Deep Ice (16 page)

Six

Captain Halsey seemed very interested in anything Henry had to say. Much of the conversation was about Henry’s experience in Antarctica, covering subjects ranging from penguins to aurora. Inevitably, he found himself reliving his encounter with the
faux
-Norwegians. Eventually he excused himself and begged for a different subject.

“I know you’re curious about it, Captain, but I’ve been over this a hundred times at least, and it’s real y painful for me.”

“Getting shot can be like that,” observed Grimes.

Henry smiled slightly, then his face fell again. “It’s not that, so much. I just miss Sadie, my lead dog. Every time I think of them shooting her. . . I mean, what was the point?”

The captain seemed sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Henry.

I’m a dog lover too.”

Grimes was looking away in obvious disdain.

Henry noticed. “I guess the commander is a cat person. Right, Kai?”

“Just a lover,” said Grimes, giving Sarah a lascivious look. But he didn’t succeed in rattling her this time. It was obvious that he liked to get a rise out of people.

Henry couldn’t help laughing. He was beginning to understand the way Grimes thought, and to appreciate the man. If anyone was well geared to deal with mercenaries and terrorists it would have to be Kai Grimes.

The captain mentioned how much he missed his family in Stone Harbor, New Jersey. “I guess I miss Billy, my collie, as much as the rest of my family.”

Grimes stifled a snicker.

“Have there been any developments back in the world?” asked Henry. “I feel really cut off here – not to mention bored to death.”

“Actual y, the Pentagon seems to be narrowing their search to Chile. Seems the commander’s hunch was a good one.”

“But we still don’t know shit,” said Grimes. “And nobody seems sure what our next move should be.”

“I’ll bet you have some thoughts on that, Commander,” suggested Sarah.

Grimes shifted uneasily in his folding chair. “Not real y,” he said. “The next move is up to Suarez.”

“So you’re convinced he’s the perp?” asked Henry.

“Pretty much, but it’s just my hunch. We don’t have any hard evidence I can point to.”

The table grew quiet as everyone devoted their attention to their food, thinking things over.

Finally the captain looked at Henry and Sarah in turn.

“You know, there’s no reason you two have to stay cooped up on this ship. If you’d like to see something of the country, I could arrange for you to go to Santiago.”

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “You could?”

“What about customs and all that?” asked Henry.

“Are you sure it would be okay?”

The captain nodded. “No difficulty. It’s been explained to the Chilean Government why we’re here, and they’re being very receptive. As a matter of fact, I have an appointment with President Frei in the parliament building there tomorrow. I could arrange for a limousine and driver to take you to Santiago. We’d even put you up in a hotel.”

“Thank you, Captain,” said Henry. “We’d love to go.

Can I bring my dog?”

This time Grimes failed to stifle his snicker.

The captain squinted. “I guess so. Sure. Why not?”

#

Henry felt a little seasick by the time the launch reached the Navy Yard in Valparaiso. A large group of Chilean brass was gathered at the dock waiting for their arrival.

There was a lot of saluting and posturing, which concluded in their being escorted towards two black limousines surrounded by armed guards.

The door of one limo opened and a portly gentleman in a tan suit stepped out. “Welcome, Captain, to our city,” he called with a wave.

“President Frei,” said Halsey, “Admiral Schumacher insisted I give you his sincere apologies. He has to stay behind on the
Enterprise
trying to deal with our. . . problem.”

The President smiled broadly. “It is no problem, Captain. I am most honoured to make your acquaintance.”

The captain spoke for a while with Frei while the military moved around them, watching for enemies. Henry had the impression of soldier ants scouting around a disturbed nest.

Their activity made Sarah very nervous. “I hope they don’t shoot us before we get on our way,” she whispered.

Shep pulled at his leash, intrigued by the smells around him. Henry had to struggle to keep him at his side. “Sheesh,” he said softly, “get a grip, you two.”

The captain begged off the tour for himself, but suggested Sarah and Henry take full advantage of the offer.

Henry was sweating. He wiped his brow and told Sarah that the place reminded him of Southern California.

“It sure looks like it,” she agreed. “But it’s not
that
warm. Must be only in the high seventies.”

“Maybe. But Shep and I are used to it a little cooler than that,” he said. “I hope the limo is air-conditioned.”

Not long after that they were driving off the coarse gravel of the dock onto the highway paralleling the harbour. The President’s limousine went off in the opposite direction, and the motorcade of motorcycles and military cars went with it. Sarah, Henry and Shep were the only passengers in their limo.

“Finally we’re out of that brass-and-buckle bul shit,” said Henry with a sigh.

The limousine was exceptional y warm and Shep began to pant. Henry leaned forward to rol down the window but couldn’t find the mechanism.

He rapped on the glass separating the driver from the passenger’s section.

A voice came over an intercom. “Si, Sir Henry. I am your driver, Enrique. You haff a question?”

Henry saw the driver looking at him in the rearview mirror. He smiled. “He’s a sled dog – not used to the heat. Could you turn on the air conditioning?”

Without hesitation the driver reached for the dash and a rush of cool air flooded the limo.

“It is a
frio
. . . cooler day, Sir Henry. Most days go much hotter.”

“Thanks, Enrique,” said Henry. “How do you know my name?”

“Oh, Sir Henry,” said the driver with a laugh, “you are a friend of the captain from the
Enterprise
, yes? A good friend of the Presidente. I haff received order to escort you to Santiago and make damn sure you are happy and protected.”

“ ‘Protected’?” asked Sarah.

“Si,” said Enrique, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a large chrome-plated pistol. “Someone hurting you will be killed. I am most fully trained with security forces.”

“That’s most reassuring, Enrique,” said Henry, “but I think you can relax. We’re just here to sightsee.”

“Yes.
Turistas
.”

The limousine moved slowly through narrow streets, lined on both sides by sand-coloured or white wall s broken by cascades of steps that led to the homes that lined the cliff above. After another turn they had to slow down as they moved through a large open-air market that stretched along a modern pier. Children began to run alongside the limo, peering in through the tinted windows for a glimpse of its occupants. Henry heard one of the urchins shouting, “Presidente.” The driver rolled down his window and yelled at them, waving his pistol.

Sarah scowled. “Is that really necessary, driver?”

Enrique glanced in the mirror at her and wordlessly pulled his arm inside the car as they came to a busy intersection and stopped.

A policeman standing in the middle of the street directed them forward while stopping all other traffic with his outstretched arms. His whistle could be heard clearly inside the closed car. Horns honked at him as he waved the limo through the intersection. Soon they were moving again down a narrow street.

The driver chuckled loudly. “They are all thinking you are the Presidente,” he said.

Suddenly Henry’s face dropped. “Shit! I just realized. I don’t have any cash.”

“I’ve got travellers’ cheques,” Sarah assured him.

Henry shook his head. “Enrique, is there a bank near the hotel?”

“No need, Sir Henry,” replied the driver, flashing a broad grin. “The hotel can accommodate you.”

Enrique was beginning to scare Sarah. He seemed unable to speak to them without eye contact. The limo moved quickly down narrow streets full of people, and the driver never once seemed to let up on the gas when he looked in the mirror or even turned to gaze back at them.

Finally she could stand it no longer. “Please, Enrique, could you not look at us and drive? You’re scaring the. . . You’re making me nervous.”

Enrique apologized as he pulled the limousine to a stop.

#

Belowdecks on the
Enterprise
, in a small conference room, Kai Grimes met with his men. All eight of his SEALs sat at a table spread with documents, photos and maps. A.J. Jones, the Louisiana fisherman and munitions expert, was studying satellite photos of the Andes with stereoscopic glasses.

“If it was me,” he said in a slow drawl, “I’d put the transmitter up north where the mountains are highest. Up towards La Paz.”

Dan Hoy, the gunner, sitting next to him, shook his head. “That’s too far away. The signal wouldn’t get through. No fuckin’ way.”

Rob Walters, the pilot who’d made the quick getaway from the bomb site with General Hayes and Henry Gibbs, sat next to Tom Jabiel. Both of them were looking at maps of the Andes and pages of data. Opposite them, Grimes sat between Stanley O’Doule and Ricky Peete. Peete was perusing a fuel manifest as he made notes on a tablet. O’Doule was quiet, lost in thought.

Merle Fawsett sat at one end of the table, his tall frame bent forward to see the photos the other men were examining, while at the other end Wake Michaels, small, dark and wiry, smoked a cigarette and listened without comment.

“Gimme one of those smokes, Snake,” demanded O’Doule. “I’m out.”

“Don’t call me that. And buy your own, you cheap bastard,” snapped Michaels.

Grimes watched the two men squabble for a while, then raised his hand. “Mission,” he said in a strained voice.

He and his “dogs” had been through a lot together: Bosnia, Sri Lanka, Libya, Namibia. He knew when to let the men bitch and when to stop it. They’d long ago agreed on a code word that meant to shut up and get down to business. “Mission.”

Grimes was brimming with frustration, racking his brains to come up with some kind of action that might be of benefit to his country and the world. He knew the seconds were counting down to the October 1 deadline when the terrorists promised to detonate the second nuclear device if their demands weren’t met. So with each passing moment of inaction he was feeling more and more impotent.

“It’s our job to cap the fucks that did this shit, guys,” he said. “I need ideas.”

“I just want a friggin’ cigarette,” said O’Doule. “Is that so much to ask? I’m goin’ nuts like you, K.G.”

“Sometimes you have to wait,” replied Grimes after drawing a deep breath.

Hoy looked up from the stereoscopic aerial photos and took off his glasses. He picked up a sheet of data and studied it as he spoke.

“I’m looking at a list of high-climbing expeditions covering at least six months. Nobody’s been up to the top of any Andean peak, from La Paz to Tierra Del Fuego. If you go back a year, you have only three, and none of them involved anyone with any connections to the resources necessary to pul this off.”

“Point?” said Grimes.

“Well, my point is maybe we’re shitting ourselves,” was the terse response.

“That covers South America,” said Fawsett. “What about New Zealand?”

“No,” said Grimes. “The Pentagon’s already been over that area with a sieve.”

The pilots, Jabiel and Walters, had been working together for the duration of the meeting. They had been so quiet and involved for the last half-hour that the rest of the men had nearly forgotten them.

Suddenly Walters lifted his sturdy frame from his seat and looked at Grimes. Everyone seemed surprised, and watched him expectantly.

“Tom and I think we can get us up to twenty thousand feet if we can move a fuel depot to within thirty, maybe fifty, miles of our target.”

Grimes smiled faintly. “That’s something,” he said.

“But we’d have to prove it.”

Walters hung his head. “I guess you mean that it isn’t gonna happen. Right?”

“Too soon to say, Rob. Thanks.”

Wake Michaels threw an unfiltered cigarette to O’Doule. “Now you owe me one, you bastard.”

“Haven’t I always paid you back, Snake?” replied O’Doule as he lit up.

“But you never gave me the blowjob you promised me in Namibia,” whined Michaels. “Pucker up.”

#

As the limousine snaked slowly up the winding road that climbed the hills, Henry looked back at Valparaiso.

“You know what this place reminds me of?” He pointed at the ridge looming over the port.

“What?” said Sarah.

“A beach. A large-scale beach like in New England, or along the New Jersey coast.”

Sarah looked to the west. A redness was beginning to fill the limousine; the light of the setting sun reflected off the hills that overlooked the port, and the Andes glowed like an uneven red wall in the distance. Henry noticed how the light made Sarah’s face shine. He thought she was the loveliest woman he’d ever known.

“A beach?” she said. “I don’t see the resemblance at all.”

Her words pulled him back out of his reverie. “Oh, yes, if you think of it the right way, only on a grander scale. The water line is the harbour, and above that a slight ridge – only here it’s much huger. What – sixteen hundred feet? That’s like the ridge of sand and flotsam that usual y forms at the high-water line, a few dozen feet from the waves. Following that analogy, the Andes are like the tall dunes. I guess my point is that all this looks like it was formed by big waves.”

“I see what you mean,” answered Sarah. “They’d have to be
really
big waves, though.”

“There are legends in this part of the world of people on the other side of the Andes looking at the mountains and seeing waves breaking over the peaks,” Henry said soberly. “Of course, they’re only legends.”

“
Really
big waves,” repeated Sarah with a shiver.

#

With the deadline for the payment of four billion US dollars approaching, and not another word of instructions since the email, the Secretary General of the United Nations had become a regular caller to the White House. President Kerry had been getting only a few hours of sleep each night – the same went for most members of the Joint Chiefs, and for Admiral Schumacher.