“Okay,” said Martin. “It’s just ahead.”

I shivered in the cloying mist, but Martin was cool as a… well, he was unflappable, standing in the bow with his sunglasses, staring at the mountain of ice ahead.

“Remember the plan,” he went on. “Frank and I go in, get the data, set the charges. Tony, you just make sure the engine stays running. Get ready to leave as soon as we come out.” He turned to me. “And Charles?”

“Y-yes?” I stammered in the icy air.

He tossed me an Uzi. “Expect the unexpected.”

“Yessir.”

The boat, engine muted, pulled up to the ice shelf. Beyond the shelf lay the concealed door to the spies’ lair. Martin and Frank hopped off the skiff and crab-walked to the entrance, guns out.

I waited, watching, squinting in the sourceless light. The mist made everything softer, but there was no looking away from the glare.

“Shoulda had Martin leave me his sunglasses,” I muttered.

“Shut up and watch the perimeter, Chuckie,” said Tony. His own gun, a Jericho 13, rested calmly in Tony’s gloved palm.

We waited some more.

We stopped waiting when we heard gunfire from the lair. I spun, raising the Uzi, but lowered it as I beheld Martin, parka open, supporting Frank, who was limping and bleeding hard from his leg.

I knelt. “Come on! Come on!” I called as the two figures hurried toward me. A shadow moved behind an ice wall, and I fired a burst in that direction. The shadow shifted.

“Go go go!” Martin called as he dumped Frank hard into the bottom of the boat. Frank cried out in pain. Tony revved the engine – the time for stealth had passed.

I fired a few more bursts to cover our exit, joined by rounds from Martin’s own Uzi. Cries sounded from the barren, frozen glacier. Whether we hit anyone or not, I still don’t know, but it wasn’t long before the mist shrouded us again, covering our escape.

I turned to see Martin hand a flash drive to Tony. The pilot jacked the drive into his open laptop and pecked at the keys with his gloved fingers. Martin blinked, squinting in the light; he’d apparently taken his sunglasses off somewhere in the villain’s headquarters.

“Oh shit,” said Tony.

“What is it?” asked the boss.

“This data, it’s… it’s got messages to everywhere. Everywhere! Their other hideouts. Budapest, Bucharest, Paris, Rio… even freakin’ Kingstown!”

“What?”

Tony turned to Martin. “You said we were striking a decisive blow here,” he said. “You were wrong. This thing is bigger than we can handle, Marty.”

“So,” said Martin, turning back toward the place we’d just hit. “What you’re telling me is that this was just…”

Martin dug out his sunglasses, flipped them open, and put them on.

“…the tip of the iceberg.”

From that direction, a massive wave of sound burst as the charges they’d set went off.

“Yeaaaahhhhh!” cheered Frank.