Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [107]
On top of all that, Barnaby was also jamming Schofield’s radio, stopping him from getting in contact with McMurdo. Stopping him from making contact with the only people in the world who were capable of taking out the French warship that was hovering off the coast, waiting to launch its missiles at Wilkes Ice Station.
Schofield checked his stopwatch. It read:
2:02:31
2:02:32
2:02:33
Shit, Schofield thought.
Less than an hour until they launched.
Shit. It was all happening too fast. It was as if the whole world was closing in around him.
Schofield looked at the rangefinder viewscreen again, looked at the swarm of dots approaching Wilkes Ice Station.
Twenty hovercrafts, he thought. Probably two or three men in each. That meant a minimum of fifty men.
Fifty men.
And what did Schofield have.
Three good men in the station proper. Three more down in the cave. Mother down in the storeroom and Snake handcuffed to a pole on E-deck.
The situation didn’t just look bad.
It looked hopeless.
Either they stayed here and fought a suicidal battle with the SAS, or they ran – made a break for McMurdo in the hovercrafts – and brought back reinforcements later.
There really was no choice at all.
Schofield looked up at the small group gathered around him.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘We get out of here.’
Schofield’s feet clanged loudly as they landed hard on the cold metal floor of E-deck. Schofield strode quickly across the deck toward the south tunnel and Mother’s storeroom.
‘What’s going on?’ a voice called out from the other side of the deck. Snake. ‘Trouble, Lieutenant?’
Schofield approached the handcuffed soldier. He saw the two French scientists kneeling on the deck on either side of him. They just stared resignedly at the deck.
‘You made a mistake,’ Schofield said to Snake. ‘You started killing your own men too soon. You should have waited until you were sure we had this station secured. Now we’ve got twenty British hovercrafts speeding toward us and no reinforcements in sight. They’re going to be here in twenty-three minutes.’
Snake’s face remained impassive, cold.
‘And you know what,’ Schofield said. ‘You’re gonna be here when they arrive.’ He began to walk away.
‘You’re going to leave me here?’ Snake said in disbelief.
‘Yes.’
‘You can’t do that. You need me,’ Snake said.
Schofield looked at his watch as he walked.
Twenty-two minutes until the SAS arrived.
‘Snake, you had your chance and you blew it. Now, you’d better pray that we break through their line and get to McMurdo. Because if we don’t, this whole station – and whatever’s buried down in the ice beneath it – is gonna be lost forever.’
Schofield stopped by the entrance to the south tunnel and turned around. ‘And in the meantime, you can take your chances with Trevor Barnaby.’
With that, Schofield turned away from Snake and entered the south tunnel. He immediately swung right and entered Mother’s storeroom. Mother was seated on the floor by the wall again. She looked up when Schofield came in.
‘Trouble?’ she said.
‘As always,’ Schofield said. ‘Can you move?’
‘What’s happening?’
‘Our favourite ally just sent their best troops in to take this station.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The SAS are on their way and they don’t sound friendly.’
‘How many?’
‘Twenty hovercrafts.’
‘Shit,’ Mother said.
‘That’s what I thought. Can you move?’ Schofield was already probing around behind Mother’s chair, to see if he could gather together all of her fluid bags and intravenous drips.
‘How long till they get here?’ Mother asked.
Schofield looked quickly at his watch. ‘Twenty minutes.’
‘Twenty minutes,’ Mother said.
Behind her, Schofield quickly grabbed two fluid lines.
‘Scarecrow . . .’ Mother said.
‘Just a second.’
‘Scarecrow.’
Schofield stopped what he was doing and looked up at Mother.
‘Stop,’ Mother said gently.
Schofield looked at her.
Mother said, ‘Scarecrow. Get out of here. Get out of here now. Even if we had a full squad of twelve swordsmen, we’d