‘What’s inside?’
‘I’m not sure, but they look really old.’
‘Anything else?’
Zimmermann hesitated. ‘Maybe.’
‘What is it?’ he snapped, not in the mood for games.
‘I think I know where they’re going.’
‘Where?’
‘One of them mentioned the gorge. He said a pilot would-’
Before Zimmermann could say another word, his head erupted in a fountain of pink mist, thanks to the perfectly placed shot from Jones’s DSR-1 rifle. After passing through his medulla oblongata – dubbed the ‘apricot’ by snipers – the part of the brain that controlled involuntary movement and ensured an instant kill, the bullet blew out Zimmermann’s teeth and struck the radio he was holding against his mouth. A split second later, a mixture of blood, bone and technology covered the forest floor, as if Jones had just shot the Terminator.
But unlike the infamous cyborg, Zimmermann wouldn’t be coming back.
Thunder roared from the bird’s nest, high above the cul-de-sac. The rifle blast was so deafening it echoed throughout the Garmisch-Partenkirchen valley.
Like a sprinter bursting from his starting blocks, Payne reacted instantly, grabbing Collins and throwing him behind the trailer before diving to safety. Whereas most people took several seconds to process violent stimuli, years of training had taught Payne how to shrug off the confusion that followed an unexpected surge of adrenaline and focus on the mission at hand.
Pulling his gun from his belt, Payne crouched next to the crates, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees for possible gunmen. As he did, he realized Kaiser was unprotected, strapped to the top of the crates like a dead animal. Thankfully, he was unconscious again and lying perfectly still. To most intruders, he would look like a corpse instead of a potential target, so Payne left him alone instead of cutting him free.
‘Status?’ Payne whispered into his radio.
Focused on more urgent matters, Jones didn’t reply right away. ‘One down, approximately fifty feet to the north … Still searching for hostiles.’
‘Keep me posted.’
Twenty seconds passed before he spoke again. ‘Looks clear.’
‘You sure?’
Jones paused. ‘Not really.’
Payne didn’t smile. ‘Let me know when you’re
‘Ain’t gonna happen. Forest is too thick. Too many blind spots.’
‘Recommendation?’
‘The sooner you roll, the better.’
Payne nodded in agreement. Not only was he worried about a team of gunmen attacking the site, it was only a matter of time before the authorities arrived. ‘Will you be joining us?’
‘Eventually, but not right away.’
‘Gotta take a piss?’
‘Gotta cook Hogzilla.’
The moment Payne and Jones joined a Special Mission Unit, their fingerprints were permanently classified by order of the Joint Special Operations Command. This protected their identities when they were running top-secret missions for SOCOM, such as counter terrorism, unconventional warfare or personnel recovery. But sometimes, classified fingerprints weren’t enough. Occasionally, they were forced to take drastic steps in order to cover their tracks – whether that was to destroy physical evidence (security videos, bullet casings, etc.) or to conceal the identities of local contacts – people who would be killed or arrested if their involvement was detected.
When done properly, it was quite effective. And a whole lot of fun.
Normally, the thought of setting a fire in the woods would have been dismissed as overkill, but after weighing the pros and cons, Jones realized he didn’t have much of a choice. If he wanted to keep Kaiser and Ulster out of trouble, he had to torch the bunker before the cops had a chance to investigate it. He reasoned the concrete walls and the lack of ventilation would keep the blaze from spreading to the nearby vegetation, yet it would burn long enough to destroy all the evidence that could be used against them. As an added bonus, he knew the sight of black smoke billowing from the trees would be a wonderful distraction during their escape attempt. When the authorities rushed to put out the fire, the choppers could land undetected in the gorge.
It was a win-win in his mind.
While Jones watched over them, Payne and Collins cleaned the site by dumping everything they could find into the bunker. This included camping supplies, the winch and pulley system, and both dead goons. Curious about their identities, Payne searched their pockets and found their wallets – a sure sign they weren’t trained professionals. After memorizing their names and addresses, he threw their wallets in the hole, then started his journey to the rendezvous point.
Once the ATV and trailer were safely on its way, Jones hustled down the slope and tossed the rifle into the bunker where it would burn with everything else. Next to the entrance, Jones found the two items that he would use to set the blaze. Payne had stacked them neatly by the ladder, as if he were leaving gifts underneath a Christmas tree.
One was the emergency fuel can for the ATV.
The other was a box of waterproof matches.
Let the pig roast begin.
Even though Krueger was smart, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened to Zimmermann. He had stopped talking at roughly the same time as the rifle blast. After that, no additional shots were fired. Repeated attempts to get him on the radio were fruitless. Obviously, they had taken him out. Much like the other goon before him.
No longer in such a hurry to investigate the bunker, Krueger replayed the conversation with Zimmermann in his head. What did he say before he was shot? Something about a pilot meeting Kaiser at the gorge? Considering the density of the forest and the slope of the mountain, Krueger knew the far end of the ravine was the closet spot a helicopter could land.
All things considered, it was a good place for a rendezvous. But a better place for an ambush.
35
Located on the Zugspitze, the highest peak in the Bavarian Alps, the Schneeferner is a glacier that formed during the Little Ice Age, an extended period of cooling that ended in the mid-nineteenth century. Since that time, the glacier has been gradually melting. Slowly at first, but now at an alarming rate. To protect the ice in the summer months, local workers lay down more than 60,000 square metres of reflective tarps, hoping to shield the glacier from the sun.
Unfortunately, the tarps can’t stop global warming.
As the ice continues to melt, the water trickles down the mountain in tranquil streams that eventually run together to form the Partnach River. For most of its voyage, the Partnach is a peaceful waterway. It meanders at a casual pace, as if it is trying to see all the sights in the Bavarian countryside before it flows through the middle of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, where it divides the city into two separate villages: Garmisch to the west and Partenkirchen to the east. However, during one particular stretch of its journey, the waterway changes drastically, morphing from a gentle, rolling brook into a nasty, roaring river.
The Partnach Gorge, or Partnachklamm, is a natural channel that was created over time by the force of rushing water. For a span of 2,305 feet, the Partnach River surges through a narrow limestone canyon, its walls soaring to the height of 262 feet. Along the way, dozens of waterfalls fill the air with spray, moistening the moss- covered cliffs and cooling the thousands of tourists who explore the gorge every year. Since being declared a natural monument in 1912, a series of tunnels have been carved into the limestone on one side of the river. Originally used by hunters and lumberjacks to reach the mountains above, the sloping path allows hikers to duck behind waterfalls and stroll next to raging rapids with minimal risk.
Of course, the danger would be much higher today when bullets filled the air like mist.
