Craig bristled at the clear insult.
“What do you mean a sonic charge?” Matt interrupted. “I thought it was a nuclear bomb?”
Petkov’s gaze flicked to him, then back to Craig. The Russian admiral knew the true enemy here. “The device has a nuclear trigger. After a sixty-second sonic pulse, the main reactor will go critical and blow. It’ll take out the entire island.”
Craig shoved his pistol closer, threatening. The hammer cocked back.
Unfazed, Petkov simply tapped his exposed wrist monitor. “The trigger is also tied to my own heartbeat. A fail-safe. Kill me and the time before detonation will drop to one minute.”
“Then maybe something else will persuade you.” He shifted his pistol and pointed it at Petkov’s father’s head. “Matt told me your story. Your father took the elixir along with the Eskimos. If he did that, then a part of him wanted to live.”
Petkov remained unreadable, stone. But there was no response this time.
“Like the boy, he may still be alive even now. Would you take that chance at rebirth from him? I understand the shame and grief that drove your father to his decision, but there can be no redemption in death, only in life. Would you deny your father that?” Craig stepped forward and crushed the glass syringe Vladimir had used decades ago. “He injected himself. He wanted to live.”
Petkov glanced to his father. One hand twitched up, then down, plainly wavering.
Matt pressed, “And what about little Maki? Your father put him to the final test himself, the boy he took as his foster son. He wanted the boy to live. So if not for yourself or your father, consider the boy.”
Petkov sighed. His eyes closed. The silence became a physical weight on them all. Finally, tired words flowed from the admiral. “The abort code is a series of letters. They must be entered forward, then reentered backward.”
“Tell me,” Craig urged. “Please.”
Petkov opened his eyes. “If I do, I want one promise from you.”
“What is that?”
“Do with me what you will, but protect the boy.”
Craig narrowed one eye. “Of course.”
“No research labs. You mentioned using him again as an issledovatelskiy subyekt, a research subject.” He indicated the wall of syringes. “You have more than enough here. Just let the boy live a normal life.”
Craig nodded. “I swear.”
Petkov sighed again. “I suggest you write the code down.”
Craig pulled a small handheld device from his pocket. “A digital recorder.”
Petkov shrugged. “The code is L-E-D-I-V-A-Y-B-E-T-A-Y-U-B-O-RG-V.”
Craig played it back to make sure he got it right.
The admiral nodded. “That’s it.”
“Very good.” Craig lifted his pistol and pulled the trigger.
The noise in the small space sounded like a grenade. Several of the syringes shattered.
Again, Matt was startled from the sudden violence. He stumbled back. The guard at the door, obeying some hidden signal, snatched the rifle from his fingers. The other soldier’s weapon pointed at his face.
Petkov remained on the floor. His father’s body had fallen over his legs, headless now. The frozen skull had shattered half away from the point-blank shot.
Matt gaped at Craig.
The man shrugged. “This time I did it because I was pissed off.”
8:49 P.M.
Victor held his father’s body. Parts of his skull littered his lap, the floor, the shelves. A shard had sliced his own cheek, deeply, but he barely felt the sting. He clutched the cold flesh.
A moment ago, there had been hope that some part of his father yet lived, suspended in time. But now all such hopes had been shattered away as thoroughly as the frozen skull.
Dead.
Again.
How could the pain be so fresh after so many years?
Though his heart thudded painfully in his chest, no tears came. He had shed his tears for his father when he was a boy. He had no more.
Craig spoke by the door to one of his guards. “Take them both to the cells to join the others. Bring the woman and boy down, too.”
The boy…
Viktor stirred, finding purpose. “You swore,” he called out hoarsely.
Craig paused at the door. “I will keep my promise as long as you haven’t lied.”
8:50 P.M.
Matt watched the admiral struggle to his feet and noted there was still a strength to him. Petkov’s hands were bound so that he couldn’t access the wrist monitor, and in short order, he and Petkov were escorted at gunpoint from the room.
It was over. Craig had won.
With the bomb deactivated, the bastard had plenty of time to recall the remainder of the Delta team and dig himself free. And with the notes and samples, he had all he needed from the ice station.
All that was left was to clean up the mess.
Returned to their cell, Matt and Petkov drew stunned gazes from the other prisoners, Ogden and the two biology students in one cell, Washburn alone in the other.
It didn’t take long for Jenny and Maki to be herded down as well. They were thrust into the cell with Washburn.
Matt met Jenny at the bars. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. Her face was ashen, but her eyes were twin sparks of hellfire. Washburn took Maki from Jenny and sat with the boy on the bed. He seemed fascinated by the lieutenant’s dark skin.
“What happened?” Jenny asked.
“Craig got the samples, the books, and the abort code.”
Petkov stirred behind Matt, speaking for the first time. “The huyok got nothing,” he spat out thickly.
Matt turned to the man. His face was pure ice. “What do you mean?”
“There is no abort code for the Polaris Array.”
It took half a second for Matt to assimilate the information. The admiral had tricked Craig, outfoxed him at his own game. And while Matt might have appreciated it in other circumstances, the outcome was bleak for all of them.
“In twenty-nine minutes,” Petkov said, “the world ends.”
18
North Star
APRIL 9, 8:52 P.M.
ICE STATION GRENDEL
Perched on the elevator platform, Craig typed in the code on the electronic keyboard wired to the titanium sphere. He hurried. They had wasted a precious ten minutes hooking up the connection.
Still, despite the urgency, Craig carefully listened to the digital recording. He typed in each letter as dictated. Then, as directed by the admiral, he retyped the same sequence in reverse this time. His fingers moved quickly and surely.
V-G-R-O-B-U-Y-A-T-E-B-Y-A-V-I-D-E-L