Arctic Storm Rising Dale Brown (literature books to read TXT) 📖

That Same Time

Alexei Petrov stood in the shelter of the trees near their camouflaged encampment. He had his head cocked, listening intentlyas the sound of a large turboprop faded slowly in the distance. The aircraft, invisible in the clouds and darkness, had madeone slow pass over the neighboring valley to the west before turning away to the north. He glanced at Bondarovich, standingnext to him looking up at the sky. “You can relax now, Sergei. Whoever that was knocking on our door, they’re leaving now.”

The ex-Spetsnaz soldier scowled. “That was too close, Colonel.” He nodded toward the camouflaged aircraft shelter. “When canthe PAK-DA take off? The sooner that bomber’s in the air and flying back to Russia, the sooner the rest of us can get outof here.”

“Not long now,” Petrov assured him. “No more than a few hours, so long as the winds continue to moderate.” He dug his boot into the snow layer, testing it. “Even after this storm, our improvised runway is still solid. So it’s just a question of waiting for the crosswinds to die down a bit.” He looked at Bondarovich. “I suggest you and your men grab some shut-eye while you can. Your prisoner, too. Poor Major Bunin has a long flight ahead, with the prospect of a cold welcome waiting for him at home. And the rest of us face what will certainly be a long, hard trek to Canada through these mountains, correct?”

The other man nodded in agreement. “True enough.” He smiled thinly. “Though at least our welcome will be much warmer thanthe major’s.” He raised an eyebrow. “What about you, Colonel?”

Petrov shrugged. “I want to refine the bomber’s return flight plan some more. Just to make sure Bunin won’t get picked upby American radar or patrols on his way out. After all, it would be bad business to take President Zhdanov’s money and thenfail to return his property.” He waggled his steel hip flask with a knowing grin. “And if I get tired, I’ve always got a littlepick-me-up to keep the party going.”

Eyeing the colonel’s vodka flask with barely concealed contempt, Bondarovich shrugged. He’d made no secret that he found Petrov’sdrinking habits unprofessional. “It’s your funeral, I guess.” Wearily, he plodded off through the snow toward the large tenthe and Grishin’s other mercenaries used as sleeping quarters. They kept Bunin tied up on a cot there, too, except when theylet him eat and attend to matters of nature.

Petrov stood watching him go. My funeral? he thought. His grin twisted. That was truer than the other man knew, and in more ways than one. He shoved the hip flaskback into his parka and headed out toward the aircraft shelter. His time here was running out fast and he had preparationsto make—preparations that would clear any potential obstacles from his path.

On the Polar Ice Cap, Northeast of Wrangel Island

That Same Time

Fourteen heavily equipped Spetsnaz commandos assembled outside what would appear from the air to be mounds of snow and ice.In reality, they were cunningly camouflaged shelters, the core of a small military camp established secretly out on the polarice cap two days before—hundreds of kilometers off the Russian and American coasts and far outside the detection range ofNORAD’s air surveillance radars. A satellite dish angled toward the horizon provided direct communication to Moscow.

Just beyond the tents, aircrews had finished stripping away the netting used to conceal two helicopters. One was a twin-turbineKamov Ka-60 Kosatka (Killer Whale) troop transport. Russia had transport helicopters with more range and payload capacity, but the Ka-60 wasdesigned for stealth, with special coatings to reduce its radar and thermal signatures. The other machine was a massive MilMi-26T2 heavy-lift helicopter that had been converted into an air refueling tanker. The extra fuel it provided en route hadallowed the smaller, shorter-ranged Ka-60 to reach this distant hidden base in the first place.

Spetsnaz Major Gennady Korenev squinted against the bitter wind keening across the ice. He was glad that Moscow had finally made up its mind to deploy his detachment. Forty-eight hours spent sheltering against brutal temperatures that routinely dropped to more than forty degrees below zero was more than enough to convince any rational man that this vast desolation was best left to the polar bears.

With Korenev in the lead, his group of elite troops marched briskly toward the waiting Ka-60. Its engines were already spoolingup. Slowly at first, and then gradually faster, its rotor blades began turning.

Just before they climbed into the helicopter, Korenev’s second-in-command, Captain Primakov, touched his arm and pointed backtoward the camp. “We’ve got company coming,” he yelled over the shrill, growing whine of the helicopter’s twin turbines.

Korenev turned and saw one of the Air Force officers who’d flown in to man this temporary camp hurrying toward them acrossthe ice. His mouth twisted in frustration. “Oh, for God’s sake, has Moscow gotten cold feet?”

“Can’t be as cold as mine right now,” Primakov joked. “Maybe one of our guys left his toothbrush behind.”

Unwilling to be amused, Korenev shook his head. “Get the men on board, Captain. It’s too fucking cold to fart around out here.If the mission’s been called off, at least we can warm up a little first.” He moved out from the helicopter to meet the newcomerhalfway.

It was the ice camp’s communications specialist. He held out a message folder and map overlay. “This just came in from Moscow,Major,” he panted, trying to catch his breath in the bitter, lung-freezing chill. “Highest priority.”

Korenev read through the message with growing interest. The GRU had just received new intelligence from one of its most reliableagents, a source code-named SIROTA, Orphan. A small force of American troops—an irregular mix of active-duty Army and Air Force personnel and National Guard reservists—had reached the target zone ahead of them. The map overlay showed the U.S. unit’s last reported position. As a consequence, his original orders to deploy for a covert reconnaissance into the region had been altered. Now he was to hunt down these Americans and eliminate them first. He shrugged,