Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [79]
Everyone on the deck stared at the bloody carcass, the understanding visible on their faces.
There was something down in that water.
Something that had killed a killer whale.
Schofield took a deep breath and turned to face Sarah. ‘Want to reconsider?’ he said.
Sarah stared at the dead killer whale for a few seconds. Then she looked back at Schofield.
‘No,’ she said. ‘No way.’
Schofield paced nervously around the pool deck, alone.
He watched as in the middle of the pool the winch’s cable plunged into the water. At the end of that cable was the diving bell, and inside the diving bell were three of his Marines plus Sarah Hensleigh. The cable entered the water at a steady speed, as fast as it could go.
The winch had been lowering the diving bell into the water for almost an hour now. Three thousand feet was a long way, almost a kilometre, and Schofield knew it would take some time before it reached that depth.
Schofield stood on the deserted deck. Twenty minutes earlier, he had sent Book, Snake and Rebound topside to try to raise McMurdo Station on the portable radio again – he had to know when a full-strength American force was going to arrive at Wilkes.
Now he stood alone on E-deck, the station around him silent save for the rhythmic mechanical thumping of the winch mechanism up on C-deck. The repetitive thump-thump-thump of the winch had an almost soothing effect on him.
Schofield pulled Sarah Hensleigh’s silver locket out of his pocket. It glistened in the white fluorescent light of the station. He turned it over in his hand. There was some writing engraved on the back of it –
And then suddenly there came a noise and Schofield’s head snapped round. It had only lasted for an instant, but Schofield had definitely heard it.
It had been a voice. A male voice. But a voice that had been speaking in . . .
. . . French.
Schofield’s eyes fell instantly upon the VLF transmitter that sat on the deck a few feet away from him.
Suddenly, the transmitter emitted a shrill whistling sound. And then the voice came again.
‘La hyène, c’est moi, le requin,’ the voice said. ‘La hyène, c’est moi, le requin. Présentez votre rapport. Je renouvele. Présentez votre rapport.’
Rebound, Schofield thought. Shit. I need Rebound. But he was outside with the others and Schofield needed a French speaker now.
‘Rebound,’ Schofield said into his helmet mike.
The reply came back immediately. ‘Yes, sir?’ Schofield could hear the swirling wind in the background.
‘Don’t say a word, Rebound. Just listen, okay,’ Schofield said, pressing a button on his belt that kept his helmet microphone switched on. He leaned in close to the VLF transmitter so that his helmet mike was near the transmitter’s speaker.
The French voice came again.
‘La hyène. Vous avez trois heures pour présenter votre rapport. Je renouvele. Vous avez trois heures pour présenter votre rapport. Si vous ne le présentez pas lorsque l’heure nous serons contraint de lancer l’engine d’efface. Je renouvele. Si vous ne le présentez pas lorsque l’heure nous serons contraint de lancer l’engine d’efface. C’est moi, le requin. Finis.’
The signal cut off and there was silence. When he was sure that it was finished, Schofield said, ‘Did you get all that, Rebound?’
‘Most of it, sir.’
‘What did they say?’
‘They said: Hyena. You have three hours to report. If you do not report by that time we will be compelled to launch the “l’engine d’efface,” the erasing device.’
‘The erasing device,’ Schofield said flatly. ‘Three hours. You sure about that, Rebound?’
Schofield grabbed his wristwatch as he spoke. It was an old Casio digital. He started the stopwatch on it. The seconds began to tick upward.
‘Very sure, sir. They said it all twice,’ Rebound said.
Schofield said, ‘Good work, Private. All right. Now all we have to do is figure out where these guys are –’
‘Uh, excuse me, sir?’ It was Rebound again.
‘What is it?’
‘Sir, I think I have an idea where they