James Rollins - Ice Hunt

“Could they be hired mercenaries?”

He shrugged. He had no idea.

“So far we don’t have much to go on.” Her gaze grew long as she began to plan. “We’ll get forensics up there and see what they can dig up. But something tells me the real answers are going to be found over at the polar base. And if so, the FBI will need to be called in…and military intelligence if the Navy is somehow tied in with all this. What a mess…”

He nodded. “A mess someone wanted to clear up at the end of a rifle barrel.”

She glanced to him. It looked like she wanted to say something, but then thought better of it.

Matt took a deep breath. “Jenny…look…”

Craig had been conversing in low tones, but his voice grew suddenly louder. “Prudhoe Bay, why?”

Jenny and Matt both turned toward him.

“I don’t see why I have to—” A long pause. “Fine, but I’m with a sheriff now. I can’t promise I’ll be able to get there.” Craig rolled his eyes and shook his head. Finally, he sighed and spoke. “I expect a big-ass raise after this, goddamn it.” He shoved the phone down.

“What’s wrong?” Matt asked.

Craig blustered for a moment, then collected himself. “They want me to stay here. Can you believe that? I’m supposed to meet with the paper’s contact at Prudhoe and follow up on events. See if they’re somehow connected to the research station.”

Jenny crossed to the desk as Craig vacated it in disgust. “Either way, you’ll have to stay here for now until Fairbanks clears you. We’re still in the middle of an investigation.”

“That’s fine by me,” he groused.

Jenny picked up the phone.

Before she could dial, the door to the cabin swung open. Her father stomped in, knocking snow off his boots. “Seems like we’re going to get more unexpected visitors.” He glared over at Matt. “Looks like a plane might be trying to land here.”

With the door open, the rumbling of an engine echoed into them. Dogs barked in the background.

Matt met Jenny’s gaze, and both hurried to the door.

From the shelter of the doorjamb, they studied the skies. A white Cessna slowly circled into view, drawing parallel with the wide river.

“Matt?”

He stared up at the plane. Blood drained into his legs. “It’s the same one.”

“Are you sure?” She shielded a hand over her eyes, clearly attempting to spot the call sign on the underside of the wings.

“Yes.” He didn’t need to read the stenciled letters and numbers.

“Do they know you’re here?”

Matt spotted motion by one of the plane’s windows. Someone leaned out, waving an arm at them. Then his eyes widened. Not an arm…a grenade launcher, a rocket-propelled grenade launcher.

He shoved Jenny back inside as a spat of flame spouted from the weapon.

“What—” she cried out.

The explosion cut off her words. A window on the south side of the cabin shattered inward. Glass sprayed the room.

As the blast echoed away, Matt dove to the ruined window. Just outside, the remains of the tiny lagyaq storehouse smoldered around a cratered ruin. The roof still sailed high in the air.

In the sky, the Cessna sped past, low over the trees, tilting on a wing for another pass.

Matt swung around and met Jenny’s gaze. “I’d say they know we’re here.”

Jenny’s expression remained hard. She already had the Winchester rifle in hand again. She stalked toward the open door, followed by everyone else.

Matt hurried after her. “What do you think you’re going to do?”

Outside, Jenny had to yell to be heard above the racket of barking dogs and the whine of the Cessna. “We’re getting out of here.” She raised the rifle and tracked the plane as it arced around. “Everyone get to the Twin Otter.”

“What about running back into the woods?” Craig asked, staring doubtfully at the small sheriff’s plane resting on its floats in the river.

“We escaped once that way,” Matt said, shoving the reporter toward the dock. “We can’t count on that kind of luck again. Not on such a clear day. And there’s no telling if they dropped other commandos out there somewhere.”

Together, the group fled across the yard toward the dock. Jenny helped her father, one hand on his elbow. Dogs ran all around, leaping, barking.

Suddenly Bane appeared at Matt’s side and raced with his master as they hit the docks. Matt had no time to warn the wolf away.

Instead Matt held out a hand for Jenny’s rifle. “Get the engine started. I’ll try to keep them busy.”

Jenny nodded to him. Matt was surprised by the lack of fear in her eyes. She passed the rifle into his palms.

Matt backed down the dock. Bane followed him.

The Cessna banked into another glide toward the homestead. Matt raised the rifle and followed its course. He squeezed off a shot to no effect. He yanked on the rifle’s bolt to crank another round in place.

At the end of the dock, the Twin Otter’s engine coughed once, then died. Come on, Jen…

The Cessna dropped its flaps and dove along the river’s length, aiming for the foundering floatplane.

Matt aimed for the cockpit window and fired again. He missed. Un-deterred, the plane continued its dive. “Damn it!” He pulled the rifle’s bolt and shouldered the weapon, widening his stance.

Nearby, the Otter’s engine’s finally choked and caught. The rumble drowned out the barking dogs.

“Matt!” Jenny called out the side window. “Get in!”

The Cessna now glided no more than thirty feet above the river. A figure dressed in a white parka leaned out an open side door. The length of a black grenade launcher was balanced on his shoulder. They were coming in fast, going for a point-blank shot. There was no way the Otter could accelerate out of the way in time.

Their only chance was for Matt to get them to blow this shot, make them come around again, buying them time to get airborne themselves.

Biting his lower lip, he eyed through the sights and focused on the man with the launcher. He would swear the guy stared right back at him. Matt squeezed the trigger.

The crack of the rifle made him blink. The man on the Cessna ducked under one of the plane’s struts. Matt had missed, glancing only the wing, but the close call had rattled the man.

Unfortunately, that was not enough. The grenade launcher quickly swung back into position. The Cessna was now only seventy yards away and coming in savage and low.

He readied the Winchester.

“Matt!” Jenny yelled. “Now!”

He glanced over. Jenny’s father held open the plane’s door. The man beckoned to him. “We’re still tethered to the dock!” he bellowed, pointing to the rope.

Matt swore under his breath and ran to the plane, clutching the rifle in one hand. With his free hand, he tugged off the plane’s rope tether and hopped onto the nearest pontoon.

At his heels, Bane leaped into the cabin in one graceful bound. From their years together, the dog was familiar with this mode of travel.

“Go,” Matt yelled through the open door.

The Otter’s engine roared. The twin props, one on each wing, chewed up the air. The plane swiveled away from the docks.

Jenny’s father reached to help Matt inside as he balanced on the float. “No, John,” Matt said, and met the elder Inuit’s eyes. He flipped the rope tether around his own waist, then tossed the end to Jenny’s father. “Tie me in!”

John’s brows crinkled.

“Belay me!” Matt explained, pointing to a steel stanchion by the door.

The elder’s eyes widened with understanding. He wrapped the rope loosely around the support. In the past, the pair had done some glacier climbing together.