Project Paperclip had been a phenomenal success. The relocation of prominent German scientists to America had led to advances in medicine, weaponry, and even space travel. As the descendant of a war criminal with secrets to sell, Dieter was welcomed by the US military complex with open arms. He’d traded his father’s life’s work for a job with the Department of Defense’s fledgling DARPA unit, formed just under a decade prior in response to the Soviets’ surprise launch of Sputnik, an advance they attributed to Nazi technology being secreted out of Germany and the catalyst for the burgeoning arms race. The prospect of locating Hitler’s rumored Antarctic staging grounds proved irresistible.
So it was with a team of scientists and soldiers that Dieter set out for the bottom of the earth with his father’s maps as his guide. Using Jürgen’s handwritten notes and a prototype deep-sea submersible, they attempted to travel into the hidden heart of the continent. While they never found the base from which it was believed the Luftwaffe intended to launch its flying saucer program, they did navigate a series of underwater passages that ultimately led them to a series of caverns and what they theorized to be a deep oceanic trench that at one point in time had been rife with volcanic activity. There was no advanced technology to be appropriated, nor did they find the passage into the center of the planet, but they did find his father’s Gates of Agharta: columns erected inside a cave filled with stone chips from primitive tools and other signs of ancient human habitation.
The military and scientific applications were limited to storage and staging, should it ever come to war with South America or Southern Africa, and archeology of questionable value. Dieter, however, recognized what his father had seen so many years before. The presence of artifacts attributed to early man meant that whatever population dwelled down there had to have arrived by means other than sea or land travel. The different pockets of water through which they’d traveled had varying levels of buoyancy, which meant different specific gravities. Despite being at the heart of a frozen sea, the subterranean passages were being fed by different sources, among them warm geothermal springs and fresh water originally attributed to glacial melt, even though the majority of the crew had to be treated for giardia, a diarrhea-causing protozoan flagellate common to mountain springs sullied by deer and elk feces, which until that point had never been diagnosed on the Antarctic continent. Dieter believed that the water had to be coming from somewhere else, and in order to do so, it had to have traveled some great distance underground, either from another continent entirely or through the earth itself. It might not have proved his dead father’s theory, but it was a start.
The maps Dieter and his team created were never made available to the general public, nor were any of those created in subsequent State-funded missions that took him from the lava tubes of Iceland to the Marble Caves of Chile and everywhere in between. And while they explored countless miles of subterranean passages, they never determined which ones were connected or exactly how they were connected. Not even Thyssen, with a two-generation head start, had been able to take the next step until the accident beneath the Bering Sea caused a sudden rise in the water table and variations in salinity, revealing which subterranean features were connected, if not exactly how.
It had been his father, who now served as deputy director of DARPA, who contacted the President directly and facilitated his insertion at the site. The previous administration’s vice president had once served on the board of Halversen and was instrumental in securing no-bid oil contracts in the Middle East and cost-plus deals for defense contracts that resulted in $40 billion in profit. If everything went as planned, this serendipitous disaster would make that look like chump change. Thyssen wasn’t privy to the details of the deal negotiated between Halversen and the powers that be, and he had no desire to find out. In the end, Halversen would get the exclusive and secret contract to expand the tunnels, despite already demonstrating either gross negligence or outright incompetence, and the US government would gain unlimited access to a network of tunnels that would allow it to move military personnel around the globe invisibly and pop up from the ground as though materializing from the ether, thus realizing Hitler’s dream, only on the side of the right.
Thyssen didn’t care about any of that. All he cared about was fulfilling the vision his family had shared for nearly a century, one that had cost his grandfather his homeland, his pride, and his life. This would secure their standing within the same government that had decimated the land of his grandfather’s birth and sent him to live in exile. It was DARPA’s stated mission to create and prevent strategic surprise, and what could possibly be a greater achievement than controlling the entire inside of the planet?
Of course, there was still the variable for which they hadn’t accounted. It was down here in the darkness right that very moment, just waiting for him to find it. And when he did, he’d be able to provide the kind of strategic surprise against which there was no defense, as the people of Diomede Village had already learned.
Thyssen watched Duan slide down the rope. He was the last one. They were all assembled and on the cusp of making history.
“Echo One, do you copy?” a voice crackled through his in-ear transceiver. The communication system allowed him to remain in contact with the surface via the microphone affixed to his palm—for as long as they were able to maintain a connection, anyway. He turned away from the others and whispered into his hand.
“Copy, Speranza.”
“I think we have a problem up here,” Butler said.
“You think?”
“We have a problem, Echo One. We’ve lost contact with Echo Four.”
“He and his men are supposed to be on their way down here by now.”
“Wiley’s been unable to reach them and the others are still on the mainland.”
“Get them down here when they arrive. I want them shadowing our movements. We need a discreet armed escort that won’t frighten the civilians.”
“What about Echo Four?”
“Can’t you geolocate his beacon?”
“That’s the thing. We can’t seem to get a read on that, either.”
II
Calder mentally rehearsed their route, over and over. Already she’d lost track of time and had no idea whether it was day or night outside, or even what day it actually was. She’d spent considerable time on the ocean floor in darkness beyond the sun’s reach, but she’d always known where she was and exactly how to get back to the boat. Everything was different down here. Getting out wasn’t going to be as simple as swimming to the surface. In a pinch, would she even be able to climb back up the chute she just descended?
She forced herself to think about it logically. Regardless of its location, water behaved in a predictable fashion. It always flowed with gravity and there was always both a source and an outlet. All water eventually flowed to the sea. As long as there was a current, there was a means of escape. The only problem was she had no clue how long or far she might have to travel underground before she reached the open ocean. She’d dived in plenty of caves along the Yucatan Peninsula in flooded karst formations similar to these. That wasn’t the part that frightened her; it was the possibility that she might have to do so with a paltry fifteen minutes of air.
The others didn’t appear nearly as concerned, but they undoubtedly hadn’t watched someone drown. Nor had they seen what an aquatic predator could do when its habitat was threatened. With every foot of descent, she became more and more certain that it was only a matter of time before they did.
Why else would Halversen have brought her here? All of this talk of hominin evolution and special migration was outside of her area of expertise. The others? Their specialties all dovetailed nicely with one another’s. Hers, though? Hers was unique among them, unless one classified humans as predators. And gave them gills. The only reasonable use for her talents would be to help find whatever killed those sea lions, although she couldn’t fathom which species it could have been. The sheer quantity of
blood all but confirmed they’d been attacked on land. The image of a shark swimming through these caverns was terrifying. One that could simultaneously overcome what looked like four sea lions, though? And on dry land?
She clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking and tried to think about anything else.
The ceiling of the cavern was low and flat and maybe twice her height. Water trickled down the columns connecting the floor to the roof and accumulated in pools that reflected all of their lights. Their footsteps were made hollow by the acoustics. She heard their intonation change and watched Mitchell’s light constrict onto a flowstone wall and the triangular orifice eroded through it. She wanted to pull him aside and talk to him in private. If anyone would understand her concerns, it was he. Not just because he knew the dangers of diving on the best of days, let alone under circumstances like these, but because he’d spent considerable time exploring down here and had possibly seen some evidence of the reason that she, specifically, was here. And she didn’t want to have that conversation in front of Thyssen. She couldn’t explain why, but she didn’t trust him.
The passageway was so narrow that Mitchell had to turn sideways and duck his head. Thyssen and the others followed suit, their lights dimming. Calder hesitated. A shiver rippled up her spine. It struck her just how vulnerable she was at that precise moment and she hurried to catch up with the rest of her party, the majority of whom had already passed through the tunnel and stood silhouetted on the other side.
Damn Thyssen. She was going to corner Mitchell anyway. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it in her bones. In order to understand predators in the wild, one had to first understand the habits and behavior of their prey, which was exactly how she was beginning to feel.
She nearly barreled into the others when she burst from the far end of the passage. They stood on a stone pinnacle, high above an amoeboid swatch of water surrounded by jutting stalagmites of varying height, some of which formed columns that supported a narrow limestone arch across the width of the cavern.
“There’s no way of knowing if it’ll support our weight,” Payton said.
“We cross one at a time,” Thyssen said.
“Are you volunteering?” Nabahe said.
“Fine. I’ll go first. Give me a rope so you can belay me back up if I fall.”
“If it breaks, there’s no other way across,” Duan said. “Our only option would be to go down.”
Calder peered down at the water. Her light reflected off ripples and eddies and beneath their voices, she heard the rumble of the current. Its depth betrayed just how fast it was moving.
“We could always backtrack,” Payton said. “Maybe we missed something.”
Calder took Mitchell by the elbow and guided him away from the others.
“I need to talk to you.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “Privately.”
Mitchell glanced toward where Thyssen fed a climbing rope through his harness. He inclined his head back toward the tunnel and led her out of earshot.
“What’s really going on here?” she whispered.
“I don’t know what you—”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Mitchell started to object, then peered back at the others. Thyssen was already a dozen steps out onto the narrow limestone formation, which was barely wide enough for him to place his feet together. He held his arms out for balance as he scooted above the river.
“I don’t know. Not for sure, anyway.”
“But something’s not right.”
“Like I said, I don’t know anything for sure—”
“You can feel it, though. Like that subtle change you feel in the water when a shark swims into a reef.”
She could see in his eyes that he knew what she meant. Divers learned to trust their instincts, which were often their only allies in dangerous seas. He averted his stare.
“Yeah,” he whispered. The faint sound of droplets of condensation striking the pooled water echoed from the chamber behind them. “Something like that.”
Thyssen had reached the other side and released the rope from his harness. Duan reeled it back, hand over fist. He tied it to Hart’s harness and helped her out onto the natural bridge.
“What do you think killed those sea lions?”
Hart lowered herself to all fours and crawled across. Thyssen untied her and tossed the rope out over the nothingness for Duan to haul back in.
There was a splashing sound behind them. Calder resisted the urge to look. She wanted to watch Mitchell’s face to see if he was lying.
“Honestly? I don’t have a clue. I’ve seen orcas do that kind of damage, but I can’t see one surviving down here for any length of time. We get great whites this far north. Sleeper sharks, too. And we have seasonal goblin sharks, but they’re too small to take down a single sea lion, let alone that many.”
Payton walked confidently across the bridge without so much as looking down.
“What does your gut tell you?”
“We’re dealing with something terrestrial. Polar bears, most likely.”
Nabahe struck off across the arch, one cautious step at a time.
“All the way down here?”
A damp slapping sound, like the bare foot of someone climbing out of a pool. Calder glanced back, but didn’t see anything.
“If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”
“You coming?” Duan said.
“Yeah,” Mitchell said. “We’re right behind you.”
“But if we’re dealing with polar bears, then why am I here?”
“They’re aquatic predators, aren’t they?”
A shuffling sound caused the hairs to rise on Calder’s neck. She peeked over her shoulder. Her beam barely penetrated the darkness, which felt as though it were staring back at her.
She hurried toward where Duan waited with the rope in his hand. All the way across, she could see Thyssen standing in the mouth of a tunnel, silhouetted against the pitch-black by his headlamp. What wasn’t he telling them?
Duan offered her the rope with a smile. She heard the slapping sound behind her again. Watched Duan look past her and his eyes widen in surprise.
“Go!” Mitchell shouted and shoved her out onto the arch.
She saw her foot strike the stone and far below it the river rushing past in the glow of her light.
Mitchell hit the bridge behind her. A cracking sound echoed like a gunshot.
The lights from the far side swung toward her, momentarily blinding her. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and felt the ground fall out from beneath her.
Mitchell struck her from behind as the limestone raced toward her. She saw the jagged, broken edge rising away from her and then the cold water pulling her down.
III
Nabahe watched helplessly as they struck the water and vanished into its depths. Chunks of limestone and debris rained down onto the river. It all happened so quickly. The three of them were there one second and gone the next.
He scurried to the edge and visually searched the river. It had to be a good thirty feet down. A section of the arch erupted from the water before disappearing again. He thought he saw a face gasping for air at the edge of sight, but it was gone before he could react. He pushed himself up and prepared to dive in after them.
“No!” Thyssen shouted and jerked him away from the ledge. “You stay here.”
“Can you see them?” Payton asked.
“What happened?” Hart said. “Why did they all go out there at once?”
Thyssen turned to Payton. “Can you belay me down there?”
Nabahe stared back across the broken bridge while Thyssen tied the rope to his harness. Why had they shouted and run like that? He hadn’t seen anything. He’d been focused on the tunnel ahead of them, through which he could swear he saw a faint glow. Until now, this had almost felt like a vacation. It was too easy to forget how dangerous formations like these were. Duan should have known bette
r, though. What could have caused an experienced caver to run out onto a speleothem he knew couldn’t possibly support all of their weight at once?
The darkness beyond the mouth of the tunnel on the far side resisted his beam, which barely illuminated the orifice. The shadows shifted, or maybe it was just his imagination. He could have sworn he heard an almost guttural clicking sound that reminded him of the buzz of a rattlesnake’s tail.
Payton bellowed with the exertion. He leaned backward, braced his feet against the stalagmites, wrapped the rope around his hips, and used his own body as leverage to lower Thyssen over the river.
“Do you see them?” Hart shouted.
Thyssen twirled as he descended, until his feet were right above the water. He reached with his leg, found traction on solid ground, and pulled himself to the bank. The end of the rope hit the water and gave Nabahe an idea of just how fast the river was flowing.
Thyssen raised his hand to his mouth and appeared to whisper into his palm, then pressed both hands against his ears as though attempting to block out the sounds around him.
“We need to go in after them,” Payton said.
Thyssen shed his backpack and removed what looked like a tablet. It cast an eerie red glow. Nabahe could barely make out the pattern of dots on the screen.
“What are you doing?” Payton asked.
“Trying to figure out where they are.” Thyssen turned toward where the river flowed underneath a stone ledge, above which a delicate lattice of speleothems adorned the flowstone. “Each of these suits is equipped with a MINT transmitter. Micro-inertial navigation technology. It’s like GPS, only the signal doesn’t need to be routed through a satellite, so it works down here.”
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