Текст книги "Fire Ice"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

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"He says the men are gone. He saw them leave in a boat."

The group parted to reveal Orlov lying on the ground, his face covered with blood. Gamay was on her knees in an instant, put her ear close to the professor's mouth and felt for a pulse in his neck. Then she examined his arms and legs.

"Can we get him somewhere where he'll be more comfortable?" she asked.

The professor was lifted onto the picnic table and covered with the tablecloth. At Gamay's request, a pot of warm water and towels were produced. She gently sponged the blood away from the professor's face and balding scalp.

"The bleeding seems to have stopped," she said. "It's coming from the head, so it's worse than it looks. He's also bleeding from the mouth, but I don't think it's internal."

Paul's jaw hardened at the plight of his old colleague. "Someone used him for a punching bag."

The professor stirred and mumbled some words in Russian. Yuri leaned close for a second, then grinned. "He says he needs a glass of vodka."

Glowing embers were coming down on them from the fire and the smoke made it hard to breathe, so Paul suggested that they move the professor to a more sheltered location. Trout and three other men carried him to the cottage farthest from the fire. They laid him out on a bed, covered his body with blankets and brought him a glass of vodka.

"Sorry this isn't champagne," Gamay said, offering him a sip as she tilted his head up.

The vodka dribbled down his chin, but he swallowed enough of the potent liquor to bring color back to his cheeks. Paul dragged a chair over. "Do you feel like talking?"

"Keep the vodka coming and I'll talk all night long," Orlov said. "How's my cottage?"

"The fire brigade couldn't save it, but they kept the fIre from spreading," Yuri said.

A satisfied smile crossed the professor's swollen lips. "One of the first things I organized here was a fire company. We draw water directly from the sea."

"Please tell us what happened," Gamay said, as she dabbed the professor's forehead with a damp washcloth.

"We were sleeping," he said, talking slowly. "Some men came into the cottage. We never lock the doors out here. They wanted to know where the people in the boat were. I didn't know what they were talking about at first, then I realized they wanted you. So naturally I said I didn't know. They beat me until I was unconscious."

"I ran off to warn the Trouts," Yuri said. "I didn't want to leave you. They came looking for us. We hid in the woods until they were gone."

Orlov reached out and put his hand on Yuri's shoulder. "You did the right thing."

He motioned for more vodka. The drink seemed to clear his mind, and the scientific analysis of cause and effect came into play.

Looking Paul directly in the eye, he said, "Well, my friend, it seems you and Gamay made some interesting friends in the short time you have been here. On your little sightseeing trip, perhaps?"

"I'm truly sorry. I'm afraid we're responsible for this mess," Paul said. "It was entirely unanticipated. We made your son a partner in crime, too."

Paul told Orlov that NUMA was investigating Ataman and related the events surrounding their boat trip.

"Ataman?" Orlov said. "In a way, I can't say I'm surprised at their violent reaction. Huge cartels tend to act as if they are above the law."

Gamay said, "There was a strange man on the yacht. He had a thin face, long black hair and a beard. Was that Razov?"

"It doesn't sound like him. Probably his friend, the mad monk."

"Pardon me?"

"His name is Boris. I don't even know if he has a last name. He is said to be Razov's eminence grise, his mentor. Few people have seen him. You're very lucky."

"I don't know if I'd call it lucky," Gamay said. "I'm sure he saw us, too."

"He's probably the one who called out the hounds," Paul said.

Orlov groaned. "That's where we are in Russia today. Thugs advised by mad monks. I can't believe Razov has become such a powerful political figure in our country."

"I was wondering," Paul said. "How did they know where to find us? I'm pretty sure Yuri lost them."

"Maybe the bigger question is what they intended to do after they found us." Gamay turned to the professor and his son. "We're profoundly sorry for what happened. Please tell us how we can make it up to you."

"Perhaps a little help in rebuilding my cottage," Orlov said, after some thought.

"That goes without saying," Paul said.

"Anything else?" Orlov furrowed his brow. "One more thing," he said, his face lighting up. "As you know, Yuri is intent on visiting the United States."

"Consider it done, with the condition that you come along."

The professor could barely control his pleasure, "You drive a hard bargain, my friend."

"I'm a tough old Yankee, and don't you forget it I think we should be on our way the first thing in the morning."

"I'm sorry you have to leave so soon. Are you sure?"

"It might be best for everyone if we go."

They talked until the professor's weariness caught up with him and he drifted off to sleep. The Trouts and Yuri split the rest of the night into shifts, so at least one person would stand watch while the others caught some sleep in the bunk beds. The morning dawned without incident, and after a quick breakfast of coffee and rolls, the Trouts said their good-byes, vowing to get together in a few months, and squeezed into the same taxi that had dropped them off.

As the Lada bumped down the road, Gamay looked out the back window at the charred remains of the cottage. Smoke still hung in the air. "We'll have a lot to tell Kurt when we get back," she said.

Paul's eyes blinked with amusement. "If I know Kurt, he'll have even more to tell us."

17

THE MAN AUSTIN knew only as Ivan gazed around in wonder at the shrine to the Romanovs. Austin had just given him a demonstration of the chanting chair. "This is really quite extraordinary," he said, letting his eyes wander around the room. "You have made quite a find."

Austin responded with a lopsided grin. "Then all is forgiven for corning in with six-guns blazing?"

"On the contrary. It's exactly what I wanted to happen."

"You're a strange man, Ivan," Austin said, with a shake of his head.

"That may be, but in this case my actions were purely logical." He spread his forefinger and thumb apart. "Don't forget that I have a dossier this thick on you, as well as my personal experience with your methods. I knew warning you off would be the surest way to bring you here."

"Why be so Machiavellian? Why not simply invite me to your party? I'm an agreeable guy."

"You're not naive in these matters. If I had said back in Istanbul that I needed your help, what would you have replied, given the stormy history of our relationship?"

"I don't know," Austin said with a shrug.

"I do. You might have regarded it as a trap, an ingenious way of getting back at you for this souvenir of past encounters." He touched the scar on his cheek.

"The Russians are famous for their chess skills. And you must admit revenge can be a potent motivator."

"I've learned to control my passions and exploit those of others to defeat them. There's another reason I held back. I suspect that if I had asked for your help, you would have gone to your higher-ups. Your government would have discouraged this mission."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Some of your countrymen are supporting the dark forces gathering in Russia."

Austin raised an eyebrow. "Anyone I know?"

"Probably, but I doubt if you'd believe me, so I'll keep my thoughts to myself for now."

"How can you be sure that I didn't act with official permission?"

"I consider it highly unlikely that your government would tolerate a clandestine invasion of a foreign country."

"Last time I looked, NUMA was part of the government."

"You're not the only one I have kept tabs on, Mr. Austin. I have files on everyone of any consequence in NUMA, from your partner Joe Zavala right up to Admiral Sandecker. We both know that the good admiral would never allow a rogue operation." The Russian smiled. "Unless it was under his control, of course."

"Sounds as if you've done your homework," Austin admitted.

"Knowing the inner workings of NUMA was vital in order to make your agency a part of the equation."

"I don't understand. Why involve NUMA?"

"The intelligence services in both our countries have been infiltrated by the enemy. Those fighting men you saw today have all served with me for years. But even a tightly knit force can be compromised by a single person. NUMA's integrity is above reproach. On a more practical side, I need NUMA's global capacity for communications and transport, your incredible intelligence and research facilities."

"Thanks for the endorsement, but I don't know if I can help. I'm only one person out of thousands at the agency."

"Please don't be disingenuous, Mr. Austin. You could never have undertaken this mission if it were not for the tacit approval of Admiral Sandecker and Rudi Gunn."

Austin was impressed with Ivan's knowledge of how things worked at NUMA. "Even if I admitted you were right on that score, I still don't have the power to give you everything you want."

"When the threat to your country becomes apparent, you'll feel different. We need each other."

"That's another problem. You still haven't told me what this threat is."

"Only because I don't know."

"Yet you're still convinced it's real."

"Oh yes, Mr. Austin. Knowing the players in this drama, I'd say it's very real."

Austin still didn't know how much to believe Ivan, but there was no mistaking the Russian's seriousness. "Maybe one of the Cossacks could tell us something."

Petrov's lips tightened in a smile. "We both should have thought about that earlier. Their leader was the big man with the red beard. Dead men tell no tales, unfortunately."

"Sorry, but it couldn't be helped under the circumstances. I'm curious. How long were you and your boys hiding in the woods?"

"Since dawn. We landed a few miles up the coast and made our way overland at night. I saw the fishing boat arrive and suspected you were on it. We didn't know you had landed and were quite surprised to see you pop up out of nowhere. Congratulations on a successful infiltration."

Austin ignored the compliment. "Then you saw that the submarine crew was in trouble?"

"We observed the men being rounded up and marched to the field. To answer your unspoken question, yes, we would have intervened. My men were readying for the attack. Then you and your friend arrived and our intervention hardly seemed necessary. From the damage you inflicted, I thought a platoon of U.S. Marines had landed. It's doubtful how much the Cossacks could have told us. They are nothing more than bandit scum whose sole function was to guard this complex." Petrov walked over to the altar and touched the photograph above it. "The last of the tsars," he said.

"That's quite a headpiece," Austin said, pointing to the jeweled crown in the picture.

"Whoever wears the crown of Ivan the Terrible will rule Russia," Petrov said. Seeing Austin's perplexed expression, he smiled. "An old Russian proverb. Don't look for hidden auguries in the words; they mean what they say. Whoever is strong enough to keep all that weight on his head, and brutish and terrible enough to possess the crown, will find those same qualities of use in ruling this land."

"Where's the crown now?"

"It disappeared with a great deal of the tsar's other treasure that went missing after the revolution. When the White government came into Yekaterinburg, where the tsar was probably murdered, they found a list of items belonging to the imperial family. Some items were recovered, but it is generally conceded that the list represented only a portion of the items the family had with them in exile. The most valuable items, the crown included, have never been found."

"Was there a list of the missing treasure?"

"The Soviets made such a list, but it has never turned up. It's assumed that the KGB had the list before the overthrow of communism. I've made inquiries that lead me to believe the list is still in existence, but its whereabouts is a mystery."

"How did you know about the crown without the list?"

"I've seen this and other photos of it. It's made in two parts, representing the east and west empires. The double-headed eagle was the crest of the Romanovs. The orb the eagle surmounts is a symbol of earthly power."

"It must be worth a fortune."

"The crown's value can't be measured in dollars or rubles. This crown and the other treasure came from the sweat and toil of the Russian serfs, who saw the tsar as god-like. The tsar was the richest man in the world. He had revenue from the crown lands, a million square miles, including gold and silver mines, and owned incredible riches. Our sovereigns had an almost barbaric taste for the glitter of gold and gems. Tsar is Russian for 'Caesar.' Emirs and shahs laid gifts of incredible value at his feet."

"The family in the photo doesn't look as if it's enjoying all that wealth."

"They knew the crown was more of a curse than a blessing. It was reserved for the frail head of the young boy, Alexander, although it's doubtful he would have lived long enough to take his father's place. He had hemophilia, un– controllable bleeding, you know? A real problem among European royalty – all those intermarriages. Anyway, other relatives would have stepped in to claim the throne."

"Any idea who built this shrine?"

"I thought it might be Razov at first. I could see him sitting here, imagining that he will someday become the ruler of Russia. But the decadent trappings of the apartment in the main complex puzzle me. Razov is almost ascetic in his convictions. The monk, on the other hand, is said to be debauched. It's odd how much he resembles Rasputin in his depraved lifestyle. My guess is that Boris spent more time here than Razov. Razov would like to bring back the past. In his madness, Boris lives it."

"That's quite a role reversal."

"Perhaps, but one thing is certain: They both must be stopped," Petrov said, his eyes boring into Austin's. "And you must help me."

Austin was still skeptical. "I'll think about it, Ivan. Right now I need some fresh air."

Petrov gripped Austin by the arm. "Maybe your own countryman can persuade you. You remember the words of the great American patriot-philosopher Thomas Paine. He said he was not defending a few acres of ground, but a cause."

Austin knew the dossier Petrov had on him would have mentioned the volumes of philosophy that lined his bookshelves.

"What is your cause, Ivan?"

"Perhaps it's the same as yours."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I can't see you waving the flag for motherhood, apple pie and the American way."

"I did my share of waving the hammer and sickle as a Young Pioneer marching in the May Day parades. There are deeper issues here. Don't let our past get in the way. Judge me by the present, so that both our countries will have a future."

Austin saw a slight softening in Petrov's rock-hard eyes. Maybe the man was human after all. "Guess we're stuck with each other, whether we like it or not."

"Then you'll work with me?"

"I can't speak for NUMA, but I'll do what I can," Austin said, extending his hand. "C'mon, partner, I've got something else that will interest you." He led the way down through the labyrinth to the submarine pen. Petrov recognized the sub immediately.

"It's an India class," he said. "It was designed to carry submersibles for use by special-operations forces."

"Any idea how it got here?"

"There's a booming market in the world for Soviet armaments."

"This isn't exactly a box of AK-47s."

"My country has always done things on a grand scale. For the right price, you could probably buy a battleship. As you know, the Soviet Union launched dozens of huge subs during the Cold War. Many have been mothballed or other– wise decommissioned. But given the sad state of our armed forces, anything is possible. This could be an important lead. I can't imagine anyone making a purchase this big without somebody knowing about it. I'll run a discreet check. Tell me about these men from your NR-1 submarine. What did they have to say?"

"I talked to one of them. The sub was hijacked by someone posing as a scientist, transported on the back of that submarine and made to work salvaging cargo from an old freighter. The fact that they're still holding the captain and pilot indicates that they have more work planned for the NR-l." Austin rapped the stone floor with his heel. "Maybe you can look into the ownership of this place."

"I already have. The property is still owned by the Russian government. About two years ago, it was leased to a private corporation. They said they wanted to establish a fish-processing plant here."

"From what I've seen, the leaseholder was more interested in what was under the ground than on top of it. Any leads on the corporation?"

"Yes. We got a break there. It was a straw for Ataman."

Austin nodded. "Why does that not surprise me? I should get back above. Joe will wonder what happened to us."

They followed the network of corridors and stairs that took them back to the surface. It was a relief to break out into the sunshine and fresh air. To Austin's surprise, the soccer field was clear of carnage.

Petrov sensed the question on Austin's lips. "Before we went below, I ordered my men to drag the dead into the woods and bury them."

"That was considerate of you."

"There was nothing considerate about it. I wanted nothing left that could be seen from the air." They walked across the field toward the downed helicopter. "I've taken care of the dead," he said, glancing toward the helicopter. "I will leave it up to you to deal with the living."

IT WAS A wonder that the chopper had been able to land as softly as it had. The Cossacks had shot high, and the upper cockpit and engine housing were riddled with bullet holes. Kaela sat on the ground nearby with her legs crossed, writing in a shorthand notebook. Austin put on his most winning smile. Kaela felt his shadow and looked up.

"Small world," he said, with his best show of tooth enamel.

Kaela skewered Austin with a hard stare. Undaunted, Austin plunked onto the ground beside her. "Nice of you to go to all this trouble just so we'd have the opportunity to reschedule our dinner date."

"You're the one who didn't show up back there in Istanbul."

"True. Which is why I'm glad I have the chance to apologize and see if can make it up to you over cocktails."

She raised an eyebrow. "Apologize for standing me up or for stealing Captain Kemal?"

Kaela was no pushover for the Austin charm offensive. This was going to be more complicated than he thought.

"Okay. Let's deal with this in tiny steps. First, I apologize for missing the dinner date. I was unexpectedly tied up and couldn't make it. As for Captain Kemal, you'll have to admit you made a mistake by not holding him with some sort of retainer while you went off to Paris."

"Please spare me the lecture. I never thought you would steal him after you warned me to stay away from this place because it was too dangerous and an infringement of Russian territory."

"You'll have to admit I was right about the danger," he said, glancing at the wreckage of the helicopter.

Kaela took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I'll grant you the obvious. But I'll bet nobody gave you or your NUMA friend an invitation to drop by for tea."

"That's correct, but it doesn't make it right."

"You sound like my mother," she said with mock disgust. "Your apology for missing dinner is accepted. Luckily, my producers bankrolled enough money to lease a helicopter, so I wouldn't have hired Captain Kemal anyhow. You still owe me, though."

Austin noticed the twinkle in the amber eyes and realized she had been setting him up, using his guilt as leverage.

"You're playing me like a fish, aren't you?"

Kaela threw her head back and laughed. "I'm certainly trying to. You deserve to be jerked around after trying to put me off with that phony shark smile and the 'small world' routine. Real smooth character! Next thing you'd be asking me what my astrological sign was. Well, it's Capricorn, in case you're interested."

"I didn't mean to make it sound like a singles bar. My sign is Pisces, by the way."

"Pisces? That's fitting for a NUMA guy." She put her notebook aside. "I'd advise you to stay out of singles bars. With that corny line, you'd go home alone every night."

Austin decided he really liked this woman. She was tough and feminine at the same time, had a sharp sense of humor and plenty of intelligence. And the qualities he admired were gift wrapped in a lovely package.

"Okay, now that I've snapped up the hook, I'll let you reel me in. But only to a point! What does your devious little soul want from me?"

"The truth, for starters. Why are you here, for instance? And who are the tough guys in the black suits? And why are the people around here so damned unfriendly?"

"Is this for a story?"

"Maybe. But I want to know mostly because I want to know. Curiosity is the best tool of a good reporter."

Austin was no fan of mendacity, but he didn't want to involve Kaela and her gang in something that could bite them. They had been lucky twice so far. Their third encounter with the bad guys could be a strikeout.

"You're not the only one who's curious. After my first run-in with those guys on horses, I wanted to know more. I also felt I had to do something for Kemal's cousin Mehmet."

"Is there a submarine base here?"

"Yes. Quite extensive, as a matter of fact."

"I knew it. I want to get inside."

"Okay by me, but you may have problems with that gentleman over there." Ivan was making his way across the field from the woods, where he had been inspecting his men's work.

"Who is he?"

"His name is Ivan. He's the boss man."

"Military?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Kaela grabbed her notebook and sprang to her feet. "I think I will." She strode toward the Russian and intercepted him. Austin watched with interest as she used her body language to send a tantalizing message. She was wading in with a full feminine court press, standing first on one leg, then the other, hip out, touching Ivan lightly on the chest, flashing him her incredible smile.

Ivan stood there with his arms crossed like a granite statue, resisting the full assault. When she was done, he spoke a few words. Kaela's shoulders suddenly squared, she leaned forward and stuck her jaw into his face, then she wheeled and strode purposefully back to Austin.

"What a stubborn little man," she fumed. "He said that the sub base is the property of the Russian government and is off-limits to the public. He suggests that I make arrangements with you to leave here as quickly as possible or suffer the consequences." She grinned. "Well, we can still run the story. I've got film."

She marched over to the helicopter wreckage with a determined step and talked with Lombardo and Dundee, who had been poking around in the wreckage. Their conversation was animated, and grew more so when he showed her the jumble of metal and plastic that was what was left of the video camera. Kaela slowly walked back to Austin.

"It looks as if we'll have to bum a ride with you," she said, without enthusiasm.

Austin saw Joe Zavala making his way toward them from the direction of the beach, where he'd been checking visually and on the radio to see if the NR-1 crew had made it to the fishing boat. He excused himself and took Zavala aside.

Zavala said, “They all made it to Kemal's boat."

"Good news, but we've got a problem. Kaela and her guys need a ride, and I don't want them anywhere near the NR-1 crew."

Zavala cast an admiring glance toward the TV reporter. 'Then you'll be happy to know the Argo was keeping an eye on us and monitoring radio transmissions. I just talked to Captain Atwood. They've sent a boat in to transfer the navy to the survey ship. Kemal's boat is free and clear."

Austin let out a nasty chuckle. "Would you send a message to the Argo and ask them to pick us up, too? Then call Captain Kemal, tell him that we will be transferring to the Argo and ask if he wouldn't mind taking on a few passengers in our place."

"Aye, aye, sir," Zavala said with a snappy salute.

While Joe was calling the fishing boat, Austin went over.to tell Kaela and her friends that first-class transportation had been arranged.