Bear Grylls - Ghost Flight

He’d promised to be back in time to bring Dale and Narov home, once they were well enough to travel. He’d got Raff to sit permanent guard outside their hospital door, as an added layer of security.

Before leaving, Jaeger had grabbed a few moments with Narov, only recently released from the intensive care unit. He’d taken a look at the papers she’d retrieved from the Ju 390. The German was still mostly lost on him, and much of the Aktion Feuerland document proved to be written in a sequence of apparently random numbers, which Narov figured had to be code.

Without breaking that code, there wasn’t a great deal more that she – or Jaeger – could glean from the document.

At one point she had asked Jaeger to wheel her into the hospital garden, so she could feel the sun on her face and get some fresh air. Once they were positioned somewhere reasonably private, she had gone a little way to explaining some of what had happened over the past few days. Predictably, in order to do so she’d had to start with the Second World War.

‘You saw the kind of technology that was on that warplane,’ she had begun weakly. ‘By the spring of 1945, the Nazis had test-fired intercontinental ballistic missiles. They had fitted warheads with sarin nerve gas, not to mention plague and botulinum toxins. With just a handful of such weapons – one each to hit London, New York, Washington, Toronto and Moscow – the fortunes of the war might have turned completely.

‘Against that we had the atom bomb, but we hadn’t yet perfected that. And remember, it could only be delivered by a lumbering bomber, not by a guided missile travelling at many times the speed of sound. We had zero defence against their missiles.

‘The Nazis had the ultimate threat, and they offered the Allies a deal – one that would allow the Reich to relocate to chosen safe havens, complete with their highest-tech weaponry. But the Allies made a counter-offer. They said: “Okay, relocate. Take all your Wunderwaffe with you. But on one condition: you join us in the real struggle – the coming global fight against communism.”

‘The Allies cut a deal to sponsor the most secret relocations. They couldn’t of course have the top Nazis turning up in mainland Britain or the USA. The public wouldn’t have stood for it. They sent them instead into their own backyards – the Americans to South America; the British to the colonies – to India, Australia and South Africa, places where it was easy enough to hide them.

‘So a new pact was forged. An unspeakable one. The Allied–Nazi pact.’ Narov had paused, digging deep to find the strength to continue. ‘ Aktion Adlerflug – Operation Eagle Flight – was Hitler’s code name for the plan to relocate the Nazis’ top technology and weaponry; hence those stamps on the crates in the Ju 390’s hold. Aktion Feuerland – Operation Fire Land – was the code name for the relocation of their top people.’

She glanced at Jaeger with pained eyes. ‘We have never had a list of exactly who those people were. Never, in spite of all the years searching. The documents retrieved from that warplane – that’s what I hope they may yield. That, and a sense of where exactly the technology and the individuals went.’

Jaeger had been tempted to ask why it mattered. It was seven decades ago. It was old news. But Narov must have guessed as much.

‘There is an old saying.’ She’d motioned him closer, her voice weakening with the exhaustion. ‘The child of a snake is still a snake. The Allies had forged a pact with the devil. The longer it was kept hidden, the more powerful and controlling it became, until it was all but unassailable. We believe it persists at all levels of the military, banking and world government – even today.’

She must have seen the doubt clouding Jaeger’s eyes.

‘You think this is far-fetched?’ she had whispered defiantly. ‘Ask yourself for how long the Knights Templar legacy lasted. Nazism is less than a hundred years old; the Knights Templar legacy has lasted two thousand years, and it is still with us today. You think the Nazis just faded away overnight? You think those who were relocated to the safe havens would have allowed the Reich to die? You think their children would have abandoned what they saw as their birthright?

‘The Reichsadler with the strange circular symbol beneath the tail – we believe that is their symbol, their stamp. And as you well know, it has started to rear its head again.’

For a moment Jaeger had thought she was done, the exhaustion silencing her. But then from somewhere she’d found the strength for a final few words.

‘William Edward Michael Jaeger, if you still have doubts, there is one thing that should prove this for you. Think about the people who tried to stop us. They killed three of your team, and many more Indians. They had Predator, Black Hawks and God only knows what else. They were deep black and ultra-deniable. Imagine who might wield that kind of power, or act with such impunity.

‘The sons of the snakes are rising. They have a global network and their power grows. And as they have a network, so there is a network that aims to stop them.’ She paused, her face drained of all colour. ‘Before his death, your grandfather was the head of it. Those invited to join each get given a knife – a symbol of resistance – similar to the one that I carry.

‘But who wants this poisoned chalice thrust upon them? Who? The power of the enemy is on the rise, while ours – it is waning. Wir Sind die Zukunft. You have heard their motto: we are the future .’

Her eyes had flickered across to Jaeger. ‘Those of us who hunt them – we do not normally get to live for long.’

‘Sir, hello. Sir, a drink before we land?’ the air hostess repeated for the third time.

Jaeger had been miles away, reliving that conversation with Narov. She hadn’t said a great deal more. The exhaustion and pain had got the better of her, and Jaeger had wheeled her back to her hospital bed.

He flashed the hostess a smile. ‘A Bloody Mary, please. Lots of Worcestershire sauce.’

Bioko airport hadn’t changed a great deal since Jaeger’s last visit. A new force of security and customs officers had replaced President Honore Chambara’s corrupt and venal guard, but otherwise, it looked pretty much the same. The familiar figure of Pieter Boerke was waiting at Arrivals, complete with a couple of hulking great guys Jaeger recognised as his security detail.

Boerke had just overrun a despotic dictator, and he wasn’t one for discreet, low-level close protection. The South African held out a hand of welcome, before turning to his bodyguards. ‘Right, boys, bloody grab him! Let’s get him back into Black Beach!’

For a moment, Jaeger tensed himself for battle, then Boerke burst into laughter. ‘Calm down, man, calm down! We South Africans have a bloody nasty sense of humour. It’s good to see you again, my friend.’

On the drive to Malabo, the island’s capital, Boerke filled Jaeger in on how well the coup had gone. The intelligence that Major Mojo – Jaeger’s former Black Beach jailer – had provided had proven crucial to its success, another reason why Boerke had been keen to deliver on the favour he’d promised.

They reached Malabo’s Santa Isabel harbour and headed along the waterfront, pulling up in front of a grand colonial-era building overlooking the water. During his three years on the island, Jaeger had done his best to keep a low profile, and he’d rarely had cause to visit the government offices.

Boerke led him to the vaults, wherein successive regimes had stowed away the nation’s most sensitive documents – not that there were many to be had in a place like Equatorial Guinea. Boerke got the doors to the vault firmly closed and bolted, with his bodyguards standing watch outside. Just he and Jaeger remained in the cool, dark, musty interior.