Perry nodded and crossed to the radio receiver. They had gone to periscope depth to raise their antennas and send out their report for the past night, but Perry had asked the radioman to attempt to reach Prudhoe Bay. The men were anxious for an update.
Perry unhooked and lifted the receiver. “Captain Perry here.”
“Commander Tracy,” a ghostly voice whispered in his ear. It sounded like it was coming from the moon, faint, fading in and out. “I’m glad you were able to contact us.”
“How is the search-and-rescue going?”
“Still a circus out here, but the fires are finally contained. And we may have our first real lead on the saboteurs.”
“Really? Any idea who they are?”
A long pause. “I was hoping you could answer that.”
Perry crinkled his brow. “Me?”
“I was trying to raise Omega just as you called. An hour ago, someone anonymous sent in footage of a small aircraft flying over Gathering Station Number One just before it blew. It’s grainy, black-and-white…as if taken with a night-shot camera.”
“What does this have to do with Omega?”
“Your base security contacted the Fairbanks Sheriff’s Department and inquired about one of their planes and the identity of one of their sheriffs. We learned of this when we traced the call signs seen from the video footage and contacted Fairbanks ourselves. They’re the same plane.”
“And where’s this airplane now?” Perry suspected the answer. The confirmation came a moment later.
“It landed this morning at your base.”
Perry closed his eyes. So much for trying to catch an hour or two of sleep in his cabin after an interminable night.
“I’ve sent a request to your superiors for those in the plane to be transported back to Deadhorse for questioning.”
“Do you think they blew up the pump station?”
“That’s what we intend to find out. Either way, whoever they are, they must be kept under guard.”
Perry sighed. He could not argue against the wisdom of that. But if they were the saboteurs, what were they doing at the base? And if they weren’t, the chain of coincidences was far too spectacular to be blamed on chance alone. First, the explosions at Prudhoe Bay, then the suspicious behavior of the Russians, and now the sudden arrival of these mysterious guests. Without a doubt, they were somehow involved in all of this. But how?
“I’ll have to confer with COMSUBPAC,” Perry finished, “before I transport the detainees. Until then, I’ll keep them safe and sound.”
“Very good, Captain. Good hunting.” Commander Tracy signed off.
Perry replaced the receiver and turned to the radioman. “I need to reach Admiral Reynolds as soon as we return to Omega.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll do my best.”
Perry stepped out into the hall and ducked back into the conn.
Commander Bratt eyed him from the diving station. “What’s the word from Prudhoe?”
“It seems the key to the whole mess has landed in our laps.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I mean we’re heading back to the drift station. We have some new guests to entertain.”
“The Russians?”
Perry shook his head slowly. “Just get us back to the station.”
“Aye, Captain.” Bratt readied the boat to dive.
Perry tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his head. But too many pieces were still missing. He finally gave up. Perhaps he could catch a nap before they reached the drift station. He sensed he’d soon need to be at his most alert.
He opened his mouth, ready to pass command over to Bratt, when the sonar watch supervisor announced, “Officer of the Deck, we have a Sierra One contact!”
Instantly, everyone went alert. Sonar contact.
Commander Bratt moved over to the BSY-1 sonar suite, joining the supervisor and electronic technicians. Perry joined him and eyed the monitors with their green waterfalls of sonar data flowing over them.
The supervisor turned to Perry. “It’s another sub, sir. A big one.”
Perry stared at the screens. “The Drakon.”
“A good bet, Captain,” Bratt said from the nearby fire control station, reading target course and speed. “It’s heading directly for Omega.”
9:15 A.M.
ICE STATION GRENDEL
Amanda shed her parka as she left the ice tunnels of the Crawl Space and reentered the main station. The heated interior was welcome after the freeze of the ice island’s heart, but it was still a damp warmth, bordering on the sweltering. She hung the parka on a hook by the door to the Crawl Space.
Dr. Willig kept his coat on, but as a concession to the heat, he unzipped it and threw back the parka’s hood. He also pulled off his mittens, pocketed them, and rubbed his palms. The seventy-year-old oceanographer sighed, appreciating the warmth. “What are you going to do now?” he asked.
Amanda headed down the hall. “A big storm’s coming. If I want to return to Omega, I’ll have to set off now. Otherwise I’ll be stuck here for another day or two until the storm breaks.”
“And I know you don’t want that.”
She noted the smile hovering at the edge of his lips.
“Captain Perry should be returning to Omega,” he said, and nodded to the single guard posted at the door. They had reduced the number of Navy men here, drawing personnel back to the sub for an exercise. “You wouldn’t want to miss that.”
“Oskar,” Amanda warned, but she couldn’t keep a smile from her own lips. Was she so easy to read?
“It’s okay, my dear. I miss my Helena, too. It’s hard to be apart.”
Amanda took her mentor’s hand and squeezed it. His wife had died two years ago, Hodgkin’s disease.
“Go back to Omega,” Dr. Willig told her. “Don’t squander time when you could be together.” By now they had drawn abreast of the Navy seaman guarding Level Four. Oskar glanced to him, then back to Amanda. “Still don’t want to tell me about what’s in there?”
“You truly don’t want to know.”
He shrugged. “A scientist is used to hard truths…especially one as old as this base.”
Amanda continued past the door with Dr. Willig. “The truth will come out eventually.”
“After the Russians arrive…”
She shrugged, but could not keep a bitter edge from her voice. “It’s all politics.” She hated to keep secrets from her own researchers, but even more she knew the world had a right to know what had transpired here sixty years ago. Someone had to be held accountable. The delay in releasing the news was surely just a way to buy time, to blunt the impact, possibly even to cover it up. A deep well of anger burned in her gut.