Rogue Angel 55: Beneath Still Waters (8 page)

Annja was so stunned by the suggestion that she didn’t know what to say.

Paul did though. “You can’t be serious,” he said crossly. Annja could hear the indignation in his voice. He hadn’t liked the insinuation, not one bit, and it was clear from his tone that he wasn’t going to put up with remarks of that caliber.

Annja didn’t blame him.

Garin ignored him, speaking instead to Annja. “Seems pretty suspicious to me.
He
invited you to Jamaica.
He
booked the hotel.
He
knew what room you were in and even when you were there and when you weren’t. He could easily have dropped off the package at the front desk with no one the wiser.”

“Now wait just a minute—” Paul began, but Annja cut him off.

“Paul was with me the whole time we were in Jamaica. It’s not like he could have flown back to the mainland and kidnapped Doug when I wasn’t looking.”

Garin was staring at Paul with suspicion as he said, “Aren’t you the one who said Doug had been missing for a few days before you spoke to his assistant? For
all you know, he could easily have kidnapped Doug and left him somewhere long before he met you for the flight to the Caribbean.”

The frown that had blossomed on Annja’s face at Garin’s initial suggestion now deepened. “This isn’t funny, Garin.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. Tell me something. Was Paul in the room with you when the kidnapper called?”

“No, I was alone.”

“So how do you know it wasn’t him?”

Annja glared at Garin. “Knock it off. Right now,” she said. “I don’t have time for this kind of joke. Paul isn’t the kidnapper and that’s final. I fully vouch for him.”

Garin sat back with the hint of a smile. “All right, if you say so.”

He turned to Paul. “My apologies,” he said.

It was the smile that did it. Garin had intentionally ruffled Paul’s feathers, no doubt in payback for Paul’s rudeness during the interview when they’d first met.

The guy can sure hold on to a grudge
, she thought.

“So what is it that you want from me?” Garin asked, addressing Annja.

She leaned forward. “I don’t have the resources I need to conduct the search. I was hoping you could supply equipment and manpower.”

Garin nodded a couple of times, as if weighing what she’d said. Finally, he asked, “What’s in it for me?”

Annja had been expecting that question, and there was only one answer that she could give him.

“Nothing except my thanks,” she said.

Garin grunted in what sounded like amusement. His tone was light as he said, “Let me get this straight. You want me to spend millions of dollars to finance a massive search for a plane that’s been missing for seventy years and might not even be in the location we’re searching, never mind my time and attention, for nothing but a word of thanks from you?”

“Garin, look. Doug’s life—”

He cut her off, his tone a bit more brusque than before. “Just answer the question. Yes or no? Is that what you expect?”

Paul bristled and Annja thought he was going to step in, so she glared at him to keep him quiet.

She caught Garin’s gaze and said, “Yes, that’s exactly what I expect.”

She thought he’d argue, or bargain, or at the very least laugh at the idea. As long as she’d known him, Garin had done what was best for Garin. Expecting him to change now would be like asking water not to be wet.

To her surprise, a broad smile crossed Garin’s face at her reply. Sure, I’ll help you. I am at your service in every way.”

Given the fox-in-the-henhouse look on his face, Annja knew she’d said or done something that was going to come back and bite her on the butt at some point, but she’d worry about that later.

They flew from Miami to Munich, Germany, in a little under ten hours. Already exhausted from everything that had gone on so far, Annja spent most of the flight sleeping in her seat. The few times that she opened her eyes or got up to use the restroom, she found Garin on the phone making arrangements for the work ahead. She found it oddly comforting to know that he was on top of things, and she began to think that maybe they could pull this off after all.

Hang on, Doug
, she thought.
We’re coming
.

Thanks to the time difference, it was just after 7:00 a.m. when they landed. An Immigration and Customs official met them on the plane and handled their visas and declarations paperwork, after which they transferred from the jet to another private helicopter. This one was much more utilitarian than the first. Gone were the plush leather seats and the mahogany interior. In their places were benches that could seat at least three people and riveted steel bulkheads. It was a working machine and it showed.

Duffel bags were waiting in the chopper’s open
doorway, their names in black marker on the sides. Opening hers, Annja found cold weather gear and a few sets of clothing, all in the right sizes. The surprise must have shown on her face, for Garin winked at her and said, “You should let me shop for you more often.”

Paul had clothes, as well, though his didn’t fit quite as well as Annja’s. The three of them quickly pulled on the boots, coats and gloves, and climbed aboard. Garin had a brief conversation with the pilot and then they were on their way, heading east toward the Austria border and the Alps.

Annja thought they would fly into Salzburg and then take ground transportation from there, so she was surprised when the pilot delivered them to a mountain camp on the German side of the Alps. Thanks to all of the time that she’d spent staring at the topographical map of the search area, Annja knew they were close to the spot where Captain Mitchell’s plane had crashed. A semipermanent structure, the kind used for expedition work in out-of-the-way places, stood on a plateau at the edge of a valley. Two Sno-Cats were parked in front of it.

“Your people, I hope?” Annja said to Garin.

He nodded. “Yes, including one very special individual. You’re going to like what he has to show you.”

The helicopter set down a few dozen yards from the structure. Annja and her companions disembarked with Garin leading the way through the knee-deep snow and over to the structure.

Inside, they found a high-tech command center,
complete with oversized monitor screens mounted along one wall and three men seated at control stations in front of them. A fourth stood behind them, quietly giving instructions. He turned when he heard them enter and walked over to greet Garin.

“Annja, meet Reinhold Draynor, CEO and founder of GeoDent Industries” Garin said, introducing them.

“Pleased to meet you,” the man said with a smile, as he shook hands with first Annja and then Paul. He was a short, stocky individual with black wire-frame glasses, thinning hair and what Annja would soon discover to be an infectious enthusiasm for his work.

“Good to meet you as well,” she said. “Tell me, what’s GeoDent Industries?”

“The answer to your prayers,” Garin said, as he stepped over to observe the action on the screens.

Reinhold smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I do think we can help. GeoDent, short for Geo Identification, is a geophysical survey company. We use a set of sophisticated and proprietary tools to help find the location of subsurface deposits of various minerals, metals and other natural resources.”

“So you can search for specific types of metals? Even through solid rock?” Annja asked. “How do you manage that?”

Reinhold stepped over to the command console and pointed at the screen mounted above it. The image on the screen was a wash of different colors laid over what seemed to be a topographical map.

“Subsurface deposits generate very distinct fields of electromagnetic radiation. By using drones capable
of recording multispectral imaging and other key variables, we can measure the strength and intensity of those fields up to a depth of 5,000 meters, which in turn helps us identify pockets of everything from oil and natural gas to precious metals.”

Annja felt her excitement growing. “What about nonprecious metals like iron or steel? Can it pick those up, too?”

“Absolutely.”

Annja couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Using this technology would make the search for the aircraft so much easier, provided they could get the drone to operate properly in the high winds of the Alps. She turned to find Garin watching her.

“You are a genius!” she told him. “I could almost kiss you.”

He smiled and opened his arms. “Please do.”

To her great surprise, she was actually tempted. Resisting the impulse, she flashed him a smile. “I said almost.”

Garin waved his hand in a gesture that was meant to take in the whole command center. “When you told me about the project, I immediately thought of Reinhold. His technology is absolutely cutting-edge, so new that we haven’t even announced it publicly yet. I figured this would be an excellent test run for him and his team.”

“And we’re looking forward to the task,” Reinhold said. “I was just going to check on the preparations for the drone’s flight. Care to join me?”

Annja, Paul and Garin followed the German scientist
as he went through the door at the far end of the command room and entered another large room just beyond where another team of men were currently prepping the drone for flight.

The aerial vehicle looked very much like the well-publicized Predator drones used by the US Air Force and the CIA, but was probably a quarter of its size. Looking at it, Annja guessed it was roughly ten feet in length with a wingspan of something in the neighborhood of fifteen feet. It had the same bulbous nose as the Predator; in fact, Annja thought that this one might be even more pronounced. It was still big, but not the monstrosity that were the Predator and its ilk.

One crew member had the nose open and was making adjustments to something—the imaging equipment was Annja’s guess—while a second was fueling the bird from a long hose attached to a tank in the far corner.

Reinhold continued with his explanation. “Once we launch the drone, we’ll direct it to make systematic passes over the target area, mapping it in grid-like fashion similar to how you would handle a dig site, Annja. A few hours after that the computer will be finished crunching the data and will give us a three-dimensional model of the search area complete with its findings.” He grinned. “If the aircraft is there, I’m confident we will find it.”

They returned to the control room, where Reinhold spent some time in conference with Annja, trying to identify the best section of the search area to start with. In the end, they chose an area a few kilometers
wide by ten kilometers long moving southeast in a straight line from their current location. It matched the direction Captain Mitchell had reported last seeing the Junkers traveling, and it abutted a series of peaks that were, in Annja’s view, too high for the damaged aircraft to have navigated over. They also identified two additional portions of the search area to try in case the first search was unsuccessful.

An hour after they had arrived they all stood in the control room watching the monitors. The oddly insectile-looking craft raced down the makeshift runway of hard-packed snow and took off into the cold mountain air with barely a sound. It was a clear day with little wind, for which Annja was deeply thankful. It would make the scanning much easier. Reinhold was quietly issuing commands to his team, and Annja was pleased to see that they worked like a well-oiled unit; these men knew their jobs and would perform to the best of their abilities. They sent the drone to the target altitude and got the search underway.

At that point, there was nothing to do but wait.

* * *

T
HE NEXT SEVERAL
hours were particularly tense. Annja could feel the ticking of the clock, literally measuring the hours left in Doug’s life if they didn’t succeed, and the anxiety that generated had her on edge the whole time. More than once she considered alerting the authorities, but something stopped her. She couldn’t have put her finger on precisely why, but she had the sneaking feeling that the kidnapper
would know as soon as she got law enforcement involved, and she didn’t dare risk Doug’s life.

She passed the time playing cards with Paul in the breakroom, but her mind wasn’t on what she was doing and he repeatedly trounced her. Eventually she gave up her seat to Garin, allowing Paul to have a bit of a challenge, and she sat staring at the wall, wondering if she was doing the right thing. By the time Reinhold stuck his head in the doorway and announced they might have something, she was about ready to crawl out of her skin. She jumped to her feet and followed the German scientist back to the control room, Garin and Paul at her heels.

At a word from Reinhold, the image from the drone’s forward camera that was showing on the central screen was replaced by something much more complex.

Reinhold pointed at it. “What you’re seeing here is a three-dimensional computer model we’ve built with the preliminary data sent back to us by the drone. We’ve isolated the various magnetic fields recorded by the drone’s imaging equipment and assigned each of them a color. We then laid those colors over a topographic model of the rift valley itself.”

The image in front of them was mostly gray, with a few blotches of dark red running throughout.

“The gray color represents the baseline material of the mountains, mostly granite, dolomite and shale,” Reinhold said. He pointed to one of the veins of dark red running through it. “This dark color appears to be veins of hematite crystal, something the region is
particularly known for. So far, nothing is surprising or out of the ordinary.”

He nodded at the technician manning the controls and the imaging began to slip down the screen, revealing more of the valley, just as if the drone were flying over it. Everything looked similar to what they’d already seen, until they reached the far end. At that point, a blotch of blue color appeared.

“Initial measurements tell us that this anomaly is roughly fifty feet long by seventy feet wide and made mostly of a combination of iron, carbon and manganese. In other words, steel.”

Reinhold looked at the trio with an expression of pride. “I would bet my professional reputation that this is your missing aircraft.”