Treasure (Dirk Pitt 9)

"Begging the Captain's pardon," interrupted the watch officer, "I forgot to mention the landing flaps were down."

"Still no proof of an immanent crash," Knight said stubbornly.

"Damn the compassion, full steam ahead," Pitt said coldly. "This isn't war, Captain. We're talking about a mission of mercy. I wouldn't want it on my conscience if a hundred people died because I failed to act.

The Navy can well afford the time it takes to investigate."

Knight tilted his head toward the empty chart room, closing the door after Pitt and Giordino entered. "We have our own mission to consider,"

he persisted calmly. "We Turn off course now and the Russians will suspect we found their sub and home in on this area."

"Solid point," Pitt acknowledged. "But you can still send Giordino and me into the game."

"I'm listening."

"We use our NUMA helicopter on the aft deck and you supply your medical people and a couple of strong bodies. We'll chase the aircraft while the Polar Explorer keeps running search lanes."

"And Russian surveillance? What will their intelligence analysts make of it?"

"At first they won't see it as a coincidence. They're already probably trying to paint a connection. But if, God forbid, the plane crashes, and p

roves out to be a commercial airliner, then at least you'll have a legitimate reason for turning off course to launch a rescue mission.

Afterward we resume our search pattern, fake out the Russians and gamble on turning a disaster into a windfall."

"And your helicopter flight, they'll monitor your every move."

"Al and I will use open communications and keep a running dialogue of our search for the downed mystery plane. That should pacify their suspicions."

Knight's eyes turned downward, staring at something beyond the deck.

Then he sighed and raised his head to look at Pitt.

"We're wasting time. Get your bird untied and warmed up. I'll see to the medical personnel and a team of volunteers."

Rubin made no attempt to circle the Polar Explorer because of the almost nonexistent altitude and his sad lack of flying talent. There was every chance he would stall the plane and send it cartwheeling into the rising swells.

The mere sight of the ship had ignited a small glimmer of hope in the cockpit. Now they had been sighted and rescuers would know where to look for survivors. A small comfort, but better than none at all.

The black sea abruptly turned to solid pack ice and, magmfied by starlight, whirled crazily beneath the windshield. Rubin almost felt as if he were sledding through it. With the final impact only minutes away, it finally occurred to him to order Ybarra to Turn on the landing lights.

The Mexican feverishly scanned the instrument panel, found the marked switches and flicked them to "ON." A startled polar bear was caught in the sudden glare before he vanished beneath and behind the aircraft.

They were hurtling over a dead, frozen plain,

"Mother of Jesus," murmured Ybarra. "I see hills on our right. We've crossed overland."

Luck's pendulum had finally swung in Rubin's favor. Ybarra's hills were a desolate range of mountains that swept above the jagged Greenland coast for a hundred miles in both directions. But Rubin had somehow missed them and miraculously manhandled the descending Boeing into the middle of Ardencaple Fjord, He was flying up the narrow inlet to the sea below and between the summits of steep sloping cliffs. Luck also conjured up a headwilld, which gave the aircraft added lift.

The ice seemed close enough for him to reach out and drag his hand over it. The lights reflected a kaleidoscope of shivering colors. A dark mass loomed ahead. He gently pushed the right rudder pedal and the mass slid away to his port side.

"Lower the landing gear!" Rubin shouted.

Ybarra wordlessly complied. Under normal emergency landing procedures it was the worst possible action to take, but in their ignorance they unwittingly made the correct decision for the terrain. The landing gear dropped from their wheel wells and the plane quickly lost speed due to the added wind resistance.

Rubin gripped the control wheel until his knuckles turned ivory, and he glanced down directly at the ice flashing past. The blazing crystals seemed to be rising up to meet him, spreading as they came.

Rubin closed his eyes, praying they would come down in soft snow instead of striking unyielding ice. There was nothing more he and Ybarra could do. The end was approaching with horrifying speed.