“Somebody got there before we did,” he replied.
“We know.” Cam gestured for him to sit, and she immediately provided him another bottled water. The ship’s physicians had warned them that being surrounded in the pure oxygen of the exosuit might result in extreme dehydration. It was important for Gunner to drink lots of water for his body to adjust. “We came across another submersible while we were videotaping the wreckage. We played cat and mouse before they gave up and took off.”
Bear returned to his seat and checked the control panel. “We also came across one of their divers heading out of the hull.”
“Yellow exosuit?” asked Gunner.
“Yes,” replied Cam. “We thought about reeling him in, but you were at the end of your oxygen, and we didn’t want to risk it.”
“I was beyond the initial supply, and the suit was fortunately running on the recycled, limited air at the end.”
Cam tilted her head. “I set the timer. You should’ve had more time.”
“Yeah, in a perfect world,” Gunner agreed. “I came across the same diver leaving the sub. As I tried to chase him down, I hit a part of the wreckage and then got body-slammed against the hull. It completely shut down my computer system and the oxygen system at the same time.”
“Damn!” said Bear.
“Anyway, we’d fought for a minute, but it was ridiculously clumsy. He dropped the last canister into the bottom of the sub and took off. I decided to let him go and locate the canister.”
Cam fist-bumped Gunner. “I see you found it.”
“The damn thing hit the bottom of the sub. I got a little lost trying to make my way to the stern and the extraction point. Otherwise, I would’ve been waiting on you guys.”
Bear turned to the Gray Fox team. “Unless you wanna go chase down the other diver, we can start heading topside.”
“We’d never find him,” said Cam. “I vote we head up.”
“Same here,” said Gunner. “I wanna get our video and still shots to Ghost so we can figure out who ran off with a thousand canisters of whatever this stuff is.”
“I’ll text the surface in a minute and let them know we’re headed up,” said Bear.
“Let’s not mention the other canisters unless we’re specifically asked how many I saw,” began Gunner. “In fact, I might very well lie to anyone who inquires. Here’s the thing. That took a lot of planning and manpower to empty the sub of all the canisters we saw on Ballard’s video footage. There’s no way to carry the things out more than one at a time.”
Cam ran her fingers through her hair. “Are you thinking multiple submersibles?”
“At least two, with two-man teams, operating at the same time. Even then, they must have some kind of pully system or ROV device to haul the canisters out so quickly.”
Bear began their ascent to the surface. He directed their attention to the timer so they could follow along. He turned and patted Gunner on the back. “You did a helluva job getting that thing. I gotta feelin’ we’re just gettin’ started, though.”
“Same here,” said Cam.
“Whatever this shit is,” said Gunner, pointing at the locker containing the titanium canister, “somebody moved heaven and earth to get to it before we did.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Mar del Plata
Buenos Aires Province
South Atlantic Coast of Argentina
January 1945
Weeks before, Hans Schaeffer had strolled through the streets of Dusseldorf. The once lovely, vibrant town on the Rhine River in Western Germany near the Netherlands had become his adopted home after fleeing Berlin. As he walked, he lamented to himself how Dusseldorf was a shadow of its former self, barely recognizable, as it had been ravaged by war.
Much like its people. All around him were shabby, haggard residents and the skeletal remains of their once modest homes. According to his orders, these were to be his final days in Germany, or so he thought. There would be one more trip the following year in the summer of 1945. That would be his last.
The next day, he was to report to the Elbe II submarine pen in Hamburg. His mission was secretive. His destination was known only to him and a select few. This had become the norm in the latter part of the war.
He was told to pack his most basic of belongings, and he could bring one companion if he chose to. Schaeffer had no family. They’d all been killed over the course of the war, including his wife, who never saw the Allies’ bomb coming for their home.
He’d been assigned to U-977, a Type VII submarine widely considered the workhouse of the German U-boat force. It did not have the same range as the larger Type IX U-boats, but it was faster. It was also easier to refuel when it was sailing for the far reaches of the western and southern Atlantic Ocean.
On this journey, he left Hanover and had an interim stopover in Norway, after which he began his submerged passage to the Cape Verde Islands, a fueling stop controlled by the German Navy. His journey continued into the South Atlantic for sixty-seven days, just below the surface, using the U-boat’s snorkel for travel. Word had traveled throughout the German Navy of the demise of the U-1226. The snorkel failure had been blamed for the lost contact, and therefore many U-boat commanders insisted upon traveling at a shallow depth, using the snorkel for air and navigation.
He was unfamiliar with the civilian passengers he ferried, and he looked the other way as their belongings were loaded onto his submarine. He was loyal to the Reich and knew better than to interfere with the business of the SS.
He never in his wildest dreams imagined he’d travel that far away from Europe. Argentina was completely unknown to him, for he’d never had a reason to study geography or history to understand the region.
When he’d completely surfaced, he exited the conning tower to take in his surroundings. It
