Free Scarecrow and the Army of Thieves by Matthew Reilly Page B

in the void like a leviathan of the deep. Only it wasn’t an animal of any sort. It was man-made, mechanical.
    It was a submarine.
    A screaming sense of déjà vu overcame Schofield.
    This had happened to him once before, during that mission in Antarctica, when he had come face-to-face with a French nuclear ballistic missile submarine. On that occasion, he had managed to destroy the submarine in question. It was one of the events that had made him a marked man by the French.
    No. It couldn’t possibly be French —
    And then Schofield saw the markings on the sub’s dome-shaped bow, saw the distinct blue-white-and-red flag painted on it.
    Yes, it could. This submarine was French.
    In the meta-time in which the brain operates, Schofield’s mind rapidly connected some dots.
    The wristguard’s proximity sensor had picked up this submarine only minutes ago—which meant the sensor might not have been broken earlier in their trip and may actually have picked up the same submarine back then—the sub had followed them here—which meant it was a good guess that the sub wasn’t part of what was happening at Dragon Island—indeed, it was a better guess that this sub, this French sub which appeared to be following his team, probably had no idea at all what was going on at Dragon.
    This French submarine, he realised with a shock, was up in the Arctic trying to find him.
    Gazing at the gigantic submarine, Schofield suddenly noticed that there were three smaller submersibles mounted on its back, compact Swimmer Delivery Vehicles—similar to his AFDVs but smaller—carrying three frogmen apiece and which were at that very moment lifting off from the sub and coming toward Schofield.
    It was an assassination squad.
    A French hit team, coming for him, and yet totally unaware that they’d walked into a far more deadly firestorm.
    Schofield swam for the surface.
    Schofield burst up from the icy water and found himself treading water beside Ivanov and Bertie—the little robot was floating happily thanks to his flotation balloons, his fat tyres propelling him slowly but valiantly toward Schofield.
    ‘ Captain Schofield, do you require assistance? My buoyancy features can keep you afloat till our colleagues arrive. ’
    Just then, like a shark rising from the depths, the first French SDV breached the surface ten yards from Scarecrow, Ivanov and Bertie.
    One frogman drove while two more held short-barrelled FA-MAS assault rifles, raised and ready to fire—
    With a roar, something slammed into the first French SDV, sending all three of the frogmen on it flying into the water.
    It was Mother’s assault boat and it crunched over the top of the smaller French submersible, breaking it clean in two, before Mother swung her AFDV to a perfect halt beside Schofield.
    ‘Haul them out!’ she yelled to the Kid, Emma and Zack in the rear tray.
    Schofield scooped up Bertie while the Kid and the two civilians grabbed him and within seconds he and the robot were in the boat. A moment later, Ivanov was, too.
    ‘Go, go! ’ Schofield yelled. ‘This place is about to get really crowded and this might be our one and only chance to get out of here in one piece!’
    That was the understatement of the year.
    For in the next moment, several things happened at once:
    First, the other two French submersibles surfaced, revealing more armed frogmen on their backs.
    But then a Cobra thundered by overhead from the direction of the crashed Beriev, rotors thumping, minigun blazing, strafing the world. The skinny attack chopper’s wave of bullet-impacts traced a line across the water’s surface—a line that cut right across one of the newly-surfaced French submersibles, ripping the three frogmen on it to shreds.
    That first Cobra was quickly followed by the second AH-1, which swooped into a deadly hover low over the water, right in front of Mother’s boat! It pivoted in the air, levelling its minigun at them.
    ‘Fuck me . . .’ Mother breathed.
    The only