Deception Point Page 46

Delta-One had now finished packing snow down the womans throat. Before turning his attention to the others, Delta-One unhooked the womans belay harness. He could reconnect it later, exactly at the moment, he did not want the two people behind the sled getting motifs ab knocked out(p) pulling his victim to safety.Michael Tolland had just witnessed a homicidal act more bizarre than his darkest foreland could imagine. Having cut Norah Mangor free, the three tryers were turning their attention to Corky.Ive got to do somethingCorky had come to and was moaning, trying to sit up, still mavin of the soldiers pushed him back down on his back, straddled him, and pinned Corkys arms to the ice by kneeling on them. Corky let out a cry of pain that was at present swallowed up by the raging wind.In a kind of demented terror, Tolland tore through the scattered contents of the overturned sled. There must be something here A weapon Something All he saw was diagnostic ice gear, most of it smashe d beyond recognition by the ice pellets. Beside him, Rachel groggily well-tried to sit up, using her ice ax to prop herself up. Run Mike Tolland eyed the ax that was strapped to Rachels wrist. It could be a weapon. Sort of. Tolland wondered what his chances were attacking three build up men with a tiny ax.Suicide.As Rachel rolled and sat up, Tolland spied something behind her. A bulky vinyl base of operations. Praying against fate that it contained a flare gun or radio, he clambered past her and grabbed the bag. Inside he found a large, neatly folded sheet of Mylar fabric. Worthless. Tolland had something similar on his research ship. It was a small weather balloon, designed to carry payloads of observational weather gear not much heavier than a personal computer. Norahs balloon would be no help here, particularly without a helium tank.With the growing sounds of Corkys struggle, Tolland felt a helpless sensation he had not felt in years. Total despair. Total loss. kindred the cl iche of ones life passing game before ones eyes before death, Tollands mind flashed unexpectedly through long forgotten childhood images. For an instant he was sailing in San Pedro, learning the outmoded sailors pastime of spinnaker-flying-hanging on a knotted rope, suspended over the ocean, plunging laughing into the water, rising and falling like a kid hanging on a belfry rope, his fate determined by a billowing spinnaker sail and the whim of the ocean breeze.Tollands eyes instantly snapped back to the Mylar balloon in his hand, realizing that his mind had not been surrendering, but rather it had been trying to remind him of a solution Spinnaker flying.Corky was still struggling against his captor as Tolland pulled open the protective bag around the balloon. Tolland had no illusions that this plan was anything other than a long shot, but he knew remaining here was certain death for all of them. He clutched the folded galvanic pile of Mylar. The payload clip warned CAUTION NOT F OR USE IN WINDS OVER 10 KNOTS.The hell with that Gripping it hard to keep it from unfurling, Tolland clambered over to Rachel, who was propped on her side. He could see the confusion in her eyes as he nestled close, yelling, Hold thisTolland handed Rachel the folded pad of fabric and then used his free work force to slip the balloons payload clasp through one of the carabiners on his harness. Then, rolling on his side, he slipped the clasp through one of Rachels carabiners as well.Tolland and Rachel were now one. united at the hip.From between them, the loose tether trailed off across the snow to the struggling Corky and ten yards farther to the empty clip beside Norah Mangor.Norah is already gone, Tolland told himself. goose egg you can do.The attackers were crouched over Corkys writhing body now, packing a handful of snow, and preparing to stuff it down Corkys throat. Tolland knew they were almost out of time.Tolland grabbed the folded balloon from Rachel. The fabric was as agi lity as tissue paper-and virtually indestructible. Here goes nothing. Hold onMike? Rachel said. What-Tolland hurled the pad of wadded Mylar into the air over their heads. The howling wind snatched it up and spread it out like a parachute in a hurricane. The sheath filled instantly, billowing open with a loud snap.Tolland felt a wrenching yank on his harness, and he knew in an instant he had grossly underestimated the power of the katabatic wind. Within a fraction of a second, he and Rachel were half airborne, organism dragged down the glacier. A moment later, Tolland felt a jerk as his tether drew taut on Corky Marlinson. Twenty yards back, his terrified trembler was yanked out from under his stunned attackers, sending one of them tumbling backward. Corky let out a blood-curdling scream as he too accelerate across the ice, barely missing the overturned sled, then fishtailing inward. A second rope trailed limp beside Corky the rope that had been connected to Norah Mangor.Nothing you can do, Tolland told himself.Like a tangled mass of human marionettes, the three bodies skimmed down the glacier. Ice pellets went sailing by, but Tolland knew the attackers had missed their chance. Behind him, the white-clad soldiers faded away, shrinking to lighted specks in the glow of the flares.Tolland now felt the ice ripping beneath his padded suit with relentless acceleration, and the relief at having escaped faded fast. less(prenominal) than two miles directly ahead of them, the Milne Ice Shelf came to an abrupt end at a precipitous cliff-and beyond it a hundred-foot drop to the lethal pound sign surf of the Arctic Ocean.52Marjorie Tench was smiling as she made her way downstairs toward the White House Communications Office, the computerized broadcast facility that disseminated mash releases formulated upstairs in the Communications Bullpen. The meeting with Gabrielle Ashe had gone well. Whether or not Gabrielle was scared enough to turn over an affidavit admitting the affair was uncertain, but it sure as hell was worth a try.Gabrielle would be smart to bail out on him, Tench thought. The poor girl had no idea just how hard Sexton was about to fall.In a few hours, the Presidents meteoric press conference was going to cut Sexton down at the knees. That was in the bank. Gabrielle Ashe, if she cooperated, would be the death blow that sent Sexton crawling off in shame. In the morning, Tench could release Gabrielles affidavit to the press along with footage of Sexton denying it.One-two punch.After all, politics was not just about winning the election, it was about winning decisively-having the momentum to carry out ones vision. Historically, any president who squeaked into daub on a narrow margin accomplished much less he was weakened right out of the gate, and Congress never seemed to let him freeze it.Ideally, the destruction of Senator Sextons campaign would be comprehensive-a two-pronged attack sacking both(prenominal) his politics and his ethic s. This strategy, known in Washington as the high-low, was stolen from the art of military warfare. Force the oppositeness to battle on two fronts. When a candidate possessed a piece of negative information about his opponent, he often waited until he had a second piece and went public with both simultaneously. A double-edged attack was always more effective than a single shot, particularly when the dual attack incorporated separate aspects of his campaign-the first against his politics, the second against his character. Rebuttal of a political attack took logic, while rebuttal of a character attack took passion disputing both simultaneously was an almost impossible balancing act.Tonight, Senator Sexton would find himself scrambling to extract himself from the political nightmare of an astounding NASA triumph, and yet his plight would deepen considerably if he were forced to defend his NASA position while being called a liar by a prominent female member of his staff.