Deception Point Page 49

Marjorie Tenchs raspy character echoed in her mind. Are you aware that Sexton is accepting bribes from private aerospace companies?Gabrielles heartbeat began racing as she gazed put through the darkened hallway toward the archway that excise into the senators den. She knew she should speak up, announce her presence, and yet she felt herself inching quietly forward. She moved to within a few feet of the archway and stood soundless(prenominal)ly in the shadows listening to the converse beyond.55While Delta-Three stayed behind to collect Norah Mangors body and the sled, the other devil soldiers deepen down the glacier after their quarry.On their feet they wore ElektroTread-powered skis. Modeled after the consumer libertine Trax motorized skis, the classified ElektroTreads were essentially snow skis with miniaturized tank treads affixed-like snowmobiles worn on the feet. Speed was controlled by pushing the tips of the index finger and thumb together, condensation two pressure plates in boldness the right-hand glove. A powerful change battery was molded around the foot, doubling as insulation and allowing the skis to dribble silently. Ingeniously, the kinetic energy generated by gravity and the spinning treads as the wearer glided down a hill was automatically harvested to recharge the batteries for the next incline.Keeping the finish at his acantha, Delta-One crouched low, skimming seaward as he surveyed the glacier before him. His shadow vision system was a far cry from the Patriot modeling used by the Marines. Delta-One was looking through a hands-free face draw near with a 40 x 90 mm six-element lens, three-element Magnification Doubler, and tops(predicate) Long Range IR. The world outside appeared in a intelligible tint of cool blue, rather than the usual green-the color scheme peculiarly designed for mettlesomely reflective terrains like the Arctic.As he approached the archetypal berm, Delta-Ones goggles revealed several bright stripes o f freshly disturbed snow, climb up and over the berm like a neon cursor in the night. Apparently the three escapees had either not thought to unhook their makeshift sail or had been unable to. Either way, if they had not released by the final berm, they were now somewhere out in the ocean. Delta-One knew his quarrys protective turn would lengthen the usual life expectancy in the water, scarcely the stern glumshore currents would drag them out to sea. Drowning would be inevitable.Despite his confidence, Delta-One had been trained never to assume. He needed to see bodies. Crouching low, he pressed his fingers together and accelerated up the first incline.Michael Tolland lay motionless, taking stock of his bruises. He was battered, but he sensed no broken bones. He had little dubiety the gel-filled Mark IX had saved him any substantial trauma. As he opened his eyes, his thoughts were slow to focus. Everything seemed softer here quieter. The wind still howled, but with less ferocit y.We went over the edge-didnt we?Focusing, Tolland found he was lying on field glass-skating rink, draped crosswise Rachel Sexton, almost at right angles, their locked carabiners twisted. He could feel her breathing to a lower place him, but he could not see her face. He rolled out her, his muscles barely responding.Rachel? Tolland wasnt sure if his lips were making sound or not.Tolland recalled the final seconds of their harrow ride-the upward drag of the balloon, the payload cable snapping, their bodies plummeting down the far side of the berm, slue up and over the final mound, skimming toward the edge-the ice trail out. Tolland and Rachel had fall, but the fall had been oddly short. Rather than the expected plunk to the sea, they had fallen only ten feet or so before hitting another(prenominal) slab of ice and sliding to a interference with the dead weight of bad in tow.Now, raising his head, Tolland looked toward the sea. Not far extraneous, the ice ended in a sheer c liff, beyond which he could hear the sounds of the ocean. Looking back up the glacier, Tolland strained to see into the night. cardinal yards back, his eyes met a high wall of ice, which seemed to hang above them. It was then that he realized what had happened. in some manner they had slid saturnine the main glacier onto a lower terrace of ice. This section was flat, as large as a hockey rink, and had partially collapsed-preparing to cleave off into the ocean at any moment.Ice calving, Tolland thought, eyeing the precarious platform of ice on which he was now lying. It was a broad square slab that hung off the glacier like a colossal balcony, surrounded on three sides by precipices to the ocean. The sheet of ice was attached to the glacier only at its back, and Tolland could see the link was anything but permanent. The boundary where the lower terrace clung to the Milne Ice Shelf was label by a gaping pressure fissure almost quartet feet across. Gravity was well on its way to winning this battle.Almost to a greater extent frightening than seeing the fissure was Tollands seeing the motionless body of corked Marlinson crumpled on the ice. bad lay ten yards away at the end of a taut tether attached to them.Tolland tried to tolerate up, but he was still attached to Rachel. Repositioning himself, he began detaching their mesh topology carabiners.Rachel looked weak as she tried to sit up. We didnt go over? Her share was bewildered.We fell onto a lower delay of ice, Tolland said, finally unfastening himself from her. Ive got to answer Corky.Painfully, Tolland attempted to stand, but his legs felt feeble. He grabbed the tether and heaved. Corky began sliding toward them across the ice. After a dozen or so pulls, Corky was lying on the ice a few feet away.Corky Marlinson looked beaten. Hed missed his goggles, suffered a bad cut on his cheek, and his nose was bleeding. Tollands worries that Corky expertness be dead were quickly allayed when Corky rolled ov er and looked at Tolland with an angry glare.Jesus, he stammered. What the hell was that little trickTolland felt a wave of relief.Rachel sat up now, wincing. She looked around. We need to get off of here. This block of ice looks like its about to fall.Tolland couldnt have agreed more. The only motion was how.They had no time to consider a solution. A familiar sopranino whir became audible above them on the glacier. Tollands gaze shot up to see two white-clad figures ski effortlessly up onto the edge and stop in unison. The two men stood there a moment, peering down at their battered prey like chess masters savoring humble before the final kill.Delta-One was surprised to see the three escapees alive. He knew, however, this was a temporary condition. They had fallen onto a section of the glacier that had already begun its inevitable plunge to the sea. This quarry could be disabled and killed in the same manner as the other woman, but a far cleaner solution had besides presented i tself. A way in which no bodies would ever be found.Gazing downwardly over the lip, Delta-One focused on the gaping crevasse that had begun to spread like a wedge between the ice shelf and the clinging block of ice. The section of ice on which the three fugitives sat was dangerously perched ready to break away and fall into the ocean any day now.Why not nowadaysHere on the ice shelf, the night was rocked every few hours by deafening booms-the sound of ice cracking off parts of the glacier and plummeting into the ocean. Who would take notice?Feeling the familiar warm rush of adrenaline that accompany the preparation for a kill, Delta-One reached in his supply pack and pulled out a heavy, lemon-shaped object. Standard issue for military assault teams, the object was called a flash-bang-a nonlethal concussion grenade that temporarily disoriented an enemy by generating a crying(a) flash and deafening concussion wave. Tonight, however, Delta-One knew this flash-bang would most certai nly be lethal.He positioned himself near the edge and wondered how far the crevasse descended before tapering to a close. Twenty feet? Fifty feet? He knew it didnt matter. His plan would be effective regardless.