positions of world power, while at the same time harnessing the most fearsome of the Wunderwaffe to their ends.
That much had been revealed in documents recovered from the aircraft in the Amazon. And in undertaking that expedition, Jaeger had realised that another, frighteningly powerful force was also searching for the warplane, intent on burying its secrets for ever.
Vladimir and his people had hunted Jaeger’s team across the Amazon. Of their captives, only Leticia Santos had been spared, and that so as to coerce and entrap Jaeger and his fellow operators. But then Narov had turned up trumps, discovering the location of Santos’s prison – hence the rescue mission they had just undertaken, a mission that had thrown up new and vital evidence.
‘There’s been a development,’ Jaeger announced. Over time, he’d learnt that it was best to ignore the worst of Narov’s crabbiness. ‘We broke the passwords. Got into their computer; their drives.’
He handed her a sheet of paper. It had a few words scrawled across it.
Kammler H.
BV222
Katavi
Choma Malaika
‘These are the keywords we’ve picked up from their email chatter,’ Jaeger explained. ‘Vladimir – if that’s his real name – was communicating with someone higher up. The guy who calls the shots. Those words came up repeatedly in their comms.’
Narov read them over a few times. ‘Interesting.’ Her tone had softened slightly. ‘Kammler H. That is SS General Hans Kammler, presumably, though we all thought of him as long dead.
‘BV222,’ she continued. ‘The Blohm and Voss BV222 Wiking – has to be. A Second World War flying boat – a real beast of a machine that could land just about anywhere there was water.’
‘ Wiking meaning Viking, presumably?’ Jaeger queried.
Narov snorted. ‘Well done.’
‘And the rest?’ he prompted, not rising to the provocation.
Narov shrugged. ‘Katavi. Choma Malaika. Sounds almost African.’
‘It does,’ Jaeger confirmed.
‘So, have you checked?’
‘I have.’
‘Well?’ she demanded irritably.
Jaeger smiled. ‘Want to know what I discovered?’
Narov scowled. She knew that Jaeger was playing with her now. ‘How do you say – does the bear shit in the woods?’
Jaeger smiled. ‘Choma Malaika is Swahili for “Burning Angels”, Swahili being the language of East Africa. I learned some while on operations there. Plus get this. Katavi translates into English as . . . “the Hunter”.’
Narov flashed him a look. The significance of that name certainly wasn’t lost on her.
Ever since childhood, Jaeger had believed in portents. He was superstitious, and especially when things seemed to signify something to him personally. ‘The Hunter’ was the nickname he’d been given during their expedition into the Amazon, and it wasn’t one he had adopted lightly.
An Amazon Indian tribe – the Amahuaca – had helped them in their quest for that hidden warplane. They had proved the most constant and loyal of companions. One of the tribal chief’s sons, Gwaihutiga, had coined that name – The Hunter – for Jaeger, after he had saved them from all-but-certain annihilation. And when Gwaihutiga had lost his life at the hands of Vladimir and his murderous crew, the name had become even more precious. Jaeger cherished it, lest he forget.
And now, another hunter on another ancient continent – Africa – seemed to be calling to him.
12
Narov gestured at the scribbled list. ‘We need to get this to my people. Those last words – Katavi; Choma Malaika – they are sure to signify something more to them.’
‘You’ve got a lot of confidence in them – your people. A lot of trust in their abilities.’
‘They are the best. In every sense of the word they are the best.’
‘Which reminds me – just who are your people? I’m long overdue an explanation, don’t you think?’
Narov shrugged. ‘I agree. To that end my people have invited you to come and meet with
That much had been revealed in documents recovered from the aircraft in the Amazon. And in undertaking that expedition, Jaeger had realised that another, frighteningly powerful force was also searching for the warplane, intent on burying its secrets for ever.
Vladimir and his people had hunted Jaeger’s team across the Amazon. Of their captives, only Leticia Santos had been spared, and that so as to coerce and entrap Jaeger and his fellow operators. But then Narov had turned up trumps, discovering the location of Santos’s prison – hence the rescue mission they had just undertaken, a mission that had thrown up new and vital evidence.
‘There’s been a development,’ Jaeger announced. Over time, he’d learnt that it was best to ignore the worst of Narov’s crabbiness. ‘We broke the passwords. Got into their computer; their drives.’
He handed her a sheet of paper. It had a few words scrawled across it.
Kammler H.
BV222
Katavi
Choma Malaika
‘These are the keywords we’ve picked up from their email chatter,’ Jaeger explained. ‘Vladimir – if that’s his real name – was communicating with someone higher up. The guy who calls the shots. Those words came up repeatedly in their comms.’
Narov read them over a few times. ‘Interesting.’ Her tone had softened slightly. ‘Kammler H. That is SS General Hans Kammler, presumably, though we all thought of him as long dead.
‘BV222,’ she continued. ‘The Blohm and Voss BV222 Wiking – has to be. A Second World War flying boat – a real beast of a machine that could land just about anywhere there was water.’
‘ Wiking meaning Viking, presumably?’ Jaeger queried.
Narov snorted. ‘Well done.’
‘And the rest?’ he prompted, not rising to the provocation.
Narov shrugged. ‘Katavi. Choma Malaika. Sounds almost African.’
‘It does,’ Jaeger confirmed.
‘So, have you checked?’
‘I have.’
‘Well?’ she demanded irritably.
Jaeger smiled. ‘Want to know what I discovered?’
Narov scowled. She knew that Jaeger was playing with her now. ‘How do you say – does the bear shit in the woods?’
Jaeger smiled. ‘Choma Malaika is Swahili for “Burning Angels”, Swahili being the language of East Africa. I learned some while on operations there. Plus get this. Katavi translates into English as . . . “the Hunter”.’
Narov flashed him a look. The significance of that name certainly wasn’t lost on her.
Ever since childhood, Jaeger had believed in portents. He was superstitious, and especially when things seemed to signify something to him personally. ‘The Hunter’ was the nickname he’d been given during their expedition into the Amazon, and it wasn’t one he had adopted lightly.
An Amazon Indian tribe – the Amahuaca – had helped them in their quest for that hidden warplane. They had proved the most constant and loyal of companions. One of the tribal chief’s sons, Gwaihutiga, had coined that name – The Hunter – for Jaeger, after he had saved them from all-but-certain annihilation. And when Gwaihutiga had lost his life at the hands of Vladimir and his murderous crew, the name had become even more precious. Jaeger cherished it, lest he forget.
And now, another hunter on another ancient continent – Africa – seemed to be calling to him.
12
Narov gestured at the scribbled list. ‘We need to get this to my people. Those last words – Katavi; Choma Malaika – they are sure to signify something more to them.’
‘You’ve got a lot of confidence in them – your people. A lot of trust in their abilities.’
‘They are the best. In every sense of the word they are the best.’
‘Which reminds me – just who are your people? I’m long overdue an explanation, don’t you think?’
Narov shrugged. ‘I agree. To that end my people have invited you to come and meet with
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