Seven Deadly Sons (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The blood was warm and sticky as it ran down his throat. Even after all these decades it still tasted good. Bernhart chewed and swallowed the meat in his mouth, then once more sank his teeth into the carcass of the Emperor Penguin and tore out another chunk of its flesh.

The überwolf looked around as he ate, surprised at his own nervousness. He was the apex predator on this continent—on any continent. Nothing would dare try and come between him and his kills. The ten dead penguins stuffed into the large net beside him were safe. So why then was he nervous?

Florida was a long way from Antarctica. There was no way the Americans could find him here. Bernhart briefly wondered if hunting down those that had killed so many of the Reich's sons had really been such a good idea.

Bernhart growled as he ate. He shook the doubt from his wolf-shaped head. It had been a good plan. They had gotten revenge and tested themselves and the machine. There had been no way of knowing the Americans would have anything able to stand against them.

The überwolf finished off the last of his meal—he always preferred eating it fresh, on the ice, right after making a kill. He stood slowly, stretching his enormous legs. The cold wind coming off the glacier ruffled his fur. If he were in his human form he might shiver from the sub-zero windchill. As it was, the cold felt good, reminding him he was alive.

Bernhart grabbed at the large net of dead penguins and tossed it over his shoulder. Hunting always helped him clear his head. It was his particular area of expertise. Science, tactics—none of the other studies he'd had over the years had resonated with him as much as the thrill of the hunt. Not that hunting penguins was all that difficult.

The enormous creature glanced around at the glacier one more time. It was an instinct he couldn't shake. Despite his victory in Miami, he still gave in to a feeling of self-preservation and caution.

He loped across the ice, huge, clawed feet easily carrying him across the slippery surface. He preferred running on all fours, but with his large load he had to gallop along on his feet like a man.

In a short time, he finally reached the edge of the glacier, where the ice pushed against a low ridge. Carved into the side of the ridge was the hatch. The large metal panel, set with the seal of the Circle was damp. The wind must have carried a light covering of ice crystals over it, melting against the warm metal.

Bernhart set his load down and lifted the huge hatch, swinging it open. He reached for his kills and hesitated. Something had caught his eye. The werewolf tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he looked up.

He was sure he had seen something. But the Antarctic sky was as pale and blue as it always was. Not even the birds came to this part of the glacier. The only thing he ever saw in that sky were the occasional aircraft of the scientists and few residents of the vast, icy continent passing overhead—oblivious to the large, subterranean complex Bernhart called home.

The werewolf shrugged, picked up his kills and hurried through the hatch, closing it behind him.

A thousand feet above the glacier, headed, north, the Ghost Walker code-named Forest was moving at top speed, away from the überwolf. He had almost been detected by the creature, but his incredible speed had taken him away before the creature could focus on him.

When he reached the coast of the Antarctic continent, he stopped and hovered in place. He once more got his bearings, sighting distant mountain peaks.

Satisfied his handler had seen the peaks, Forest turned and headed home, covering the more than eight thousand miles in a heartbeat.

Seconds later, he was back in his own body, eyes opening slowly.

"Drink," Gloria said beside him, holding a straw to his lips. Forest sipped water through the straw and sat up slowly. This had been one of his longest searches yet. His body felt weak.

"Did we get it?" he asked.

Gloria smiled, picking up her sketchpad from a table beside her. She showed Forest her sketches of the mountain ranges he'd sighted during his search. As always, they were like photographs—exactly as he remembered them.

"I think we can triangulate from these."

***

Javi didn't particularly like being around the others, but the Colonel had insisted on it. So now she was in one of the swiveling, recliner-like chairs in the back of the bomber, eating and listening to yet another briefing.

"-which puts the base here, right on the glacier," Colonel Kenslir said, pointing to a spot in the air at his shoulder level. He was standing by the starboard side of the passenger module, Jimmy, Josie, Laura and Javi in their chairs, turned sideways to watch him while they ate.

"Queen Maude?" Laura Olson asked. "Wasn't she one of the Golden Girls?"

Kenslir frowned and continued with his briefing. "Our Ghost Walker indicated a small opening, adjacent to the glacier. We're retasking a satellite to the region, but we may be on the ground before it's in position."

"This is on the glacier?" Josie asked. She, like everyone except Javi, had on the tactical glasses the team seemed to always wear. The glowing lights in the lenses of the glasses showed she was using the virtual reality functions as she listened to the briefing.

Javi finished her last bite of sandwich and slipped her own glasses on, connecting the data cable from a pocket of her assault vest. Displays immediately sprang to life, hanging in the air, in her field of view. As she turned her head to the left and right, the displays stayed in place, on either side of the Colonel. They all were of Antarctica—maps and aerial photos of the region.

"That's a little far inland for a submarine base, isn't it?" Javi asked.

"They say the Germans discovered a canyon stretching from one side of Antarctica to the other, under the ice," Jimmy said. "Allowing them to sail their U-boats all the way across."

"Who says?" Javi asked.

"The internet," Laura Olson answered. "Jimmy is our resident expert on conspiracy theories."

Jimmy frowned, but the Colonel interrupted before he could say anything.

"Radar imaging of the continent has shown the coastline to be filled with canyons, fjords and valleys—not stretching across the content, but some penetrating several hundred miles inland."

"So they could have sailed in, under the ice?" Josie asked, surprised.

"It's theoretically possible. And a good explanation for why Highjump didn't find the base—they were searching the coastline for submarine pens."

"Highjump? Is that like hopscotch?" Laura asked, grinning.

"Operation Highjump," Javi said, "was an American expedition to Antarctica shortly after the War. Admiral Byrd led the expedition, which was reported to the public as a polar exploration. In reality, the Admiral and his task force targeted and bombed German research bases and outposts all throughout Queen Maud Land that might be hiding war criminals."

Josie was surprised, and looked to Jimmy. "I guess your internet isn't always wrong."

"Correct," Kenslir said. "this base doesn't appear to match any known locations discovered by Highjump. It could be an inland, sub-glacial sub pen or something else."

"What else?" Laura asked.

"Atlantis!" Jimmy said excitedly, drawing a harsh glare from the Colonel.

"Just be on your toes," Kenslir said. "We have no way of knowing the size or extent of this base. Once we've confirmed this is the correct location, the team will move in to back us up."

"Why not just bomb the site now that we know where it is?" Javi Wallach demanded.

"We've got a man down there," Kenslir said.

"Do you think Johnson's still alive?" Josie asked.

"I sincerely hope so."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Dean Johnson almost wished he was dead.

Chasing the überwolf through the portal had been a pretty stupid idea—one that cost him his leg. Worse, it put him on his own, where ever it was he'd ended up.

At first, the fleeing German had been surprised, then it had transformed into its bigger, hairier version and promptly kicked Johnson's ass up one side and down the other. Even if he hadn't lost his leg, he wondered if he'd have been able to come out on top.

As it was he was now chained to a table in some kind of machine shop, stripped down, all his gear and clothing gone. It was humiliating.

"
Ah, Bruder
!" the German who'd been experimenting on Johnson for hours said.

Dean turned his head and saw another of the überwolves enter. It was in wolf form, dragging a large net full of bloody penguin carcasses.

The creature reverted to human form, dropping the kills, then began to dress.

"Have you learned anything?" Bernhart asked his brother in German.

"No," Friedrich said. The second überwolf was dressed in wool pants and sweater, with a dirty labcoat on. "He appears impervious to everything I've tried. Hammer, saws—even acid. I was able to manage a partial indentation with a diamond-tipped drill bit, but it broke before I could get any real depth."

"What about explosives?"

"I have considered it, but it would mean taking him outside."

"What do you Nazis want?!" Dean snapped. He was tired of them standing around, talking in their guttural language in front of him. He couldn't make heads nor tails of it. He struggled against the immense chains wrapped around his arms, waist and one good leg, but as always, couldn't break free.

"We are so very curious about you," Friedrich said in badly-accented English. "You appear to be more than just the average Golem."

"How many of you are there?" Bernhart asked stepping over beside his brother.

"What, you and Thing 2 worried my team is coming to get you?"

The Germans laughed. "They will never find us here," Friedrich laughed. "You are all alone, American. No one is coming for you."

"Don't be too sure of that," Dean Johnson said. He'd have spit, but being made of stone, he had no saliva.

***

The tight confines of the bomber's passenger module made putting a parachute harness on more than tricky. Even standing in the back half, where there were no seats and a little more elbow room. Javi wondered if they shouldn't have just had them on the whole flight.

"We're arriving just ahead of a storm," Colonel Kenslir was explaining. He'd already put his harness on, and was strapping on his weapons—an OA-93 submachinegun on his right thigh and a MK 23 semiautomatic pistol on his left hip. "If we're lucky enough to get a whiteout, use the tactical visors to navigate."

"Lucky?" Jimmy said, clipping his M4's sling to a buckle on his vest.

"Reduced visibility can only work to our advantage," the Colonel said.

"And it may be Antarctic summer," Kenslir continued, "but out on the glacier, the wind chill is well below freezing."

"Relax," Laura Olson said, checking her own gear. Like the others, she'd stowed her tactical glasses, slipping larger goggles on instead. "Even our little spy can handle the cold now."

"We may all be immune to this weather," Kenslir said. "But our equipment isn't. Our firearms in particular won't hold up well in these conditions for long."

Jimmy had his gear on now as well. He balled a fist and held it in front of him. "We'll just have to rely on something other than guns."

"That's a bad idea, Kane," the Colonel said, frowning. "One on one, you're likely to get your ass kicked. Use your gear."

"I'm all for filling these bastards with lead," Javi said, "but I think your werewolf has a point."

"Thought you didn't believe in monsters," Josie said, buckling on a helmet.

Javi frowned and started to reply, but the Colonel interrupted her.

"We're not just using lead." He reached into one of Javi's bags, pulling out a straight magazine for the Uzi he had provided her. He tossed the ammunition to Javi, who caught it and examined it closely.

The bullet at the top of the magazine was a copper-jacketed round, the tip painted white. The next bullet down in the magazine looked different. She used her thumb to pop the top round out for a closer look. It looked like a normal hollow point lead bullet, but it appeared to have flakes of something in the lead.

"Hollow-core, composite lead-silver bullets," the Colonel said. "Silver filings are mixed into molten lead, then cast into bullets. The core of the round is filled with tetrodotoxin. Those are alternated in your mags with standard copper-jacketed white phosphorous-core rounds."

Javi pulled her finger back from the silver bullet she'd rubbed and quickly wiped her fingers on her shirt. "Neurotoxin? In bullets?"

"If the neurotoxin doesn't kill them, the silver will slow their healing abilities. The white phosphorous rounds should cause them enough pain to make them think twice about charging you." He handed Javi her Uzi and she strapped it in place across her stomach.

Josie and Jimmy were suited up now, stuffing STANAG magazines into the pouches of their assault vests and ammo carriers on their left thighs. They each carried a short-barreled version of the American M4 carbine, fitted with collapsible stocks. They carried the same MK 23 semiauto pistols strapped to their right thighs as the Colonel.

The vampire was stowing an old-fashioned, sawed-off, double barreled shotgun in her right thigh holster.

"A shotgun? Really?" Javi asked, stuffing the extra magazines for her Uzi into the pockets of her vest and her own left leg ammo carrier.

"What's wrong with shotguns?" Kenslir asked, pulling an AA-12 auto shotgun from his duffel. The stainless steel and plastic auto shotgun was fitted with an underbarrel grenade launcher and long banana-shaped magazines.

The lights in the interior of the crew module turned from white to red and a crewman's voice could be heard from one of several speakers in the compartment. "Approaching drop zone, Colonel."

Kenslir nodded and pulled his own goggles down over his eyes then slipped on a helmet and oxygen mask. He moved to the ramp control box and twisted the lever.

The floor of the compartment shuddered and the back half began to lower, the bomber's bay doors already open. Cold air immediately began blowing into the bay.

Javi clipped her oxygen mask into place on her helmet, then checked her own gear one final time before stepping into line behind Josie—who stood behind Jimmy. The vampire stepped in behind Javi, clipping her oxygen mask into place.

"You ever HALO before?" Laura Olson shouted over the wind. Javi could barely hear her.

Javi gave her a condescending look. "Have you?" Between the wind and the muffling of the mask, she doubted the vampire could even hear her.

At the rear of the bay, the red lights on the back bulkhead flashed from red to green. Jimmy charged forward, down the ramp, leaping off and rotating as he did so, his arms across his chest, as though diving backwards into the water. Josie Winters followed right on his heels.

Javi inhaled, tasting the oxygen from the mask she was wearing and ran down the ramp after them, closing her eyes as she jumped free of the plane.

When she opened them seconds later, the Mossad agent breathed a sigh of relief. She'd cleared the bomber without getting sucked into the engines. She'd been assured the ramp had worked countless times before, but the idea of jumping out of a plane with the engines mounted to the fuselage—behind the passenger module— worried her.

Now she just had to worry about being spotted from the ground. Unlike any other HALO she'd ever done, Javi was now falling through a bright blue sky, thanks to Antarctica's five-month-long day. It was more than a little unnerving. She wondered how the flight crew felt about it—their plane wasn't technically a stealth bomber, but missions in broad daylight had to be unsettling.

Javi rotated around in freefall to watch the supersonic bomber, wings open wide for the low speed they'd needed to jump. Now that they were all clear of the plane, those wings slowly swung backwards and the aircraft's speed increased, all four afterburners kicking in. It would be out of sight in seconds, on its way to a Naval base to land and refuel.

Javi's tactical goggles came to life now, data springing into view in her field of vision.

>>>WALLACH, FOLLOW YOUR WAY POINTS<<< Colonel Kenslir texted over the comm channel. His command scrolled across the top of Javi's field of view in bright green letters.

She pressed her arms to her sides and tucked her legs together, increasing her speed. With tiny adjustments, she was able to steer herself, matching her trajectory to the flight path indicated by the boxes on the HUD racing toward her. Bright diamonds in her augmented reality display showed the location of the rest of the team, spread out on either side of her. Josie—represented by a bright blue diamond—and Jimmy—a brown diamond—were on her right. Kenslir and the vampire were on her left, marked by green and red diamonds.

The five skydivers plummeted through the cold Antarctic atmosphere, angling toward a red square on the vast expanse of white below them. They were a hundred miles inland, and much further than that away from any research station or outpost. She hoped the Americans were right with this location. Even with their cursed bracelet, Javi doubted she could last long in this inhospitable wasteland.

After several moments, a chime sounded from the tactical goggles and a bright yellow box began to flash beside the words "PREPARE TO DEPLOY".

Javi spread out her arms and legs, slowing her descent. When she reached the pre-programmed altitude, her parafoil deployed. It opened successfully, billowing out above her, the straps digging in as she was jerked around, feet downward.

She grabbed the risers and expertly steered herself down to a soft landing—taking two steps before coming to a full stop on the ice.

Jimmy and the vampire were next. Both crashed hard, the vampire actually rolling over and getting tangled in her lines. Josie landed better, breaking into a short run before she came to a stop.

Colonel Kenslir landed last—boots impacting the ice solidly and not moving one more inch. He heaved at his lines, quickly reeling in the parafoil as it tried to pull him off his feet.

All of the team quickly rolled up their parachutes, balling them up and wrapping them in the risers and lines. Jimmy accepted the bundles as the Colonel hacked away at the ice with a wicked-looking tomahawk, cutting a hole to stow the chutes in.

"I got it!" Josie said, pulling her oxygen mask free. She concentrated and a section of ice five feet across suddenly liquefied, sinking rapidly down to a depth of nearly three feet.

Jimmy and the Colonel tossed in the parachutes and their helmets. Javi followed suit, throwing in her helmet, oxygen and harness as well. As the last of the gear was pushed into the melted ice, she noticed the wind was picking up. It tasted cold and should have hurt her lungs, but didn't. Her bracelet was working.

Josie quickly froze the water their gear was submerged in, locking it into the glacier.

The Colonel had his autoshotgun unlimbered now. "Flight crew detected no heat signatures on the ice. I think we're clear," he said over the wind.

The team set out slowly, widening into a wide line, marching for the rocky ridge several hundred yards away.