The U.S. 8th Army Commander, General Patterson, steepled his fingers and contemplated his staff G-2. The G-2 was the officer responsible for intelligence, and it was at his request that the other primary staff members of Patterson's headquarters were gathered here at almost eleven at night in the situation room. The G-2 had just spent twenty minutes going over his recent intelligence data and had finished only a minute ago. The rest of the room was waiting on Patterson's reaction.

"Okay. Let me see if I have this straight. All these indicators that you've just briefed add up to level four activity across the border. Am I correct?"

Contrary to what many nonmilitary people thought, it was impossible to launch a large-scale military campaign without certain preparations. These preparations were the keys that the intelligence agencies of all the armed forces in the world watched for in their potential enemies. Noting some of those activities across the border in North Korea had led the G-2 to become concerned and call this meeting.

"Yes, sir."

"How many times have you seen this?" Patterson asked.

"We saw it during Team Spirit back in March. The North went up to level two then, but that was expected, as they do it every year during that exercise. We haven't seen an unexpected four like this in the past eight months that I've been here. This level four activity could just be part of movements among the various factions that want to take over next.

"However, I must point out that the activity seems to be southern directed." The G-2 gestured at the map on the wall behind him. "The satellite imagery definitely shows the V and II PKA Corps moving to forward assault positions along the border."

"They may be doing this just to get us to deploy our forward elements into their battle positions so they can ID them," the operations officer, G-3, said. "They can pull those units back just as quickly as they move them forward."

"Our sensing equipment is also picking up some tunneling activity in the DMZ," the G-2 pointed out. "We haven't pinpointed it yet, but it's the most extensive we've heard in a long time." Over the years, three tunnels had been discovered and neutralized coming from the North under the DMZ. It was estimated that there were at least eighteen more tunnels in place that had yet to be found. Each of these tunnels was large enough to pass an estimated 8,000 troops an hour through. Patterson frowned. Level four was the first stage of intelligence alert to possible invasion from the North. By itself, it required no action on his part other than to inform subordinate commanders. Level three--;if it came to that--;required the restriction of all personnel to base and a one-hour alert status for every unit. Level two required forward movement to defensive positions and the initiation of movement of reinforcements from U.S. bases outside of the Korean peninsula--;the real version of the Team Spirit exercise that was conducted every year. Level one meant war was possible with less than a ten-minute warning.

All that was fine and well, but they were alerts that had been designed before the invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan. Patterson had been trying to coordinate with the Pentagon to update the alert system based on the reality that many of the reinforcements traditionally earmarked for South Korea in time of war were already at war in Iraq. And even a brigade of his own forces from the 2d Infantry Division had deployed just four months ago from South Korea to Iraq.

"How far out are they from reaching level one?" Patterson asked. The G-2 bit his lower lip. "I'd say minimum of seventy-two hours, sir, if they're committed to it. More likely a week. If we get any of several intelligence nodes passed in the next eight to twelve hours we will be at level three."

Patterson nodded. "All right. Inform me immediately if I have to go to level three alert. I want all major subordinate commanders alerted about the level four. That includes all reinforcing units. I'm going to personally call the commanding general of the 25th in Hawaii and update him. I'll also call the war room in the Pentagon." He turned to his Air Force and naval commanders. "Please notify your respective personnel to go to level four alert."

"Yes, sir."

Antarctica

Tai had watched the steady stream of ice splatter down the chute for the past fifteen minutes. Now Vaughn's feet appeared as he hopped down. "Who's next?" he asked as he shook ice flakes off his parka.

Logan zipped up his jacket. "I'll go."

Brothers stood. "No. I'll go. I need the exercise to warm up. You take the next shift." As Vaughn took the rope off his own waist and wrapped it around the pilot, he filled in the rest of the group on his progress. "I made about four or five feet in. Most of the metal tubing is still good. It almost looks like the ice either came in from the top or we haven't reached the break in the wall yet. Let's hope the ice didn't crush the metal together."

Brothers cinched the rope around his waist. "All set."

Vaughn pointed. "I hung the shovel on the top rung."

"Okay." With a weary smile, Brothers reached up and pulled himself into the tube. The temperature in the reactor room had dropped considerably due to the open hatch and the slowly melting pile of ice in the far corner. Tai had gone through the supplies Vaughn had piled in the room and put together a cold meal of crackers and canned fruit cocktail. She handed a can to Vaughn as he sat down on his ruck.

"Thanks." Vaughn smiled and held up a can of fruit. "C-rations. I haven't seen these in a long time." Tai glanced over at Logan. He looked worn and scared. His sudden desire for action bothered her. They ate in silence, interrupted only by the sprinkle of ice from the hatch as Brothers continued to dig away. She was surprised when Vaughn slid over until their legs were touching. "This was a cluster-fuck of a mission," he said.

Tai nodded. "Royce is shooting in the dark, hoping to hit something."

"And we're the bullets," Vaughn said.

"And we have little idea what the target is," Tai noted. "I'm starting to think you might be--;" She never finished analyzing those feelings as her world went upside down. It was as if a large hand grasped the reactor room and lifted it, tumbling everyone to the floor. The lights went out and a tremendous roar, sounding like thousands of locomotives roaring by, shook her ears. Her last thought as she was thrown across the room was regret that she and Vaughn hadn't talked sooner.

CHAPTER 13

Antarctica

The fact that the epicenter of the blast was underground muffled the kinetic effect of the explosion but utterly disintegrated the Citadel, producing a puckered crater in the ice over a quarter mile wide. The fireball lashed across the surface, the heat finding nothing to sink its teeth into but searing the surface for over two kilometers in every direction. The immediate refreezing of the briefly melted ice produced a landscape that resembled sheets of glistening glass.

The immediate radiation was absorbed by the ice in a relatively short distance. The delayed radiation in the form of Strontium 90, Cesium 137, Iodine 131, and Carbon 14, was grabbed by the howling winds, and as the elements rose in the atmosphere, the radiation began spreading over a large area.

* * *

The flash and thermal energy washed by the convoy, bathing the snowy plain in dulled white light--;the swirling snow having lessened the effect--;the heat at a bearable level here over fifteen miles away from the epicenter of the blast. Min had turned the vehicle so the rear pointed directly back toward the base, five minutes prior to the hour, but still the shock wave split through the storm and slammed into the back of the SUSV with gale force. The vehicle actually lifted a foot off its rear tracks before rocking back down and continuing on its way.

McMurdo Station, Antarctica

Over five hundred miles to the west of the Citadel, needles on seismographs flickered briefly and then were still. Scientists scratched their heads, perplexed at the cause for the burp in their machines. Dutifully they recorded the data and forwarded it back to the United States. Over the next twenty minutes other Antarctic stations forwarded the same data as their machines registered it. The two favorite theories bandied about at the various U.S. stations were either an earthquake or a massive split of ice off the ice shelf falling into the ocean. They were both wrong.

Russkaya Station, Antarctica

The senior scientist at the Russkaya Station looked at the various reports on the seismic disturbance and combined that with the severe electromagnetic pulse that had washed over his station ten minutes ago. The former might be explained by an earthquake or ice breaking--;the latter by a severe sunspot. Together they added up to only one answer--;a nuclear explosion. But how? Why? And most important of all, who?

Ah well, the scientist shrugged. That was for people much more important than him to worry about. He wrote up a report and had his radioman send it over the one transmitter that had survived the EMP

pulse--;an old tube radio that had been here since the base opened. All the modern solid-state circuitry radios had been fused by the EMP.

Vicinity of the Citadel, Antarctica

Tai checked her body, starting from head to foot, making sure all the parts were still functioning. Everything seemed all right. She sat up and turned her head from side to side, listening. Someone was moving nearby.

The total dark was the worst. Eyes wide open, she could see nothing. Then a small light flared out next to her and, in the glow, she saw Vaughn holding his flashlight.

"You okay?"

Tai nodded. "I think so."

Vaughn swiftly ran the light around the room. Logan appeared to be unconscious, with several boxes of supplies piled on top of him. Burke was groggily moving, hands on his head. Vaughn ignored both of them as he jumped to his feet. He shined his light up into the shaft. A pair of feet disappearing into ice were all that he could see twenty feet above. He turned to Tai. "Hold the light for me. Brothers's buried." He rapidly climbed up.

Reaching the feet, Vaughn hooked one arm through a rung and squeezed one of the feet with his free hand, just to let Brothers know help was here. He hooked his fingers and tore at the ice, pulling away chunks. The cold helped to numb the pain as he tore fingernails loose. Vaughn worked by feel, the glow from the light in Tai's hand doing little good this far up.

"Is he all right?"

Vaughn kept working. He had yet to get any sort of reaction from Brothers. "I need help. Get up here." Tai climbed up to just below him.

"When I get him free I need your help to lower him down. He's unconscious." He shoved his arm up along Brothers's chest and pulled hard. A large chunk of ice broke free, bounced off Vaughn and tumbled below. He felt Brothers's body shift and quickly grabbed the rope that was still hooked to a rung, easing the body down.

"Get him!" he yelled as he tried to unhook the snap link with numbed fingers. Tai had one arm wrapped around Brothers's body, but Vaughn couldn't unsnap the anchor. "Fuck it," he muttered and pulled out his knife. The razor sharp blade parted the rope with one swipe.

Vaughn dropped the knife and reached down to help Tai lower Brothers. Together they got the body down to the reactor floor. Vaughn jumped down out of the shaft as Tai pointed the flashlight at the man's face. The eyes were closed. Vaughn used his good hand to feel Brothers's neck as he leaned over and placed his cheek next to his mouth to see if he could pick up any breath. No breath, no pulse. Vaughn tilted Brothers's head back and quickly blew three quick breaths in. He linked his fingers together and pressed down through the bulky clothes on the chest. Within ten seconds he was into the CPR rhythm.

He didn't know how long he'd been at it when Tai slid in on the other side and relieved him. Vaughn sank back on his haunches, his arms and shoulders burning with exhaustion. The pain from his hand was now a deep throbbing.

Vaughn gave Tai an estimated five minutes, then he took over again. Still no movement or sign of life. He shut down his mind and concentrated on the routine.

"He's dead." Tai's voice barely penetrated Vaughn's mind. He kept on. Finally he felt Tai's arms wrapping around him from behind. "He's dead, Vaughn. You can't bring him back. He was up there too long without air." Vaughn allowed the arms to pull him back away from the body.

"How're Logan and Burke?" Vaughn asked as he finally accepted the reality of Brothers's death. Tai took the light across the room. "How are you?" she quietly asked. Logan lifted up a haggard face. "What happened? Earthquake?"

"I don't know." She looked at Burke, whose eyes were now open. "Are you okay?"

"I think so."

Tai turned back to Vaughn and echoed Logan's question. "What happened?" Vaughn wanted to laugh, but the feeling died just as quickly as it came. They were past that now--;way past that. "One of the bombs went off."

Tai's eyes opened wide. "How could we have survived?"

Vaughn answered succinctly. "A quarter mile of ice between us and the blast center. The low yield, ten kilotons. An underground burst, which helped contain much of the energy. Being in this reactor, which was built to contain radiation and heavily shielded. And a lot of luck."

"Why did they set the bomb off?" Logan asked.

"To leave no trace," Vaughn replied. "There's nothing left of the Citadel now except this place. They have the other bomb free and clear and no one will ever know."

"There's us," Tai countered.

Vaughn conceded that point. "They probably underestimated the protection the reactor gave us. As far as the Koreans are concerned, we're history." Vaughn thought about what he had just said. "We may well be history too, if we don't get up to the surface." He looked around in the dim glow cast by the mag light. "We can talk about it when we get out. If we stay here, we die."

Pentagon

General Morris looked up as General Hodges rapidly entered the situation room. He didn't like the look on his subordinate's face.

Hodges wasted no time getting to the point. "Sir, several research facilities in Antarctica have picked up a seismic disturbance. We've analyzed the reports." Hodges swallowed. "Sir, based on the triangulation and the size of the shock wave, we believe there has been an approximately ten-kiloton nuclear explosion at the location we have been given for this Citadel."

"What about imagery?" Morris asked.

"We've taken some satellite shots, but nothing can be made out through the cloud cover. That large storm front still covers most of Antarctica."

"What's the status on our unit heading down there?"

"We've alerted a Special Forces unit in Panama. They're heading down there on board a Combat Talon. Estimated time of arrival is 0500 zulu tomorrow."

Morris turned to the situation room's operations officer. "What fleet assets do we have that might be in that area?"

The officer looked up at the large world map that encompassed the entire far wall. "Nothing in the immediate area. The 7th Fleet has a carrier group near Australia."

"Order them to head south as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir."

Morris turned back to Hodges. "What will the fallout be?"

"Should be minimal, sir. The winds will sweep it out into the South Pacific. As I said, it was a very low yield."

That didn't make Morris feel that much better. "What about the Russians? Have they picked it up?" Hodges sighed. "They must have, sir. They have a research station less than three hundred miles from the Citadel location. General Kolstov has been notified."

Morris took a moment to collect his thoughts. "All right. I have to contact the President."

South Pacific

Fatima woke Araki. "We intercepted a report out of McMurdo Station. Seismic detectors have picked up a disturbance in the vicinity of the Citadel. They're not sure what has happened, although they suspect an earthquake."

Araki blinked the sleep out of her eyes. "An earthquake?"

Fatima stared at her. "An earthquake would be rather convenient, don't you think?"

"What else--;" Araki blanched. "Nuclear blast?" Fatima shrugged. "Perhaps. Which would mean either the North Koreans did it or someone else got down there."

"But why would someone detonate a nuclear weapon?" Araki asked.

"Destroying evidence by using the evidence," Fatima said.

"How far out are we from the rendezvous?" Araki asked.

"Just over twenty-four hours."

Antarctica

Vaughn felt at home in the dark. Gravity told him which way was up, and that was all he needed. He'd found the shovel still lodged in the ice where Brothers had been digging and he continued the work. It almost seemed as if the explosion had loosened the ice, as it broke free easier now. Vaughn estimated he had made almost fifteen feet so far. The surface couldn't be far ahead. Thirty feet below, the mag light made the tiniest glow as Logan, Burke, and Tai cleared away the ice he let fall. Vaughn shoved the steel tip of the shovel upward and a large block broke free. Vaughn swung up again, and sparks flew as steel hit steel.

"I need the light," he yelled. A small pinprick of brightness appeared below and grew stronger as Tai climbed up to join him. Vaughn reached down, took the light out of her hands and examined the ceiling. It was apparent now why the shaft had filled with ice. The hatch was breached, half open. Vaughn played the light around. Both hinges on the far side of the hatch had succumbed to time and pressure and popped. The problem was, the opening was on the far side of the shaft, and Vaughn had no idea how much ice was on top of the hatch. He handed the light back to Tai.

He unhooked himself from the rung and, after warning Tai, stepped down one rung and then pushed his feet against the near wall and allowed himself to fall across the three-foot-wide tube. He was braced now, in the classic chimney climb position. Inch by inch, Vaughn edged himself up until the edge of the hatch was at eye level. Cautiously, he kept his balance with one hand while he used the other to probe through the foot and a half opening into the ice. Small pieces fell out, bounced off his stomach and tumbled below.

"I'm going back down," Tai called out as she beat a hasty retreat. After five minutes Vaughn was in a position where he could brace his feet on the hatch itself. It took him a few more minutes to realize that he could dimly see. There was light from above, penetrating the ice.

Tasman Sea

The Kitty Hawk is not only the oldest aircraft carrier still on active duty with the U.S. Navy, it is the oldest warship still active. Built in the early sixties, it had been extensively refitted in 1991 and then assigned to the 7th Fleet operating out of Pearl Harbor. It was presently steaming east in the center of Battle Group 72, a collection of the Kitty Hawk, two Aegis cruisers, two destroyers, four frigates, two resupply ships, and two submarines hidden underneath the waves.

They'd just completed a joint training exercise with the Australian navy, and Admiral Klieg, the battle group commander, was taking this opportunity to correct several of the deficiencies he'd detected in some of his ships during the exercise.

This early in the morning, he was on the bridge of the Kitty Hawk, watching as his ships reacted to a practice alert, when his staff operations officer brought him a classified message for his eyes only. Klieg examined the message under the red glow of the battle station's lights. He took a minute to think and then addressed the waiting operations officer. "Call off the present training exercise. All ships, battle cruising formation. Flank speed."

"Heading, sir?"

"Due south."

Ford Mountain Range, Antarctica

The SUSV was two and half hours out from the Citadel and had traversed twenty-two miles in that time. Since the explosion forty-five minutes ago, the cab had been silent, each man lost in his own thoughts and worries. It was Kim who broke the silence.

"Sir, you said I would know the plan when I needed to. Could you tell me when that will be? We have already lost half our party. If we lose you, I will not know what course of action to take. Nor will I know what to do with that." Kim nodded over his shoulder at the sled bobbing along in their icy wake. Min's real reason for not informing Kim about all of the plan's details was that he hadn't believed the plan would work, and he knew his XO would have thought the same thing. In fact, Min still didn't believe they would be able to accomplish the entire mission despite the fact that they had been successful so far, albeit with the loss of five men--;seven, if he included Captain Hyun and his copilot. But now Min realized he had to brief Kim. They were committed, and there was definitely no turning back. And for the first time, he felt they had a chance to succeed.

"We are on our way to a rendezvous with a freighter that will pick us up off the coast. We will determine the exact location of pickup when we reach the shore and can establish radio contact with the vessel. The frequency to make contact is 62.32. Our call sign is Tiger; theirs is Wolf.

"We will load aboard the ship and immediately head for our target. It is estimated that it will take us another couple of days of sailing to make it to the target."

"Which is?" Kim pressed.

"Pearl Harbor."

Kim blinked. "The 7th Fleet!"

Min gave a weary smile. "We are not to destroy the target. At least not at first. The plan is that the mere threat that we are in position to do so will allow our government to blackmail the United States government to do--;or perhaps rather I should say, not do--;two things. One is not to deploy their reinforcing units to South Korea in the face of higher levels of readiness. The second is not to use nuclear weapons once the border has been breached."

Kim thought about it. "Do you believe the United States would accede to such blackmail?" Min shrugged. "The United States stood still when a handful of their citizens were taken hostage. The threat of tens of thousands of their people killed in a nuclear explosion might make them change their mind and question the worth of their allegiance to the South. Even if it doesn't, destroying their facilities at Pearl Harbor, now that Subic Bay is closed, will greatly reduce their ability to project forces into the Pacific."

"But how are we supposed to smuggle this bomb into Hawaii? How are we supposed to hide? Especially once the threat is made?"

Min shrugged. "According to the operations plan, that is up to our initiative. If we can get close enough to the Hawaiian Islands, we can make it.

"We do have the advantage that the Americans do not know we have the bomb. They will think the explosion was an accident. They will not be looking for us until we are already in position. That is to our advantage."

"How will they believe we have the one bomb, then?"

"Once we are in position, our government will give them the PAL code that arms the bomb, along with its serial number. They will believe that."

Kim leaned back on the rocking bench they were seated on and regarded his commander. "They are going to invade the South?"

Min nodded. "I would assume they are already mobilizing to do so."

"Do they really think we can succeed?"

"We have so far," Min answered evenly.

Kim shook his head. "But it is a long way from here to Hawaii. And then--;"

"I know," Min said, cutting his XO off. "I know all that. But it is too late to question anything. We must do as ordered."

Vicinity of the Citadel, Antarctica

"What about radiation?" Tai asked. The crater that had been the Citadel lay two hundred feet away. The edges of the crater were jagged, and Vaughn had no desire to get any closer. Not only was the Citadel gone, but also all the bodies and evidence of the base. Along with the portion of the Golden Lily that had been secreted there. And the nerve agent and other weapons of mass destruction. Vaughn was tightening down the straps on his rucksack. "We escaped the initial radiation because of the shielding of the reactor room. Residual is already up in the atmosphere and will follow the winds. We're all right."

Finished with his pack, Vaughn checked the others, making sure they were ready to go. Go where? was the key question, Vaughn realized. He'd been so happy to make it out of that dark hole that he'd thought of little else. Now, with the wind lashing his face and the cold latching onto his bones, he tried to figure out a course of action. "Let's see if the plane might have escaped the blast." He pointed at the white fog on the other side of the crater. "We'll walk around."

"But none of us can fly," Logan protested.

"I'm not thinking of flying," Vaughn replied. "I want to see if the radio is still intact. It's most likely the EMP has destroyed its circuits, but it's worth taking a look." He looked at the three of them. "Are you ready?"

They set out. It took fifteen minutes to circumnavigate the crater with a good two hundred meters of safety margin. Vaughn was surprised at how easy it was to walk on the ice. A thin layer of blown snow covered the ice cap, and he felt like he was just sliding along, the brittle snow barely covering the toes of his boots. The problem was the wind and the snow that blew with it. He had to keep his head bowed and the hood of the parka pulled in close. He was walking like that when he spotted where the plane had been parked.

"Shit," he muttered. "Sons of bitches. They blew the goddamn plane. Either that or the bomb blast did this. Either way it doesn't matter."

He lifted the edge of the plane's hood. There was little to indicate that a plane had even been here. Scattered pieces of metal littered the ice.

"Where now?" Tai asked.

Vaughn didn't say a word, and it was Logan who answered. "The nearest base is Russkaya, about seventy miles to the northeast."

"Let's get going then," Tai said.

"No." It was all coming together for Vaughn now. "No. We go after them."

"After who?" Logan asked, but Tai already knew the answer.

"The Koreans."

"But how?" Tai asked. "We don't know which way they've gone." Vaughn considered that for a few seconds. His advice that they stay in the reactor room had both saved them and almost doomed them. "They're heading for the coast," he finally answered.

"How do you know that?" Logan wanted to know.

"Because that's where I would go. It's their only option. They didn't land a plane in that storm even if they did jump in." He pointed at the ground. "And that's the direction their tracks go in." Tai turned and saw the tread marks leading off to the north.

"But they're probably very far ahead of us." Logan protested. "And they've got a vehicle." Vaughn agreed. "They must have taken one or two of the over-snow vehicles from the storage shed. They're certainly not pulling that bomb with manpower. They had a big head start and are moving much faster than we can on foot. Nevertheless we have to go after them. If they're heading for the coast, that's the direction we need to go."

"What do you mean 'need'?" Logan asked.

"They've already shown they are willing to use the bomb," Vaughn pointed out. "That changes things. We have to assume they have the other and plan to use it. It's up to us to stop them." Logan turned away from the two of them. Vaughn looked at Tai. "How do you feel? The three of you could stay here. The weather seems a little better. I'm sure they'll be flying someone out here in the next twenty-four hours."

"I'm with you," Tai quietly said as she stepped out to Vaughn's side.

"I am too," Burke said, moving beside her.

Logan waved his arms, gesturing toward the terrain around. "It's crazy. We could pass a quarter mile away from them and miss them. And what will we do if we do find them?"

"We stop them," Vaughn answered, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. Logan looked into Vaughn's eyes. "I say we stay here. We go wandering out there on the ice cap, we might never make it alive, regardless of whether we run into the Koreans or not."

"What happened to the guy who wanted to attack them in the base?" Vaughn asked.

"That was before they fired off a nuke," Logan argued. "These guys are crazy." Vaughn put his pack on. "You make your decision now."

"Tai, Burke, please stay here." Logan pleaded.

Tai picked up her pack. "We need to try, Logan."

Logan reluctantly shouldered his pack.

Vaughn's voice was flat. "All right. We go after them. But you three have to listen to me and do what I say without asking questions. This is my area of expertise."

They all nodded.

Vaughn pointed. "This way." With long strides he was off into the blowing snow, Tai at his side, Burke and Logan falling in behind.

CHAPTER 14

Pentagon

General Morris rubbed his forehead as Hodges came into the situation room. His conversation with the President had not gone well. The Secretary of Defense was on his way back from the West Coast to take over the operation here, but in the meantime the monkey was on Morris's back.

"We have the signature of the blast, sir. Fits the profile for a nuclear weapon."

"So how the hell did they end up at this place?" Morris demanded. "Who put them there?"

"I assume the same person who built the base, sir," Hodges replied.

"Anything from your guest?"

"Not yet, sir, but we'll get something. We're close. From what we've received so far, I would say that it appears the Citadel was a privately funded enterprise using government support." Morris closed his eyes. He didn't doubt that for a moment. Billions of dollars a year were spent by the government on various secret projects. Who was to say that some influential civilian couldn't do the same thing, especially if that civilian had the proper connections in the military industrial complex? "I want a name."

"Yes, sir."

Morris opened his eyes as the door opened, and an imposing figure in a medal-bedecked uniform stomped in.

Morris stood. "General Kolstov. Welcome."

The Russian general wasted no time on a greeting. "I understand there is a problem. A nuclear one." Since the President had informed the Kremlin of the source of the nuclear explosion that the Russians had also picked up, a liaison officer from the embassy representing all of the Confederation of Independent States of the former Soviet Union--;commonly referred to simply as the CIS--;had been assigned to the Pentagon to monitor the situation. It was part of the nuclear disarmament and control treaty both countries had signed the previous year: any incident involving nuclear weapons was to be monitored by both the U.S. and the CIS to ensure that there was no confusion or misunderstandings that might lead to unfortunate consequences.

Morris wasn't sure which he hated worse--;having a civilian superior riding herd on him or the presence of General Kolstov in the Pentagon War Room. Still, he had to admit it was a good idea. He knew that if his people had picked up an unknown nuclear explosion in Antarctica that the Russians said was an accident--;especially an accident that so far had very little logical explanation--;he'd sure as shit want to have someone sitting in on their investigation of it. Morris wasn't sure he'd buy the story of two bombs lost overboard and now suddenly reappearing at a mysterious base. He wasn't sure General Kolstov was going to buy it either.

Ford Mountain Range, Antarctica

The SUSV stuttered, pivoting to the right and not moving forward. Min grabbed the dashboard and turned a quizzical look at his driver. "What is wrong?"

"I don't know, sir. It is not responding."

"Stop." Min zipped his coat up and then opened his door. He climbed down to the snow. The answer stared him in the face. The track on the right side was gone. Min peered back. It was thirty feet to the rear, laid out in the snow like a long, thick metal snake. One of the linchpins holding it together had snapped in the bitter cold.

Kim joined him. "What now, sir?"

Min's reply was short. "We walk."

Kim didn't question. He rapped on the door to the rear cargo compartment and yelled in his instructions. Ho and Sun threw gear out. Lee came out of the driver's seat and joined them around the sled. They unhooked the tow rope and rigged it to be pulled by men.

Kim used his last satchel on the SUSV. The party moved out to the north, all men straining in the harness. Twenty minutes out a sharp crack from behind told of the destruction of the vehicle.

* * *

Vaughn's anger had started, low in his gut, from the minute he'd watched Smithers get shot. He'd been on the other side of the kind of ruthlessness the Koreans were displaying, but it had been for a better cause then. Or at least he'd thought it had been a better cause.

He was channeling his anger into his legs, pumping them as the miles passed beneath them. He was more than willing to go on without rest, but he knew that wasn't smart. His plan was to halt the party every fifty minutes for ten minutes of rest. Every other hour he would break out his small stove and cook up something hot--;soup or coffee. Initially they would go slower that way, but in the long run they would cover more miles. Years of bitter experience in Special Forces with the merciless weight of a rucksack on his back had taught him that. It was the long haul that was important here. They'd continued to follow the trace of tracks in the snow: two treads and a deep impression in the middle. Occasionally the trail would disappear as blown snow obscured the ice, but it was easy to pick up again. The Koreans were heading due north as quickly as the terrain would allow. Vaughn didn't allow himself to dwell on the fact that they were probably moving two to three times faster than he was.

* * *

"Does the sun shine all the time?" Kim asked as the five men huddled together next to the large sled, trying to share some warmth during the short break Min gave them every so often. Min looked up. The storm had lessened two hours ago, and visibility had increased to almost a mile. "We will have no night." Min's best estimate was that they were less than five miles from the coast. The only map he had was one he'd torn out of a world atlas stolen from a schoolroom prior to their departure from Indonesia. It was totally useless for navigating. He was offsetting his compass based on where the map said magnetic south was, but wasn't totally confident that he was taking the quickest possible route. His main goal was to head north--;as best he could tell--;and also stay on the lowest possible ground, skirting around mountains. Despite the bomb's weight, the sled pulled easily behind the five men--;as long as they were on level ground. They'd just spent the past forty-five minutes traversing back and forth, getting the sled up and over a large foothill--;making only two hundred horizontal meters in the process.

Min directed them to the left, along the edge of a massive wall of ice that shot up into the sky, where the polar ice cap had ruptured itself against rock. He hoped they could continue bypassing such formations and make it to the coast. They'd already lost quite a bit of time hauling the sled.

"Let's move," he ordered.

The five men staggered to their feet and placed themselves in harness.

Airspace, Pacific Ocean

"I'm awfully thirsty down here, big brother."

"Roger. I've got what you need."

The KC-10 stratotanker dwarfed the MC-130 Combat Talon as it jockeyed into position, closing in, less than forty feet above and to the front of the smaller aircraft. In the rear of the tanker, seated in a glass bubble, the boom operator toyed with his controls, directing the drogue boom toward the refuel probe on the nose of the Combat Talon. As the cup fit, he flicked a button on his yoke, locking the seal.

"We're in," he said into his mike, verbally confirming what the pilot 120 feet in front in the cockpit could already see on his control panel. "Pumping."

The two planes were at 25,000 feet, cruising at 350 miles per hour, yet maintaining their relative relationship with less than a two-foot variance at any moment. Jet fuel surged through the hose, filling up the almost dry tanks of the Combat Talon. The umbilical cord stayed in place for two minutes.

"I'm full down here, big brother."

"Roger. That'll be fourteen ninety-five." The drogue separated, and the KC-10 started gaining altitude, pulling away.

"Roger. Do you take checks?"

The stratotanker banked hard right, turning back toward home. "Your credit is good. Good luck and good hunting."

Surprised, the pilots in the cockpit of the MC-130 looked at each other. "Good hunting" was the traditional Air Force war cry for fighter pilots, not transport aircraft. But they realized the pilot of the KC-10 knew the same thing they did: their weapons were the men in the back half of the cargo hold. The 130 pilot keyed his mike. "I'll pass that on. Out."

Ford Mountain Range, Antarctica

Vaughn worked the bolt of the M-1, checking that it hadn't frozen. He pushed down on the top bullet, making sure the spring was still functioning correctly. Looking up, he noticed Tai watching him, her eyes framed by the frosted edge of her hood.

"Do you think we'll catch them?" she asked. He could see that she was shivering. That was bad--;he needed to balance the rests with the loss of heat better. It was hard for him to factor in the others' needs with his desire to catch the Koreans. Logan and Burke were wrapped together in a sleeping bag, trying to conserve their warmth.

"Not unless we get lucky."

"Then why do you want to go after them?" The words puffed out. Vaughn laid the rifle across his knees. His face hurt from the cold, and the skin on his cheek felt like crinkled paper as he spoke. "Several reasons. I didn't see much sense in doing anything before--;I figured we'd get out alive if we did nothing, and I also figured these guys would get caught. I was wrong on both counts: we're lucky to be alive, and these people are getting away. That's two mistakes, and I don't want to go for number three."

"But what can we do if we catch them?"

"I'll figure that out when we get there," Vaughn replied, which quite frankly was the truth. "We have to catch them first." He got to his feet. "All right. Let's move out."

"We're never going to catch them," Logan said, peering out from his bag. "I say we stay still--;we're losing too much energy walking."

Vaughn held back his anger. "Listen. If you want to, you can head back to the Citadel and camp out in the reactor room. Or you can head for the Russian base. Or you can stay here. I don't care. You do whatever you want to." He stood. "Time to move out." Tai stood and started putting her gear in her backpack. Burke slid out of the sleeping bag.

Surprisingly, it was Burke who talked to Logan. "We can't split up now. It would be too dangerous. Come on, Logan, let's go."

"We should have gone after them at the base like I wanted to," Logan complained. "We'll never catch them here. We need a break. We've been moving for over eight hours now." Vaughn started walking along the track, and Tai moved with him. After twenty meters he looked over his shoulder. Burke was talking to Logan, his head bent close next to him. Vaughn went another twenty meters and looked again. They were following.

Airspace, South Pacific Ocean

Major Bellamy listened through the headset as the pilot updated him on the situation. "The weather over the target is still too rough for you all to jump in. We're going to head to McMurdo Station and let you all jump there--;the winds are much lower. We've received word that there will be a platform there that you will load onto, and that will take you out to the target."

"What kind of platform?" Bellamy asked.

"Unknown. That's all I've got."

"Roger."

Bellamy put the headset down. They'd received the news about the nuclear explosion several hours ago, and Bellamy hadn't been thrilled with the idea of jumping right in on top of that. As far as he knew, he was supposed to just secure the site, but the information he was getting over the radio was confusing. The biggest unanswered question was why had the bomb gone off?

Antarctic

Walking along with her head bowed, eyes following the trail, Tai almost tripped over the tread lying there. She looked up and saw the circle of debris from the tractor twenty meters ahead.

"What happened?" she asked. "Did they have an accident?"

"Looks like they threw a track," Vaughn answered. "They must have destroyed the tractor, and they're on foot now, pulling the bomb."

"We might catch them, then," Tai said, feeling a surge of adrenaline.

"Yes." Vaughn didn't even bother to look at the others. He walked past the wreckage and found the furrow on the other side formed by the sled the bomb was on. He set out at an even quicker pace.

8th Army Headquarters, Seoul, South Korea

The staff was assembled for the daily 1000 briefing. The mood in the war room was deadly serious as the speaker approached the podium. General Patterson sat in the first row, facing the front. The G-2 was the lead briefer, as always, and today he had a rapt audience.

"Sir, unless there is a drastic change in data trends, we are currently less than two hours from going to level three threat. Our intelligence indicates the entire Korean People's Army is mobilizing. There are also unconfirmed reports that first and second stage reserves are being given their mobilization orders. The South Korean 4th Infantry Division has destroyed one infiltration tunnel in their sector of the DMZ north of Kumsong when the exit was opened." The G-2's pointer slapped the map. "No report on ROK or PKA losses."

Patterson ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. Since taking command of the 8th Army a year ago, he'd known he was in the most volatile military theater in the world that wasn't yet hot. The two countries were still technically at war, over fifty years after most people thought the Korean War had ended. In those fifty-odd years, thousands of people--;Korean and American--;had died in what the politicians liked to term "incidents." But what was brewing now was no incident. The accord that the two countries had signed in '92, promising better relations, had barely been worth the paper it was printed on. As long as Kim Il Sung ruled, there would be no united Korea other than under their rule.

"No indication of any drawback?" the G-3 asked.

"No, sir."

Patterson wasn't willing to wait two hours. Most of his combat troops were based less than an hour's flight time from the border, vulnerable to a quick air strike. While the carefully mapped intelligence plan for North Korean mobilization and preparation for war was accurate, Patterson also knew that there had been a very good intelligence plan in 1941 in Hawaii too. It hadn't worked too well. Patterson had authority to go to level three. Two required presidential approval. He had been here long enough to know one thing. The North Koreans were determined to go through with this, especially if Kim Il Sung was dying.

"All U.S. forces will go to level three. I will inform my South Korean counterpart and the Pentagon."

Ford Mountain Range, Antarctica

"Hold on!" Min yelled as he felt the rope give way through his gloves. Lieutenant Kim and Corporal Lee--;at the tail end of the sled--;wedged their bodies behind it to keep it from sliding back down the hundred-foot incline they had just laboriously negotiated.

"Pull," Min exhorted Sun and Ho, and they tried to get a better grip on the icy rope in the front. Ho slipped, and that did it--;the rope burned out of Min's grip, its entire weight bearing down on the two men on the rear. Lee screamed as the eight hundred pounds of weight snapped the leg he'd wedged up against the lip of the sled. Kim threw himself out of the way, and the sled ran over Lee's twisted leg and rocketed to the bottom of the incline before finally turning over.

Min slid his way down the hill to Lee. He didn't need to probe for the injury in Lee's thigh--;white bone had pierced through the many layers of clothes and was exposed to the brutal cold. Kim joined him, and they looked at each other over the injury. Lee's face was twisted as he forced himself not to scream again.

"We can pull him on the sled," Kim weakly suggested.

Min was angry at his executive officer for even saying that. With five men they had barely been able to keep pulling the sled. Now they were down to four.

Min slowly stood and took a deep breath.

"I will take care of it, sir," Kim said, obviously realizing the foolishness of his earlier comment.

"No." Min put his mittened hand on Kim's shoulder. "I am the leader. It is my responsibility." He looked down. "Do you wish for some time?"

Lee shook his head and closed his eyes. Min pulled his AK-47 up from where it hung across his back and slipped his index finger into the trigger finger in his mitten. He fired twice, both in the head, then turned and walked away. Behind him, Kim pulled two thermite grenades off his harness. He grabbed Lee's weapon, then placed one grenade on top of where Lee's face had been prior to the shots and one on his chest. He pulled both pins and followed his commander.

They went to the bottom of the hill. The puff and glow from the thermite grenades flickered on the incline above them as they struggled to right the sled. The fire had long burned out by the time they accomplished that and started the sled back up the hill, using longer traverses this time to prevent a repeat of the accident.

South Pacific Ocean

The flight deck of the Kitty Hawk was packed with rows of aircraft. F-14 Tomcats, E-2 Hawkeyes, S-3A Vikings, and F-18 Hornets competed for valuable parking space. On the port side of that crowded deck, the elevator from the first level hangar lifted into place smoothly, bringing up the only aircraft the carrier had just one of.

The most unusual thing immediately noticeable about the aircraft as it reached deck level was that the two engines at the end of each wing were pointing straight up, with massive propellers horizontal to the gray steel deck. The aircraft remained on the elevator as it came to a halt. Slowly, the two blades began turning in opposite directions.

After a minute of run-up, the aircraft shuddered and the wheels separated from the deck. Sliding slightly left, the aircraft gained altitude as the swiftly moving ship passed beneath. At sufficient height, the propellers slowly began switching orientation, moving from horizontal to vertical as the entire engine rotated and the airframe switched from helicopter mode to airplane. When the engine nacelles on the wingtips locked in place facing forward, the CV-22 Osprey caught up with the Kitty Hawk and passed it, racing ahead for Antarctica, 1,900 miles away.

The tilt rotor operation of the Osprey made it the most valuable and unique transport aircraft ever built. Congressional budget cuts and interservice squabbling had killed the program back in 1990, but this particular aircraft was one of eight that had been produced by Bell-Boeing during the original prototype construction. The eight had been deployed to the various carrier groups, flown by Marine Corps pilots, to allow maximum flexibility of use. That innovative deployment idea for an original plane was now paying dividends.

Ford Mountain Range, Antarctica

Tai sensed something different and halted. She peered ahead, trying to figure out what it was that had alerted her when she realized that it was the lack of something, rather than the presence, that had caught her attention. She turned around and looked back--;Burke and Logan were almost a hundred meters behind them and moving very slowly. She had no idea how long she and Vaughn had been pulling away from them. It had been the lack of the sound of their shuffling feet on the ice that she had finally missed in her single-minded efforts to keep up with Vaughn.

"Hold it," she called out to Vaughn.

He turned. "What?"

Tai pointed, and together they retraced their tracks.

"What's the matter?" Tai asked Burke when they came up to them. He pointed at Logan, who was shivering uncontrollably. "He says he can't feel his feet."

"Sit down," Vaughn ordered Logan.

Vaughn shrugged off his backpack and knelt down next to him. Logan's skin was white, and he was not fully aware of his environment. His lips were pale blue and he was shivering uncontrollably: the early symptoms of hypothermia. If allowed to progress much further, Logan would go into true hypothermia, and Vaughn knew he couldn't do anything then--;not in this environment.

"Get in your sleeping bag," Vaughn ordered Burke. "Zip your bag with his and try to get him warmed up." Logan looked right through him. He started walking off, back in the direction they had come from. Vaughn stood and caught up with him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to get help," was the barely coherent reply.

Vaughn grabbed his arm and dragged him back. He took Logan's backpack off and pulled out the sleeping bag. "Get in this. You're not in any shape to go looking for help." He quickly dug through Logan's backpack and pulled out his bag and sleeping pad. He laid them out, unzipped the bag as well as Burke's, and helped them into it. Then he pulled out his portable stove as Tai crawled into her own bag to keep warm. He pumped it up, squeezed starter gel around the nozzle and lit it. After getting it running smoothly, he pulled his canteen from the vest pocket of his parka and poured water into his canteen cup.

Vaughn made a cup of instant soup and split it between Logan and Burke. He forced it down Logan's throat, getting the warm liquid to his stomach. The early stages of hypothermia consisted of circulation to the hands and feet being reduced as the body tried to maintain temperature in the vital organs. Vaughn knew that no matter how well insulated those extremities now were, they would not keep warm unless the central core of the body was warmed. He also knew that it wasn't the cold that had precipitated this, but lack of fluid intake.

It was now a grim equation--;they had to raise Logan's heat production higher than his heat loss using body warmth. "Keep him warm," Vaughn ordered Burke. The large black man nodded from within the sleeping bags. Vaughn himself could feel the cold gnawing through his joints, so he placed his bag next to Tai's and crawled in. They had to give up an hour or two of traveling to ensure that they could keep going.

"What are you doing?" Tai mumbled as Vaughn pressed up against her. He didn't say anything, wrapping his body around hers, and with great difficulty he managed to get the two bags zipped together. He could feel her drawing off his warmth like a heat vampire.

"You need to stay awake for a little while," he exhorted her. "At least until we get your blood circulating properly. You're not too far away from going hypothermic yourself. Then you can rest."

"Too tired," she mumbled.

Vaughn considered the situation. They needed to get their core body temperatures stable before they could move again. Despite the time pressure of wanting to catch up to the North Koreans, he accepted the reality that they had to stop for a while.

Vaughn forced himself to spoon around Tai and wait. After half an hour he knew she was over the worst of it, and he felt the desire to get moving again. They needed to leave Burke and Logan behind and move ahead on their own. Vaughn could feel the time clock going. How far ahead were the Koreans?

But taking over from all that resolve was his exhaustion. He knew that he himself wasn't too far away from going hypothermic. His hands were already flirting with frostbite. Aw fuck it, he decided, even while another part of his mind screamed no--;an hour or two of rest would be worth it if he could move faster. He hugged Tai closer, closed his eyes and felt her head nestle against his shoulder.

Pentagon

Secretary of Defense Torreta did not appear to be pleased to be sitting in the situation room at ten at night after a nonstop flight back from the West Coast. General Morris ran a hand along the stubble of his beard as the Secretary gestured for him to continue with his situation update.

"The Combat Talon is three hours out from McMurdo Base. The Osprey has just taken off from the Kitty Hawk. It will arrive at McMurdo in five hours. The Special Forces soldiers will cross-load to the Osprey and fly out to the target site."

"We still have no imagery of what happened there?" Torreta inquired.

"No, sir. The weather is clearing, but the site itself is still cloud covered. We only have a viewing opportunity by satellite every three hours as it passes over."

Torreta glanced at the notes his aide had prepared for him. "What's the problem in Korea?" Morris frowned at the change in subject. "Intelligence has picked up enough North Korean activity to justify going to a level three alert."

"Yes, yes, I know that." Torreta replied testily. "But what's this message about the Kitty Hawk Carrier Group from the 8th Army commander?"

Morris hated airing conflicts in front of civilians. "General Patterson wants the group to move north in order to be in better position to support him if something occurs in the peninsula."

"Does the man understand we have a nuclear problem?" Torreta demanded.

"No, sir. That information is under a need-to-know basis."

"Well, I don't want to see any more messages like this. One problem at a time. The President is not happy. He's already had to talk to the CIS president about this incident, and that has proved to be somewhat embarrassing as he doesn't have all the answers himself. I want this mess secured and cleaned up. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Morris had long ago learned not to argue with his civilian superiors, but he disagreed with the present prioritizing of events. This Korean thing was much more significant than Torreta was giving it credit. Since the war in Iraq he felt people were getting much too focused on the wrong things and complacent about the potential for war in other locations. Korea had been hot for over fifty years, and sooner or later the simmering would break out into flames.

Morris looked over his shoulder at the electronic wall map that represented significant military--;U.S. and foreign--;deployments throughout the world. He had a feeling he was missing something very important.

Ice Pack, 20 Miles Off the Ruppert Coast, Antarctica

The freighter picked its way through the ice, barely crawling at three knots. Every so often it had to back its way out of a dead end and try to slip left or right. The captain was in constant communication with his shivering lookout eighty feet above the bridge in the crow's nest, trying to find a route through the piles of ice. Occasionally, the captain would use the reinforced bow of the ship to smash through thinner ice, but large chunks, some hundreds of meters in width, were more than a match for his steel ship. Those had to be bypassed.

The horizon far ahead was a mass of clouds, but the captain knew that if the clouds lifted, he would soon be able to see the shore. So far his radio operator had not heard a single transmission on the designated frequency. The captain hoped that the people he was to pick up were ready for him because he did not want to sit in the ice pack waiting for them. Ships had been crushed as the ice froze around them. He wanted to move in and out as quickly as possible and get this mission over with.

Ford Mountain Range, Antarctica

Vaughn opened his eyes and tried to orient himself. He felt strangely warm, which was a very nice feeling. He twitched his fingers and was surprised to find them wrapped around a body. Then it all came back to him--;stopping, climbing in the bag with Tai to warm her up, talking. He must have dozed off. The thought of giving up the warmth of the bag was extremely discouraging.

Vaughn unzipped the bag and crawled out. His movements woke Tai, who blearily opened her eyes.

"What's up?"

"Get your boots on before they freeze up," he told her. "They're in the waterproof bag near your stomach. We need to get moving."

He peered up--;the sky was clearing. The sun hadn't broken through yet, but the clouds were much higher, and he could see farther along the ice than at any period since the storm had started. The wind had also died down. Vaughn checked his watch. They'd been out for almost two hours. He wasn't happy about losing that time, but he'd had no choice.

He glanced over to the other sleeping bag lying there on the ice. There was no movement from Logan or Burke.

"Wake up!" he called out as he started packing his stuff up.

"Oh my God!" Burke cried out as he scrambled out of the bag.

Vaughn rushed over. Logan wasn't moving. His eyes were staring at him wide-open, and it took Vaughn a second before he realized they were totally unfocused and glassy. The pupils in the center were black orbs looking into the depths of wherever Logan had allowed himself to be dragged. Vaughn looked up with a grim face. "He's dead."

Burke was shaking, but not from the cold. "You mean he died there right next to me?" Vaughn zipped up the sleeping bag, closing it over Logan's face. "Yes," he replied, and looked at the inert sleeping bag. There was only one way they could atone for this. "Let's go." Burke looked at him with wide eyes. "We're just going to leave him here?" Vaughn finished stuffing his sleeping bag into his backpack. "There's nothing else we can do. We can't haul the body."

* * *

The increasing visibility made Min pessimistic about making it to the coast, as it revealed a massive ridge lying directly across their path. There was no way around it. The ice rose in moderately steep waves, up over a thousand feet for the next three kilometers.

He had given his men a one-hour break earlier, but it had done little to restore the energy they were burning pulling the sled and fighting off the cold. He could sense his men looking at him and the ridge, their eyes shifting from one to the other. Not a word was said.

Min leaned forward, the rope around his waist pulling tight, and the other men joined and began to traverse to the right, angling their way uphill.

Airspace, McMurdo Station

The MC-130 Combat Talon leveled out over the Ross Ice Shelf, boring straight in for Mount Erebus, twenty miles away. In the rear, Major Bellamy checked the rigging of the static lines for the two bundles, one hooked to each cable. The bundles were tied down on the back ramp, and Bellamy's men were standing now, parachutes on their back, just short of the edge of the ramp. They all felt the plane slow down, and the loadmaster looked at Bellamy. "Three minutes out." A gap appeared up in the top part of the rear of the aircraft, and freezing air swirled in. The back ramp leveled off, while the top part ascended up into the tail, leaving a large open space. Bellamy stared out. The view was spectacular, with the entire Ross Ice Shelf laid out below to the east.

"One minute!" the loadmaster yelled through the scarf wrapped about his face, trying to be heard above the roar of engines and air.

"One minute," Bellamy relayed to his men, all hooked up to the left cable. He edged out, right behind the bundle. The red light glowed up in the darkness of the upper tail structure.

"Stand by!" the loadmaster yelled as he leaned over one of the bundles with a knife in his hand as another Air Force man did the same on the other side.

The light flashed green, and the loadmaster severed the nylon band holding the bundle down. It immediately was sucked out the rear of the plane. The other bundle went out at almost the same time. Bellamy waddled out after it, hands over his reserve, chin tucked into his chest. He felt like he was passing straight through the static line and deployment bag of the bundle as he stepped off the edge of the ramp. Three seconds of free fall were followed by the snap of the chute deploying. Bellamy guided himself by the two bright red parachutes of the bundles as he descended. As the ice rushed up, he stared straight out at the horizon and bent his knees. With a grunt he hit the ice. Gathering in his chute, Bellamy watched as the rest of his men hit in a long line of white parachutes along the track of the aircraft. He could also see a large snow tractor rumbling toward him, pulling a sled. The tractor pulled up, and two men hopped off, one wearing an Air Force parka and the other in civilian garb, sporting a large beard.

The military man introduced himself first. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Larkin, and this is Dr. O'Shaugnesy, McMurdo Station leader. We--;"

"What is your purpose here?" O'Shaugnesy interrupted.

Bellamy blinked and looked at the civilian, then at Colonel Larkin. "Didn't you brief him?" Larkin wearily nodded. "I briefed him."

"If you expect me to believe you and your men are conducting rescue practice, then you must take me for a fool," O'Shaugnesy snorted. "Do you have any weapons with you?" Bellamy spread his empty hands wide. "Of course not." Asshole, he thought. O'Shaugnesy and the entire scientific community at McMurdo were almost totally dependent on support from the U.S. military, yet they acted as if they owned the place. Bellamy had not been thrilled about putting all his weapons in the bundles, but had followed his orders. One of these days public relations was going to destroy a mission. Larkin interposed himself between the two. "Your other aircraft is en route, Major. It should arrive in about four hours. In the meanwhile, we'll put you up in the airstrip control tower." He turned to O'Shaugnesy. "Doctor, I did you a courtesy by obliging your request and bringing you out here. I ask that you not harass Major Bellamy and his men. They will be out of your station as soon as possible." Under the distrusting eye of O'Shaugnesy, Bellamy's team gathered together and loaded the two bundles on the sled. The men jumped on board, and then they all moved out for the main base, three miles away.

Ice Pack, 8 Miles off the Ruppert Coast, Antarctica

"This is as far as we can go," the captain informed Fatima. The bow of the freighter was securely wedged in ice, and less than a hundred meters to the front a large block of ice that had broken off a glacier last season and slowly made its way out into the ocean blocked the way.

The captain knew he could probably do some more maneuvering--;trying to find the thin ice--;but he also had to be able to get back out, and he felt he was as far in as he could go and still be able turn around.

Fatima stood next to him, peering out the glass of the bridge at the mountains that now loomed in the near distance. They looked less than a mile away, but the captain knew they were farther--;he just didn't tell Fatima that. A large glacier, probably the same one that had spawned the block just in front of them, split the mountains to the right front.

"All right. We wait." Fatima turned and went back to his cabin.

Far South Pacific Ocean

With the assistance of the hydraulic catapult, the E-2 Hawkeye roared off the deck of the Kitty Hawk and dipped down below deck level, then rapidly gained altitude as it headed southeast. Upon reaching 10,000 feet altitude, the twenty-four-foot diameter radome that sat on the top of the fuselage began turning, at a rate of six revolutions per minute. Inside the fuselage, the three controllers watched their screens as an area three hundred miles out in all directions from the aircraft was displayed before them. In three hours the Citadel would be in range.

Vicinity Ruppert Coast, Antarctica

They were three-quarters of the way up the ridge when Min finally called a halt. It was only another kilometer straight-line distance to the top, but the wide traverses would more than triple that distance.

"Rest," Min ordered. "I will be back shortly." He had to know whether they were at the coast or not. He could tell that dedication to duty only went so far. His men were at the limits of their capabilities. They needed some positive news.

Leaving his three men huddled together next to the sled, Min untied the rope from his waist and headed straight up the ridge, ignoring the screaming pain of exhaustion in his thighs. His breath crackled in the brittle air as he made his way to the top.

As he climbed, his thoughts turned to home, a place he had a feeling he would never see again. Even if they made it to the freighter--;if the ship was there--;and the ship made it to Hawaii…and they managed to infiltrate with the bomb…and--; Min stopped that train of thought. He thought of his mother and regretted never having married so his mother would have a daughter-in-law to take care of her in her old age. As an only son, his dedication to country had taken him away from his family, leaving his parents alone.

The top was not much farther. Min slipped and fell, almost tumbling back down the way he had come, but he dug the metal folding stock of his AK-47 into the ice and stopped himself. Getting to his feet, he covered the remaining distance.

Cresting the ridge, he stopped and stared, his heart lifting. The ocean--;at least he assumed it was the ocean under all that ice--;was less than four kilometers away. Sweeping in from his left and descending to the ocean was a large glacier.

Min stared for a long time, then his eyes focused in on a black speck just to the side of a large iceberg. The ship! It was far out on the ice sheet but within sight. He turned and headed back down the slope.

Vicinity Ruppert Coast, Antarctica

"Look!" Vaughn exclaimed.

Tai squinted and peered through red-rimmed eyes. She had no idea what he was pointing at. In fact, she had a feeling she was in a dream--;a very bad one at that. She wished she could dream of warmth and comfort and lying in front of a fireplace with--;

"There." Vaughn grabbed her and pointed again. "Near the top of the ridge of ice." Tai seemed to remember lying safe and warm in a pair of strong arms. Was that a dream too? Or had that been reality and this a dream? Which was which? Then she saw it too. Tiny black figures against the white background, just below the top. An oblong shape on the ice to their left rear. Reality came flooding back.

"Is it them?"

"Yes." Vaughn's voice held an edge she had never heard before.

"How far away do you think they are?"

"It's hard to tell. Maybe four, five miles."

It had seemed closer than that to Tai. Four or five miles sounded like forever. "Can we catch them?"

"It depends on how far away the coast is," Vaughn replied. "They've got the high ground on us." Instead of immediately running off toward the Koreans like she expected him to, he turned and looked at her.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm tired and I'm cold. But I can make it." Tai was surprised as soon as she said it, but it was true. Vaughn's face was wind-burned, and the stubble of a two-day beard competed with the raw flesh for surface area. When he smiled at her, the lines around his eyes and cheeks cut deep divots. He glanced at Burke, who nodded his assent. "All right. Let's go."

They moved out, and the Koreans disappeared from sight as the two approached a small ice ridge. Vaughn was leading the way up when he caught sight of something black off to the right. He headed in that direction.

"What's that in the snow?" Tai asked as she also spotted the unnatural object.

"Wait here," Vaughn told her. He walked forward and stared down for a few brief seconds until he recognized what he was looking at, then quickly turned and bumped into Tai, with Burke standing next to her.

"I told you to wait back there."

"I'm not a child that you can tell what to do and what not to do." Tai looked over his shoulder. "What is that?"

"One of the Koreans. Or what's left of one of them," he replied. Now she could recognize the pieces of white as bone and the charred flesh. Thankfully, there was no smell. "What could have done that to him?"

"I don't know how he died, but someone put a couple of thermal grenades on the body so it couldn't be identified." Vaughn tapped her on the shoulder. "Let's keep going. This means they'll be moving even slower."

* * *

Min collapsed. Getting to the top of this ridge, pulling the sled, was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. His entire body reverberated with pain overlaid with exhaustion. He lay there panting, feeling the sweat freeze on his skin. He knew he needed to do something, but he couldn't. Not now. He wanted to be home again, lying on the tiled floor of his parents house, feeling the heat rising through the floor from the burning coal he had to load every evening, hearing his mother in the kitchen pounding cabbage, preparing kimchee.

Min roused himself. "The radio," he called out. Ho pulled a package off the sled and handed it to him. With fumbling fingers inside his mittens, Min unwrapped the radio. He hoped it worked. They had wrapped it in metal foil to protect it from the EMP blast of the bomb, but he had little faith in the recommendations of scientists.

He threw the antenna out on the ice. Taking his mittens off, Min swiftly dialed in the correct frequency and turned the radio on. By the time he put his gloves back on, he had lost the feeling in all his fingers. A distant part of his mind told him that was bad, very bad.

Using both hands, he pushed the Send on the handset with a palm. "Tiger, this is Wolf. Over." As each second of silence ticked by, Min's heart fell.

"Tiger, this is Wolf. Over."

"Wolf, this is Tiger. Over."

Min felt a wave of relief. "This is Wolf. We are within sight. Over."

"Roger." There was a brief break of squelch as if the other station went off the air. Then the voice came back. "Do you have the package? Over."

"Yes. Over."

"Roger. We will wait for you. Out."

Airspace, Ross Sea, Antarctica

"What language does that sound like?" the Signal Intelligence operator aboard the E-2 Hawkeye asked the other four men on board as he played back the message he had just intercepted. He received negative replies from all, although the pilot suggested it was Asian. "Where'd you pick it up from?"

"Low power, high frequency radio coming from the southeast."

"Airborne platform?" the pilot asked.

"Negative. I don't think so--;the signal was fixed," the SIGINT operator replied.

"I've got zip on the scope," the radar operator replied. "We're the only thing in the air other than the blip down near McMurdo."

"Relay it back to the ship, maybe they can figure it out," the pilot ordered.

"Roger."

McMurdo Station, Antarctica

The Osprey slowed as its engines switched from horizontal to vertical. Major Bellamy watched as the aircraft slowly settled down in a whirlwind of snow.

"Let's go," he yelled as his men followed him, hauling their two as-yet unopened bundles with them. They crowded into the cargo bay as the crew chief ran out and coordinated the refueling. Hoses were run from the fuel blisters, and JP-4 fuel was pumped in as Bellamy's men settled in. Bellamy went forward into the cockpit.

The pilot looked over his shoulder as Bellamy poked his head in. "Captain Jones." He nodded at the copilot. "As soon as we're topped off we'll be lifting."

"Have you heard anything about the target site?" Bellamy asked. The pilot shook his head. "Nothing. We've got a Hawkeye in the air, and it should be in radar range of the site soon. I'm not sure if that will give us anything, but at least we'll know if we're the only ones in the sky."

Bellamy frowned. He'd expected something more.

"We're full," the pilot announced.

Bellamy made his way back to the rear. His men had opened the bundles and were passing out the weapons, each man receiving his according to his specialty and talents: silenced MP-5SD submachine guns, PM sniper rifles, SPAS 12 shotguns, M249 Squad Automatic Weapons (SAW), LAW 80 rocket launchers, and sidearms. If there was anybody left alive at the target site and they were antagonistic, Bellamy's men were ready.

Airspace, Ross Sea, Antarctica

The radar operator stared at his screen. "Shit, there's still nothing out here," he muttered to the man on his left. He'd never seen such a blank screen. Not a single aircraft in a six-hundred-mile radius, the Osprey having disappeared as it landed at McMurdo.

He flipped a switch and the radar went from air to surface. This was a different story. He stared at the screen, trying to make sense out of the jumbled mess. The surface bounce-back was very confusing, even where the sea should be. He was used to a flat reflection where ships stood out in stark relief to the ocean. Here, ice formations broke that image up into a confusing disarray. The naval officer slowly started sorting the screen out, trying to see if there was anything identifiable. He fiddled with his controls, adjusting and tuning, like a kid playing a computer game.

"Hey, I've got something here," he told the SIGINT operator. Keying his mike, he relayed his report back to the Kitty Hawk. "Big Boot, this is Eye One. We have a surface target, bearing 093 degrees true. Distance, 273 miles. Speed zero. Over."

CHAPTER 15

Ruppert Coast, Antarctica

Min had been tempted to pile his survivors on board the sled and ride the glacier down, but wisdom had prevailed, and they lashed themselves as a human brake to the rear of the sled, keeping the bomb from getting away from them only with great difficulty.

They'd gotten off the glacier less than ten minutes ago, and now they were on top of the ocean, making their way across the ice. In most places it was so thick they couldn't tell the difference between it and the polar cap they'd been on, but in other places the ice thinned out and, with the snow scraped off by the wind, the ocean could be seen below. It was these areas that Min had his men skirt around. He estimated another four to six hours until they arrived at the freighter, which was now hidden by the surface ice.

Pentagon, Alexandria, Virginia

General Morris listened to the intercepted message as he tried to shake the cobwebs of sleep out of his brain. "That language sounds familiar," he remarked as the short exchange played out.

"It's Han Gul--;Korean," Hodges informed him.

Morris felt a chill hand caress his spine. "Where did the Hawkeye say this originated from?" Hodges tapped the map. "Here along the coast due north of the Citadel. It was someone on the shore communicating with a ship the Hawkeye has located as fixed in the ice pack right here, eight miles off the coast."

"Do you have a translation of the message?" Morris asked.

"Yes, sir." Hodges pressed a button on a tape player, and an unemotional voice spoke in English: Station One: "Tiger, this is Wolf. Over."

Station One: "Tiger, this is Wolf. Over."

Station Two: "Wolf, this is Tiger. Over."

Station One: "This is Wolf. We are within sight. Over."

Station Two: "Roger. Do you have the package? Over."

Station One: "Yes. Over."

Station Two: "Roger. We will wait for you. Out."

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Morris muttered to himself. Then he spoke up: "Do you have an ID on the ship?"

"No, sir. The E-2 is over two hundred miles away and at its fuel limit range. They just have a radar image. They're launching another E-2 right now to replace it and it will be able to get in a bit closer." Morris turned to the duty officer. "Get the SecDef and General Kolstov here ASAP." He looked at the situation map. The Kitty Hawk was still 1,100 miles from the Citadel, over 1,000 from the freighter. "What's the range on your attack aircraft from the carrier?" he asked the naval duty officer.

"More specifically, do you have anything you can put on station over that ship?" The naval officer didn't even have to consult his notes. "Not yet, sir."

"When, then?"

"We'll be able to launch some Tomcats in about three hours. They won't have much time on station--;less than twenty minutes--;and they'll have to carry a minimum armament load." Morris stared at the situation map, the pieces falling in place even though he wasn't sure what they all meant. The North Koreans had one bomb and were still making for the ship. Once they made it on board, it was going to be a very ticklish situation. But it definitely fit in with the alerts they were hearing from the peninsula. Morris wondered what the North Koreans were going to do with one nuclear weapon, but he knew there were a variety of answers, none of them good. If not for the alert from Area 51, the whole thing might have been overlooked, even the explosion, as no one would have initially thought of a nuclear weapon. The reaction here would have definitely been quite a bit slower. Damn, the sons of bitches almost got away with it, he thought. They still might, he reminded himself.

"How about the Osprey with the Special Forces men?" he asked.

"Just lifted from McMurdo. A little less than three hours out."

"Divert them directly to the coast."

"Yes, sir."

Morris looked up as Kolstov strode in. He idly wondered how the Soviet general managed to look so unruffled after being dragged out of his bunk down the hallway. The uniform was immaculate, and Kolstov's bald head gleamed under the overhead lights.

"I understand you have something new?" His English was perfect also.

"Yes." Morris quickly filled him in on the data picked up by the Hawkeye and then played the translation tape. He concluded with his best estimate of the situation. "I think this has something to do with the mobilization intelligence we are picking up in North Korea."

Kolstov raised an eyebrow. "You did not inform me of the situation in Korea."

"I didn't think it was applicable."

Kolstov nodded. "Yes. Hmm. Well, I was aware of the situation there from my own sources." Morris knew he meant the coded radio messages that poured in and out of the CIS Embassy. He had no doubt that the Russians kept a very close eye on the North Koreans.

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

"From the message, it appears that the ship is waiting for a party on foot that has one of the bombs. We're going to have to stop it."

"What if the party makes it on board the ship before you can stop it?" Kolstov was looking over Morris's shoulder at the situation board and could easily see that there were no U.S. forces in the immediate vicinity of the ship.

"Then we stop the ship," Morris coldly replied.

"Ah, my American friend. You have no right to stop that ship in international seas." Morris bristled. He knew they never should have allowed the goddamn Russians in on this. This guy was going to give him bullshit arguments about freedom of navigation when a nuclear weapon was involved.

"My job is to get that bomb back."

Kolstov appeared not to have heard. "In fact, my friend, you are not even certain that the package referred to in the message is your lost bomb. What if you attempt to board that ship and you are wrong?" Morris bit his words off. "They've already detonated one bomb. That proves they are capable of doing it. I have no doubt they will not stop at detonating the second. I will not allow that ship anywhere near a potential target. I am not sure how this is tied in to what is presently happening in North Korea right now, but I am sure there is a connection.

"We have the potential here for all-out war on the Korean peninsula, and I believe your government is in agreement with mine that we don't want that. I am willing to take the chance that I am wrong to stop that ship."

"Ah," Kolstov said. "But what if your boarding that ship constitutes an act of war in the eyes of the North Koreans? What if they are drawing you into a trap?"

That hadn't occurred to Morris. This whole thing was so vague he wasn't sure which end was up.

"Maybe," he conceded. "But we're going to make sure." Kolstov held up a hand, palm out. "My friend, perhaps in the interest of world peace, I might be able to help you with your little problem."

Morris would rather have crawled naked over broken glass for a mile. But he forced a smile and said,

"What do you have in mind, my friend?"

Ruppert Coast, Antarctica

"How are you feeling?" Vaughn asked as they all collapsed to their knees on the crest of the ridge.

"Tired," Tai replied.

"Ditto," Burke remarked.

"Are either of you sweating?"

"No."

"No."

"Good. Drink half your canteen. I'll melt some more water in a minute." Vaughn pulled his own canteen out of the flap pocket of his parka--;the only place it could be carried and not freeze--;and took a deep drink of the chilly water.

He peered down to the ocean, scanning in sections. "Look--;out there!" The ship lay like a black bug miles out in the ice pack.

"Where are the ones on foot? Have they reached it yet?" Tai asked.

"It doesn't appear to be moving, and I don't think they could make it that far this quickly." Vaughn brought his gaze in closer. After a minute he spotted them. "There. See that large square iceberg? To the left and in."

"They're halfway out there." Tai sounded resigned. "We'll never catch them." The walk up the ridge had just about wiped out Vaughn. A quarter of the way up, seeing Tai occasionally stumbling with exhaustion, he'd taken her pack and strapped it on top of his own. For a little while she'd done all right, but he could tell she was at the limit of her resources.

"You stay here. I'll go after them alone." Vaughn knew if he didn't catch them before they got on the ship, the chase was in vain.

Tai shook her head. "I'll go with you. If it's a choice between being tired and being cold, I choose tired. As long as I keep moving I'll be all right."

"I'm not staying here alone," was Burke's only comment.

Vaughn was too numb to argue. He knew it was up to them to catch the Koreans or else they'd get away. He took the stove out and got it started. He emptied his canteen in the metal cup and placed it on top of the stove. Once the water was boiling, he scooped up ice and melted it, gradually filling his, Tai, and Burke's canteens as they rested.

"Are you ready?" he asked as he put the stove away.

Tai stood. "Do you think we can catch them?"

In reply, Vaughn took two snap links and slipped them through small loops at the end of his twelve-foot length of rope. He reached under Tai's parka and hooked one end to her belt. He hooked the other to Burke's and then himself to the center.

"What's this for?" Tai asked.

Vaughn pointed to the left, where the deceptively smooth surface of the glacier glistened a quarter mile away. "We're going to make up some time going down."

Ruppert Coast, Antarctica

"Ready?"

Tai looked up at Vaughn and weakly nodded. Burke had a death grip around her and didn't say anything. They were both wrapped in a nylon poncho, lying on their back inside a sleeping bag, heads cushioned with their backpack. Vaughn's M-1 was on Tai's chest, her hands wrapped around it. Vaughn began walking, the rope tightening around Tai's and Burke's waists, pulling them along on the ice. He accelerated to a jog, the slope helping increase their speed. Satisfied, he flopped down on his stomach, his Gore-Tex parka and pants sliding on the ice.

Linked together, the three tobogganed down the glacier, Vaughn trying to control speed and direction with the point of his entrenching tool. Tai had no doubt that they would be very black and blue if they survived this as they rattled over bumps in the ice.

They were three-quarters of the way down to the coast, Tai too numb to even feel anything anymore, when Vaughn broke through the ice into a crevasse. His yell gave Tai less than a second to react. She did the only thing she could, holding the M-1 up across her body as her feet slammed against the far side of the break. She started sliding down, the rope around her waist dragging her down, and desperately jammed the muzzle of the weapon into the ice. The poncho and sleeping bag fell off and disappeared into the depths. Tai came to a brief halt and then felt a tremendous jar as Vaughn reached the end of her rope and dangled below.

Suddenly there was no more weight on the rope. Tai was still, not believing she was alive. Her feet were pressed up against the far side ice wall, and the rifle, dug into the near side, kept her in a precarious balance in the mouth of the crevasse. Carefully, she looked down below. The crevasse widened and descended into a blue darkness as far as she could see. Vaughn was standing there, ten feet below on a narrow ledge of ice, looking up with wide eyes.

"Vaughn!" she cried out.

"Yeah. Are you all right?" The voice echoed off the walls.

"I can't move!" she replied.

"Hold still! I'm on a small ledge down here. Let me try to climb up. Burke?" The reply from above echoed down. "Yeah?"

"Are you stable?" Vaughn asked.

"I got my feet dug in. I can hold, but I don't think I can get enough traction to pull the two of you up."

"All right, just hold on, then," Vaughn said.

Tai wasn't about to go anywhere. She could hear Vaughn working with his entrenching tool below her. The minutes passed, and she felt her feet shift on the ice, her heart going to her throat. How far would she fall if she slipped? she wondered. Would the fall kill her or would she lie down there broken but alive, the cold taking the final toll on the way to an icy grave, preserved forever here?

"Hang tough." She heard Vaughn's labored breathing, and out of the corner of her eye she could finally see him moving. He would reach up and dig out a hold in the ice with the shovel and haul himself up. It was a slow process, and she wasn't sure how long she could hold here, her numb hands wrapped around the rifle, all feeling in her feet already gone. She assumed her feet were still at the end of her legs. She knew they weren't moving only because she could feel her knees shivering inside her heavy pants. Vaughn reached Tai's level, and she carefully turned her head to look at him. He gave her a forced smile.

"Some ride, eh?"

He was now wedged like she was--;his back and feet against the ice. She watched as he squirmed his way up until he could get over the lip. He disappeared over the forward side, then his head reappeared. "I'm anchored up here with Burke. Ready?"

Tai shook her head. "I can't feel my feet."

Vaughn puffed out a deep breath. "All right. We'll pull you up. When I yell, you pull your feet out. Okay?"

"Can you do it?"

"We'll do it." He was gone.

Tai anxiously waited.

"Ready?"

Tai briefly closed her eyes. "Yes."

"Let go."

Tai tucked her knees in and fell for an interminable split second, and then the rope tightened down on her waist, causing her to exhale sharply and stopping her. She scrabbled at the ice with her dead hands and feet, trying to help Vaughn and Burke as much as she could. Inch by inch she went up until she could slap an arm down on the surface. The pressure on the rope was maintained, and she continued up until she could get her waist over and roll onto the surface.

She lay there, savoring the sight of the open sky. Vaughn crawled up next to her and collapsed, throwing an arm over her and pulling her in tight. "You all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

Vaughn leaned over her. "Do you want to go on?"

She got to her feet with great effort. "Yes."

Geneva

"We have the other eleven names," the Senior Assessor informed the High Counsel. The names were projected on one of the large screens and on the High Counsel's own office screen. All eleven were either very high in the United States government or very rich men.

"They went international," the High Counsel noted as he read one of the names.

"Pablo Escovan," the Senior Assessor noted. "The head of the Mexican drug cartel. The richest man in Mexico."

"This is a mess," the High Counsel said. "Only three of those names are ours. Have you projected courses of action?"

"Yes, sir. With a sixty-four percent recommendation: wipe out Majestic-12." The High Counsel sighed. "CARVE?" he asked, using an acronym they had developed.

"Criticality," the Senior Assessor began, reciting from the first letter of the acronym. "These men are the members of the group that established the Citadel and kept it secret from us all these years. They have been pursuing their own course of action for over fifty years. If they are gone, Majestic-12 is gone.

"Accessibility. It will be difficult to attack the remaining eleven at the same time under normal circumstances. Some of them are the most heavily guarded people on the planet. However, these are not normal circumstances. Our sources report that at least four that we know of are either en route or already at Area 51. The other seven we don't know about, but we should assume they also will be there shortly. An emergency meeting.

"Recuperability. These are not men who share with underlings. And since they have managed to keep the existence of Majestic-12 from us for this long, we have to assume they have extensive cutouts in place. Thus, if we cut off the head, it is a very high probability there will be no one to take their places.

"Vulnerability. Area 51 is a hard site. Their meeting place is deep underground. However, it is a United States military base. We have access to resources. We can do it.

"Effect. Extensive. Economic turmoil. Political fallout in Washington. We have already alerted our public relations people to prepare for it. The presence of Escovan certainly helps. It will be costly but manageable."

The Senior Assessor fell silent.

"Action is authorized," the High Counsel finally said.

Ruppert Coast, Antarctica

"Come on!" Min exhorted his three exhausted partners. "There is the ship." The four leaned into the rope, and the sled creaked along the ice, making its way toward the ship, now less than two miles away.

* * *

"How close--;do you--;have to--;get?" Tai asked in between puffs of breath as they crossed a high point where two sheets of ice had buckled together.

"A quarter mile at maximum. I'd like to get closer than that," Vaughn replied. They were at least three-quarters of a mile behind the Koreans, and his best estimate was that it was going to be close, very close.

There was also the additional problem of whether the ship, which lay ahead, had weapons on board. If it did, Vaughn had to assume that once he fired on the party pulling the sled, the ship would return fire. He didn't fancy the idea of being caught out on this ice in a running gun battle. That had only one foreseeable conclusion, which wasn't favorable for them.

As they went along, he noticed black spots on the ice, about three hundred meters to the left. He dropped and pulled Tai and Burke down with him, out of sight. An ambush? He peered at the figures until he realized what he was looking at: seals, lying on the ice, near a water hole they'd broken in the ice. It was the first sign of animal life they'd seen.

* * *

"There they are!" Fatima exclaimed, pointing off the starboard bow. The captain trained his telescope in that direction. "There are four men, and they are pulling a sled with something on it."

"I want you to get together a party of men to go out there and help them." The captain wasn't thrilled with that idea. His men were civilians, and he didn't want to risk them on the ice. As he turned to his executive officer to reluctantly relay the order, his eyes widened. Seven hundred meters off the port side the ice was erupting, three long black shafts pushing through. The shafts abruptly widened, and a massive black conning tower appeared, tossing the ice aside like child's blocks. It continued to emerge, and the ice behind the tower split to reveal a long black deck that sloped down 150 feet behind the tower. The exposed portion of the vessel was almost as long as the freighter.

"What is that?" Fatima demanded.

"A submarine," the captain replied.

"I know that, you fool," she snapped. "Whose submarine? American?"

"I don't know."

"What should we do?"

The captain turned to look at her. "There is nothing we can do. We wait to see what they"--;he nodded at the black hull--;"do."

* * *

Min and his men halted, staring past the ship at the submarine. He knew in his heart it was all over. Even if they made it to the ship, the Americans would never let them sail away. He wondered how the plan had failed.

"Sir?" Kim turned to look at him for instructions.

Min turned to look back at his executive officer. "We go to the ship. Quickly." Four men strained for the ship in a direct line as quickly as they could go.

* * *

Vaughn had started sprinting as soon as the submarine began to surface, leaving Tai and Burke behind, yelling at them to stay put. He passed four seals around a small circle of open water, and the distance was now down to five hundred meters. Another two hundred and he could fire.

* * *

The present Hawkeye on station was the third one rotated in, as the earlier ones had exhausted their fuel supplies down to what was needed to get back to the Kitty Hawk. The radar operator had picked up the sub as soon as the mast breached the ice. Now he was busy guiding in the two F-14 Tomcats from the Kitty Hawk and the Osprey, matching the glowing green dots representing the planes with those of the ship and submarine.

"Eagle One, this is Eye One. Assume heading eight-seven degrees, range 150 kilometers and closing. You've got a sub on the surface, about seven hundred meters to the east of the ship. Over."

"Roger. Out," the pilot of the lead Tomcat acknowledged in the operator's left ear. In his right ear was the tactical center of the Kitty Hawk, demanding information.

"Eye One, this is Big Boot. Do you have an ID on the submarine yet? Over."

"Negative. Over."

"Eye One, what is Eagle's ETA? Over."

"ETA five minutes. Over."

* * *

Min was pulling at the front end of the rope when he felt the ice crackle beneath him. He halted and looked down in surprise. In his haste, he'd run onto a thinner portion. There was no way it would support the weight of the bomb, twenty feet behind him.

"To the left," he ordered Kim, Sun, and Ho.

As they turned, the thin ice exploded upward, and Min caught a glimpse of a massive black snout rising up into the air. The snout split in two, revealing two rows of glistening white teeth. Min could swear he saw a tiny black eye staring at him as the front half of the creature slammed down onto the ice, half out of the water, and the teeth closed on Kim.

The XO's scream was cut short as the killer whale slid back with its meal into the hole it had just made in the ice. Min pulled out his knife and desperately slashed at the rope around his waist as he was pulled toward the hole. He succeeded inches short of the freezing water. Ho and Sun weren't so fortunate. The men slid in, and Min had a last glimpse of Ho's pleading eyes as the rope that was still attached to Kim and Sun pulled him under the ice to a freezing death. Min slashed down with his knife and cut the rope from the sled, then scrambled away from the thin ice to the far side of the sled and its precious cargo.

* * *

"What happened?" Araki screamed.

"Killer whale," the captain curtly replied, saying a mental prayer for the three men. "That's how they hunt seals." He removed his eye from the telescope and turned to look at the two women. "Men. Seals. Not much difference, is there? What do we do now?"

They all twisted their heads as two gray jets came roaring in low over the ice from the west.

* * *

"Big Boot, this is Eagle One. Over."

"This is Big Boot. Over."

"Roger. We've got a visual on the sub. You've got one Russian Delta-class boomer on ice. Over." There was a pause. "Roger. Maintain station and await further instructions. Break. Viking Two, break from patrol and head for target site, maximum speed. Over."

"This is Viking Two. Roger. Out."

Aboard the E-2 the radar operator exchanged a worried look with the SIGINT operator. The Delta was the largest submarine in the world and carried twelve missile launch systems for multiple warhead ballistic missiles. What was it doing here?

The Viking the tactical operations center had diverted was the Kitty Hawk's primary antisubmarine defense system--;a plane totally dedicated to killing submarines, carrying both torpedoes and depth charges for that purpose.

The operator checked his screen. He estimated another fifty minutes before the Viking arrived. He had a feeling that whatever was being played out below would be over long before the Viking arrived. His eyebrows rose at the next message from the Kitty Hawk. "Eagle One, this is Big Boot. Delta submarine is to be considered friendly. I say again, Delta submarine is to be considered friendly. Out."

* * *

Vaughn came to an abrupt screeching halt after witnessing the killer whale attack. He looked down and saw a dark shape down through the ice. He quickly sidled left to thicker ice, figuring that if he couldn't see the whale, it couldn't see him,

He twisted his head and watched as two planes with U.S. Navy markings flew by once more. About time, he thought. He moved forward slowly, aware that the lone man ahead could kill him as easily as the whales could.

* * *

Min glanced up as American planes flew by. He looked to the ship and beyond it to the submarine. He could not pull the bomb by himself. There was only one thing left to do. He reached inside his parka and pulled out a sheet of paper.

Min bent over the gray carcass of the bomb. He stripped off his gloves and ignored the knife of cold that stabbed into every joint. He flipped the latch open on the control access panel.

* * *

"The submarine is signaling us!" the ship's executive officer exclaimed. The captain swung his telescope around to the port. A light on the conning tower was flashing international Morse code. "Copy!" the captain ordered. Something was going up on one of the tall black masts on the conning tower. The captain focused on that. He watched as it went up halfway, and then the wind caught it. It was the Russian flag.

The captain pulled back from the telescope and turned to his executive officer. "What does the message say?"

The XO ran a tongue over his lips and glanced at the political officer.

"Go ahead!" The captain insisted.

"Sir, it says: L-E-A-V-E-N-O-W."

The captain ran his eyes over the familiar lines of his ship. Slowly, he reached for the speaking tube.

"Engine Room. Port Engine. One quarter, reverse."

"What are you doing?" Fatima demanded, grabbing the captain by his coat.

"I am going home," the captain replied.

"You cannot. I forbid it!"

The captain pointed out the window to the left. "The Russians are there and say leave." He pointed up.

"The Americans are there, and I believe they want us to leave. We have no weapons." He pointed out to the ice. "He is alone out there. We cannot help him." The ship shuddered as the engines engaged for the first time in hours, and the newly formed ice cracked around the hull. "We leave." Fatima looked around, taking in the scene. Then she reluctantly nodded. "We leave."

* * *

Vaughn picked his way along the ice, avoiding the sections where he could see the ocean, at the same time making sure he was out of sight of the Korean. There was no way the man could pull the bomb by himself.

Vaughn's head snapped up as he heard the throb of engines and the crack of ice. The civilian ship was turning very slowly away. He looked farther and saw the flag above the submarine. It didn't make sense, but he didn't care. It was over. He continued forward, going slower, making sure he didn't expose himself to a chance shot from the man trapped on the ice.

* * *

"Big Boot, this is Eagle One. The ship is leaving. Over."

"Roger. Break. Eye One, this is Big Boot. Status of Stinger? Over."

"Fifteen minutes out. Over."

"Roger. Break. Eagle One. Is there anything on the ice? Over."

"Wait one. Over."

* * *

Min winced as a jet screamed overhead again, barely thirty feet above the ice, but he didn't look up. His numbed fingers continued working.

* * *

"Big Boot, this is Eagle One." The naval flight officer in the backseat of the Tomcat glanced down at his video display and flicked controls. The TV automatic target identification system blanked and then showed what the camera had picked up on the previous pass in slow motion.

"Uh, this is Eagle One. We've got four figures on the ice. One with…" The officer peered closer.

"One with our object. It is not on board the ship. I say again, it is not on board the ship. Over."

"Roger, Eagle One. Go to altitude and maintain position. Stinger will take care of this when they arrive. Over."

"Roger. Out."

* * *

Vaughn did a quick peek over a block of ice, then stopped and took a slower look. The Korean was leaning over the bomb, a hundred meters away, and his arms were moving.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, then stood up and began running.

CHAPTER 16

Ruppert Coast, Antarctica

With shaking fingers Min punched in the six-digit code, one by one. He cursed as his numbed fingertip slipped on the fifth digit and struck the wrong number on the numeric pad inside the access panel. The LED screen cleared, and Min took a deep breath. Once more he began.

* * *

Vaughn was less than fifty meters away. He threw the M-1 to his shoulder and stared down the iron sights. The head of the Korean wavered in them. Vaughn drew in a frigid breath and held it. The sights steadied and he pulled the trigger. The comforting recoil of the weapon was erased as the round made impact with the ice that had jammed into the barrel when Tai used it to break her fall. He felt the pain in his hands as the breach exploded.

Vaughn realized his error in a heartbeat as the Korean lifted his head at the sound of the small explosion and stared at him, their eyes locking over the bomb.

* * *

Where had he come from? Min wondered as he swung up his AK-47, pressing the metal folding stock into his shoulder. His eye never left the other man's as he lined up the front sight post with rear and pulled the trigger back.

The rounds roared out and streamed across the fifty meters, slamming into the man and throwing him out of sight down to the ice. Min put the weapon down and checked the piece of paper again. What number had he been on? His fatigued mind struggled to understand.

* * *

Vaughn's breath came in deep, painful gasps. His right side was on fire and he could feel the blood seeping into his layers of clothing. He knew he had to move. He put every ounce of energy into his legs. Nothing. He tried to scream, but a gasp was all he managed. He had to stop the Korean, or else the Russian sub would be destroyed and he would die.

* * *

Min tried to concentrate on the LED screen. Yes, he was up to the fourth. He held his finger over the numbered keys. He had no feeling in the hand anymore, so he guided it down by site. When the dead finger rested on the proper number, he pushed.

The fifth now. Min looked at the number on the code sheet. He matched it with the keyboard. His right hand would no longer hold steady. Min took his left hand and placed it over the right forearm, steadying it. He pushed down and glanced up at the LED screen. The ENTER sign was still flashing on the top. Yes, the five were correct.

Min checked the sixth number. He forced his finger over and down. He hesitated as he thought of his family, so far away in Korea. Min sighed and pressed on. An inch away from the keyboard, stars exploded on the right side of Min's head. He rolled away from the bomb onto the ice and looked up, trying to see his attacker.

A figure loomed above. Min put his arms up to block the blow that came down on him. He felt his left forearm shatter as steel hit bone. The pain brought it all into focus. He was desperately reaching for his AK-47 on its sling along his right side as he stared into the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. A woman!

She swung the shovel again and he rolled away from the next blow. But he moved too far, and gravity took control as he began to slide.

* * *

Tai collapsed to her knees, dropping the bloody entrenching tool as the Korean fell into the hole in the ice. She started to stand when the man suddenly surged out of the water and grabbed her left forearm with his right hand.

The Korean pulled her down to the edge of the hole. He looked up at her, his dark eyes boring in. Tai felt herself drawn in by them as she bent over, her face lowering toward the almost frozen water. The entrenching tool whirred by the side of her face and smashed into the Korean's head. His grip loosened on her arm and he slipped beneath the surface. Tai collapsed to the ice then, and Burke slid down beside her, dropping the e-tool.

Tai struggled to her feet. There was no sign of the Korean. The bomb sat alone on the ice near them. Tai walked over to it. The cover on the control panel was off.

"Oh crap," she muttered. "Vaughn!"

* * *

Vaughn managed to crawl almost ten feet, leaving a trail of red on the ice before he could go no farther. A coldly logical part of his mind knew he was going into shock from the combination of loss of blood and the cold, but that didn't bother him much. It would only be moments before the Korean finished entering the code and the bomb went off, so oblivion wasn't far off either way.

As he retreated into the numbness, a persistent voice intruded. With great difficulty, he cracked his eyes and peered up. A stinging blow across his cheek barely elicited feeling from his frozen skin.

"Wake up, goddamnit!"

Vaughn found a scrap of energy and focused. "What?" he muttered.

"The Korean was messing with the bomb. We stopped him, but I need to know if he finished arming it." As Tai grabbed his arms, the pain brought Vaughn fully alert. He tried to help her and Burke drag him across the ice with little pushing movements of his feet.

* * *

"I can't land on the ice," the pilot said for the third time. "This aircraft needs fifty-six inches of solid ice to support it, and you can't tell that by looking out the window." The Osprey's engines were in the helicopter position, and they were cruising at forty knots above the ice.

Bellamy accepted the inevitable. "All right. Then give me a hover and we'll fast-rope out."

"Okay."

Bellamy turned to Captain Manchester and signaled. Manchester and an NCO began rigging the fast rope to bolts in the ceiling of the Osprey, while Bellamy looked out over the pilot's shoulder. He could see both the submarine and the ship that was slowly making its way out of the ice pack.

"Where's the bomb?" he asked.

The pilot did a gentle bank right. "There," he called out.

The sled was a long black spot on the ice. Bellamy noted the three figures, two dragging one, less than twenty feet away. He ran back to the rear of the plane as his team lined up on the rope.

"There're three people on the ice near the bomb. They make a move for it, take them out." The first man nodded and slipped the selector switch on his MP-5 sub off safe. The plane came to a halt, and Manchester threw the door open, heaving the fast rope out.

* * *

Tai and Burke propped Vaughn up so he could look at the LED screen. He scanned it for ten long seconds and then shook his head. "He entered five of the six numbers on the PAL code. You stopped him before he could enter the last one."

They looked up as the Osprey came to a hover overhead and a thick rope uncoiled out the door. Vaughn watched the first man emerge with the MP-5 over his shoulder, quickly followed by a line of men, slithering down to the ice less than thirty feet away.

"Get me away from the bomb," he said to Tai. "Now!" She grabbed his jacket and pulled him back onto the ice, the bomb between them and the men, just as bullets cracked by overhead.

"Cease fire!" someone was yelling. "We don't want to hit the bomb. Alpha team, fan right. Bravo, cover."

"I think we'd better surrender," Vaughn suggested. "Just keep your hands far away from your sides and start yelling in English."

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Tai and Burke called out as four men rushed up, weapons at the ready.

"Freeze! You on the ground--;hands away from your sides."

"He's wounded," Tai informed them.

"Step away." she was ordered. One of the man carefully rolled Vaughn over as another kept a weapon on him. "Shit," the man muttered as Vaughn's blood-encrusted jacket came into view.

"Berkman, get over here. We've got some work for you."

As the medic went to work on the wounded man, Major Bellamy checked the bomb. His heart gave a jump when he noted that five of the six numbers for the PAL code were entered. They'd made it just in time. He didn't understand what had happened and who these three people were. His job was to secure everything. It would be up to the powers-that-be to determine what to do about the prisoners. He ordered Manchester to find a spot with sufficient ice depth to land the Osprey. As soon as the aircraft settled down, he loaded the bomb, the prisoners, and his men on board. They lifted, heading back for the Kitty Hawk.

As soon as they took off, the Russian submarine slowly sank under the surface and disappeared. There was nothing left except Vaughn's blood and the rapidly retreating freighter.

CHAPTER 17

Area 51, Nevada