White Death

"They're going to drown us!"

Marcus and Chuck had seen the barge as well, and at her words, they struggled against their captors. All they got for their trouble were club blows that took the fight out of them. Rough hands grabbed Therri and pushed her onto the barge. She stumbled and crashed onto the deck. She managed to twist her body so that she didn't come down face first on the hard surface, and most of the shock was absorbed at great painful cost by her right arm. Her knee hurt like hell, too. She didn't have time to dwell on her injuries. Duct tape was slapped across her mouth so she couldn't cry out. Then her ankles were bound, a heavy weight was tied onto her wrist bindings, and she was dragged along to the end of the barge and stretched crosswise across the belt.

She felt another, smaller body against hers. She looked over, and to her horror she saw that the next victim in line was Rachael, the lit- tle girl she had befriended. Then came the SOS men and the other prisoners. The preparations for multiple murder went on until all the prisoners were laid across the belt like cordwood. Then the barge's inboard motors rumbled into life.

The lines were cast off the pier and the barge began to move. Therri couldn't see where they were going, but she managed to turn to face the child and tried to comfort the girl with her eyes, although she was sure they were filled with terror. In the distance, she could see the light from the dome rising above the trees, as Barker had promised. She vowed that if she ever got the chance, she would kill him personally.

The motors went for only a short while, then they cut out and there was the splash of an anchor in the water. Therri struggled against her bindings, to no avail. She tensed, preparing for the worst. It came a minute later, when the motor that powered the conveyor belt started. The belt began to move, carrying her closer to the lip of the chute and to the cold dark water beyond.

36

AUSTIN HAD LED his ragtag assault group through the woods, skirting the darkened plaza, using the dimly lit footpath visible through the trees as a rough guide. He moved slowly and with great deliberation, making sure his path was free of twigs and branches before he put his full weight on his advancing foot.

The slow pace was maddening, but while they had seen no one since encountering the guard, Austin had the creepy feeling that they were not alone. His instincts were vindicated when the airship dome lit up like a giant lightbulb and a low roar arose from the plaza.

Austin and the others froze like living statues. Then a delayed re- action set in and they hit the ground belly-first, their weapons cocked and ready to repel an assault. The hail of bullets they expected never came. Instead, the roar grew in intensity and volume and flowed around them in a vast rushing river of sound. The noise came from the mouths of hundreds ofKiolya men, their broad, upturned faces cast in bluish light, zombie eyes transfixed on Barker, who stood on a raised dais in front of the dome.

Then came the monotonous chorus of a dozen tom-toms ringinp- in the plaza, and the crowd began to chant:

"Toonook… Toonook… Toonook…"

Barker bathed in the adulation, letting it wash over him, drink- ing it in as if it were an elixir before he raised his arms to the sky. Then the chanting and the drumbeat stopped as if a switch had been pulled. Barker began to speak in a strange tongue that had its origins beyond the far reaches of the aurora borealis. He started speaking slowly, his voice growing in power.

Zavala crawled up beside Austin. "What's going on?"

"Looks like our friend is having a high school pep rally."

"Ugh. Those cheerleaders wouldn't win any beauty contests," Zavala said.

Austin stared through the trees, mesmerized by the barbaric spec- tacle. As Ben had said, the dome actually did resemble a huge igloo. Barker was doing them a favor by whipping his gang of cutthroats into a murderous frenzy. With all its attention focused on their leader, Barker's private army would hardly notice a handful of intruders sneaking through the woods. Austin scrambled to his feet and sig- naled to the others to do the same. Crouching low, they made their way through the forest until at last they broke into the open at the edge of the lake.

The area around the dock seemed to be deserted. Austin assumed that all of Barker's men had been summoned back to the big igloo for their leader's command performance. He wasn't about to take any chances, though. The shed near the dock was large enough to har- bor dozens of assassins. He edged along one side of the building and peered around the corner. The shed's twin doors facing the water were wide open, as if the last person out had been in a hurry.

With Zavala and the Basques keeping watch, Austin stepped in- side and flashed his light around. The shed was empty, except for some lines, anchors, buoys and other boating paraphernalia. After a quick glance around, he was about to leave, when Ben, who had fol- lowed him inside, said, "Wait."

The Indian pointed to the concrete floor. All Austin saw were mounds of dirt tracked in by those using the building. Ben got down on one knee, and with his finger, traced the small footprint of a child. Austin's eyes hardened, and he strode back outside to find Zavala and the Aguirrez brothers staring at some lights that were moving in the lake. Austin thought he heard the sound of a motor. He couldn't be sure, because the sound of Barker's voice was still being carried on the wind. He reached into his pack and pulled out a pair of night- vision goggles, which he put to his eyes. "It's some sort of boat. Square-built with low sides."

He handed the goggles to Ben, who peered through the lenses and said, "That's the catamaran I saw the first time I was here."

"I don't recall you mentioning it."

"Sorry. There was so much happening that night. When Josh Green and I brought my canoe in, we saw it tied up to the dock. Didn't seem important at the time."

"It could be very important. Tell me about it."

Ben shrugged. "I'd say it was more than fifty feet long. Kind of a barge, but with a catamaran hull. A conveyor belt a couple of yards across ran down the center from a big bin at the bow back to the stern, which slopes down. We figured it was used to feed the fish."

"Feed the fish," Austin murmured.

"You remember what I told you about the fish cages I saw."

Austin wasn't thinking about fish in cages. Ben's words had con- jured up the Mafia cliche associated with concrete overshoes and a trip to the bottom of the East River. He cursed as he recalled the nasty habit that had got the Kiolya in trouble with its neighbor tribes. Barker had cooked up a mass human sacrifice to go along with his send-off.

Austin trotted to the end of the dock. He stopped and squinted through the night-vision goggles again. With Ben's description run- ning through his mind, he had a better understanding of what he was seeing. The low-slung craft was moving slowly and had almost reached the middle of the lake. In the illumination cast by the run- ning lights, he could see people moving around the deck. He couldn't tell what they were up to, but he had a good idea.

Pablo had followed him. "What is it?" he said, looking out at the lights reflected in the water.

"Trouble," Austin replied. "Call in the SeaCobra."

Pablo undipped the radio from his belt and barked an order in Spanish.

"They're on their way," he said. "What do you want them to do when they get here?"

"Tell them to thaw out that big igloo for starters."