The Demons of Wrangel Island
Chapter 3: Betrayal
Kowalski was lying on frozen ground. He stroked the short, hardy lichen beside him with his gloved hand, wondering how the plants managed to survive in such severe conditions. It was more than a human, alone and with scant shelter, could hope to achieve. Even cocooned in leather and fur, his fingers were growing numb. How long had he been here? How long had he been alone? Trapped in the prison of his damaged body, his mind wandered perilously far. He couldn't feel his broken leg any more and that was a good thing, especially since he was shivering so violently. Earlier, the pain had been enough to take his breath away. The frigid air of Wrangel Island would keep his body from decomposing quickly and that was a hopeful thought. There might be enough of him left for his brother to recognize, if they ever found his remains and brought them back.
The canteen lay beside his hand, empty. And the Skipper… gone. Kowalski couldn't erase the memory of him walking away, a gray shadow in the falling snow. He never looked back at the stricken man he left behind. Kowalski wanted to call to him, to beg him not to go, but it would have been pointless. The Skipper wouldn't have come back.
"Don't leave me here," he whispered. "For God's sake, Skipper, have some pity! Please! Please!"
Kowalski's eyes flew open. His breath was coming in great gasps and his leg ached as if the fracture in his femur was fresh and not over a year old. Untangling his long limbs, he sat up on the side of the bunk and buried his face in his hands. He'd had this nightmare many times before, but not for the last few months. Each time it was a little different, as his subconscious dredged up new details about the horribly botched ONI mission on Wrangel Island. He sat for a while unmoving, reliving those days in his mind as his breathing slowly returned to normal and the horrors of the dream dissipated.
His head throbbed with a dull, steady ache and he downed the glass of water on the table beside him in a single gulp. The cabin he was in now had a porthole through which he could see the westering sun. He'd apparently slept most of the afternoon. Marcel would be coming for him soon. Kowalski set his jaw and glared at the play of light on the water outside. It was like the gleam of the sun on the snowy tundra of Wrangel, hard and unyielding. His gaze as he studied it, lost in thought, became as cold and brittle as ice.
He didn't move when the cabin door opened and Marcel and two of his sailors entered. His captor stood patiently in the center of the cabin, waiting for Kowalski to speak. "Well?"
"I'm with you," Kowalski said. It was as simple as that. The words were spoken, the deed done, the choice made.
Marcel nodded with the unsurprised expression of a man used to getting his way. "I'm glad to hear it, but I warn you: if you change your mind, the death sentence will be reinstated immediately." He spoke commandingly, with a touch of steel behind his words. It didn't pay to be too magnanimous.
"I won't change my mind."
"Good man," Marcel said.
"The name's Kowalski."
"What?"
"Kowalski." He repeated the syllables slowly.
"Yes, of course- your name. Very helpful. Thank you." Marcel turned to leave and gestured that Kowalski should accompany him. "Come with me. We need to find a more suitable cabin and clothes for my new first officer."
"What about pay?"
"How much do you make now?"
Marcel shook his head when he heard the sum. "So little? When Admiral Nelson is such a wealthy man? I imagine your captain makes a tidy amount, but I suppose the crew doesn't share in the riches." He clapped Kowalski on the back. "Your life is about to change, my friend. If everything works out as planned, I'll triple your salary. How does that sound?"
"Sounds great." Kowalski winced and rubbed his forehead vigorously. "Say, Captain, my head is killing me. Can I see Doc? Aspirin won't touch my headaches, but he's got these pills that always fix me up."
For a moment Marcel hesitated, then he said. "I don't see why not. Let's both pay him a visit."
X
Jamie looked up eagerly from the medical book he was studying when Kowalski entered his cabin. He'd read the book many times and was too anxious about the fate of his fellow prisoners to lose himself in a discussion of new surgical techniques. The book was just a distraction anyway, the only thing to do in the sparsely appointed cabin that even halfway occupied his mind. At least, Jamie reflected, his guards had given his belongings back to him after they'd searched them. It was more then he'd expected, but he guessed they assumed he couldn't use anything in his medical kit to escape. Unfortunately, he had to agree they were correct.
He'd been treated well enough since being hustled below deck the previous afternoon, but had seen no one except the silent sailors who arrived every six hours with food and water. They answered none of his questions and Jamie had begun to despair of ever finding out what was going on.
He leaped to his feet and rushed toward Kowalski, only to stop in his tracks when he saw Marcel and the guards behind him. "Kowalski," he said warily, "what's going on? Are you all right? How are the Captain and the Admiral?"
"I'm fine, Doc, and I guess the others are, too. Captain Marcel says they're OK and not to worry about them. Officers are good at looking out for themselves."
Jamie stared at him as if he'd grown two heads. "What are you talking about?" he breathed. "What have they done to you?"
"I haven't done anything to him," Marcel answered briskly, before Kowalski could speak. "Mr. Kowalski is a smart man. Too smart and talented for the uses he's been put to on Seaview. I offered him a better life and he's taken me up on it."
"Kowalski, is this true? Are you helping this… this kidnapper?"
"I'm not doing anything different than you would in my place, Doc! We all want to live, right? The Skipper's pretty good at surviving regardless of what happens to anyone else, so why shouldn't I be, too?" Kowalski winced and rubbed his eyes. "Anyway, I don't have to explain. I just came here for some of that headache medicine you gave me last year, not a lecture."
Jamie looked at him sharply. "Are you having those dreams again?"
"Yeah, maybe," Kowalski said irritably. "Look, Doc, just give me the medicine, will ya? Enough to really knock me out and let me get some rest."
"I don't know. I'm not inclined to give you anything until you submit to a full medical examination." Jamie paused as Marcel drew his pistol and clicked the safety off. Slowly and deliberately, he pointed the gun at Jamie.
"Give my first officer the medicine he's requested. It would be challenging to try to remove a bullet from your own body, wouldn't it, Doctor? I doubt you'd be very successful."
"You're insane," Jamie said, "and you've brainwashed him. I don't know how you've done it, but I know you have."
"The medicine." Marcel gestured with the pistol toward Jamie's supplies.
Shaking his head, Jamie dug in his medical kit until he found the bottle of pills. He slapped it into Kowalski's hand angrily and turned away. "You know the dosage," he growled. "Now take them and get out!"
"Thank you very much," Marcel said. "You've been most helpful."
X
Marcel led Kowalski to a larger cabin and gave him clean clothes like his own: blue pants and shirt without insignia. The guards showed him where to shower and waited while he cleaned himself and dressed. Then they led him to the bridge of the oil taker. Marcel was waiting for him just outside.
"Do you feel better now?"
"Yeah. Thanks." Kowalski looked around, hands in pockets. It was early evening and a cool breeze was starting to stir above the water. "What's my first job?"
"Admiral Nelson is on the bridge and will be contacting Seaview in a moment. He's agreed to lure her here."
"Really?" Kowalski raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you could talk him into doing that. He's pretty stubborn."
Marcel smiled. "I hate to disillusion you, but he's not nearly as strong as he pretends to be. I told him someone must die at sundown because of his refusal to cooperate and I'd decided it wouldn't be you. He flew into a rage when I told him he would be executed instead." Marcel shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid you may be shocked by his condition. It's a shame— we've tried to treat him with the respect due his rank, but I'm afraid we had to subdue him rather forcefully. When he saw he couldn't escape or make me change my mind, he broke down and begged for his life. I thought you should know before you see him. It was a truly regrettable scene and I'm afraid he's a bit the worse for wear."
Kowalski nodded. "I understand. The Admiral can be really difficult. I'm sure you did what you had to."
"Exactly," Marcel said, stepping back and ushering Kowalski ahead of him onto the bridge.
Nelson stood at the radio, surrounded by guards. At first, Kowalski could barely see him in the crowd of sailors. He leaned heavily against the apparatus, as if he was holding himself upright by sheer force of will. He looked up as Marcel entered, his dull eyes flaring briefly as he recognized Kowalski. "Another hostage?" he asked, his voice soft and hoarse.
"Hardly," Marcel said smoothly. "A new member of my crew."
"I see," Nelson grunted and turned his gaze on Kowalski, who wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Are you ready to contact Seaview and order her to the coordinates we send?"
"Yes." Nelson cleared his throat with little success. "Yes, I'll do that."
"Give him some water," Marcel commanded one of the guards. "We want the Admiral to sound as normal as possible."
Nelson took the cup in trembling hands and sipped the water gingerly. After the first slow sips, he drank more deeply until the cup was drained.
"Captain," the radio operator said, "we've raised Seaview!"
Marcel handed the mic to Nelson. "Be careful," he warned.
Nelson glared at him and opened the channel. "Admiral Nelson calling Seaview." His voice sounded stronger, almost the easy, familiar voice Kowalski had heard over the radio many times.
"Admiral? Is that you, sir?"
"Yes, Mr. Morton. How are things on the boat?"
"Just fine, sir. We'll be in the Maldives tomorrow morning. How are the repairs going?"
"Not as well as I would like," Nelson said, casting a wary eye at Marcel. "The Titan is requesting additional assistance and is transmitting coordinates for a rendezvous. Have they come through?"
"Aye, sir, we're receiving them."
"Good." Nelson's tone was conversational, unemotional. "Under no circumstances should you bring Seaview to these coordinates. It's a trap, Chip. Repeat: it's a…"
Nelson had hoped to get a least another word or two out before the mic was wrested from his hand and he was thrown down onto the deck, but Marcel was quicker than he looked. The mic was left dangling and Nelson's breath was cut off as Marcel's forearm blocked his windpipe. The world spun alarmingly then righted itself as the pressure on his throat lessened, although it was still impossible to speak.
There was silence on the bridge except for Morton's voice, tinged with concern. "Admiral? Are you there, sir? Please repeat your last sentence. I'm not sure I heard you correctly."
Marcel looked around wildly, clearly at a loss as to how to respond, but Kowalski calmly picked up the mic. "Commander Morton, this is Kowalski."
"What's going on?" The concern was evident in Chip's voice.
"Everything's under control, sir. One of the computer terminals just shorted and started an electrical fire on the bridge. The Admiral had to attend to it and Captain Marcel just said he's got some men trapped below. Sorry you were hearing parts of other conversations, sir. It's pretty confusing here right now and we sure could use some help. The Admiral would like you to bring Seaview to the coordinates transmitted at flank speed."
"Thanks for the clarification, Ski. Tell the Admiral we're on our way. Seaview out."
Kowalski switched the mic off and calmly replaced it on the transmitter. He stood above Nelson, looking down impassively as Marcel snarled, "Not very clever, Admiral. How will it feel to die knowing you accomplished nothing? Seaview will be mine and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
"He might still be useful," Kowalski said.
Marcel smiled grimly, considering. "I should kill you, Nelson, but I'll let you live if you'll help us when Mr. Morton arrives. What do you say? No more tricks?"
Nelson almost laughed, but he hurt too much. "What do you think you can do to me to make me promise that?"
"Did I say anything about doing something to you?" Marcel leaned in, his arm hard against Harry's throat, pinning him helplessly. "I think you'll be willing to help. I think you'll even be eager to."
X
On board Seaview, Chip put down the mic and turned to Chief Sharkey. "Did you hear that?"
Sharkey shook his head and chuckled. "Sure sounds like the Skipper and the Admiral have their hands full."
"Maybe." Chip rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I swear the Admiral said something about it being a trap."
"Nah. Kolwalski explained that, sir. Just a misunderstanding."
"I wonder."
"You have a suspicious nature, Commander," Sharkey teased.
"Yes," Chip said, "I do." He walked back to the radio shack. "Sparks, raise the Maldives and ask them to send a ship to meet us. I want these fishermen off Seaview tonight. As soon as that's done, Chief, change course and head at flank speed to the coordinates Titan transmitted. Inform me when we're underway."
"Sir," Sharkey said, "are you sure that's wise? If it is a trap, the Admiral wouldn't want us to fall into it."
"I don't intend to, Chief." Chip turned back to Sparks. "Contact ONI for me, Sparks. I want to talk to Admiral Stark. Tell him it's urgent."
