by Cliff Ryder
Jason pulled back behind the door and waited, slipping his gun back into its holster. Jason stood tight against the wall and waited. As soon as the man crossed the threshold, Jason reached out from behind him, grasped him with one arm and pulled him to his chest.
The stunned sailor didn't have time to speak before Jason snapped his neck. He lowered the body smoothly to the floor and pulled him out of view, deep into the torpedo room. Another quick glance down the hallway showed it empty, so Jason took a few moments to remove the Russian sailor's uniform and put it on over his own clothing. The fit was tight and the pants too short, but if someone didn't look too carefully, he might slip by them unnoticed.
After hiding the body behind a rack of torpedoes, Jason looked into the hallway again, and found it still empty. The engine room would be on the far end of the submarine, but most likely on the same level, or perhaps the one above it. He moved confidently down the hallway, trying to look as though he belonged there and knew where he was going.
He'd made it about a third of the way when two sailors came out of a side compartment and almost collided with him in the narrow space. Jason kept his head down and muttered, "Excuse me" in Russian.
One of the sailors said, "Dimitri? What's wrong?"
Without turning around, he said, "Da? "
He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew it was too late. He reached up and across his body with his right hand, grasping the one on his shoulder and twisting it, hard. Jason heard bones snap in the sailor's wrist, accompanied by a yell of pain.
So much for quiet, Jason thought, while lashing out at the other sailor and taking him in the knee. The bones made a satisfying crunch and that one went down, grabbing at his leg and calling for security.
Jason removed the Glock from its holster and fired twice. He silenced both men instantly.
Above him, on the next level, he could hear voices shouting queries. He only had a couple of moments at most. He dragged both men into the compartment they'd come from and shut the door. There were splatters of blood along the floor and the bottom of the walkway walls, but there was little he could do about that. Perhaps the dim light would help.
A set of booted feet appeared on the ladder leading to the next level up, and an idea struck him. More confusion might equal more time. Positioning himself in the hall, he lay down on the floor at a seemingly awkward angle and watched through slitted eyelids as the security man approached.
This one was more cautious, moving slowly and looking at each compartment. Jason let out an internal sigh of relief — only one man had come to investigate. Once more, patience was all he needed.
The man knelt down to examine his prone body, when Jason suddenly sprang to life. One hand reached out and covered the security officer's mouth.
The second brought up the silenced Glock and put a round through his throat. The man fell over, dying from lack of oxygen and unable to make a sound. Jason got to his feet and dragged the man into the same compartment where he'd put the others, then continued on his way.
He knew more would follow when the first man didn't return with a report. In a few minutes, the deck would be swarming with sailors trying to figure out what was going on. Moving on quick, silent feet, Jason made his way to the engine-room compartment and peered inside.
Three more sailors were on duty there, watching gauges and manning the computers that controlled the engine and propulsion systems.
Things are about to get interesting, he thought.
At that moment, an alarm began ringing throughout the sub and a voice over the internal address system said, "Red alert! Red alert! There is an intruder on board. All hands to stations! All hands to stations! Security to check all decks!"
So much for the element of surprise, Jason thought. He stepped into the engine control room.
Still reacting to the sudden alarm, the sailors didn't even see him at first, and two were down before the third realized that his companions were dead. He jumped for a switch on one console — obviously an alarm of some kind — and Jason almost didn't reach him in time.
He grabbed the sailor, yanking him backward and onto the hard metal of the deck. "Don't," he said, pointing the Glock. The young sailor held up his hands in surrender.
Jason gestured with the gun. "Shut the compartment door and lock it," he ordered.
Nodding, the sailor climbed to his feet and shut the compartment hatch, then turned the wheel that slid the lock bolts into place. He stepped away from the door, once again lifting his hands.
"Sit down," Jason told him, motioning to a chair. The young man took a seat and Jason quickly bound his hands with a plastic cord he carried in his pack. "Now, you can sit quietly and live," he told him, "or you can die. Your choice."
"I will be as silent as a mouse," the kid said.
"Good choice," he replied. He took his pack off and began removing the C-4 charges. The engine room was usually a loud place, but since the sub was currently at stop and the engines were shut down, it was fairly quiet.
He began placing charges in key system locations — propulsion, oxygen exchanger, combustion and fuel, as well as near the hull itself. The series of concussions from the explosions might be enough to blow a hole in the side of the sub itself, but either way, once the explosions hit, the sub would remain on the bottom of the ocean.
And the Russians couldn't risk the kind of retrieval mission it would take to get it back.
His handheld beeped softly and he pulled it from his cargo pocket. The screen read, "Search complete. Download?"
He quickly typed in the commands to have the sub's plans downloaded to his handheld and the laptop itself.
"You will…blow up our submarine?" the Russian asked.
"I thought I told you to sit quietly," Jason said.
"I do not want to die," the kid said. "Please."
"There are escape pods built into this vessel," Jason said. "Maybe not enough for everyone, but you might get lucky."
The kid nodded in sour understanding.
As Jason finished wiring the detonators, someone tried to open the compartment door and quickly discovered that it was locked from the inside. "Damn," he said. "I really don't want to go down with the ship myself."
Someone began hammering on the door and Jason risked a glance through the small porthole. Three security officers were standing outside, demanding that the engine crew open up. Thinking quickly, Jason moved to where he had the sailor tied up and drew a blade from a sheath on his ankle.
The Russian's eyes widened in fear. "I'm not going to kill you…yet," Jason said.
He sliced through the plastic cuffs and said, "You're going to answer the door and let them in," he said. "You'll act like nothing is wrong. Don't interfere when they come in, and you may live through this yet." He offered his best cold stare and added, "Understand?"
"Yes," the sailor said. "I understand."
Jason pulled out the Glock again and noted the wear and tear on the silencer. He'd need to replace it after this encounter. He stepped behind the door and motioned for the sailor to open the hatch.
The sailor spun the wheel and stepped out of the way as the three security men burst into the room, all of them talking at once, too busy jabbering about an intruder to notice the two bodies already lying on the deck. Jason fired his first two rounds in milliseconds, needing little time to aim at this distance. The third security man dived for cover, and that was when the young sailor tried to be a make a run for it.
Kicking out with one foot, Jason slammed the hatch shut, which the kid ran into full tilt. There was a dull sound as his head connected with the metal of the hatch and he dropped as if he'd been poleaxed. The momentary distraction, however, was enough for the security man to take a shot, and Jason felt the burning sting of a graze in his left shoulder. The force of it was enough to spin him sideways.
"Damn it," he said, adjusting his position on the fly. He went all the way to the deck, rolled and came up firing. His first round was wide, but
the second hit the security officer in the chest, driving him back into the computer console. His fingers squeezed the trigger spasmodically, and the rounds hit the metal plating on the floor and ricocheted several times around the room before stopping.
Jason breathed a sigh of relief. "With my luck lately, I'd have been killed by a ricochet." His handheld beeped and he glanced at it quickly. The screen read, "Download complete."
"Good enough for government work," he said. He looked down at the unconscious sailor on the floor. There was nothing he could do for him now. Ignoring the stinging pain in his left arm, Jason moved back to the hatch and peered into the hallway.
Sailors were running every which way, trying to figure out where the intruder was. The bodies of the others must have been found. Still, in this kind of confusion and chaos, it was possible he might have a chance to slip through unnoticed.
"Sorry, kid," he said, opening the door and stepping back into the hallway. He left it open and walked ten full paces before he reached into his pocket and pushed the button that would detonate the C-4. He had five minutes before the explosives would blow.
He moved quickly through the crowd, keeping his head down and using his fluent Russian to occasionally shout out responses to questions.
"Where is the intruder?" one sailor asked.
"I think he went up a deck," Jason replied. "Security needs all the help they can get!" He shoved the man in the direction of the nearest ladder.
In a time of crisis, Jason knew people often want to be told what to do, and this man was no exception.
Once, a security officer grabbed him and said, "Have you seen Vladimir?"
Jason nodded. "He went to the bridge to report something."
The security officer ran off, never looking back.
It took him the better part of four minutes by his count to reach the torpedo-room hatch. Glancing behind him and seeing no one following, he opened it and stepped inside, pulling it shut behind him.
He didn't see the massive fist that slammed into his already tender ribs, nor the one that followed it, which connected with his jaw and sent him flying to the deck. He grunted in pain as he hit, rolled and came up shaking his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.
20
The man in front of him looked just like Boris, but he had been given the benefit of a full head of hair.
"You must know Boris," Jason stated, stepping away from the giant. "They say that after a long time together, married people begin to look alike. Are you the husband or the wife?"
"I am Vladimir Ambros," the man said. "The Siberian Tiger." He spun the wheel on the hatch door, locking it closed. "My brother is Boris. I understand that you two have already met."
"Recently," Jason said. "Though he failed to mention you during our discussion. You must not be all that close."
"Boris and Feng Li send their regrets," he said, stepping closer. "They wanted to be here to see me kill you. They knew you would come. I knew you would come."
"You know, Boris already tried to kill me," Jason said. "He didn't do a very good job of it."
Vladimir laughed. "You are a foolish man, Mr. Siku," he said. "My brother was only playing with you. It was not his place to kill you, but Feng Li has given me that honor. Had you remained captive, he would have killed you himself."
Jason risked a glance at his watch. "I'd love to stay and visit, but things are going to get interesting in five."
"Five?"
"Four," Jason said.
"Four?"
Vladimir was obviously the slower one of the two.
"Three," Jason said.
Vladimir moved in, ignoring him, and Jason skipped away. "Two," he called, avoiding a sloppy but undoubtedly strong roundhouse.
"Why are you counting?" the Russian yelled.
"One," Jason said.
The explosives detonated on the far end of the sub, and the reverberations and noise could be felt all the way to the room they were standing in. "It's just something I like to do," Jason said, feeling the deck begin to pitch beneath his feet, "when an explosion is about to happen."
Vladimir roared like an angry bear and crossed the space between them in three quick steps, lunging to grasp him in a crushing hug.
Jason ducked beneath the swinging arms and threw a solid openhanded blow into the man's crotch. He heard him gasp in pain, then scream as Jason grabbed a handful and pulled, twisting at the same time.
Vladimir slammed both of his meaty arms into Jason's shoulders and for a moment, he wondered if his collarbones or his shoulders were broken…or both. As he scrambled away from the huge Russian, the sub lurched again, and Jason suspected that his plan had worked better than expected. There was a hull breach.
The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than the alarm began ringing again, and a voice ordered all hands to abandon ship. Only a few would make it, he knew. The icy waters of the Arctic would take the rest.
"You fight like a woman," Vladimir said, ignoring the call to abandon ship.
Knowing he was almost out of time, Jason got to his feet, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his ribs and his shoulders. "You're right," he said, stumbling a bit as the sub lurched yet again. He pulled the Glock. "But I shoot like a man."
He squeezed the trigger three times, driving Vladimir back against the rack of torpedoes and sending them crashing to the floor. The giant fell to the ground, sitting, and stared up at Jason with a look of surprise on his face. "A real man kills with his bare hands," he said, blood dribbling from his mouth and nose.
"Maybe," Jason admitted. "But while I'll go on being at least a pretend man, you'll be fish food." He turned away and felt the Russian grab his pant leg.
"Don't…leave me to die like this. To drown." The man's eyes were pleading.
Remembering the beating he'd taken at Boris's hands, Jason said, "Would you or your brother show the same mercy to me?"
"Yes," he said, nodding painfully. "We are not without honor."
"Bullshit," Jason said, "but who am I to argue?" He raised the Glock and put the man out of his misery.
The rushing sound of water could be heard in the hall behind him, along with the screams of sailors as the icy ocean took them. Most would die even before they reached the few escape pods. The submarine was on its way to being an underwater relic, and if he didn't get a move on, he'd be joining them.
He climbed into the torpedo tube and began to shimmy his way back to the Scorpion.
If everything was going according to plan, Jesse and Tina were already at the base camp and beginning their assault. His only sorrow in all this was that Feng Li and Boris weren't on board to go down with the ship.
But his gut told him he'd be seeing them both before this was over.
* * *
Jason slipped back into the Scorpion and blew the locks on the docking collar. He could feel the pull of the submarine as it sank lower into the icy black depths below as he fired up the engines. If the suction grew too great, he would be pulled down right along with it.
For a brief, panicked moment, he thought that was exactly what was going to happen as the Scorpion struggled against the underwater vacuum created by the massive, sinking submarine. He hit the engine boosters and breathed a sigh of relief as the small craft pulled away, leaving the sinking submarine and her crew to their fate.
He pushed the Scorpion to its limits, trying to get back to the underwater cavern where the minisubs had been loaded. Only half his mission had been accomplished, and Jesse and Tina by now had to be in position, if they weren't already fighting for their lives. The tide was coming in, which made the job of piloting his submersible more challenging as once more, chunks of ice flowed in closer to shore. The sun had gone down, so he was operating with only the lights of the Scorpion and radar to help him avoid obstacles.
As he neared the cavern, he turned on the tracking radar, which would send signals into the cavern and bounce them back as three-dimensional images of what was going on above the surfa
ce.
"Damn," he muttered, seeing the outlines of Tina and Jesse hiding behind a large stack of crates and firing their weapons. They were making their stand right where he'd told them to and fighting for their lives while they were doing it. Each passing second made it more likely that one or both of them would be wounded or killed.
He scanned the rest of the cavern and counted heads. At least a dozen or more guards were opposing them.
He pushed the engines even harder, dodging a large cluster of ice and skirting a rock outcropping. The images on the screen flickered as the extra power went from the computer to the engines. He could make it inside the cavern and join them within two or three minutes if he pushed the machine to its limits.
Suddenly, alarms began to blare inside the Scorpion, and Jason saw that the two minisubs were on his radar and moving in on his position. This time, he knew, he would sink them both. If Jesse and Tina had done their jobs, they hadn't been loaded with the nuclear weapons yet, and he didn't want to give anyone who survived this operation a free means of getting any other weapons away from the area.
"All right," he muttered, guiding the Scorpion toward the two minisubs. "Let's see how the new and improved Scorpion fares this time."
He punched up the controls for the weapons system, and the Scorpion's extendable arms rotated, bringing up an underwater launcher and a gas-powered minigun that fired .50-caliber rounds. A voice said, "Targeting system online. Voice-activated fire control at your command." This time, he fully intended to fight in ways they didn't have any means to counter.
The first sub closed in on his right and he spun the Scorpion on its axis. "Target acquired," the computer said.
"Launcher, fire!" Jason said.
There were two dull thumping sounds as the launcher fired, and in the short distance between himself and the other sub, he saw the rounds closing in on their target. The operator of the minisub tried to turn, but his momentum took him directly into the path of the shells, which impacted the side of his craft and stuck. The outside covering of the shells was magnetic.
A second later both of them exploded, and in the flare of underwater light, Jason saw the hole blown in the side of the craft. The operator was already dead from the blast and his vessel spun wildly out of control, sinking rapidly.
