Burning Angels

by Bear Grylls

  This was a hydropower unit, sited where the water was funnelled swift and powerful through the choke point. Part of the river ran into the building via a duct, and inside would lie a rotor blade – the modern form of the ancient water wheel. The thrust of the current would spin the blade, which would in turn drive an electricity generator. The building’s massive construction was to safeguard the mechanics from being crushed by a curious herd of elephants.

  All of Jaeger’s scepticism had evaporated in an instant. There was something beneath this mountain all right, something hidden way deep; something man-made that required electricity.

  He jabbed a finger further into the darkness. ‘We trace the cable. It’ll lead us to whatever needs the power. And this far beneath the mountain—’

  ‘Any laboratory has need of electricity,’ Narov cut in. ‘It’s here! We are close.’

  Jaeger’s eyes blazed. ‘Come on – let’s go!’

  They moved forward at a fast pace, tracing the cable deeper in. Encased in a steel sarcophagus to safeguard it from any harm, it snaked far into the bowels of the mountain. Step by step, they were closing in on their target.

  The cable terminated at a wall.

  The massive structure cut across the entire breadth of the cave. It was several metres high – taller than the biggest elephant. Jaeger didn’t doubt that was why it had been placed here: to stop the herds from penetrating any further.

  Where the wall met the river, there were sluices in the structure that allowed the water to gush through. He figured there would be further turbines set within those, the downstream unit being a backup power source.

  They paused in the cold shadow of the wall. Jaeger was gripped by a grim determination. The mountain was about to yield its secrets, whatever they might be.

  Soon now.

  He eyed the structure. It was a vertical sheet of smooth reinforced concrete.

  It was the border; but the border to what?

  What might lie beyond it?

  Who might lie beyond it, even? An image of Ruth and Luke – chained and caged – flashed through his mind.

  Always forward. Keep moving. It had been a mantra with Jaeger when he had served with the Royal Marines. In a fight, close the distance. He’d kept it at the forefront of his mind in the hunt to find his family, just as he did now.

  He scanned with his eyes for handholds. There were few, if any. It was all but unclimbable. Unless . . .

  He moved across to the side; to where the man-made wall met the natural cave wall. Sure enough, here was a line of weakness. Where the smooth structure butted up against the sharp crystals and bony outcrops, it might just be scalable. He could see where whoever had built the wall had smashed off some of the outcrops during construction.

  They’d done so randomly, as those outcrops had got in their way, leaving just enough to offer handholds and footholds.

  ‘This wasn’t built to stop people,’ Jaeger whispered, as he mapped out the route of the climb in his head. ‘It’s here to stop salt-hungry elephants from going any further. To protect whatever lies on the far side.’

  ‘Whatever is there that requires electricity,’ Narov hissed, her eyes gleaming. ‘We are close now. So close.’

  Jaeger shrugged off his rucksack and dropped it at his feet. ‘I’ll go first. Tie on the packs once I’m up, and I’ll haul them over. You bring up the rear.’

  ‘Got it. After all, you are – how do you say? – the rock jock.’

  Ever since Jaeger was a kid, rock-climbing had been his thing. At school, in response to a bet from a fellow pupil, he’d scaled the bell tower, free-climbing – so using no ropes at all. In the SAS, he’d served in Mountain Troop – the one that specialised in all aspects of mountain warfare. And during their recent Amazon expedition, he’d pulled off several perilous ascents and descents.

  In short, if there was something to be climbed, he was the one to attempt it.

  It took several tries, but by tying a rock on to the end of the climbing rope, Jaeger was able to hurl it up and snag one of the highest of the bony outcrops. With it looped over that, he had an anchor point of sorts; he could begin the climb with a reasonable degree of safety.

  He stripped down to the bare minimum, stuffing all extraneous gear – even his pistol – into his pack. Reaching up with his left hand, he closed his fingers around a knobby outcrop. Was it the fossilised jawbone of an ancient giant hyena? Right now, Jaeger didn’t particularly care.

  His feet made contact with similar nodules, as he used the prehistoric remains embedded in the cave wall to haul himself up the first few metres. He grabbed the rope and dragged himself up to the next solid handhold.

  The rope held fast, and he was making good progress.

  All he cared about now was reaching the apex of that wall, and discovering what it had been built here to safeguard – and to hide.

  40

  Jaeger groped for the lip of the upper surface. His fingers wriggled their way on to it, and with burning shoulder muscles he hauled his body upwards, using first his stomach and then his knees to worm his way on to the high point.

  He lay there for several seconds, his breath coming in sharp, heaving gasps. The wall was broad and flat on top, testament to the massive effort that had gone into its construction. As he had suspected, it hadn’t been placed here to stop humans. There wasn’t so much as a coil of razor wire atop it. No one had been expected to arrive here uninvited and with the intent of scaling it – that much was clear.

  Whoever had built this barrier – and Jaeger didn’t doubt any more that Kammler was somehow responsible – they had never imagined that this place would be discovered. They had clearly believed it to be undetectable, and thus secure.

  Jaeger risked a peek over the far side. The twin beams of his head torch reflected back at him from a completely still, black, mirror-like surface. There was a second lake concealed behind the wall, one set within a vast circular cave gallery.

  The entire space appeared to be utterly deserted, but it wasn’t that which drew a gasp of astonishment from Jaeger.

  Set way out in the centre of the water was a simply fantastical sight. Floating on the lake’s mirror surface was an apparition that was shockingly unexpected, yet strangely familiar all at the same time.

  Jaeger tried to keep control of his emotions and his excitement; his pulse was off the scale right now.

  He unhooked the rope from where it had snagged itself precariously and secured it properly around a small pinnacle, before lowering one end to Narov. She attached the first pack and he hauled it up, repeating the process with the second. Then Narov scaled the barrier, as Jaeger acted as her belay point, his legs straddling the wall.

  Once she was up, Jaeger flashed his light across the lake. ‘Take a look,’ he hissed. ‘Feast your eyes upon that.’

  Narov stared. Jaeger had rarely seen her lost for words. She was now.

  ‘At first I thought I had to be dreaming,’ he told her. ‘Tell me I’m not. Tell me it’s for real.’

  Narov couldn’t drag her gaze away. ‘I see it. But how in the name of God did they get it in here?’

  Jaeger shrugged. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’

  They lowered their packs to the far side, before abseiling down to join them on the ground. They squatted in the utter stillness, contemplating the next, seemingly impossible challenge. Short of swimming – and Lord only knew what was in the water – how were they going to make it to the centre of that lake? And having done so, how were they to get aboard what lay tethered there?

  Jaeger figured maybe they should have been expecting this. In a sense, they’d been forewarned in the Falkenhagen briefing. But still, to find it here, and so utterly unblemished and intact – it took his very breath away.

  In the centre of the lake beneath the mountain was anchored the giant form of a Blohm and Voss BV222 seaplane.

  Even from this distance it was simply stupendous – a six-engine behemoth tethered by its cruelly be
aked nose to a buoy. The incredible size of the thing was betrayed by the antique-looking motorboat that was lashed to its side, dwarfed by the graceful wing stretching high above it.

  But perhaps even more than the warplane’s size and presence, what confounded Jaeger most was how utterly perfect she appeared to be. There was no layer of bat guano coating the BV222’s upper surface, which was painted in what had to be its original camouflage green. Likewise, its blue-white under-surface – contoured like the V-shaped hull of a speedboat – was free of any algae or weed.

  From the upper surface of the warplane sprouted a forest of gun turrets: the BV222 was designed to operate without the need for any escort. It was a massive flying gun-platform, which was supposed to be able to shoot down any Allied fighters.

  The Perspex of the gun turrets appeared to be almost as clear and clean as the day she had left the factory. Along her side ran a row of portholes, which terminated at the fore end in the iconic insignia of the Luftwaffe – a black cross superimposed over a larger white one.

  It looked as if it had been painted only yesterday.

  Somehow, this BV222 had lain here for seven decades, being carefully tended to and looked after. But the biggest mystery – one that Jaeger couldn’t for the life of him fathom – was how on earth the aircraft had got in here.

  With a 150-foot wingspan, she was too wide to have made it through the cave entrance.

  This had to be Kammler’s doing. Somehow, he’d got her in here.

  But why had he done so?

  For what purpose?

  For an instant Jaeger wondered whether Kammler had sited his hidden germ warfare laboratory inside this aircraft secreted deep beneath the mountain. But just as soon as he’d entertained the idea he discounted it. Were it not for their head torches, the BV222 would be lying here enshrouded in utter darkness.

  Jaeger didn’t doubt that she was deserted.

  As he rested, racking his brains, he became aware of how quiet it was. The massive concrete structure of the wall blocked off nearly all sound from further down the cave system: the gouging of the elephants; the rhythmic crunching of rock fragments; the odd contented stamp or bellow.

  Here it was utter stillness. Devoid of all life. Ghostly. Deserted.

  Here was a place where all life apparently came to an end.

  41

  Jaeger gestured at the seaplane. ‘There’s nothing for it. We’re going to have to swim.’

  Narov nodded her silent assent. They began to strip down to the bare minimum. It was a one-hundred-and-fifty yard dash, and the last thing they needed in the cold water was to be weighed down by rucksacks, pouches and ammo. They’d leave everything but the essentials – the clothes they stood up in, plus footwear – by the lakeside.

  Jaeger hesitated only when it came to discarding his pistol. He hated the thought of proceeding unarmed. Most modern weaponry worked just fine after a good dousing in water, but the key now was to move fast on the long, freezing swim that lay ahead.

  He laid his P228 next to Narov’s under a small rock, beside their pile of gear.

  Jaeger wasn’t surprised to see that Narov had kept one weapon on her person, though. He’d learned in the Amazon that she was never to be parted from her Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife. It had a talismanic significance for her, supposedly being a gift from Jaeger’s grandfather.

  He glanced at her. ‘You ready?’

  Her eyes glittered. ‘Race you.’

  Jaeger made a mental note of the warplane’s location, fixing it in his mind, before extinguishing his head torch. Narov did likewise. By feel alone they stuffed the Petzls into waterproof Ziploc pouches. All was total darkness now; utter, unrelenting black.

  Jaeger brought his hand in front of his face. He couldn’t see anything. He moved it closer, until his palm touched his nose, yet still he’d not discerned the slightest thing. Not the faintest glimmer of light made it in here, this far underground.

  ‘Stick close,’ he hissed. ‘Oh, and one more thing . . .’

  He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he plunged into the icy lake, hoping to have thrown Narov and gained himself a head start. He sensed her hit the water just yards behind him, thrashing madly to catch up.

  Using long, powerful strokes to surge ahead, Jaeger’s head only left the water to grab quick gasps of air. A former Royal Marine, he felt very much at home in or on the water. The draw of that aircraft was irresistible, yet still the utter darkness was horribly disorientating.

  He’d almost given up hope of having navigated true when his hand made contact with something hard. It felt like cold, unyielding steel. He figured it had to be one of the warplane’s floats. He dragged himself out of the water, and sure enough was able to haul himself on to a flat surface.

  He reached for his head torch, pulled it out and flicked it on, flashing it over the surface of the lake. Narov was bare seconds behind him, and he used the light to guide her in.

  ‘Loser,’ he whispered as he pulled her out, needling her gently.

  She scowled. ‘You cheated.’

  He shrugged. ‘All’s fair in love and war.’

  They crouched, taking a few seconds to catch their breath. Jaeger shone his torch around, the light gleaming off the massive sweep of the wing that stretched above them. He remembered from the Falkenhagen briefing that the BV222 actually had two decks – the upper one for passengers and cargo, the lower harbouring ranks of machine-gun positions, from which the warplane could be defended.

  This close to the fuselage, he could well believe it. Here, he could finally appreciate the sheer size of the thing, coupled with her compelling grace and her incredible presence. He needed to get inside.

  He stood, helping Narov to her feet. He took a step or two ahead, but no sooner had he done so than a scream rent the silence. A rhythmic, blaring wail blasted out across the lake, echoing deafeningly off the unyielding rock walls.

  Jaeger froze. He knew instantly what had happened. The BV222 had to be fitted with infrared sensors. As soon as they’d started moving, they’d exposed themselves to the sensor’s invisible beams, so triggering the alarm.

  ‘Kill your light,’ he hissed.

  Moments later, they were plunged back into deep blackness, but it didn’t last long.

  A powerful beam of illumination stabbed outwards from the southern shore of the lake, chasing away the deepest shadows. It swept across the water, coming to rest upon the warplane, half blinding Jaeger and Narov.

  Fighting the urge to take cover and prepare for battle, Jaeger shaded his eyes from the glare.

  ‘Remember,’ he hissed, ‘we’re a married bloody couple. Tourists. Whoever it is, we’re not here to fight.’

  Narov didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the apparition all around them, as if she were hypnotised. The powerful searchlight had illuminated much of the cavern, showing off the glittering form of the BV222 in all her mind-bending glory.

  It was almost as if she were a prize exhibit in a museum.

  Incredibly, she looked good enough to fly.

  42

  A cry rang out across the water. ‘Stay right where you are! Do not move!’

  Jaeger stiffened. The accent was European-sounding. Not a native English speaker, certainly. German, maybe? The word ‘where’ had been pronounced with a slight ‘v’, suggestive of a Germanic tongue.

  Was it Kammler? It couldn’t be. The people at the Falkenhagen bunker were keeping very close tabs on Hank Kammler, ably assisted by their contacts at the Central Intelligence Agency. And anyway, the voice had sounded far too young.

  Plus there was something wrong about the tone. It lacked the arrogance that one would expect of Kammler.

  ‘Stay right where you are,’ the voice commanded again, a clear hint of menace lying behind the words. ‘We come to you now.’

  There was the snarl of a powerful engine, and the form of a RIB drew out from its place of hiding. It cut through the lake’s surface, shortly arriving at Jaeger and
Narov’s feet.

  The figure in the prow had a shock of untidy sandy hair above a straggly beard. He had to be a good six foot two inches tall, and he was white, as opposed to the rest of the men in the boat, who were local Africans. He was dressed in plain green combat-style fatigues, and it hadn’t escaped Jaeger’s notice that he had an assault rifle cradled in his arms.

  The rest of those in the boat were dressed and armed likewise, and they had Narov and Jaeger covered with their weapons.

  The tall man fixed them with a stare. ‘What are you doing here? Some mistake that you are here, I think?’

  Jaeger decided to play dumb. He thrust out a hand in greeting. The figure in the boat didn’t make a move to take it.

  ‘And you are?’ he demanded icily. ‘And please – explain why you are here.’

  ‘Bert Groves, and my wife, Andrea. We’re English. Tourists. Well, more adventurers, I guess. Couldn’t resist the lure of the crater – had to take a peek. Cave drew us in.’ He gestured at the warplane. ‘Then this thing drew us further. Kind of incredible.’

  The figure in the boat frowned, suspicion further creasing his brow. ‘Your presence here is remarkably . . . adventurous for tourists, to put it mildly. And it is also dangerous, on many levels.’ He gestured at his men. ‘I had reports from my guards that you were poachers.’

  ‘Poachers? No way.’ Jaeger glanced at Narov. ‘We’re newly-weds. I guess we were swept away by our African adventure and maybe not thinking straight. Call it honeymoon spirit.’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘I’m sorry if we caused any trouble.’

  The figure in the boat readjusted the hold on his rifle. ‘Mr and Mrs Groves – the name is familiar, I think. You are booked into the Katavi Lodge, for an arrival date of tomorrow morning?’

  Jaeger smiled. ‘You got it. That’s us. Tomorrow morning at eleven. For five days.’ He glanced at Narov, trying his best to act like the world’s most besotted husband. ‘Newly married and determined to live life to the max!’