Page 1 of Enemy Within
1
Kara Sea
IN THE FROZEN ARCTIC, one mile seemed as vast as a thousand.
Circling around former General Porter Madigan, as far as the eye could see, was a haunted, whitewashed wasteland. A howling storm had blitzed the RusFuel station they’d taken over, and after the storm, the ghostly sky seemed to fuse with the endless expanse of desolation and ice. Fog and a swirling snow haze hovered, wisping through the distance. The mist was so thick that the lights on the snow tractor, parked feet away from the station, were only faint flickers amidst the gloomy, endless miasma.
Somewhere out there, the midnight sun shone, spiraling in an endless circle over the horizon. The Arctic summer had arrived, just barely, just enough to keep a gloomy light hovering through the frozen fog.
Thousands of miles of ice surrounded him, and beneath him, under the ice pack, a frigid ocean quaked and roared.
Madigan smiled, his ruddy cheeks pulling against the bitter cold beneath his fur-lined hood. The Arctic suited him. The rawness, the violence, the brutality of the place. As peaceful and serene as people might imagine it to be, the Arctic was everything but. A truly harsh place, with vicious realities. Smooth ice and gentle snow hid the raging, turbulent ocean. Ice ridges thrown up by the crash of glaciers shared space with ragged fractures, bisecting the ice and opening up leads where waters carved and splintered into the ice cap. Scars marred the expanse, the wreckage and rubble of a thousand violent collisions throughout the centuries, spread across a wild emptiness.
“General.”
Madigan turned and faced former Captain Ryan Cook. Cook’s dark eyes fixed on his, deep set in his angular face. Like Madigan, he wore a thick snow parka with the hood pulled up to cover his head. Beneath the fur-trimmed rim, Cook’s eyes glittered, like black diamonds lit by firelight.
“Status, Captain?”
“The storm didn’t delay our progress. Our men were able to shelter on the ships. Some of the hired help suffered exposure. Frostbite on their hands, feet, and face. The main teams are back at work.”
“Exposure? They were supposed to be sheltering away from the storm.”
“Their failure, and their condition, is a personal problem, General. Not ours.”
Madigan grinned and turned back to the unforgiving landscape. Their hired help was generally good, but not perfect. His criminal army, they were men who had been sprung from the worst prisons in the world and banded together under Madigan’s banner with a promise for a better life—or at least, a life more suited to them than the present world offered. They worked for a debauched and bloody future that they could practically taste. They were brutal men, hardened by their captivity and hardened further by Madigan’s mission and Cook’s relentless training.
“Cut them loose. They can deal with their personal problems on their own.”
Cook stepped to Madigan’s side, and Madigan caught the curve of his smile from the corner of his eye. “Already done, sir. They were last seen walking away from our ships under the watchful gaze of my team.”
He grinned again, his chapped lips catching beads of ice blown up by the polar winds. Naturally, Cook had already implemented his orders. Never had Madigan found a more ruthlessly efficient man than Cook. He was singular in his focus, exacting in his execution. Mission first. Mission always. All else was secondary. Any tactics were on the table. He was a force of nature.
Madigan was glad Cook was on his side.
And Cook’s team. A group of men as close to Madigan as Cook was. True believers, in every sense of the word. They’d come to his side over the years, the most loyal officers and military men he’d encountered. Men who believed as Cook did, and as Madigan did. That the world had gone astray, and it was up to them to set it to rights. To put the strong back on top. To put the rightful, and the powerful—truly powerful—in charge again.
Millennia ago in ancient Sparta, a secret unit of warriors was kept buried amid the ranks of the legendary Spartans. TheKrypteia, a unit hand-selected from the best, the most trustworthy, and most bloodthirsty, and charged with keeping order in the kingdom. A security arm of sorts, they terrorized and murdered their fellow citizens to keep order and control.
It was time for theKrypteiato rise again. For the strongest to dictate that order and control in a world gone awry. “All operations are proceeding on schedule. Ventilations of the methane hydrate are in the redline.” Cook spoke again, and as he did, Madigan pictured the cannibalized chemical indicators they had ripped out of the destroyed oil derricks and RusFuel stations they’d taken over in the Kara Sea. A few adjustments, some carefully placed explosions in the ice, and the indicators redlined, signaling massive ventilations of the dangerous gas into the air. Once it ignited, waves of fire would roll across the skies, a cleansing burn that would raze the old world to cinder and ash.
“And our other team?” Turning, Madigan raised one eyebrow.
Cook nodded back to the base behind them, a bare-bones, prefabricated structure formerly used by RusFuel scientists on their polar oil explorations. “Sonar has pinpointed the location. The divers are surveying the site now. We’ve salvaged enough equipment from the RusFuel station, and after the dive teams complete their survey and draw up the plans, we’ll begin placing pistons underwater and beneath the wreck.”
“How long until we’re able to raise it?”
“Days, General. We won’t know for sure until the dive team returns. And after—”
Madigan held up his hand. “We must get our nuclear tech here before we speak of anything else. We’ve come this far by being practical. Measured. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Captain. Stick to the plan. Have you heard from our man?”
Cook hesitated, for just a moment. “Not yet. He’s on the move. He hasn’t made contact since his team mobilized.”
“One step at a time. We maneuver him here. His utility is best served with us now. His undercover mission is over. Have him cut loose. You know the drill.”
“When he makes contact again, I’ll give the order.”
Madigan took a deep breath. Ice crystals melted in his throat, and frigid air filled his lungs. The cold reached deep inside him and curled around his fast-beating heart. So close. They were so close.
