Dominic Conlon - Arctic Firepath

‘We need a radio. Grigori — a radio!’ Sean grabbed him. ‘Show us where!’

‘There’s one on the bridge,’ said Pierce.

‘Let’s go.’

They raced up the companionway and burst through the doors. Pierce pointed to the radio room behind, and they ran through. The set looked like it had been salvaged from a tanker decades ago, but it still worked.

‘What frequency do we contact them on?’ asked Sean.

‘We don’t. We have to communicate with base, and they issue the instructions.’

‘OK.’

Pierce set the frequency, and flicked the microphone switch. ‘LK-80 to base. Major Pierce here. Acknowledge immediately. This is urgent. Respond immediately.’ There were several seconds of static before they caught a faint voice.

‘Base to LK-80. What is the issue?’

Pierce briefed the base about the reactor meltdown and the consequences if the resultant explosion occurred on the surface. ‘We need to sink the ship urgently. A detonation on the seabed will be better contained. Divert two of your aircraft to bomb the ship!’

A burst of static caused the response to be lost.

‘Say again base, I’m losing you.’

‘Ah, LK-80 we have our hands full here. We’ve been joined by Russian fighters.’

Major Pierce squinted at Sean. ‘At times like this I wish I wasn’t in the military.’ He turned to the mike. ‘Write this down, this is important. Bombers are to avoid mid-ships. Otherwise you will make the problem worse.’

‘Base to LK-80, please say again. Reception is very bad.’

Pierce repeated the instructions. ‘Put two aircraft up from reserve. We need time to stop the rescue module and clear the ship.’

‘About 30 minutes?’ He checked Sean’s reaction.

Sean nodded agreement.

‘LK-80 to base. Commence bombing run at 13:37 precisely. Please acknowledge.’

The sound of static filled the room.

President Donahue and President Duskin entered the ante-room at the pre-arranged time, some fifteen minutes before the meeting with the British Prime Minister was due.

‘Have you any idea what Ashdown wants from us, Pavla?’

‘No, none. But he is cunning and crafty. I feel he has something more up his sleeve that he is not telling us.’

‘He is also extremely well informed. I imagine he’ll want the air crews from your two bombers released.’

‘Why would he want that?’

President Donahue shrugged. ‘I think he wants to use the incident as a lever of some kind.’

‘Did you know about the deception using fake GPS signals?’

Donahue paused before replying. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘You looked surprised when Ashdown mentioned it. I guessed you didn’t.’

‘We have a few more minutes.’ President Donahue gestured to a chair and they both sat. He chose his next words carefully. ‘Khostov made some claims about corruption you had a hand in. Were they true?’

‘No.’ The denial was flat and immediate, brooking no argument.

‘I see.’

‘Tell me Robert, is this all a big bluff?’

Donahue pretended to consider the question, but felt it was uttered simply to divert attention from his previous query. He shrugged. ‘Who knows? But if it is a bluff, right now Ashdown holds the upper hand.’

‘We are both being forced to play his game, and we don’t understand what the stakes are.’

‘Doesn’t it strike you as odd that the PM is holding us to account? I mean, it’s not like his country is in the same league as ours.’

‘You know Robert, there is an old Russian saying: a bad peace is better than a good quarrel.’

President Donahue smiled. ‘That reminds me of an old Yiddish phrase: a bad peace is better than a good war.’

‘Well I suppose we should get down to business,’ Duskin said, indicating a change of mood. ‘Why did you occupy our vessel?’

‘To rescue the sailors trapped on the bottom of the sea,’ replied Donahue testily. ‘It was our only option. Remember the incident was first caused by your ship ramming our submarine.’

‘Robert. This was not a deliberate sinking, but an accident. And you snubbed our offer of a rescue. To make matters worse your military established a camp nearby and are patrolling the area with war planes.’ President’s Duskin’s voice rose. ‘Why should we take this lying down?’

‘The presence of Russian war planes are hampering the rescue work,’ replied Donahue heatedly. ‘American fighters were ordered to ensure they are protected while transferring the crew from the submarine.’

Both men rose to their feet, facing each other. At that moment the door opened and the British Prime Minister entered the room.

‘Gentlemen, I’m glad to see you are getting on so well. Shall we go in?

‘They want to speak to you.’ The XO handed the set to Captain White. While the Captain talked to the program manager on the surface, the XO glanced round the inside of the rescue module. Five body bags lay stacked two deep on the floor. Around the cramped interior the Captain and Thomas were the only two living ones aboard. They had lifted away from the USS Montana some twenty minutes ago. Thomas was looking forward to breathing fresh air again — even if it was going to be thirty below zero.

The Captain hung up the handset, his face ashen.

‘What’s the matter Captain? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

The Captain’s shoulders slumped. ‘There’s a major problem with the reactor on board the ship. It’s gone into meltdown. They want to sink the ship to prevent the fallout.’

‘OK Captain, but how does that affect us?’

‘They have to do it now.’

‘You mean, before we’ve got off?’ Thomas was incredulous.

Captain White laid a hand on his XO’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry Thomas.’

‘But we’re ten minutes away from the surface! Surely they can wait that long!’

The Captain lowered his head. ‘It’s fifteen minutes Thomas, and they can’t wait.’

‘Captain, I have a wife and two children!’

‘I know Thomas,’ the Captain replied sorrowfully. ‘If they delay any longer, they told me the explosion will wipe out all life forms from the Arctic for the next generation.’

‘Give me that phone!’

Thomas snatched it from the Captain. ‘I want to speak to the base commander immediately!’

‘Sorry sir, I have to go now. I’m really very sorry.’ The voice was clear but distant.

‘Just one minute please!’ Thomas paused to regain his composure. ‘If you do this, you are condemning the Captain and me to certain death. You are passing a death sentence on us, when your only reason for being here was to rescue the crew and officers of the USS Montana. Have you no pity man?’

‘I’m sorry sir.’

‘You may not realise this, but I have a family at home. A lovely wife and two children, aged 8 and 9.’

There was a long pause. ‘Hang on sir, I need to talk to the base commander.’

Thomas held the phone away from his ear, and turned to the Captain. ‘They’re checking to see what they can do.’

‘You have a lot to live for Thomas, so I’m not going to say anything — except this. The rescue mission was always going to be risky. We endured much while waiting for them to arrive. I admire your resolve, and the way you encouraged your men. Perhaps you should recognise our time has come. Realise and prepare.’

‘I’m not giving up without a fight Captain.’

The phone buzzed, and Thomas listened to the brief message. He replaced it carefully, and looked his Captain squarely in the eye. ‘They’re going to expedite our rescue. The program manager will remain to see to the crane. As soon as we are winched aboard we are to go straight to the lifeboat. We are to leave the bodies behind.’