Burning Angels

41

Jaeger gestured at the seaplane. ‘There’s nothing for it. We’re going to have to swim.’

Narov nodded her silent assent. They began to strip down to the bare minimum. It was a one-hundred-and-fifty yard dash, and the last thing they needed in the cold water was to be weighed down by rucksacks, pouches and ammo. They’d leave everything but the essentials – the clothes they stood up in, plus footwear – by the lakeside.

Jaeger hesitated only when it came to discarding his pistol. He hated the thought of proceeding unarmed. Most modern weaponry worked just fine after a good dousing in water, but the key now was to move fast on the long, freezing swim that lay ahead.

He laid his P228 next to Narov’s under a small rock, beside their pile of gear.

Jaeger wasn’t surprised to see that Narov had kept one weapon on her person, though. He’d learned in the Amazon that she was never to be parted from her Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife. It had a talismanic significance for her, supposedly being a gift from Jaeger’s grandfather.

He glanced at her. ‘You ready?’

Her eyes glittered. ‘Race you.’

Jaeger made a mental note of the warplane’s location, fixing it in his mind, before extinguishing his head torch. Narov did likewise. By feel alone they stuffed the Petzls into waterproof Ziploc pouches. All was total darkness now; utter, unrelenting black.

Jaeger brought his hand in front of his face. He couldn’t see anything. He moved it closer, until his palm touched his nose, yet still he’d not discerned the slightest thing. Not the faintest glimmer of light made it in here, this far underground.

‘Stick close,’ he hissed. ‘Oh, and one more thing…’

He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he plunged into the icy lake, hoping to have thrown Narov and gained himself a head start. He sensed her hit the water just yards behind him, thrashing madly to catch up.

Using long, powerful strokes to surge ahead, Jaeger’s head only left the water to grab quick gasps of air. A former Royal Marine, he felt very much at home in or on the water. The draw of that aircraft was irresistible, yet still the utter darkness was horribly disorientating.

He’d almost given up hope of having navigated true when his hand made contact with something hard. It felt like cold, unyielding steel. He figured it had to be one of the warplane’s floats. He dragged himself out of the water, and sure enough was able to haul himself on to a flat surface.

He reached for his head torch, pulled it out and flicked it on, flashing it over the surface of the lake. Narov was bare seconds behind him, and he used the light to guide her in.

‘Loser,’ he whispered as he pulled her out, needling her gently.

She scowled. ‘You cheated.’

He shrugged. ‘All’s fair in love and war.’

They crouched, taking a few seconds to catch their breath. Jaeger shone his torch around, the light gleaming off the massive sweep of the wing that stretched above them. He remembered from the Falkenhagen briefing that the BV222 actually had two decks – the upper one for passengers and cargo, the lower harbouring ranks of machine-gun positions, from which the warplane could be defended.

This close to the fuselage, he could well believe it. Here, he could finally appreciate the sheer size of the thing, coupled with her compelling grace and her incredible presence. He needed to get inside.

He stood, helping Narov to her feet. He took a step or two ahead, but no sooner had he done so than a scream rent the silence. A rhythmic, blaring wail blasted out across the lake, echoing deafeningly off the unyielding rock walls.

Jaeger froze. He knew instantly what had happened. The BV222 had to be fitted with infrared sensors. As soon as they’d started moving, they’d exposed themselves to the sensor’s invisible beams, so triggering the alarm.

‘Kill your light,’ he hissed.

Moments later, they were plunged back into deep blackness, but it didn’t last long.

A powerful beam of illumination stabbed outwards from the southern shore of the lake, chasing away the deepest shadows. It swept across the water, coming to rest upon the warplane, half blinding Jaeger and Narov.

Fighting the urge to take cover and prepare for battle, Jaeger shaded his eyes from the glare.

‘Remember,’ he hissed, ‘we’re a married bloody couple. Tourists. Whoever it is, we’re not here to fight.’

Narov didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the apparition all around them, as if she were hypnotised. The powerful searchlight had illuminated much of the cavern, showing off the glittering form of the BV222 in all her mind-bending glory.

It was almost as if she were a prize exhibit in a museum.

Incredibly, she looked good enough to fly.