Jim Vaughn 02 The Citadel, page 22
"I need the light," he yelled. A small pinprick of brightness appeared below and grew stronger as Tai climbed up to join him. Vaughn reached down, took the light out of her hands and examined the ceiling. It was apparent now why the shaft had filled with ice. The hatch was breached, half open. Vaughn played the light around. Both hinges on the far side of the hatch had succumbed to time and pressure and popped. The problem was, the opening was on the far side of the shaft, and Vaughn had no idea how much ice was on top of the hatch. He handed the light back to Tai.
He unhooked himself from the rung and, after warning Tai, stepped down one rung and then pushed his feet against the near wall and allowed himself to fall across the three-foot-wide tube. He was braced now, in the classic chimney climb position. Inch by inch, Vaughn edged himself up until the edge of the hatch was at eye level. Cautiously, he kept his balance with one hand while he used the other to probe through the foot and a half opening into the ice. Small pieces fell out, bounced off his stomach and tumbled below.
"I'm going back down," Tai called out as she beat a hasty retreat. After five minutes Vaughn was in a position where he could brace his feet on the hatch itself. It took him a few more minutes to realize that he could dimly see. There was light from above, penetrating the ice.
Tasman Sea
The Kitty Hawk is not only the oldest aircraft carrier still on active duty with the U.S. Navy, it is the oldest warship still active. Built in the early sixties, it had been extensively refitted in 1991 and then assigned to the 7th Fleet operating out of Pearl Harbor. It was presently steaming east in the center of Battle Group 72, a collection of the Kitty Hawk, two Aegis cruisers, two destroyers, four frigates, two resupply ships, and two submarines hidden underneath the waves.
They'd just completed a joint training exercise with the Australian navy, and Admiral Klieg, the battle group commander, was taking this opportunity to correct several of the deficiencies he'd detected in some of his ships during the exercise.
This early in the morning, he was on the bridge of the Kitty Hawk, watching as his ships reacted to a practice alert, when his staff operations officer brought him a classified message for his eyes only. Klieg examined the message under the red glow of the battle station's lights. He took a minute to think and then addressed the waiting operations officer. "Call off the present training exercise. All ships, battle cruising formation. Flank speed."
"Heading, sir?"
"Due south."
Ford Mountain Range, Antarctica
The SUSV was two and half hours out from the Citadel and had traversed twenty-two miles in that time. Since the explosion forty-five minutes ago, the cab had been silent, each man lost in his own thoughts and worries. It was Kim who broke the silence.
"Sir, you said I would know the plan when I needed to. Could you tell me when that will be? We have already lost half our party. If we lose you, I will not know what course of action to take. Nor will I know what to do with that." Kim nodded over his shoulder at the sled bobbing along in their icy wake. Min's real reason for not informing Kim about all of the plan's details was that he hadn't believed the plan would work, and he knew his XO would have thought the same thing. In fact, Min still didn't believe they would be able to accomplish the entire mission despite the fact that they had been successful so far, albeit with the loss of five men--;seven, if he included Captain Hyun and his copilot. But now Min realized he had to brief Kim. They were committed, and there was definitely no turning back. And for the first time, he felt they had a chance to succeed.
"We are on our way to a rendezvous with a freighter that will pick us up off the coast. We will determine the exact location of pickup when we reach the shore and can establish radio contact with the vessel. The frequency to make contact is 62.32. Our call sign is Tiger; theirs is Wolf.
"We will load aboard the ship and immediately head for our target. It is estimated that it will take us another couple of days of sailing to make it to the target."
"Which is?" Kim pressed.
"Pearl Harbor."
Kim blinked. "The 7th Fleet!"
Min gave a weary smile. "We are not to destroy the target. At least not at first. The plan is that the mere threat that we are in position to do so will allow our government to blackmail the United States government to do--;or perhaps rather I should say, not do--;two things. One is not to deploy their reinforcing units to South Korea in the face of higher levels of readiness. The second is not to use nuclear weapons once the border has been breached."
Kim thought about it. "Do you believe the United States would accede to such blackmail?" Min shrugged. "The United States stood still when a handful of their citizens were taken hostage. The threat of tens of thousands of their people killed in a nuclear explosion might make them change their mind and question the worth of their allegiance to the South. Even if it doesn't, destroying their facilities at Pearl Harbor, now that Subic Bay is closed, will greatly reduce their ability to project forces into the Pacific."
"But how are we supposed to smuggle this bomb into Hawaii? How are we supposed to hide? Especially once the threat is made?"
Min shrugged. "According to the operations plan, that is up to our initiative. If we can get close enough to the Hawaiian Islands, we can make it.
"We do have the advantage that the Americans do not know we have the bomb. They will think the explosion was an accident. They will not be looking for us until we are already in position. That is to our advantage."
"How will they believe we have the one bomb, then?"
"Once we are in position, our government will give them the PAL code that arms the bomb, along with its serial number. They will believe that."
Kim leaned back on the rocking bench they were seated on and regarded his commander. "They are going to invade the South?"
Min nodded. "I would assume they are already mobilizing to do so."
"Do they really think we can succeed?"
"We have so far," Min answered evenly.
Kim shook his head. "But it is a long way from here to Hawaii. And then--;"
"I know," Min said, cutting his XO off. "I know all that. But it is too late to question anything. We must do as ordered."
Vicinity of the Citadel, Antarctica
"What about radiation?" Tai asked. The crater that had been the Citadel lay two hundred feet away. The edges of the crater were jagged, and Vaughn had no desire to get any closer. Not only was the Citadel gone, but also all the bodies and evidence of the base. Along with the portion of the Golden Lily that had been secreted there. And the nerve agent and other weapons of mass destruction. Vaughn was tightening down the straps on his rucksack. "We escaped the initial radiation because of the shielding of the reactor room. Residual is already up in the atmosphere and will follow the winds. We're all right."
Finished with his pack, Vaughn checked the others, making sure they were ready to go. Go where? was the key question, Vaughn realized. He'd been so happy to make it out of that dark hole that he'd thought of little else. Now, with the wind lashing his face and the cold latching onto his bones, he tried to figure out a course of action. "Let's see if the plane might have escaped the blast." He pointed at the white fog on the other side of the crater. "We'll walk around."
"But none of us can fly," Logan protested.
"I'm not thinking of flying," Vaughn replied. "I want to see if the radio is still intact. It's most likely the EMP has destroyed its circuits, but it's worth taking a look." He looked at the three of them. "Are you ready?"
They set out. It took fifteen minutes to circumnavigate the crater with a good two hundred meters of safety margin. Vaughn was surprised at how easy it was to walk on the ice. A thin layer of blown snow covered the ice cap, and he felt like he was just sliding along, the brittle snow barely covering the toes of his boots. The problem was the wind and the snow that blew with it. He had to keep his head bowed and the hood of the parka pulled in close. He was walking like that when he spotted where the plane had been parked.
"Shit," he muttered. "Sons of bitches. They blew the goddamn plane. Either that or the bomb blast did this. Either way it doesn't matter."
He lifted the edge of the plane's hood. There was little to indicate that a plane had even been here. Scattered pieces of metal littered the ice.
"Where now?" Tai asked.
Vaughn didn't say a word, and it was Logan who answered. "The nearest base is Russkaya, about seventy miles to the northeast."
"Let's get going then," Tai said.
"No." It was all coming together for Vaughn now. "No. We go after them."
"After who?" Logan asked, but Tai already knew the answer.
"The Koreans."
"But how?" Tai asked. "We don't know which way they've gone." Vaughn considered that for a few seconds. His advice that they stay in the reactor room had both saved them and almost doomed them. "They're heading for the coast," he finally answered.
"How do you know that?" Logan wanted to know.
"Because that's where I would go. It's their only option. They didn't land a plane in that storm even if they did jump in." He pointed at the ground. "And that's the direction their tracks go in." Tai turned and saw the tread marks leading off to the north.
"But they're probably very far ahead of us." Logan protested. "And they've got a vehicle." Vaughn agreed. "They must have taken one or two of the over-snow vehicles from the storage shed. They're certainly not pulling that bomb with manpower. They had a big head start and are moving much faster than we can on foot. Nevertheless we have to go after them. If they're heading for the coast, that's the direction we need to go."
"What do you mean 'need'?" Logan asked.
"They've already shown they are willing to use the bomb," Vaughn pointed out. "That changes things. We have to assume they have the other and plan to use it. It's up to us to stop them." Logan turned away from the two of them. Vaughn looked at Tai. "How do you feel? The three of you could stay here. The weather seems a little better. I'm sure they'll be flying someone out here in the next twenty-four hours."
"I'm with you," Tai quietly said as she stepped out to Vaughn's side.
"I am too," Burke said, moving beside her.
Logan waved his arms, gesturing toward the terrain around. "It's crazy. We could pass a quarter mile away from them and miss them. And what will we do if we do find them?"
"We stop them," Vaughn answered, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. Logan looked into Vaughn's eyes. "I say we stay here. We go wandering out there on the ice cap, we might never make it alive, regardless of whether we run into the Koreans or not."
"What happened to the guy who wanted to attack them in the base?" Vaughn asked.
"That was before they fired off a nuke," Logan argued. "These guys are crazy." Vaughn put his pack on. "You make your decision now."
"Tai, Burke, please stay here." Logan pleaded.
Tai picked up her pack. "We need to try, Logan."
Logan reluctantly shouldered his pack.
Vaughn's voice was flat. "All right. We go after them. But you three have to listen to me and do what I say without asking questions. This is my area of expertise."
They all nodded.
Vaughn pointed. "This way." With long strides he was off into the blowing snow, Tai at his side, Burke and Logan falling in behind.
CHAPTER 14
Pentagon
General Morris rubbed his forehead as Hodges came into the situation room. His conversation with the President had not gone well. The Secretary of Defense was on his way back from the West Coast to take over the operation here, but in the meantime the monkey was on Morris's back.
"We have the signature of the blast, sir. Fits the profile for a nuclear weapon."
"So how the hell did they end up at this place?" Morris demanded. "Who put them there?"
"I assume the same person who built the base, sir," Hodges replied.
"Anything from your guest?"
"Not yet, sir, but we'll get something. We're close. From what we've received so far, I would say that it appears the Citadel was a privately funded enterprise using government support." Morris closed his eyes. He didn't doubt that for a moment. Billions of dollars a year were spent by the government on various secret projects. Who was to say that some influential civilian couldn't do the same thing, especially if that civilian had the proper connections in the military industrial complex? "I want a name."
"Yes, sir."
Morris opened his eyes as the door opened, and an imposing figure in a medal-bedecked uniform stomped in.
Morris stood. "General Kolstov. Welcome."
The Russian general wasted no time on a greeting. "I understand there is a problem. A nuclear one." Since the President had informed the Kremlin of the source of the nuclear explosion that the Russians had also picked up, a liaison officer from the embassy representing all of the Confederation of Independent States of the former Soviet Union--;commonly referred to simply as the CIS--;had been assigned to the Pentagon to monitor the situation. It was part of the nuclear disarmament and control treaty both countries had signed the previous year: any incident involving nuclear weapons was to be monitored by both the U.S. and the CIS to ensure that there was no confusion or misunderstandings that might lead to unfortunate consequences.
Morris wasn't sure which he hated worse--;having a civilian superior riding herd on him or the presence of General Kolstov in the Pentagon War Room. Still, he had to admit it was a good idea. He knew that if his people had picked up an unknown nuclear explosion in Antarctica that the Russians said was an accident--;especially an accident that so far had very little logical explanation--;he'd sure as shit want to have someone sitting in on their investigation of it. Morris wasn't sure he'd buy the story of two bombs lost overboard and now suddenly reappearing at a mysterious base. He wasn't sure General Kolstov was going to buy it either.
Ford Mountain Range, Antarctica
The SUSV stuttered, pivoting to the right and not moving forward. Min grabbed the dashboard and turned a quizzical look at his driver. "What is wrong?"
"I don't know, sir. It is not responding."
"Stop." Min zipped his coat up and then opened his door. He climbed down to the snow. The answer stared him in the face. The track on the right side was gone. Min peered back. It was thirty feet to the rear, laid out in the snow like a long, thick metal snake. One of the linchpins holding it together had snapped in the bitter cold.
Kim joined him. "What now, sir?"
Min's reply was short. "We walk."
Kim didn't question. He rapped on the door to the rear cargo compartment and yelled in his instructions. Ho and Sun threw gear out. Lee came out of the driver's seat and joined them around the sled. They unhooked the tow rope and rigged it to be pulled by men.
Kim used his last satchel on the SUSV. The party moved out to the north, all men straining in the harness. Twenty minutes out a sharp crack from behind told of the destruction of the vehicle.
* * *
Vaughn's anger had started, low in his gut, from the minute he'd watched Smithers get shot. He'd been on the other side of the kind of ruthlessness the Koreans were displaying, but it had been for a better cause then. Or at least he'd thought it had been a better cause.
He was channeling his anger into his legs, pumping them as the miles passed beneath them. He was more than willing to go on without rest, but he knew that wasn't smart. His plan was to halt the party every fifty minutes for ten minutes of rest. Every other hour he would break out his small stove and cook up something hot--;soup or coffee. Initially they would go slower that way, but in the long run they would cover more miles. Years of bitter experience in Special Forces with the merciless weight of a rucksack on his back had taught him that. It was the long haul that was important here. They'd continued to follow the trace of tracks in the snow: two treads and a deep impression in the middle. Occasionally the trail would disappear as blown snow obscured the ice, but it was easy to pick up again. The Koreans were heading due north as quickly as the terrain would allow. Vaughn didn't allow himself to dwell on the fact that they were probably moving two to three times faster than he was.
* * *
"Does the sun shine all the time?" Kim asked as the five men huddled together next to the large sled, trying to share some warmth during the short break Min gave them every so often. Min looked up. The storm had lessened two hours ago, and visibility had increased to almost a mile. "We will have no night." Min's best estimate was that they were less than five miles from the coast. The only map he had was one he'd torn out of a world atlas stolen from a schoolroom prior to their departure from Indonesia. It was totally useless for navigating. He was offsetting his compass based on where the map said magnetic south was, but wasn't totally confident that he was taking the quickest possible route. His main goal was to head north--;as best he could tell--;and also stay on the lowest possible ground, skirting around mountains. Despite the bomb's weight, the sled pulled easily behind the five men--;as long as they were on level ground. They'd just spent the past forty-five minutes traversing back and forth, getting the sled up and over a large foothill--;making only two hundred horizontal meters in the process.
Min directed them to the left, along the edge of a massive wall of ice that shot up into the sky, where the polar ice cap had ruptured itself against rock. He hoped they could continue bypassing such formations and make it to the coast. They'd already lost quite a bit of time hauling the sled.
"Let's move," he ordered.
The five men staggered to their feet and placed themselves in harness.
Airspace, Pacific Ocean
"I'm awfully thirsty down here, big brother."
"Roger. I've got what you need."
The KC-10 stratotanker dwarfed the MC-130 Combat Talon as it jockeyed into position, closing in, less than forty feet above and to the front of the smaller aircraft. In the rear of the tanker, seated in a glass bubble, the boom operator toyed with his controls, directing the drogue boom toward the refuel probe on the nose of the Combat Talon. As the cup fit, he flicked a button on his yoke, locking the seal.
