Beaman chuckled. He had heard the same complaint from Johnston at least a dozen times a day for the last four years. They had served together for so long and shared so much danger that they often thought alike, like an old married couple. Sure enough, Beaman was opening his mouth to tell the chief to make sure the team took time to eat when Johnston spoke up.

“We’d better make this a half-hour stop. Guys need chow and time to fill their CamelBaks.” The SEALs had forgotten canteens years before. Instead, they carried water-filled soft bladders on their backs, always ready to give them liquid through a hose that they could suck on. The bladders needed to be refilled with melting snow.

Beaman nodded as he reached for his topo map and GPS receiver. The little device locked on to three of the constellation of satellites high above them. The LED readout gave their position within a couple of meters. His best estimate was that they would be above Polyarnyy in two more days if they maintained this pace. The time spent treating Cantrell after he fell through the ice had cost them.

They were way behind schedule. There was no way for him to know how short the fuse on the international crisis had burned by now. Beaman pursed his lips in deep thought as he studied the map. It showed a road just a couple of kilometers to the south of where they were now. Though it was nothing more than a rough stretch of access road, it ran right up to the sub base’s main gate.

Then he saw another line just to the south of the road. It was a railroad track that ran past the base and crossed the fjord, heading to Severomorsk.

Beaman stared hard at the chart for a few more seconds. He motioned Johnston back over close enough for him to be heard without talking loudly.

“Chief, what say we head south a little and see if we can play hobo? We could hop ourselves a freight. We might just pick up a little time.”

Johnston winked back. “Now you’re using your head for more than a hat rack.”

Nicholas Vujnovich and Josef Bogatinoff stepped off the British Airways flight together and walked into the JFK International Terminal. There was only the two of them. Mikhail Gikoytski was on an Air France flight scheduled to arrive in an hour. Two Russians traveling together were no more unusual than a couple of businessmen. Three might raise suspicions, and especially with all the tension gripping the planet nowadays. They split up in Heathrow right after they stepped off the Aeroflot flight from Moscow.