“Only in the spring. Icebergs make the area too dangerous for shipping this time of year.”
A grimace contorted Connor's face. Without another word he bent the wire in half, leaving two ten-foot strands. He attached the center of the V to the unwired loop stick and the capacitor. Thirty seconds later he had stretched out the two bare lines of wire to attach them to the bookcase beside the opposite side of the chamber. The antenna was aimed over the mountains and Ice Station.
“All right,” he said quickly. “Go downstairs and crank up the generator to full blast.”
“All the way to 220 volts?'‘
“Yeah. Turn it up all the way.”
With a curt nod Thor vanished and Connor twisted the dial to the Maritime Emergency Frequency, a channel reserved by international law for sea disasters. Then he lifted the ground wire, holding it by a piece of rubber insulation that he had saved from the antenna. Ail dials on the radio maxed out, and Connor heard the generator roaring even louder on the lower level. Instantly he began sending the SOS signal, three quick beeps and three long followed by three quick. He continued it for thirty seconds before pausing.
Thor stood in the doorway.
Connor listened intently, motionless. The scent of overheating circuits filled the room and he sent the signal out again, quicker this time, hitting the ground wire as clearly as he could manage before listening to the receiver. With a loud humming, a thin spiral of smoke drifted up from the capacitor. Connor heard a crackling and then there was a faint response of Morse code, almost undetectable beneath the jamming static.
“We got 'em!” Connor yelled.
“Give them our location!” Thor said, staggering a step into the room.
Quickly Connor hit the ground wire against the steel and then an explosion shattered the shortwave, transistors blowing shards of glass into the air with a white-green blast of electric flame. Connor had instantly let go of the wire to throw his forearm across his face, and Thor yelled, leaping to the side to snatch the plug from the outlet.
Stunned silence; the harsh scent of burned circuits blackening the air. Waves crashed along the shore as Thor gazed down on the shortwave. He said nothing as Connor lowered his forearm, both of them watching the still glowing circuits of the capacitor fading quickly from orange to gray, to black. Still staring at the radio, Connor stood up. He was motionless for a second before he caught a deep breath.
“Well... that's it.”
Thor grimaced. “We can bring Beth and Jordan to the tower. I will protect them until you can find a means of transport. They will be safer here than at the Ice Station.”
Connor was abruptly struck by the fact that Thor had never asked what the danger was. He looked intently at the red-bearded face and then, drawn by a strange, changing focus, he noticed a gigantic, double-bladed battle-ax hung high above the stone fireplace.
Twin-bladed, each crescent slab of sharpened steel as wide as Connor's chest, the battle-ax seemed to glow, strange and subdued, with a fantastic war scene exquisitely engraved upon the side, a scene that intrigued Connor despite everything else that was happening.
Connor felt an eerie sensation as he studied the image, the image of a great, fiery dragon with wings as wide as the universe itself, viciously locked in battle with a heroic, winged figure that grimly held the dragon's hideous head, struggling breath to breath.
Wrestling in the stars, the two gigantic warrior figures were exquisitely embroidered into the side of the battle-ax with uncountable smaller figures battling beneath them.
Despite Connor's rush, he was struck by the image and the vague feeling of power it invoked. There was something distinctly ancient and forgotten in the scene, something that gave an Old Testament sensation. Connor blinked to shake himself from the distraction as Thor leaned over him. The giant's hand had settled on his shoulder.
“We will discover what the danger is,” the Norseman rumbled. “Perhaps it is not what we think, my friend. That would be unlikely. A man's imagination can do many things.”
“Maybe,” Connor replied, turning his attention from the ax. “But I'm not taking any chances with my family. So you stay here and I'll bring Beth and Jordan this afternoon. I want them here until I can get all of us off this island.”
“I will make arrangements. They will be comfortable.”
“I'll be back in four hours.” Connor moved to the door, pausing. “And keep an eye out, partner. I've got a real bad feeling about this.”
* * *
A doubled guard stood at the gate when Connor reentered the Ice Station. Although the entrance was usually a perfunctory ritual, this time the Rangers motioned for Connor to step down from the Jeep. Connor readily complied. They directed him into the guard's shack, where Barley was waiting. The muscular lieutenant looked morose.