Words cut off her recitation, coming over the general radio. “Ice station dead ahead!” the pilot reported.

“Ready for missile attack,” Craig said. “On my word.”

Missile attack? Jenny sat straighter.

“Coordinates locked.”

“Fire.”

Before she could react, a hissing explosion sounded from outside the door. A flash of flame accompanied it.

She leaned forward as the Seahawk banked into the wind.

Out the window, a spiraling trail marked the passage of a rocket. It struck the peaks to the left of the station entry. Ice and fire blasted upward and rolled out into the open ice fields. A flutter of orange, a tent, flapped up in the gale.

Jenny knew the target. It was the site from which the Russians had fired rockets at them. It seemed Craig was clearing the field to land the helicopter — and perhaps getting payback.

Under the roil of steam and smoke, the Seahawk rotored down toward the ice.

“Ready Team One!” Delta One yelled, startling Jenny.

The doors on the opposite side swung open. Winds howled into the cabin. The cold bit at her exposed flesh. Then soldiers began bailing out, rappelling down, one after the other. They zipped out of view, vanishing below in seconds.

“Team Two!”

The door on Jenny’s side swung open, and the crosswinds tore at her. Nearly losing her grip on the journal in her hand, she clutched it to her chest.

Men pushed past her, grabbing lines and leaping free as fast as the ropes themselves were unfurled. The cabin emptied out of all but three men, including Delta One.

“Man the side guns!” the leader barked.

Already in place, two soldiers swung up huge cannons by the doors.

“Strafe on my command!” Delta One ordered. “Full perimeter fire!”

Jenny risked leaning forward to stare below. The smoke from the rocket attack had begun to disperse. Below, she spotted the off-loaded men. White-camouflaged figures scurried and dropped to bellies.

“Fire!” Delta One ordered.

The guns roared, chattering, spitting fire. Spent cartridges dropped like brass rain. Below, the ice was torn apart in a wide swath around the men, protecting them.

A lone soldier, Russian, fled from a hidden bunker in the ice. He was cut in half by the gunfire, staining the ice red like a squashed bug on a windshield. There seemed to be no other survivors out on the ice.

“Take us lower,” Craig ordered the pilot, still on the general line.

The Seahawk descended, retreating slightly to put the ground forces between them and the mouth of the station.

Delta One held one of his earphones firmly to his head. “Reports coming in!” he relayed. “Surface is ours! Station’s entrance under heavy guard!”

“Is it safe to land?” Craig asked.

“I’d rather keep the bird in the air until the station is taken,” Delta One answered. “But fuel’s a concern. We’ve a long haul back to Alaska. Hold on!” He leaned into his earphone, listening. He pressed his throat mike, conversing with someone below. Finally he pulled up his radio microphone. “Sir, ground teams report movement by the station entry. Someone’s coming out. Unarmed. He’s waving a truce flag.”

“What? Already? Who is it?”

The helicopter turned as it hovered. Jenny spotted the figure a hundred yards off. He stood out against the snow, though traces of smoke still smudged across the view. He was wearing a green jacket, bright against the snow. Even across the distance, she recognized the faded coat. She had washed, mended, patched, ironed the damn thing for ten years.

She could not keep the joy and amazement from her voice. “It’s Matt!” A sob of relief followed.

The general channel was still open. Craig heard her. “Jen, are you sure?”

Delta One spoke up from across the cabin. “Sir, there’s a boy with him.”

Now brought to her attention, she saw the child clinging to Matt’s leg. He kept one arm around the boy; the other held a pole with a scrap of white parka waving from it.

“Land!” Craig ordered.

The Seahawk began its descent.

Delta One urged caution. “Perhaps we should remain airborne until the matter is cleared up.”

“He’s been sent out as an envoy. We may be able to use this to our advantage.”

Fear wormed through Jenny’s relief. Since the beginning, she and Matt had been pawns in this game between superpowers. It seemed their duty was not over yet.

The skids settled onto the ice. Snow swirled and eddied around the craft. The rotors slowed.

Delta One passed on an order to the pilot. “I want this engine kept hot.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Craig squeezed back from the cockpit into the main cabin. “We’ll leave the journals here.” He pointed at Delta One. “They’re going to be your responsibility to guard.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I’m going to meet that man out there. He’s pulled my butt out of the fire often enough. Let’s see if he can do it again.” He turned to Jenny. “I’d prefer you to stay put.”

“Like hell I will.” She unbuckled her seat harness. They’d have to shoot her to keep her here.

Craig watched her a moment, plainly judging her sincerity, then shrugged. He probably preferred all his targets together anyway.

The pair climbed out of the Seahawk and onto the ice. They ducked under the rotors and were met by a trio of Delta Force team members, who were moving forward under an armed escort.

Jenny barely noticed these others. Her eyes were on the figure standing thirty yards from the station opening. Matt! She had to restrain herself from running toward him. She feared such a sudden action would get them both shot.

So she kept to the group, flanked and led by the soldiers. They crossed the ice, passing beyond the circle of defense and out into neutral territory.

Matt was down on one knee, sheltering the boy, his attention on the child. The little guy hugged Matt. He was swaddled from head to toe in someone’s parka, wearing it like a full-length greatcoat. The sleeves hung to the ground. In Matt’s arms, he wiggled around to stare wide-eyed at the approaching party.

Jenny saw the boy’s face clearly for the first time: the black hair, the large brown eyes, the tiny features. She tripped, her legs going suddenly weak. “Tyler!”

Matt had his hands full with the boy. As soon as they had stepped out of the tunnel and into the wind, Maki had clung to him like an eel. The explosions and roar of the gunship’s 50mm weapons had already spooked the kid. And now out in the open, he acted agoraphobic, panicking at the wind and snow. Matt could guess why. He had probably spent all his young years isolated below, possibly even limited to Level Four. Here in the open, with the entire world spread out around him, he came unhinged.

He needed something to cling to, an anchor — and that was Matt.

Matt hardly noted the approach of the others. He had spotted Craig among the soldiers, then had to keep Maki from bolting back toward the station.

“Tyler!”

The familiar cry tore him around.

From out of the group of soldiers, Jenny shoved free. Her eyes were wild, but she quickly collected herself as she stepped out. She recognized her mistake as soon as she uttered it. Pure reflex, Matt understood.

“His…his name’s Maki,” Matt gasped out as he stood. The child clung to his knee, but Matt didn’t object this time. His legs weak from the relief of seeing Jenny alive, he needed the boy’s support now.

She rushed at him.

Matt didn’t know what to expect, cringing slightly at her approach.

Then she was in his arms, pulling tight to him, her own arms around his neck. It came so naturally that it surprised Matt. She fit to him, as if she always belonged there. It was as if no time had passed between them at all. Drawing Jenny even tighter to him to make sure it wasn’t all a dream, he smelled her hair, the nape of her neck. She was real…she was in his arms.