Atlantis Found (48 page)

“On my way,” Giordino acknowledged with a brief wave.

The second patrol boat was driving directly toward them, unaware of Pitt’s intention to run ashore. The searchlight illuminated the Grand Banks in its beam with unwavering steadiness, like a spotlight trained at a dancer on a stage. The two boats closed rapidly, running at an angle toward each other. Then the commander of the patrol boat sensed Pitt’s intentions and steered to cut off the Grand Banks and block it from reaching the shore. With less than half the speed of his nemesis, Pitt was forced to accept the fact that he was engaged in a race he would surely lose. Yet he stood at the helm with unblinking eyes and a callous determination. The fight was extremely one-sided, but he wasn’t about to turn the other cheek. The thought of failure never entered his mind.

Seeing an unexpected opportunity, Pitt yanked the gear lever and threw the Grand Banks into reverse. The boat shuddered from the strain under full throttle and came to a stop, its props beating the water in a maelstrom of froth. Then it began moving backward, its square transom pushing aside the water like a bulldozer.

Giordino appeared with Pat and Megan. He stared bemused at seeing the patrol boat about to cross the Grand Banks’ bow while their own boat was surging backward. “Don’t tell me. I’m keen to guess. You’ve conjured up another cunning plan.”

“Not cunning, just desperate.”

“You’re going to ram him.”

“If we play our cards right,” answered Pitt quickly, “I do believe we can bloody his nose. Now, everyone lie on the floor. Use whatever solid cover you can find to shield yourselves. Because it’s surely going to rain.”

There was no time to say more. The commander of the second patrol boat, not comprehending the reverse movement of his prey, altered his course so that he would cross within ten feet of the Grand Banks’ bow, come to a stop, and blast the Grand Banks at point-blank range. It was a naval tactic called crossing the T. He stood at the helm and raised one hand as a signal for the gunners to open fire.

Then two events happened in the same instant. Pitt crammed the gear lever back to full forward and the machine guns on the patrol boat opened up. The Grand Banks’ props dug in the water and sent the boat surging forward, as bullets sprayed the bridge. The glass from the windshield shattered into a thousand shards and burst all through the cabin. Pitt had already thrown himself down behind the console, one hand raised and gripping the bottom arc of the helm. He didn’t notice that the back of his hand had been gashed by flying glass until the blood began dripping into his eyes. The upper cabin of the Grand Banks was being methodically shot to pieces. The gunners were shooting high to throw sheer terror into the minds of those lying prone on the deck. The interior of the bridge was a bedlam of flying wreckage, as nine-millimeter shells shredded everything they smashed against.

The commander of the patrol boat had cut his speed and was drifting to a stop, since his gunners seemed to be enjoying close-up target practice. His satisfaction was premature, while Pitt’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The commander missed Pitt’s intent until it was too late. Before he could steer his patrol boat out of the way, the Grand Banks had suddenly jerked forward, her engines pounding at full rpms.

There came a grinding sound of twisted and tortured fiberglass and wood. The Grand Banks’ bow sliced through the starboard hull of the patrol boat and punched through to the keel. The patrol boat canted over on her port side, the crew grabbing at any solid object to keep from being pitched overboard, and began to settle almost immediately.

Pitt hauled himself to his feet, threw the gear lever into reverse, and backed the Grand Banks out of the gash in the hull of the patrol boat, allowing a rush of water to flood and gurgle into the cavity. For a moment, the patrol boat struggled back to an even keel, but then the black waters flowed over her deck and she slipped away, her searchlight still glaring as it plunged to the floor of the fjord, leaving her crew struggling to stay afloat in the frigid waters.

“Al,” Pitt said in a conversational tone. “Check the forward compartment.”

Giordino disappeared through a hatch and returned in seconds. “We’re sucking in water like a giant douche bag. Another five minutes and we’ll join our friends in the water, even faster if you don’t stop this tub.”

“Who said anything about going forward?” Pitt’s eyes locked on the direction computer. The distance to shore and the mouth of the ravine was only fifty yards, but it was an impossible span for a fast-sinking boat. Trying to move ahead would only escalate the flood of water pouring in through the shattered bow. His mind raced with a strange clarity, as it always did during crisis, considering any and every option. He sent the Grand Banks barreling through the water in reverse, which lowered the stern and raised the bow. The flooding problem temporarily solved, he warned the others. “Go out on deck and brace yourselves for the shock when we strike the rocks.”

“On deck?” Pat asked numbly.

“In case the boat rolls over when we ground, you’re better off out in the open where you can jump in the water.”

None too soon, Giordino herded the two females outside and made them sit down on the deck, backs against the cabin while reaching out and clutching the railing. He sat in the middle with both strong arms encircling their waists. Pat was frozen in pure fright, but Megan, looking into Giordino’s unperturbed face, took courage from it. He and the man at the helm had brought them this far. It was utterly incomprehensible to her that they wouldn’t make good on their word and take her safely home.

The Grand Banks was settling lower from the water coming through the damaged hull below the waterline aft of the bow. The mouth of the ravine was very close now. Black heaps of rock that Pitt and Giordino had waded past, before commencing their underwater journey to the shipyard earlier that night, rose from the blackness, ominous and beckoning. Pitt did his best to dodge around the largest of the rocks, barely distinguishing their shapes, as they were outlined by the white foam of the fjord’s two-foot waves that slapped against them.

And then one of the propellers struck with a loud metallic smack and sheared off, sending the engine racing out of control. More rocks swirled by. Then came a heavier blow and the boat shuddered but kept going several more feet, before the port side of the transom crunched into a rock that smashed the yielding wood to pieces. As though a dam had burst, a gush of water flooded across the rear open deck, pulling down the stern. The next shock came with bone-jarring impact, as the boat struck hard on and split down the keel, the wooden-planked hull tearing itself to pieces. But then the terrible crunching and grinding sounds ceased as the battered Grand Banks finally came to a stop, with only ten feet separating her ruptured stern from the edge of the rocky shoreline.

Pitt snatched up the little directional computer and rushed out the bridge door. “Everybody ashore who’s going ashore,” he shouted. He snatched up Megan under one arm and smiled at her. “Sorry about this, young lady, but we can’t hang around to find a ladder.” Then he slid over the railing and lowered himself and Megan into the frigid water, his feet touching bottom in four feet. He knew Pat and Giordino were right behind him, as he struggled over the rocky bottom and slime-covered rocks toward dry land.

As soon as his feet cleared the water, he released Megan and checked his directional computer to make absolutely certain they had the right ravine. They did. The Skycar was only minutes away.

“You’re hurt,” said Pat, seeing the dark stream of blood on Pitt’s hand under the light of the stars and falling crescent moon. “You’ve got a nasty gash.”

“A glass cut,” he said simply.

She inserted a hand under her red coveralls, ripped off her bra, and began using it to wrap Pitt’s hand to stem the flow of blood. “Now, there’s a bandage I’ve never seen before,” he murmured with a grin.

“Under the circumstances,” she said, tying the ends tightly in a knot, “it’s the best I can do.”

“Who’s complaining?” He gave her a hug and then turned to the shadow that was Giordino. “All present and accounted for?”

Giordino had Megan by the hand. “Adrenaline still pumping.”

“Then come on,” said Pitt. “Our private plane awaits.”

 
TO Sandecker and Agent Little, the wait for the next contact from Pitt and Giordino seemed interminable. The fire had died to a few smoldering embers, and the admiral seemed to have no interest in rekindling it. He puffed on one of his big cigars, covering the ceiling with a haze of blue smoke. Both he and Little passed the time sitting spellbound, listening to the tales told by Admiral Hozafel, tales he had never told anyone in more than fifty-six years.

“You were saying, Admiral,” said Sandecker, “that the Nazis sent expeditions to explore Antarctica several years before the war.”

“Yes, Adolf Hitler was far more creative than people thought. I can’t say what inspired him, but he acquired a fascination for Antarctica, primarily to populate and to use as a giant military establishment. He believed that if such a dream came true, his naval and air forces could control all the seas south of the Tropic of Capricorn. Captain Alfred Ritscher was put in command of a large expedition to explore the subcontinent. The
Schwabenland,
an early German aircraft carrier used to refuel seaplanes flying the Atlantic in the early 1930s, was converted for Antarctic exploration, and left Hamburg in December of 1938 under the pretense of studying the feasibility of setting up a whaling colony. After reaching their destination in the middle of the southern summer, Ritscher sent out aircraft with the newest and best German cameras. His flyers covered over two hundred and fifty thousand square miles and took more than eleven thousand aerial photographs.”

“I’ve heard rumors of such an expedition,” said Sandecker, “but until now I never learned the true facts.”

“Ritscher returned with a larger expedition a year later, this time with improved aircraft with skis, so they could land on the ice. They also brought along a small zeppelin. This time they covered three hundred and fifty thousand square miles, landing at the South Pole and dropping flags with the swastika emblem every thirty miles as markers for their claim of Nazi territory.”

“Did they discover anything of unusual interest?” asked Little.

“Indeed they did,” replied Hozafel. “The aerial surveys recorded a number of ice-free areas, frozen lakes whose ice surface was less than four feet thick, and steam vents with signs of vegetation growing nearby. Their photographs also detected what looked like bits and pieces of roads under the ice.”

Sandecker sat up straight and gazed at the old German U-BOAT commander. “The Germans found evidence of a civilization on Antarctica?”

Hozafel nodded. “Teams using motorized snow vehicles found natural ice caves. While exploring them, they stumbled onto the remains of an ancient civilization. This discovery inspired the Nazis to use their engineering and technical ingenuity to build a vast underground base in Antarctica. It was the best-kept secret of the war.”

“To my knowledge,” said Little, “Allied intelligence sources ignored rumors of a Nazi base in Antarctica. They considered them far-fetched propaganda.”

Hozafel gave a crooked smile. “They were meant to. But once, Admiral Donitz nearly gave it away. During a speech to his U-boat commanders, he announced, ‘The German submarine fleet is proud of having built for the Führer, in another part of the world, a Shangri-la on land, an impregnable fortress.’ Fortunately for us, nobody paid attention. The U-BOATS I commanded earlier in the war were never sent to the Antarctic, so it wasn’t until near the end, when I became commander of the U-699, that I learned of the secret base, whose code name was New Berlin.”

“How was it built?” inquired Sandecker.

“After the war began, the first step the Nazis took was to send a pair of raiders into the southern waters to sink all hostile shipping and keep the Allies from obtaining any information concerning the project. Until they were eventually sunk by ships of the British navy, the raiders captured or destroyed entire fleets of Allied shipping and all fishing and whaling ships that strayed into the area. Next, an armada of cargo ships, disguised as Allied merchant vessels, and a fleet of huge U-boats, built not for warfare but to transport large cargoes, began moving men, equipment, and supplies to the area of the ancient civilization they thought might be Atlantis.”

“Why build a base on ancient ruins?” said Little. “What military purpose did it serve?”

“The dead and lost city itself was not important. It was the vast ice cave they found under a field of ice that led from the city. The cave traveled twenty-five miles, before ending at a geothermal lake that covered a hundred and ten square miles. Scientists, engineers, construction teams, and every arm of the military—army, air force, navy—and, of course, a large contingent of SS to maintain security and oversee the operation, landed and began an immense excavation project. They also imported a large army of slave labor, mostly captured Russians from Siberia, who had built up a resistance to cold climates.”

“What happened to the Russian prisoners after the base was completed?” asked Little, suspecting the answer.

Hozafel’s face turned grim. “The Nazis could never allow them to be released and reveal Germany’s best-kept secret. They were either worked to death or executed.”

Sandecker studied the smoke spiraling from his cigar soberly. “So thousands of Russians lie under the ice, unknown and forgotten.”

“Life was cheap to the Nazis,” said Hozafel. “The sacrifice to build a fortress to launch the Fourth Reich was well worth the price to them.”

“The Fourth Empire,” Sandecker said darkly. “The last Nazi bastion and their final attempt at world domination.”

“The Germans are a very obstinate race.”

“Did you see this base?” asked Little.