Red Ice

A great wall of ice water capsized the kayak. Inverted, I tore away the spray skirt and felt my body numb. Survival in ice water was a function of energy, and I was totally spent. I looked around for Matsuma. He was gone… smashed by the dying plane. I tried to swim but my numbed arms barely moved. I could see the sub clearly, as clearly as I had ever seen anything in my life—even make out faces of people as they vaulted down the hatches, preparing to dive the sub. I was sinking, waves washed over my head. In the corner of my eye I saw a splash. Where was Keiko?

So this was what it was like to die.

It was a peculiar dream. Keiko was swimming with me, crying. She kept tugging at my hair. I tried to make her stop but she wouldn’t; Dravit was on a dark black riverbank with the muzzle of a grease gun pointed into a hole with a hinged lid like a garbage can. He kept looking over at us anxiously and talking into the hole. It took forever for us to get to the riverbank, but when we did men came out of the hole and dragged us into it. I didn’t want to go.

Dravit had played dirty. It had occurred to me when we had loaded the sub that we had an inordinate amount of ordnance. Dravit had arranged to load several extra crates of C-4 and the Stinger missiles in Chinhae. He had concealed charges throughout the sub as a precaution. When the sub’s skipper had been reluctant to wait extra hours for us, Dravit had played his wild card. Only he knew how to disarm the already-armed charges—which he promised to do once the sub had recovered the raiding party. An insane, and altogether genuine gleam in Dravit’s eye was all it took to convince the sub’s captain that Dravit would willingly blow up himself, the sub, and its crew. The sub’s captain had decided then, Dravit later related, that “the proper thing to do” was wait for us.

The sub and its skipper redeemed themselves on the way back. With the entire Soviet navy looking for us, they eluded Russian antisubmarine-warfare forces, using shallow water, coastal ice, thermoclines, and other tricks I did not quite understand.

CHAPTER 27

After we negotiated the La Pérouse Straits, it was just a matter of tying up loose ends. I was told Vyshinsky, in improving health, demanded to shake the hand of every sailor on the boat as we left the straits.

Matsuma was dead. The Sea of Okhotsk had finally made its claim, and I did not look forward to returning to that Ainu fishing village with news of a dead patriarch. I knew how they would take it, though—with the same samurai-like stoicism Matsuma had shown.

As for Puckins, I intended to have Kurganov set up a generous trust fund for his family.

Gurung’s thigh, it appeared, would take about six months to fully recover. The hollow scar would never fully disappear, a prospect he relished. Chamonix’s shoulder would heal in three months but remain stiff for life. My arm would take the same amount of time to heal. Wickersham, untouched, thought better of his horse trade for the Evenki amulet.

I turned over the crypto assembly and code books to the sub’s classified-materials officer. The procedure for securing them was so complicated I knew he wished they’d deep-sixed with one of the kayaks. Well, that was done and Mr. Kim hadn’t even had to sell his mother.

Keiko, who hummed Japanese songs to herself when she thought I wasn’t looking, gave me such a scolding I knew all was well again. She was a woman to come home to.

We transferred to picket boats outside Chinhae. Vyshinsky had recovered enough strength while on the sub to walk by himself. Only Gurung would have to be carried off by stretcher.

Kurganov stood at the end of the pier in a heavy coat with a fur collar. Several men surrounded him, including reporters with cameras. Sato stood inconspicuously off to one side.

“Who invited him?” Wickersham growled, pointing down the pier. Far behind Kurganov stood Ackert in a knee-length fur coat. He had several men with him, including a U.S. Navy captain in a reefer jacket.

Vyshinsky, still very weak, moved to the rail and braced himself against a stanchion. Kurganov’s face metamorphosed into a melancholy smile. Throughout his life, smiling had been a pleasant but infrequently enjoyed exercise. He called out something to Vyshinsky that I didn’t catch. Almost before the lines were over, Vyshinsky and Kurganov were embracing in moist-eyed joy.

We dodged the reporters as professional hazards. They would have a good enough story, venturing how Vyshinsky escaped from Mother Russia. After the four of us had jostled our way through the clicking cameras, we… I began the long walk down the pier. Ackert took a few steps to meet me, with his hand outstretched.

“Fine job, simply fine job. Thought I should try an’ stop you, you were going against current policy, ol’ buddy. If my superiors had ever… Well, no harm done and the Koreans have agreed to share the crypto gizmo with my Company buddies. Why, they’re real pleased. Hell, no hard feelings, Fraze.”