Fast Ice

by Clive Cussler

  Kurt had a plan to prevent that. “I’ll go topside to give them something else to worry about. The longer I distract them, the more weight you can shift to one side.”

  “If you happen to wander by the bridge,” Joe said, “a sharp turn would do nicely.”

  “I’ll see what I can arrange.”

  With the plan decided upon, Kurt looked over the schematics of the ship to plot out a route to the bridge. That done, he checked his weapon, jammed the magazine back into place and hid it under his heavy winter coat. Double-checking that his radio and headset were in another pocket, he turned for the door.

  Joe grabbed his arm before he could walk away. “We can’t leave these people down here when it happens.”

  Kurt looked at their prisoners. They were Ryland’s followers, but there wasn’t a violent one among the bunch. “Cut them loose before we go over. Give them a chance, just don’t get yourself killed in the process.”

  As Joe nodded, Kurt opened the hatch and stepped into the corridor beyond.

  64

  Kurt cut across to the ship’s outer passageway and then back up toward the main deck, passing two men coming the other way.

  Resisting the urge to salute or act official in any way, he offered a slight nod and continued on. Neither of the men even bothered to return the gesture.

  Kurt continued forward, walking at a brisk pace. The ship was so lengthy, it took five full minutes to get to the forward stairs. He began climbing again, eight more flights before he reached the bridge deck.

  “No need for a gym on this ship,” he whispered under his breath.

  Passing a navigation room, he reached the doorway to the ship’s bridge. He could hear voices through the steel door. Three or four men.

  He unzipped his coat and pulled out the MP5. Safety off, he put his hand on the door. It began to move before he applied any pressure.

  Kurt stepped back. The door swung open. Ryland Lloyd appeared in the entrance.

  He stopped at the sight of someone in his way. Recognition didn’t happen instantly. He stared for a split second, flummoxed at the impertinence of someone blocking his path, before realizing just who it was.

  Kurt saw that realization hit him. He saw Ryland’s eyes go wide and his body tense. He tried to step back and slam the hatch shut, but Kurt knocked Ryland’s hand free and then barged forward, knocking Ryland over onto the deck.

  When he landed on the plating with a hearty grunt, the eyes of the other two men in the room swung to the source of the commotion.

  Kurt saw one of the men reach for a weapon. “Don’t.”

  The man drew his pistol anyway. Kurt pulled the trigger, firing a two-shot burst. The first bullet hit the man in the gut, the second hit his shoulder.

  The gun flew from the man’s grasp as he fell backward, clutching his stomach. But as he landed, the ship’s captain charged from the other direction, rushing Kurt from behind.

  Kurt had sensed him coming. He ducked and spun, rolling his shoulders and flipping the captain over, sending him flying into a large, bearded man who’d drawn a knife and was getting ready to charge.

  The two of them went down like bowling pins. Kurt turned back to Ryland, who was scrambling across the deck, grasping for the loose pistol.

  Ryland managed to get his fingers on it but never raised it off the deck as Kurt stepped on his hand, crushing a few of the smaller bones and drawing blood with the spikes on his ice shoes.

  Ryland pulled his hand back and Kurt kicked the pistol away. He then shoved Ryland toward the other three men and leveled the submachine gun in their direction.

  Ryland slid backward and raised his hands. The others did likewise.

  “You’ll never get off this ship,” Ryland said.

  “When I’m done,” Kurt replied, “we’ll all be looking for a way off this ship.”

  * * *

  —

  Back in the pump room, Joe stood beside an intersection of valves and pipes. He had a large box wrench in his hand. This one was specialized, like those used to open fire hydrants. It had a long handle, which allowed the user to get much more leverage, and a closed end with five sides that could fit over the large bolt on the top of the hydrant.

  Joe placed it over one of the cross-feed valves and leaned into it. The first shove moved the bolt a fraction of a turn, the second moved it an inch or two and the third effort opened the valve wide. He performed the same task on three other valves and then returned to the control panel.

  With the cross-feeds locked in the open position, he activated the pumps at the center of the room. They clanked to life one by one and began to build up pressure. A hiss of air whistled through the pipes, followed by the sound of rushing water. The pipes were large-bore, each one a foot in diameter. They would transfer thousands of gallons a second, once the pressure built to full, but it would still be a long, drawn-out process.

  * * *

  —

  From the bridge of the ship, it was easy to feel the Goliath picking up speed. The diesels were running at full power, the twin screws at the aft end of the ship biting firmly and pushing the vessel forward. The fact that it was half filled and riding high made the ship lighter and allowed it to run with less drag from the water. The wind off the glacier was helping as well, pushing on the hull like a sail.

  “You’re too late,” Ryland said with pride. “We’re already under way. My men will be suspicious if you try to stop the ship now or order us to turn back. Especially without word from me or the captain. They’ll storm the bridge and you’ll run out of bullets trying to fight them off.”

  “I’ll save the last bullet for you,” Kurt promised.

  “That won’t help you,” Ryland replied. “My life or death is irrelevant at this point. My people believe in what we’re doing. Killing me will just make me into a martyr. It will fire their spirits to see the job through.”

  “And what job is that?” Kurt asked. “Destroying the world? Burying it in ice?”

  “I’m simply accelerating what nature will begin in another thirty years or so,” Ryland insisted.

  “If that’s true, why not let nature take its course?” Kurt asked. “Let humanity reap what it sows?”

  “Because the planet will be weaker and worse off in thirty years,” Ryland insisted. “Humans are destroying the biodiversity of the Earth as fast as they’re destroying the climate and environment. You know it to be true. I’ve read your work on saving the reefs from ocean acidification and the effects of overfishing. I heard you thundering at me in my own home, when you thought I was a man who might burn up the world if there was a profit to be had.”

  Kurt stared at Ryland. “What difference does it make if the Earth dies in fire or in ice? It still dies. You’ve offered no solution.”

  “The Earth will survive,” Ryland said. “Humanity will as well. But its gross overreaching will be checked. It will emerge again, newer and wiser.”

  Kurt turned briefly back to the computer screen and then spoke again, addressing the others. “Is this what he promised you? A part of the new world he’d create for you?”

  Neither the bearded man nor the captain responded.

  Kurt refocused on Ryland. “Either you haven’t run the simulations correctly or you haven’t shared them with your followers. But there’s a chance your ice age becomes a runaway train. A vicious cycle, colder air creating more ice that cools the air further. In the end, the whole Earth is iced over and locked in a frozen state. What happens to your little sanctuaries at that point? I’ll tell you. The forests, the animals, the people—everything dies. And doesn’t come back.”

  “Exaggeration,” Ryland said dismissively. “A fantasy created from false data.”

  “Your sister’s data, taken straight from a paper she wrote years ago.”

  Ryland went mute for a moment, his jaw clenched a
nd his teeth grinding. “And what would you do about it?” he asked finally. “If the warming isn’t checked, half of the tropics will be unfit for human life within thirty years. Half of the world’s coastlines will be flooded.”

  “I’d work for a solution,” Kurt said. “I’d trust in human nature to ultimately be rational. Even if it takes a long time to get there. I’d trust in science to figure out methods to prevent the worst-case scenario. And I’d fight for a compromise that brings people together instead of setting them against one another.”

  “You’re a fool,” Ryland said.

  “No,” Kurt said. “Just unreasonable enough to ignore the madmen on either side.”

  Kurt turned away from the conversation and back to the computer screen. He’d found what he needed—a detailed chart of the bay made by Ryland’s people so they could get the huge ice ship in and out of the area safely. It showed plenty of submerged obstructions, including an underwater ridge three miles away.

  The ridge angled sharply outward, jutting into the bay from the shoreline and running at a depth of fifty feet on average. Deep water in front made it particularly dangerous, especially as the Goliath was drawing seventy or eighty feet.

  Kurt stepped over to the command terminal, from which the captain would guide the ship. It was a modern system but fairly standard, like those in any large merchant ship.

  The engines were already set to full ahead. The ship was doing ten knots and building toward sixteen. Not a speed demon by any means. But once something this size got moving, it would take forever to stop.

  Using a control knob, Kurt adjusted the course a few degrees. The helm answered. The rudder swung off center. The huge ship of ice began a slow and shallow turn.

  Even then, Kurt felt it lean. The vessel was top-heavy and unstable.

  With the straightening up on its new course, Kurt kept his eyes moving. A quick glance at the screen was followed by a quick glance at the prisoners and then the hatch to make sure the handles were still locked down tight.

  Operating this way, Kurt saw the whole room. What he didn’t see was the captain keying the mic of a handheld radio behind his back. The man was clicking the transmit button on and off, sending a call for help to anyone who might be listening.

  Two miles from the ridge, Kurt made a second small adjustment to the ship’s course and then a third, more significant change. This put the Goliath on a line to intercept the submerged ledge.

  He peered through the bridge windows, searching for any sign of the shoreline, but could barely see past the bow of the ship. A camera system gave a better view. Black water beneath a gray sky, low-lying cliffs just visible in the distance.

  The speed reached thirteen knots and was rising. An alarm began flashing on the navigation screen. Blinking yellow accompanied by chirping.

  It was a first-level hazard warning. The system had determined that Kurt’s course would take them over the rocks.

  The captain stirred first, sitting up taller. “What are you doing?”

  “What is that?” Ryland asked.

  “Hazard warning,” the captain said. “He’s running us aground.”

  Ryland shifted his position, getting ready to attack. Kurt turned toward him, prepared to fire if any of them got up off the floor.

  As he looked their way, the latch handle on the hatchway swung up and the door flew open. A pair of Ryland’s men burst in with guns in their hands.

  Kurt opened fire, cutting one of them down and forcing the other one back into the passageway.

  The man ducked out of sight and then aimed his weapon through the opening, pulling the trigger and spraying lead around the bridge. Kurt threw himself against the bulkhead and kicked the hatch door, slamming it on the man’s arm.

  The door rebounded after a sickening crack and the man bailed, falling backward and grunting in pain.

  With nothing blocking the hatchway, Kurt forced it closed and slammed the handle down. As he sealed it tight, Ryland and Ober lunged for him.

  They caught him at the waist, knocking into him and taking him down. He landed on his back as Ober climbed on him.

  Unable to bring the submachine gun to bear, Kurt smashed its stock into Ober’s bearded face. Ober rolled away, grabbing his mouth.

  Ryland reached up and gripped the barrel of the MP5 before Kurt could give him the same treatment.

  The two of them fought for the weapon. Ryland got a second hand on the stock. Kurt tried to yank it free, but Ryland had reached the grip and ended up forcing Kurt’s finger to compress and hold down the trigger.

  The gun erupted, firing on full auto. Bullets drilled into the ceiling and ricocheted off the walls. The captain, who’d rushed to the navigation panel to try to change the ship’s course, took a hit in the knee and went down.

  Ober and Kurt were both hit by ricochets, while a line of bullets stitched its way across the windows fronting the bridge. One of them shattered and caved in. Cold wind began howling through the gap.

  Kurt headbutted Ryland, stunning him just long enough to pull the weapon free and get his finger off the trigger. He then threw Ryland off, slid himself backward and fired at Ober as the man charged once more, bloody teeth and all.

  Ober dropped to his knees and fell sideways.

  With the odds back in his favor, Kurt jumped up and spun the knob on the navigation panel, turning the ship more sharply toward the cliffs.

  As the Goliath rolled into the turn, the hatchway swung open once again and Kurt fired his last rounds of ammunition.

  The intruders ducked back once more. But with the bolt on the MP5 locked in the open position and no ammo, Kurt’s ability to fight was suddenly curtailed.

  With nowhere else to go, he climbed up onto the navigation terminal and dove through the shattered window.

  * * *

  —

  Still in the pump room, Joe felt the Goliath turn once and then more sharply a second time. He sensed the ship’s list increase as the starboard side grew heavier and the port side grew ever lighter.

  He’d transferred five million gallons of lake water so far and the pumps were still humming. By choosing the outermost tanks to empty and fill, he’d magnified the change in list to the greatest extent possible.

  The ship’s outer right-hand side was now carrying forty thousand tons more than the outer left side. The ship was leaning ten degrees already and the angle was growing by the minute.

  Finding some chains and a padlock, Joe rigged the setup to hold tight and then took the key with him. Moving back to the prisoners, he lowered the Norwegian sailor’s gag.

  “What’s your name?” Joe asked.

  “I’m called Björn.”

  “Well, Björn, you seem like a smart man,” Joe said. “I assume you know what I’m trying to do here?”

  “You’re making the ship unstable,” Björn replied. “You’re going to roll us over.”

  “That’s the general idea,” Joe said. “Now, you can either be down here when it happens or watching it from a lifeboat at a safe distance.”

  “We have no lifeboats,” the man said.

  “There has to be something.”

  “We have runabouts,” he said. “And inflatables.”

  Joe pulled out a knife and brandished it. “If I were you,” he said, “I’d make my way to one of those.” He tossed the knife a short distance from where Björn sat. “Don’t waste your time trying to reverse what I’ve done. I’ve rigged it so that you’ll never be able to undo it. Just get off this ship before it goes over.”

  With that, Joe walked to the hatch, opened it and ducked through.

  Björn sat in shock for a second, staring at the watertight door. Only when one of his hog-tied comrades began grunting and nodding toward the knife did Björn spring into action.

  Dropping onto his side, he inchwormed his way to the kni
fe and then turned so he could get his hands on it.

  Gripping it awkwardly, he got the blade onto the thin rope that bound his hands. He began sawing back and forth, happy to find that the knife was both serrated and extremely sharp. In ten seconds, he’d cut the rope and freed his hands. His feet took no more than a second.

  Free of the bindings, he rushed back to his comrades and went to work on theirs.

  The first man he cut loose was his assistant. “Free the others,” Björn said, handing over the knife.

  As the assistant went to work, Björn rushed to the controls Joe had tampered with. The valves were chained in the open position. The pumps running full out.

  Looking for some way to reverse what Joe had done, Björn found a length of pipe and tried to use the leverage from it to break the lock.

  Leaning back, he put all his weight into it. But the lock held. And the pipe slipped. It flew out of his hands and landed on the deck, clanking loudly as it struck the metal plating and then began rolling away.

  “Forget about it,” his assistant shouted. “We have to go.”

  Björn took another look and gave up. Turning away from the pumps, he made his way across the tilted deck and joined his friends at the hatch. They pulled it open, stepped through and took off down the passageway.

  As they moved away, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

  Joe watched them for several seconds and then began to follow. If human nature held sway, they would run to the nearest boat. Joe would follow. Where there was one boat there was bound to be another.

  65

  Kurt dove through the forward bridge window onto a slope designed to make the superstructure look like nothing more than a raised part of the iceberg. He slid uncontrollably for seventy feet, careening downward like a skier who’d wiped out on a particularly steep slope.