Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [75]
The Ranger captain spoke firmly. ‘Lieutenant Schofield, my orders are clear. No one goes in there. No one. If anyone tries to enter that building, my orders are to shoot them on sight. If you try to enter that building, Lieutenant, I will be forced to open fire on you.’ His voice went cold. ‘Have no doubt that I will, Lieutenant. I won’t think twice about offing a dozen faggot Marines.’
Schofield had glared at the Ranger captain.
He was a tall man, about forty, a career front-line soldier, fit but barrel-chested, with a full head of crew-cut, grey hair. He had cold, lifeless eyes and a weathered, sneering face. Schofield remembered his name – would always remember it – remembered the bastard stating it in a robotic, staccato manner after Schofield had demanded it from him: Captain Arlin F. Brookes, United States Army.
And so Schofield and his team were held back at the perimeter, while Andrew Trent’s voice continued to shout desperately over Schofield’s helmet intercom.
The more Trent shouted, the more furious and frustrated Schofield became.
The SEAL team that had gone inside had killed more of his men, Trent said. Some of his own men had then joined them and turned on him and killed others in his unit from point-blank range. Trent didn’t know what was going on.
The last thing Schofield heard over his helmet intercom that day was Trent saying that he was the last one left.
Andrew Trent never came out of the temple.
About a year later, after making some enquiries, Schofield was told that Trent’s unit had arrived at that temple only to find no one there. There was no battle, Schofield was told, no fighting with anyone. No ‘mysterious discovery’ in the first place. Upon arriving at the temple and finding it empty, Trent and his team had investigated the dark, dank ruins. It was during that search that a few men – Trent included – fell down a concealed plug hole. It was estimated that the plug hole was at least a hundred feet deep, with sheer rock walls. No one had survived the fall. A search had apparently been made and all the bodies had been recovered.
Except Trent’s, Schofield had been told. Andrew Trent’s body was never found.
It made Schofield furious. Officially, nothing had ever happened at that temple. Nothing but a tragic accident that had claimed the lives of twelve United States Marines.
Schofield knew he was the only one who had heard Trent’s voice over the radio system; knew no one would believe him if he ever questioned what had happened. If he said anything, it would probably only win him a quiet court martial and an even quieter dishonourable discharge.
And so Schofield had never mentioned the incident to anyone.
But now, in the cold confines of an underground ice station in the Antarctic, it was coming back to haunt him.
They planted men in my unit! They planted fucking men in my unit!
Trent’s words echoed inside Schofield’s head as he thought about whether Rebound had killed Samurai.
Had they also planted men inside his unit?
And who were ‘they’ anyway? The US Government? The US military?
It sounded like something that might have happened in the old Soviet Union. A government planting ‘special’ men inside elite units. But then, as Schofield knew, the United States and the USSR had not really been all that different. The US had always accused the Soviets of indoctrination, while at the same time they played ‘Star Spangled Banner’ every single morning in schools across America.
The thought of disloyal men inside his unit made Schofield’s skin crawl.
He continued with his mental checklist.
Hell, even Riley and Gant – engaged in the preparation of the scuba gear down on E-deck – had occasionally separated. Every so often, Riley would go and check on Mother.
Schofield couldn’t believe that Book Riley was a traitor. He had known him for too long.
But Gant? Schofield