“Why didn’t the Russians leave the ship?” Krysty asked.
“The first few years, according to the legends I’ve been handed down and told to keep track of,” Harlan said, “they tried to chop their way out of the ice. Even tried blasting their way out with the big deck guns. Nothing doing. Had more ice freeze up overnight than they could blast if they fired all day long. So they stayed put, protecting secrets or some such nonsense. The fact was, none of them were going to be able to survive the nuclear winter at the time, nor really know which direction to go. Compasses were screwed up for a long time. Then they had an explosion in the engine room. Blew out part of the keel. They tried to fix it but couldn’t. Only thing keeping them afloat is that ice out there. If this iceberg breaks up, even if it cracks somehow around that frigate, that ship’s going to sink.”
“Do they know the iceberg’s going down?” Mildred asked.
“Did you stop to ask any of those guys back there?” Harlan asked.
Mildred made a face but shook her head.
“Neither did I. But they shot up our boats like they didn’t have a worry in the world. Maybe they’re just too stupid to know, and maybe they’re going to make use of some of those lifeboats they got on board.”
“Hot pipe, Dad!” Dean said. “If they’ve got lifeboats, we might be able to get one and not have to worry about fixing the—”
Ryan froze his son’s last few words with a stony stare. “That’s right, Dean. A lifeboat’s what we’re going to aim for.”
But he knew Harlan hadn’t missed the exchange.
Ryan turned his attention to Harlan. “I want you to keep your people back out of sight. Two of us are going to go forward for a look, get the probable Russian numbers and get ready to go in at night.”
Harlan nodded.
“Vitkin’s probably going to expect something, but if we can get a small team on board quietly, we can cut the numbers down some. Mebbe whittle the odds in our favor. First time things go ballistic on board, the team there will dig in and try to hold the fort while the rest of you come running.”
“That’s pretty much how I figured it,” Harlan said. “When we take the ship, you’re welcome to any boats or weapons you can carry.”
Ryan gave the man a hard glare. “No, friend, you’re welcome. Because I don’t think you people would have a snowball’s chance in hell against those Russians without us.” And it was important to make that statement, because he didn’t want Harlan or any of the other Inuit to get the idea they would be better off going it alone.
“Sure,” Harlan replied. “No reason to be so hard-assed about it.”
“I’ve got every reason,” Ryan said. “So do you. I’m just laying the ace on the line so everybody can see it. Won’t stop at just sending Russians on the last train for the coast if it’s got to be done. You need to know that.”
RYAN SHIVERED as he crawled toward the frigate. It was bad enough the sun had gone down nearly an hour earlier and the full chill of the Arctic night had settled in over the iceberg. The wind whipped away even more warmth.
But the thing that hurt most of all was the snow he had packed around his body. Doc had come up with the idea, dipping somewhere into his tangle trove of memories. Using spare furs and blankets, sinew and bone needles, they had stitched up bulky suits to wear over their outer clothes. Then they had filled the gap in between the extra furs and their clothes with snow and ice chips.
If the Russians were using thermal imaging as J.B. figured, the snow and ice packing would reduce the escaping heat signature of their bodies. And if they were using night-vision goggles, the white polar-bear fur they wore would make them harder to be seen against the terrain.
He paused for a moment, trying to make little distances so a guard wouldn’t be as likely to notice the change. Glancing over to his left, he barely spotted Jak and J.B., clambering along in the thick suits, as well.