The panic ebbed and Angel nodded. “Okay.”
Yesterday, a few of the Poleys had taken snowmobiles out to the site of her face-off with Sampson. They’d returned with the bodies and weapons, along with a newfound respect for Angel.
She’d gotten along fine with these guys back at Burke-Ruhe, before everything had happened, but the way they looked at her had changed. She wasn’t just a colleague anymore, they’d told her, but a South Pole legend, like Shackleton or Scott.
“I’ll head out to see what the hell’s going on.” Pam moved to the door. “You hold down the fort here.”
“Got it.” Angel nodded, gun gripped in her hands.
Pam left her alone with Ford, whose stillness made her want to shake him. Of course that would be the crazy thing to do. Then again, crazy had pretty much saved her life over the last few days, so…
Awkwardly, she stood and shoved her cot right up against his in a way that so closely resembled their time in the hut that she could almost smell it. Vodka, canned stew, and him. Him, all over her, in her, next to her at night.
She rolled onto the cot and got as close to his heat as she could, her back tight to his side, while her front faced the door, ready to protect him.
With her life, if need be.
* * *
Retired Navy SEAL Eric Cooper wasn’t the type of man to ask for permission before acting. Nor was he the type to ask for forgiveness. He just did what needed to be done. It had been his job once. Now it was his personal mission.
For the greater good. For his nation. And, above all, for his family.
The second he’d heard his brother’s garbled message from the South Pole, he’d set to work putting together a rescue mission, pulling in every favor he’d accrued in his years in the military and since. He’d put to work the vast resources available to a man who’d amassed a fortune through hard work and smart investments.
He’d also called in his friends—by far the most important assets at his disposal. A small specialized team, including Leontyne “Leo” Eddowes, once a combat helicopter pilot who could master anything airworthy. She hadn’t batted an eye when he’d told her what he needed.
“Fly to Antarctica to save my brother.”
“You got it,” she’d said, knowing full well what kind of risk she was taking.
He looked around the cavernous, nearly empty aircraft at the people he was tightest with.
They all knew, to the last, that this mission could end before it even began. Fuel could freeze, the fucking plane could stick to the damn ice, making it impossible to take off again. And still they were willing—no, eager—to step up and do it.
He could almost cry if he weren’t so fucking pissed off right now.
“Wish you hadn’t come,” he said to the woman beside him—Zoe, the love of his life and the only person here without combat experience. Well, with a single experience that he’d prefer never to live through again.
“Wish you’d shut up,” she replied, and all he could do was squeeze her hand.
Despite the cold in here, they were sweltering in their massive expedition coats. It had been one hell of a scramble to outfit this group on such short notice, but he’d done it, with Zoe’s help.
The Herc they flew in was the biggest miracle—a favor he’d be paying off for the rest of his life. But worth it. Anything would be worth getting his brother back, safe and sound, from whatever hellish clusterfuck he’d managed to get himself into down here.
“I’d say cleared for landing.” Leo’s voice came through the comm device. “Except there’s nobody here to clear us. And we are so under the radar, we’ll never see daylight again if they catch us.”
Around him, his ex-teammates—although there was no ex- about it—seated themselves, strapping in for what they knew would be one hell of a ride to Volkov Station’s blue ice runway.
“Take us there, Leo.” He held his rifle tight and reached out again with his left hand, not relaxing until Zoe gripped it. “Let’s do this.”
* * *
“Get me Senator Mitchum,” Katherine Harper said into her phone.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She hit End and slumped in her seat for a few seconds. How had this spiraled so far out of control? Goodness, it irked her. She shut her eyes, biting back the disappointment and, with it, thoughts of the worst day of her life. They came more and more often recently, these images, almost too visceral to be considered memories.
A minute later, her phone buzzed. She straightened her spine before lifting the receiver. “Senator. We have a problem.”
“What is it?” The man’s words were deep and polished—television-worthy, unlike Katherine’s own broken voice. This man hadn’t suffered as she had. He hadn’t known loss, didn’t understand how deeply it destroyed a person, body and soul.
“The virus has gotten loose in our Antarctic facility.”
“The vaccine didn’t—”
“The team does not appear to have used it.”
“Well, this is—”
“It is catastrophic, Teddy. I know. And now, since your soldiers apparently weren’t able to fulfill their duties, the United States government needs to contain it.”
The senator’s pause spoke volumes, but she knew what he’d say. They’d prepared for this after all. It was a matter of national security.
“It’s the worst-case scenario, I know. And as you are aware, the team signed releases for just such an event. I’m afraid the worst has occurred. I received confirmation from Dr. Tenny himself.”
“Well, that’s absolutely tragic. He was an important man.”
Referring to Tenny in the past already, as if the deed were done. Good. That meant there would be no objections. Not that she’d expected any, of course, since they were in this together. But one never knew how people would respond in high-stress moments.
She knew how she responded. Parts of her died—love, kindness, emotion. They all shriveled up, to be sloughed off like so much waste, leaving her a hard, empty shell of a person. A carapace protecting pure drive. A mission. That’s all she was.
She straightened up and carried on. She moved mountains—literally digging them up—to ensure that her work would continue. When the world needed changing, she changed it.
“Yes. Yes, he was a very important man indeed.” She nodded for a few beats. Twenty-five seconds, she found, usually conveyed the appropriate sadness. The senator apparently agreed, since he wrapped it up about then. Professional through and through. “And those soldiers will surely be missed.”
“Someone will inform their families.” Good Lord, the man was already practicing the lines he’d use on television. “Well, then, I suppose we must engage the necessary action.” Speaking of psychopaths…
“Yes indeed. And I’m especially sad to say it appears Dr. Tenny performed some…clandestine operations on his own. He has gone rogue with the virus.” Another fabrication, obviously. But no one could emerge from this operation alive. Letting the senator know that Tenny had gone rogue would ensure he took this straight to DEFCON, rather than settling on an ill-advised rescue mission. “Sampson was apparently on his side. The project must be shut down.”
“Is there no one on the ground who can—”
“I’m afraid all of your men have been…terminated,” she said, sealing their fates.
The senator’s breathing continued, long and slow and smooth. Nothing could shock this man. Obviously not, if he was willing to spearhead top-secret missions like this one. Not for the same reasons as Katherine, nor with the same goal. But the result would be the same. Perhaps a bit more drastic than what the senator expected. But he’d get used to it once it was all over. He would come out on the right side of history. It was the survivors, after all, who wrote the books for future generations.
Either way, she couldn’t bring herself
to care. She’d likely be gone before the full effects had been felt. By then it would be too late. Her work would be done. And she could let herself rest.
She’d join her beloved husband and the babies and she’d take Fiona with her. At peace, finally.
Senator Mitchum sighed regretfully, bringing her back to the room, to here and now. “I’ll engage the destruction protocol.”
Katherine lowered her brows, tightened her lips, and nodded once in perfect, unconscious imitation of her father, who’d used this look with heads of state once upon a time. President Kennedy had sat in this very room with Father, strategizing much the way Katherine did today. Reagan, Clinton, both Bushes. Nearly every president since the 1960s. “Time is of the essence, of course, considering how dangerous the virus is. How soon do you think we can…?” she trailed off, knowing how important it was, occasionally, to step back and give men like this one a sense of their own power.
“I’ll send the request to our man at Defense. We’ll make sure all comms are cut. And he’ll get those drones out as soon as is humanly possible.”
The director nodded. “Perfect. Thank you, Teddy. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Katherine. I will ensure that your condolences are passed along to the families.” He paused before quietly adding, “It’s a good thing what you’re doing here. For the good of the planet. For the good of mankind. A very good thing.”
Chapter 49
A knock at the door made Angel shake like she was back on the ice again, alone in her own whiteout. She tightened her bandaged hands on the gun, pressed back into Ford’s warm body, and waited.
“Ms. Smith? Ma’am? This is Eric Cooper. I understand my brother’s inside with you. Am I free to enter?”
Was it a trick? It had to be a trick.
But wait. Eric Cooper. She knew that name.
Oh my God. It’s him. It’s Ford’s brother.
“I’m pointing a weapon at the door,” she croaked out, even though she’d never shot one of these in her life. Then again, she hadn’t killed a man before this week, either, so… “How do I know it’s you?”
“Ford’s my little brother, ma’am. Ask me anything.”
She wracked her brain for a few seconds and fell upon something he’d told her in the tent. “There’s an island. Off the coast of California, where your dad used to take you fishing when you were kids. What’s the name of it?”
“San Elias Island.” Her hands loosened of their own volition, and she barely tightened them again before letting the gun fall. “In fact, I spent the night there with Zoe recently.”
“It’s true!” a woman chimed in. “We didn’t exactly choose to stay there the first time. But I guess that’s a story for some other day.”
“Right. Now, I’m gonna open this door. Okay, Ms. Smith? Angel? Slowly.” The door latch opened with a clunk and Angel sucked in a breath. It could still be a trick, right? “Appreciate it if you’d hold your fire.”
Angel sat up and, because she couldn’t control the way her hand shook, pointed the weapon at the ceiling, watching the door with unblinking hawk eyes.
The man who came in did look like Ford, but longer and leaner. Where Ford had those squared off parts—jaw, chest, shoulders—his brother looked like he’d been stretched up. But the tension in the eyes was the same, what she could see of his coloring, too. When he’d given the room a quick once-over, there was no mistaking his anguish as he went to his brother’s side.
“I’m so sorry.” The apology rushed out. “He was shot. Twice.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“No. You don’t get it. I couldn’t stop them from—”
Eric squatted in front of her and put a hand on her arm—just a quick pat—then took it away. “You saved his life. Thank you.”
“You know how many times he saved mine?”
“Yeah.” He tightened his jaw. “Let’s get you guys stateside, okay? You good with that?” At her nod, he asked, “Where’s home for you?”
She opened her mouth and closed it.
When she pictured home now, all she could see was an orange cocoon, floating on an endless sea of ice, the heat of two bodies, the secret place between them.
A conversation came back to her, the memory infused with the tent’s warm glow: You like making people happy, Ford had said about her cooking. That’s why you do it. She’d wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong.
And then she’d stopped. Because he’d been right. For her, cooking wasn’t about tastes and smells and textures. It was about feeding people. Giving to them. And now just thinking about that made her feel seen. As if Ford had peeled her skin away and peered at her quickly beating heart.
Now that escape was actually possible, she didn’t want to sell her soul to the highest bidder anymore. She wanted to spread it around, like butter. Like love. To give it to people who wanted it, who needed it.
But first, Ford. Only Ford.
“We’re gonna evacuate the base now. You good with that?” Eric asked.
She shook her head, blinking away the close, heated moment. “How’d you even get here? I thought planes couldn’t—”
“Took a necessary risk. But we need to go ASAP. Can you make it to the plane on your own?” She stood, reached for the crutches they’d found for her, and nodded. “We’ll get Ford loaded up. Rest of the folks, too.”
Minutes later, a bundled-up Angel emerged from the building blinking like a mole just out of hibernation.
She peered at the plane, sitting almost on its belly, with nothing but thick skis between it and the ice. The aircraft was a hive of activity, with red-coated people going in and out. Unlike the ones she’d seen before, this Hercules had nothing printed on the side. A ghost.
Her head tilted back just enough to take in the clear blue sky, the sun slanting down on this place as if bad weather never happened.
Her swinging steps were slow, but nowhere near as sluggish as that final slog across the ice, the two of them propping each other up, when neither could have done it alone.
At the open door to the aircraft, she stopped, moved aside for someone to pass, and turned to look at the station’s blocky buildings, dwarfed by this place, as inconsequential as a child’s toy. For a few emotionally charged moments, she couldn’t move, could only stare and say goodbye.
To an old friend? An archenemy? Like with close family, she’d been forced to endure Antarctica’s foibles. Now, in a way she’d never be able to put into words, she was connected to this place.
Suppressing a sob, she stepped into the Herc’s shadowy interior, where she joined the rest of the Burke-Ruhe winter-overs, settled into a seat, and waited to fly away from this terrible, wonderful continent.
* * *
With the help of his teammates—Von and Ans—Eric loaded Ford into the plane and strapped him in under the care of Burke-Ruhe’s physician.
He told the big bearded guy—ex-army, like his brother—to do a final count and ran back outside for the prisoner. Halfway there, Leo’s voice cut through on their comm devices. “Picking up something weird, guys.”
“What?”
“Something small. More than one. Drones, possibly. Headed this way fast.”
Eric and Von exchanged a look and quickened their pace.
“How’s the fuel?” Eric asked.
“Well, it’s not frozen,” replied Leo, clipped and sarcastic. “Yet.”
“Roger that.” Eric turned to Von. “Help Ans get the ice cores packed up,” he yelled, already running back to the building. “I’ve got the prisoner.”
He sprinted down the hall to where Clive Tenny languished in a cell. The asshole had ignored their order to dress for the cold. Which he’d regret.
Eric threw open the door. “Plane’s taking off in one minute, dickwad. With or without you on board.”
The man s
tood and walked toward the door, too damned slowly. Eric grabbed his arm and pulled him out, down the hall.
They were halfway to the plane when Leo’s voice crackled to life again. “Eric!” she barked. “They’re closing in. Need you back here. Now!”
Shit.
“Faster.” Eric broke into a run, dragging the trembling professor-type across the ice to the plane.
This was the place Ford chose to come back to every year? Incomprehensible.
“Move!” Von met them twenty yards out and hauled the prisoner on board.
“Need to go wheels up.” The urgency in Leo’s voice told him they had seconds to spare. If that. “Like, yesterday.”
Eric gave the sky a cursory glance as he pulled the door closed behind him. “We’re in.” Time to get the hell out of this hellhole. “Go!” he yelled into his comm device.
They were off, bumping across the ice before they could strap in. The prisoner fell to the floor, rolled. Von got him into a seat, secured his harness, and finally buckled up just as they took to the air. Eric worked his way to the cockpit and settled in beside Leo. He exchanged his earpiece for a headset.
“What the hell?”
“Coming in fast.”
“What is it?”
She shook her head. “Not sticking around to find out.”
They’d just eased into the air, a good distance from the main building, when the first impact sounded—sharp enough to hear through the big headset Eric had put on.
Though she remained expressionless, he could see the tension coming off Leo, could feel the airwaves vibrating. Seconds later, the plane dropped, as if it had hit turbulence.
Craning his neck, he could barely make out a dark puff of smoke from the place they’d just left.
Christ. That was close. His heart was thumping fast with adrenaline and a new thing he’d only recently developed on this type of mission—fear. Not for himself, but for his brother, his woman, his friends, and now this group of people who counted on him.
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