CHAPTER 41
Immari Corporate Jet
Somewhere over the Southern Atlantic Ocean
Martin Grey leaned toward the plane window and peered out at the giant iceberg below. The Nazi sub jutted out of a mountain of ice near the center of the floating island, which covered almost 47 square miles — about the size of Disney World. Where the sub met the ice, workers and heavy machinery were hard at work excavating, searching for the sub's entrance. Cutting into the side was a last resort, but it would come to that if they didn't reach the hatch soon.
The wreckage below the sub was even more mysterious — teams were still working on theories. Martin had one of his own, an idea he would take to his grave if necessary.
"When did you find it?" Dorian Sloane's voice startled Martin, and he turned to see the younger man standing over him, gazing out another window of the jet.
Martin opened his mouth to respond, but Sloane interrupted him. "No lies, Martin."
Martin slumped in the chair, and continued squinting out the window. "10 days ago."
"Is it his?"
"The markings are the same. Carbon dating confirms the age."
"I want to go in first."
Martin turned to him. "I wouldn't advise it. The wreckage is likely unstable. There's no way of knowing what's inside. There could be—"
"And you're coming with me."
"Absolutely not."
"Now Martin, where's that intrepid explorer I knew in my youth?"
"This is a job for robots. They can go into places we can't. They can withstand cold, and it will be cold in there, colder than you can imagine. And they're easier to replace."
"Yes, it will be dangerous, even more dangerous, I think, if I go alone, with say, you left outside."
"You assume I'm as morally bankrupt as you are."
"I'm not the one kidnapping kids and keeping secrets." Sloane leaned back in a chair across from Martin, readying for a fight.
A steward entered their compartment and said to Sloane, "Sir, there's a call for you. It's urgent."
Dorian picked up the phone from the wall. "Sloane."
He listened, then looked up at Martin, surprised. "How?" A moment passed. "You can't be serious—" He nodded a few times. “No, look, he had to leave by boat. Search the surrounding islands, they couldn’t have gone far. Deploy everyone, bring in troops from local Immari Security and secured Clocktower cells if you have to.” He listened again. “Fine, whatever, use the media to box them in. Kill him and capture her. Call me back when you have her."
Sloane hung up the phone and scrutinized Martin as he said, "The girl got away. A Clocktower agent helped her."
Martin continued surveying the site below.
Sloane put his elbows on the table and leaned close enough to strike Martin. "50 of my men are dead, and three floors of Immari Jakarta have been blown to pieces, not to mention the wharf. You don't seem surprised, Martin."
"I'm looking at an 80-year-old Nazi Sub and what could be an alien space ship sticking out of an iceberg off the coast of Antarctica. I'm hard to surprise these days, Dorian."
Sloane leaned back. "We both know it's not an alien space ship."
"Do we?"
"We will soon."