Clive Cussler - Treasure

It can have an endless labyrinth of crevasses and treacherous snow crusts that give way under a man's weight. You'll have to take it slow and damned careful crossing it."

"any other comment?" There was none. Hollis gave a side glance to Dillenger. "How much time will you'require from air drop to attack readiness?"

"It would help if I knew wind velocity and direction."

"Nine days out of ten it blows from the southeast," answered Findley.

"Average velocity is about ten kilometers an hour, but it can easily gust to a hundred."

Dillenger stared pensively for a few moments at the small mountains rising behind the glacier. He tried to visualize the scene at night, sense the severity of the wind. He ticked off the time inside his head.

Then he looked up.

"Forty to forty-five minutes from air drop to ship assault."

"Pardon me for telling you your job, Major," said Pitt. "But you're cutting it too fine."

Findley nodded. "I agree. I've hiked the glacier on many occasions.

The ice ridges make it slow going."

In a smooth, greased movement, Dillenger pulled a long, wicked-looking Bowie knife, angled between hilt and blade, from a sheath behind his back and used the spiked tip as a pointer. 'The way I see it, we'll make our jump on the backside of the mountain to the right of the glacier. This should hide our C-140 transport from the ship's radar.

Using the preveiling winds, which hopefully will run true to pattern, we'll glide our 'stealth parachutes' around the mountain for seven kilometers, landing within one kilometer from the glacier's forward wall.

Time from jump until we regroup on the ice, I'd judge eighteen minutes.

Time to walk to glacier's edge; another twenty minutes. Six more minutes to prepare repel operation. Total time; forty-four minutes."

"I'd double it if I were you," said Giordino disapprovingly. "You'll have a hell of a time meeting a deadline if some of your men fall in a crevasse. The dive team won't be aware of the delay."

Hollis shot Al a look he usually reserved for war protesters. "This isn't World War One, Mr. Giordino. We don't have to synchronize watches before we go over the top. Each man is custom-fitted with a miniaturized radio receiver in his ear and a microphone inside his ski mask. No matter whether Major Dillenger and his team are late or mine is early, so long as we are in constant communication, we can coordinate a joint assault-"

"One other thing," Pitt broke in. "I assume your weapons are silenced."

"They are," Hollis assured him. "Why?"

"One burst from an unsilenced machine gun could bring down the wall of the glacier."

"I can't speak for the hijackers."

"Then you better kill them quick," muttered Giordino.

"We don't train to take terrorists as prisoners," Hollis said with a cold, ominous grin. "Now then, if our visitors can restrain their criticisms, are there any questions?"

Dive-team leader Richard Banning raised his hand. "Sir?"

"Henning?"

"Will we be approaching the ship underwater or on the surface?"

Hollis simply used a ballpoint pen as a pointer. He tapped it on a small island in the fjord that was behind a point of land and out of sight from the ship. "Our team will be ferried by Pigeon Carrier to this island. Distance to the Lady Flamborough is about three kilometers. The water is too cold for a swim that far, so we'll stay dry and move in by rubber boats. If Mr. Findley is correct about the frost smoke, we should be able to approach without detection. If it's dissipated, we'll enter the water two hundred meters away and dive until we reach the hull."

"A lot of balls will be iced if we have to wait very long for Major Dillenger's team to get in place."

A small wave of laughter echoed from the eighty men gathered around the table.

Hollis sighed and gave a broad smile. "I don't intend to freeze mine.

We'll give the Major an ample head start."

Gunn raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Gunn," Hollis said wearily. "What's on your mind now? Did I forget something?"

"Just curiosity, Colonel. How will you know if the hijackers somehow get wind of the assault and lay a trap?"

"One of our aircraft is filled with advanced electronic-surveillance equipment. It will fly a circular pattern seven Miles above the Lady Flamborough, detecting any radio transmissions sent by the hijackers to their collaborators outside the region. They'd scream like madmen if they thought a Special Operations Force was closing the net around them.

The Communications men and translators can intercept all transmissions and alert us in plenty of time."

Pitt made a casual motion with one hand.

"Yes, Mr. Pitt."

"I hope you haven't forgotten the NUMA party." Hollis lifted an eyebrow.

"No, I haven't forgotten." He turned to the geologist. "Mr. Findley, where did you say the old abandoned mine was located?"

"I neglected to place it," replied Findley matter-of-factly. "But since you're interested-" He paused and placed a match cover on the side of a small mount overlooking the glacier and the fjord. "She sits here, about two and a half kilometers from the forward edge of the glacier and the ship."

Hollis turned to Pitt- "That's where you'll be. You can serve as an observation post."

"Some observation post," grumbled Giordino- "In the dark and rain and sleet, we'd be lucky to see our own shoelaces."

"CozY and safe and out of harm's way," Pitt said pontifically. "We may light a fire in the stove and have ourselves a picnic."

"You do that," Hollis said with some satisfaction. He looked around at the assembled men. "Well, gentlemen, I won't bore you with a gung ho pep talk. Let's just do our jobs and save some lives."

"And will just one for the Gipper," Giordino muttered. "What did you say?"

"Al was saying what an honor it was to be part of an elite fighting force," said Pitt.

Hollis gave Giordino a stare that would cut glass. "Special Operations Forces do not give out honorary memberships. You civilians will stay back out of the way." Hollis turned to Dillenger. "If any of these NUMA people attempt to set foot on the ship before I give permission, shoot them. That's an order."

"A pleasure," Dillenger grinned sharkishly.

Giordino shrugged. "They certainily know how to vent wrath around here."

Pitt did not share Giordino's caustic mood. He understood perfectly Hollis's position. His men were professional, a team. He gazed around at them, big, quiet men, ranged in a mugh circle around the model. None was over twenty-five.

As he stared into their faces he couldn't help wondering which ones were going to die in a few short hours.

"How much longer?" Machado asked Ammar as he sprawled on Captain Collins's settee.

With no ship's power, the Captain's cabin was dimly lit by four flashlights strategically hung from the ceiling. Ammar shrugged indifferently while he read from the Koran. "You spend more time in the communications room than I do. You tell me."

Machado made a spitting gesture at the deck. "I am sick of waiting around like a pregnant duck. I say shoot the lot of them and get the hell away from this barren purgatory.

Ammar looked at his peer in the business of murder. Machado was sloppy in his habits. His hair was oily and his fingernails wedged with dirt.

One whiff at two paces was enough to recognize he seldom bathed. Ammar respected Machado as a dangerous threat, but beyond that there was only disgust.

Machado rolled off the settee to his feet and restlessly roamed the cabin before settling in a chair. "We should have received instructions twenty-four hours ago," he said. "Topiltzin is not one to hesitate."

"Neither is Akhmad Yazid," said Ammar while keeping his eyes focused on the Koran. "He and Allah will provide."

"Provide what? Helicopters, a ship, a submarine, before we're discovered? You know the answer, my Egyptian friend, yet you sit like your Sphinx."