"Really?" Smith said. "How many people have I killed for you? Fifty? A hundred? Two hundred? I can't even remember. Not a one of which has ever been tagged murder. I'd say cover-up is my specialty."
Unfortunately the cocky little weasel was right, so he decided to try diplomacy. "What can I do to assure you, Charlie? We've been together a long time. I'm going to need you in the years ahead."
Smith did not answer.
"How many women did he kill?" McCoy asked him.
Ramsey wondered about that question. "Does it matter?"
"Does to me."
Then he realized. Edwin Davis. Her co-worker. "This about Millicent?"
"Did Mr. Smith here kill her?"
He decided to be honest and nodded.
"She was pregnant?"
"That's what I was told. But who knows? Women lie."
"So you just killed her?"
"Seemed the simplest way to end the problem. Charlie here was working for us in Europe. That's when we first met. He handled the job well, and he's been mine ever since."
"I'm not yours," Smith said, contempt in his voice. "I work for you. You pay me."
"And there's lots more money to be made," the admiral made clear.
Smith stepped toward the open panel in the wall. "Leads down to a concealed cellar. Probably came in handy during the Civil War. Good place to hide things."
He caught the message. Like a body.
"Charlie, killing me would be a really bad idea."
Smith turned and aimed his gun. "Maybe so. But it sure as hell will make me feel better."
MALONE LEFT THE BRIGHT SUNSHINE AND ENTERED HALVORSEN Base, followed by the others. Their host, waiting for them on the ice when they'd deplaned into a blast of frigid air, was a swarthy, bearded Australian-stocky, robust, and seemingly competent-named Taperell.
The base comprised an assembly of high-tech buildings buried beneath thick snow, powered by a sophisticated solar and wind-of-the-art, Taperell said, then added, "You're fortunate today. Only minus thirteen degrees Celsius. Bloody warm for this part of the world."
The Aussie led them into a spacious wood-paneled room, filled with tables and chairs, that smelled of cooking food. A digital thermometer on the far wall read nineteen degrees Celsius.
"Hamburgers, chips, and drinks will be here in a tick," Taperell said. "I thought you'd need some tucker."
"I assume that means food," Malone said.
Taperell smiled. "What else, mate?"
"Can we get going as soon as we eat?"
Their host nodded. "No worries, that's what I was told. I have a chopper ready. Where you headin'?"
Malone faced Henn. "Your turn."
Christl stepped forward. "Actually, I have what you need."
STEPHANIE WATCHED AS DAVIS STOOD FROM HIS CHAIR AND ASKED the president, "What do you mean, you found him?"
"I offered the vacancy on the Joint Chiefs to Ramsey today. I called him and he said yes."
"I assume there's a good reason you did that," Davis said.
"You know, Edwin, we seem to stay twisted around. It's like you're the president and I'm the deputy national security adviser-and I say that with a special emphasis on the word deputy."
"I know who's the boss. You know who's the boss. Just tell us why you're here in the middle of the night."
She saw that Daniels didn't mind the brash insolence.
"When I went to Britain a few years ago," the president said, "I was asked to join a foxhunt. Brits love that crap. Get all dressed up, early in the morning, mount a smelly horse, then take off following a bunch of howlin' dogs. They told me how great it was. Except, of course, if you're the fox. Then, it's a bitch. Being the compassionate soul that I am, I kept thinking about the fox, so I passed."
"Are we going hunting?" she asked.
She saw a twinkle in the president's eye. "Oh, yes. But the great thing about this trek is, the foxes don't know we're coming."
MALONE WATCHED AS CHRISTL UNFOLDED A MAP AND SPREAD IT out on one of the tables. "Mother explained it to me."
"And what made you so special?" Dorothea asked.
"I assumed she thought I'd keep a level head, though apparently she believes me to be a vengeful dreamer out to ruin our family."
"Are you?" Dorothea asked.
Christl's gaze bore into Dorothea. "I'm an Oberhauser. The last of a long line, and I plan to honor my ancestors."
"How about we focus on the problem at hand," Malone said. "The weather is great out there. Weneed to take advantage of that whilewe can."
Christl had brought the newer map of Antarctica that Isabel had tempted him with in Ossau, the one she'd failed to unfold. Now he saw that all of the various continental bases were denoted, most along the coast, including Halvorsen.
"Grandfather visited here and here," Christl said, pointing to spots marked 1 and 2. "His notes say that most of the stones he brought back come from Site 1, though he spent a great deal of time at Site 2. The expedition brought a cabin, disassembled, to erect somewhere to firmly stake Germany's claim. They chose to build the cabin on Site 2, here, near the coast."
Malone had asked Taperell to stay. He now faced the Aussie and said, "Where is that?"
"I know it. About fifty miles west of here."
"It's still there?" Werner asked.
"Deadset," Taperell said. "She'll be right-wood doesn't rot here. That thing would be like the day they erected it. And especially there-the entire region is designated a protected area. A site of 'special scientific interest' under the Antarctica Conservation Act. You can only visit with an okay from Norway."
"Why is that?" Dorothea asked.
"The coast belongs to seals. It's a breeding area. No people allowed. The cabin sits in one of the inland dry valleys."
"Mother says that Father told her he was taking the Americans to Site 2," Christl said. "Grandfather always wanted to return and explore more, but was never allowed."
"How do we know that's the spot?" Malone asked.
He caught mischief in Christl's eye. She reached back into her pack and retrieved a thin, colorful book titled in German. He silently translated. A Visit to Neuschwabenland, Fifty Years Later.
"This is a picture volume published in 1988. A German magazine sent a film crew and a photographer. Mother came across it about five years ago." She thumbed through, searching for a particular page. "This is the cabin." She showed them a striking, two-page color image of a gray wooden structure set within a black rock valley, streaked with bright snow, dwarfed by bare gray mountains. She turned the page. "This is a shot of the inside."
Malone studied the picture. Not much there. A table with magazines scattered on top, a few chairs, two bunks, packing crates adapted into shelving, a stove, and a radio.
Her amused eyes met his. "See anything?"
She was doing to him what he'd done to her in Ossau. So he accepted her challenge and carefully scanned the picture, as did the others.
Then he saw it. On the flooring. Carved into one of the planks.
He pointed. "The same symbol from the book cover found in Charlemagne's tomb."
She smiled. "This has to be the place. And there's this." She slid a folded sheet of paper from the book. A page from an old magazine, yellowed and brittle with a grainy black-and-white image from inside the cabin.
"That came from the Ahnenerbe records I obtained," Dorothea said. "I remember. I looked at it in Munich."
"Mother retrieved them," Christl said, "and noticed this photograph. Look on the floor-the symbol is clearly visible. This was published in the spring of 1939, an article Grandfather wrote about the previous year's expedition."
"I told her those records were worthwhile," Dorothea said.
Malone faced Taperell. "Seems that's where we're going."
Taperell pointed to the map. "This area here, on the coast, is all ice shelf with seawater beneath. It extends inland about five miles in what would be a respectable bay, if not frozen. The cabin is on the
other side of a ridge, maybe a mile inland on what would be the bay's west shore. We can drop you there and pick you back up when you're ready. Like I said, reckon you're in luck with the weather, it's a scorcher out there today."
Minus thirteen degrees Celsius wasn't his idea of tropical, but he got the point. "We'll need emergency gear, just in case."
"Already have two sleds prepared. We were expecting you."
"You don't ask a lot of questions, do you?" Malone quizzed.
Taperell shook his head. "No, mate. I'm just here to do my job."
"Then let's eat that tucker and get going."
EIGHTY-FOUR
FORT LEE
"MR. PRESIDENT," DAVIS SAID. "WOULD IT BE POSSIBLE FOR YOU TO simply explain yourself. No stories, no riddles. It's awfully late, and I don't have the energy to be patient and respectful."
"Edwin, I like you. Most of the assholes I deal with tell me either what they think I want to hear or what I don't need to know. You're different. You tell me what I have to hear. No sugarcoating, just straight up. That's why when you told me about Ramsey, I listened. Anybody else, I would have let it go in one ear and out the other. But not you. Yes, I was skeptical, but you were right."
"What have you done?" Davis asked.
She'd sensed something, too, in the president's tone.
"I simply gave him what he wanted. The appointment. Nothing rocks a man to sleep better than success. I should know-it's been used on me many times." Daniels' gaze drifted to the refrigerated compartment. "It's what's in there that fascinates me. A record of a people we've never known. They lived a long time ago. Did things. Thought things. Yet we had no idea they existed."
Daniels reached into his pocket and removed a piece of paper. "Look at this."
"It's a petroglyph from the Hathor Temple at Dendera. I saw it a few years ago. The thing's huge, with towering columns. It's fairly recent, as far as Egypt goes, first century before Christ. Those attendants are holding what looks like some kind of lamp, supported on pillars, so they must be heavy, connected to a box on the ground by a cable. Look at the top of the columns, beneath the two bulbs. Looks like a condenser, doesn't it?"