"As far as I can tell, the scientists and most of the crew are unharmed," Pitt answered. "The part of the ship in which they're riding out the fight is still untouched."
"Some fight," muttered Cox through a bleeding lip. "We can't even throw snowballs."
The sky tore apart again. An armor-piercing shell ripped through the hull and passed through the engine room, shearing electrical cables and fuel lines before crashing out the other side without exploding.
None of the engine room crew was injured, but the damage was done, the big diesel engines lost their revolutions and quietly turned to a stop.
"That last hit cut and burst the fuel lines," the chief engineer's voice shouted out over the speaker.
"Can you make repairs?" asked Cox desperately.
"I can."
"How long will you need?"
"Two, maybe three, hours."
Cox looked at Pitt, who turned and stared at the U-boat. " We've bought the farm," Cox said.
"It looks that way" Pitt's voice was grave. "They can sit there and blast away at us until there's nothing but a hole in the ice. You'd better give the order to abandon ship, Dan. Maybe some of the crew and scientists can make it across the floe to the mainland and hold out in the ice cave until help arrives."
Gillespie wiped a stream of blood from his cheek and nodded. "Ira, please hand me the ship's phone."
Pitt stepped defeatedly onto the bridge wing, which looked as if it had been mangled by a scrapyard auto crusher. He gazed astern toward the Stars and Stripes, which flew defiantly. Then he looked up at the turquoise NUMA ensign that flapped in ragged concert with the breeze. Finally, he refocused his attention on the U-boat. He saw the muzzle of the deck gun flash and heard the shell shriek between the radar mast and the demolished funnel, dropping and exploding in the ice one hundred yards beyond. It was, Pitt knew, a minor reprieve.
Then a flash out of the corner of one eye and a quick glance past the U-boat. Abruptly, he exhaled a breath as a wild wave of relief swept over him at seeing a tiny trail of white smoke and flame against a blue sky.
Ten miles away, a surface-to-surface missile burst through the ice floe, arched above the horizon, reached its zenith, and then plunged unerringly downward toward the U-boat. One moment the sub was floating in the ice. The next, it was enveloped in a tremendous burst of orange, red, and yellow flame that mushroomed high into the gray overcast. The U-boat's hull split in two, the stern and bow rising skyward independent of each other. Amidships, there was a great maelstrom of fire and smoke. There was a billowing cloud of steam as a final stab of flame gushed across the ice. Then she slid under and fell to the bottom.
It all happened so quickly, Pitt could hardly believe his eyes. "She's gone," he muttered in astonishment.
The stunned silence that followed the demise of the U-boat was broken by a voice over the speaker.
"Polar Storm, do you read me?"
Pitt snatched up the radio phone. "We read you, Good Samaritan."
"This is Captain Evan Cunningham, commander of the United States nuclear attack boat Tucson.
Sorry we could not have arrived sooner."
" `Better late than never' certainly applies in this case," replied Pitt. "Can you loan us your damage-control crew? We're in a bad way."
"Are you taking on water?"
"No, but we're pretty much of a mess topside, and the engine room took a hit."
"Stand by to take on a boarding crew. We'll be alongside in twenty minutes."
"Champagne and caviar will be waiting."
"Where did they come from?" asked a stunned Cox.
"Admiral Sandecker," answered Pitt. "He must have leaned on the naval chief of staff."
"Now that the U-boat is no longer jamming. . . our satellite signals," said Gillespie haltingly, "I suggest you call the admiral. He'll want a report on our damage and casualties."
Cox was tending to Bushey, who appeared to be regaining consciousness. "I'll take care of it," Pitt assured the captain. "Rest easy until we get you to sick bay and the doctor can work on you."