Dominic Conlon - Arctic Firepath

‘Navy Diver Peters, sir.’

Captain White struggled to sit upright. ‘We’re mighty glad to see you, Peters. What do you want us to do?’

‘I see you’re ready for us. Once the first party are aboard the PRM please could you get the second group together? If you have any injured, include them. Use the sonar phone to let the doc know top-side what kind of injuries to expect. Turn-around time is about an hour. I’m leaving a medic with full kit down here. Is there anything more you need from us?’

‘No, thank you Peters. Let’s get moving.’

After a sign from the Captain the sixteen men waiting in the chamber began to climb the ladder to the cylinder above. When all had left, both hatches were closed and locked. On a signal the PRM detached itself from the dock, and the crane on LK-80 hauled the cylinder up from the depths.

‘Thank God, Captain’ said the XO.

‘Let’s thank him when we’re on the surface’ responded the Captain.

Levushka looked down at the clothes he was wearing. The blood stains on his shirt and jacket had dried, leaving a lurid red sash splashed across his chest.

Sean studied the youth. He had lost the pale complexion from earlier, but still looked bewildered by the events of the morning. They were in a safe house, and a member of the Embassy and a doctor were present. ‘The doctor will examine you, just to check that you are OK. Then you can have a shower. Is that OK?’

Levushka bowed his head and submitted meekly to the doctor’s inspection. After several minutes he packed away his BP monitor and stethoscope and handed Levushka some pills. He spoke to Sean. ‘He’ll do. I’ve given him some Valium which should ease the symptoms of shock. Physically he’s fine.’

‘Thanks Doc. Glad to hear the news.’

Sean spoke to Levushka in Russian. ‘Lev, the doctor says you’re OK.’

‘I know what he said,’ Levushka replied irritably in good English. ‘And I’m not a cripple.’

‘I’m Sean. I was sent by your father Alexei to ask if you would come to the UK to be with him.’

There was no reaction from Levushka. Sean looked at the man from the Embassy. He shrugged.

‘Well, why don’t you grab a shower, and we’ll talk afterwards?’ There’s a fresh set of clothes in the bedroom upstairs.

While Levushka was in the shower, DD turned to Sean. ‘Do you think Lomax will be OK?’

‘He’s as tough as old boots.’

DD cleared his throat. ‘He looked dead to me.’

‘No, I caught a good view. He was breathing when I saw him.’

‘Will they, you know, kill him?’

Sean pondered the question. ‘I don’t think so. He’s too valuable to them.’

‘Will they torture him?’

‘Probably. He felt they would take out the first one to shoot. That’s why he led the charge.’

‘You mean, he deliberately sacrificed himself?’ DD sounded incredulous.

‘Yep. You were there when we argued about it. You know how adamant he was. I was to escort Levushka to the airport. He said I was the agent and that he had seniority.’

‘Bloody hell. I didn’t realise you were tossing a coin to see who would get killed first!’

There was a moment’s silence before Sean spoke again. ‘I’m depending on you to get us through airport security. Can you do it?’

‘I have an idea.’

‘It had better be a bloody good one, then.’

Before DD could respond, Levushka entered the room.

‘You look much better,’ Sean commented. The clean clothes helped, and there was more colour to his cheeks. Sean glanced at DD. ‘If you need to make any preparations, I suggest you leave now.’

‘Good idea, boss,’ said DD, already moving to the door.

Sean turned back to Levushka. ‘Come and sit here.’ He indicated a chair. ‘Some time ago, Alexei bought you a dog. Do you remember that?’

Levushka started pulling a small thread in his sweat top. He nodded slowly.

‘Do you remember the dog’s name?’

The young man nodded again. ‘What’s that got to do with seeing my father?’

‘Your father told me about the dog. He said you would remember his name — do you?’

Levushka raised his eyes to Sean. ‘Petra.’

‘Thank you. And what happened to Petra?’

‘He died in a road accident. Some kid racing his car.’

‘You passed the test’ said Sean lightly. ‘Seriously, your Dad would like to see you, but only if you want to go.’

The lad shrugged his shoulders. ‘When?’

‘Now — straight away. Soon they will discover you have gone missing. Then they’ll be on the lookout for you at the airport. I’m sorry, but if we don’t move now, you may never get out.’

‘I see. Will my mum be allowed to come?’

‘Not for a while. Maybe when this blows over, she could come and visit.’

‘Can I send her stuff — you know, email, Facebook, that kind of thing?’

‘Yes, you should be able to do that. But we have to go now.’

The call came from the Russian air-force headquarters based in Zarya, some 20 km north of the centre of Moscow. Vladislav Kamenev, the Deputy Prime Minister, was asleep in bed. Vladislav grabbed his dressing gown and went into the empty bedroom next door, so as not to disturb his wife. He glanced at the clock: 01:13 am. The caller updated him on the situation in the Arctic, and he knew he would not get any more sleep that night.

His first reaction was to phone the President immediately. Instead he paused a moment to consider the circumstances. The crisis was coming to a head and now the Kremlin had a perfect excuse to avenge the American’s detention of their air crews. Vladislav picked up the handset. After a three minute wait he was put through to President Pavla Duskin.

‘What exactly did the pilot say?’ Duskin’s voice was calm.

‘American forces are using the icebreaker to rescue members of their submarine.’

‘In spite of my orders?’

‘Yes. The pilot didn’t get to speak to the Captain; instead he talked to the chief engineer. He said that they had radio problems, and didn’t receive the order. Anyway, the Captain offered his ship.’

‘I want an emergency meeting at the office. First Deputy Chiefs, Chief of Staff, Deputy Chiefs and principle aides and advisers. Have the Press Attaché standing by. Let’s say 2 am.’

The Deputy Prime Minister checked his watch. It would be very tight to get everyone there in time, but the President did not have to worry. He had access to a helicopter, while all the others would come in by road.

The meeting lasted an hour and was drawing to a close. Vladislav shuffled his papers as everyone began to leave.

‘I’d like you to stay.’ Duskin’s request appeared more of an order. ‘I wish to speak to the American President. Then we shall see what stuff they are made of.’

Vladislav put down his file ruefully and yawned involuntarily.

‘Am I keeping you from your bed?’

Vladislav made a show of looking at his watch. ‘No, Mr President. I am normally at work at this time in the morning.’

The President laughed. ‘What time is it in Washington?’

‘About six-thirty in the evening.’

‘Then let us see if Donahue can be persuaded to break off his dinner engagement to talk to us.’

Vladislav turned on the speaker to the conference phone on the table. Together with the help of the Presidential Administration secretary they connected to the secretary at the White House. When he explained the urgency of the call, there was a pause of several minutes before the American Secretary of Defence came on the line.

Vladislav spoke in English with a slight Russian accent. ‘Good evening Mr Harris. I am pleased to make your acquaintance again. However I think our wishes were not made clear. President Duskin wants to speak with your President. We indicated the need is an urgent one.’