EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum (28 page)

3

Friday, 29 May (10:38 a.m. CST – Baton Rouge)

Will found the bagel shop and parked the SUV. The aromas of scrambled eggs and onion bagels hit him as he entered. He wasn’t hungry.

He spotted Natalie Tate in a booth, walked over, and sat across from her.

“I’m supposed to question you regarding your whereabouts when the CP men were massacred,” she said.

“It happened around 2:00 a.m. I was sleeping. I can’t prove it,” he replied. “I would’ve been more apt to let them carry out their operation than kill them. I have no motive.” He still couldn’t believe that, for the second time in his life, he was being considered as a suspect in a heinous crime.

“We know,” she said. “You’re cleared.”

Will nodded. He felt relieved, but was still on edge. “Any leads?”

“No, but it’s connected to the hit on Jennings.”

“Now, what about Syncorp?”

Natalie nodded. “Adler is going to get us in.”

“You trust him?”

She reached into black leather knapsack on the seat bedside her and pulled out a packet of papers. “He gave me these,” she replied and pushed it across the table.

The first few pages contained a list of Syncorp employee names and addresses. Others listed more than a dozen companies connected to Syncorp. The last page was a detailed map of the Syncorp facility.

“Why don’t you just use this information and start arresting people?” Will asked.

“That’s not evidence. What we need is on their hard drives,” she said. “As soon as we’d make a move to arrest any of the people on that list, the data would be moved or destroyed. We need to acquire the digital information before we do anything else.”

“Why doesn’t Adler get it?”

Natalie raised an eyebrow and smirked. “This is too sophisticated for Adler. We need the storage drives themselves – copying them will take too much time. And we now have a window of opportunity: the computers are located in temporary storage. Syncorp is building a high security facility for digital media, and they will be moved there soon. Once in the new building, they’ll be nearly impossible to obtain.”

“How much time do we have?”

“A week,” she replied.

“Are there more agents coming?”

“No, it’s only us,” Natalie explained. “You’ll go in, and I’ll be on the outside in contact with you in case something goes wrong.”

“How am I getting in?”

“Adler will smuggle you into the parking garage. The temporary storage building is right next to it.”

“Sounds risky.”

Natalie nodded.

The danger didn’t bother him – he could protect himself – but was more concerned with failure. It was a unique opportunity. “When do we move?”

“Depends on Adler,” she replied. “It will take a few days to set up, but be ready to go at any time.”

Will didn’t want to sit around and wait, but he had no choice. In the down time he’d send Denise and Jonathan the new information Adler turned over.

4

Saturday, 30 May (8:25 p.m. EST – Antarctic Circle)

Daniel was staggered by how quickly he’d been transported halfway around the globe, from the late spring of Washington, DC, to the late fall of Argentina. It started with a commercial flight from Reagan International to Buenos Aires, followed by a cold helicopter flight to the aircraft carrier USS
Nimitz
. The next hitch unnerved him, even though the pilot had promised a gentle flight. He rode in an F/A-18F Superhornet fighter jet from the
Nimitz
, somewhere in international waters off the coast of Argentina, to the deck of the USS
Stennis
, floating in the darkness of the Weddell Sea in the Antarctic Circle.

Daniel, Sylvia, and Horace gathered in the mess hall on the
Stennis
, awaiting their rendezvous with the fast-attack sub, the
North Dakota
. Sylvia seemed to have faired the trip well, despite the sleep deprivation. Horace, however, looked as if he might expire at any time.

They’d barely finished their meals when a group of sailors whisked them away for the final, and most treacherous, leg of the trip.

They were bundled in waterproof slicks and floatation harnesses, and loaded onto a helicopter. The chopper elevated to a few hundred feet above the deck of the
Stennis
and then turned and moved into the darkness. In less than two minutes, the side door slid open, and a wind colder than anything Daniel had imagined seemed to whistle through his bones. The crew slipped a harness over his shoulders and strapped him in, while another man secured himself in another harness.

Connected to a cable, the man latched Daniel onto the front of his own harness and bear-hugged him. “Hang on,” the man yelled over the noise, “and don’t touch anything. I’ll release you at the right time.”

Daniel wasn’t going to argue. A drop into the water would mean certain death.

Seconds later he was suspended in a wind so cold that he thought he might flash-freeze. He looked down upon the black shape of the deep-sea predator beneath him. Submarines had always given him an uneasy feeling – he didn’t know if it was the way they stalked their prey and attacked without warning, or the idea of being inside such a beast. He’d never felt comfortable in close quarters, but being submerged in hundreds of feet of water, and in danger of drowning or being crushed to death, didn’t sit well with him either.

As they got closer to the
Dakota’s
deck, the air blasting from the helicopter blades sprayed a freezing mist of seawater into Daniel’s face. The taste of the salt awakened him to the reality of what was happening: he was boarding a submarine that would take him into one of the most secluded and unique finds in modern times. He’d be traveling into a dark history. He’d of course experienced such things in his mind, or seen them on paper, as his job required. But this time he’d actually be there.

Just before his feet hit the deck, a pair of strong hands grasped his harness and reeled him in. The man who’d been riding tandem released the latch, transferring him to the
North Dakota’s
deck. Daniel was than shuttled inside and down a ladder. At the bottom, another man grabbed him.

“Welcome aboard,” the young man said, pulling him along. “Let’s get you into some dry clothes. Ever wear a poopy-suit?”

Daniel had no idea what in hell’s name the man was talking about, and must have conveyed that in his expression.

The man laughed. “You look like a medium,” he said, and handed him a folded blue garment. “What’s your shoe size?”

“Nine,” Daniel responded.

The man reached in a locker and pulled out a pair of sneakers. “These are 9 ½ s, closest we have.”

The sailor led him to a room smaller than a bathroom on a commercial jet and instructed him to change clothes. “I’ll come back in five minutes and take you to the planning room where you’ll meet with the rest your group,” the man said. “You’ll meet the captain there.” He closed the door, leaving Daniel to change.

The so-called “poopy-suit” was a blue, one-piece garment that reminded him of the overalls the mechanics wore at his oil-change garage in DC. He sighed and smiled to himself. With all of the research and writing that he’d done for the past twenty years, something always seemed to be missing. Perhaps this was it: actually
doing
something,
going
somewhere.

The overalls fit comfortably, if not a little loose, and the shoes were just right. They’d given him an assortment of other clothes as well – a tee shirt, boxer shorts, and comfortable socks. It struck him funny that they’d be giving Sylvia the same attire. Even more so, it would be the same for Horace. He wondered how Horace would fare the exchange from the helicopter to the
North Dakota
. From what he knew of Sylvia, she’d find it exhilarating.

He wondered how long it would take to get to the Nazi base. He wanted to be there already. Something was beginning to stir deep inside him. Maybe this was the most important thing he’d do in his life. It was as if everything he’d ever done had merely been preparation for what he was about to do.

5

Saturday, 30 May (8:05 p.m. CST – Chicago)

The scent of cherry pipe tobacco filled Denise’s senses as she walked into Jonathan’s office. He was smoking and staring out a window into the night. She cleared her throat to let him know she was there.

As he turned, he toked on the pipe from the corner of his mouth. “Ah, Denise,” he said. “Have a seat.”

She remained standing. “Will sent us more information.”

He nodded as he puffed. “What did he get this time?”

“Lists of Syncorp personnel, locations of Syncorp branch companies, and a map of the Baton Rouge facility – updated to include some new construction,” she explained. “This goes far beyond what he got from the CP inmates. It came from a Syncorp employee.”

“Great work,” Jonathan said. “We’ll need to hire more people just to keep up with him.”

“He asked about how to go about large data transfer,” she explained. “The person on the inside is going to get him access to data storage drives.”

“Hmmm …” Jonathan walked from the window and put his pipe in an ashtray on the coffee table. “A place like Syncorp would have cutting-edge security for such things. And the files will be encrypted. Why doesn’t he let us come down there and help?”

“He won’t,” she said.

He nodded with an expression that Denise had seen many times – an indication of stubbornness. Sometimes it was a good trait.

“And he wants to know how we can protect his source,” she added.

“Tell him I’ll to talk to a few people and see what we can do.”

“Have you been watching the news?” she asked. “China and Russia have joined the training exercises around Antarctica.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s heating up down there.”

“You think it could lead to war?”

“Of course,” he replied. “When was the last time the U.S., China, and Russia all had such massive military forces in the same location? Why can’t the media see that something is going on down there?”

Denise shrugged. She was used to the media missing things. When the Red Box went down, they’d fallen for the story that a gas leak had caused the explosion. The initial stories of torture had been squelched; they’d claimed earlier reports were rumors propagated by conspiracy theorists. “You think Daniel and Sylvia are involved in some way?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Maybe we’ll find out at some point,” he said. “In the meantime, you should verify the information that Will sent, starting with the satellite companies – see if they exist and what they do. Then dig up anything you can find on the employees.”

She agreed and went to her office, pulled up the lists on her computer, and selected the first company on the list of over a dozen:
Pangor Bioengineering Solutions
, Waukesha, Wisconsin. It was a good place to start. And the sooner she verified the data, the sooner they’d get to the next step, which she hoped would involve some action.

6

Saturday, 30 May (9:51 p.m. EST – Antarctic Circle)

McHenry looked over the three people sitting in front of him: a man in his forties who looked too weak to climb a ladder; a young woman who, except for the red-highlighted hair, looked like a librarian; and a frail old man ancient enough to have designed the Nazi base himself.

For an instant he felt ashamed, then suppressed his superficial assessments and gave them the benefit of the doubt. He took a seat at the small table, making it a total of five, including himself and Lieutenant Diggs.

“My name is McHenry, the captain of this vessel,” he said, “and this is my first officer, Lieutenant Diggs.”

Diggs nodded.

“We’ll arrive at the base in a little more than three days,” McHenry continued. “I’ve been instructed to show you the important features along the way. That means dead subs and manmade structures. There are also subs in the slips below the facility.”

“Do you by chance have the markings on those subs?” Daniel asked.

“We’ll get them for you,” Diggs replied.

“We have two German translators on board if you need them,” McHenry said.

Horace nodded. “We all read a little, but we’ll need them.”

“Do you have any idea of the purpose of that place?” McHenry asked, trying to soften the formal tone of their interaction.

Horace coughed and took a sip from his mug. “We can only speculate,” he said. “But we think it’s connected to the beacon.”

“The emblem on the Nazi banner in the bay area is significant,” Daniel added.

“How so?” Diggs asked.

“It’s from a secret Nazi project called Red Falcon,” Daniel responded. “It’s also consistent with a torture chamber being in the facility.”

“Did the base have any other obvious functions?” Sylvia asked. “Other than repairing subs, that is.”

“In my opinion, the functionality of the base was for torture. Maybe they were trying to get information from people – they seemed to be trying to break some kind of code.” McHenry explained. “It being exclusively a sub base was unlikely. The mechanical facilities aren’t geared for that purpose, and the location is inconvenient.”

Daniel nodded. “We have quite a puzzle to solve. Good thing the Nazis were so organized – I saw the pictures of the library and the vault.”

“Did you have a look at the file we brought back with us?” McHenry asked.

Daniel nodded.

“I just pulled one out at random,” McHenry said. “Signed by Josef Mengele himself.”

Daniel nodded. “I’m not surprised he had a hand in this.”

“And the date,” McHenry said.

“After the war ended – 1948,” Daniel said. “If that’s correct, it must’ve been why the US launched Operation Highjump around that time. They knew the Nazis were there.”

“Highjump was just an exercise,” McHenry said, recalling the operation from his naval history class at the Naval Academy.

“You mean like the one that’s being conducted right now?” Horace countered.

McHenry nodded and smiled. “I suppose so,” he admitted. “We should learn a lot in the coming days. Now, it’s time for you three to get some rest. We’ll be at the mouth of the tunnel at 09:00.”

The civilians were escorted to their bunks, leaving McHenry and Diggs at the table.

“What do you think?” McHenry asked.

Diggs shook his head. “I don’t like it, Captain. Not one bit.”

McHenry nodded. He’d gotten word just before they’d submerged that Russian and Chinese forces had been spotted on the Antarctic coast, and inland, just tens of miles from the base. Such maneuvers were both costly and dangerous in such horrible conditions, which implied they knew something. It also meant the
North Dakota
, and its contingent of civilians, might have less time to accomplish its mission.

American subs and destroyers were guarding the mouth of the tunnel. A sonar detection vessel was also there, lighting the place up like the sun. No one else could get into the tunnel. He also assumed that there was no way that the Russians or Chinese could know the exact location of the base; it was the right call not to radio from the lake when they were there the first time. Now they’d have to keep radio silence until they solved the mystery.

There seemed to be a lot at stake, he just didn’t know what exactly – and neither, it seemed, did anyone else.