Ice Fortress (A Jack Coulson Thriller)
Page 20
“If this is a typical day at the office for you, Coulson, I’m glad we won’t be working together any more. I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Chapter 71
November 9, 2017, 13:10 UTC
U-Boot-Bunker (Submarine Pen)
Kriegsmarine Base 211
Ronne Ice Shelf (Antarctica)
77° 51' 19.79" S -61° 17' 34.20" W
“What’s that?” Jack pointed to the empty U-Boat pen where the Barracuda had been berthed. His view was unobstructed from the conning tower as he climbed through the hatch ready to give Sam a hoist by his good arm.
Something yellow with bright running lights all around it broke through the surface of the water and lit up the bunker.
“It’s Nellie!” cried Juan and Dave in unison.
“Nellie?”
“The AUV. We thought the Russian torpedo had nailed it. Apparently not. Like her 007 namesake, she’s full of surprises,” Jameson explained.
Juan and Dave looked at each other excitedly. Juan’s negativity seemed to slide off him like he was wearing a Teflon suit.
“Okay, let’s hear it.” Jameson rolled his eyes.
“We can use her to get a signal to PACOM.” Juan’s voice was squeaking with excitement. “The subroutine little miss back-stabber embedded in her code can be modified to send a signal to PACOM if you give me the frequencies and authentication codes we need for them to pay attention.”
“Don’t you need computers and cables and stuff to do that?” Jameson asked.
Dave pointed to the dock where Muller’s men had dumped the equipment they’d ripped out of the Barracuda to make way for the bell. “All we need should be right there. We just need to plug a console into one of Nellie’s uplink ports and we’re good to go. She’s got enough power in reserve to get out into open water and transmit for hours.”
Jack was impressed. “Maybe you science guys are good for something after all.”
Chapter 72
November 9, 2017, 13:30 UTC
Signals Intelligence (SIGINT)
Fort Meade
Maryland
39° 6' 32"N 97° -76' 46 17" W
AD Preston’s door burst open but before he could yell at the young man waving a printout in his hand, he was interrupted.
“They’re alive!”
“Who’s alive?”
“Coulson and a few survivors from the Barracuda,” the young man clarified.
“But that’s just not possible …” Preston let his words hang in the air. Of course, no one else knew about the Tomahawk and its nuclear warhead.
Nobody could survive that.
“Has it been verified?” Preston enquired, hoping it was all a mistake.
“Yes, sir. It’s an authenticated message from the Barracuda’s captain. Only he has that authentication code.”
“And there’s been no … other report from down there?”
“No sir. Should there have been?”
“That’ll be all.” Preston waved his hand absently dismissing the man.
Chapter 73
November 9, 2017, 13:45 UTC
U-Boot-Bunker (Submarine Pen)
Kriegsmarine Base 211
Ronne Ice Shelf (Antarctica)
77° 51' 19.79" S -61° 17' 34.20" W
Jack had left the science brigade and the two Barracuda officers alongside the generators with Sam. It was the warmest place for them to hunker down until help arrived. They had blankets and Sam was cocooned in a bundle of old German pea coats to keep him warm. He’d lost a lot of blood but seemed to be stable, for the moment.
Jack closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers over his stubble. He couldn’t remember when he’d last shaved. Or slept. Or eaten. The concrete of the bunker was cold and hard against his back, but he was too fatigued to move, opting instead to enjoy a moments peace and look down at the nearby U-Boat getting lower in the water my the minute.
His body ached all over and the head-butt he’d given Muller had come up in a nasty lump on his scalp. Maybe that accounted for the cracking headache he was trying to deal with.
As a soldier, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in the field without a weapon. Muller had stripped him of his LWRC and his handguns. All he had was the vintage mini Fairbairn-Sykes commando dagger he’d been given as a gift by a British agent he’d once saved from beheading by extremists in Syria. The man was an ex SAS commando and an avid collector old militaria. The dagger might be old, but the 2 inch blade had been honed to a fine edge by Jack during the long flight from Pine Gap.
His hand felt for the slim and unobtrusive handle tucked inside a concealed belt sheath and he felt strangely comforted. There was no reason to not feel comfortable, the enemy had been dealt a savage blow by, ironically, their own torpedo.
Schlick. Schlick.
Fuck, not again.
That was Jack’s only thought as he turned to look over his shoulder. He half expected to see Leah with her gun bearing down on him. Again. Maybe she’d had a change of heart and didn’t get aboard the Barracuda.
He was even more surprised when he saw it was Muller. The man was like The Terminator. Indestructible.
Well, almost. Half an ear had been torn away and a flap of scalp hung over the wound like a grotesque comb over. There wasn’t time to figure out how he’d escaped the crippled sub.
Jack’s hand went intuitively to his empty holster.
“No point reaching for your weapon, Jack.” Muller sounded cocky.
Muller was soaking wet. Jack assumed he’d survived the sub implosion somehow and slithered out of the water onto the dock behind Jack.
Coulson kicked himself in the butt for letting his guard down. He should have known better.
“Lights out Jack.” Muller smiled a cruel smile that never touched his cold, hateful eyes.
Click.
That’s when Jack remembered what was clawing at his subconscious when he first saw they were using H&K MP7 machine pistols. They weren’t used in polar climates for a reason — they froze up if they got too cold. Or too wet. Muller’s weapon had now been exposed to both conditions.
If Muller had done his homework and read the LWRC brochure, he would have known that their nickel-boron coated bolts resisted corrosion and had permanent lubricity. They fired without fail even under the most extreme conditions.
“Should have bought American made, you Nazi son-of-a-bitch.”
With blinding speed and the advantage of Muller being caught unprepared, Jack whipped out the tiny commando blade from his belt and jammed it with all his strength into Muller’s inner thigh.
Muller stood, unmoved and began to smile at Jack’s wasted opportunity.
“That’ll leave a scar,” Muller sniggered. “Ouch,” he mocked.
Now it was Jack’s turn to smile.
He pulled the knife out of the wound in a slicing motion, severing Muller’s femoral artery.
Muller collapsed and bled out in less than a minute, staring at Jack in utter disbelief until his eyes closed for the last time.
Jack wiped the knife clean on Muller’s soaking wet tunic and placed it back in the sheath before limping his way back to the rest of the survivors.
Chapter 74
November 12, 2017, 07:00 UTC
Undisclosed location.
A rich smell of old leather and polished mahogany filled the dimly lit room giving it a somber atmosphere.
J. Clifford Barnes stood at one end of the room while the other occupants sat around the long table, comfortable in their aged-leather chairs. His eyes were averted respectfully. Or perhaps fearfully.
“You have failed us.” The tone of the heavily accented voice at the head of the table suggested it was a statement of fact and not a matter for debate.
Barnes remained silent.
“I want every effort made, regardless of cost, to recover the Xerum 525 canister from the wreck. Die Glocke we can rebuild, but the Xerum is irreplaceable. I will not tolerate another
failure.”
The general’s hand rested threateningly on the Vis 35 pistol holstered on his belt, the only weapon he’d brought back with him.
“Yes, Herr General.”
“We are about to continue the war on a new front. In the meantime, you have your orders.”
Barnes knew he was being dismissed and spun on his heel to exit the gloomy room as quickly as he was able.
“Barnes!” The general snapped, bringing Barnes’ speedy exit to a halt.
“Yes, Herr General?” he asked meekly, not wanting to incur the wrath of the old man at the head of the table.
“Heil Hitler.” The man’s arm extended in a crisp salute the rest of the world had not seen in a very long time.
Chapter 75
November 12, 2017, 15:00 UTC
Cheyenne Mountain Complex
Colorado Springs
Colorado
38° 44' 32.91" N-104° 50' 54.40" W
North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD)
United States Northern Command (USNORTHCOM)
The Cheyenne Mountain Complex is an astonishing feat of engineering by present day standards, but more so considering that it was built during the height of the Cold War in the 1960’s.
More than a mile inside a solid granite mountain, protected from the effects of a direct nuclear strike and EMP pulses by a series of 23 ton blast doors, the U.S. military’s ‘doomsday’ nuclear bunker is a hollowed out granite mountain housing multi-story buildings mounted on earthquake resistant springs, lakes filled with fresh drinking water and diesel fuel and all the systems needed to independently command America’s defense networks.
The entrance to the complex has gained Hollywood star status through Terminator, Stargate, Independence Day and a host of other movies and TV series. And it was that fame, above all, that captured Juan’s imagination as the matt black armored personnel carrier rounded the final bend in the high altitude crawl up the winding mountain road.
“This is where they keep the Stargate!” Juan squealed with excitement as the iconic entrance came into view.
“There is no Stargate, you crazy geek,” Dave Sutton punched his buddy in the arm.
“Oh yeah, you keep telling yourself that, then.”
Jack Coulson and Sam Krupsky sat quietly on the fold out bench opposite the two civilian scientists. After all they’d seen and been through, nothing would surprise them ever again.
Captain Jameson and Durand sat alongside. Neither had spoken for a while. There was still a lot of unresolved tension over the whole torpedo incident, as Durand referred to it.
“How’s the shoulder?” Jack tilted his head toward Sam’s bandaged and slung arm.
“Hurts like a bitch, but they tell me there’s no significant bone damage and I should regain most of my mobility.”
“Enough to stay in the service?”
Sam shook his head. “Medical discharge is in the works for me. Sucks, though. This is all I know.”
“I’m real sorry, Sam. But like you said, you were getting too old for that shit, anyway.”
“I meant too old for your shit, Jack. I was doing fine before I got sucked into your black hole of death, destruction and mayhem.”
Jack arched a brow, “Mayhem? That’s a good word, Sam. Did you manage to get some reading done on the flight to Peterson?”
The long flight to Peterson Air Force Base, the nearest AFB to Cheyenne Mountain, was a tedious flight and came on the back of a medivac flight to a Black Site where Sam was treated for his gunshot wound and the others for a variety of lacerations and abrasions.
Sam had moaned the entire flight. More than anything, he wanted to go home.
“Bite me. You don’t look so hot yourself, Jack,” Sam observed, looking over the cuts to Jack’s head that had been expertly stitched and butterflied. “Did you know they were bringing us here?”
“I had a suspicion. They don’t want us telling anyone what happened down there, that’s for sure.” Jack looked over at Juan and Dave who were goggle eyed at the sight of the Cheyenne Mountain entrance filling the windscreen. “They wouldn’t even let these two clowns call their family or friends to say they were alright.”
“Do you think they’re gonna kill us?” Sam asked calmly.
“Our government doesn’t kill its own. Besides, would they patch us up if they were going to do that?”
Sam shrugged his good shoulder in response. He wasn’t convinced and had a bad feeling about their future.
The security guard waved them through after inspecting the driver’s papers. They were clearly expected.
Continuing through the arched tunnel into the heart of the complex, Jack felt the weight of the thousand foot granite mountain above him crushing down on him like an invisible force. He didn’t like the feeling.
Eventually the armored transport stopped and they were ushered through a series of passageways and then into an enclosed walkway that took them to a freestanding three-story building. The windowless building had been built inside a hollowed out section of the mountain and looked incongruous against the hewn granite that surrounded it on all sides.
“Great,” mumbled Jack as he took in the claustrophobic atmosphere.
“Yeah, I know, right,” Juan pipped like a teenage girl.
Finally they were steered into a sterile, lifeless conference room where they were directed to be seated.
A door to one side opened and the familiar fireplug like figure of Colonel Chuck Daniels marched into the room. Only he wasn’t wearing an army uniform. Today he was dressed in a crisp Air Force uniform but other than that, he looked almost exactly the same as he had when Jack and Coulson had last seen him in Pine Gap.
Almost.
The cuff of the Colonel’s right jacket sleeve had been neatly pressed and pinned to the elbow. He noticed Coulson and Krupsky trying not to stare.
“I was lucky to get away with just losing an arm in that fracas. Bastards. We got caught with our zippers down but that won’t happen again.”
“Can I ask why we’re here, Colonel?”
“You’re a trouble maker, Coulson. You’re like a magnet for havoc and destruction, it follows you wherever you go and it sticks like shit to a blanket to anyone around you.” He scanned the two civilians, Durand and Sam.
“That’s a little exager —”
“You blew up a two and a half billion dollar submarine for chrissake, Coulson! How do we explain that to the Auditor General?”
“Actually, sir, it was …” Jack pointed in Durand’s direction.
“It doesn’t matter who actually pushed the button, Coulson, my point is that you attract trouble.”
“Yes sir. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, we could use a man like you Coulson,” Daniels said sincerely as he pulled out a chair and plopped himself down. He was plainly in pain as he placed his left hand on what remained of his right arm.
“Sir?” Jack quizzed.
“You kicked the hornets’ nest and exposed an enemy we didn’t even know we were fighting. You also uncovered The Bell. By the way, trying to cover that up has been like herding cats — damn near impossible.”
“You knew about The Bell?” Jack’s jaw dropped as the implications raced through his mind.
“Of course we knew, Coulson. How do you think we won the war against those Nazi fuckers?”
The silence in the room was palpable.
“Let me clue you in,” Daniels leaned in and began to explain.
The men sat silent and engrossed as the colonel shared one of the greatest secrets of the Second World War with them. The Allies were on the verge of surrendering to the Germans. The technological superiority of the Reich had outpaced the most exhaustive efforts of the Allied researchers and whiz kids.
“The German atomic program was the turning point,” Daniels continued, “the Manhattan project was years behind and it looked like the Germans were on the verge of testing a successful weapon. That would have ensured a
Nazi victory for sure. We’d all be speaking German right now if they’d been allowed to complete their atomic tests.”
“But how does The Bell fit into all this?” asked Jack.
“The Nazis liked to compartmentalize their projects. One hand never knew what the other was doing. Kammler didn’t know or care about the atomic bomb. He started off developing a propulsion system that used an extremely rare atomic byproduct, Xerum 525. Then he discovered that his device had the potential to move through time. When we found out about his experimental device, we saw it as the only way to turn the tide against the Nazis.”
“By going back in time and sabotaging the German’s weapons development projects,” Dave Sutton marveled as the pieces fell into place.
Juan rubbed his head. “This whole time travel paradox is making my brain hurt. I’ve got a million questions, but here’s one for starters … how did we even find out about this Bell device?”
“Ironically, that was Kammler’s own doing. One of his own test subjects went back in time and appeared in Poland just after the German invasion. He tried to warn them about Hitler’s genocide program but they all thought he was mad. A British spy, a Commander Fleming, filed a report and mentioned that the man claimed to have been sent back in some kind of German time machine. Fleming had quite a vivid imagination, according to his superiors, so not much attention was paid to the report until it was almost too late.”
After Colonel Daniel’s astonishing revelations had been absorbed by the small group, Sam asked the question that had been bugging him the whole time.
“Colonel, what the hell are we doing here and why are you telling us all this?”
“Because, gentlemen, you can’t go back to the lives you lived before all this happened. We can’t let that happen. The security risk is unacceptable.”
“So you’re going to kill us?” Juan’s voice tremored fearfully.