"What?" Vaughn was confused.

"What if we get into the Citadel? It would be out of the wind. They probably left quite a bit of supplies in there."

Vaughn was shaking his head. "Even if what I found is the Citadel, it was all covered up. How are we going to get in?"

Tai was considering the idea. "They had to have an access shaft."

"I think I found it when I was checking out the dimensions," Vaughn said. "There is something that's covered with blown snow next to an ice ridge."

"We've got shovels and pickaxes in the plane's gear. We can give it a shot," Tai suggested.

"I don't like it." Logan shook his head. "If you want my opinion, we go back to Earth First South and wait until we get good weather. We know where the place is now and can come back." Brothers agreed. "I don't like the idea, missy," he said to Tai." I think we ought to go back." She leaned forward in her seat. "We're going to have to weather out this storm somewhere--;either at Earth First South or here. If we stay here, at least we won't get caught in the bad weather flying back. Plus, you have to remember we still have that forty-five-minute tractor ride back to the station from the ice shelf once we land. I think landing up near the base site and trying to dig in is the better option." She knew that time was the most precious commodity they had now. She made a command decision. "Let's try to land near the site."

CHAPTER 8

Antarctica

This second landing had been smoother than the first, and the plane was now staked down, three hundred meters to the north of the ice ridge. Next to the ridge itself, Tai, Vaughn, and Smithers were hacking at the ice and snow on the protuberance, while Burke and Logan swept the loose debris away with shovels.

It was obvious to Vaughn there was a man-made object underneath this snow. The shape was too linear to have occurred naturally. He swung the pick, and a section of ice splintered off. His next swing almost broke his hand as the point bounced off something solid. With his gloves, he began wiping ice and snow away, exposing metal.

"I've got something!" he yelled. The others gathered around and stared at his discovery. The metal was painted white, and the pick had gouged the smooth surface.

"Let's clear it out," Logan said, dropping his pick and grabbing a shovel. Shoulder-to-shoulder, Vaughn and Logan used the edge of their shovels to enlarge the clear space on the metal. Soon they exposed a flat sheet of metal, almost three meters wide by two high.

Logan stepped back and looked at it. "This has to be some sort of surface shaft."

"Where's the door, then?" Tai asked.

"There's four sides," Vaughn replied as he began excavating around the corner to the right. Smithers joined him. Without a word, Logan and Burke started on the corner to the left. As they cut into the ice, they leveled off the area around the shaft, making it flush with the surface of the ice on the nonridge side. The wind had picked up and snow was beginning to lift and blow across the basin.

Vaughn worked smoothly, trying not to break into a sweat. As his body heat rose, he removed his parka in order to equalize the temperature, stuffing it into his rucksack. He warned the others to make sure they did the same.

A meter from the edge he discovered a seam in the metal. He scraped ice away up and down and then to the right. Gradually a door appeared. On the far right side there was a spoked metal wheel. Once the door was completely uncovered he stepped back.

"Do you think it will work?" he asked Logan. The rest of the party had gathered around as Vaughn finished clearing the door.

Logan was running his hands along the seam. "I don't know," he replied. "It ought to. It shouldn't have frozen up, as the temperature here never gets above freezing to produce the moisture needed for that. Let's give it a try."

Vaughn stepped back as Logan gripped the wheel and leaned into it. The metal didn't budge.

"Here, let me try." Smithers placed the handle of the pick through one of the spokes of the wheel and squatted down. Slowly he started to exert pressure up.

"Watch out!" Vaughn yelled as the wood handle broke. The free piece ricocheted off the door and hit Smithers in the head. Dazed, he fell back onto the ice.

"Damn." Smithers sat there rubbing his head through the parka hood. "That hurts." Vaughn thought it would be darkly amusing if they had found the Citadel but couldn't get in. The only thing that truly worried him was the weather. He had silently gone along with Tai's decision, but now he was beginning to have second thoughts. The sky was dark with clouds now, and the wind was howling, knifing through his clothes. They needed to get out of the wind, and there were only two choices: go into the base or back to the plane.

He looked at Smithers again. Something dark was seeping through his hood. "Shit," Vaughn muttered.

"Stay down," he ordered as Smithers tried standing up. He carefully pushed the big man's hood down. The inside was caked with blood that had already frozen. The gash from the wood wasn't hard to find on the man's bald head. It was about three inches long and didn't appear to be deep.

"What's wrong?" Tai asked.

Without answering, Vaughn opened the first aid kit attached to the outside of his rucksack and pulled out a sterile gauze pack. He quickly tore it open and then put his mittens back on before pressing the cloth up against the cut. It immediately turned bright red as the blood soaked through.

"He got cut," Logan said. "It's not deep, but scalp wounds bleed a lot because the blood vessels are right on the surface."

"We need to go back to the plane now and settle in," Vaughn said. "Hopefully, this thing will blow over quickly."

Brothers shook his head. "I don't think so, mate. McMurdo says this is a big front. We may be stuck for days."

Vaughn looked at Tai. She took a deep, icy breath, then took charge. "All right." She pointed at Burke.

"You hold the bandage in place. Make sure you keep the pressure on." She gestured to Vaughn, Brothers, and Logan. "Let's all get on this thing."

They grabbed hold.

"On my count of three," Tai said, "we turn counterclockwise. Ready? One. Two. Three." They leaned into the wheel and strained. To no avail.

"Again. Ready? One. Two. Three."

The second attempt was also a failure.

"All right," Tai said, taking deep breaths. "Let's take a break for a second." Vaughn looked at the wheel. "How about we try it the other way? Clockwise?" Tai nodded, and they all reassumed their positions. "Ready?" Tai asked. "One. Two. Three." They all leaned into it, and with a loud screech the wheel moved ever so slightly.

"Again," Tai gasped. "One. Two. Three."

The wheel turned almost a full inch.

"Again."

As they continued to labor, the wheel turned inch by inch. It was slow and hard, but it moved. Vaughn estimated they made a full revolution of the wheel after five minutes of effort. Yet there was no indication they'd unclocked the door. They went at it again, the wheel moving somewhat easier now, and managed another two complete revolutions. And then it stopped. No amount of effort could get it to move any more.

"I think we've gone as far as we can go," Vaughn said.

Logan tapped the metal door. "I'd say it opens inward. It makes sense down here. You want doors to open in because the outside could be blocked by snow or ice."

Vaughn sat down on the ice, his back to the center of the door. He jammed his feet into the ice and snow as best he could then pushed. The others stared at him for a moment, then Logan sat on one side and Tai on the other. Together they put pressure on the door. With a low creak, a small gap appeared on the right side, and they all adjusted, keeping up the pressure. The door swung open wider, the three scrambling to keep the momentum going until it was wide enough for a person to slip through.

"Hold it!" Vaughn finally called out, and they stopped. He got to his feet and peered around the edge. In the darkness beyond he could just make out a metal landing and staircase. The Citadel beckoned. Tai pressed into his side, shining a flashlight in.

"Ladies first," Vaughn said.

Tai slipped in, followed by Vaughn.

The stairs did a ninety-degree turn and seemed to descend directly down into the depths. An open area next to the top of the stairs had a pulley system rigged on top, suggesting that was the way heavy gear could be transported up and down.

Tai shined the light down, and it showed wood planking about twenty feet down and something else at the bottom of the stairs, but from their position they could only make out a vague outline. Tai leaned over the railing and shone the light directly down. "Oh, shit," she muttered. Vaughn leaned over also. What had been a vague form was now clearly the body of a man lying at the base of the stairs, facedown, his hands stretched out in front of him, almost an act of supplication.

"Great," Vaughn muttered. "Come on."

Tai cautiously followed Vaughn down the metal steps. The man hadn't moved. When they reached the bottom, Vaughn shone his own light on the body, revealing a figure clothed in Army-issue clothes, circa the 1950s. Three black holes were stenciled in the back of the man's jacket, surrounded by a red frame of blood. Vaughn knelt down and turned the body over. Sightless eyes peered out from a young face, forever frozen in the surprised grimace that must have come as the bullets slammed into his back. Vaughn looked closely at the face of the corpse, marveling at the frozen preservation. He wondered how long the man had been dead. He looked up at Tai. "Let's get everyone in here before the storm gets worse."

Indonesia

Among the tens of thousands of islands that made up the Republic of Indonesia, this was one of the smaller and less significant. At least to most outsiders. It was an island whose lone small village had been completely wiped out by the tsunami that struck on December 26, 2004.

The village was now reoccupied. But not by fishermen and their families, as the old village had been. It was occupied by a strange international conglomeration. One drawn together from secret meetings around the world. Surprisingly, it was a group that owed its formation to one man: the President of the United States. Because gathered on this small island, working together and training each other, were small elements from the various countries that had been dubbed the Axis of Evil and from the terrorist organizations the United States was at war with.

There were Al Qaeda operatives, Iranian commandoes, a small group of representatives from the Abu Sayif, remnants of Saddam Hussein's elite inner circle, and an elite Special Forces team from North Korea.

This latter group kept itself apart from the others as much as possible. Mainly because their commander considered his men to be real soldiers and the others to be terrorists at best, although they considered themselves freedom fighters.

The commander, Major Min, once more read through the message his radio operator had decoded twenty minutes ago. It was the longest message he had ever seen transmitted over high frequency radio in all his years of special operations. He was holding a complete operations plan (OPLAN) for a new mission that was to commence immediately.

Min's face twisted in a sneer as he read the concept of operations. Those desk-bound fools in Kaesong!

He looked up at the thatched roof of the hut that comprised his team's headquarters. Hyun was a small man, less than five and a half feet tall and weighing no more than 120 pounds dripping wet. He was the spitting image of Bruce Lee, the major difference being that Min had actually killed many more men than Bruce Lee had ever simulated killing in his movies.

"Get me Hyun," he snapped at Kim Chong Man. As his executive officer scurried out to the airstrip, Min leafed through the pages of the OPLAN, his mind trying to rationalize the words. This was going to be difficult, very difficult.

Min had been on this island for four months, supposedly advising the other groups on various Special Forces techniques, particularly bomb-making and covert operations. At least that's what they were supposed to be doing. Min had found that the other groups did not like getting advice. In his personal opinion, the real reason he and his men were here was to make a small political statement to these other groups that North Korea supported them in some manner.

Min had been in Special Forces for twenty-one years and had run more than his share of classified missions, so he was no stranger to being awakened in the middle of the night and handed an OPLAN. This one, however, was different in several important aspects. The first was the fact that it was outside of his immediate area of operations. The second was the strategic significance of the mission. It all looked very nice on paper, but implementation was going to require great sacrifices and effort. One of Min's favorite adages was that nothing was impossible to the man who didn't have to do it. Typical bureaucratic thinking, Min thought with disdain as he read through. It was the same type of thinking that had left him in the DMZ infiltration tunnel north of Seoul two years ago when they should have pulled out at the first sign of compromise. Indecision in his chain of command had left him and his old team in there long enough for the South Koreans to flood it. Min shuddered as he remembered the torrent of water pouring into the tunnel and the muffled screams of the men who couldn't escape. Hyun stepped in and snapped a salute, breaking Min out of his black reverie. "Captain Hyun reporting as ordered, sir."

Min looked at the short man in the flight suit with undisguised disgust. "What is your aircraft's range?" Hyun blinked. "It is 6,500 kilometers with a one hour reserve, sir."

"We need to go 9,700 kilometers."

Hyun looked at Kim, who had accompanied the pilot in, and then back at the major. "We will have to refuel somewhere then, sir."

"If we had someplace to land and refuel I would have told you that." Min's voice was ice cold. "We need to travel 9,700 kilometers without refueling."

"That is impossible, sir."

"Make it possible. You have one hour to be ready to leave." Min turned his gaze to his XO. "Bring the team in and I will brief them."

Antarctica

"How long do you think he's been down here?" Vaughn asked as the rest of the party piled up their gear in the dimly lit space at the base of the stairs. The three flashlights combined with the dull reflected light from the still open door to produce a gloomy effect. The man wore unmarked Army fatigues under olive-drab cold-weather gear. There was no name tag on his shirt. He had the insignia of a captain pinned to his collar.

"He was probably the last one," Tai said, then corrected herself. "Well, the next to last one in here. Sometime in the fifties."

Vaughn pulled a poncho out of his rucksack and gently draped it over the body. "Whoever he worked for shot him in the back to keep him from talking about what he did and what he saw here. Judging by the size of the wounds, I'd say it was a small caliber gun. Probably a .22. You have to be damn good to kill someone with a gun that small."

Tai turned to the rest of the group. "We have got to find out everything we can about this place. I want to know who built it and why."

Vaughn began organizing the group. He stared down the corridor, his eyes trying to pick up details. His flashlight reflected off the metal sides and faded out after thirty feet. The ceiling, ten feet above, consisted of steel struts holding metal sheeting that blocked out the ice and snow. Conduits, pipes, and wires crisscrossed the ceiling, going in all directions. The corridor itself was about ten feet wide, and the floor was made up of wood planks, each separated by a few inches to allow snow and ice to fall through the cracks to the sloping steel floor below.

It was as cold down here as it was outside, but at least they were out of the wind. Vaughn went over to Smithers. "How's the head?"

Smithers pulled back the bandage. "I think the bleeding has stopped." He looked around. "We could use some heat, though."

Logan spoke up. "There ought to be some sort of generator or space heaters down here."

"You think they would still work after all this time?" Vaughn asked. Logan nodded. "Oh, yes. Antarctica is the perfect place to preserve things. This body is proof of that--;the man looks the same as the day he died. Think about it--;the temperature never gets above freezing. There's no moisture. No bacteria.

"There are supplies in Shackleton's hut on Ross Island that were placed there in 1907 and are still edible today. I have no doubt that if we find the power source down here, or even a portable heater, we can get it going." He pointed his flashlight at a lightbulb set in a protective cage on the ceiling. "We might even get the lights on."

Tai shined her lights down the corridor. "Where do you think we'd find the power source?" Logan shrugged. "I don't know. Let's go take a look."

Vaughn turned to the rest of the party. "Brothers, Burke, stay here with Smithers. Break out your sleeping bags and get in them. We're going to see if we can find the power source and get some heat going."

Vaughn, Tai, and Logan walked down the wood planking. After thirty feet the walls disappeared on either side and they entered a cross corridor. Straight ahead was a door. To the left, the corridor had a door, which was shut. To the right, the corridor was open for about ten feet, then a pile of ice and snow blocked the way.

Logan shined his light where pipes in the ceiling disappeared into the pile. "Looks like that's where some ice buckled the ceiling."

"Let's try the door on the left," Tai suggested.

They turned left and tried that door. It wasn't locked and opened easily. The flashlights revealed a room about thirty feet long and ten wide, full of electronic equipment.

"Looks like some sort of communications setup," Tai said. "Everything's way out of date, though." Logan pointed his light at a pair of large boxes that hung down from the ceiling, one at either end. "This is one of the prefab units. Looks like they're each heated separately by those space heaters. That leaves the corridors under the ice at outside temperatures. The top of each unit is probably heavily insulated to keep the rising heat in."

"How would the power be provided?" Vaughn asked.

"Most likely oil burning generators," Logan said. "That's what runs the majority of the bases here, although they would have had to airlift in all that oil. At McMurdo they bring it in by ship, so it's not a major logistical problem. Here, I don't know."

Tai nodded. "The man I talked to who helped build this place said that they brought in a quite a few bladders of fuel."

Vaughn turned for the door. "We need to find whatever it is that burns that fuel, then." Next, they went to the door that had been straight across. This unit seemed to be a nicely set-up living quarters. There were three sleeping areas, each separated by a thin wall. Traversing the entire length, they came to a door on the far side. They exited that and were faced with another side corridor extending off to the right and another door directly in front.

"Let's go straight through until we get to the end," Vaughn said. . If there's nothing in this row, we'll work up the next one over."

Logan swung open the door and they stepped in. Large stainless steel tanks lined both sides of a narrow walkway. The tanks were open on the top, and banks of dead lights hung low over them. There were pumps and various tubes arrayed throughout the room.

"What is this?"

Logan shined his flashlight inside one of the tanks. "I don't know. It reminds me of something I've seen before, but I can't place it right now."

They walked the length of that unit and went through the door. The last unit on the row beckoned. Logan pushed open the door and they walked in.

"Ah, this is more like it," Logan said as he turned the flashlight on the machinery inside. "This must be the power room. Look, there's a control panel." He walked over to a console full of dials and switches to the left of the door. "There's the 'on' for the master power, but I'm sure we have no battery power." He pressed the button with his thumb. Nothing.

"There must be a small auxiliary generator around here to start the main off of." He flashed the light on the other side. "Here we go."

Vaughn watched as he knelt down next to a medium-sized portable generator and unscrewed a cap, shining his flashlight inside. "It's even got fuel. Hold the light while I prime it." Vaughn hovered over his shoulder as Logan worked. After about five minutes Logan stood. "All right. Let's give it a shot." He held a knob attached to a cord in his hand and pulled.

"Shit," he muttered as the cord didn't move. He pulled more carefully, and the cord slowly unwound. Then he squatted and thrust upward. The engine turned over once with a burp. "Damn. This thing is stubborn."

Vaughn didn't say a word. He found it remarkable that they were trying to start a generator that had sat down there for almost half a century. The concept of a place where nothing deteriorated or rusted was a hard one to grasp.

After five more tries the engine coughed, sputtered, and turned over for almost ten seconds before dying.

"I've got it now." Logan adjusted the choke and pulled once more. The generator sputtered and then roared into life. He let it run on high for a few minutes and then turned the choke down.

"All right. Let's see how we get the main started while that warms up." He took the flashlight from Vaughn's hands, played it over the control panel and laughed. "They've got all the instructions right here, almost as if they expected someone who didn't know how to run this thing to try and start it. Hell, it's even numbered.

"Okay, we've already accomplished step one by getting the auxiliary started. The next step is to open up the main fuel line." He moved to the left of the console and looked up. "Here's the valve." Vaughn heard a few seconds of metal screeching.

"Okay. We've got fuel. Now we prime this baby." Logan worked for a few minutes, following the instructions step by step. "Last--;but not least--;we open the power line from the aux to the main generator and give it some juice."

Vaughn watched as lights flickered and glowed on the console. Gradually they steadied. Logan looked over the gauges. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yes."

He pressed the starter button. The lights on the board dimmed, and they heard a sputtering noise behind the console. The sputtering shifted to a whine and then a rhythmic rumble after thirty seconds. Logan was examining another row of controls to the right. "Here's a bunch of switches labeled north, middle and south, east and west tunnels." Vaughn looked over his shoulder at the schematic of the corridors of the base. At least he could get oriented now. The surface shaft where they had come down opened onto the north end of the east corridor.

Logan threw all the switches, and light suddenly streamed in through the open doorway. "All right!" he yelled.

Vaughn looked at the doorway and flicked on the light switch just inside of it. The room was flooded with the glow from the overheads. He looked down at the other end of the room. "What's that for?" Logan turned. The entire far end of the unit was filled with massive control panels with uncountable gauges. It made the main generator board look puny. A three-by-three-foot panel with a triangular warning sign was recessed into the left side. Logan walked the twenty feet to it and looked the setup over.

"Oh my God. I don't believe it. I don't fucking believe it."

Tai and Vaughn hurried up to him. "What's the matter?" Tai asked. Logan looked at Vaughn, his face ashen. "This is the control panel for a nuclear reactor."

CHAPTER 9

Geneva, Switzerland

The head of the North American Table stood up when his counterpart from the Far East entered the anteroom to the Intelligence Center. They barely had time to greet each other as the door opened and one of the Assessors gestured for them to come into the I.C.

An extra chair had been set up, and the two took their places in the center of the room. The video screens around the room flickered with various images and data, none of which the two got to take in, because as soon as they put on their headsets, the High Counsel spoke.

"There have been reports from various sources that a small team left New Zealand and traveled to the Earth First South Station in Antarctica. This small team subsequently departed by aircraft from the station on a mission of unknown intent. We find this intelligence to be highly disturbing, given the timing, Senior Assessor."

The Senior Assessor took over. "The computer estimates that there is a seventy-eight percent chance this team--;three members of which are known to have worked for Agent Royce before--;is searching for the Citadel. However, we have received no report from Royce that he has dispatched such a team."

Dyson glanced at his counterpart and waited.

"Explanation, Dyson?" the High Counsel demanded.

"Sir, I don't have any further information on that. If Royce dispatched a team, it might be to track down Fatima if she is heading down there."

"Not likely," the Senior Assessor said. "Fatima's whereabouts are unknown, but if she is in Antarctica right now, she would have had to fly, and we would know about it. So she is not there."

"He could be setting up an ambush," Dyson suggested.

The High Assessor didn't accept this explanation. "Royce worked for Lansale, who was behind the building of the Citadel and the compartmentalization of information about it. Lansale sent the packet to Fatima. It is possible that he gave information to Royce about the Citadel, and Royce is trying to determine the accuracy of that information. But he still should have filed a report on this to Area 51. No such report has been filed. Unless…"

The last word hung in the air, and Dyson protested immediately. "We received no report."

"And then there is the issue of the I-401," the High Counsel continued. "No report was ever filed on it."

"Because we knew nothing of it," the head of the Far East Table said. "Much was lost at the end of World War II. If our Table was involved in the I-401 mission, the information was destroyed in the ruin of Japan near the end of the war."

"Easy excuse," the High Counsel snapped. "Did you practice that on your flight here?" There was no chance for a reply as the High Counsel continued. "However, we believe you because the data supports you. The computer has done a Course of Action Projection on this entire mess. You are dismissed for the moment. Wait in the anteroom."

The head of the Far East Table quickly left the Intelligence Center.

"We want to know about Majestic-12," the High Counsel said to Dyson when he was left alone in the center of the room.

"It's a cover story we use--;" he began, but was quickly cut off.

"That has been North America's line for over half a century," the High Counsel said. "But Majestic-12 is real, isn't it? And you're the head of it. The one thing that has kept the Organization intact for centuries has been absolute loyalty. Any time that loyalty has been breached, the penalty has been swift and severe.

"Majestic-12," the High Counsel continued, "was formed in the heady days after World War II when the United States thought it was all-powerful. It was formed by members of the North American Table who instituted a coup against those who would not go along. That should have been a warning sign picked up here, but there was so much going on in the world at the time that it was missed. A serious oversight. So ever since then, the North American Table has worn two faces. One it presents here. The other it keeps hidden from us as Majestic-12.

"The computer projects this as the reason there have been recent problems with various agents in the North American division. They have received conflicting taskings. Although we never have to explain tasking to our agents, they are not stupid people. So while it would appear Lansale and perhaps Royce are rogue, we think the problem lies elsewhere. With Majestic-12. And we will act accordingly." Dyson started to get up, but that action was abruptly terminated as metal clamps snapped out of the armrests and legs of the chair, locking him in place.

"You will tell us all you know," the High Counsel said. A door on the opposite side of the Intelligence Center opened, and a man walked in carrying an old-fashioned doctor's black bag.

"Meet the new Curator," the High Counsel said as the man pulled a stainless steel table over next to the chair and opened his bag. He began laying out various implements on the table, the nature and implications of which caused Dyson to break out in a cold sweat.

"You can make it easy, or you can make it hard on yourself," the High Counsel said. "We don't really care."

Antarctica

"How could they have put a nuclear reactor down here?" Brothers asked. "I thought reactors were huge and had lots of safety devices and all that."

They were back in the first hallway, linking up with the rest of the team. Vaughn had given a brief summary to the other three members, who were still huddled in their sleeping bags.

"I say we go to the first set of living quarters you found and set up," he said. Then Vaughn threw his gear over his shoulder and headed off. The others quickly got up, gathered their gear and followed. They left the body outside in the corridor, covered with a blanket, letting the cold continue its task of preservation. Entering the room, Vaughn switched on the ceiling heaters as the rest of the team settled in. Logan was still agitated by their most recent discovery--;almost more than he had been over the discovery of the body. He now answered the question Brothers had raised in the corridor. "McMurdo had a nuclear reactor. The U.S. Navy set it up in '61 and got it on line in '62. They thought it would alleviate bringing in all the fuel oil every summer and be a cheap and effective way to keep McMurdo supplied with power."

"What happened?" Smithers was feeling better and seated on a chair, leaning back against the wall.

"The plant was closed in '72. They had a leakage of coolant water into the steam generator tank. The Navy shut the thing down, and it took them three years to remove it. When we get back to Earth First South Station, I can show you where the reactor was. They'd put it on Observatory Hill right near Erebus, which in and of itself wasn't too bright, as Erebus is still an active volcano.

"They shipped the reactor and 101 drums of radioactive earth back to the U.S. and buried it somewhere there. But even that didn't make the site clean enough. The Navy had to come back and dig out quite a bit more earth and ship it back. The site was only finally opened up for what the military termed

'unrestricted use' in 1979."

"There's no way they could have left a reactor down here unattended since the fifties," Vaughn said. "I don't know much about them, but I do know they require constant attention." Logan nodded. "You're right. This one must be off line, and the rods aren't here. The plan must have been that whenever they were going to reoccupy this place, they'd bring the rods with them and use the oil generators until they could bring the reactor on line. But even so, the fact that the U.S. government put a nuclear reactor--;even one without the nuclear fuel--;down here and abandoned it is unbelievable."

Burke was more concerned with immediate matters. "What now? We have to wait the storm out, but what do you want to do in the meantime?"

Vaughn stood in front of the group. "We need to explore this place. Now that the lights are on, we should be able to figure out what this place was built for and maybe who built it." He looked at Smithers.

"Can you help?"

Smithers nodded. "The bleeding has stopped. As long as I don't hit my head again I should be all right." Logan grabbed his flashlight and headed for the door. "I'm going down to the power plant to see if I can't find out where the actual reactor is and take a look. They had to have offset it from this base a ways, and maybe I can find the location."

Logan, Burke, and Smithers left the room rapidly, leaving Tai, Vaughn, and Brothers. The pilot walked over to one of the beds and flopped down on it. "I'm going to catch me some shut-eye so I'll be ready to fly when this storm does break." With that, he pulled the pillow over his head.

"Let's take a walk," Vaughn suggested to Tai.

They left the rapidly warming room and returned to the first building they'd entered, the communications center. Vaughn turned on the heaters, then checked the gear lining the wall. "They've got a lot of redundant commo equipment here." He pointed. "That's an HF--;high frequency--;radio. A pair of them. Several FM, shorter range stuff." He fiddled with the knobs. A dull hiss was all that came out of the speakers.

Tai pointed to one corner of the room, where a bunch of wires disappeared into the ceiling. "There are the leads that go to the antennas."

"Which probably blew away on the surface a long time ago," Vaughn said as he turned the radio off. A transmitter on the other side of the room caught Vaughn's attention. Several large boxes containing long-lasting batteries surrounded it. A placard on the front read: CITADEL TRANSPONDER. FREQUENCY 45.83.

"What's that?" Tai asked.

"That's how the builders of the base planned to find it once it was covered over. The transponder--;if the batteries were still working--;is initiated by an incoming plane's radio. The pilot dials up the proper frequency--;45.83--;on the radio and presses his transmit button. That turns on the transponder. The pilot then homes in on the radio beacon.

"It's the same system set up at small airfields. It allows pilots to turn on the runway lights when they approach at night and there's no one in the tower. The antenna for this transponder is probably built into the roof of the access shaft."

Vaughn checked the transponder, but as he suspected, the batteries were long dead. However, one gauge indicated they were slowly recharging now that the power to the base was on.

"Let's move on," he said. They exited, and Vaughn paused. "Let's get oriented. Let's call the row of units closest to the entry shaft Row A. The next will be Row B, and so on. The long column to the left is One, the middle Two, and the one on the right Three. Thus we have just left Unit A2, which appeared to be a communications setup.

"This tunnel, designated the north tunnel on the power supply board, is blocked heading to Unit A1. We might be able to get to that unit by going up the west tunnel, but we will hold off on that until we work our way over there.

"Unit B3 is living quarters, where we have temporarily left our equipment and our pilot is catching some sleep." He opened the door directly across. "We are now entering Unit B2." The first thing that caught his eye as he went through the door was Burke at the electric stove. Burke waved a ladle at them and then went back to stirring a large pot on top of the electric stove. "Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes."

Vaughn led the way through the kitchen and dining area. "This appears to be the central area for meals, and probably was designed to double as the meeting area for the community that was to live here." Tai followed him as they went to the next unit in line. This one was another set of living quarters except more lavish than the one they had set up in. There were two bedrooms and a small living room. Tai moved into the smaller bedroom and immediately noticed a large blue binder conspicuously placed on top of the bed. An envelope was taped to the binder.

She picked up the binder and stuck it in her backpack, then rejoined Vaughn in the other room. They went through the door and into C2, which turned out to be another set of living quarters. Then they crossed over to C3, which contained the strange metal tanks and light fixtures they had discovered earlier with Logan. Then on to D3, checking out the control panel for the nuclear reactor. Vaughn noticed just to the left of the panel that the grating was off and a dark tunnel beckoned. A small sign above it was labeled: POWER ACCESS TUNNEL.

"That must be where Logan has gone," Vaughn said. He led the way to the next unit, D2, which turned out to be an extremely well-stocked library. Not only were there numerous books on the shelves, but several file cabinets full of microfiche and three microfiche readers were set up on tables.

"Precomputer days," Tai noted.

Unit D1 was a dispensary with enough equipment to outfit a minor surgery. The shelves were stocked with numerous drugs.

C1 was an indoor greenhouse. Large banks of lights lined the ceiling, and trays filled with frozen soil were held in racks. There were lights on the bottom of the racks on down to the floor. Someone had spent quite a bit of time making every inch of space functional in the small room. The west tunnel was blocked halfway up between B1 and B2 by the buckling of the ice ridge. Unit B1

itself was crushed halfway through. It appeared to be another bunk room. Vaughn went back out into the main center tunnel. They'd been in all the units except A1, which was blocked. He now turned his attention to the set of large double doors on both ends of the main tunnel. He and Tai pulled open the set to the west. A large dark tunnel appeared. Groping inside the doors, Vaughn found a lever, which he pulled down. Sparks sputtered out of the ceiling, and then nothing. Using their flashlights, they probed the darkness, only to be met by the same wall of buckled ice that blocked off Unit A1. It had cut across the base diagonally and continued on through here.

"Let's try the other side," Vaughn said, led the way down the main cross tunnel and opened the doors there. He threw the lever, and large arc lights went on, revealing a massive tunnel burrowed out of the ice, extending almost two hundred meters straight ahead. There was a clear central passageway, but the rest of the twenty-meter-wide tunnel was crammed with mountains of supplies.

"Geez," Tai muttered as she took it in. "They were ready for a long stay." Vaughn moved down the aisle, checking the labels on the boxes. Most of it was food. The last fifty meters of the storage tunnel housed a dozen snowmobiles, a bulldozer, a backhoe, several snow tractors of various sizes, and two large cabins on skis that looked like they could be hooked up to the back of the larger tractors.

The tunnel ended at a metal grating that ramped up and ended in the ceiling. "What do you make of that?" Tai asked.

"I think that's how they planned on getting these vehicles out of here," Vaughn replied. He pointed at sections of the metal grating stacked to the side. "They probably planned on running the bulldozer up the ramp and putting down the grating as they went until they reached the surface." Tai looked at her watch. "Let's go to the mess hall and get some of that food." They retraced their steps back to the east tunnel and turned right until they got to the shaft. When they entered the mess hall, Burke was ladling something into Logan's bowl.

"What did you find?" Vaughn asked Logan.

He looked up from his bowl. "I went down the access shaft to the reactor, but it was blocked by ice about fifty meters in. I assume the reactor is out that way another hundred meters or so." Tai had the binder out and was paging through it. "The reactor is five hundred meters straight-line distance from the power room. Southwest," she said. "As you guessed, the rods aren't in. They were supposed to be brought in and put in place when the base was activated." Everyone turned and looked at her. "You found the instruction book for this Tinkertoy set?" Vaughn said. Logan got up and looked at the binder, flipping some pages. "Hydroponics!" he exclaimed, studying the diagram of the base and the label for Unit C3. "I knew I'd seen that somewhere before. They have a setup like that at UCLA."

"What's hydroponics?" Burke asked.

"It's the cultivation of plants in water rather than soil. They set aside Unit C3 to grow food just like the greenhouse in C1, except this one uses water instead of dirt." Logan shook his head. "But I don't understand why they needed to dedicate two units of their base to growing food when they have all the supplies in the ice storage tunnels." He pointed down at the diagram. "The one blocked ice tunnel to the west looks as if it's as large as the one to the east. That's a hell of a lot of food and supplies."

"It doesn't look like they thought they could count on a resupply," Vaughn remarked as looked at the pages. The binder listed the location of equipment and supplies along with instructions for the use of various equipment, but it didn't say anything about the purpose of the base or who was supposed to use it.

"Look at how far off they offset the reactor," Logan commented. "Over a quarter of a mile away. With all that ice in between, that made a very effective shield from the main base." Vaughn's eyes focused on the one unit they hadn't been able to look at it. "Check out what Unit A1 is labeled: 'Special supply and armory.'" He looked up at Tai. "We have to get into that. It will be where the bombs are."

Tai nodded, reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter. "I also found this." Vaughn handed her a pocket-nife with the blade open. She slit the top of the letter and pulled out a one-page handwritten note.

"Read it aloud." Logan said.

Vaughn cleared her throat and began reading.

"21 December 1956

To Whom It May Concern,

I have no clue who will read this letter or if it will ever be read.You might be here trying to find out the truth.

You might be here in a desperate last stand against unknown enemies or threats.Since I don't know who is reading or what the circumstances are, the less said, the better. Make ofthis place what you will.

David Lansale"

"The bastards set up a survivalist base down here," Logan said. Vaughn shook his head. "No. It appears that way, but if you think about what Lansale wrote, he had no idea who would be the next people to come in here. And why they would be coming. This place was his ace in the hole for several different possibilities."

"Well," Logan said, "this place sure is set up to be a refuge in case of all-out nuclear war. Considering the time frame in which it was built and restocked into the mid-fifties, that was a pretty big concern. There are no worthwhile targets in Antarctica for a nuke, the winds off the coast would keep fallout to a minimum, and we've seen how the cold and lack of humidity would keep things preserved."

"Great place to live," Smithers muttered.

"It's also about as remote as you can get in Antarctica," Logan added. "Due north of here is the South Pacific Ocean--;a spot on the middle of it is the world's farthest point from dry land. Without having an intermediary base like McMurdo, a direct flight here, especially back when this was built, is almost impossible."

Everyone turned as Brothers stomped back in, shaking snow off his coat. "I just poked my head out the door, and the weather's finally gone to crap. We won't be flying anywhere for a while."

South Pacific

"Why have you kept me alive?" Araki demanded of Fatima.

They were alone in the freighter's small galley, trying to get some food down as the ship lurched through the waves, pounding its way south. Fatima had a cup of coffee cradled in her thin hands, as much to keep them warm as to drink.

"So you can tell your superiors the truth," Fatima said. "You were tracking Nishin for a reason. To learn more, correct?"

"Yes."

"Are you learning?"

"Yes."

"Then that is why you are still alive." Fatima took a sip of her coffee. "The world is at war, yet no one really seems to know what the sides are or who is fighting who. The more information everyone has, the clearer things will become."

Indonesia

"I have prepared the plane to fly 9,700 kilometers, sir." Captain Hyun stood underneath the massive nose of his plane.

"How?" No congratulations. Min didn't believe in them.

"Normal range is 6,500 kilometers. If we also use the one-hour reserve fuel supply, our possible range is extended to 7,125 kilometers. We will make the additional 2,575 kilometers using three of the fuel bladders here at the airfield. I have loaded them on board, and we will hand pump the fuel from the bladders to the main tanks as we progress."

Min nodded. His narrow eyes watched his team members loading their gear on board the aircraft. They'd been instructed only to gather their equipment. Min wanted to wait until they were in the air before fully briefing the team.

"May I inquire where we are going, sir?" Hyun held up his flight charts. "I need to plan a route."

"South," Min answered.

Hyun frowned. "South, sir? To Australia? New Zealand?"

"No. Straight south. Over the ocean."

"But, with all due respect, sir, there's nothing to the south." Min turned his coal black eyes on the pilot, cutting him off. "You fly the plane, Captain. Let me worry about everything else. We take off in ten minutes."

Hyun stiffly saluted and retreated into the belly of his plane. Min stepped back and ran his eyes along the silhouette of the Soviet-made IL-18. It was an old plane, built in the late fifties. Four large propeller engines mounted on its wings reminded him of an old style airliner. With the plane many years obsolete, the Russians had dumped it on their so-called North Korean allies in exchange for desperately needed hard currency. The plane was the way Min and his fellow commandos had traveled to the small dirt runway on this island, and it was their only way out and back to North Korea. Kim snapped to attention before him. "All loaded, sir!"

Min nodded. "Let us board then and take off."

Antarctica

Tai worked the small tractor's plow, carefully scraping away slivers of ice from the blockage. She wished the corridors were large enough to bring the bulldozer out from storage. She was sure that would have punched through in no time. As it was, the small tractor was very difficult to maneuver in the narrow confines of the west tunnel. She enjoyed doing work that didn't require thinking. As long as she concentrated on the task at hand she could keep the dark thoughts at bay. Despite her protestations to Vaughn, she felt like she was flying blind here, not sure who or what to believe. The other members of the party--;minus Brothers, who was seated in the mess hall reading a book--;were standing in back of her, shovels in hand and waiting. Easing down on the accelerator, Tai pushed the corner of the plow blade into the ice. She'd been at it now for fifteen minutes and had worked through almost five feet of ice and snow. Of course, she reminded herself, they might not find anything on the other side. The ice also might have crushed everything behind the cave-in. After scraping off another six inches, she dropped the blade, drew back the debris and piled it against the wall of Unit B1. She rolled forward again and dug in the blade. The tractor suddenly lurched, and Tai had to slam on the brakes as the blade broke through. She backed off and shut down the engine. Vaughn came forward with a flashlight and shined the light through the hole. They could see wood planking on the other side--;the continuation of the west corridor.

"Shovel time," Vaughn said. The others came forward, and they carefully began enlarging the hole Tai had punched.

When it was large enough for a person to go through, Vaughn gestured for Tai to lead the way. She slid through, followed by Vaughn, Logan, Smithers, and Burke. They moved up to where the west corridor met a north one. Vaughn went to the door of Unit A1 and swung it open. The five stepped inside. The glow of their flashlights lit up a well-equipped arms room.

Vaughn tried the light switch on the off chance a power cable from the rest of the base might still be functioning, but got nothing. He walked along the racks, noting the weapons. Two dozen M-1 rifles in mint condition. Some old .30 caliber machine guns and .45 caliber pistols. The walls of the unit were stacked with ammunition for the weapons. It was a gun collector's dream. Vaughn noted several cases of explosives.

"Why did they need all this down here?" Logan asked as he picked up a pistol.

"To prepare for anything," Vaughn said, picking up an M-1 rifle. Vaughn put the rifle down as he spotted a door on the side of the unit facing to the west. None of the other units had had such a door. He went to it and tried the handle. It was locked. Tai came up. "What do you think?" she asked, nodding toward the door.

"We haven't found them yet," Vaughn said. He grabbed one of the .45 pistols and loaded it. Then he went to the door and fired three rounds through the lock, startling the others.

"Damn, what's wrong with you?" Logan demanded.

Vaughn ignored them as he shoved the door open. He shined his flashlight through, revealing a large ice chamber, about one hundred feet wide by two hundred long. He immediately saw six crates, four of them very large, two of them somewhat smaller. Stenciled on the outside were the words: MACHINED

GOODS. Beyond those six crates were numerous smaller crates, stacked on top of each other, filling the entire space.

Pure bullshit, Vaughn thought as he walked up to one of the large crates. He turned and grabbed a bayonet off one of the shelves. He pulled the blade free and went up to the nearest large crate, placed the point under it and, putting his body weight on it, levered up. With a loud screech the top moved a half an inch.

"What did you find?" Logan asked as he and Tai came in and watched.

"I don't know," Vaughn grunted as he pushed again. He slid the blade around and carefully applied pressure every foot or so. Slowly the top lifted. Vaughn put his fingers under the lid and pulled up. The top popped off, and he pushed it to the side. A large, gray, cylindrical object, rounded at one end and with fins at the other, was inside, resting on a wood cradle.

"They put a fucking bomb in here?" Logan exclaimed.

Vaughn bent over to examine it with a growing feeling of coldness in his stomach. Lansale's papers had indicated this would be what they found, but he hadn't truly believed it. A serial number was stamped on a small metal plate, halfway down the casing. Vaughn read the ID and then slowly straightened.

"It's an MK-17 thermonuclear weapon," he said. He pointed with the bayonet at the other three large cases. "Four altogether."

"Fuck," Logan said.

"What's in the smaller two cases marked 'Heavy Equipment'?" Tai asked. "And the rest?"

"Probably not party supplies," Vaughn said as he went over to one. He pried it open. Another, smaller, bomb. He checked the serial number. "Each nuclear weapon has a special serial number--;this one also has the proper designator for a nuclear weapon. If I remember rightly, this looks like an MK/B 61, which is a pretty standard nuclear payload for planes back in the fifties." He looked back at Logan in the dim light cast by their flashlights. "You may know something about nuclear reactors, but I know about nuclear weapons, and that's a goddamn nuclear weapon."

"How do you know so much about nuclear weapons?" Logan asked as he came over and looked into the crate.

Vaughn pointed his flashlight at the bomb. "I was on a nuke team for a little while when I first arrived in the 10th Special Forces Group. A nuke team had the mission to emplace a tactical ADM--;that's atomic demolitions munitions. We were supposed to infiltrate behind enemy lines, put the bomb in the right spot, arm it and then get the hell out before it blew."

"What about the rest of the crates?" Tai asked.

Vaughn walked to the stacks of crates past the bombs. There were at least a thousand of these of varying sizes and shapes. He opened one and saw three paintings, carefully wrapped inside. He glanced at Tai. "The Golden Lily. Or at least part of it."

Logan whistled as he broke open a small crate and pulled out a bar of gold. "There must be millions of dollars worth of stuff here."

"Yo!" Burke called out. He was farther in the cavern and pointing at a stack of crates. They had swastikas stenciled on the sides. "How the hell did these get here?"

"Who knows?" Vaughn said as he pried open the top to one. He froze when he saw what was inside.

"What the hell is that?"

Vaughn carefully pulled out one of the gray metal canisters. "Sarin nerve agent. The Nazis developed it during the war." He looked around. There were at least twenty similar crates. "God knows what other deadly stuff is in here, mixed with the treasure." He put the canister back in the crate.

"There's enough WMD stuff in here--;" Tai began, then shook her head. "This is a cluster-fuck. Why would someone put all this here? And how did it get here? I think MacIntosh would have said something to us if he'd seen any of this coming in."

"These two newer nukes had to be put in here in the sixties or seventies," Vaughn said. "Lansale must have kept moving stuff down here over the years."

"But why?" Tai asked.

"Got me," Vaughn responded.

Logan seemed mesmerized by the cold gray steel of the nuclear weapon. "You said you knew quite a bit about nuclear weapons. Can that thing be detonated?"

Vaughn closed his eyes briefly, trying to remember. "There are a lot of safeties on a nuclear weapon. We used to have to pass a test every three months that required us to flawlessly complete forty-three separate steps to emplace and arm our nuke.

"On your standard nuclear weapon you've got an enable plug, ready/safe switch, separation timer, pulse thermal batteries, pulse battery actuator, time delay switch, and a whole bunch of other things that all have to be done correctly. Despite all that, though, if someone knows what they're doing, and they have enough time to tinker with it, I have no doubt that they could initiate it, except for one thing. You can't even begin without--;" He stopped and blinked.

"What one thing?" Tai asked, finally looking up from the bomb. Vaughn turned and headed out of the unit.

"Where are you going?" Logan yelled. When he didn't answer, they followed. Vaughn made his way directly to the mess hall. Brothers looked up as he stormed in and grabbed the blue binder off the counter. He thumbed through, turning to the index. He had started reading it from the beginning when he'd found it earlier and only gotten halfway through. Now he ran his finger down the index as the others crowded around. It stopped at a section labeled: EMERGENCY PROCEDURES. Vaughn rapidly flipped through until he found the section. There was a page that referred them to the operating manual for the reactor in the power room if there were any problems with it. The second page talked about getting the tractors out of the east ice storage room using the ramps. The third page was a handwritten note. Vaughn recognized the handwriting from the note that had been taped to the outside of the binder:

THE PALS AND ARMING INSTRUCTIONS ARE IN THE SAFE.

LANSALE.

Vaughn closed his eyes. "Oh fuck!"

"What does that mean?" Tai asked as she looked over his shoulder. Vaughn opened his eyes and looked at her. "Let's go out in the hallway." He led Tai and Logan out, taking the binder with him. "As I was telling you--;if someone knows what they're doing, they can get by all the safeties on those bombs but one. The first and most critical safety is the permissive access link, or PAL. That's the code that allows you to even begin to arm the bomb. The code and bomb are never kept together, for security reasons. The MK/B has a multiple code six-digit, coded switch with limited try followed by lockout. That means you get two shots at the right codes, and if you get it wrong both times, you don't get a third shot--;the bomb shuts down." Vaughn stabbed his finger down at the paper. "Except it appears that the PALs for those two newer bombs are here in the base." He turned back to the index and scanned. "Here." He turned to the correct page, where a diagram of a unit was displayed. "The safe with the PAL codes and arming instructions is located in Unit A2."

CHAPTER 10

Antarctica

"Latest weather from McMurdo calls for at least another twenty-four to forty-eight hours of this storm," Brothers informed the group gathered around the mess table. "I took a look outside about ten minutes ago and couldn't see more than five feet from the door. The wind is howling out there." The warm air from the overhead heaters blew gently across Tai as she looked about the room. They had discovered the base. They had discovered the four MK-17s and two, newer weapons. They'd found nerve agents and stolen treasure. Yet they still weren't any closer to knowing what or who exactly the Organization was. They'd tried the safe, but it was locked tight, and they didn't have the combination, which seemed to make Vaughn a bit calmer about the whole thing. Tai had her doubts about the viability of the nuclear weapons, but she had to trust that Vaughn had more experience in that area. Everyone was exhausted, that was obvious. "I suggest we all get some sleep," Tai said. "When we get up, I'd like to dig out the west tunnel and completely open it up to Unit A1." Most of the group headed off to the quarters, but Vaughn remained behind, as Tai had expected.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think we got a problem," Vaughn said. "We didn't find out anything more about the Organization, and I'm getting the feeling this whole place was a setup by Lansale, an ace in the hole, almost literally. I'm worried about the bombs. They worry me a lot. Because we're the ones who are sitting on them now." Tai sighed. "What should we do about them?"

"I don't know," Vaughn said. "It's weird, but the people who built this place and put those weapons down here are probably all retired or dead now. Why do you think no one has been down here in so long? Why do you think the batteries on the transponder were dead?"

"Do you really think those weapons could still work?"

"The MK-17s? Probably not. The MK/B, fifty-fifty. And even if they don't work, they still have their cores. A lot of people would love to get their hands on those."

"What kind of damage could those MK/Bs do?"

Vaughn shook his head. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On what they're set at. I think the MK/B has four settings for yield, ranging from ten to five hundred kilotons. So it depends on what it's set at."

"You mean you can change the power of the bomb by flipping a switch?" Vaughn gave her a weak smile. "Pretty neat, huh? The theory is, the bomb is set for required yield prior to a mission depending on the target profile. I'm sure there's an access panel on the casing that opens to that control. I for one don't plan on messing with it."

"Well, say, what will a ten kiloton blast do?" Tai felt somewhat embarrassed to be asking since she felt she ought to know more about the subject, but the military branch she'd been in was more focused on the war on terror than on nuclear weapons.

"A kiloton is equal to a thousand tons of TNT. So 10K is ten thousand tons of TNT. If it blew here, ten kilotons would take this base out, but not much more than that as far as blast goes." Vaughn leaned back in the chair as he went on. "There are five effects of a nuclear explosion. Most people only think of two--;the blast and the radiation. The blast, which is the kinetic energy, uses about half the energy of the bomb. That's what blows things up. It's the shock wave of compressed air that radiates out from the bomb at supersonic speed. If the bomb goes off underground, that wave is muffled, but it takes out whatever it blows near, creating a crater. If it's an air burst or above the surface, then the blast does more damage. You not only have to worry about the original wave but also the high winds that are then generated by the overpressure. We're talking winds of over two hundred miles an hour, so it can be pretty destructive.

"There are two types of radiation: prompt and delayed. Prompt is that which is immediately generated by the explosion, and it uses about five percent of the energy of the bomb. It's in the form of gamma rays, neutrons, and beta particles. We measure those in rads. Six hundred rads and you have a ninety percent chance of dying in three to four weeks."

"How many rads would these bombs put out?" Tai asked.

Vaughn shrugged. "I can't answer that. It depends on the strength of the blast, whether it goes off in the air or underground, and your relative location to ground zero. Plus how well shielded you are. Usually, you'll die of blast or thermal before you have to worry about prompt radiation

"If you survive the initial effects, the real one you usually have to worry about is delayed--;also known as fallout. However, with the strong winds down here, the fallout will get dispersed over quite a large area. The other good side of that is that there isn't anybody down here to be affected by it. In a more populated and less windy area, fallout can be devastating.

"The other two effects are thermal and electromagnetic pulse. Thermal causes quite a bit of damage in built-up areas because it starts fires. The flash will blind and burn you even before the blast wave reaches, if you're exposed to it. Thermal uses up about one-third of the energy of the bomb.

"Electro-magnetic pulse, known as EMP, is the one effect that few people know about. When the bomb goes off, it sends out electromagnetic waves, just like radio, except thousands of times stronger. That wave will destroy most electronics in its path for quite a long distance." Vaughn continued, even though it was obvious he was depressed dredging all this information up. "The bottom line is that no one really knows exactly what effect nuclear weapons will have on people. There are too many variables. The only times they've ever been used against people--;at Hiroshima and Nagasaki--;were so long ago, and those bombs were so different from the MK/B and even the MK-17 thermonuclear ones, that the data is not very valid.

"I think Nikita Khrushchev, surprisingly enough, summed up the effect of nuclear war quite well. He said the survivors would envy the dead."

Tai and Vaughn were silent for a few moments. Then Vaughn tried to smile. "We used to have debates in the team room about our nuclear mission. Most guys were worried about simple and more personal things like whether the firing delay we had been told was in our ADMs was actually there. Most of the team believed that once we emplaced and initiated our bombs, they'd go off immediately. The figuring was that if the team managed to successfully emplace the bomb and arm it, the powers-that-be wouldn't take the chance on an hour delay to let the team get to safety."

"What about if there's a fire down here?" Tai asked. "Would those bombs go off?"

"The MK/B has thermal safety devices that would prevent accidental detonation due to fire," Vaughn replied.

"Do you think we should open the safe?" Tai asked.

Vaughn shook his head. "I looked at it. It's set in the ground and requires a combination. We don't have that. I recommend we don't mess with it. We've got the bombs. You don't need the codes."

Cape Cod, Massachusetts

The old man was jogging along the deserted beach, his shuffling pace leaving a trail of footprints just above the surf line. His head was slightly bowed, the sparse white hair reflecting the setting sun. His head cocked slightly as the sound of helicopter blades crept over the sand, but his feet kept their steady rhythm.

A shadow flashed by and a UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter flitted by, less than thirty feet above the ground. The man's feet finally came to a halt, as the helicopter flared, kicking up sand. The old man covered his eyes as the wheels touched and two men in unmarked khaki hopped off. They ran over to him. There was no badge flashed or words spoken. They were all players and knew the rules. The old man allowed them to escort him onto the aircraft. It lifted and immediately sped off at maximum speed to the west, toward nearby Otis Air Force Base.

The incoming tide washed over the footsteps, and within twenty minutes all traces of the lone jogger were gone.

Airspace, South Pacific Ocean

Major Min looked up from the plans he and his XO were poring over as Captain Hyun approached. Min was impressed that Hyun had waited almost four hours before coming out of the cockpit and approaching him. The interior of the IL-18 was stripped bare except for Min's team, their equipment, and the fuel bladders. The team was spread out along the vibrating steel floor, either sleeping or preparing their equipment for the infiltration.

"Sir, may I speak to you?" Hyun inquired.

Min nodded.

"Sir, as captain of this airplane it is my duty to inform you that we do not have enough fuel, even with all this," Hyun waved a hand at the bladders, "to make landfall in this direction. In two hours we will be too low on fuel to be able to turn around and make it back to Indonesia."

"There's land ahead," Min quietly remarked.

Hyun blinked. "We are heading for the South Pole, sir. There are no all-weather airstrips suitable for this aircraft down there."

Min shrugged. "I know that. My team will parachute out, and then you will attempt to land on the ice and snow farther away to ensure operational security. I will leave one of the members of my team on board to help you travel to our exfiltration point."

Hyun blanched. "But, sir--;" He halted, at a loss for words. Min stood. "But what, Captain?"

Hyun shook his head. "Nothing, sir." He turned and retreated to his cockpit. Senior Lieutenant Kim looked at his team leader. "Our captain is a weak man." Min turned his attention back to the papers. "Are you satisfied that your men know the parts of the plan that they need to?"

Kim nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Have you picked who will stay with the plane?"

"Yes, sir. Sergeant Chong has volunteered."

"Good."

Kim scratched his chin. "The only thing I don't understand, sir, is why we are doing this." No one else would have dared to say that to Min, but the two of them had spent four years working together. They'd infiltrated the South Koran coastline three times and conducted extremely successful reconnaissance missions there. They owed their lives to each other.

"There are U.S. nuclear weapons at our objectives."

Kim didn't show any surprise. "But you briefed us that there was no one there. No military."

"Correct."

Now Kim was surprised. "You mean these bombs are unguarded?"

Min nodded. "Yes. Our objective is to seize those weapons along with their arming codes and instructions. And to leave no trace of our presence there."

"How will we do that and what will we do with the weapons? I thought our government already had nuclear weapons?"

"We are not going back home with the weapons." Min shook his head. "The rest is not for you to know yet, my friend. You will be told when it is time. Suffice it to say that if we are successful, Orange III will be implemented, and it will succeed."

Min leaned back in his seat as his executive officer moved away. Although this whole plan was jury-rigged on short notice, there was quite a bit of precedent for the entire operation. The primary wartime mission of the North Korean Special Forces was to seize or destroy U.S. nuclear weapons. Min had helped draw up plans for direct action missions against overseas targets, including U.S. 7th Fleet bases in Japan and the Philippines, and even Pearl Harbor in Hawaii.

North Korea had never been particularly shy about striking at their enemies outside their own borders, and the Special Forces had been involved in every action. In 1968 thirty-one Special Forces soldiers had infiltrated across the DMZ and made their way down to Seoul to raid the Blue House, home of the South Korean president. The mission failed, with twenty-eight men killed, two missing, and only one captured. Shortly after that attack, on January 23, 1968, KPA Special Forces men in high speed attack craft seized the USS Pueblo. Later that year a large SF force of almost a hundred men conducted landings on the coast of South Korea in an attempt to raise the populace against the government. It failed, but such failures didn't daunt the North Korean government.

In 1969 a U.S. electronic warfare aircraft was shot down by North Korea, killing all thirty-one U.S. service members on board.

As security stiffened in South Korea over the decade of the 1970s, North Korea moved its attentions overseas, ignoring international reactions. In 1983 three PKA Special Forces officers planted a bomb in Rangoon in an attempt to kill the visiting South Korean president. That mission also failed. Later in 1983 four North Korean merchant ships infiltrated the Gulf of California to conduct monitoring operations against the United States mainland. One of the ships was seized by the Mexican authorities, but that didn't prevent the North Koreans from continuing such operations. Min knew that history, and he also knew more than the average North Korean about the changes that had been sweeping the world in the past decade. Spending time overseas, even in remote Indonesia, he had been exposed to more information than those in the tightly controlled society in his homeland ever received. The breakup of the Soviet Union had never been acknowledged by Pyongyang, except in cryptically worded exhortations to the people telling them they were the last true bastion of communism in the world. In fact, Min truly believed he was part of the last line in the war against western imperialism. He believed that if this mission succeeded, he would strike a blow greater than any of his Special Forces predecessors. That was enough for him.

Antarctica

Tai knew there was no way she would be able to sleep. "There is one thing I think we have to do," she said.

"What?" Vaughn asked. They paused as the door to the mess hall opened and Logan walked in. He grabbed a cup of coffee. "Mind if I join you?"

Tai glanced at Vaughn, then shrugged. "All right."

"Didn't plan on sitting on top of a couple of nukes," Logan said. "This is a messuck. You two figured out what's next?"

"We're working on it," Vaughn said.

Tai put down her coffee mug. "We need to make sure these bombs can't be used. We need to destroy the PAL codes."

"How do you propose we do that?" Vaughn asked.

"We blow up the safe that holds them."

Vaughn shook his head. "Destroying the codes doesn't do enough. Besides, the codes in the safe might not be the only ones. Someone else, somewhere, probably has a copy. Probably buried deep in some classified file cabinet. But there is a way to neutralize the bombs. Or at least keep them from being activated."

"How?" Tai asked.

"I told you that those two newer bombs have a six-digit PAL code that allows limited tries followed by lockout. I can enter two wrong codes and cause both bombs to go into lockout. That will mean that they can't be exploded."

"Bullshit!" They both looked at Logan in surprise. "How do we know you don't already have the codes and will arm the bombs with the correct six digits instead of the wrong ones?"

"Why would I do that?" Vaughn asked.

"I don't fucking know!" Logan turned to Tai. "Listen to me. What's to stop Vaughn from arming the bomb with a time delay? Then he kills us or just holds us at gun point and leaves, taking Brothers with him. If one of those goes off, all evidence of this base will be gone."

"I know Vaughn better than I know you," Tai said to Logan. "I trust him."

Safe House, Pine Barrens, New Jersey

The old man looked up as the door opened and two men walked in. The short one carried a briefcase, the taller one carried nothing. Knowing he would never get their real names, the old man immediately labeled them the Short Man and the Tall Man. The Short Man placed the briefcase on the desk, and they both stared at the old man.

Finally, he could take it no longer. "What do you want?"

Not a word had been said to him since he'd been picked up on the beach, flown to Otis Air Force Base, cross-loaded onto a military jet to Fort Dix, then driven to this house in the middle of nowhere. The taller one, whom the man had correctly guessed was in charge, spoke. "We need information, Colonel Whitaker."

"I'm retired."

Silence reigned.

"What information?" Whitaker finally asked.

"We need information on an operation you were involved with. An operation we have no record of." The Short Man flicked open the locks on the briefcase.

Whitaker frowned as he searched his memory. "That was a long time ago."

"The Citadel?" the Tall Man asked.

Whitaker felt his stomach flip.

The Short Man lifted the lid on the briefcase. Then he turned it so Whitaker could see the contents. Various hypodermic needles were arrayed in the padding on the top, and serum vials were secured in the bottom. The Tall Man gestured at the contents with a wave of his hand.

"The art of interrogation has progressed to much more sophisticated levels than what you dealt with when you were on active duty. We're less crude and much more effective.

"You know, of course, that everyone talks eventually." The Tall Man reached in and pulled out a needle, holding it up to the light. "With these sophisticated drugs, that eventually comes much faster. Unfortunately, the side effects, particularly for a man of your advanced years, cannot always be controlled." He put the needle down. "Why is it that there are no records of the Citadel?" Whitaker considered his options. "What do I get out of this?" The Tall Man shrugged. "It depends on what you tell us."

Whitaker sighed. He knew what the Tall Man had said was true--;he would talk sooner or later. He'd been on the other side of this table too many times not to know that. Jesus, to have it all come to this because of that stupid base! He talked.

"I was the ops supervisor for the construction of the Citadel in 1947 in Antarctica. It was a group of buildings--;twelve, to be exact--;that were buried under the ice. The sections--;" The Tall Man interrupted. "What we want to know is who was behind the op and why."

"I worked directly for Sidney Souers."

"Who?" the Tall Man asked.

"The first director of Central Intelligence," Whitaker explained. The Short Man had pulled out a PDA, punching information into it. He held it out now in front of the Tall Man, who read it and nodded. "Souers was a founding member of Majestic-12, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

The two men exchanged glances. "How did Souers give you this assignment?"

"Personal briefing." Whitaker sighed. "It was an unofficially sanctioned mission--;no paper trail and denial if uncovered. Souers brought me back to Washington from Japan, where I was doing work trying to track down some of their scientists. When I got to D.C., Souers told me he had a mission that could be very profitable to both of us and had the President's blessing."

"Who was Souers working for?"

Whitaker shrugged. "I don't know."

"Souers never told you who the place was for or even what it was designed for?"

"It was easy to see what it was designed for," Whitaker said. "It was a survival shelter. As far as the who goes, it had to be somebody that had quite a bit of money and resources, along with leverage with the White House."

"Tell us about Lansale," the Tall Man said.

"Who?"

The Tall Man looked at him dispassionately. He turned to his partner. "I'll be back in an hour. Prep him."

"Wait a second!" Whitaker shouted as the Short Man pulled out a vial of clear liquid and picked up the nearby needle. "I'm telling you everything. You said if I cooperated that wouldn't be necessary."

"I said it depended. You just told us you did freelance work while at the ISA. You broke the rules, and now we're going to find out what other rules you might have broken in your career." The Short Man approached with the needle.

Antarctica

They'd managed to clear not only the west tunnel of ice, but also the entryway into the west ice storage area. That room was as large as the eastern one, but there was no ramp at the end. It was also stocked with supplies and food. Then, using the diagram in the instructor binder, they turned their attention to trying to find the site of the inert nuclear reactor.

Now, Tai was lying behind Logan and Vaughn in the power access tunnel. The tunnel was made of corrugated steel tubing approximately three feet in diameter. They'd been digging here by hand for two hours already. It was slow work because as they removed ice, they had to drag it back out on a blanket the length of the tunnel, where Tai would take it and dispose of it along the south ice wall. She thought it might have been easier to go up to the surface, try to use the sonar to find the reactor, and then try to dig out its access shaft. But then the weather would have been a problem. She'd gone up to the main surface shaft not long ago with Vaughn and Logan and taken a look outside. As Brothers had said, visibility was close to zero as the wind lashed the countryside with a wall of white. Ten feet from the doorway a person would be lost, and only find their way back with a large degree of luck. It was hard to believe the latest radio message from McMurdo that the intensity of the storm was actually lessening. Looking into the blowing snow, feeling the icy talons of cold ripping at her clothes through the open door and thinking about the frozen body lying at the foot of the stairs, Tai recalled something she'd read during her two-hour guard shift: the fate of Captain Lawrence Oates, a member of Scott's ill-fated 1911-1912

South Pole expedition. Scott's party had arrived at the South Pole after man-hauling their sleds most of the way, only to discover a tent and note that Norwegian Roald Amundsen had left behind, proving that Amundsen had beaten him there by a month.

On their return trip, running out of food and in the middle of a blizzard, Oates, suffering from severe frostbite, walked out of the party's campsite into the blowing snow and disappeared, sacrificing himself so the party could continue on more quickly. His noble gesture was all for naught, though, as the rest of Scott's party died only eleven miles from a supply depot. Their bodies were discovered eight months later, along with Scott's journal, which told the sad tale.

"I've got an opening," Vaughn said, snapping Tai out of her ice-bound reverie. He was poking his shovel ahead, through the ice. Then he and Logan scratched away, widening the opening. The tunnel continued for another ten feet before angling off to the right.

"Let's see what we have," Vaughn said as he led the way.

The environmentalist followed, and Tai crawled along behind them on her hands and knees, her Gore-Tex pants sliding on the steel. Fifty more feet and they reached a thick hatch. Vaughn turned the wheel and the door slowly opened. Another two hundred feet. Then another hatch. They squeezed out of the second one and could finally stand. A small, shielded room opened out onto the reactor's core. Radiation warning signs were plastered all over the walls. Tai looked through the thick glass at the slots where the rods were to be inserted in the reactor core itself. In front of the glass was a small control panel with a few seats.

Logan shook his head. "Unbelievable. They really thought something as poorly constructed as this could work. No wonder the one at McMurdo had to be taken apart."

"You have to remember this was put in a long time ago," Vaughn reminded him.

"Hell, even twenty or thirty years ago someone should have had more common sense." Logan ran his hands over the thick glass separating them from the core. "Why are people so stupid?"

"So we have nukes and a nuclear power plant," Tai said. "But we're still not any closer to the Organization."

Vaughn peered once more through the thick glass at the inert core of the reactor. "You know, we might not be any closer, but it might be closer to us."

"What do you mean?" Tai asked.

Vaughn looked at Logan. "You once accused me of trying to take out Brothers. But I know I didn't do that. And I think whoever did only did it to try and slow us down a little bit, not stop us. Because sabotaging the plane would have worked much better. And the only reason to slow us down is if someone is behind us."

"We know Fatima and the Abu Sayif--;" Tai began, then paused as she considered what he was saying. "You think the Organization will come here?"

Vaughn shrugged. "Sooner or later. I don't think our trip down here escaped scrutiny."

"What do we do, then?" Tai asked.

"Depends on who shows up," Vaughn said.

Airspace, Antarctica

Min watched as Sergeant Chong finished securing the steel cable that would hold their static lines to the roof of the aircraft, just in front of the aft passenger door. Min had never parachuted out of an IL-18

before, but he knew it had been done. This type of aircraft was not specifically designed for paratrooper operations, but the team was doing what it was best at: improvising.

Min looked out a small porthole at the ocean dotted with icebergs far below. They were flying at the plane's maximum altitude. Looking forward as best he could, he made out a dark line indicating the storm blanketing the continent ahead. The report they'd intercepted from McMurdo Station indicated the severity of the weather, but also that the storm should be gradually lessening in intensity. Jumping into high winds was never a good idea, a factor those who had come up with this brilliant idea had obviously not taken into account.

Min checked his watch. They were less than an hour and a half from the target. "Time to rig!" he yelled to his team.

Splitting into buddy teams, the nine men who would be jumping began to put on their parachutes, Sergeant Chong helping the odd man. Min threw his main parachute on his back and buckled the leg and chest straps, securing it to his body and making sure it was cinched down tight. The reserve was hooked onto the front. Rucksacks were clipped on below the reserve, and automatic weapons tied down on top of the reserves.

After Sergeant Chong, acting as jumpmaster, inspected all the men, they took their seats, each man lost in his own thoughts, contemplating the jump and the mission ahead. Min pulled the OPLAN out of his carry-on bag and checked the numbers in the communication section. With those in mind, he waddled his way up the center of the cargo bay to the cockpit.

Antarctica

The wind had actually diminished, although it was still kicking along with gusts up to thirty-five miles an hour. Visibility was increasing to almost fifty feet at times. The slight break in the storm could last for minutes or hours.

Below the surface, in the base, Tai, Vaughn, and Logan were crawling back from the reactor access tunnel. Burke, Smithers, and Brothers were sleeping, so there was no one in the communications room to notice when the small red light on the transponder flickered, then turned green.

CHAPTER 11

Airspace, Antarctica

Sergeant Chong was wearing a headset that allowed him to communicate with Captain Hyun in the cockpit. Chong stood next to the rear passenger door, his hands on the opening handle. A rope was wrapped about his waist, securing him to the inside of the plane. The plane itself, buffeted by winds, was bobbing and weaving. Up front the pilots were flying blind, eyes glued to the transponder needle and praying a mountainside didn't suddenly appear out of the swirling clouds.

"One minute out, sir!" he yelled to Major Min.

Min turned and looked over his shoulder at the men. "Remove the coverings on your canopy releases," he ordered. The jumpers popped the metal covering on each shoulder. These metal pieces protected the small steel cable loops that controlled the connection of the harness to the parachute risers; pulling the loops would release the risers, separating the jumper from his parachute. Doing this in the air would result in death, but Min had a reason for taking this dangerous step prior to exiting the aircraft. He shuffled a little closer to the door, his parachute and rucksack doubling his weight. "Open the door," he ordered Chong. "Activate trackers," he called back to the rest of the team. Then Min reached down and activated the small transponder/receiver strapped to his right forearm. Chong twisted the handle on the door. It swung in with a freezing swoosh. They'd depressurized a half hour ago and were now flying in the middle of the storm and still descending. They were at an estimated altitude of 1,500 feet above the ground.

Snow swirled in the open door, along with bone-chilling cold. Min didn't even bother taking a look--;he knew he wouldn't be able to see a few feet, never mind the ground. The plan was to jump as soon as Hyun relayed that the needle focusing on the transponder swung from forward to rear, indicating they'd flown over the beacon.

"One minute," Chong relayed. The one-minute warning was Hyun's best guess, meaning that the needle had started to shiver in its case in the cockpit.

Min grabbed either side of the door with his gloved hands, his eyes on Chong, waiting for the go. The seconds went by slowly, and Min realized he was losing the feeling in his hands, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Chong suddenly stiffened. "Go!" he screamed.

Min pulled forward and threw himself into the turbulent white fog. Behind him, the other eight men followed as fast as they could get out of the aircraft.

Min fell to the end of the eighteen-foot static line, which popped the closing tie on his main parachute. The pack split open and the parachute slid out, struggling to deploy against the wind. He felt the opening jolt and looked up to make sure he had a good canopy.

He couldn't tell what the wind was doing to the chute, nor could he see the ground. With numbed hands, he reached down to find the release for his rucksack so it would drop below him on its lowering line and he wouldn't smash into the ground with it still attached.

Min was still trying to find the quick releases when he did exactly that: his feet hit ice, then his sideways speed, built up by the wind, slammed his head into the ice, the helmet absorbing some of the blow. Min blinked as stars exploded inside his head. Now the lack of feeling in his hands truly started to work against him. He scrabbled at his right shoulder with both hands, trying to find the canopy release; he'd never have been able to grasp and pop the cover under these circumstances, proving his risky decision in the plane was been correct. The wind took hold of his parachute, skiing him across the icy surface, his parka and cold weather pants sliding across the ice and snow, his head rattling as he hit small bumps. Finally his numbed fingers found the cable loop. Min pushed with his gloved right thumb underneath, grabbed his right wrist with his left hand and pulled with all the strength in both arms. The riser released and the canopy flipped over, letting the wind out. Then he lay on his back, trying to gather his wits. He knew he needed to be up and moving but his head was still spinning.

Min had no idea how long he'd been lying there when a figure appeared out of the snow, right wrist held before his face, the receiver there homing in on Min's transmitter. The small face of the receiver blipped with a red light, indicating the direction of the team leader's device. By following the red dot, the team could assemble on Min.

The soldier immediately ran to the apex of Min's parachute and began S-rolling it, gathering the canopy in. Min finally turned over and got to one knee. He popped the chest release for his harness and slipped it off, then pulled his weapon off the top of the reserve and made sure it was still functioning. As Min was stuffing his chute into his rucksack, other figures appeared out of the blowing snow. He could see that two men were hurt: Sergeant Yong apparently had a broken arm that the medic, Corporal Sun, was still working on, and Corporal Lee was limping. Min counted heads. Seven, besides himself. One was missing.

"Where is Song?" he yelled to the others above the roar of the wind. When there was no immediate answer, Min quickly ordered the team on line. "Turn off all receivers!" He pushed a button on his transmitter, and it became a receiver, picking up the different frequency that Song's wrist guidance device had been set to send on.

Min headed in the direction the red dot indicated, his team flanking him on either side. His first priority was accountability of all personnel. He broke into a trot, his men keeping pace, Yong and Lee gritting their teeth to ignore the pain of their injuries. Min was actually satisfied so far that he had eight of his nine men--;he'd expected at least twenty-five percent casualties on the jump. They found Song, his body fortunately jammed up between two blocks of ice, otherwise it might have been blown all the way to the mountains. As two men ran around to collapse the parachute and gather it in, Min knelt down next to his soldier. Song's eyes were unfocused and glassy, and Min unsnapped the man's helmet. As he pulled it off he immediately spotted the caked blood and frozen, exposed brain matter that had oozed through the cracked skull.

Min looked up at Senior Lieutenant Kim. "Have two men pull him with us to the target." Min pulled his mitten off and quickly reset his wrist transmitter/receiver to receive on the transponder frequency. He turned his face into the wind. The target was in that direction.

* * *

"I'm going to check the weather," Brothers announced.

"Don't stay too long," Burke called out from the stove as Brothers zipped his parka up. "The food will be ready in about five minutes."

"Who wants to go with me?" Brothers asked as he headed for the door to check on the weather and, if possible, his plane.

Smithers hopped up from his chair. "I'll join you. I'd like to take a look outside. Feeling a little cooped up in here."

Vaughn glanced around the mess hall at the remaining members of the party. Logan had recovered the instruction manual for the nuclear reactor from the control room and was poring through it. Tai was staring intently at whatever was displayed on the screen of her portable computer. Vaughn was not happy with the current situation. There was little of the base left to explore. Other than the note from Lansale, they had found nothing of much value. If publicized, the nukes and stock of Nazi nerve agent would cause a scandal, but a scandal wasn't exactly a threat. When the weather cleared they would head back and report in to Royce. Maybe he could do more with the information.

* * *

Min froze and peered through the driving snow. There was something large looming directly in front of him. He moved forward ten feet on his hands and knees until he was sure it was the surface shaft, about forty feet ahead. Using hand and arm signals, he sent two men scurrying around each flank to encircle the entrance.

There was a black wedge open on Min's side, and he could make out some movement there. Staying low, he continued forward, slowly closing the distance. His team was poised behind him, awaiting his instructions. He silently worked the bolt on his weapon, making sure it wasn't frozen. After five minutes two figures appeared in the doorway. One walked out a few feet. The other one just stood there peering out, almost directly at Min.

* * *

Brothers shivered under the lash of the cold, but the release from the claustrophobic darkness of the base more than made up for the pain. The shots sounded like muffled pops, and Brothers turned, astounded as Smithers pirouetted into the snow, the bullet tearing through his shoulder. Brothers stared at the blood seeping out from Smithers for a split second.

* * *

Min moved forward at the run, his team dashing behind him. In two seconds he'd closed half the distance to the door before he was spotted. He fired another sustained burst from his AK, and the man dove for the door. The man who had been shot was yelling after his comrade, crawling for the opening. Min slipped on the ice and immediately rolled back to his feet, keeping his eyes on the door. He was twenty feet from the door when it started to swing shut. The wounded man was slithering through, barely missing get caught in it.

Min ran up and pointed at the door. "Lieutenant Kim! Open this!"

* * *

Vaughn met Brothers halfway down the stairs of the shaft. "What the hell happened?" Brothers slumped down and sat on the metal steps, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Smithers was shot!"

"What?" Vaughn said, grabbing him by the arm. He looked up the stairs. "Where is he now?"

"Up there."

A dull echo sounded from above as two shots rang out. Vaughn let go of Brothers and sprinted up the remaining stairs. Smithers lay on the top landing, blood flowing from a wound in his shoulder. The door was shut. Vaughn slid the blade of the broken pick they'd left there through the wheel and jammed it against the side wall. Then he pulled out a bandage from his vest and wrapped it around Smithers's wound.

"Who was shooting?" he asked.

"No fucking idea," Smithers responded. "Brothers damn near left me out there." Vaughn turned as the rest of the party assembled on the stairs around Brothers, yelling confused questions at him. They'd heard the initial rifle fire as if from a great distance in the mess hall and had immediately come to see what was happening.

"Everyone shut up!" Vaughn yelled sharply. He helped Smithers down the stairs. "All right. Tell us what happened."

Smithers took a deep breath. "I caught a glimpse of several people moving out there. Someone was shooting. That's it. I don't know any more."

Vaughn craned his head. There were no more sounds from the door. That worried him.

"Who could have done that?" Tai asked just as the same question flashed through Vaughn's mind.

"Someone either wants us dead, or they want the goddamn bombs, or both." Even as he answered, Vaughn knew what the immediate course of action had to be. "All right. Listen up and do what I say. I don't know who these people are. For all we know they could be Americans, but one thing's for sure: they aren't friendly. They didn't hesitate to shoot.

"Logan, you take Brothers, Burke, and Smithers to the reactor. I want you to wait by the first door. If you hear Tai or me, you open it. If it's anybody else, retreat and shut the second one, securing that one too. You all should be safe in there."

He turned to the Tai. "You come with me."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"What I should have done when we first found the bombs."

"Maybe we can talk to these people," Logan weakly suggested.

Vaughn grabbed him by the shoulders. "They aren't here to ask questions. If they get in and catch us, we'll all be dead. We don't have time to stand here discussing things." He pushed him toward the corridor. "Move!"

The four headed off down the east tunnel. Vaughn sprinted for the armory, with Tai behind. He threw open the door and headed directly for the cases lining the wall as he called over his shoulder, "Grab two M-1s, two pistols and ammo!"

As she did that, he went through the door to the bombs. Vaughn looked in the case at the bombs. He wasn't even sure which access panel opened onto the PAL keypad. There were at least six metal plates secured with numerous Philips head screws that he could see on the top side of the bomb. He didn't have time for that. He needed a more expedient way to neutralize the bombs.

Meanwhile, Tai used a bayonet to open a crate of .30 caliber ammunition. She threw a couple of bandoliers over her shoulder. Then she secured two .45 caliber pistols along with ammunition and magazines.

Vaughn ran back in and grabbed a crate marked C-4 and tore the lid off. He took out several blocks of the plastique, then looked for caps and fuses. He found them on the other side of the room. For good measure, he grabbed a few other goodies.

Tai was struggling with a clip of ammunition and the M-1 she held. Vaughn grabbed the other rifle and a bandolier. "Like this," he said as he slammed a clip home through the top. Tai nodded and did the same. "What are you going to do?"

"We destroy the PAL codes. It's the quickest thing we can do. Come on." He led her to Unit A2. "Keep an eye on the corridor," he ordered as he lay out a couple blocks of C-4

and a fuse in front of him next to the safe. As he was unwinding the detonating cord the sharp crack of an explosion roared through the base. Vaughn slid the block of old C-4 against the safe, primed it, and ran out the det cord as quickly as he could.

He pulled the initiator.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Tai asked.

"Either the fuse or the cord or the C-4 or all of them are too old," Vaughn said. He forgot about the explosives and grabbed his M-1. They'd run out of time.

* * *

Min was the first to leap in through the blasted door. Weapon first, he sidled down the stairs, his men right behind, the muzzles of their weapons searching out every corner.

Stopping short of the first intersection, Min deployed his men in two-man teams. He'd gotten a sketch of the layout of the base in the OPLAN, so he had an idea of where he was and what lay ahead. He signaled for two teams to head down the east tunnel, clearing in that direction; he would take the rest directly to A2 to secure the codes, and then to A1 to get the bombs.

As the first two men stepped forward into the intersection, a burst of fire ripped into them, slamming them to the floor. Min slid the muzzle of his AK-47 around the corner and blindly fired a magazine in that direction as Kim pulled one of the men back undercover. The other lay motionless in the center of the intersection.

"Smoke," Min ordered.

Lee took a grenade off his combat vest, pulled the pin, and threw it in the north tunnel. Bright red smoke immediately billowed out and filled the corridor.

"Go," Min ordered, gesturing.

Two men stepped into the corridor and moved slowly forward, while two more sprinted across the side corridor to loop around and catch whoever had done the firing from the flank.

* * *

Vaughn was sure he had hit two of them as he slammed home another clip into the M-1. All he'd seen were two men bundled up in dark-colored clothes, not enough to make an ID. He and Tai were just to the south of the intersection of the north and west tunnels, using the corner of B2 to protect them. Vaughn gave the smoke enough time to completely fill the corridor and then pulled the trigger on the M-1

as fast as he could, emptying the clip. As he slammed another clip in to reload, the enemy replied with several bursts of automatic fire that ricocheted off the walls.

"They're going to try and flank us," he told Tai. "Let's go." Weapon at the ready, Vaughn moved into the smoke-filled corridor, heading for the door on the north end of B2. He opened it and slid in just as he spotted two figures out of the corner of his eyes. He quietly shut the door behind Tai as the two men passed by, moving toward their old location. Vaughn made his way through the mess hall to the far door. Were the flankers already around, or were they right in front of the door? Fuck it, he thought, swung the door open and stepped out. No one. He opened the door to C2 and hustled Tai through. Then across into the south tunnel. Vaughn moved out into that hallway--;he could hear voices yelling in a foreign tongue back in the direction they had come from. He recognized the language with a quiet chill--;Han Gul, Korean, with a strange accent he had never heard. North Korean, he had to assume.

Vaughn had his finger on the trigger and almost fired as he spotted a figure coming toward them. But it was Smithers, an M-1 in his hand. "Thought you might need some help," he said.

"All right," Vaughn said. He leaned with his back against the outside wall of the library. Tai was looking at him calmly, the M-1 across her lap. Smithers knelt down close to them. Vaughn whispered his plan. "We have to cross and get in the generator room. If these guys have their shit together, they've left someone watching the east tunnel.

"We go together, Tai on the right, me in the center, Smithers on the left. If there's someone there, I'm going to fire. Both of you keep going no matter what. If I don't make it, go to the access tunnel to the left of the control panel. Crawl down it till you come to the first hatch. Logan should be on the other side. Call out and have him open it, then go in and make sure you seal both hatches. Do you understand?" Tai and Smithers nodded.

"Ready? Go!"

Vaughn stepped out, weapon tight against his shoulder, aiming up the tunnel. He fired at the same time the two Koreans at the other end did. Whether it was by sound or feel, he couldn't quite say, he sensed the bullets passing by him.

In the second and a half it took to cross the corridor, Vaughn had emptied his magazine, as had the two men. Miraculously, he was untouched as he slid into the safety of the cover of Unit C3. The scream that tore through the air informed him that Smithers hadn't been as fortunate. Vaughn spun around. The man was lying in the middle of the tunnel, hands grasped to his left leg, blood pouring over it. His M-1 lay on the floor, forgotten.

Even as Vaughn started to move to go out and pull him to safety, a burst of automatic fire walked up the floor, sending chips of wood flying, and then the rounds stitched a pattern across Smithers's midsection, the velocity of the rounds punching him three feet down the south tunnel, where he came to rest, dead.

"Leave him," Tai called out, looking over her shoulder.

Vaughn followed her, hoping the Koreans would move cautiously down the corridor. He slid into the power access tunnel. There was no way he could replace the grate from the inside, so there would be little doubt about which direction he had gone in. They'd have to trust to the strength of the double hatches.

He crawled on his hands and knees right behind Tai, the distance to the first hatch, and waited as she pounded on it. "It's me. Tai."

The wheel slowly turned, then the door opened, Logan's face framed by the hatch. Tai went first, and then Vaughn slid through. "Shut it," he ordered, and slumped against the corrugated steel tubing that made up the wall. "Secure it."

Logan flipped over the latch, locking the handle. "Where's Smithers?"

"Dead," Vaughn said. He looked around the tunnel and pulled off one of the OD green bags he had draped over his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Logan asked.

"If they blew in the top door, they can probably blow this one in too. I want to leave them a surprise that will make them think twice about doing the second one."

Airspace, Antarctica

Captain Hyun craned his neck, looking out the window. They had just cleared the last mountains and broken into intermittent cloud cover, leaving the storm behind. The sea of ice that surrounded Antarctica was spread out below as far as he could see to the north. There was no way he could land on that.

"We must turn back and try to land," he pleaded with the impassive Sergeant Chong. "We are almost out of fuel. We could land at McMurdo and get refueled."

Chong fingered his slung AK-47, took a deep breath, held it, then pulled the trigger. The first round blew the copilot's brains against the right windshield.

"What are you doing?" Hyun screamed, twisting in his seat, his eyes growing wide as the gaping muzzle of the AK-47 turned in his direction. "If you kill me, there will be no one to fly the plane," he desperately reasoned.

Chong's finger increased pressure on the trigger.

"Please!" Hyun begged.

Chong shot him through the chest three times, disgusted with his pleading. The third round knocked the pilot out of his seat. Without hands on the controls, the plane continued to fly forward smoothly. Chong reached over and pushed down on the yoke. The nose of the plane turned downward. When the angle became too steep, the plane plummeted out of control toward the ice-covered water. The nose hit first, and the rest of the plane crumpled and compressed as it punched through the ice into the freezing water below.

In five minutes a disappearing black smear was all that was left to mark the grave of the IL-8.

Antarctica

Min looked at the primed block of old C-4 lying on top of the untouched safe and frowned. Someone in the other party had been smart, but not quick enough.

"Open that safe, but make sure you don't destroy the contents," he instructed Lieutenant Kim. Kim slid his backpack off and pulled out his more modern explosives, molding the plastique with his fingers, shaping the charge to blow the door off.

Sergeant Jae stuck his head in the door. "They are down a tunnel blocked by a steel door, sir." Min nodded. "Blow the door and kill them."

Jae nodded and sprinted away.

Min checked his watch. Chong was most likely dead by now, along with Hyun and his copilot. Nam had been killed when they crossed the intersection. Ho had been wounded, although not severely. Song had also been killed moving forward. Yong and Lee had been injured in the jump. That left three wounded and four healthy men. Not good.

"Clear!" Kim yelled as he finished priming the charge. He unraveled detonating cord as they left the unit.

"Firing!" Kim pulled the igniter, and the soft burp of a controlled explosion echoed out the door. Min walked in and checked the results. The door of the safe was off its hinges, the contents untouched. He pulled out the paper and leafed through it until he found what he needed. Kim gathered his gear. "I will assist Sergeant Jae."

Min nodded his concurrence, engrossed in translating the documents.

* * *

Vaughn stared at the pack full of explosives, wondering if it was worth his time to even try to rig them, given what had happened when he tried to blow the safe.

"What are you doing?" Logan demanded.

"I'm thinking of blowing the tunnel," Vaughn said.

"We'll be trapped then!" Logan exclaimed.

"If I don't do it," Vaughn said, "we'll be dead."

The argument was interrupted by the deep rumble of an explosion, reverberating down the tunnel.

"That's the first door," Vaughn said.

A second, sharper explosion followed by screams could be faintly heard through the thick steel door.

"That's the mine," Vaughn said. "At least it worked. That will make them think twice about taking out this door."

* * *

Min looked at the mangled remains of Sergeant Jae. The corrugated steel tunnel had intensified the effects of the antipersonnel mine. Jae's body had taken most of the impact, but some had gotten by him, and Yong's right arm and leg were saturated with a load of shrapnel. Sun had given Yong a shot of morphine, and his screaming had stopped.

Kim came crawling back through the blood. "I can still blow the second door, sir."

"I know." Min rubbed his chin. He had not expected such a fight. In fact, he had not expected any fight at all. He had been so concerned with simply getting here that he had not war-gamed possible events upon arrival sufficiently. Now was time to cut his losses.

"Leave the door." Min announced.

Kim looked up at his team leader in surprise. "But they are still alive in there. Our orders are to leave no trace."

Min nodded grimly. "I know."

CHAPTER 12

Antarctica

"What the hell is going on?" Logan asked of no one in particular. Vaughn was seated on the floor with his rifle near the tunnel entrance to the reactor. He held a fuse initiator in his hand. Tai was seated next to him, a pistol in her lap. Logan was sitting in one of the chairs in the room next to Burke. Brothers had his back up against the thick glass separating them from the reactor core.

"I'm surprised they haven't blown the second door yet," Vaughn remarked.

"Maybe they just wanted the bombs and have taken them and left?" Logan offered hopefully.

"But how did they know the bombs were down here?" Tai wondered aloud.

"Most likely the same way we did," Vaughn said.

Tai shook her head. "Royce said that the Abu Sayif received a packet from Lansale. You said they spoke Korean. How could the Koreans have found out about this?"

"That all doesn't matter now," Logan cut in. "We need to decide what we're going to do." Do?" Vaughn laughed bitterly. "There's nothing we can do."

"If they're stealing the bombs we need to stop them," Logan said. Vaughn stood and walked over. He thrust the M-1 out. "Here. You take this and go stop them. Of course, they've probably rigged that door on the other side just like I rigged it on this side. But hey, I'm not going to stop you, if that's what you want to do."

Logan didn't take the weapon. "What do you suggest?"

"I suggest we sit tight for now." He pointed at the three bags piled in the corner. "There's food in those. Enough to last us a week or so. We also have sleeping bags. Even if they turn off the power and we lose the heat, we'll be able to survive until they get what they want and leave."

"Why did you put that food and those sleeping bags in here?" Tai asked. She'd noticed them when they'd first entered and had wondered about it.

"Contingency planning," Vaughn replied. "Once you found those bombs, I figured there was a chance we might get some visitors. I was trained to what-if and worst case things. Except I didn't think our visitors would come in shooting. I was thinking more in terms of some spooks from our own government coming down and wanting to take us away to little padded cells." Vaughn pointed up. "There's a hatch in the ceiling that probably opens onto an access tunnel to the surface, but there's nothing up there for us either right now."

"You said they spoke Korean," Tai repeated. "You mean they're from North Korea?" Vaughn's answer surprised her. "I don't know. Both North and South speak Han Gul. I was stationed in the South for a little while, so I recognize it. But it's possible that those might be South Korean troops out there for all I know. There's a lot of people in the world who'd like to get their hands on a U.S. made nuclear weapon and the Golden Lily and not be too concerned about who they have to kill to do it."

"But they'll never get away with it!" Burke said. "I mean, how can they cover this up?" Vaughn shrugged. "I don't know. I don't even know how they got here. They couldn't have landed a plane in that weather. Maybe they jumped, but if they did in those winds, they're better men than I. I also don't know how they plan on getting away. But I can tell you one thing. I'm sure whoever is in charge of them has thought of answers to those questions or they wouldn't be out there."

"Do you think they'll steal my plane?" Brothers asked.

Vaughn shook his head. "I doubt it. The weather is still crappy up there. We couldn't use it either if we got out. I think they might try to walk out. For all I know they came here on some sort of over-snow vehicle and are going to use that to leave.

"Whether it's North or South Koreans out there, one thing's for certain. They're hard soldiers, and they're used to operating in cold weather. They've already taken several casualties, mainly because I don't think they expected any opposition. From here on out they'll be ready for us if we make a move. So I say we sit tight."

Tai was at a loss for words. She felt like they ought to be doing something, but Vaughn's cold logic made sense.

"So you say we just let them walk away with nuclear weapons?" Logan demanded. Vaughn shrugged. "You're free to go and stop them." He looked over and his eyes met Tai's. "We didn't put those bombs down here, so they're really not our problem, are they? Actually, if you get down to it, this is the Organization's problem. They put the bombs and this base here. So maybe this will turn out all for the best."

Vaughn's words were met with silence.

* * *

The MK/B 61 nuclear bomb weighs 772 pounds. Using the same small tractor that Tai had used to clear out the armory, Min's men pulled the first bomb along the hallway to the east ice storage tunnel. There, they placed it on a large sled and secured it with ropes.

Corporal Sun had started the large bulldozer and was up on the steel grating ramp, cutting away at the ice with the blade, aiming for the surface. As soon as he cut through they would take the large SUSV

tractor and head out. The SUSV consisted of a large engine section on treads that could seat three men up front, and a second section on tracks that was pulled along and could fit ten men and all their supplies. Min watched Sun's efforts for a few minutes and then went back to the armory.

South Pacific

"Captain James Cook was the first to sail around Antarctica, from 1773 to 1775, yet he never once spotted land, the ice pack keeping him well out of landfall."

Fatima sipped a cup of coffee as she listened to the captain. She and Araki were on the bridge of the freighter, the heaters going full-blast, fighting against the Antarctic wind that blasted against the glass that separated them from the world outside.

"The first party ever to land on Antarctic land and spend the winter did not succeed until well over a century later, in 1895. And in the slightly more than a century since, men in ships have been able to accomplish little more in these vicious seas."

"Your point?" Fatima asked.

The captain glanced at her, and then returned his focus to the sea ahead. He had a copy of the OPLAN

in his hands and had just finished reading it. "These idiots in Pyongyang want us to pick people up off the coast of Antarctica." He laughed. "As if by a simple command such a thing could happen. Let's see what you have to say when we hit the ice pack in the morning. Whoever it was that wanted to get picked up will have to come to us--;not the other way around."

"All right," Fatima said. "Once we make contact with them, I will inform them of this." The captain twisted his head and peered into the distance as the lookout phoned in another iceberg off the port bow. "It's going to get worse," he lamented.

"It always does," Fatima agreed.

Antarctica

The way to the surface was clear, and Sergeant Sun had managed to drive the SUSV up the uneven ramp to the surface, where it sat rumbling on the ice cap, the sled hitched behind it. Major Min walked back down the ramp and across the base to the armory, where Sergeant Yong was propped up, back against the wall, his weapon on his knees. His wounded arm and leg were swathed in bandages. The bodies of Jae, Song, and Nam were laid out in the hallway under ponchos. Min was uncertain what words would be correct to say good-bye to his soldier, so he simply stood in front of his man and saluted. Yong looked up and returned the gesture with his nonwounded arm. Before he had second thoughts, Min turned and swiftly walked back to the east ice storage room. He climbed up the ramp and crunched across the ice to the cab of the SUSV. He got into the cab and nodded at Sun. The medic threw the vehicle in gear, and the treads slowly started turning. At a crawl of ten miles an hour they headed away from the base. Min directed the driver to their one last stop before heading for the mountains lining the coast. The sled bobbed along in their wake, its cargo securely tied down.

Geneva

Dyson's body was strapped to the chair in the middle of the Intelligence Center. His dead eyes stared straight ahead. The man who had been "working" on him packed up his equipment and left the center. Then the High Counsel spoke to the Assessors. "I want a Course of Action Projection based on what we just learned about Majestic-12."

"With what parameters?" the Senior Assessor asked.

"I want to know what the possible outcomes will be if we exterminate Majestic-12."

Pine Barrens, New Jersey

The two men walked down the corridor, the squeak of their shoes echoing off the cinder-block walls. They went into a small room with a secure satellite link to Geneva. "I got everything out of Whitaker," the Tall Man said into the mike. "He put the bomb on the airplane carrying the engineers."

"Why?" the Senior Assessor asked.

"To keep the location secret and for $500,000. He also helped wiped out the convoy that accompanied the four MK-17 bombs down there."

"That was years later, so Lansale kept him on retainer. What about the submarines?"

"He didn't know about those."

"Terminate him."

Pentagon

As questions bombarded him, the head of the Intelligence Service Agency didn't like the role reversal. The hastily assembled officers and senior administration officials wanted answers, and he, unfortunately, didn't have many. Being the bearer of bad news had a historically poor rating. The ranking officer in the room, Army Chief of Staff General Morris, listened to the confusion for five minutes before he cut to the heart of the matter. "Gentlemen, we have to accept the fact that there are bombs down there and there is nothing we can presently do to make that knowledge disappear. Given that, there are two courses of action we have to pursue.

"Our primary concern must be to secure the bombs. I say that is primary because of the potential physical threat they represent. Our secondary concern is to find out where these bombs came from and how they ended up at this base. Attached to that second concern is to find out why and how this Citadel was built."

Morris looked about the room to make sure everyone, particularly the President's National Security Advisor, was following him. With the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs in the Middle East, this problem was his problem. "In line with the first, I am going to have certain military forces alerted and deployed to the Antarctic to secure the weapons and remove them."

"Won't that violate the Antarctic accord?" an Air Force general asked. Morris bit off a sarcastic reply. "The accord has already been violated. It is now time for damage control, and we have to get those bombs out of there.

"To help solve the second problem, the various intelligence organizations have all been notified and are investigating the situation." He swung his gaze to the ISA director. "I want your sources to find out everything they have on this. I also want everything you've received from the personnel you've already detained in connection with this incident." Morris fixed a full colonel at the end of the table with his gaze.

"What do we have that can get there ASAP to secure those weapons?" The colonel looked at the large map at the end of the room. "To be honest, not much, sir. I think the closest ground forces would come from either Panama or Hawaii. Elements of the 7th Fleet are operating off of Australia. The big problem is that we have no way to deploy forces by air there without an in-flight refuel. That's the most isolated place in the world--;you have a minimum of a two-thousand-mile flight from the nearest land." "I don't want problems. I want results."

"Yes, sir."

Antarctica

Kim laid the satchel charge in the middle aisle of the Earth First plane. They'd just found it, parked four hundred meters away from the base, and Major Min had directed him to destroy it. He estimated that thirty pounds of explosive would more than do the job. Kim pulled the fuse igniter and hopped out the door. He ran back to the SUSV and clambered into the cab, next to Min. The driver immediately threw it into gear, and they headed away.

Three minutes later the dull crack of the explosion sounded through the blowing snow, but the flash was lost in the white fog. Thirty miles directly ahead lay the coast.

* * *

"I wonder why they haven't cut off the power?" Brothers asked.

"Maybe they don't care if we're hiding in here," Vaughn suggested.

"Maybe they've already left;" Logan added. "Surely they wouldn't want to hang around any longer than they have to."

The five of them were sitting in a semicircle, facing the hatch. There had been no noise for quite a while. Tai had to admit to herself that she was surprised the power was still on and that the North Koreans hadn't tried to finish them off. The more she thought about it, the more it didn't make much sense. She nudged Vaughn. "What do you think?"

He considered his reply for a few seconds. They were all deferring to him since he was the only one who'd had some sort of plan, which was why they were alive now. "This whole thing doesn't make sense. Skipping the issue of why the Koreans--;be they South or North--;would want two nuclear bombs, we're left with the question of how they think they can get away with this.

"Even if they had wiped us all out here and tried to make it look like an accident--;say a fire destroying the base and all the bodies--;they've got to know that someone else knows about the bombs. The U.S. would then send a team down here to search for the bombs, and when they didn't find them, the heat would be on."

"Maybe they were hoping there would be enough of a time delay before that was discovered, that they could get away," Tai offered.

"True," Vaughn agreed. "But then they would have had to kill all of us." He shook his head, which was beginning to throb with a splitting headache. "They've got a long trip back to Korea with those things, and then what are they going to do with them once they get there?"

"Whatever happens," Logan said, "the United States government is going to look pretty stupid. How could they have put nuclear weapons down here and then just forgotten about them?" Vaughn had spent quite a bit of time thinking about that. "There's a lot of ways that could have happened. You all probably don't realize the shear number of atomic weapons the U.S. has. If I remember rightly, there were over three thousand of these MK/B 61s built. And that's just one of several types of weapon in the inventory. There's easily over ten thousand weapons in various places all over the world, and that's just the U.S.'s. Add in the former Soviet Union's and it's a wonder no one has had some stolen or turn up in the wrong hands before this."

"Well, let's pray that these two never get used," Tai said.

"Amen to that," Brothers added.

Logan abruptly stood up. "I can't sit here any longer and just allow this to happen."

"What are you going to do?" Vaughn asked.

"You're probably right," Logan said to Vaughn, "the access tunnel is most likely booby-trapped." He pointed to the ceiling. "I say we go up to the surface and come back down the main shaft. They won't expect us coming that way--;that's if they're still here. Or we go for the plane." Brothers, Tai, and Burke all turned to Vaughn, for his opinion. "Well, we're going to have to get out of here sooner or later," he said, "but I would prefer to wait for later and let someone come to us. If we get out and the weather still isn't good enough to take off, then we're stuck out on the surface. Plus, I think the Koreans have probably destroyed the plane. I would if I was them."

"Someone won't come here looking for us for several days at least," Logan countered.

"I still think we ought to wait," Vaughn quietly replied. "You don't have a plan beyond getting to the surface."

"Let's at least see if the shaft is blocked," Tai offered.

Vaughn couldn't find any way to refuse that request. "All right." He grabbed one of the chairs and slid it underneath the trapdoor in the ceiling. The door was held in place by two latches. The first one came free easily enough, but the second was more stubborn, resisting his efforts for a few minutes. Brothers took his place and tried. After three attempts the latch slid free and the door swung down, sending Brothers sprawling on the floor.

"You all right?" Vaughn asked.

"Aye, mate."

Vaughn stepped up and shined his flashlight into the shaft. It was clear for five feet, then another hatch blocked the way. "They sure believed in putting a lot of doors in this place," he remarked. Logan explained that. "That's to keep the radiation in once they powered the plant up. It's the same reason this place is set a quarter mile from the main base and the tunnel has those turns in it. They shielded the reactor not only with these walls but also with all the ice in between here and the main base. They probably planned on using this room only for occasional maintenance checks." Vaughn grabbed the inside lip of the first door with his gloved fingers and lifted himself up. There were rungs in the wall, and he could stand on the six inches of frame that extended all the way around the first door. The second door was similar to the first, and he went to work on the latches. Both moved relatively easily, and he knelt down to let the door swing open over his head. Shining the light up, he wasn't surprised to see the shaft blocked by ice, about ten feet above his head. He carefully dropped back down into the reactor room.

"It's filled with ice. I'm not sure how much of it is blocked." He looked at Logan. "How far below the surface do you think we are?"

Logan shrugged. "Hard to say. If we're on line with the main compound, then I'd say about thirty feet under. But I got the sense going through the access tunnel that it sloped down a little bit, which makes sense, as they would want to have enough ice on top to help shield it. I'd say we might be as deep as fifty or sixty feet below the surface."

Vaughn didn't fancy the idea of digging through thirty feet of ice if the entire shaft was blocked. On the other hand, the plug might only be a few feet thick. "I'll take the first shift digging." He looked around. "I'll knock the ice down, and you all pile it up in that corner."

He took the entrenching tool from his ruck and tucked it inside his parka. He also unsnapped a twelve-foot length of nylon rope attached to the outside of his ruck. He wrapped the rope about his waist and through his legs, making an expedient climbing harness, tied two loops in the ends and connected them with the snap link that had held the rope to his ruck. Then he clambered back up into the shaft and used the rungs to climb up.

Reaching the ice, Vaughn clicked the snap link on a rung and sat back in the harness. He reached inside his parka, pulled out the e-tool and unfolded it. Carefully pulling his hood over his head, he used the point of the shovel to break chunks of ice free, letting them fall down the shaft to the floor. He worked mostly by feel, as the reflected light from the room below barely lit the shaft. It was the sort of mindless work that Vaughn enjoyed doing. It took his mind off the sight of Smithers lying in the corridor, bullets slamming into his body. He hadn't allowed himself to think about the fact that he had killed again today, and he knew now wasn't the time. There would be plenty of time for thinking after they got out of here.

Howard Air Force Base, Panama

Major Frank Bellamy watched the confusion in his men's faces as they were handed the cold-weather clothing that the battalion sergeant major had scrounged out of the central issue facility. The fact that the facility even had cold-weather gear was a little surprising, but they were Special Forces, after all--;ready to go anywhere in the world at a moment's notice. Just because they were stationed in Panama didn't mean they wouldn't be sent to someplace less temperate.

Bellamy grabbed the red webbing that served as seats on the side of the MC-130 Combat Talon as the plane suddenly stopped on the runway and then slowly turned, the roar of the engines easily penetrating the metal skin.

The loadmaster was yelling at Bellamy to get his men seated for takeoff. Bellamy ignored him--;the Air Force always acted like they were the most important thing in the world and the other services were just training aids to support them. What difference would it make if his men were seated on the web seats or standing in the middle of the plane if it crashed on takeoff? They'd be dead either way. Bellamy was the company commander for C Company, 3rd Battalion, 7th Special Forces Group (Airborne) stationed in Panama. He'd received the alert direct from Special Operations Command forty minutes ago, and in that time had gathered together the two of his teams that weren't out training and gotten them and their gear loaded onto this aircraft. The twenty-six men were now crowded in the rear of the aircraft, trying to sort through the rapidly loaded equipment. Halfway up the cargo bay, a large black curtain blocked the view forward. Bellamy knew that behind that curtain were banks of electronic equipment manned by Air Force personnel. With a slight bump, the brakes were released and the plane rumbled down the runway.

His XO, Captain Manchester, sat next to him and yelled into his ear, "Where are we going?"

"Antarctica!" Bellamy shouted back.

Manchester took that news in stride. "What for?"

"Fuck if I know," Bellamy replied. "All the alert said was to get our butt in gear. I'm supposed to get filled in once we're airborne and SOCOM gets its shit together and calls." Manchester nodded and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. No sense worrying about what they didn't know. Bellamy had the same attitude. He bunched up a poncho liner behind his head and was asleep less than ten minutes after takeoff.

8th Army Headquarters, Yongsan, South Korea