Vengeance (3 page)

“Always the charmer,” Barnard said, amid the laughter.

“Thanks,” Price murmured so that only The Tsar could hear.

“For what?” he asked, but he gave her shoulders a small squeeze.

When The Tsar had first come on the team she had thought him shallow and vain. “I bet he never saw a mirror he didn’t like,” Barnard had once said. But there was more to him than that, and she had – they all had – grown to like his confidence and charm. He genuinely cared about people and that made all the difference, she thought.

“That ship is getting closer,” Wall said. “Seems to be heading right for us.”

“It’s not,” The Tsar said. “It’s just circling. We’ll pass well in front of it.”

“Visual identification confirmed,” Shelz’ah said. “It’s QW-73, but it’s been badly damaged.”

The ship was quickly disappearing behind them, and their high-definition cameras had identified the shape as they had passed overhead.

“I wonder if anyone got out alive?” Shelz’ah said.

Zane keyed his radio. “Coastal Defence Command, this is Patrol Echo Three Four.”

“Go ahead Echo Three Four.”

“We have identified the target as one of our own ships, QW-73.”

“That was reported sunk yesterday.”

“The report was wrong,” Zane said. “What would you like us to do?”

The answer took a few seconds to come back.

“We need visual confirmation of the state of the vessel. Check for survivors.”

“There won’t be any survivors,” Nikoz said. “Look at the heat signature. It’s glowing like a rocket tail.”

“We have our orders. We’ll give it another quick fly-by, just to be sure,” Zane said.

“Those fast movers just turned around,” Wall said.

“Check it out, Tsar,” Price said. She was immediately conscious of the lack of The Tsar’s warmth against her as he moved to take back the scope from Wall.

He nodded. “They’re turning, descending too. Coming right back at us.”

“You think they’ve seen us?” Price asked.

“I doubt it,” The Tsar said. “We’re practically invisible. They’re probably checking out that floating shipwreck.”

Price considered that for a moment. In the ice desert that was the Bering Strait mid-winter she had made decisions that, even at the time, seemed reckless. Decisions that had cost lives.

“Let’s play it safe,” she said. “Drop the sails and camo cover.”

Monster turned the bow into the wind and Price ducked instinctively as the boom swung towards her. The sheets snapped taut as the boom reached the centre-line of the yacht. Barnard and Wall lowered the sails. The boat went quiet, the dark canvas no longer straining against the ocean air, the bow no longer rising and falling. They drifted, a cork bobbing restlessly but noiselessly on the ocean. They all wrapped camo sheets around their shoulders to conceal the heat generated by their bodies.

The yacht was made of wood and fibreglass, virtually invisible to radar. The hull, the mast and the sails were all black. The yacht would be hard to see, even with night-vision goggles, but they could take no risks. Their lives depended on it. More importantly, the mission depended on it.

“Those fast movers are five klicks out,” The Tsar said. “Damn, I need to pee.”

“Dude, you’ve been peeing like it’s the world pee champs and you got a chance at the gold,” Wall said.

“Must be the sound of all this water around us,” The Tsar said.

“Just go over side,” Monster said.

“Don’t,” Price said. “Just hold it. Unless you want the high-res cameras on those jets to see your wee willie winkie.”

“They’re not high res enough for that,” Barnard said.

Everyone laughed, although Price wasn’t sure if Barnard had been making a joke or had simply taken her literally. With Barnard sometimes it was hard to tell. She was by far the smartest person on the team, but socially she could be awkward. In many ways she was the opposite of The Tsar.

“Keep calling the range,” Price said.

“Three klicks,” The Tsar said.

A gust of wind caught the rigging and a pulley knocked against the mast, a sudden loud clanging. Wall moved quickly to tighten a sheet.

“Two klicks.”

There was complete silence except for the light wash of waves against the side of the boat.

“One klick.”

The silence was broken by a rising, hissing whistle, which rapidly turned into a roar, as somewhere high above them three fast-moving Bzadian jets cut tracks through the dark night sky.

“Any chance they saw us?” Price asked.

“I guess we’ll know real soon,” The Tsar said.

“Just a burnt-out hulk,” Zane said.

“Nobody survived that,” Nikoz said.

“I’ll call it in and we’ll head back,” Zane said. “Alter course to–”

“Wait,” Shelz’ah said. “I have an anomaly on the scope, just south of the ship.”

“I didn’t see anything,” Nikoz said.

“A very weak heat signature,” Shelz’ah said. “May be nothing.”

Zane re-ran the video from his surveillance cameras. The smouldering hulk of the ship glowed white on the thermal imaging. To the south was a faint smudge. Shelz’ah had good eyes. He froze the video at that point and flicked between thermal imaging and night vision. The blackness of the ocean was flecked with white caps, dull but visible in the faint starlight, except at the location of the smudge. There was some kind of object in the water. He zoomed in.

“Okay, I see it,” Zane said. “Possibly some wreckage in the water? Floating debris?”

“What about a life raft?” Nikoz asked.

“There’s no emergency beacon,” Zane said.

“It’s not drifting; it’s under power of some kind,” Shelz’ah said. “Look behind it, there is evidence of a wake.”

Zane looked and now he saw that too. A mild vee-shaped disturbance in the water.

Zane’s craft shuddered as it struck an invisible patch of turbulence. Wild air. An unexpected bump in what had been an otherwise clear and smooth flight. He barely noticed it. His focus was on his scopes.

“Okay, we’re going back for another look,” he said. “Reduce speed to seven hundred, descend to one thousand. We’ll go low and slow, see if the scopes can pick up a better image.”

“Ship she is getting real close,” Monster said.

“How close?” Price asked.

Monster pointed to the north. A large black shape was blotting out the stars on the horizon. Price could hear it now, a low dull throb.

“Tsar, if it stays on its current course and speed, how close is it going to get?” Price asked.

“Too close,” The Tsar said. “We’re drifting right into its path.”

“Damn!” Price said. “Can we raise the sails yet?”

“Just waiting for those jets to clear the area …” The Tsar broke off. “No. They’re coming back. Descending. Guess they want a closer look.”

Price glanced back at the ship. A scorched wreck, but one that would smash their little yacht to matchsticks and plough the debris under the furrows of the ocean if they got in its way. Yet if they raised their sails they greatly increased their radar area and their risk of detection by the air patrol.

“What are your orders, LT?” Monster asked.

Again Price played it safe.

“Do nothing,” she said. “We wait. We have no choice. Let’s just hope our guardian angels have got their eyes open.”

Zane’s enemy aircraft warning indicator went off as they lined up on the floating shipwreck and the faint radar signature nearby.

“What the hell?” he said.

Six enemy aircraft had appeared to the east, right on the edge of their radar.

“Time we were gone,” Shelz’ah said.

“They’re a long way off,” Nikoz said. “And even if they get close, we can outrun them.”

“We’ll take one more look at this anomaly,” Zane said. “We’ll disappear long before those planes get within missile range.”

He called in the position, and a brief report on what they had seen, as they continued to descend and slow for their next pass.

“Light it up,” he said. “Let’s get some high-res shots of this thing.”

“I think we should get out of here,” Shelz’ah said.

She seemed nervous for someone who had earned the Bzadian Sash.

The fast little Razer had a top speed of more than mach 3. The fastest human fighters were less than half that fast.

“This won’t take long,” Zane said. “Switch on your floodlights … now.”