Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [160]
The frozen cable snapped.
The diving bell submerged.
Schofield blanched. Then he ran.
Ran as fast as he could. Toward the pool. Because now this would be the last trip the diving bell would be making to the underwater tunnel and it was the only way to get to the cavern and if Barnaby were to get there and the Marines down there were already dead, then the British would have the spaceship and the battle would be lost and Schofield had come too fucking far to lose everything now –
Schofield hit the edge of the deck running and dived high into the air, just as the diving bell disappeared under the surface.
After penetrating the water, Schofield shot downwards.
And then he swam. Hard. With strong, powerful strokes, chasing the descending diving bell.
Now free of its winch cable, the diving bell began to sink fast and Schofield had to use all of his strength to catch it. He came close, reached out and . . . grabbed the piping that ran around the exterior of the diving bell.
Inside the diving bell, Barnaby holstered his gun and pulled out his detonation unit.
He checked the time. 8:37 p.m.
Then he set the timer on the detonation unit. He gave himself two hours, enough time to get to the underground cavern. It was crucial that he be down there when the ring of Tritonal charges surrounding Wilkes Ice Station went off.
Barnaby then pulled his Navistar Global Positioning System transponder from his pocket and hit the ‘TRANSMIT’ button.
Barnaby smiled as he put the GPS transponder back into his pocket. Despite the loss of his men up in the station, his plan – his original plan – was still on track.
When the eighteen Tritonal charges went off, Wilkes Ice Station would float out to sea on a newly formed iceberg. Then, thanks to Barnaby’s GPS receiver, British rescue forces – and British rescue forces alone – would know exactly where to find the iceberg, the station, Barnaby himself, and, most importantly of all, the spaceship.
The diving bell fell downwards through the water – fast – with Shane Schofield clutching onto the piping on top of it.
Slowly, hand-over-hand, Schofield made his way down the side of the falling diving bell. The big bell rocked and swayed as it careered downward through the water, but Schofield held on.
And then, at last, Schofield came to the base of the bell and swung himself under it.
Schofield burst up inside the diving bell.
He saw Barnaby right away, saw the detonation unit in his hand.
Barnaby whirled around and drew his gun, but Schofield was already launching himself out of the water. Schofield’s fist shot up out of the water and slammed into Barnaby’s wrist. Barnaby’s gun hand popped open in a reflex and the gun flew out of it and clattered to the deck.
Schofield’s feet found the deck of the diving bell just as Barnaby crash-tackled him. The two men slammed into the curved interior wall of the bell. Schofield tried to kick Barnaby away from him, but Barnaby was too skilled a fighter. Barnaby crunched Schofield against the wall, and let fly with a powerful kick. His steel-capped boot connected with Schofield’s cheek, and Schofield flailed backwards and felt his face slam up against the cold glass of one of the portholes of the diving bell.
At that moment – and for just a split second – Schofield saw the glass of the porthole in front of him; saw a thin crack begin to form in the glass right in front of his eyes.
Schofield didn’t have time to ponder that. Barnaby kicked him again. And again. And again. Schofield fell to the deck.
‘You never give up, do you,’ Barnaby said as he lay the boot into Schofield. ‘You never give up.’
‘This is my station,’ Schofield said through clenched teeth.
Another kick. The steel cap of Barnaby’s boot slammed into the rib that Schofield had broken during his fight with the SAS commando in the hovercraft earlier. Schofield roared in agony.
‘It’s not your station anymore, Scarecrow.’
Barnaby kicked at Schofield again, but this time Schofield rolled out of the way and Barnaby’s boot hit the steel wall of the diving bell.
Schofield kept rolling