Beneath the Dark Ice (15 page)

Matt stepped forward. “Captain Hunter, this is the most amazing find of the century. It makes the rediscovery of the coelacanth look like an old sardine sandwich. It could validate dozens of different cultural mythologies. If I can just get a few shots of the creature, and maybe a small sample we can at least give the next guys something to work with.”

Alex could understand Matt’s enthusiasm, but had no time for a debate. “Dr. Kerns, every time we have encountered this creature someone has died or been hurt. My priority now is to keep everyone safe and that means getting back to the surface, pronto. I’m sure you can request to return on any subsequent trip.”

“But . . . just two minutes.”

Alex thought of Johnson for a second and changed his mind. A sample would be needed, at least to develop a weapon for when he returned to kill it. “All right, you have one minute to take photographs of this mess and take a small sample. Everyone else we need to—”

Alex was interrupted by the sound of a sliding, liquid movement from deep within the cave. It gave the impression that something enormous was coming up fast. Alex looked at the group. Without being ordered, Tank and Takeda flattened against the walls and resumed their defensive positions; everyone else had their eyes on Alex.
Most were frightened but still self-contained, only Margaret Anderson looked agitated. She had been standing to the rear looking ashen-faced ever since the tentacle club had been dropped in the middle of the group. She held her hands to her mouth and kept shaking her head as though to make the image of the giant unseen carnivore disappear. Alex could see her repeatedly swallowing and guessed she was going to be sick. She was like a deer on the verge of bolting. Before Alex could get around the group to her, she panicked and ran.

Zegarelli called her name and set off after her. Shit, thought Alex. He motioned to Takeda, pointed at the backs of the fleeing medics and made a chopping motion, indicating he stop them.

“This is a right mess, Captain.” Silex didn’t want to miss an opportunity to have a dig at Alex.

Alex ignored him and called to the group to shoulder their packs and follow at double time. Tank would bring up the rear. The last to leave was Matt, who was busy slicing off a sample of the tentacle. He tried to remove one of the tusks as well, but all he succeeded in doing was hurting his hand on the scythe-like edge.

Borshov had reached the basin floor with one of the Krofskoya assassins and was already unhooking himself from his ropes. The third assassin was preparing to climb down when the woman burst from the farthest cave, her cheeks covered in tears and her mouth stretched open in a silent “O” of fear. Just a few feet behind her was a man, his hand outstretched as if to catch hold of her. Borshov could tell just by the way they moved they were not HAWCs—good.

In the pitch-black of the caves, Borshov and his assassins were invisible to the newcomers. Borshov pointed with one hand at the man and made a throat-cutting signal
to the nearest assassin. He moved quickly to intercept the woman.

There was a faint double
phutt
sound and Zegarelli dropped to the cave floor with two small holes above his left eye. In her panic, Margaret wasn’t aware that her colleague now lay dead behind her and she simply thought one of the HAWCs had managed to get in front of her when a darkened shape stepped into her wavering torch light. She didn’t have time to realise her mistake and her last conscious sensation was an explosion of pain as Borshov smashed his massive fist into her face.

Takeda was seconds too late, arriving only in time to see Zegarelli’s fallen body and Margaret knocked down by the Russian’s punch. He lifted his gun and fired twice before vanishing behind a small stand of stalagmites. Takeda’s compressed air blasts took the basin floor Krofskoya agent in the eye and the neck. The second shot was unnecessary, as his first pencil-thin blast of super-compressed air cut a hole from the eye, tore through the skull and exited out the back of his head as a stream of liquefied brain matter and cranial fluid.

Takeda pinged Alex and whispered, “Hostiles have arrived and been engaged. Zegarelli is dead and Anderson now an enemy asset.”

Alex ordered everyone to take cover beside the cave wall and for Mike and Tank to take a defensive position against whatever was rushing up from behind to meet them. He hated leaving them here as he was sure, given the choice, all of them would have taken their chances at being shot over being snared and dragged off into the dark by some sort of weird cave creature. He had no alternative, he had a definite threat in front and a potential threat from behind—the definite threat took precedence. He looked quickly at Aimee then vanished into the dark.

Takeda gave a small start when he felt Alex’s hand fall lightly on his shoulder. He was always surprised at how quietly and fast Alex could move for a man of his size. Takeda lifted two fingers, indicating number of known hostiles. He then pointed from his eyes to their positions; one on the cave floor and one up high at the drop-off point to the basin.

Alex assessed the situation instantly; he had strength of numbers, but whoever the hostiles were, they held the high ground and a hostage.

From a concealed position on the basin floor, Alex heard a familiar, heavily accented voice. “
Privet kak Kanitah Hunter, ya soskucheelsya
.” Though Alex could only understand a little Russian, the deep formal greeting and the “I’ve missed you” was unmistakable. He recognised the voice as belonging to Uli Borshov, Borshov the Beast; the deadly assassin who had put a bullet in Alex’s brain and left him for dead. This killer was not here by accident; he was used for extreme red-work, the bloodier the better. Alex felt a door crack open, a rage storm commence to build. A fury was trying to push through that door and explode out to consume the Russian. Alex couldn’t allow it; not while Margaret was held hostage and they were pinned down. He needed absolute clarity.

Borshov now switched to his heavily accented English. “I know why you are here, Captain Hunter. I just want your test results; that is my only orders. I hate the dark, Captain Hunter; I just wish to go home. Bring them to me yourself, unarmed, no tricks; you can have your woman back and we all go home,
da?
”

Alex pinged Tank and asked for the group to be brought up. He needed Silex and his data and the additional cover his HAWCs could provide—and he needed to keep his internal demons chained; already they strained
and called for war. Alex closed his eyes for a few seconds and inhaled; green apples, but only faintly.

Tank brought the small group within twenty feet of Alex’s position, just out of view of the Russian assassination team with Mike remaining behind for rear cover. He joined Alex and Takeda, and handed Alex some of Silex’s papers. They were just handwritten notes scribbled on seismic print-outs. It didn’t matter; the material was just a smokescreen. Alex knew Borshov was here to kill.

“I’m coming out, unarmed as requested. Be advised, if anyone raises a weapon, my men will take them down.” Alex pointed at Takeda and up at the Krofskoya agent on high ground. He signalled Tank to cover him as he walked out to meet the giant Russian.

Alex removed his weapons and stood out from behind the stalagmite. Outwardly he appeared calm, but he knew Borshov’s presence meant Benson was dead. His heart rate was beginning to climb—not from fear or nerves, but from his supercharged body gearing up for combat.

Alex knew from experience that Borshov the Beast did not negotiate; he traded in torture, brute force and violent death. Margaret Anderson was simply being used to draw Alex in closer so the Russian had a better chance for a certain kill. If he wasn’t careful, they would both be dead in the next few minutes.

Borshov smiled to himself when he saw the American captain step away from his concealment. Uli Borshov knew the odds were against him; his element of surprise had been lost. There was no way he was going to be able to scale the wall without being shot, even if he somehow managed to strap the unconscious woman to his back. He couldn’t hope to take down all the HAWCs; they were too
good. Kill Captain Alex Hunter, and bury the rest, that would complete the mission.

Borshov spoke quietly into his comm unit—he ordered the concealed assassin to prepare explosive charges for sealing the cave, timed for ten minutes. He was further ordered to stay for nine minutes and fifty seconds to witness him crush Captain Hunter with his bare hands; others must know that Uli Borshov remained unbeaten. Destruction of the American team and crushing Captain Hunter’s skull with his fists—perhaps today was going to be a good day after all.

“We meet in interesting places, Comrade Hunter.” Borshov was smiling behind the semi-conscious body of the medic. He was holding her by the throat with one hand, his enormous club-like fingers wrapped all the way around her neck. In his other hand he had a wicked-looking black blade held up beside her face.

“Captain Hunter, you have something of mine, you give it back, please.”

Borshov was a head taller than most men, easily as big as Tank but with the menacing look of a criminal thug. In his black infiltration suit with just a single cyclops night vision lens pointing at Alex he was enough to make most men tremble at the thought of a direct confrontation, and with good reason.

Alex stared unflinchingly into the Russian’s single lens and looked almost bored. “If you give me the woman and surrender your arms, I will let you and your men live today—that will be my only concession.”

Borshov laughed slowly. “You are in no position to dictate terms, Captain Hunter. If you don’t give me what I want, I will take it.”

To press his point he started to drag his knife down the
side of Margaret’s face. Blood ran down her cheek as a huge gash unzipped behind the blade. The pain roused the woman from her stupor and the medic moaned and began to struggle.

Alex knew that once Margaret became a liability to the assassin she was as good as dead; he needed to end this quickly. He presumed the Russian’s primary demand was for the research material, so he threw the papers at Borshov’s feet.

The chains rattled within Alex’s soul; the furies screamed and raged to be released. Alex struggled to maintain control; the woman must be free of the beast before he could act or he would trigger a firefight between the Krofskoya and his HAWCs that would kill them all.

“That’s everything. Take it, let the woman go.”

Borshov didn’t bother looking down at the papers. He didn’t care about the oil or gas now, the woman’s life, or for that matter even his own. His only objective was to remove this insult to his reputation as the world’s deadliest assassin.

“My bullet. I want it back . . . now.” Borshov tensed. His unblinking eyes behind his night vision scope were like twin chips of obsidian as he waited for the moment when Alex’s concentration would lapse, even just for a split second. He knew the timed charges must be ready to detonate any minute now, but that meant little to him. Alex Hunter was either going to die in the resulting cave-in or by his hands.

Borshov started another cut on the woman’s cheek. This time Margaret screamed. Alex’s eyes slid down to Margaret for less than a second, but in that mere slice of an instant, Borshov’s hand shot out like a snake and released the lethal black blade directly at Alex’s left eye.

It had been all too easy.

It was not possible. Where the American captain had been standing there was now nothing but empty air. Borshov heard his blade clatter off into the darkness and in the next instant he felt the woman pulled roughly from his arms. A hand that felt like steel closed on his forearm. A mistake—good, thought Borshov; no man who got within his range could survive against his deadly skills and strength.