Page 115 of Enemy Within

The next two clambered down intoHonoluluon their own. Sergeants Wright and Coleman, the enlisted leaders of the Marine team. Both were shivering, and their eyes were hollow and red-rimmed. Their lips were blue, and their teeth chattered.

Last out was someone he didn’t remember. An Arab, tall and slender, and bundled with extra layers of clothes. He was pale, and his lips were tinted blue, but he was in better shape than the others. Anderson stopped him. “I’m Captain Anderson. I don’t recall your name.”

The man flinched. “Faisal, Captain.” He licked his lips. Closed his eyes. Exhaled slowly. “Faisal Cooper.”

Cooper?That was the name of the Lieutenant leading the Marine team. He frowned.

“Lieutenant Adam Cooper and I were… close,” Faisal breathed. “I was attached to his team as a special advisor.”

“And where is Lieutenant Cooper? How’d you guys get in that sub?”

Faisal looked down the hallway. His jaw clenched hard, and a vein pulsed in his temple.

Oh.Anderson breathed out. He crossed his arms, pursing his lips. “Where is the president? Where’s the rest of your team?”

Faisal shook his head. “I don’t know. We were separated and ambushed at one of the stations. The president and the others never arrived.”

It was Anderson’s turn to bow his head and glare at the deck.

Faisal’s voice was soft, but roughened when he spoke. “How did you find us?”

“We were coming back to the rendezvous. We took out that Russian sub over the pole. She’s down in the Nansen Abyss, and no one will ever find her or her crew.” A part of Anderson twinged at that. He was, in his soul, a submariner. Any sub going down was a haunting reminder of their own fragile predicament, how their lifesaving boat could become a tomb from one second to the next. “Boomer picked up your SOS.”

Faisal almost smiled, weakly. “Doc insisted on banging on the hull. I thought Sergeant Wright was going to strangle him after a few hours.”

“It saved your life.”

Faisal nodded. Silence strained the air between, filled only withHonolulu’srattle and uneven hum. “What now, Captain?” he finally asked.

Anderson squared his jaw. A broken ship, an exhausted crew, President Spiers missing, and their assault team shattered. Any commander would call it in, retreat and regroup and lick their wounds before launching a stronger assault.

They didn’t have that luxury. They were running out of time.

“We have to keep going. Find Madigan, and get back in the fight. We finish the mission, no matter what.”

47

Kara Sea

SASHA DID HIS BEST bringing the powerless plane down. He’d kept them gliding until the end, until the plane tipped nose-forward and plunged the last twenty feet into the ice cap. Jack and Ethan, sitting behind Sasha and Sergey, held hands and stared into each other’s eyes. Ethan mouthedI love youin a constant loop. Behind them, Scott strapped himself to the jump seat in the rear and kept a steady spew of curses flowing at the top of his lungs.

When they crashed, the Beriev tipped onto its left side, snapping the wing clean off. The nose crushed instantly, shorn metal and engine parts exploding outward and scattering across the ice.

Jack, Ethan, and Scott bounced in their seats, rattled against their restraints, but stumbled from the wreckage with just bumps and bruises.

Sergey wasn’t as lucky. The nose had crumpled, exploding inward and outward and compacting the cockpit almost right on top of Sasha and Sergey. Sergey had slammed forward, his head smacking the instruments. He sat slumped in his seat, blood oozing down his face, unconscious. Sasha hovered next to him, bleeding from his nose, trying to rouse his lover.

Ethan physically checked Jack over when they stumbled from the wreck, running his hands through Jack’s hair, down his neck, and cupping his face. He looked deep into Jack’s gaze.

Jack grabbed his wrists. He tried to smile. “I’m okay, Ethan.” Nodding, Ethan kissed his forehead, letting his lips linger.

In the distance, the high-pitched whine of snowmobile engines broke the heavy silence that covered the ice. “We’ve got company,” Scott growled. “Get behind the plane!”

They took cover, shielding behind the right wing and engine, and pulled out their rifles. Ethan laid out spare magazines in front of him and Jack. “Remember how to reload?”

Jack nodded. “I’ve had some practice.” He looked up. A line of snowmobiles appeared on the ice, racing toward them. Six men in mismatched uniforms, each armed to the teeth. Jack spotted nasty-looking rifles and bandoliers of bullets.

Ethan frowned. “You shouldn’t have to know these things.”