Chapter Five

Base Camp

The Major had sent Agent Z ahead to the NATO office in Reykjavik to coordinate efforts and procure what he would need on the ice cap. When he and the alphabets arrived the following day, Z informed him that that a Soviet tanker had appeared that morning reporting "mechanical" problems. It was currently anchored off the eastern coast of Iceland, conveniently close to the ice cap, and had requested permission to remain there until the repairs were completed.

The Major ordered Agent Z to continue to monitor the tanker while he went to the ice cap with A and B, neither of whom was very happy about it. The three were flown by helicopter to the remote area in the western portion of the glacier. The volcanologists had marked the area containing the artefact out with flags, which were clearly visible from the air. The fissure ran from North to South and stretched out for several kilometres, the marked out area being near the northern tip. The Major had the pilot do a quick sweep of the area so he could check to see if the KGB had arrived before him.

"What is that dwelling I see?" the Major asked, pointing to what looked like a large hut.

The pilot craned his neck. "That's the base camp those scientists left behind," he replied.

The Major nodded and continued to scan the area. He did not like the fact that the hut was there. The KGB could be inside and he would have no way of knowing it.

He ordered the pilot to set them down on the southern end of the fissure containing the artefact, much to the consternation and grumbling of Agents A and B who were forced to unload all of the equipment.

"We'll set up base camp here," the Major ordered, looking around the barren surroundings and cursing his Chief and everyone he was even remotely related to at the same time. When he realized the men were staring at him, he glared at them. "What are you waiting for, imbeciles? Room service? Put up the shelter!"

While the men alternately complained about life in general, the harshness of their surroundings, the unfairness of this assignment and the difficulty of the assembly instructions, the Major studied the map of the Vatnajökull ice cap and the Grímsvötn caldera it contained. It was enormous, there was not getting around it. Eighty-one thousand square kilometres of ice. Fortunately, the area he wanted had been highlighted, as had the base camp used by the scientists. He had taken advantage of the topography, making his base camp in a valley in the ice field. Now if the KGB did appear and venture in his direction, they would not see his camp.

The Major looked up, seeing the men still struggling with the tent. He was relieved to see that it was not a green or sand camouflage type. It was a very sensible white and would effectively hide their presence. He reflected that it was probably a good thing he had had Agent Z procure their supplies. If he'd left it up to the half-wits who were still struggling with the tent poles, he would probably have ended up with a red and white circus tent.

For once, the Major's seeming paranoia had not been in vain. At the same time the alphabets were struggling with the shelter, four KGB agents were stowing their equipment in the hut. They seemed to open their parkas as one, being relieved to be out of the chilling wind on the glacier. One of them went to the stove in the center of the room, made certain it had fuel in it and lit the flame, holding his hands up to it to warm them.

The leader of the group observed his subordinates with some pride, pulling off his hood to reveal his bald head beneath. Were the Major present, he would have instantly recognized him as Mischa the Cub, a KGB man he had frequently butted heads with. To say the men disliked one another would have been an understatement. In fact, it was common knowledge that they hated one another and there were ongoing wagers in both camps as to who would kill the other first. It was even money on the Major shooting Mischa, and slightly higher on Mischa actually killing the Major with his bare hands.

Once the opposing KGB and NATO camps were settled in, they journeyed to the artefact. When the Major's group arrived, they found a metal ladder affixed to the side of the ice that had been placed there by the volcanologists. The Major looked at the considerable distance he had to descend before leading the way down the ladder. Agent A was to follow, leaving the unfortunate B to keep watch in the bone chilling cold.

"Stop whining like a woman," the Major snapped as he vanished from sight.

"I'm going to freeze to death up here, Major," B protested. "I'll be a frozen log when you come back."

"Then we'll use you for firewood," the Major snorted.

The agent gave an appalled squeak.

"Mein Gott," the Major moaned as he jumped the remaining distance to the ground. "You'd think you'd never been in the snow before."

"I never thought I'd say this," B said quietly to A, "but I think I liked Alaska better."

"I can always arrange a transfer for you!" the Major called up to him.

Agent A had to stifle a laugh at the horrified expression this produced on his comrade's face. "Just keep moving around and stamp your feet," he said before vanishing from sight. Once he reached the bottom of the ladder, he waited as B lowered down the duffel bag they had brought with them. He did not know what the Major had packed inside, and was dreading finding out.

Agent A found the Major studying the alien object protruding from the ice. "It looks much larger than I thought," he observed. "Those useless photographs didn't give any indication of scale."

"Are we supposed to chip it out of there?" Agent A wanted to know, dropping the duffel bag at the Major's feet.

"Ja. I think that's exactly what we're supposed to do." The Major expected to hear a dozen protests. When this did not happen, he looked up, doing a double take when he saw the horrified expression on A's face. He turned to follow his gaze, stiffening visibly when he saw Mischa the Cub and two others standing several metres away, each with a gun in his hand.

The Major would learn later that the KGB men had been in the fissure when he and the others arrived. They had apparently heard them approaching and had hidden themselves behind a jagged outcrop in the ice wall until their arrival. The Major wanted the kick himself when he heard this. He had been so busy trying to get out of the wind he had overlooked the obvious chance to walk the length of the crack to see if anyone else were inside.

"Major Eberbach, fancy meeting you here," Mischa said happily. He looked up and saw the aghast Agent B looking down on the scene. "You, come down here. And don't try anything or the first bullet I fire is into the Major's skull."

The Major and his men were relieved of their weapons and then the officer's hands were bound in front of him. He was thrust against one wall, and a gun was held to his head. His men were then ordered to begin chipping the artefact from the ice.

The work went on for several hours until the light of the long arctic day finally started to wane. Night lasted only a few hours at this time of year.

After climbing the ladder, the KGB men led their prisoners back to the hut where they grudgingly fed them. Since they planned on using them as forced labor in the extraction of the artefact, they would have to keep them healthy. At least, until they were no longer of use to them.

Mischa had spent a good deal of the day taunting the Major on how easily he and his men had been captured. What a coup this would be for him in Moscow when he returned with both the artefact and the famous Iron Klaus.

The Major had shocked everyone by not responding to any of the Russian's taunts, choosing instead to remain steadfastly silent. To his amusement, he discovered that the longer he remained silent, the more irritated Mischa became. It soon became a game, seeing the reactions he could elicit with a sideways glance or bored sigh as he casually smoked his cigarettes.

Agents A and B, on the other hand, were of the opinion that their leader had finally lost his mind. He was supposed to be yelling and screaming obscenities, not standing there casually smoking while they worked themselves to death.

As the group entered the hut, Mischa heard the Major give a bored sigh and finally snapped. He took the German by the throat, and pulled his face close to his own. "I know what you're playing at, Major," he snarled threateningly. "You won't be so cool when you're inside the Kremlin." He punctuated his remark by landing a fist across the bound man's jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.

The Major thought he would bite through his tongue, but he did not respond. As long as the Russian needed him as a means of keeping his men in line, he was not in danger of being killed. He glared at the Russian, wiping the blood from his mouth and reflecting in satisfaction on how his gamble had paid off. He had goaded Mischa to the point where he could get close enough to remove his gun from his coat without the Russian realizing. Perhaps he actually had learned something useful from that irritating pervert Eroica after all. Now all he had to do was wait for the opportunity to escape.