Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [157]
And then Schofield heard Barnaby’s voice. ‘Nero! The lights! Either get them on or get them off! Find that fucking fuse box!’
The station was in chaos, absolute chaos. There was no steady light, just the terrible, incessant flickering.
Schofield saw shadows on the other side of B-deck.
Can’t go there.
Schofield looked out over the central shaft, and in a flickering instant, his eyes fell on the retractable bridge on C-deck.
The bridge on C-deck . . .
Schofield quickly checked his inventory.
One Glock pistol. One MP-5. Neither of which would be enough to take out twenty SAS commandos.
Schofield still had the satchel he had stolen from the SAS man who had come in from outside. Two Tritonal charges were in the satchel. He also had the two nitrogen charges he had liberated from the very first SAS commando he had killed after flying up out of the water on the Maghook.
‘All right,’ Schofield said, looking down at the narrow retractable bridge on the deck beneath him. ‘It’s time to end this.’
In the ghostly flickering light of the station, Schofield and Kirsty stepped out onto the retractable bridge on C-deck.
If anybody had seen them, they would have seen them walk right out onto the middle of the bridge; would then have seen Schofield crouch down on one knee and do something to the bridge for several minutes.
And then, when he was done, they would have seen Schofield just crouch down next to Kirsty and wait.
A few minutes later, the British found the fuse box and the flickering stopped and the lights to the station came on again. The station glowed white under its bright fluorescent lights.
It didn’t take the SAS long to spot Schofield and Kirsty.
Schofield stood up on the bridge as the remainder of the SAS unit – about twenty men – adopted positions on the C-deck catwalk, surrounding him. It was a strange sight – Schofield and Kirsty out in the middle of the shaft, standing in the centre of the retractable bridge, while the SAS took up positions on the circular catwalk all around them.
The SAS raised their guns . . .
. . . just as Schofield held one of the Tritonal charges high above his head.
Good strategy is like magic. Make your enemy look at one hand while you’re doing something with the other . . .
‘Hold your fire,’ Barnaby’s voice came over Schofield’s headset. ‘Hold your fire.’
Schofield saw Barnaby step out onto the pool deck fifty feet below him, alone. All of the SAS platoon except for Barnaby were up on C-deck, surrounding Schofield.
Schofield glanced at the pool next to Barnaby. The killer whales were nowhere to be seen. Good.
‘I’ve armed the Tritonal charge!’ Schofield shouted. ‘And my finger is holding the “ARM” button down! The timer is set for two seconds! If you shoot me, I’ll drop the charge and we all die!’
Schofield stood with his feet spread apart out in the middle of the retractable bridge. Kirsty was kneeling at his feet, huddled beneath him. Schofield hoped that the SAS didn’t see his hands shaking. He hoped they didn’t see that his shoelaces were missing.
‘And if you shoot the girl,’ Schofield said, seeing one of the SAS men lower his sights at Kirsty, ‘I’ll definitely drop the charge.’
As he spoke, Schofield cast a worried glance over at the alcove on the catwalk.
If they retracted the bridge . . .
Barnaby shouted up to Schofield, ‘Lieutenant, this is very unpleasant. You have killed no less than six of my men. Have no doubt, we will kill you.’
‘I want safe passage out of here.’
‘You’re not going to get it,’ Barnaby said.
‘Then we all go up in flames.’
Barnaby shook his head. ‘Lieutenant Schofield, this is not you. You would sacrifice your own life, I know that. Because I know you. But I also know that you could never sacrifice the girl.’
Schofield felt his blood chill.
Barnaby was right. Schofield could never kill Kirsty. Barnaby was calling his bluff. Schofield glanced again at the alcove over on the catwalk. The alcove that housed the bridge controls.
Nero caught him looking.
Schofield watched intently as Nero looked from Schofield to the alcove and then back