The Sixth Seal полностью

The three of them tore apart the mercenary command tent but didn’t find anything of use, minus more ammo and gear. Intel was lean here. Then it hit Zahra.

“What about the sub?”

“What about it?” Yana asked back.

A smirk formed on Zahra’s mouth. “They have to surface, right? And it was sticking out of the ice. Not into the ice — it was pointing toward the open sea. That means it was leaving from somewhere further inland.” She dove into her coat pocket and pulled out her paper map. She slapped it on the table and unfolded it. “Where’s the closest body of water south of our U-boat?”

Hammet leaned over the map. “Here.” He tapped an area with his finger. “Lake Untersee. Surrounded by the Gruber Mountains.”

“Untersee?” Yana asked. “Its name is German?”

“Correct,” Hammet replied. “It was first charted by Kriegsmarine captain Alfred Ritscher in the late thirties, as he flew over the Antarctic.”

“Very encyclopedic, Herr Braun,” Yana said.

He rolled his eyes. “The only reason I remember that is because there’s a mountain named after him next to our lake, Ritscher Peak.”

Zahra looked up from the map and stared through Hammet, picturing something. “It can’t be that easy, can it?”

“What can’t?” Yana asked.

“The lake and the mountain,” Zahra replied. “Both were charted by a Nazi naval captain in the 1930s.” She blew out a long breath. “Whattaya bet that’s the entry point to our lost research station?”

Hammet stood tall and rubbed his lower back. “That’s a big leap, Zahra.”

She chuckled. “Everything about this mission is a ‘big leap.’ How far away is the lake?”

“Based on this,” Yana said, tapping the map, “another seventy miles south of our current location.”

Zahra looked at Hammet. “How’s our fuel look?”

The German shrugged. “Should be fine. Either way, I suggest we borrow some from our Russian friends here, just in case.” He eyed the door. “Getting stranded out here does not sound like any picnic I would want to go to.” He grumbled something under his breath.

“Thoughts?” Zahra asked.

“If the Underworld is at Lake Untersee, then why hasn’t it been found by someone else yet? It’s not exactly a hidden place. Quite the opposite, actually. You can even see it clearly on Google Earth.”

Zahra folded up her map. “That’s just one of a hundred other questions that will have to wait. Let’s gather whatever gear we think we’ll need and move out.”

“Yes,” Hammet agreed, “let’s be quick, too.” He took in the bodies around the room. “We still don’t know who did this.”

Yana moved across the tent and knelt. But “I know who didn’t do this.”

“Whatcha got?” Zahra asked.

“This.” Yana stood and held up a brass casing. “This does not belong to the favored caliber of Russia, the 7.62.” She turned and gazed at Zahra and Hammet. “This is a 5.56 NATO round. Best guess is that the people responsible for this were either American or German.”

Zahra quickly agreed. 5.56 was used in weapons like the M4 carbine and the HK416. Both were widely used between the American and German militaries.

Hammet sighed. “It seems that the Sixth Seal has called in everyone.” He looked at Zahra. “This has gone from bad to worse.”

Zahra tried — and failed — to shake off the nerves.

It certainly has.

“We need to try and contact Kyle,” Zahra said. “We need to warn him of another new player.”

“Any luck?” Ethan asked.

Kyle stepped back inside the cargo hold and shook the chill from his body. “Yeah, but barely. Palmer is sending a rescue unit over immediately.”

The other man looked down at his watch. “What do we do until then?”

Kyle looked around Ethan, picturing the wounded team members laid up further into the plane. He also pictured the covered dead.

Footsteps approached from behind. Carlo had taken a round to the shoulder. Luckily, it had only been a flesh wound. His right arm was now in a sling. He had offered to help look over the other injured crewmember. Claire, the climatologist, had been shot multiple times. As of now, she was in stable condition. Everyone on board had received top-notch medical training since arriving in Antarctica, thankfully.

“How is she?” Kyle asked, still looking forward. The sight of the blank, icy canvas calmed him.

“Same,” Carlo replied.

The sole Greek crewman had a thick accent. He was on loan to the Antarctica arm of the National Science Foundation via some organization that Kyle had never heard of. He’d been a part of the climate studies team, not Kyle’s flight crew. Claire was his team leader and someone he thought highly of.

“How is your arm, Captain?”

Kyle waved him off. “It’s fine. A little sore is all. Keep at it, Carlo. All we can do is sit and wait for Palmer.”

Carlo motioned to the open cargo ramp. “Will do, but I would like to get some fresh air first. Hopefully, it will reinvigorate me some.”