in the other direction and drove behind the bluff, putting the rock formation between him and the men with the guns.

  “Keep him away from the fence,” another voice said over the radio. “If he breaks through, there’s nothing but open road out there.”

  Kurt found the radio call odd. For one thing, he was nowhere near the fence. For another, the voice sounded awfully familiar.

  “He’s gone behind the bluff,” a harsher voice snapped. “Cut him off on the far side.”

  The Toyotas were still following, while the flatbed raced around the far side, attempting to catch Kurt in a pincer move.

  Kurt slammed on the brakes, sliding the tires and stirring up a billowing cloud of dust. Killing the headlights, he spun the wheel and mashed the accelerator to the floor once again, turning away from the rocks and out into the dark.

  Driving blind was dangerous, but it made him almost invisible. Kurt squinted through the coated windshield, trying to avoid crashing. He clipped a small tree and then swerved to avoid a boulder, barreling through some low bushes in the process.

  The two vehicles attempting to trap him fared worse. They converged in the cloud, each thinking they’d found him, shooting first and then nearly colliding.

  “Look out.”

  “Stop shooting. You’re firing at us.”

  “Where the hell did he go?”

  Kurt took great pleasure at being the cause of their frustration.

  “Well, he’s not heading for the fence,” the more familiar voice said. “Clearly, he’s too dumb to try that.”

  Kurt grinned as he heard the last radio call. It was Joe. The sarcasm only drove the point home.

  He couldn’t fathom how Joe had gotten a radio. But Joe was clearly telling him to run for the fence.

  Keeping his foot off the brake so the taillights wouldn’t give him away, Kurt circled around one more time, clearing the bluff and heading for freedom.

  The jeep picked up speed on this straightaway, its wheels rumbling across the dry terrain. Spotting the silhouette of the Mercedes parked on the access road, he grabbed the microphone from the cradle and pressed the talk button. “What happened to the other American?”

  “You mean the good-looking one?” Joe replied. “He probably met up with a beautiful woman and drove off into the sunset.”

  “Correction,” a female voice said. “He was rescued by a beautiful woman and they drove off into the moonrise.”

  Even better, Kurt thought. �
��I’ll ram the fence,” he replied, done with the pretense. “You guys get ready to pull through behind me.”

  Knowing it would best to hit a weak spot, Kurt aimed for a joint where two sections of the cast iron fence had been welded together. He kept the accelerator down and barreled forward, pulling the seat belt on with one hand and driving with the other.

  The jeep bounced across the access road and surged toward the barrier. It hit the fence at forty miles an hour, acting like a three-thousand-pound battering ram.

  The impact was sudden and jarring. Kurt felt the belt tighten and yank him hard. His head snapped forward and his hands flew off the steering wheel. The jeep tilted and went over on the passenger’s side, sliding to a stop.

  Kurt looked up. The jeep was on its side, partially caught in the fence, but only after breaking through to the long driveway.

  The Mercedes turned on its lights and rumbled through the gap and stopped next to him.

  Joe leaned out the window. “Careful, the fence might be hot even though it’s down.”

  Kurt noticed Joe’s hair was standing straight up. “What happened to you?”

  “Electroshock therapy,” Joe said.

  “I’ve been recommending you try that for years,” Kurt said.

  Unlatching his seat belt, Kurt freed himself and used the roll bar to pull himself up. Standing on the side of the jeep, he leapt over the downed fence and into the bed of the Mercedes.

  Securely down, he tapped the roof twice and Leandra hit the accelerator.

  The Mercedes roared off, heading down the road. The turbocharged, 500 horsepower engine propelled it at a pace that neither the workman-like Toyotas nor the diesel-powered flatbed could possibly hope to match.

  Watching the road behind them, Kurt saw the vehicles pull up to the fence and stop.

  A sliding window in the back of the cab opened and Kurt came face-to-face with Joe. His hair looked even more amusing up close, like a punk rock musician’s. “That’s a good look for you. I’d keep it like that.”

  “Very funny,” Joe said. “Speaking of keeping things. Tell me you didn’t drop that water sample in all your antics out there.”