CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The darkness pressed in on him at thirty thousand feet. His skin was clammy with sweat beneath his specially designed flight suit. He kept his head pressed against the wall of the C-130 cargo plane and focused on breathing. He was closed inside a metal can at thirty thousand feet. It wasn’t the fear of falling from the sky that had his balls in his throat. It was the ever-shrinking walls of the plane, the decrease in oxygen as they ascended higher, and the darkness that kept pressing in on him.
His only reprieve was to think of Tess. He’d been selfish to keep her up the hours before they’d left instead of letting her sleep, but he hadn’t been able to get enough of her. He wanted to imprint himself on her memory, on her body, so that if anything happened to him she’d know how much he loved her. They’d made love for hours. And that’s exactly what it had been.
Making love.
They’d only dozed for what seemed like minutes before it was time to get up and dress. Her eyes had been shadowed, and he could see the worry etched in her face, but she gathered her things in silence and nodded in thanks when he handed her an insulated cup of coffee.
Her eyes had grown large and round when they’d showed her the way to the underground tunnel and strapped everything to both of the ATVs, but still there was no talking. As they sped out of the tunnel, he kept his hands tight on the wheel, focusing on the end of it and not imagining the walls caving in on him—being buried alive in the rubble—again.
The chopper had been waiting for them, ready for takeoff, and he’d squeezed her hand in reassurance when she looked at the lake in its stillness—as if she’d never see it again. The ride had been short to the private airstrip where their plane waited. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when they made takeoff.
The jet was equipped with much of the same equipment HQ was, and their focus was on making sure the tanker didn’t change course or that the Russians didn’t try to confuse the satellite for the twelve-hour flight to Nome, Alaska. But the Russians seemed confident in their abilities of concealment, which was their mistake.
He was proud of her. He didn’t think many civilians could handle the kind of pressure she was under at the moment—understanding how high the stakes were and thrown into a situation where she no longer had control. Where her mental and physical capacities would be tested, and her ability to trust would be her saving grace.
They landed on an abandoned stretch of land, nothing more than grass and gravel, just outside of Nome. It was the closest point of origin for traveling to the Bering Sea. Transport was waiting, two identical Humvees, set to take them to their destinations—Dante and Tess to the submarine, and he and the others to prepare for the HALO jump onto the tanker. If everything went according to plan, he’d see her again in another eight hours. He didn’t want to begin to think about not seeing her again.
He kissed her good-bye—long and hard—and he knew he’d drawn looks from the others. He no longer cared if they thought he was just carrying out Eve’s orders. Then he got in the Humvee with the others and focused on the job at hand. He had to. He couldn’t afford to think of her when so much was at stake.
They suited up in the one-piece flight suits specifically designed for HALO jumps, which would protect them from the cold, and beneath they wore neoprene dive suits in case they had to spend time in the water. The footwear and gloves also protected them from the freezing temperatures.
Just after midnight, they loaded up in the C-130 cargo plane. Deacon sat across from Colin and Axel. Elias was to his left. They’d all begun breathing pure oxygen at takeoff, preparing their bodies for the dangerous HALO jump.
It was a cold and bumpy ride at thirty thousand feet, around twenty-five degrees below zero. Deacon let Elias run point on this leg of the journey because he’d been a SEAL and could do these jumps in his sleep. Experience of his kind was invaluable, and Deacon wasn’t so ego-driven as the team leader that he didn’t recognize the value of an asset.
They all carried explosives in the small, tightly strapped packs around their waists, a knife secured in their boots, and a pistol secured to their thighs via a healthy dose of duct tape. It was all they could carry in, and even those items had the chance of ripping free in the high-velocity free-fall.
There were dangers to HALO jumps, but it was the best way to get where they needed to go undetected. And where they needed to go was on that tanker. It was a blind jump, and it was the middle of the night. They wouldn’t have a visual of where they were landing until it was time to deploy the chute. The last thing Deacon wanted was to end up in the water.
He breathed in the pure oxygen and exhaled slowly to get all the nitrogen flushed from his bloodstream. He had to be more careful because his pulse was already elevated from his claustrophobia. If any nitrogen was left in the bloodstream, it could lead to decompression sickness. Not something anyone wanted to deal with when approaching the enemy.
They all wore specially made goggles that could resist the cold from that altitude. Without them, their eyeballs could actually freeze. Deacon just prayed he didn’t pass out on the way down. Many jumpers did, and the chute deployed on its own once they reached the right altitude.
They didn’t speak, but they didn’t have to. They knew the plan. They’d memorized every detail of the tanker from the blueprints. And they had a general idea of how many armed personnel were on board from the aerial satellite images.
Elias held up two fingers, signaling the two-minute mark, and everyone removed the pure oxygen tank and strapped on the regular oxygen mask securely to his face. The cargo hold of the plane slowly opened and the frigid wind whipped around them.
Elias had already gone through the scenarios. They were to stay in formation for a two-minute free-fall before opening their chutes. If all went well, they should go undetected by any radar the tanker might have, and it was unlikely any of the guards would see them as they bulleted from the sky.
Deacon took a couple of deep breaths and waited for the go signal. A red light blinked steadily alongside the cargo hold door, and then it turned green. Off they went, one by one, into the black of night.
The wind pressed against Deacon’s chest with such force that it was hard to draw in a breath, even with the oxygen mask. The cold seeped into his bones and his vision dimmed as the velocity of the free-fall picked up speed. He watched his altimeter carefully and counted the seconds in his head. Two minutes was a long time to fall.
Just as the edges of blackness started to claim him, his altimeter displayed the right altitude and he pulled the ripcord on his parachute. It shot up behind him and he shook his head to clear his vision. The tanker was closing in fast, and he was still traveling at a high rate of speed.
He didn’t focus on the others. That was a good way to end up in the Bering Sea. He looked straight ahead and touched down near the bulkhead. He immediately cut his parachute lines and rolled behind cover, gathering up the black parachute as he did. He reached into his boot and ripped off the tape securing his weapon, shoving it behind the small of his back. He would prefer not to use it unless absolutely necessary. There was no need alerting everyone they were there.
Only one of the eleven men on board mattered, and that was Jorgen Yevorovich. It would be even better if they could get him to talk before they killed him.
Deacon planted his explosives pack at the bulkhead and then darted from cover to cover. He caught sight of a guard dozing against the wall, and he came up behind him, snapping his neck before lowering him quietly to the ground. He caught sight of Axel from the other side of the tanker giving similar treatment to another guard.
Axel held up two fingers, indicating that was the second guard he’d killed, and then they each gave a thumbs-up, indicating their explosives had been placed and activated. It was time to clean up any other messes and get the hell out of there. All he needed to do now was find Yevorovich. And he had a feeling he knew just where to find him.
According to their intel, Yevorovich was fond of his vodka and nightly games of durak, a Russian card game. He was a man of comfort, and the last place he’d want to be was out in the cold, making sure the cargo was secure. In fact, from what they’d found out, he hadn’t wanted to be on the tanker at all, but he’d been low man on the totem pole in their quartet and hadn’t had a choice.
Deacon signaled to Axel, and they headed toward the communications room. Elias and Colin were tasked with heading belowdecks and planting their devices. They had seven minutes before the Zodiac would pick them up beneath where the life rafts hung from the side of the tanker.
Deacon smelled cigar smoke as he made his way up the stairs to the control room, and when he reached the top he heard voices. Axel squeezed his shoulder from right behind him, letting him know without words that he heard them as well.
Deacon crouched low and peered around the corner. What he knew about the game of durak was limited, but he did know there was a maximum of five players. He heard a second voice answer the first and then looked at his watch. Seconds mattered.
He signaled to Axel and they moved together—silent—and flanked the door. In theory they needed to ask Yevorovich some questions, but if there wasn’t time it was understood that they’d kill him and hope for better luck with one of his remaining partners.
Deacon kicked the door in and opened fire, sweeping to the right as the four men sitting at the table scattered in all directions. He took down two in quick succession, and Axel made short work of the other two. Yevorovich hadn’t moved from the table. He stared at Deacon out of cold blue eyes and clamped his teeth around his cigar.
“The Day of Destiny,” Deacon said in Russian. “What are the targets?”
Yevorovich smiled and blew out a thick puff of smoke. But he stayed silent.
“Last chance,” Deacon warned.
“I am prepared to die for my country. Are you prepared to die for yours?” Yevorovich asked.
Time’s up. Deacon pulled the trigger and watched the man slump over. “I’m already dead.”
They left the room and headed back down the stairs, moving swiftly toward the life rafts. Deacon caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye, recognizing the way Elias moved. A SEAL’s movements were distinct. Their training was so ingrained it was like breathing.
Deacon looked out and saw the Zodiac idle to a stop just as they reached the edge of the tanker.
“Where’s Colin?” Deacon asked.
“We split off down below,” Elias panted. “I took out two and started the charge for the explosives.”
Deacon scanned the surface of the tanker, looking for any sign of Colin, but there was nothing but an eerily still calmness. Even the winds had stopped blowing. Dante tossed the rope from below and the weighted end made a slight clank as it hit the deck. Axel tied it off quickly and then hooked his foot around the rope and jumped over the edge, sliding down quickly into the waiting Zodiac.
Elias stared at Deacon and said, “We don’t have time to look for him.”
This was the job. To make the tough calls with logic when his emotions wanted something else. And logic said there was no purpose in risking the lives of several men for the life of one.
“I know,” he said. “Go.”
Elias nodded and hooked his foot around the rope before going over the edge and down to the Zodiac. Deacon ran his hands through his hair, his sense of panic mounting. He knew Tess was waiting for him in the submarine. She was probably terrified, watching from a distance, hoping he came back safe. Unless her feelings for him weren’t what he thought they were. Hoped they were.
He had to make a decision. One of his brothers was missing, the other two were safe, and he was team leader.
“Shit,” he said. “If I’m not back in two minutes get the hell out of here,” he called down to Dante.
He got the affirmative and then he ran like hell back the way he had come. He didn’t have to go far. Colin was heading toward him, his leg dragging behind him. There was a knife in his thigh, and Deacon was glad to see he’d left it in there in case his femoral artery had been severed. Smart man. Colin put his arm around Deacon’s shoulder, and then Deacon took as much of his weight as he could and hauled ass back to the Zodiac.
The seconds were ticking down in his mind, and he knew they’d be cutting it close for their arrival back to the submarine. The sub was a safe distance away, and they didn’t want to still be in the Zodiac when the blast went off. XTNC-50 could cover a fairly large radius under the right conditions. In an explosion that size, there was no way the Zodiac could outrun the chemical weapon if they were outside the protection of the submarine.
“What’s the status?” Deacon asked him.
“It’s pretty bad,” Colin said. “Fucker was drunk and laying on the floor. Came up with a knife when I walked through the door.”
“Drunks are always unpredictable. Can you hold on?”
“I can do what I have to,” he said.
Deacon called down to Dante, and with Colin’s help, he got him situated so he could hold the rope. He slid down and into the Zodiac, and then Deacon followed after him. As soon as he was inside, Dante accelerated, jostling Deacon before he had a chance to get settled.
Dante tossed a thermal blanket on top of Colin, and Elias pressed close to his side to keep him from getting thrown around.
“Is there full medical on the sub?” Deacon asked.
“Of course,” Dante answered. “The Shadow never fails. But there’s no doctor.”
“There’s Tess,” Deacon said.
Colin laughed harshly and closed his eyes against the pain. “A mortician is just what I’ll be needing,” he said. “I’ll bleed out. I’m fucked.”
“She’s got some medical training,” Deacon told him. “She chose mortuary school when she decided medical school wasn’t her cup of tea. She’s the best hope you have right now. If we can get you hooked up and get blood into you, you have an even better shot.”
“There’s a stock of blood on board,” Dante said. “We can get him hooked up. You better hope she doesn’t try to embalm you by mistake. I imagine it’d be quite painful on the living.”
Colin was already white from blood loss, but he paled even more. “Fous-toi.”
“No thanks,” Dante said. “I’ve got a long holiday in the Virgin Islands and a lovely woman named Genevieve to take care of those needs. But I appreciate the offer.”
Deacon knew what Dante was doing, keeping Colin alert and slightly agitated so his heart rate would stay up.
The water was choppy, and a spray of fine mist rained down on them, finding its way onto any skin left uncovered. They crossed into U.S. waters, but still had a ways to go to reach the submarine. It was a starless night—pitch-black—so even the water looked like ink beneath them. The handheld radar in Deacon’s hand was their only guide. It was going to be close. Too close. Dante must’ve had the same feeling, because the Zodiac picked up speed.
It was so dark it was impossible to see the submarine until they were almost upon it. When they were alongside, Dante cut the engine and a panel in the sub opened up, just large enough for the Zodiac.
“This is going to be tricky to keep him stabilized,” Elias said when they were inside and lights came on and the panel began to close.
As soon as the panel was closed, the water began to drain beneath the Zodiac, and Deacon felt his ears pop as the pressure changed. They all carefully lifted Colin and held him steady as the water drained. Once the green light lit indicating that the chamber was secure and there were no water leaks, the door hatches unlocked and there was Tess.
The look of relief on her face when she saw him was like coming home. He’d never had that before. She wore an oversized sweatshirt and jeans, and her mass of hair was piled up on her head. She’d never looked more beautiful.
She took one look at Colin and the knife protruding from his leg and never flinched. “How bad is it?”
“Pretty bad,” Deacon said. “We’ve got to get him stabilized, and we’ve got to get submerged. We have less than five minutes until detonation. It won’t do us any good to save Colin and die from the XTNC-50 gas.”
“There’s a backboard up in the triage room,” Dante said.
“I’ll get it,” Tess said, already disappearing back inside the sub.
When she returned, they lay Colin on the backboard and the men each took a side to keep him as flat as possible. Dante split off from the group, and as they made their way to the triage room Deacon felt the sub begin to submerge.
“It’ll be close,” he said.
They moved Colin into the triage room and set the backboard on the operating table that was bolted to the floor. And then they waited as the seconds ticked by. No one spoke. No one moved. Metal creaked and groaned as the water pressed in around the sub. And then the concussion from the explosion rippled around them. The lights flickered, and as the submarine shifted subtly Deacon spread his legs to balance, catching hold of Tess as she lost her balance. After a few minutes, the soft rocking from the shock waves slowed.
“Does that mean we’re not going to die?” Tess asked.
“Technically, we’re all going to die,” Elias said. “It’s the nature of humans. But we probably won’t die today, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Smart-ass,” she said, blowing out a relieved breath. “If we’re going to live, we should probably see about Colin’s leg. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s passed out. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“We’re following your lead here,” Deacon said. “What do you need?”
“Prayers. I’ve never actually worked on a breathing person before. But anatomy is anatomy, and you’d be surprised some of the things I’ve had to do to bodies to prepare them for burial. The good news is that I’m at least familiar with how to deal with arteries, considering that’s the easiest way to embalm a person.”
“Probably not something we should tell Colin when he wakes up,” Deacon said. “Let’s run this like an op. What supplies do we need?”
The medical bay wasn’t a large space, but it was well equipped. Deacon had told her that it was The Shadow’s job to anticipate and prepare for any situation, and it was obvious they were very good at their job. Whoever they were.
“Right,” she said. “Like an op. Let’s get an IV started and a saline solution going. Someone check and see how many units of blood are in the refrigeration unit. I don’t suppose anyone knows his blood type.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Elias said. “We’ve got plenty of O pos in the fridge.”
“What are you going to do?” Deacon asked her.
She blew out a breath, and the freckles on her face stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin. She was white as a sheet, but her voice was steady when she spoke.
“I’m not a doctor. If his femoral artery is severed when we pull that knife, he very well could bleed out and die.”
“It’s a risk we all knew going in,” Deacon said. He spoke to her briskly, a bit harsh, knowing that taking her in his arms wasn’t what she needed to get through this. “You’re the best shot he has until we can get to land. We can have emergency personnel waiting for him there. We’re lucky to have you with us. The rest of us have basic training, but we couldn’t do anything of this level.”
She looked over at Colin’s pale, still form and took a deep breath. “It’s best if I pretend he’s already dead. There’s a reason I chose not to go to medical school. It takes the pressure off of trying to save a life if that’s already off the table.”
“Okay,” he said, raising his brows. This woman never failed to surprise him. “I guess that makes sense in a freakish kind of way.”
She shot him an aggravated look, and he was pleased to see a little color seeping back into her face.
“I’m not sure I understood what I was getting into when I agreed to this. I don’t understand this kind of life. I come from a place where the most exciting thing that happens is when someone forgets to pick their dog poop up off someone’s lawn. Deacon . . . I don’t know if I can do this.”
His heart stuttered and his chest tightened in agony. “Not many people can. It’s always your choice, Tess. Whatever you want to do. If you still want to leave Last Stop when we’re finished here, I won’t try to stop you.”
She nodded and averted her eyes, having no idea how many pieces she’d just left his heart in.