Arctic Fire (42 page)

He paced back and forth, staring at the
corkboard insulation on the walls and floor, racking his brain for
an idea. He knew that the next time the guard came in he would be
wary, expecting something to be up. He looked up again and saw that
a small section of the corkboard had peeled away when the guard
ripped down the tarp.

Pike began to pace faster now; an idea beginning
to form. The guard would be suspicious now and he could use that.
He nodded now, his brain moving at full speed even if his body
wasn’t. This could work, it had to work. The only question now was
did he have the time?

Pike worked as fast as his broken body would go
and after nearly an hour and a half, he was finally done. He
collapsed in the chair, he was going to relax for a few minutes
before he called the guard back but suddenly he heard the key in
the lock.

Panic washed over him as he looked around the
room. Was he ready? Did he have everything in place? He wanted to
scream, I’M NOT READY YET! But instead, he sat silently in the
chair and put on his winning poker face.

The door flung open but instead of a rushing
guard filling the doorway, it was empty. Pike fought the urge to
yell hello and just sat quietly. A moment later the guard
appeared.

“Can’t be too carful now can we? I told Mr. Cain
about your little trick and he told me to keep an eye on you, that
you’re a real crafty one,” he said, wearing a devilish grin. “Like
they say, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.
And no one makes a fool out of me.” The devilish grin turned into a
hateful leer.

“Come on
Hot Shot
,” he smirked, “Ms.
Mallory said you liked to be called that.”

Pike want to jump up and rip the smugness off
the man’s face, no, pound it off, but nothing would be served if he
didn’t stick to his plan. He was the one in control here, not the
guard. Refusing to take the bait, Pike remained silent and
still.

Seeing no reaction from his jab, the guard
walked in. He was eight feet away from Pike when he suddenly
stopped. “What’s this?” he said and he bent down, still keeping a
watchful eye on his prisoner. He was looking at a thin wire running
three inches above the floor. Examining it, he traced one end wire
that was attached to the left wall and the other end was wrapped
around the leg of the ladder that was leaning against the right
wall.

“What were you planning on doing, crushing me to
death under the weight of a stepladder? Guess you’re not as clever
as Mr. Cain gave you credit for,” he laughed.

Pike remained impassive in his chair, not
showing any disappointment in his trap being discovered. The guard
just shook his head, unimpressed with his prisoner’s meager escape
attempt. He carefully raised his right foot over the wire and was
about to put it down when he suddenly stopped, a coy grin forming
on his face.

He brought his foot back over the wire then
knelt down and examined the floor. The corkboard on the walls came
in four-foot wide rolls that were simply unrolled and attached to
the wall like paneling. The floor covering however, was a little
thicker and came in one-foot squares that were laid down like
tile.

“Maybe you are a little brighter than I
thought,” he said, standing back up. “But you should have taken
more time to lay the squares back down the way they were after you
dug them up.”

This time Pike couldn’t hide his
disappointment.

“First you try to ambush me with a ladder and
now you booby-trap the floor? What, did you manage to dig a hole in
the ice and hope I’d step over the wire and break my ankle? What do
you think I am, stupid,
Mr. Hot Shot?
Mr. Cain said I
couldn’t kill you, but he didn’t say anything about not hurting
you.”

Wearing a self-satisfying, triumphant grin, the
guard stepped over the wire and over the suspect panels. His smile
grew even bigger as his foot touched down on the other side on a
solid floor. For effect, the guard puffed himself up to his full
height, glaring down at Pike as he locked his fingers and cracked
his knuckles. “This is going to be fun,” he said, with a humorless
smile.

He took another step forward and suddenly the
smugness on his face fell away, following the rest of his body. He
cried out in pain as his right foot punched through the thin
corkboard tile and his leg fell into a 15-inch deep hole Pike had
dug out of the ice. As he fell, with one fluid motion Pike sprang
out of the chair and released a kick that any Radio City Rockette
would be proud of.

The guard’s head snapped back and Pike heard
with great satisfaction a loud crack as his foot connected with its
target. The force of the kick flipped the guard over, landing him
on his stomach , facing the door. He groaned and struggled to prop
himself up on one elbow but was quickly silenced as Pike grabbed
the chair and hit him over the head with it, denting the chair.

Pike stood triumphantly over the guard like an
ancient warrior over his vanquished foe. Pike’s chest heaved,
adrenaline coursing through his body as he looked down at the
guard. “And as a matter of fact, yes, I do think you’re stupid.” He
said, then let out a muffled yell, then kicked the man in the side.
He knew he shouldn’t have but it seemed like the thing to do at the
time, his muscles protested at the kick, but it still felt good
nonetheless. HOT SHOT!

He stood there for a minute, letting his
pounding heart return to normal, letting his mind clear. Thinking
more like himself now instead of Conan the Barbarian, he quickly
laid out one of the plastic sheets on the ground, then dragged the
guard over and wrapped him in it like he was making a burrito. When
he was done, he grabbed the roll of duct tape out of the tool box,
tightly wrapped the guard’s feet, put several strands around his
shoulders securing his arms then wrapped one long piece around his
head, covering the guard’s mouth.

He then dragged the guard over and placed him
behind the ice holes, then replaced the cork tiles and reset his
booby trap. Pike shrugged his shoulders; you never know, I might
get lucky and get two birds with one stone, he thought.

Earlier, he had cut up one of the canvas tarps
into long strips using a Stanley knife he’d found in the toolbox
and had twisted the strips into a makeshift rope. He grabbed the
ropes he had hidden under the plastic and threw the coils over his
shoulders like a mountaineer and headed out the door.

He rounded the corner and going straight to the
escape hatch, grabbed the sledgehammer off the wall. With swings
worthy of the great Babe Ruth, he punched through the thin ice with
just five strikes. Immediately he was hit with a blast of cold
arctic air and a shiver ran down his spine. He hadn’t noticed just
how much he’d been sweating until the cool air hit him. The sides
of the ship were still nearly six feet thick at this point of the
hull, so he had to crawl through a short tunnel to get to the
outside.

Pike popped his head out into the night air and
looked around. He was about eight feet above the waterline, which
meant he was about twenty feet below the main deck. A quarter-moon
cast just enough light to see that the ocean was flat and the winds
felt calm.

Looking forward, he could see the lights of the
Rachel B.
as she struggled ahead with her massive burden.
But what really caught his attention was what was beyond the stout
tug. He could see patches of light on the horizon, glowing faintly
like embers from a dying campfire. They were the shimmering lights
of the big cities on the eastern seaboard and the brightest beacon
was New York. Time was running out.

Chapter Forty
Six

With a new sense of urgency, Pike took stock of
his situation. Looking around, he guessed he was just below the VIP
living quarters. Right outside their door, the VIPs had a large
outdoor commons where they could enjoy the fresh air and do a
little sightseeing.

He ducked his head back inside, took the rope
off his shoulder and tied it around the handle. His plan was to use
the hammer as a grappling hook, catch it on the railing then pull
himself up. He just hoped that no one was outside enjoying the
scenery.

Lying on his back, he scooted out as far as he
dared, looking up at the railing. Listening carefully he couldn’t
hear any conversations coming from the deck above so he started
swinging the rope like a lasso.

His first attempt went straight up in the air
and came straight back down, nearly hitting him on the head. He
wondered how the cowboys made this look so easy. Roy Rogers he
wasn’t. The second throw was better, landing just shy of the bottom
of the railing. The third attempt met with the same results but on
his fourth toss, he heard a clank and the hammer didn’t fall back
down.

Excited, he gently pulled on the rope to set the
hammer. When the line went taunt he slowly pulled harder, making
sure the line was secure. With one last tug, he eased himself out
of the tunnel, pulling himself up with the rope. Slowly and
deliberately he placed one foot against the side of the hull, then
hoisted himself up and planted his other foot.

Taking tiny, deliberate steps so as not to slip,
his progress was slow and tiring as he pulled himself along.
Panting heavily halfway up, he vowed that if he survived, he would
cut back on the mochas and the Kripsy Kreams and use his exercise
bike in the spare room for something more than just hanging his
laundry on.

Ten feet from the top, Pike heard a noise.
Looking up, he saw a pair of arms magically appear and come to rest
on the railing. He couldn’t see the face but the arms belonged to a
blonde wearing a heavy, dark overcoat. She had a distant look as
she gazed out over the ocean and though he couldn’t see her
expression clearly, the shadows from the moonlight seemed to cast a
sad light on her face.

He stared at her intently for a moment and
thought she looked like Tabatha but couldn’t be sure. Should he
call out to her for help? Could he trust her? Sadly he shook his
head because he knew he couldn’t; he just didn’t know how much she
had sold out to Mallory. He wrapped the rope around his arm several
times then lowered his feet and hung by his arms, pressing himself
against the side of the iceberg. One thing for sure was that if she
looked down, he was done for.

“You’re up late.” Pike heard a male voice say.
Pike shook his head in frustration. What, are they having
convention? It’s freezing out here people, take it inside, he
shouted in his head.

“Man, that was some story we broke huh?” He
heard the man continue.

“Yes it was, Pete.” The woman replied.

Pike mentally snapped his fingers. It was
Tabatha and she was talking to Toupee Man, Peter Wright! He let out
a small sigh of relief that he didn’t trust her and call out, it
sounded like these two were working together. He looked up and saw
that she had turned around to face him. Thank the Lord for small
favors, he whispered.

“That story will flash around the world before
we even reach New York. Can you believe our luck catching Pike
red-handed standing over the Senator with a knife in his hand?”

“Yeah, pretty lucky.” Tabatha’s reply was flat
and emotionless.

Pike could hear the smug arrogance in Wright’s
voice but he heard no joy in Tabatha’s, instead he heard more doubt
than triumph.

“Doesn’t it seem odd that we just happened to
walk in at exactly the right moment with our cameras rolling?” She
questioned. Pike nodded; it sounded like she wasn’t buying
everything Mallory had told her.

“Hey, I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.
If lady luck wants to smile on me, who am I to question? Speaking
of luck,” Pike heard Wright moved closer, then saw him lean against
the railing with his back facing the water. “You were pretty lucky
yourself tonight, catching the story with me. You know,” he said,
moving closer to her, “I can help you in your career.”

“Oh please,” Tabatha replied. Pike couldn’t see
her face but having known her for just this short a time, a smile
crossed his lips as he could just image her rolling her eyes at him
with a sarcastic give-me-a-break look.

Pike heard a scuffle as Wright reached over and
grabbed her in his arms. “Listen Tabby,” he said forcefully, “I’ve
been making and breaking cub reporters like you for longer than
you’ve been alive. You want me as your friend, not your enemy.”

“I don’t want you at all.” Tabatha answered.
Pike heard a grunt then saw Wright collapse to his knees and a
second later, something hit Pike in the face. He had to stifle his
laughter as he saw that it was Wright’s own toupee! Tabatha had
kneed her esteemed colleague in the groin then ripped off his
hairpiece and thrown it at him. Pike smiled; he still didn’t know
if he could trust her but he had to admire her style. He heard her
storm across the plaza then heard the door slam. A few minutes
later he heard Wright shuffle to the door and enter quietly.

Pike felt like a slab of beef hanging from a
butcher’s hook, his arms aching beyond belief. With the drama gone,
he carefully he got his feet back onto the iceberg and painfully
pulled himself up the rest of the way.

With a desperate swipe of his arm, he reached up
and grabbed the stanchion and just held himself there, too weak to
pull himself up. Summoning his last ounce of strength, he swung his
leg up over the side and rolled under the wire railing.
Half-walking, half crawling, he made his way to the corner of the
building and collapsed behind a small forest of potted trees.

His arms and shoulders were on fire, from the
pain, and his legs felt like rubber. He knew he didn’t have much
time but he had to rest. After a very short ten minutes of rest, it
was time to move. He had to get to the one place where they would
never think to look for him, but the only trouble was is that it
was on the other side of the iceberg. It would be too risky to go
inside, so his only other option was to go up onto the roof.