IDs.
âThe Parkers are now the McKay family,â she said. âIâm Theresa.â
Darrell whipped his passport open. âAre you kidding me?â
Wade peeked over his shoulder. âRobin? Wow, bro, Iâm sorry. Iâm Ross. Robin and Ross. I kinda like Ross better.â
Darrell hid the passport in his jeans. âWe shall never speak of this again.â
âKids, be alert,â Sara said.
Roald cautiously gathered them, and they hurried through the terminal and out onto the streets. Amid the bright glow and warmth of the blue coast, a kind of darkness seemed to pursue them like a cold, pale shadow.
C HAPTER E LEVEN
Novaya Zemlya, Kara Sea, Russia
June 4
Late morning
K onradin Ivanov hoisted his binoculars, looked out across the frozen sea, and wondered if he was alive. But how would he know? Being stationed in Novaya Zemlya froze the body and deadened the soul. He could have died weeks ago and not noticed.
Novaya Zemlya. The southernmost tip of the narrow crescent of earth was four hundred and fifty kilometers north of the Arctic Circle. Add another five hundred kilometers to get to where Konradin was now, and you were in a place that was useless,mindless, pathetically isolated, and stupid.
The Kara Sea surrounding it lay unthawed. It had been a bitterly cold spring, so even in June the sea around it was still a continent of ice. And yet he had received the sudden command: Do it now.
Annoying. But profitable. He and his men stood to make hundreds of thousands of rubles each for finding what the Order wanted. Luckily, he and Vitaly had anticipated something of the sort and arranged for an old ice drill to be delivered from Murmansk last week. It stood behind him now, groaning like a dying monster, waiting to chew up the frozen sea.
Wearing a thick polar anorak with a fur-lined hood, Konradin braced himself out of the wind, against a hut made of corrugated steel panels. Through his large pair of binoculars he scanned and scanned.
âAnything?â It was Vitaly Dershenko, like him a good soldier, also huddling pathetically from the cold, also dreaming of a big payday.
âSoon, Vitaly.â Konradin spat, and the mucus froze on its way down and shattered into crystalsâ clink âon the ground at his feet. Just like in the tales of the Gulag. Not much had changed in seventy-five years.
âWhen we find it, are you going out to it?â Vitaly asked.
âI have to. The little German, von Braun, sent the order to me personally.â
âPoor Konradin.â
âAnd poor Vitaly. Youâre coming with me.â
It was Vitalyâs turn to spit. Clink.
The whole thing made him ill. Poison lurked beneath that frozen sea out there. The great Soviet nuclear test site that had become the great Soviet nuclear dumping ground.
âThere?â said Vitaly, pointing his padded leather mitten due east.
Konradin adjusted the distance meter on his binoculars, and now, yes, he could see it. A faint vertical rod protruding from the ice a kilometer or so from shore.
âYou always had good eyes, Vitaly.â
Konradin turned and waved his hand. The monstrous engine behind him sent out a cough of smoke. Hiking up to the drillâs cabin, he showed the driver where to go, gave him coordinates. Vitaly joined him in the cabin. The ground shook as the drill crawled like an enormous insect down to the shore, a half-dozen men with hand picks following on snowmobiles. The caravan moved slowly over the frozen sea to the spot and stopped. Konradin climbed down from the cabin with Vitaly, pointed to the ice, and waved to the driver. Thedrill lowered its head. The great shaft of steel met the surface of the ice and began to grind into it.
One hour later, the drill had struck steel. As the drill withdrew, Konradin sent a video camera down the shaft on a long wire. He turned the wire slowly, then pulled it back up. He replayed the video, pausing it fourteen seconds in.
The
âThe Parkers are now the McKay family,â she said. âIâm Theresa.â
Darrell whipped his passport open. âAre you kidding me?â
Wade peeked over his shoulder. âRobin? Wow, bro, Iâm sorry. Iâm Ross. Robin and Ross. I kinda like Ross better.â
Darrell hid the passport in his jeans. âWe shall never speak of this again.â
âKids, be alert,â Sara said.
Roald cautiously gathered them, and they hurried through the terminal and out onto the streets. Amid the bright glow and warmth of the blue coast, a kind of darkness seemed to pursue them like a cold, pale shadow.
C HAPTER E LEVEN
Novaya Zemlya, Kara Sea, Russia
June 4
Late morning
K onradin Ivanov hoisted his binoculars, looked out across the frozen sea, and wondered if he was alive. But how would he know? Being stationed in Novaya Zemlya froze the body and deadened the soul. He could have died weeks ago and not noticed.
Novaya Zemlya. The southernmost tip of the narrow crescent of earth was four hundred and fifty kilometers north of the Arctic Circle. Add another five hundred kilometers to get to where Konradin was now, and you were in a place that was useless,mindless, pathetically isolated, and stupid.
The Kara Sea surrounding it lay unthawed. It had been a bitterly cold spring, so even in June the sea around it was still a continent of ice. And yet he had received the sudden command: Do it now.
Annoying. But profitable. He and his men stood to make hundreds of thousands of rubles each for finding what the Order wanted. Luckily, he and Vitaly had anticipated something of the sort and arranged for an old ice drill to be delivered from Murmansk last week. It stood behind him now, groaning like a dying monster, waiting to chew up the frozen sea.
Wearing a thick polar anorak with a fur-lined hood, Konradin braced himself out of the wind, against a hut made of corrugated steel panels. Through his large pair of binoculars he scanned and scanned.
âAnything?â It was Vitaly Dershenko, like him a good soldier, also huddling pathetically from the cold, also dreaming of a big payday.
âSoon, Vitaly.â Konradin spat, and the mucus froze on its way down and shattered into crystalsâ clink âon the ground at his feet. Just like in the tales of the Gulag. Not much had changed in seventy-five years.
âWhen we find it, are you going out to it?â Vitaly asked.
âI have to. The little German, von Braun, sent the order to me personally.â
âPoor Konradin.â
âAnd poor Vitaly. Youâre coming with me.â
It was Vitalyâs turn to spit. Clink.
The whole thing made him ill. Poison lurked beneath that frozen sea out there. The great Soviet nuclear test site that had become the great Soviet nuclear dumping ground.
âThere?â said Vitaly, pointing his padded leather mitten due east.
Konradin adjusted the distance meter on his binoculars, and now, yes, he could see it. A faint vertical rod protruding from the ice a kilometer or so from shore.
âYou always had good eyes, Vitaly.â
Konradin turned and waved his hand. The monstrous engine behind him sent out a cough of smoke. Hiking up to the drillâs cabin, he showed the driver where to go, gave him coordinates. Vitaly joined him in the cabin. The ground shook as the drill crawled like an enormous insect down to the shore, a half-dozen men with hand picks following on snowmobiles. The caravan moved slowly over the frozen sea to the spot and stopped. Konradin climbed down from the cabin with Vitaly, pointed to the ice, and waved to the driver. Thedrill lowered its head. The great shaft of steel met the surface of the ice and began to grind into it.
One hour later, the drill had struck steel. As the drill withdrew, Konradin sent a video camera down the shaft on a long wire. He turned the wire slowly, then pulled it back up. He replayed the video, pausing it fourteen seconds in.
The
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