Brandon and India stood once more on the open deck of the whaler. As instructed they had dressed warmly and waited for Meister to arrive. The ship was now at anchor about a kilometre from the coastline but despite the distance, the huge sea cliffs still rose menacingly above them. India had given Meister the second set of numbers and after the ship had come to a halt, he had spent a long time with the captain before summoning them to get ready.
Finally he appeared from the bowels of the ship along with Eichman, who threw two large rucksacks at their feet.
‘Rations and water,’ explained Meister, ‘as well as a sleeping bag and some basic survival equipment. I suggest you bring one change of clothes and make sure you have good footwear. There may be some walking involved.’
Brandon looked across the becalmed bay.
‘So where’s this submarine you are expecting?’ asked Brandon.
Meister smiled before answering.
‘It’s about time I let you in on our little secret,’ he said. ‘Come with me.’
He led the way through a door and down into the belly of the ship. Within a few minutes he ducked through another door and onto a walkway surrounding a hold that for years had carried the corpses of the dead behemoths that had earned the ship her living. But there were no whales in the hold now, though what met their gaze was no less astonishing.
‘I don’t believe it,’ said India, stopping in her tracks.
‘It is quite impressive, isn’t it?’ said Meister. ‘It carries six passengers and has state-of-the-art technology.’
Brandon also stared in amazement. Below them, supported on a timber cradle, was a miniature submarine, at least twenty metres long. Along each side was a row of thick Plexiglas portholes and on the top, a small conning tower swept slightly backward with two vanes sticking out of the sides like the tailplane of an aircraft.
‘We’re going in that?’ asked Brandon.
‘We are,’ said Meister. ‘Does that worry you?’
‘Yes, it worries me,’ said Brandon. ‘That thing looks like it has come straight from some Orlando theme park, and you expect us to sail under the Antarctic ice pack in it. Why wouldn’t I be worried?’
‘On the contrary,’ said Meister, ‘this submersible was designed for deep water exploration for a well-known oil production company, but when they lost the rights to extract the oil, it came on the market. A snip for twenty million dollars, don’t you think?’
‘Twenty million dollars,’ gasped India. ‘Why would you spend that sort of money on a submarine?’
‘The money is not important,’ said Meister. ‘My partners and I have eyes on the greater prize.’
‘The Icon,’ suggested Brandon.
‘The Icon,’ confirmed Meister.
‘All I can say is that whatever this Icon is, it must be worth a hell of a lot.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Meister, ‘the actual value is relatively small. The symbolism, however, is priceless. Now if you don’t mind, I think you should finish packing your equipment. We will be boarding as soon as the Hansel is ready.’
‘The Hansel?’ asked India.
‘Yes,’ said, Meister, ‘as in Hansel and Gretel. Didn’t I say? We have an identical submarine back in Colombia. That’s how I know this boat is so reliable. Gretel is in constant use running between Colombia and America ferrying its precious cargo to those who need it.’
‘And what cargo would that be?’ asked India.
‘Drugs,’ said Brandon before Meister had chance to answer.
‘Supply and demand,’ said Meister, before turning his attention back to the deck below. ‘Ah, good, it looks like we will be leaving sooner than I expected.’
The sound of electric motors drew their attention and they watched as two huge doors at the rear of the ship slowly swung open to reveal the icy sea beyond. One of the crew hit a switch and the Hansel started moving toward the opening on a set of rollers designed to pull dead whales in the opposite direction.
‘If you would like to grab your rucksacks,’ said Meister, ‘I will meet you back down here in ten minutes.’ He left the hold and headed back upstairs.
‘What do you think?’ asked India.
‘I don’t see that we have any choice,’ said Brandon.
‘Right,’ said India, ‘I guess we had better grab our equipment.’
When they returned ten minutes later, the Hansel was floating serenely in the calm water just outside the bow doors. A plank bridged the gap between the hold and the body of the submarine and they could see Meister standing alongside the open hatch on the deck.
‘Miss Summers,’ he said, ‘welcome aboard. It is not the most comfortable of craft but hopefully we will not be in it for any unreasonable length of time. However, first of all I need the next set of numbers from you. Please make sure they are accurate, as our lives may depend on them.’
‘Why?’ asked India.
‘Because the next numbers will be the bearing on which we must sail to access the subterranean river and the speed we must travel before attempting to surface. It is essential this information is accurate or we may get stuck under the ice.’
‘Right,’ said India, ‘the next numbers are as follows, depth seventy-five metres, bearing eighty-seven degrees, speed five knots, duration a hundred and eighty-three minutes.’
Meister wrote down the information.
‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked.
‘I’d bet my life on it,’ said India, with a sarcastic smile.
‘That still doesn’t mean they are correct though,’ said Brandon.
‘Why not?’ asked Meister.
‘Because they are just a list of numbers from somebody who lived over seventy years ago. What if they were wrong?’
‘They won’t be wrong.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because,’ said Meister, ‘U-235 must have made this same journey at least once, and as you know, subsequently turned up in Ecuador; that says to me that their information is accurate.’
‘OK,’ said Brandon, ‘but what if the circumstances have changed beneath the ice.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Meister.
‘Rivers change course,’ said Brandon, ‘water freezes, even rocks move given enough geological pressure. If anything like that has happened, we could get lost down there very quickly.’
Meister paused before answering.
‘You are right,’ he said, ‘all of that may have happened, but it is a risk I am willing to take. Now please get on board.’
India and Brandon passed up their rucksacks before crossing the plank and climbing down through the hatch into the body of the submarine. Inside, Eichman pointed toward the rear and they had to crouch as they made their way toward the seats situated in the back.
Meister climbed down the ladder and sat alongside the pilot in the front. Up above, the hatch slammed shut and Brandon watched the wheel turn as it was closed from the outside. The pilot went through a list of checks and as soon as the go-ahead was given over the radio, eased the submarine away from the whaler and toward the nearby ice cliffs.
India peered out of the porthole alongside her. It was just above the waterline and she shivered at the proximity of the icy water. Up front she could hear Meister reading out the coordinates to the pilot and within minutes, he turned to face the rest of them.
‘OK,’ he said, ‘we are now in position. In a few moments we will be diving beneath the Antarctic ice. If the coordinates from our lady friend are accurate, we should be submerged for a little over three hours. Obviously the space is limited so we can’t move around, but please make yourselves as comfortable as possible. If everything goes to plan, within twenty-four hours we will witness the most astonishing artefact the world has ever seen.’
As he spoke, the whine of the batteries increased and the submarine eased forward. Outside the porthole the water level rose and bubbled up over the Plexiglas. India subconsciously held her breath but eased it out as they descended through the icy water.
The pilot flicked a switch and external lamps along either side of the submarine sprang into life, illuminating the water all around them. Everyone peered out in fascination, hoping to see some sort of wildlife, but the vast space around them seemed lifeless.
The craft continued to sweep downward as it headed toward the mainland until unexpectedly the smooth descent was interrupted by a sudden buffeting and the boat shuddered as if being shaken by a giant hand.
‘What’s that?’ asked India.
‘Do not worry,’ said Meister over his shoulder, ‘it is a good thing. We have sailed into the flow of the subterranean river. So far, your information is correct, Miss Summers, all we need to do now is sail upstream. Destiny awaits.’
The whine of the engines increased and the submarine lurched forward against the gentle current of the river.
‘Nothing we can do now except wait,’ said Brandon, and settled back with his eyes closed.
‘You are unbelievable,’ said India, and turned to stare out of the porthole once again. It might not have been her first choice to be here but now that she was, she didn’t want to miss one single second of it.
‘Brandon, wake up,’ said India a few hours later.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, sitting up immediately.
‘I’m not sure,’ said India, ‘I think something’s wrong.’
‘How long have I been sleeping?’
‘About two hours,’ said India. ‘For the last forty-five minutes we have been in this tunnel.’
She pointed out of the side portal. About ten metres away Brandon could see the glass-smooth wall of blue-tinged ice passing behind them as they sailed upstream.
‘It’s the same all around,’ said India, pointing across the submarine to the opposite portal.
‘So what seems to be the problem?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said India, ‘but there was a strange sound a few minutes ago, and can you smell something strange?’
‘I can,’ said Brandon, ‘it smells like burning.’
‘And look at Meister,’ said India, ‘he’s obviously concerned about something.’
Sure enough, Meister was talking to the pilot in hushed tones.
‘I’ll find out what’s going on,’ said Brandon, and stood up to walk forward, but before he had gone a few steps, Eichman stood up to block his way.
‘Sit down,’ he said.
‘Something is wrong,’ said Brandon. ‘I just want to see what’s going.’
‘Sit,’ repeated Eichman and, placing the flat of his giant hand on Brandon’s chest, pushed him backward up the aisle.
‘Keep your hands off me, Eichman,’ said Brandon, and took a step toward him.
‘Brandon,’ said India, standing up to grab his arm, ‘stop it. This is not the time or the place.’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Meister from the front.
‘Your pet gorilla here fancies a mouth full of broken teeth,’ said Brandon. ‘Call him off, Meister.’
‘Sit down, all of you,’ barked Meister. ‘If you haven’t already guessed, we have a problem here, and the last thing we need is schoolboy fight.’
All three sat down, though both men continued their staring contest. ‘So what’s the problem?’ asked India.
‘We are not sure,’ said Meister, ‘but it seems we have lost power in one bank of batteries.’
‘Can it be fixed?’
‘Possibly, but we would need to surface to access the battery compartments on the outside of the hull.’
‘So why can’t we do that?’
‘In case you haven’t noticed,’ said Meister, ‘we are in an ice-lined lava tube hundreds of feet below the surface. There is no air for at least another couple of miles.’
‘So what are the implications?’ asked Brandon.
‘As it stands,’ said Meister, ‘and assuming India’s memory is accurate, we should have enough power to reach the cavern. Once there we can continue our journey on foot while the pilot attempts to repair the batteries for the outward journey.’
‘And if he can’t?’
‘Then we will have to reassess the situation.’
‘Why can’t we just turn around and go back?’ said Brandon. ‘Surely there is enough juice left to get back down the tube, especially with the current behind us.’
‘You are right,’ said Meister, ‘there is enough power to do that, however, the bank of batteries that have failed also powers the second tank of oxygen and the air scrubbers.’
‘What are air scrubbers?’ asked India.
‘The machines that filter the carbon dioxide from the air we breathe out,’ said Meister. ‘The only oxygen we have is what is left in tank one. After that, the only air available is what is around us in this cabin. Even combined, that is probably only enough to get us halfway back down the river. No, the only option is to continue forward at full speed and hope we reach the cavern before we suffocate.’
‘I thought you said this was state of the art,’ said Brandon.
‘It is,’ said Meister, ‘but we think the unforeseen demands on the heating system have burnt out a coil in the battery department.’
‘Unforeseen?’ shouted Brandon, standing up once more. ‘How the fuck were they unforeseen? You always knew you were going to be sailing beneath the ice pack, I guess it was always probable it would be a bit chilly down here.’
‘You need to calm down, Mr Walker,’ said Meister menacingly. ‘If you get excited, you will use up even more air than normal. Now, what I suggest is this. We will increase speed to full power immediately. As long as these batteries hold out, and there is no reason why they won’t, we should be in the cavern within the hour.’
Brandon dropped into his seat again. Meister returned to his position and talked quietly to the pilot. Within seconds they all felt a definite surge in power as the submarine leapt forward. Brandon felt India’s arm slide through his and he looked across. For the first time ever, he could see fear in her face.