ICEBOUND By Dean Koontz

Trembling, visibly, Lin said, “It’s more than spying. Anyway, goddammit, that’s no reason for us to legitimize the Ilya Pogodin!” He slammed his left fist into the open palm of his right hand.

Brian winced at the gesture and glanced at Harry.

Harry wondered if that might be the same hand—and the same violent temper—that had turned against Brian out on the ice.

Gently putting one hand on Lin’s shoulder, Rita said, “George, calm down. What do you mean, ‘legitimize’ it? You aren’t making a great deal of sense.”

Whipping around to face her as though she had threatened him, Lin said, “Don’t you realize why these Russians want to rescue us? They aren’t acting out of any humanitarian principles. It’s strictly the propaganda value of the situation that interests them. They’re going to use us. At best, we’re pawns to them. They’re going to use us to generate pro-Russian sentiment in the world press.”

“That’s certainly true,” Harry said.

Lin turned to him again, hopeful of making a convert. “Of course it’s true.”

“At least in part.”

“No, Harry. Not partly true. It’s entirely true. Entirely. And we can’t let them get away with it!”

“We’re in no position to reject them,” Harry said.

“Unless we stay here and die,” Roger Breskin said. His deep voice, although devoid of emotion, gave his simple statement the quality of an ominous prophecy.

Pete’s patience with Lin had been exhausted. “Is that what you want, George? Have you taken leave of your senses altogether? Do you want to stay here and die?”

Lin was flustered. He shook his head: no. “But you’ve got to see—“

“No.”

“Don’t you understand…?”

“What?”

“What they are, what they want?” the Chinese said with such misery that Harry felt sorry for him. “They’re… they’re…”

Pete pressed his point. “Do you want to stay here and die? That’s the only question that matters. That’s the bottom line. Do you want to die?”

Lin fidgeted, searched their faces for a sign of support, and then looked down at the floor. “No. Of course not. Nobody wants to die. I’m just… just … Sorry. Excuse me.” He walked to the far end of the cave and began to pace as he had done earlier, when he had been embarrassed about the way he had treated Brian.

Leaning close to Rita, Harry whispered, “Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“Sure,” she said with a big, theatrical smile. “We can discuss the international communist conspiracy.”

“Ho ho.”

“He’s such a charming conversationalist.”

“You know what I’m asking,” Harry murmured conspiratorially. “Lift his spirits.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

“If you aren’t, then nobody it. Go on, tell him about your own fear, how you deal with it every single day. None of them know how difficult it is for you to be here, what a challenge it is for you every day. Hearing about that might give George the courage to face up to what he fears.”

“If he’s the one who clubbed Brian, I don’t care what he fears.”

“We don’t know it was George.”

“He’s a better bet than the Loch Ness monster.”

“Please, Rita.”

She sighed, relented, and went to have a word with George Lin at the back of the ice cave.

Harry joined the others, nearer the entrance.

Roger Breskin had taken hi watch from a zippered pocket in his parka. “Five after nine.”

“Less than three hours,” Claude said.

“Can it be done in three hours?” Brian wondered. “Can they get to us and take us off the ice in just three hours?”

“If they can’t,” Harry said, trying to lighten the moment, “I’m going to be really pissed.”

9:10

Emil Zhukov climbed onto the bridge with a Thermos of hot tea and three aluminum mugs. “Have they assembled the gun?”

“A few minutes yet,” Gorov said. He held one of the mugs while the first officer poured the tea.

Suddenly the night smelled of herbs and lemons and honey, and Nikita Gorov’s mouth watered. Then the wind caught the fragrant steam rising from the mug, crystallized it, and carried it away from him. He sipped the brew and smiled. Already the tea was growing cool, but sufficient heat remained to put an end to the chills that had been racing along his spine.

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