Game of Shadows (18 page)

"I'm glad they did." Sean's matter of fact response was reaffirmed by a nod from Irena. "Where does this come out?"

"It merges with a natural cave not far from here. That cave comes out on the coast, not far from the bay."

Sean tried to recall seeing a cave entrance on his way in, but he'd been focused on other things. The two continued their downward spiral for another five minutes, going deeper into the small mountain. The stones that matched the mansion had ceased once they were beyond the second story level, turning into rock that was hewn from the earth, chiseled away by years of patient work or perhaps some nineteenth-century machinery. The wires running along the wall from light to light were covered in cobwebs, showing how long they'd been sitting, fixed to the wall.

A cold draft of salty air shot up through the passage and grew stronger as they kept moving. Irena looked back. "Air from the ocean. We're almost there."

Sixty seconds later, she stopped at a hole in the middle of the staircase. The steps ended abruptly and opened up. If he'd been hurrying and not paying attention, Sean could have easily fallen through. Down below, they could see light pouring into a cave and onto the sandy floor. The drop down was only eight feet, which wouldn't be a problem for Sean, but he was immediately concerned about Irena.

The older woman systematically undid the straps to her shoes and removed them. Clutching them in one hand, she crouched down low.

"Irena, let me go first, and I'll catch..."

Before Sean could finish his sentence, the woman dropped through the cavity and down to the sand below. She landed on her feet and rolled to the side as if she'd done the maneuver a thousand times. She stood back up and dusted herself off, then looked back up at Sean. "Come on. We don't want to stand here and freeze to death," Irena beckoned.

Sean grinned and shook his head. He crouched down low and let himself drop through the opening. He hit the sand a little harder than expected, but was able to keep his balance and stay on his feet.

Irena motioned for him to follow and led the way to the cave's mouth. The ocean's waves rolled constantly to the shore, churning up white foam in the dark-blue water. Off to the left was the pier where Dothan's seaplane was tethered. Left of that was the red shack standing close to the cliff wall. White plumes of smoke wafted out of the chimney and blew away, disappearing almost instantly in the vigorous ocean breeze.

"My pilot is in there," Sean pointed at the building. "We can call for help inside."

She kept close as Sean navigated the hardpacked sand covering the two hundred yards to the shack. He knocked on the door three times before pushing it open. "Dothan?"

"In here," the familiar voice answered.

Off to the right, the sound of a boat's engine groaned loudly. Sean looked around the edge of the doorway as Irena stepped inside. It was a Mark V, one of the primary transportation vessels used by the Navy SEALs. The boat cut through the waves like a knife, its low profile, stealth, and angular design allowed it to move faster than similarly sized ships, even in choppy seas.

Sean ducked inside and watched from the shadows as the Mark V zipped through the waves and out to sea, headed toward the three islands a few miles away.

"Close the door," Dothan said in an irritated tone. "You're letting out all the heat."

Sean made sure the Navy ship didn't circle back around to their location before closing the door tight. The shack was minimally outfitted. A small table and two old wooden chairs were packed into the far corner opposite of a tiny kitchenette. The stove was only half the size of a typical kitchen stove, and the cabinets only had three compartments hidden behind bland, unfitted wooden doors. An ancient sofa with torn upholstery sat in front of a black iron wood stove, the source of the smoke they'd seen earlier. A door at the back of room revealed a toilet and sink. The place smelled of onions and herbs.

"Who's this?" Dothan asked, pointing at Irena, who stood with her arms crossed, rubbing her extremities to get warmed up.

She found her way over to the stove and put her hands out to warm them.

"This is Irena Stoepel. She's who I came here to find."

Dothan sipped on a bowl of broth and noodles with a spoon that was way too big for the task. He swallowed a mouthful and wiped his lips with his sleeve. "You look like hell. What happened to you?"

"I was followed. The other person I came here to see was killed. Irena and I barely escaped from her house before they set it on fire."

The old pilot set the bowl down, a look of concern crossing his face. "How'd you manage that? And who followed you?"

"Americans. Navy SEALs to be more precise. A man named McClain, an admiral in the Navy, is leading them. Apparently, he's switched over to the dark side."

Irena cut in. "We escaped through an underground passage attached to a nearby cave. That's how we ended up here."

Dothan took in the information, disbelief written all over his face. He stood up and walked over to the front corner of the house where he had a basket filled with blankets, an old coat, and a couple of toboggan-style hats. He snatched up one of the blankets and wrapped it around Irena's shoulders. "Here. This will help you warm up faster. Would you like a bowl of soup?"

She smiled at him but politely declined.

He returned his attention to Sean. "You're lucky to be alive. Navy SEALs are no joke. They're the best of the best."

"So I've heard."

"If what you're saying is true, and some of them have gone rogue, it'll be hard for anyone to stop them, whatever it is they're doing."

"Dothan," Sean interrupted the kind moment, "I need you to take me out to some islands a few miles to the east. There are three fairly close together. Do you know which ones I'm talking about?"

"Yeah. There's nothing out there, though. Just a bunch of rocky patches of land. Planning on doing some sightseeing?"

"Not really. It's time to put an end to this. I don't suppose you know where I could get some scuba gear and ammunition."

Dothan's right eyebrow rose as the corner of his mouth stretched to a grin. "Scuba gear? There's a place in town that sells dive equipment. They should have everything you would need. You're crazy to take on a bunch of SEALs, especially in their preferred habitat. I can get you out there, but after that, I don't know if I'll be much help. If they try to take out my plane, I'll have to bug out quick."

"Yeah, I know."

The pilot nodded. He thought about the prospects for a minute, pining over the dangers. "All right. Yeah, why not?  And I've got some bullets here in the shed." He walked over to a wooden box in the back near the bathroom and lifted the lid. Inside were several cardboard boxes full of shells. "Forty-caliber hollow points okay?"

"That’s my favorite flavor."

San Sebastián, Argentina

The alarm on Sean's phone started beeping, barely audible above the moan of the seaplane's single engine. He'd forgotten to turn it off earlier when he found out about Admiral McClain's deception. Now he knew that they were probably never going to let Dr. Ott go. The upside was that they wouldn't kill her either. McClain needed her to create whatever superweapon he wanted to pawn off to the highest black market bidder. Without her, it was unlikely he could even get the thing to work. He'd have to have her alive, which gave Sean a little hope.

On the way into town to buy the things he needed, Sean escorted Irena to one of the local hotels and helped get her set up for the night. No one would know she was there because he used one of his fake passports and government-issued money to get the room. She thanked him and asked him to be careful on his mission. She wasn't the only one who was concerned. Dothan had a bad feeling about going up against a band of SEALs. He'd voiced his concerns with Sean, but there was nothing else that could be done. If they waited for reinforcements, it would be too late.

Dothan was right. Going into a den full of corrupt SEALs and their leader was suicidal, but he had to try. It was why he'd rejoined Axis. Better him than someone else. Sean had the skill set to get things done that other people couldn't. At least that's what he kept telling himself as Dothan guided the plane low over the whitecaps of the ocean.

Sean stepped into the back of the plane to recheck the equipment he'd purchased in town. Regulators, masks, dive suit, fins, and a Sea-Doo RS2 underwater scooter. The latter would help him move faster underwater, and speed was of the essence now. After purchasing the scuba gear and a few other necessities, Sean returned to the shack on the coast and started to make preparations. He spent the next few hours examining maps of the island, recalling the exact place the painting had highlighted, and pinpointing it on a topographical map Dothan had provided.

They'd decided going in after sunset would be best. Once dark settled in, any personnel McClain had left behind on the shore or on the Mark V would have a more difficult time spotting their approach. The seaplane was anything but quiet, so Sean had decided that a quick drop-off would be best.

Dothan would fly out toward the islands and feign engine problems, which would require him to land. He would keep his distance from the Mark V to make sure Sean's movements weren't spotted then take off again.

It wasn't the best plan, but it would have to do.

"Coming up on the islands now," Dothan said into the headset. Sean nodded, acknowledging the information. "Last chance to change your mind about this," the pilot added.

"No choice," Sean replied. "If I don't at least slow them down, they'll get away, and we may never find them again."

"All right then. Hold on. I'll give you enough time to hop out, and then I'll be gone. Keep this flare with you." He handed Sean the red flare gun.

Sean put it into his small gear bag along with the two weapons and ammunition he'd procured. He'd already put on his wet suit before taking off. Now he harnessed the air tank and the other equipment so that when Dothan stopped the plane, he could be out and moving within five seconds. He rechecked the weapons one last time to make sure they were ready to fire at a moment's notice. First, he tested the slide on the .22 he'd taken from Irena's desk then looked over his Springfield.

"Here we go," Dothan announced through the headset.

The engine started to sputter as he flooded the mixture with too much fuel and not enough oxygen. The descent wasn't as bad as Sean had thought, which made him think this wasn't the first time his pilot had performed the maneuver.

Dothan tilted the plane to the right, away from the front side of the island where the Mark V would be anchored. Though the boat wasn't visible, both men aboard the plane knew it was there, waiting menacingly.

"If they start firing their guns, take her around to the rear of the island, and drop me off there. I'll figure out another way." Sean's words brought a twinge of concern on the pilot's face, but he pressed on.

The Mark V was outfitted with a pair of 7.62-mm M134s, based on a Gatling gun and a couple of .50-caliber machine guns. The combined firepower would rip the plane to shreds in seconds if it got too close.

As they approached, however, the boat did not open fire, which meant they hadn't seen or heard the plane, there was no one on board, or they were waiting on orders from the admiral. The pilot had rigged a kill switch for the lights on his wings and underbelly so he could fly almost invisible in the night sky when the situation called for it. Sean wondered how many times he'd used that in the past. In any case, Sean wanted to make sure he got into the water as fast as possible to keep Dothan from danger. He might have been a smuggler, but Sean's assessment of the pilot was that he was a good man.

The pontoons under the plane began to scrape the tops of the ocean waves. The plane vibrated harshly for several seconds before the floats settled deeper into the water. Sean opened the side door and waited for the plane to slow down enough so that he could exit.  He gave the gear bag one last tug to make sure it was secure and then hefted the sea scooter off the floor, bracing himself with his free hand on a rung positioned to the left of the doorway. Icy-cold air blasted through the opening, stinging the exposed portions of his face. He flinched but didn't turn away. When he got into the water, it would be nearly as cold. Might as well get used to it
now
.

Dothan throttled down the plane's engine and brought it to a near stop, letting it idle slowly through the choppy water. Sean gave a last, grateful nod to the pilot and eased quietly into the water, stepping down onto the pontoon and then into the dark sea.

The moment he was off the plane, Dothan throttled back up, and the engine began running normally again. Sean floated in the water for a minute, watching the shadowy outline of the seaplane as it turned away from his position and accelerated toward the south, ever increasing the distance between it and the dangerous special forces ship that lurked off the island coast. Sean turned around and marked his destination in his mind.

The clouds that had been covering the sky for the majority of the day had dissipated, and the pale light of the moon began to peer through the cracks in the soupy gray above. With the extra illumination, Sean could make out the outline of the navy ship, about three hundred yards away. If there was anyone aboard, they would have heard the plane and reported in and likely pursued the pilot until he was out of range. Unless, of course, their little ruse had worked.

He switched on the scooter and began kicking his feet. The Sea-Doo underwater scooter was also equipped with lights, but Sean kept those off for now. He would need them once he reached the shoreline and started exploring the cliffs, but for now, his approach needed to be as stealthy as possible.

The little motor hummed quietly under the surface, zipping Sean through the breaks faster than he'd expected. He'd never used one of the scooters before and questioned whether it would have enough power to effectively transport him quickly over a decent distance. So far, he was pleasantly surprised.

He steered the scooter to the right, aiming it at the coast to keep from being spotted by any crew on the Mark V. As he got closer, he could see the dim red lights inside the ship's cabin, along with a black silhouette. From the looks of things, they'd only left one man aboard. Of course, there could always be more in the other parts of the ship, but something told Sean that Admiral McClain had only left one man aboard as a precaution, electing to take the rest with him to help with whatever they discovered inside the island's bowels.

A hundred yards from shore, Sean slowed the scooter and angled it downward. The machine pulled him under, and he maintained the low speed until he'd reached twenty feet below. He switched on the lights, and the eerie blackness of the sea became brighter. The water in front of him was clear for the most part. He could see the huge mass of land, presenting itself as a massive shadowy object just beyond the line of the light's beam. The scooter hummed quietly in front of him, pulling him quickly toward the island's foot. The lights reached the rocky shoreline and revealed more details of the brownish-black jagged surface.

He slowed the scooter's speed when he got to thirty feet from the underwater cliff, and turned left. According to his memory and where the Mark V was parked out in the open water, the location from the painting had to be nearby. He trolled slowly along the shoreline, scanning the rocks for signs of anything unusual.

It didn't take long. After only a few minutes, Sean slowed the scooter to a halt and hung in the water for a moment. He turned the machine, pointing it at a gargantuan cavity in the side of the rock. The blackened cave entrance was easily sixty feet across and fifty feet from bottom to top. The upper lip of the oval-shaped entrance was under the surface of the water by a good ten feet, which meant it was invisible from above the water line.

Sean took a quick look around to make sure none of McClain's men were lurking in the shadowy depths and accelerated into the abyss. He kept his speed low, progressing carefully forward. His eyes observed the sides of the cave's walls, and he deduced that while the opening had originally been a natural occurrence, machinery had come through and hewn out more rock to accommodate something huge, like a submarine. He wondered what kind of machinery they'd used to carve out the ancient rock.

Up ahead, he noticed the pitch black of the cavern was changing to a dim, yellow glow. Sean switched off the scooter's lights as he crept forward. Fifteen seconds later, the cave opened up, and he emerged from the tunnel into an underground harbor. Over to the right, a massive object appeared in the water. Its metal exterior was dark gray. The long, tubular shape extended eighty feet ahead to the far wall where the water reached an abrupt end. He could make out the shape of people moving around above, but it was hard to see through the water. He searched the area to the left, away from the U-boat and where he assumed McClain's men were working.

Steering the scooter in that direction, he made his way to the far side of the cavern and discovered a narrow ledge a few inches under the water's surface. He pulled himself up onto the platform and found that it was the first in a progression of steps. Sean kept his eyes on the other side of the cavern as he carefully lifted the scooter out of the water and placed it against the wall on the step.

When he removed his goggles, the entire scene came into clear view. The U-boat was enormous and appeared to be remarkably intact, even after seventy years. The upper part of the hull was dry and showing signs of rust here and there, but overall the submarine looked like it might well be fit enough to take out into the open sea. On top of its stern, an 88-mm gun sat silently, pointing forward at the rocky wall. Behind that, the tower rose toward the cavern's ceiling. One of McClain's men stood atop it, behind the railing, keeping watch over the work that was being done. He'd not noticed Sean as he slipped onto the far shore where the lights attached to the wall barely reached.

Sean removed his fins and left them on the dry ledge, unhooked his harness and tank, and set the gear bag down. He unzipped the latter as silently as possible and removed his weapons, tucking one into the utility belt that wrapped around his waist. Along with two extra magazines of rounds for each gun, Sean had accepted Dothan's hunting knife as an additional weapon for close-quarter combat. The seven-inch long blade was strapped to his hip in its sheath.

He looked up to the left and saw that the steps led to a path that wrapped around the rear of the cavern, all the way to where a metal catwalk had been erected, jutting out from the wall. He noticed a similar catwalk hovering over a landing next to the submarine, a rickety-looking construction that three of McClain's men occupied. Two stood on the end, probably placed there to watch the cavern entrance, except that their heads were facing toward the front of the sub. The other guy was at the far end, staring down at the work being done. An antique gasoline generator muttered a steady roll on the rock landing under the two men at the end. It had to be what was powering the old lights. Sean was amazed the thing still worked. Next to it was a pile of wet suits, tanks, regulators, and other dive equipment, including several black underwater scooters similar to the one Sean had used to get inside the cave. A spare gasoline canister sat upright next to the generator with a watertight lid screwed into place on its top. They must have done reconnaissance before setting up shop and secured the things they needed to bring inside.

He strained to see if he could hear what was going on just beyond the submarine, but it was hard to tell over the constant lull of the generator. Occasionally, he could hear voices shouting orders, but who was giving them, he wasn't sure. He assumed it was McClain.

Sean assessed his plan of attack. The only way to get over to the other side was to go up and around via the rocky path. There, he could climb up the supports of the catwalk and tuck in behind some old wooden boxes that were stacked against the railing. A guard was pacing back and forth on that particular catwalk, but if he timed it right, Sean would be able to make it up there unseen, at least by that guy anyway. Whether or not one of the others on the other catwalk would see him would be something he'd have to leave up to chance. He'd noted that every guard was equipped with Heckler & Koch submachine guns slung over their shoulders.