‘Mr Walker, I presume,’ said Meister as he reached their table. ‘And of course the delightful Miss Summers. How very nice to meet you at last. May I join you?’
Brandon was confused. He was supposed to be undercover, but something had obviously gone terribly wrong.
‘Don’t look so shocked,’ said Meister, ‘you were pointed out to me as soon as you boarded the ship.’
Another man entered the dining room and Meister put up his hand to attract his attention. The man walked over and smiled coldly at them.
‘Of course, I believe you have already had the pleasure of meeting my colleague,’ said Meister.
‘I have,’ growled Brandon, ‘but it was no pleasure.’
‘Sorry,’ said India, ‘can somebody explain what the hell is going on?’
‘Remember the man who threatened to kill us back in Argentina?’ said Brandon. ‘Well, this is him. Claus Eichman.’
Eichman nodded slightly toward India but did not sit down.
‘Well, this is nice,’ said Meister. ‘Four friends together, all enjoying a nice cruise. Isn’t that pleasant?’
‘What do you want, Meister,’ asked Brandon without taking his eyes off Eichman.
‘Well, it’s quite simple really,’ said Meister. ‘Despite anything you may have heard, I am here on holiday and intend to relax. However, I also understand that you have a job to do, and that is to observe me. Now this ship is quite small, so it’s not as if I can disappear for any length of time, so what I suggest is this. You observe as much as you want, Mr Walker but if you get in my way, Mr Eichman here will get very, very cross, and you wouldn’t want that. So, that said, I will leave you to your afternoon tea. No doubt I shall see you both at dinner.’ He stood up and raised his panama hat. ‘Good day, Miss Summers.’
Brandon didn’t answer but inwardly seethed that his cover had been blown. There was no way of getting anyone else on board without it being obvious, so the mission was compromised.
‘Well that puts the cat amongst the pigeons,’ said India.
‘It does,’ said Brandon, ‘but not just because Meister knows we are on to him. We’ll have to watch that Eichman as well. The man is a killer.’
‘We’ll just have to go with the flow,’ said India, ‘and watch each other’s backs.’
The next few days were uneventful, and though their paths crossed occasionally, on the whole they hardly saw the Germans except at dinner. They were sat relatively close and were often the subject of some sarcastic remark that made the Germans laugh out loud.
Finally on the fourth night, Meister and Eichman were conspicuous by their absence and the dining room was relatively quiet.
‘Where do you think they are?’ asked India.
‘I don’t know,’ said Brandon, wiping his mouth with the napkin, ‘but I’m going to find out.’ He called over the waiter.
‘William,’ he said, ‘I see our German friends aren’t dining tonight. Have they been taken poorly?’
‘Oh no, sir,’ said the waiter, ‘I believe they are dining with the captain this evening.’
‘Ah, I see,’ said Brandon. ‘That sounds quite grand. I guess they must be celebrities of some sort.’
‘I don’t think so, I believe the captain and Mr Meister are old friends.’
‘That explains it then,’ said Brandon. ‘Out of curiosity, where does the captain dine?’
‘If it is a formal engagement, we set up a captain’s table here in the dining room, but tonight the galley has been informed to deliver his meal to his cabin.’
‘I see,’ said Brandon. ‘How the other half live eh?’
‘Indeed,’ said the waiter, and turned to face India. ‘Is your meal satisfactory this evening, madame?’
‘Wonderful,’ said India.
‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’
‘No, that’s fine,’ said Brandon, ‘thank you.’ The waiter left and Brandon leaned over toward India.
‘Finish your coffee,’ he said, ‘we’ve got work to do.’
India followed him out of the dining room and toward the rear of the ship.
‘Where are we going?’ asked India.
‘To have a look in their room.’
‘But that’s stupid,’ said India. ‘They could come back at any time.’
‘I only need a few minutes and anyway, they are being wined and dined by the captain. I doubt very much they will be back any time soon.’
‘How do you know which cabin is Meister’s?’
‘Simple,’ said Brandon, ‘I asked William yesterday. It’s just up here.’
They stopped outside the cabin and Brandon took a breath before knocking on the door.
‘What if he’s there?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Brandon, ‘I’m making this up as we go along. I guess I’ll invite him to join us for a drink or something.’
‘That’ll be weird,’ said India under her breath, but she needn’t have worried, the knock went unanswered.
Brandon retrieved a multi tool from his pocket.
‘Let me know if anyone comes,’ he said, and slid a flat blade between the door edge and the frame. A few seconds later they heard a satisfying click and the door swung inward.
‘Come on,’ said Brandon, ‘have a look around see if you can find anything.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know, anything that may shine a light as to what they are up to.’
Brandon started to open cupboards while India pulled the empty suitcases from beneath the twin beds. For over two minutes they searched before India found something.
‘Brandon,’ she said, ‘you are not going to believe this.’
‘What is it?’ asked Brandon, and crossed the room to join her.
‘The log from the submarine,’ she said, and held up the leather book they had taken from U-235.
‘How have they got this?’ asked Brandon. ‘It makes no sense.’
‘It makes every sense,’ said India. ‘That lowlife who stole it from us obviously sold it on to Meister.’
‘But why?’ asked Brandon. ‘What does this logbook have to do with a potential terrorist attack?’
‘I don’t think they are terrorists,’ said India. ‘I think they are after something else.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know, but I suppose he could be trying to get his hands on any of the money or artworks that may have been left in that German base Bert told us about.’
‘Possible,’ said Brandon, ‘but how do they intend getting there?’
‘Who knows?’ said India. ‘But this whole situation seems to revolve around this log. What if there’s something in here that relates to where the Germans left those artefacts?’
‘I think you could be right,’ said Brandon, ‘but you’ve already read the log. Did you see anything that may be a set of directions?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said India. ‘There was one page with a list of numbers, but I thought it was just a set of coordinates where the U-boat had been.’
‘What did the numbers look like?’
‘Just random numbers and times,’ said India. ‘I didn’t take much notice to be honest, but it doesn’t matter, we’ve got the log. Let’s just take a look.’
‘Not here,’ said Brandon. ‘We’ll take it back to the cabin and copy them down. We can return it before they get back.’
Two minutes later they were back in their own cabin. Brandon searched through a drawer for a pen while India flicked through the log.
‘Here they are,’ she said, and read out the list of numbers. ‘What do you think they are?’
‘I think the first one is a simple map reference,’ said Brandon, ‘but the others seem to be bearings, distances and times.’
‘All gobbledegook to me,’ said India.
‘If I’m right,’ said Brandon, staring at the list, ‘the first number is a straightforward grid reference, a location for someone to start at. After that, the rest tell you where to go. For example, it would say, start at point “A” and then walk on a magnetic bearing of one hundred and sixty-eight degrees for, say, seven minutes before changing direction. Whatever these directions are, I think you were right, somebody has gone to a lot of trouble to obtain them, and they could lead to something special. Now, where did I put that pen?’ As he looked up, he spotted movement outside the cabin windows overlooking the sea.
‘What’s that?’ he asked, and opened the sliding door to the balcony. India followed him out. The night was cold and high above the stars shone like countless mini furnaces, but it was what lay a few hundred yards away that caught their attention.
‘It’s a ship,’ said India.
‘And bloody close,’ said Brandon. ‘Why would there be another ship so close at this time of night in the middle of the Antarctic Ocean?’
A noise from behind them made them spin around. Eichman stood a few feet away in the middle of the room aiming a gun at Brandon’s head. Beyond Eichman, Brandon could see Meister was talking to William. Money changed hands and the waiter left, closing the door behind him.
‘It looks like William grassed us up,’ said Brandon.
‘I think you will find his name is Wilhelm,’ said Meister as he walked across the room, ‘and he is a very loyal employee of the captain. But that is irrelevant now, what is important is you return my property immediately. Please step back inside the cabin.’
They both stepped into the room though left the door open behind them.
‘I tried to be nice, Mr Walker,’ said Meister, ‘I really did. You had every opportunity to make this trip as pleasant as possible, now you have spoiled it. You should have taken my advice the moment your mission was compromised.’
‘And what exactly is my mission?’ asked Brandon.
‘A futile attempt to stop me retrieving what is rightfully ours,’ said Meister. ‘My intention was to slip away and leave you to jump to your conclusions in peace but alas, that option is no longer available to me.’
‘Slip away where?’ asked India. ‘We are in the middle of nowhere.’
‘Within the hour I will be on the ship you were staring at a few moments ago. Two days from now, I will be on Antarctica retrieving one of the most important artefacts the world has ever known.’
‘What artefact?’ asked India. ‘I thought you were after the missing German artwork from the Second World War?’
‘And that just goes to show how woefully inadequate British intelligence is,’ said Meister. ‘No, I am not after some pile of dirty paintings or golden goblets, Miss Summers, I am seeking only one item. Something we refer to as the Icon.’
‘I’ve never heard of it,’ said India.
‘That does not surprise me,’ said Meister, ‘as it is of particular interest to me and others like me.’
‘You are willing to kill for something as trivial as that?’ asked India.
‘Oh, it is not trivial, Miss Summers, it is extraordinary. But enough talking, you have something that belongs to me. Please hand over the logbook.’
Brandon judged the distance between him and Eichman but realised he would be dead before he got halfway. India looked down at the book in her hand, her mind racing furiously.
‘If we give you the book, will you let us go?’ asked Brandon.
‘Of course,’ said Meister with a sickly smile.
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Brandon. ‘What’s to stop the Incredible Hulk here pulling that trigger as soon as we hand it over?’
‘You have my word,’ said Meister.
Brandon paused, considering the options, rapidly coming to the conclusion that there were none. They had no choice.
‘Give him the book, India,’ he said.
‘Wait,’ said India. ‘Why would a man go to all the trouble of fitting a silencer to a pistol if he had no intention of using it?’
‘Stop wasting time and hand over the book,’ snapped Meister. ‘My patience is wearing thin.’
‘No,’ said India. ‘Not unless you take us with you.’
‘Take you with us?’ asked Meister with a condescending look on his face. ‘And why would I do that?’
‘Because you need us to find whatever it is you are searching for,’ said India.
‘I have all the information I need in the book,’ said Meister. ‘Now for the last time, please hand it over.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said India, ‘I can’t do that,’ and without warning, she threw the logbook out of the door and into the sea beyond.
‘India,’ shouted Brandon, ‘what are you doing?’
‘Shut up,’ hissed India.
‘You stupid woman,’ shouted Meister, running out on to the balcony and leaning over to stare pointlessly at the water below, ‘do you know what you have just done?’
‘I do,’ said India, ‘and if I have judged correctly, Mr Meister, that book was the only copy you had of the location. That really was a schoolboy error.’
‘It was,’ snarled Meister, ‘but not as big as the one you just made. I am not a violent man, Miss Summers, but give me one good reason why I should not execute you right now.’
‘I’ll give you three,’ said India. ‘One, I don’t believe you are a killer. Two, the British authorities know exactly where we are and we report in every night. If we don’t call, there will be a destroyer alongside this or any other ship within twenty-four hours, and the third reason, and my personal favourite, is this: there is a second list of all the coordinates you need.’
‘Where?’ snapped Meister. ‘Give it to me.’
‘I can’t,’ said India, ‘it’s up here,’ and tapped her finger on the side of her head.
Meister paused and glanced at Brandon.
‘Is this true?’ he asked.
Brandon shrugged his shoulders.
‘I assume so,’ he said. ‘She has just read the coordinates and has an extraordinary memory.’
‘Of course it’s true,’ snapped India. ‘Do you think I would have thrown the book overboard if it wasn’t? The thing is Mr Meister, I am now the only person with the coordinates, so you have to take us with you.’
‘Very clever, Miss Summers,’ said Meister, ‘and it would seem you are right. I have no choice. But why should we take him?’ He pointed at Brandon.
‘Because he is the only one who knows the correct passwords to use when we report in each night,’ said India. ‘It changes daily and I have no idea what they are. As long as that signal is sent, the support stays away, but if we miss just one, the cavalry comes running with all guns blazing.’
‘And what is to stop us killing you once this is over?’
‘Nothing, I suppose,’ said India, ‘but I don’t see why you would want to. Nobody has committed any crime here. If I understand this situation correctly, we are both after different things. You want this Icon, whatever that may be, and we are looking for the missing treasures. Why can’t we share resources until we get wherever it is you are going. You can pick up the Icon and disappear back to wherever it is you came from and we can report the rest of the find to the authorities. That way, everyone will be happy and nobody needs to die.’
Meister considered India’s words for a few moments before turning to Brandon.
‘And you?’ he asked. ‘Are you happy to go along with this arrangement?’
‘I see no reason not to,’ said Brandon. ‘The UK government were more worried that you were about to launch some sort of terrorist attack on one of our ships. As long as I can report that is not the case, I don’t think they will interfere.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because Queen Maud Land is not British territory,’ said Brandon, ‘and we have enough bad feeling down this neck of the woods as it is. The last thing we need right now is some diplomatic incident over some artwork from World War Two.’
‘Queen Maud Land?’ asked Meister.
‘Isn’t that where you are heading,’ asked India, ‘to Station 211?’
‘You know about that?’ said Meister. ‘I am impressed. Indeed, you are correct, though we know it as Neuschwabenland after the ship that legitimately claimed that part of Antarctica for Germany in 1938.
‘OK,’ he continued, ‘though it is not ideal, I agree it’s in everyone’s interests to work together on this. You will lead us to our destination and in return, I will let you live. Once there, I will take the artefact that I seek, and you will give me twenty-four hours’ leeway before you call your people to extract you. Do we have a deal?’
Brandon glanced at India before nodding.
‘We do,’ he said.
‘One more thing,’ said Meister. ‘I will need your gun and the radios, where are they?’
‘Under the bed,’ said Brandon.
Eichman lowered the gun and retrieved the briefcase.
‘So, Mr Walker,’ said Meister, ‘if we are to be partners, I suggest you spend the next hour or so getting ready. Oh, and India, wrap up warm, where we are going there is likely to be very little opportunity to be warm for quite a while.’ He turned back to Brandon. ‘I will collect you when it is time. Until then, we will keep your guns and radios for safekeeping. After all, such things should not be needed between friends, don’t you agree?’
‘Forget the sarcasm, Meister,’ said Brandon, ‘we both know this is a marriage of necessity, not of choice.’
‘As you wish,’ said Meister. ‘Be ready in one hour.’ With that he turned and marched out of the room, slamming the cabin door behind him.
As soon as he went, India slid the balcony door closed, locking out the biting wind of the Antarctic sea. Brandon reached into his pocket and retrieved his mobile phone.
‘Damn,’ he said. ‘No signal, try yours.’
‘What for?’ asked India.
‘Are you kidding me?’ he said. ‘They just took our radios. We need to try and contact someone and get help.’
‘Why?’ asked India. ‘I thought you were up for this.’
‘What, going on some expedition with a Nazi sympathiser to mainland Antarctica? I think not, India. If we can get a signal, I’ll contact Mike back in the UK. He’ll get in touch with the right people and we’ll have backup within hours.’
India looked at her phone. Surprisingly enough, she had two full bars of a signal.
‘Well?’ asked Brandon.
‘Nothing,’ India lied. ‘It’s flatlined.’
‘Shit,’ said Brandon. ‘OK, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll get ready, but keep trying for a signal. If we can’t get one, we’ll play along with him until I can get my hands on the radios. When I report in, I’ll try and send a mayday message. Hopefully, someone will pick it up.’
An hour later, Eichman banged on the door and they were given two fabric holdalls for their spare clothes. When they had transferred their belongings, they were led down through the decks to the crew levels where they were helped into two orange survival suits complete with life jackets. They watched as one of the crew threw a lever and two hydraulic rams pulled a door in the ship’s hull inward. Outside they could see a small motorboat bobbing gently in the Antarctic swell.
‘Our transport awaits,’ said Meister, and held out his hand. ‘Ladies first,’ he said, ‘but try not to fall in, even in these suits survival time in these waters is less than an hour.’
India walked to the door threshold and waited as the crew pulled on the lines to draw the smaller boat closer.
‘As soon as it bumps the hull,’ said one of the crew, ‘jump toward the door. Don’t worry, they will catch you.’
India nodded, and as the boat approached, she steeled herself for the leap of faith. She looked down at the black waters a metre or so below, and though it was calm, she knew it bordered on being freezing.
‘Here goes,’ she shouted, and jumped out across the gap. The sailors on the other boat caught her arm and dragged her on board. One at a time they repeated the task until all four passengers had made the leap safely. They were ushered below deck and without a minute’s pause, the door in the huge liner closed and the small boat revved its engines before swinging away into the darkness.
Ten minutes later they were alongside the other ship, though this time they had to climb up a cargo net to get to the open deck. Finally they were shown through a rusty door and down some dimly lit passages into the bowels of the ship.
‘It stinks,’ said India to nobody in particular.
‘It’s certainly no cruise ship,’ agreed Brandon.
They were shown into a grimy cabin that had two single beds and a metal sink in one corner.
‘Where’s the toilet?’ asked India.
‘There’s a shared bathroom at the end of the corridor,’ said the man who had accompanied them through the ship. ‘If you want to use it, I suggest you do so now, as you may not have another chance for a few hours.’
‘Why not?’ asked Brandon.
‘Because I have to lock you in. Señor Meister’s orders.’
‘I’m OK,’ said India, ‘I’ll wait.’
The door slammed and they heard the key turned in the lock.
‘So, what’s next?’ asked India.
‘I guess we make ourselves comfortable,’ said Brandon, and threw his bag onto one of the stained mattresses. Far below they heard a rumble as the engines kicked in and though they had no window to see out, both knew that the ship was heading south, deeper into the dangerous icy waters of coastal Antarctica.
The next few days passed uneventfully and they were often allowed out of their room to shower, eat and exercise on deck. There was, however, one unpleasant ritual that they had to endure. Each day at midday, Eichman would bring one of the radios and give it to Brandon for him to send the signal that they were OK. During these few minutes, Eichman held his pistol to India’s head to ensure Brandon did not try anything stupid. Though frustrated, Brandon would take no chances with India’s life so duly sent the OK signal each time. The weather got colder and as they steamed south, they began to see ice floes appearing in the water. Finally, on one such morning, as they walked around the deck, India paused and pointed at the horizon.
‘Look,’ she said.
‘What are we looking at?’ said Brandon. ‘I don’t see anything.’
‘In the distance,’ said India, ‘are those mountains?’
Brandon shielded his eyes and stared across the ocean.
‘Possibly,’ said Brandon, ‘or they could be clouds. It’s hard to tell.’
‘You have excellent vision, Miss Summers,’ said a voice, and they both spun around to see Meister standing behind them. ‘They are called the Muhlig-Hofmann Mountains and we believe our destination lies somewhere in that range.’
‘In the mountains?’ said India. ‘But I thought we were heading for some sort of U-boat base.’
‘We are,’ said Meister, ‘but that is only the gateway. From there we will be heading deep into the mountains.’
‘But that’s impossible,’ said Brandon. ‘We aren’t equipped for serious ice travel. We would be dead within days.’
‘Who said anything about walking?’
‘I suppose you have ice vehicles on board,’ said Brandon.
‘Not exactly,’ said Meister, ‘but let me put you out of your misery. The mode of transport we will be using is submarine.’
‘Submarine?’ asked Brandon. ‘How can we do that? I know submarines can travel under ice floes, but that is the mainland. Underneath that ice it will be solid rock.’
‘It is,’ said Meister, ‘except for one very special geological anomaly.’
‘And what is that?’
‘We are currently sailing across a bay almost five hundred miles across,’ said Meister. ‘Each year it freezes solid, but for a few weeks, it remains liquid. For these few weeks a river flows from beneath the ice pack and into the bay. Not only that, but it is fed from an enormous cavern deep within those mountains.’
‘That’s preposterous,’ said Brandon.
‘I agree it is unlikely,’ said Meister, ‘but our records tell us differently. The exact location of the river entrance has been lost over the years, but when you finally found that logbook, we had the information we thought had been lost forever.’
‘So why is this cave important?’ asked Brandon.
‘You already know the answer to that,’ said Meister. ‘That is the location of Station 211. Our destination.’
‘Wait a second,’ said Brandon, ‘if I’ve got this right, you are suggesting that we all get into a submarine and sail up some temporary river beneath the ice in the hope of finding a cave that may not be there.’
‘It is there,’ said Meister. ‘I am almost one hundred per cent sure.’
‘Almost?’
‘Nothing in life is certain,’ said Meister. ‘So, what we need from you, Miss Summers, are the starting coordinates to find the location of the river.’
India glanced toward Brandon, who nodded silently.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘The first numbers are minus 71.9673 and 71.7298. Does that mean anything to you?’
‘They are coordinates of latitude and longitude,’ said Meister. ‘In fact, we are not far from those very coordinates as we speak, so yes, they do mean something to me. Get some rest and something to eat. We will be leaving this ship in a few hours.’