'I've hunted some."
Pitt took him by the arm. "Clayton, my friend, you are a gift from the gods."
Clayton Findley did indeed prove to be a godsend.
While Hollis bnefed his men inside an unused warehouse, Pitt, Gunn and Giordino helped Findley sculpt a diorama of Santa Inez Island from mud scooped beside the airport's runway on an old Ping-Pong table. He refreshed his memory of what he'd forgottened from Pitts nautical chart.
He hardened the miniature landscape with a portable heater and highlighted the features with cans of spray paint scrounged by one of Hollis's men. Gray for the rocky terrain, white for the snow and ice of the glacier. He even molded a scale model of the Lady Flamborough and set it at the foot of the glacier. At last he stood back and admired his handiwork.
"That," he said confidently, "is Santa Inez."
Hollis interrupted his briefing and gathered his men around the table.
Everyone stared at the diorama in thoughtful silence for a few moments.
The island was shaped like the center piece of a jigsaw puzzle produced by a drunken cutter. The ragged shoreline was a mine of spurs and hooks, gashed by barbed fjords and gnarled bays. It backed on the Straits of MageUan to the east and faced the Pacific Ocean to the west.
It was dead ground, not fit for a graveyard, 65 kilometers wide by 95
kilometers in length and peaked by Mount Wharton 1,320 meters high.
Beaches and flat ground were virtually nonexistent. The lowlying mountains rose like rockbound ships, their steep slopes falling in forlorn agony to meet the cold sea.
The ancient glacier sat like a saddle on the island. It was the result of cold and overcast summers that did not melt the ice. Barren escarpments of solid rock flanked the frigid mass, standing in sullen silence as the glacier gouged its irresistible passage toward the water where it calved section after section the way a butcher slices sausage.
Few areas of the world were more hostile to man. The entire island chain of the Magellans was uninhabited by permanent settlers. Through the centuries, men had come and gone leaving behind wrathful names like Break Neck Peninsula, Deceit Island, Calamity Bay, Desolation Isle and Port Famine. It was a hard place. The only vegetation that survived was stunted, twisted evergreens that merged with kind of a scrubby heath.
Findley swept a hand over the model. "Imagine a barren landscape with snow at the higher altitudes, and you pretty much get a picture of the real thing."
Hollis nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Findley. We're much obliged."
"Glad to help."
"All right, let's get down to the hard facts. Major Dillenger will lead the air-drop force, while I'll be in command of the dive team."
Hollis paused briefly to scan the faces of his men. They were lean, hard, purposeful-looking men dressed entirely in black. They were a tough breed of fighters who had survived torturous survival training to earn the distinction of serving with the elite Special Operations Force.
A hell of a team, Hollis thought proudly to himself. The best in the world.
"We've trained long and hard for ship seizures at night," he continued.
"But none where we've given away so many advantages to the enemy. We lack critical intelligence information, the weather conditions are miserable, and we're faced with a glacier that can shatter at any minute. Perplexing problems, tough problems that stand in the way of success. Before we launch our assault in a few hours, we want as many answers as possible. If you see a grave flaw in the operation, sing out. So let's begin."
"Island inhabitants?" Dillenger asked Findley straight away.
"None after we closed the mine."
"Weather conditions?"
"Rains almost constantly It's one of the most heavily watered regions on the continent. You rarely see the sun. Temperatures this time of year run a few degrees below freezing. winds are constant and can get violent at times. The willdchill factor is a bitch, and it's almost certain to be raining."
Dillenger gave Hollis a grave look. "We don't stand a prayer of a pinpoint air drop at night."
Hollis appeared grim. "We'll have to go in with the minichoppers and scale down with ropes."
"You brought helicopters?" asked Gunn incredulously. "I didn't think they had the speed and range-2'
-To fly this far so fast," Hollis finished. "Their military designation has too many letters and digits to memorize. We call them Carrier Pigeons. Small, compact, they carry a pilot in an enclosed cockpit and two men on the outside. Comes equipped with an infrared dome and silenced tail rotors. They can be broken down or assembled in fifteen minutes. One of our C-140s can transport six of them."