Ghost Flight

54

Jaeger glanced at the chief, trouble clouding his eyes. ‘I think we’ll go scatter their ashes among the trees,’ he remarked quietly. He turned to his team. ‘And you know something else – I think I’m better off going on alone, with the chief’s warriors. I can move faster on my own, and I don’t want you guys getting any deeper into this—’

‘Typical,’ a voice cut in. ‘You may have the heart of a lion but you’ve got the brains of a monkey – like the one you just ate.’ It was Irina Narov. ‘You take it upon yourself to be tougher than everyone else. The loner. The lone hero. You’ll do it on your own. Everyone else is a burden. A liability. You cannot see the value in others, and that amounts to a betrayal of all in your team.’

Jaeger felt stung by her words. The loss of his wife and child plus the subsequent years in Bioko had made him distrustful of others – he knew that. But right now, it wasn’t that which was driving him to go it alone: it was the fear of losing more of his team, and being next to powerless to protect them.

‘Two are dead already,’ he countered. ‘It’s gone from being an expedition of discovery to something altogether shittier. It’s not what you – any of you – signed up for when you agreed to do this thing.’

‘Schwachkopf,’ Narov’s voice softened a little. ‘It is as I said after we nearly died in the freefall: you need to learn to trust your team. And you know something: by your example, you have earned the right to lead. You have earned it. Prove that you are worthy of our belief; our trust in you.’

What was it about this woman? Jaeger wondered. How was it that with a few choice sentences she could get so deep beneath his skin? She had a way of speaking that went direct to the heart of the matter, and bugger the social niceties.

He glanced around his team. ‘And the rest of you?’

‘It’s easy.’ James shrugged. ‘Hold a vote. Those who want to go get to go. Those who don’t stay behind.’

‘Yeah,’ Alonzo added. ‘Ask for volunteers. And let’s make it clear: there’s no dishonour – none – on those who opt to stay behind.’

‘Okay,’ Jaeger conceded. ‘And chief – are you good safeguarding those who choose to remain? At least until this thing is done.’

‘They are welcome,’ the chief confirmed. ‘Our home is their home, and for as long as they are in need of it.’

‘Right, I’m asking for volunteers,’ Jaeger announced. ‘And you all know the dangers.’

‘Count me in,’ James declared, almost before Jaeger was done speaking.

‘It’s a shitty kind of a holiday,’ Alonzo growled. ‘But man, I’m in.’

Kamishi raised his gaze to Jaeger. ‘I have already failed you once. I fear I may—’ Jaeger placed a hand on Kamishi’s shoulder to quieten him. Kamishi brightened. ‘If you would accept—’

Alonzo slapped him on the back. ‘What brother Kamishi’s trying to say is – he’s in!’

Dale glanced at the village chief, then at Jaeger. ‘If I’m in, am I allowed to film? Or will they stick me full of spears as soon as I pull out my camera?’

Jaeger eyed Puruwehua. ‘I am sure we can broker some kind of deal with the chief and his warriors.’

Puruwehua nodded. ‘The elders – they believe your camera hurts their soul. With the younger men – the warriors – I’m sure I can persuade them otherwise.’

Dale hesitated for an instant, clearly torn between his desire to go and his fear of what lay ahead. He shrugged. ‘Then I guess it’ll be the film to die for.’

Jaeger turned to Santos. ‘Leticia?’

Santos gave a faint shrug. ‘I would like to very much. To come. But my conscience tells me I am better here, staying with my Indians. What do you think? No?’

‘If you think you should stay, you should stay.’ Jaeger pulled out her silk scarf. ‘And here’s your scarf – like you, a survivor.’

An emotional Santos took the length of material. ‘But you must wear it, no? It is… good luck for the coming journey.’

She reached up and proceeded to knot it around Jaeger’s neck, kissing him on the cheek once she’d done so.

Jaeger fancied he could see Narov burning with that same jealousy that he’d detected before. It made him all the more determined to wear the scarf through all that was coming. Anything to rattle Narov; to try and find a way to get to the hidden person that lay within.

‘Four are in; one’s staying,’ Jaeger summed up. ‘And the rest?’

‘I’ve got three kids at home,’ a voice volunteered. It was Stefan Kral. ‘In London. Correction. Not London any more. We’ve just moved out to lovely Luton.’ He threw a resentful look at Dale. ‘Can’t afford London, not on an assistant producer’s wage. I’m staying alive and I’m getting home in one piece.’ He glanced at Jaeger. ‘I won’t be coming.’

‘Understood,’ Jaeger told him. ‘Get home safely, and be the father your kids need you to be. That matters more than any air wreck lying lost in the jungle.’

As he said those words, Jaeger felt a spit of bile rise from his stomach. He forced it back down. He’d spent a year searching for his own family after they disappeared. He’d travelled every highway; turned over every stone. He’d chased down every clue and pursued every lead, until all had turned cold. But had he really done everything he could to find them?

Had he given up on his family and given up on life – running to Bioko – just when he should have kept going? Jaeger kicked the thought away.

He glanced at Narov. ‘You?’

She met his gaze. ‘Do you need to ask?’

He shook his head. ‘I guess not. Irina Narov’s in.’

The Amahuaca chief glanced at the sky. ‘And so, you have your team. You leave at sun-up, maybe three hours away. I will order my warriors to make ready.’

‘One thing,’ a voice cut in. It was Narov’s, and she was directing her words at the chief. ‘Have you ever been to the site of that air beast?’

The chief nodded. ‘Yes, ja-gwara, I have.’

Ja-gwara – it was a uniquely fitting name for Narov, reflecting her incredible ability to adapt and survive.

‘How well do you remember it?’ Narov asked. ‘And will you draw for me any marking that you saw there.’

The chief started sketching something in the sandy floor of the hut. After a few false starts, it gradually resolved itself into a darkly familiar image: an eagle in silhouette, wings outstretched, hooked beak thrown over its right shoulder, and with a bizarre circular symbol superimposed over its tail.

A Reichsadler.

This symbol was stamped on the rear of the aircraft, the chief explained, just forward of its tail. And it was the same symbol that had been carved into the skin of his warriors, he added – those who had been captured by the Dark Force and killed.

Jaeger stared at the image for a long second, his mind a whirl. He sensed that they were closing in, towards an end point; towards a reckoning. Yet at the same time he was gripped by an overwhelming feeling of dread, as if the fates were crowding in on him from all sides and he had no control…

‘There are words stamped beside that eagle symbol,’ Puruwehua volunteered. ‘I made a note of them.’ He scrawled something in the sand: Kampfeswader 200 and Geswaderkomodore A3. ‘I speak English, Portuguese and our native language,’ he added. ‘But this – I believe it is maybe German?’

It was Narov who responded, her voice low and burning with a barely suppressed loathing. ‘Your spelling is a little off, but Kampfgeschwader 200 was the Luftwaffe’s special forces flight. And Geschwaderkommodore A3 was one of the titles given to SS General Hans Kammler, the commander of that flight. After Hitler, Kammler was one of the most powerful men in the Nazi Reich.’

‘He was Hitler’s plenipotentiary,’ Jaeger added, remembering the archivist’s mystery email. ‘Towards the end of the war – that’s what Hitler made him.’

‘He was,’ Narov confirmed. ‘But do you know what that confers – the status of plenipotentiary?’

Jaeger shrugged. ‘Kind of a special representative?’

‘So much more… A plenipotentiary is someone given full power to act on behalf of a regime, and with total impunity. After Hitler, Kammler was the most powerful and evil man in a uniquely evil group. By the end of the war he had the blood of many thousands on his hands. And he had also become one of the richest men in the world.

‘Priceless artworks, gold bullion, diamonds, cash,’ Narov continued. ‘Across all of conquered Europe the Nazis plundered everything of value they could lay their hands on. And you know what happened to SS Oberst-Gruppenführer Hans Kammler and his loot when the war was over?’

The bitter anger behind Narov’s words was bleeding through now. ‘Disappeared. Vanished off the face of the earth. It is one of the greatest mysteries – and scandals – of the Second World War: what happened to Hans Kammler and his ill-gotten fortune? Who protected him? Who hid his millions?’

She glanced around the faces, her burning gaze coming to rest on Jaeger’s. ‘This aircraft – it is very likely Kammler’s personal warplane.’