Beneath the Dark Ice by Greig Beck Read Free Book Online Page B

on his finger, but she bet he had a little army wife at home somewhere. Aimee folded her arms and stared at the tall soldier.
    Alex Hunter slowly looked over his charges. For the most part they seemed physically fit and moderately capable. His eyes were drawn to the tall woman in front of him—it had to be Dr. Aimee Weir. Her eyes bored into his with an unwavering stare; perhaps a little hostility. Good, he thought—I’ll take spirit over nice any day. As far as he was concerned, the mission started now.
    “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Captain Alex Hunter. The time is O-seven forty-five; at O-eight hundred hours we will begin briefings and final preparations—that will be for one hour only. We will then board our choppers at O-nine hundred hours for immediate dust off. It is imperative we move quickly.”
    He looked around the room and asked loudly, “Is Ms. Monica Jennings present?” Monica raised her hand and shouted a hearty “Yo,” which caused Matt to snigger.
    “Have the caving suits arrived?” Alex asked.
    “Have they ever,” replied Monica, unzipping the front of her bulky snow overalls and displaying what appeared to be a type of wetsuit. “Where did you get these, they’re unbel—”
    Alex cut her off, and spoke again in a loud and clear voice. “Everyone, please see Ms. Jennings who will distribute the caving suits. Each one has your name tag on the front and is tailored to your exact measurements. Ms. Jennings will be able to answer any questions about themin her briefing, occurring in twelve minutes. For now, carry on.”
    Alex wasn’t going to tell them too much until they were in the air or at the insertion point. The thing about civilians was that they had a tendency to want to pull out if things sounded like they were going to get a bit hot or complex, and at this point in the mission every one of their special skills was going to be needed.
    Alex had read all of their bios and the detailed mission notes from the Hammer; he already knew a lot about the team members before he had met them. Some were going take more watching than others, but for the most part they seemed physically and psychologically ready for a day under the ice.
    When Alex was a boy he remembered his father telling him that you started to feel old when policemen and teachers began to look young. Alex was still in his mid-thirties, but looking at the youthful archaeology professor, he suddenly knew what his dad had meant. Alex saw that Matt Kerns had managed to be first into his high-tech caving suit and was doing a little clowning for Monica Jenning’s benefit. Matt stood with his hands on his hips, turned and did an exaggerated walk across the hangar in a mincing, catwalk style. He looked back over his shoulder at Monica and Alex used his hypersensitive hearing to draw out the young archaeologist’s words. “Does it make my bum look big?”
    “Your bum, no. Your head, very,” Monica retorted, laughing. She walked over to him and helped tighten some loose strapping on his suit.
    Alex envied them—free to do what they wanted when they wanted. No demons of the id to hold them back. Before turning back to rejoin his men, he looked once more at Aimee Weir. He caught her looking at him before she quickly turned away.
    At O-eight hundred on the dot, Alex Hunter strode once again to the centre of the hangar. “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your full attention please. In less than sixty minutes we will be boarding the chopper out on the airfield. Our objectives are speed and invisibility; therefore we have to trade some of the comforts of flying you may be used to. The trip will be in two hops, the first to Macquarie Island, nine hundred and sixty miles to our south-south-east. It will take us approximately six hours. The island is little more than a cold dry rock, so we get to stretch our legs while refuelling and then we immediately dust off for the final hop. This last one will take us directly to our