They carried back to Germany scores of ancient religious artefacts, together with the cranial measurements and casts, which they claimed proved their theory. Himmler was ecstatic: he greeted Schafer with gifts of a special SS dagger and a silver death’s-head ring.
Hitler himself read Schafer’s reports and was impressed. All the expedition team were promoted up the ranks of the SS, and the Nyenchen Tanglha Mountains went down in SS mythology as the legendary Aryan fatherland.
And now it seemed that Hank Kammler – son of the SS general who had done so much to further such ideas – had headed for this region. There was a dark symbolism in Kammler’s hiding out in the Nyenchen Tanglha Mountains, of that Jaeger felt certain.
Kammler was nothing if not smart. A man of wealth, thanks to his father’s post-war dealings, he’d sunk significant resources into projects in isolated parts of the world, including a remote private game reserve in Katavi, in East Africa – somewhere that had provided perfect cover for his germ warfare research.
It was there that Jaeger and his team had nailed him, or so they had thought.
Now, in the Nyenchen Tanglha Mountains, he had established a cover for his newest and darkest aspirations. According to the intelligence Jaeger was reading, if Kammler was breeding a clutch of INDs, he was very likely doing it from here. If Brooks and Miles were right, on the snowfields overlooking the Heavenly Lake, Kammler had set up a veritable devil’s sanctuary.
A sanctuary from where he planned to unleash a new Armageddon.
47
‘Truce?’ Jaeger suggested, as he offered Narov a steaming brew.
She swung her legs off the seats. ‘I did not know we were at war.’
Jaeger said nothing. Over the past seventy-two hours it had certainly felt that way.
He broke out his steel flask and mixed her a hot chocolate from some sachets in his rations. Raff and Alonzo would sleep until the cows came home, just as they always did. It was only Jaeger and Narov who were awake.
They were two hours out from Takhli, and once they touched down, they had to hit the ground running. They were poised to deploy on the most challenging mission they had ever faced, and they needed to gel as a team. Hence the mug of hot chocolate. Call it a peace offering.
Jaeger nodded at Narov’s iPad. ‘You’ve read the reports?’
‘I have. Several times.’
‘What d’you reckon?’
‘From all the intel from St Georgen, we know that fissile material – uranium – has almost certainly been removed from those tunnels. Trouble is, no one knows how much was there in the first place. But we can make a good guess. There were how many in the gang who hit the film crew?’
‘Six.’
‘Six men can carry what, in terms of loads? Maybe thirty kilos each. So, presuming they made the one run, let’s say they retrieved a hundred and eighty kilos from the tunnels. Plus they have a hundred kilos incoming from Moldova, or at least they think they have. And there are the previous flights… So what are they doing with all this material?’
‘Multiple INDs.’
‘Multiple INDs. Nothing else makes sense.’ Narov paused, blowing on her hot chocolate pensively. ‘Which potentially means multiple targets. And right now we have no idea where or what those targets are. Or their timescale.’
‘What’re you thinking?’
Narov glanced at him. ‘If I were Kammler – a crazed mass murderer with a delusional ego – I’d have started building my INDs just as soon as the first raw materials were to hand. And I would have started to filter those INDs out to their targets as soon as they were ready.’
Narov was no Kammler. In truth, she was his arch-enemy. But Jaeger figured she was dead right. Kammler very likely had shipped out his first INDs.
Right now, though, as she perched on her seat sipping her drink, Jaeger was struck by another thought entirely. Even with her fine blonde hair pulled back in a scrunchie and no make-up to speak of, Narov remained stunningly beautiful. He let the image linger in his thoughts. Longer than he had ever allowed himself to do before.
‘We have to presume Kammler has got his first INDs in position,’ Narov repeated, seemingly oblivious to Jaeger’s admiring gaze. ‘Which means we’ve got to trace them. Stop them.’ She paused. ‘Where would Kammler make his targets, do you think?’
Jaeger took a sip of his own brew. Tea, laced with heaps of sugar. Raff had got him into it during their first week of commando selection. It was one bad habit that he’d never managed to shake. Ruth used to nag him about it incessantly. All that sugar would kill him. Jaeger knew many other things could kill him long before that.
‘Follow Kammler’s ego,’ he ventured. ‘Ego always has a pattern.’ He paused. ‘What will he aim for? Urban conurbations? City centres? Places where an IND’s lethality will cause maximum impact, but more importantly, mass panic and terror.’ He paused again. ‘Though if you think about it, he’s not going to blow one device until he can blow them all.’
‘Why not?’
‘’Cause if he blows one, the world is alerted. The search is on. Globally. City centres are shut down. All vehicles stopped; searched. The airspace cleared. You can’t detonate an IND unless you can deliver it to target. He’ll have to coordinate multiple strikes so that all go off at once. And that’s got to lend us a little time.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Narov’s ice-blue gaze met his. For once Jaeger figured he could detect a certain emotion in it, and it surprised him. Her eyes cried out fear; fear of what Kammler was capable of, especially if he was ahead of them in this dark game.
He felt an irresistible temptation to kiss her, to whisper words of reassurance. If he was honest with himself, he’d fallen hopelessly for this confounding woman. Yet at the same time, there was Ruth. Innocent until proven guilty.
He took a gulp of his tea.
He didn’t know what the hell to feel or think any more.
48
Narov grabbed her iPad, and pulled up one of Brooks’s documents. It was entitled: ‘The inevitability of ISIS achieving a nuclear terror strike’.
‘Did you see this? Background briefing.’
Jaeger shook his head. He’d trawled through the key documents – the mission-specific ones – but had then started to tire.
‘You know how large your average IND is?’ Narov continued. ‘About the size of a small fridge. You know how much it weighs? As little as a hundred kilos. Basically, you could carry it in an SUV. So while it is not exactly Ryanair hand luggage, it’s incredibly easy to hide. Carry across borders. Conceal. Deliver.’
She fixed Jaeger with a look, worry etched in her eyes. ‘We have to presume that Kammler has developed multiple delivery systems. Plus the links he’s forged with organised crime and drugs mean he’s got covert trafficking networks he can utilise.’
‘Yeah, but consider the upside,’ Jaeger countered. ‘It’s us.’
He reached out to touch Narov’s arm in a gesture of reassurance. Typically, she seemed to recoil – to freeze – at the prospect of any physical contact other than for the practical reasons of soldiering.
Jaeger shrugged it off. He glanced at his watch. ‘We’re one hour forty-five out from Takhli. When we touch down, there’ll be an AN-32 waiting on the apron. It’s two thousand klicks north to our target. That’s five hours’ flight time. We’ll be on the ground tonight, and at the target by the early hours of tomorrow morning. Miles has confirmed that Bear 12 is airborne and flying a similar route to the one we’ve taken. It’s got less range, so more fuelling stops, but it won’t be far behind.