So far, the mission had gone flawlessly. With a six-man team, he had set off in the Zodiacs just before midnight, right after the sun had finally made its brief retreat beneath the horizon. Powered by electric motors, the inflatable boats had silently crossed the gulf into the mouth of the Coppermine River and quietly tied up at the Athabasca Shipping Company’s marine dock. The satellite photos Roman carried with him had showed that the dock was empty seventy-two hours earlier. A large tug cabled to an even-larger barge now occupied the waterfront, but both vessels appeared empty and the dock deserted. Farther down the quay, he could see the Polar Dawn, brightly illuminated by the dock lights. Even at the late hour, he could see guards pacing her deck, moving ceaselessly in an effort to keep warm.

Roman turned his attention to a faded white building barely thirty yards in front of him. Intelligence reports had indicated it was the holding cell for the Coast Guard ship’s crew. Judging by the lone Mountie standing in the doorway, the prospects still looked good. Roman had assumed that the men would be lightly guarded and he was right. The harsh surrounding environment was enough of a deterrent for escape, let alone the six-hundred-and-fifty-mile distance to the Alaskan border.

A low voice suddenly whispered through his communications headset.

“Guppies are in the pond. I repeat, guppies are in the pond.”

It was Bojorquez, confirming that he had viewed the captives through a small window at the side of the dilapidated building.

“Teams in position?” Roman whispered into his mouthpiece.

“Mutt is in position,” replied Bojorquez.

“Jeff is in position,” came a second voice.

Roman glanced at his watch again. The rescue planes would touch down on the ice runway in ninety minutes. It was plenty of time to get the Polar Dawn’s crew across the bay and up to the airfield. Maybe even too much time.

He took a final look up and down the dock, finding no signs of life in either direction. Taking a deep breath, he radioed his orders.

“Commence go in ninety seconds.”

Then he sat back and prayed that their luck would hold.

CAPTAIN MURDOCK WAS SITTING on a concrete block smoking a cigarette when he heard a loud thump at the rear of the building. Most of his crewmen were asleep in their cots, taking advantage of the few hours of darkness. A handful of men, also finding sleep difficult, were crowded into a corner watching a movie on a small television set. One of the men, a Canadian Mountie who oversaw the captives inside the building armed with nothing but a radio, stood up and walked over to the captain.

“You hear something?” he asked.

Murdock nodded. “Sounded to me like a chunk of ice falling off the roof.”