Ice Fortress (A Jack Coulson Thriller)
Page 16
Muller didn’t want to risk damaging the American sub, so the man cowering there would live a little longer. The man on the ground wouldn’t be so lucky.
Muller unclipped something from one of the loops on his body armor. It looked small in his oversized palm and more like a piece of exotic tropical fruit than a weapon. But it was, indeed, a weapon and an extremely potent one at that.
Hand grenades haven’t evolved much since the First World War. They’re simple weapons. Pull the pin, then throw it and wait for it to explode. If the concussion wave doesn’t kill you, the shrapnel will, cutting both friend and foe to ribbons as it flies in all directions. A traditional grenade is as likely to kill your own men as it is the enemy. That’s what Muller loved so much about his Swedish designed and German built Rheinmetall SHGR07 Airburst grenades. Only the enemy was cut to pieces by the shrapnel or killed by the concussive blast. And it did the enemy no good to hide behind cover. The SHGR07 was purpose built to deal with that.
Vertical spring-loaded metal prongs running from top to bottom of the small grenade gave it an innocent look, but that was far from the case. Like a deadly spider with its legs curled into a ball, as soon as the 07 grenade hit the ground, the prongs or ‘legs’ would spring from the sides of the casing causing the grenade to stand up like a macabre robot spider. A small charge would then fire from the base of the grenade, shooting it six feet into the air where it would perform a neat crowd pleaser trick and explode, shooting a cone of lethal shrapnel directly below the grenade with no collateral damage. The target, even if shielded by low lying cover, like the man Muller could see below, and anything in a six foot radius, would be blasted to a bloody ruin by the most advanced hand grenade ever devised.
Muller pulled the pin and threw the grenade with uncanny accuracy to Jack’s position in the concrete drain. Muller didn’t even duck for cover behind the conning tower. Neither did his men. They had all seen the Airburst grenade in action. It was a devastating and focused weapon. As soon as it hit the ground, they all silently counted in their heads the five seconds until detonation.
Chapter 43
November 9, 2017, 09:30 UTC
U-Boot-Bunker (Submarine Pen)
Kriegsmarine Base 211
Ronne Ice Shelf (Antarctica)
77° 51' 19.79" S -61° 17' 34.20" W
“Oh shit!”
Jack saw what was coming even before it hit the ground. His battle sharpened senses recognized the avocado colored grenade as it arced through its trajectory. He was toast. He’d seriously underestimated their firepower. All of it German. That couldn’t be a coincidence, but there would be time to analyze that later. Right now, he had no more than 5 seconds to live.
Jack calculated the distance from the nearest dead soldier to his position. The man had fallen in the shadows and having done so, rolled a few yards on the sloping concrete toward Jack. He crunched the numbers and angles and worked out that it was his only chance. The odds of success weren’t good, though. But what the hell …
Like a coiled spring, Jack leapt to his feet and made a furious dash toward the dead man.
Two seconds until detonation.
He threw himself down and slid the last couple of feet, outstretched like he was making a desperate attempt to slide into the home plate.
As soon as he slid into the fallen mercenary, Jack rolled the man over him until he was lying directly beneath, using the man’s dead body, Kevlar helmet and Schutzklasse IV tactical body armor as a makeshift shield.
The grenade exploded.
The blast was ear-popping and the shock wave brain jarring.
Jack was stunned and badly concussed, but alive.
Barely.
It hadn’t done him much good, though. He was still in the sights of the man who threw the grenade and the others with him in the U-Boat conning tower. They had the high ground and now Jack was pinned down by the deadweight of one of their men and his heavy gear.
“It’s time to give up, Rambo,” a voice shouted from the U-Boat. His English was clipped and precise, but he had a heavy accent nonetheless.
Jack pushed his weapon out of arms reach and raised his hands above his head as best he could. New mission — stay alive.
“Very wise choice,” the man commended him. “Tell your friend on the submarine to do the same.”
“It’s over Sam. Let’s focus on keeping the others alive,” Jack shouted in the hope that Sam would hear him and not play he hero.
“How do we know that they’re not going to murder us like the rest of the crew?” Sam’s booming voice echoed off the concrete walls and over the water.
Jack couldn’t argue with the man’s logic.
“By the way, my name’s Jack, not Rambo.”
“Alright, Jack and Sam, my name is Muller. Standartenführer Karl Muller. You are both clearly skilled and very resourceful, but the time for games is over. We have a mission to complete and we don’t have time for your American heroics right now. So, here’s what’s going to happen …”
Muller paused.
One his men unshouldered his pack and produced something that looked like an overgrown pistol whose oversized barrel was on a steady diet of steroids. He then pulled out a skeletal looking buttstock and rammed it home into the pistol. Now Jack recognized it, even in the less than ideal lighting conditions. He’d seen plenty of under barrel slung grenade launchers, but this was a H&K AG36 with its own buttstock. The man was holding a standalone compact grenade launcher.
But what in the hell did he intend to do with it?
“Your silence tells me you know what that is.” Muller seemed to read Jack’s mind. “We’re carrying HE rounds, in case you’re wondering.”
“It’s a one shot breech loader. Even with High Explosive rounds, you can’t take us both out with that,” Jack retorted. You might blow one of us into a shower of body parts, but before your man reloads, whichever of us survives will take him out.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. But neither of you two are the target.”
The man swiveled and turned his grenade launcher to the Barracuda.
“You’re not going to make much of a dent with that,” Jack sneered.
“One HE grenade in the main ballast tank and it will take in enough water to begin submerging the sub. Even if they blow the other tanks, just one filled with seawater will take her down. Whoever is still on board will die in a steel coffin. Eventually.”
“Sam?” Jack thought Muller was bluffing.
Sam emerged from behind the sail with his hands raised. “He might be right. I’m not going to chance it.”
Jack managed to slither his way out from under his human shield and stood with hands raised.
Muller led his men down on to the deck of the U-Boat and across the dock to where Jack stood. Two of them broke formation to keep weapons on Sam.
Karl Muller towered over Jack and he got right in his face to intimidate him. Jack showed not the slightest concern at the man’s size or the raw power he seemed to exude. He was one tough unit, that was for sure.
But Jack had come up against his kind before. He suspected this time would be no different, in the end.
Looking around at his fallen team, Muller stuck his finger in Jack’s face, “You? You did all this?”
Jack shrugged. “It was fun while it lasted.”
He never saw the punch coming. That was a first for Jack. He always saw it coming. His combat ready eyes would pick up anything from a slight shift in balance or the lowering of one shoulder ready to pop an uppercut. But this time, he was completely blindsided by the gigantic man who moved with unparalleled speed.
Everything went dark and Jack hit the ground before he knew what, or who, hit him.
Chapter 44
November 9, 2017, 10:00 UTC
U-Boot-Bunker (Submarine Pen)
Kriegsmarine Base 211
Ronne Ice Shelf (Antarctica)
77° 51' 19.79" S -61° 17' 34.20" W
U-2532
<
br /> Snakes of flexible linear demolition charge entwined with ‘det-cord’ formed a silhouette charge on the oversized bulkhead hatch designed to blow the welded seam of the door without damaging the contents of the compartment.
Muller handled the demolition charges himself, not trusting the work to anyone else, given the stakes. He considered himself something of an expert when it came to breach charges using C4 and detonation cord. He hoped he had the combination right this time, not wanting to risk damage to the contents of the chamber.
Blasting caps and time fuses were pushed into both ends of the linear charge, ready to be initiated. Muller would have just enough time to take cover behind one of the many flood compartment hatches before the door blew.
Once the main hatch was blown, his men would be able to unload The Bell through the angled torpedo loading hatch in the deck. After all, that’s how they got it in there in the first place, over 70 years ago.
When it finally saw the light of day, he could contact Barnes and have him organize the next phase of the operation. From what he’d been told, the device wouldn’t leave this facility. Generators, habitat pods and laboratory equipment would be shipped to the base. Once recommissioned as the original engineers intended during the final days of the war, quantum physicists and an assortment of other scientists would descend on the base and begin working on The Bell, fine tuning its operation to produce more stable and accurate results than had been achieved with the limited technology available during the war years and their limited understanding of quantum mechanics at the time.
They were so close.
It was time to blast the hatch. What had possessed someone to weld it closed in the first place? It didn’t matter now. Soon nothing would matter but a victorious Third Reich at the end of the war. The British, Americans and Russians would be crushed by the superiority of the German forces once The Bell was operational.
“Heil Hitler,” he said proudly as he initiated the time fuses and dashed to the nearest bulkhead for shelter from the blast.
Chapter 45
November 9, 2017, 10:15 UTC
U-Boot-Bunker (Submarine Pen)
Kriegsmarine Base 211
Ronne Ice Shelf (Antarctica)
77° 51' 19.79" S -61° 17' 34.20" W
USS Barracuda
The sound of voices slowly penetrated through the fog swirling in Jack’s head. That had to mean he was still alive. As he opened his eyes, he became aware of his surroundings. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he was lying on a dining table in the crew’s mess. He tried to move but couldn’t. Sharp plastic cuffs cut into his flesh when he tried to sit up. They’d cuffed him. Good and tight, too. He could feel his flesh swelling in his hands and feet. They were taking no chances. Who could blame them. He’d do the same in their position.
As his eyes adjusted to the harsh light, he could see Captain Jameson, the XO, Durand, the two nerdy scientists and the very pleasant face of Leah, the Oceanographer all sitting at an adjacent table. None of them were cuffed, he noticed.
“Where’s Sam?” he rasped, his throat so dry it hurt to swallow.
Captain Jameson answered him, “They’ve taken him to the U-Boat. Apparently, thanks to you, Muller’s found himself somewhat shorthanded when it comes to men to do the heavy lifting.”
The effects of the knockout punch began to fade and Jack noticed there were two guards in the room with them, guns trained on him. Like the professionals they were, they had positioned themselves at 12 o’clock and 7 o’clock so they wouldn’t shoot each other in the crossfire should they need to open fire on the prisoners.
Yet again, Jack had to give kudos to the skill of these men and the thorough training they’d obviously received. They were as good as any he’d encountered, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have weaknesses. The turkey shoot out in the bunker proved that quite convincingly when Jack took down most of Muller’s men.
A soft hand brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. Leah’s face hovered over him.
“You must have really pissed their boss off,” she observed, indicating the two sentries.
“Yeah, he’s built like a tank. And damn fast for his size, too.” Jack winced. It hurt to talk.
She brought a tumbler of water from the other table to where Jack lay.
Click.
One of their guards thumbed his safety off and brought his sight to bear on Leah.
She held up the glass. “It’s just water.”
The man nodded but his unwavering gaze followed Leah’s every movement.
“Were you able to make contact with anyone while you were out there?”
“We didn’t make it very far. Besides, we need to get to the ice with a radio or sat phone before we can raise an alert,” Jack explained.
Leah looked wide eyed and alarmed. “So nobody knows we’re here? Nobody is coming to help?” Her hand trembled, puddling water all over Jack’s chest.
“Jameson says PACOM will raise an alarm soon. That’s the best we can hope for, I’m afraid.”
“I hope they do. I’m not sure these guys have a game plan that includes keeping prisoners,” Leah ventured to say aloud what she’d heard Jameson and Durand whispering to each other while Jack was unconscious. “Besides, even if the navy raised the alarm, they have no idea where we are. It was only my experimental sonar tech that found this base and the access tunnel in the first place. I doubt they’ll ever find us.”
Leah studied Jack’s face for a moment. He couldn’t hide the fact that he agreed with her logic.
Before he had a chance to make up something encouraging to say, both armed mercenaries held their hands to their earpieces, plainly listening intently to orders as they raised their guns and brought them to bear on their prisoners.
This was it. Jack knew what was coming as he found himself staring into the business end of gun. After all, you didn’t aim a gun at someone you didn’t want to shoot. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, trussed up like a Thanksgiving Turkey on a mess hall dining table.
Chapter 46
November 9, 2017, 10:15 UTC
South Pacific Ocean
Location: Classified
Tomahawk Land Attack Missile – Nuclear Variant (TLAM-N)
Skimming above the waves, the Tomahawk missile cruises at 500 miles per hour. Its target is locked but constant adjustments are being made by the Inertial Guidance and Terrain Contour Matching systems to account for wind speed and wave height to keep it on target and on schedule. Unerringly.
Inside the payload section is housed a titanium encased W80-2 nuclear warhead, ready to be armed for a tactical strike as it closes in on its target coordinates.
Countdown to impact: 3 hours
Chapter 47
November 9, 2017, 10:30 UTC
U-Boot-Bunker (Submarine Pen)
Kriegsmarine Base 211
Ronne Ice Shelf (Antarctica)
77° 51' 19.79" S -61° 17' 34.20" W
USS Barracuda
“Move!” barked one of the guards. The man had a bullet-shaped head and almost no neck. He looked like he had better places to be, too, from the impatient look on his face. Jack knew exactly how he felt.
A pair of cutters appeared in the other man’s hands as he moved toward Jack.
“Try anything and I’ll put one in your girlfriend’s head,” he threatened, pointing his gun directly at Leah’s head.
Snip.
The plastic cuffs binding Jack’s ankles fell to the floor. At least he could walk, that was a good start.
“Move.” He prodded Jack in the ribs with his gun barrel.
“Where are you and bullet-head taking us? If you’re going to shoot us anyway, might as well do it here and save us the bother of moving.”
That earned Jack a crack in the snout with the butt of bullet-head’s H&K. He felt the warm blood smeared across his face from his bleeding nose and split lip. It was worth it. Jack made note of the fact that bullet-head riled easily. That mi
ght come in handy.
“Move,” the man ordered with his gun raised to smash Jack in the face again if he didn’t comply.
Jack slipped off the table and stood with the others. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, now get moving,” the other guard poked the captain in the ribs with his gun, urging him toward the control room.
A large acorn shaped object sat on the dock alongside the U-Boat. The black plastic that shrouded the 9 foot tall cargo clung tightly enough for the underlying shape to be unmistakable.
“Well fuck me sideways,” Jack whispered to himself as they were herded past the veiled bell shape. “That’s what they sent me here to snatch.” Pity they didn’t send a few more men, he thought to himself.
All six of them were shepherded onto the low concrete wet-dock to which the German U-Boat was tied.
Jack saw Sam standing on the deck of the U-Boat, near the open torpedo loading hatch. One eye was swollen and he looked spent but other than that he appeared unharmed as he moved over to join them. As he jumped from the deck to the dock, Jack noticed that his hands too had been cuffed, his sheer size and strength had painted him as a threat.
“This isn’t good, Jack,” he said quietly so only Jack could hear him. “I’ve heard them talking. These wackjobs are fucking Nazis. Can you believe that?” he hissed.
“Actually, now you mention it, that kind of makes perfect sense in a weird way.” Jack nodded slowly as his covert op wheels began to turn and he started to put things together. The accents, the weapons, the U-Boat, the U-Boat captain’s log, that bell thing. Not to mention their time travel discussion.