“I think we’ve done all we can do here. I think it’s obvious that the coordinates on the Iron Cross were for the hidden base,” said Jackson. “Are you going to to call Yuri to come get us in the morning?”
“Yeah, right after supper. If Jen can provide us with the ship’s manifest, we can see if there are any relatives of the crew living here in Argentina. Perhaps they might know something about what happened.”
“You don’t think there could be a someone still alive from the original crew?”
“If anyone were still alive, they would have to be in their late eighties or nineties. There aren’t many WW2 vets left anymore.”
“Stranger things have happened,” mused Jackson.
“True enough.” Mitchell picked up their satphone and arranged for a pick up at nine the next morning.
An hour later, the phone rang. Jackson picked it up and answered it. With a grin on his face, he handed the phone over to Mitchell. “It’s your wife calling.”
“She’s not my wife,” retorted Mitchell as he took the phone and placed it to his ear.
“I heard that,” said Jen.
“Nate was being facetious,” explained Mitchell. “Besides, being on a barren island in the South Atlantic is hardly conducive to romantic thoughts.”
“Yeah, well, you had better get some when you get back home, and I mean romantic, not sexual.”
“I guess I could spring for some roses and a nice romantic dinner for two at your favorite French restaurant.”
“That’s a start.”
“Okay, I’ll work on it. I take it that you’ve been able to find information on our mystery U-Boat.”
“I sent another request to the Bundesarchiv for the sub’s crew manifest. I honestly don’t expect to hear from them for at least another twelve hours or so. What I can tell you is that the U-1309 was nicknamed The Barracuda. Hence, the stylized fish painted on the vessel’s conning tower.”
“Can anyone explain why the U-1309 was reported sunk in the Mediterranean?”
“The British Royal Navy reported sinking a German submarine off the coast of Italy on the twelfth of February, 1945. After the war, it was reported as the U-1309. Since it vanished without a trace, no one thought to question the validity of the claim.”
“Makes sense,” said Mitchell. “What can you tell me about the wartime relationship between the Nazis and the Argentines?”
“Before and during the war, Nazi agents were very active among Argentina’s large German population. The Argentine armed forces were very pro-German. Under intense U.S. pressure, she entered the war on the Allied side, but not until March of 1945 when the war was all but over. After the war, Argentina became one of the main destinations for the Odessa organization. Prominent Nazis who lived in Argentina to avoid war crimes charges included Adolph Eichmann and Josef Mengle.”
“At least Eichmann was brought to trial in Israel and hanged for what he did,” observed Mitchell. “Jen, did you find out anything regarding my question about submarine pens built outside of Germany?”
“The Germans established bases in both Norway and France during the war. Because of the shipping losses sustained during the Battle of the Atlantic, these bases were the frequent target for allied bombers. I could find absolutely nothing about a pen being constructed in Argentina or anywhere outside of Europe. This is going to come as quite a shock to a lot of military historians when this is announced.”
“I bet it will. Thanks, Jen, this has been most helpful,” said Mitchell. “I look forward to hearing from you in the morning. Hopefully by then you’ll have the ship’s manifest.”
“So do I.”
“Jen, did you get a chance to ask Mike how Alexander is paying for all of this? The last time I checked, generals weren’t millionaires.”
“He said that Alexander made an agreement with General O’Reilly for a percentage of the finder’s fee when we locate the treasure.”
Mitchell shook his head. He could see the company taking a loss with this assignment. “I hope the general knows what he’s gotten us into.”
“I’m sure he does,” replied Jen, her voice optimistic. “Give me a call when you get to Ushuaia. Try and get a good night’s sleep.”
Mitchell chuckled at the last comment. “I’ll try, but with Sleeping Beauty here snoring louder than a jet engine when he’s fast asleep, I’ll be happy to get home to you.”
“Me too. Oh, one last thing—there’s been another serious altercation in the Aegean. A pair of Greek and Turkish warplanes flew too close to one another and clipped wings. Both pilots ejected; however, they only found the Greek pilot. The Turkish government has called the latest incident a declaration of war. Both countries’ navies are putting to sea as we speak. On the news, it was reported that President Kempt talked to the leaders of both Turkey and Greece. He has offered to deploy the Sixth Fleet to the Aegean to act as a buffer between the two fleets.”
“Sounds like that UN conference can’t happen soon enough,” observed Mitchell.
“There’s talk of it being moved up a day or two.” After a few more words, Jen ended the call.
Mitchell relayed all of Jen’s information to Jackson.
“You know, I saw a documentary on a secret Nazi base in Antartica,” said Jackson. “Perhaps there is a grain of truth to the conspiracy theory, after all. When you think about it, we’re not really that far from Antarctica.”
“You know I don’t put much faith in outlandish conspiracies, Nate; however, until today, I wouldn’t have believed that there was a secret U-Boat pen on this island, either.”
Jackson’s stomach growled loudly. “Since we’re leaving tomorrow, I say we break into the rations and have another meal.”
“Yeah, okay, but I get to pick his time,” replied Mitchell, tired of always getting handed whatever Jackson didn’t want to eat.
21
Safe House
Alberta, Canada
With night falling, a mud-spattered pickup truck pulled off the side road and parked under the cover of a clump of trees. Two men got out of the vehicle and warily surveyed their surroundings.
“I told you there wouldn’t be another soul kicking around out here,” said a skinny man with a shaved head and tattoos covering his hands and neck.
“I know, I just want to be sure, that’s all,” replied the man’s accomplice. As obese as the other man was skinny, this man had a shaggy beard and he wore dirty blue jeans with a matching jacket. His neck and hands were adorned with Nazi symbols.
“Come on, let’s get to work. I don’t want the Mounties to drive by and ask us what we’re up to,” said the skinny man.
“Yeah, all right,” replied his friend. He reached into the back of the truck and pulled out a large plastic suitcase. He placed it on the ground and opened it. Inside was a store-bought UAV that looked like an octopus with rotors on the end of each of its eight limbs. Suspended underneath was a video camera.
A minute later, the UAV was airborne. The fat man flew the drone using a handheld controller. The drone rose into the sky and hovered over the trees for a moment before flying away from the road.
“Head more to the west,” said the slender thug as he stared at a tablet, watching the images sent back by the drone.
The man controlling the craft made the corrections. A few seconds passed before a wooden cottage near a lake came into view.
The bald Nazi grew excited. “That must be the place. Get closer!”
The fat man shook his head. “This thing ain’t real quiet. We can’t get too close or they’ll hear us.”
“Quit being a pussy.”
“Screw you. I don’t want to go back to jail…not for something like this.”
The skinny man spat out a mouthful of chewing tobacco spit onto the ground. “Okay then, do something. Trying zooming in with the damned camera.”
The image of the cottage instantly grew larger.
“I don’t see anyone. Pan around,” ordered the slender m
an.
For close to five minutes, the UAV hovered just above the trees by the lake, sending back live feed images to the men. They did not want to push their luck and were about to call it a day when two people came into view. They were walking along, engaged in conversation. Both were women. One had Asian features, and the other was slightly older with black hair.
“I think we found her,” said the fat man gleefully.
“One second,” curtly replied his friend as he brought up a recent picture of Elena Milos on his tablet. He grinned from ear to ear. “You’re right, it’s her.”
“Who’s the other person with her?”
The skinny man shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know…don’t care. We just earned ourselves five grand a piece. Bring the UAV home and let’s get the hell out of here.”
With a cloud of dust trailing behind their truck, the two men sat back and congratulated one another. Years ago, both men had tried and failed to join the army. Now they belonged to another organization, one that contained like-minded people from all over the globe. They knew that once they sent the pictures of Elena Milos to the man who had hired them that they would be coming back. This time, however, they would be bringing some of their friends, and a lot of weapons, with them.
22
Roberts Island
Mitchell opened his eyes. It was still dark inside their tent. He could hear the rain pelting the outside. He checked his watch and saw that it was coming up on four in the morning. He thought about rolling over and going back to sleep for another hour, but his full bladder had other ideas. Cursing the weather, Mitchell crawled out of his warm sleeping bag, put his boots on his feet, slipped his jacket on and grabbed a flashlight. He quietly unzipped the opening to the tent and stepped outside.
The cold rain was coming down so hard that Mitchell could barely see more than fifty meters in front of him. An icy breeze blew across the bay, making him shiver. He zipped up his jacket and pulled his hood up to stop the rain from going down the back of his neck.
Mitchell turned on his flashlight and reluctantly trotted over to a spot behind one of the old whaling camp’s buildings to relieve himself. On his way back to the tent, a sound reached his ears. He stopped in his tracks and turned his head towards the cove. It was faint, but Mitchell was certain that it was the sound of an outboard motor’s engine. As he stood there listening, the sound grew louder and closer by the second. The hair on the back of his neck went up. Something wasn’t right. They were not expecting anyone. He swore loudly, and then clicked his flashlight off to avoid drawing attention to himself.
He bolted back to the tent, unzipped the door and dove inside. He shook his sleeping friend. “Nate, wake up! Company’s coming.”
Instantly, Jackson sat up. “What did you say?”
“No time. Get out of bed, grab your clothes, and for God’s sake don’t forget your pistol.”
With Mitchell leading, the two men dashed away from their shelter and took cover behind a rocky outcropping. Nate hurriedly pulled on his clothes and Ryan added his extra layers before they checked their weapons.
Mitchell peered over the rocks and looked out at the bay. Between the darkness and the falling rain, he couldn’t see a thing. However, he could definitely hear the sound of a couple of engines, closing in fast.
“Jesus, Ryan, what the hell is going on?” asked Jackson, wiping the freezing rain from his face.
“I don’t know, but I think there are two boats out there. And I seriously doubt that the Chilean or Argentine navies would sneak into the inlet to pay us a visit in the middle of the night,” replied Mitchell.
Jackson turned his head and looked out towards the water. “They’re unlit. If our visitors were legitimate, those boats would be lit up like a Fourth of July parade for safety. Who do you think they are?”
“No idea. Pretty sure it’s not a social call, though.”
“I think you’re right,” said Jackson, as he pulled back on the slide of his pistol, loading a 9mm round into the chamber.
The second the two black, military-style Zodiacs ran aground on the rocky beach, the men in the boats jumped out and ran forward a few meters. As one, they each dropped to one knee and scanned their surroundings. Had it not been raining, the men would have been wearing night-vision goggles. However, the cold, blowing rain made wearing them impractical. They would have to rely on their years of training. Armed with silenced MP5 submachine guns, the men were ready for action.
A tall man in a camouflage uniform stood up and pointed towards the building Mitchell and Jackson’s tent was set up behind. Instantly, four of his eight men got up and ran forward, covered by the remainder. When they came to the shelter, they spread out, brought up their weapons and waited. The team leader removed a stun grenade from a pouch, pulled the pin and threw the grenade into the tent. A couple of seconds later, it exploded loudly. Designed to blind and disorient an opponent, the stun grenade was non-lethal.
While the other men covered him, the man turned on a small flashlight attached to his weapon’s forestock and poked his head inside the tent. Through the lingering smoke, he could see that they had missed their prey. He swore loudly, then spoke into the mic on his radio headset. “Sir, they’re not here.”
On the beach, Axel Beck, a former member of German Army Special Forces, raised a hand to block the rain and surveyed the abandoned whaling station. His targets could be hiding anywhere. His file on Mitchell and Jackson had told him that the men he had been sent to neutralize were tough and resourceful opponents. He had hoped to be heading back to his ship anchored off the island by now. If it took longer, so be it. He gave orders to his men. “Lang, you and your men will search the camp from where you are over to the cemetery, while Woll and his team search the remainder of the buildings.”
Beck watched as his men moved forward silently, like wraiths in the night. He had trained them himself. Each man was ex-military and was as devoted to the cause as he was. His orders had been clear. The Americans were to be captured for interrogation.
“Damn,” said Jackson under his breath as the unknown assailants stood around their tent. “I don’t like the look of this. Whoever they are, they could have killed us in our sleep. They want us alive.”
“I think I can see nine of them. Five on the beach and four over by the tent,” whispered Mitchell. “How much ammo do you have on you?”
“I have three full magazines, including the one in the pistol,” replied Jackson.
“Me too. I hate to say it, but they outnumber and outgun us.”
“What do you want to do?”
Mitchell glanced around. “We can’t stay here. They’ll find us before too long. And if we make a run for it, we’ll be gunned down before we got twenty paces.”
“I guess that leaves us only one option.”
Mitchell looked over at his friend and said, “Yeah, I suppose it does. Which group do you want?”
“You’re in better shape. I’ll take the closest one.”
Mitchell stuck out his hand. “Good luck, and keep your head down, Nate.”
“You too, Ryan, you too,” replied Jackson, shaking his hand. Both men knew they would die for the other.
With his pistol clutched tight in his hand, Mitchell crept out from behind the rocks they were using for cover and snuck towards the nearest wooden building. Behind him, Jackson was also on the move.
23
Beck moved over beside Woll’s men as they took up a position outside of a building that had once been the warehouse. It was here where the barrels of whale oil would have been prepared and then stored until a ship returned to take the precious cargo to Buenos Aires. He had studied the layout of the settlement until he had every building memorized. If his quarry were here, they would be hiding in one of camp’s abandoned structures.
He was about to give an order to Woll to begin checking the buildings when he saw a man trip over something in the dark. A second later, the man fell facefirst onto a piece of corrugated iron
that years ago had fallen from the roof of the old warehouse. The thunderous noise reverberated through the ghost town.
Beck cringed. Pieces of roofing, glass, and wood littered the ground. He walked over to the team leader. “Dammit, Woll, tell your men to watch out. There’s crap lying around everywhere. In this rain, the ground is going to be as slippery as all hell.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Woll. He would have words with the mercenary when they got back to their ship. He turned his head and looked back at his men. “Okay, move out. Ten-meter spacing. We’re going to check the buildings in pairs and, for God’s sake, watch where you place your feet. Halberg, you’re with me.”
A man nodded his head and stepped carefully over to Woll. The other two men slid over beside the open door of a building.
Beck stood where he was and watched. The rain did not bother him. He had grown up on the Baltic Sea and was used to it. He decided to keep back and not get involved with the search. Aside from the fool who tripped over his feet, he was confident that his men were more than capable of ferreting out the two Americans. Time, however, was slipping by. He glanced down at his watch and saw that they had about an hour before the sun came up on the horizon, and they needed to be long gone by then.
Mitchell dropped to one knee and peered around the side of an overturned whaling longboat that he was using for cover. He wasn’t surprised to hear the men nearest to him speaking German. He had expected the intruders to be from one of the neo-Nazi groups that had attacked them in Madrid. Rain was streaming down his face and beginning to trickle down the back of his jacket, and he regretted not grabbing his ball cap before leaving the tent. Carefully, he rose and edged forward until his back was resting against the wooden wall of one of the old buildings. Mitchell could hear a couple of men moving about inside the house. No matter how hard they tried to remain quiet, the decades-old debris covering the floors crunched under their combat boots.
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