Burning Angels

40

Jaeger groped for the lip of the upper surface. His fingers wriggled their way on to it, and with burning shoulder muscles he hauled his body upwards, using first his stomach and then his knees to worm his way on to the high point.

He lay there for several seconds, his breath coming in sharp, heaving gasps. The wall was broad and flat on top, testament to the massive effort that had gone into its construction. As he had suspected, it hadn’t been placed here to stop humans. There wasn’t so much as a coil of razor wire atop it. No one had been expected to arrive here uninvited and with the intent of scaling it – that much was clear.

Whoever had built this barrier – and Jaeger didn’t doubt any more that Kammler was somehow responsible – they had never imagined that this place would be discovered. They had clearly believed it to be undetectable, and thus secure.

Jaeger risked a peek over the far side. The twin beams of his head torch reflected back at him from a completely still, black, mirror-like surface. There was a second lake concealed behind the wall, one set within a vast circular cave gallery.

The entire space appeared to be utterly deserted, but it wasn’t that which drew a gasp of astonishment from Jaeger.

Set way out in the centre of the water was a simply fantastical sight. Floating on the lake’s mirror surface was an apparition that was shockingly unexpected, yet strangely familiar all at the same time.

Jaeger tried to keep control of his emotions and his excitement; his pulse was off the scale right now.

He unhooked the rope from where it had snagged itself precariously and secured it properly around a small pinnacle, before lowering one end to Narov. She attached the first pack and he hauled it up, repeating the process with the second. Then Narov scaled the barrier, as Jaeger acted as her belay point, his legs straddling the wall.

Once she was up, Jaeger flashed his light across the lake. ‘Take a look,’ he hissed. ‘Feast your eyes upon that.’

Narov stared. Jaeger had rarely seen her lost for words. She was now.

‘At first I thought I had to be dreaming,’ he told her. ‘Tell me I’m not. Tell me it’s for real.’

Narov couldn’t drag her gaze away. ‘I see it. But how in the name of God did they get it in here?’

Jaeger shrugged. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’

They lowered their packs to the far side, before abseiling down to join them on the ground. They squatted in the utter stillness, contemplating the next, seemingly impossible challenge. Short of swimming – and Lord only knew what was in the water – how were they going to make it to the centre of that lake? And having done so, how were they to get aboard what lay tethered there?

Jaeger figured maybe they should have been expecting this. In a sense, they’d been forewarned in the Falkenhagen briefing. But still, to find it here, and so utterly unblemished and intact – it took his very breath away.

In the centre of the lake beneath the mountain was anchored the giant form of a Blohm and Voss BV222 seaplane.

Even from this distance it was simply stupendous – a six-engine behemoth tethered by its cruelly beaked nose to a buoy. The incredible size of the thing was betrayed by the antique-looking motorboat that was lashed to its side, dwarfed by the graceful wing stretching high above it.

But perhaps even more than the warplane’s size and presence, what confounded Jaeger most was how utterly perfect she appeared to be. There was no layer of bat guano coating the BV222’s upper surface, which was painted in what had to be its original camouflage green. Likewise, its blue-white under-surface – contoured like the V-shaped hull of a speedboat – was free of any algae or weed.

From the upper surface of the warplane sprouted a forest of gun turrets: the BV222 was designed to operate without the need for any escort. It was a massive flying gun-platform, which was supposed to be able to shoot down any Allied fighters.

The Perspex of the gun turrets appeared to be almost as clear and clean as the day she had left the factory. Along her side ran a row of portholes, which terminated at the fore end in the iconic insignia of the Luftwaffe – a black cross superimposed over a larger white one.

It looked as if it had been painted only yesterday.

Somehow, this BV222 had lain here for seven decades, being carefully tended to and looked after. But the biggest mystery – one that Jaeger couldn’t for the life of him fathom – was how on earth the aircraft had got in here.

With a 150-foot wingspan, she was too wide to have made it through the cave entrance.

This had to be Kammler’s doing. Somehow, he’d got her in here.

But why had he done so?

For what purpose?

For an instant Jaeger wondered whether Kammler had sited his hidden germ warfare laboratory inside this aircraft secreted deep beneath the mountain. But just as soon as he’d entertained the idea he discounted it. Were it not for their head torches, the BV222 would be lying here enshrouded in utter darkness.

Jaeger didn’t doubt that she was deserted.

As he rested, racking his brains, he became aware of how quiet it was. The massive concrete structure of the wall blocked off nearly all sound from further down the cave system: the gouging of the elephants; the rhythmic crunching of rock fragments; the odd contented stamp or bellow.

Here it was utter stillness. Devoid of all life. Ghostly. Deserted.

Here was a place where all life apparently came to an end.