Paulson glanced at the sealed doorway. “It that’s true, then we’d probably have gotten just a little puff of air.”
“This time everyone stands clear of the door before we plant the axe.” Jack knelt to the right of the door, making sure to position himself behind the solid wall.
“Okay, Leah.”
She reached up and pressed her palm against the familiar triangle. A millisecond later, the door flashed open and Jack thrust the axe underneath, letting it slam down into position. Only a light puff of warm air flowed from the door, signaling that the interior had depressurized itself completely during the explosive decompression.
“Okay, same drill,” said Jack. “You guys follow unless I start shouting.” He dropped to the floor and pulled himself underneath and into the darkness.
Leah peeked through behind him. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as Jack’s beam traveled around the interior; even the powerful halogen beam couldn’t cut through to the opposite wall.
“It looks okay,” he said. “Come on through.”
It was a much larger room, reminding Leah of an oversized wine cellar. Instead of wine bottles, massive racks contained bottle-shaped units, appearing to be three or four meters in length. The bottom half of each tube seemed to be made of the same silvery metallic substance as the rest of the structure. The top halves were semitransparent, a soft, yellow glow emanating from the glass-like surface.
Leah headed straight for the system of racks and tube units and looked at the first container she reached.
Inside, lay a perfectly preserved human body.
CHAPTER 69
Ridley stood with his arms held high as soldiers dressed in arctic combat garb pointed short-barreled automatic weapons at his chest. Each carried a large, white backpack and wore communications gear. The soldiers’ eyes were concealed by ski-style goggles with yellow tinted lenses.
“Please remove your headgear,” said one of the commandos.
Ridley glanced from side to side and nodded, indicating they should all pull down their hoods or remove their wool hats.
“I’m Commander Gus Beckam. Our orders are to evacuate Mr. Paulson and his party to a secure location within the United States. I’m looking for Mr. Paulson.”
Ridley stepped forward, a sign he knew from experience would identify him as the man in charge. He kept his hands up. “Paulson’s not here.” He turned in the direction of Thor’s Hammer. “Others in our party are over near the mountain called Thor’s Hammer examining an apparent plane crash.”
“How many of your team is located at the base of the mountain?”
“Five others, including Paulson.”
Several SEALs appeared from around the wing of the Las Tortugas. They walked up to the commander and conferred quietly.
The SEAL commander turned again to Ridley. “We’d like to use your snow machines and sleds to secure Mr. Paulson and the second group.”
Ridley nodded. The request had been made politely, but Ridley knew if he refused, they’d take the vehicles anyway.
“Are you in radio communication with Paulson?”
“We think they roped down into a crevasse because we can’t raise them on the radio.” Ridley looked at the SEAL before continuing. “Our radios burned up like 4th of July sparklers. You wouldn’t know anything about that I suppose?”
Beckam paused for a moment to consider what Ridley said. “No, I don’t,” he replied. Beckam pointed toward the sled-snow machine combination parked next to the B-29. “Clear the wheel and tire off the sled.”
Two SEALs lifted the wheel and propane-filled tire off the sled and rolled it over to the nearest Russian building, one that had been used as a makeshift machine shop.
Rooster glanced at his brother and then at Ridley as the SEALs leaned the tire against the wall. Ridley shook his head in a clear signal to keep their mouths shut. No reason to complicate the situation by trying to explain that the commandos were handling a potential bomb.
The SEAL pointed toward the snow machine. “Check it out.”
“It’s warmed up and in good shape, Skipper.”
Ridley heard someone call the leader by the name of Beckam.
“Danny,” Beckam said back to the man, “you take a crew over and secure the climbers. They said something about a plane crash. We should have transportation here within twelve hours, provided weather isn’t a problem. Get three guys, go through and collect all the radios and satellite phones from the civilians. We don’t want or need any unauthorized 911 calls.”
“Kind of like killing a spider with a howitzer, ain’t it,” Ridley said in an offhand manner.
“Gather your men,” he ordered Ridley, “and follow me.”
CHAPTER 70
Each three-meter, semi-clear tube contained one human body lying on a spongy material that molded itself to the shape of the occupant.
Jack touched the smooth surface that made up the top half of the tube and jerked his hand away. It felt icy cold to the touch in comparison with the warm temperature of the room. The body inside looked ghostly white, with a metallic-looking cloth covering the torso; a clear glassy tube about a half an inch in diameter running the length of the tube entered the body at what appeared to be the inner thigh.
“Did you notice…?” he said aloud.
Leah nodded.
The occupants looked very much like ethnic Native Americans.
“They’re alive,” Leah said.
“How do you know? I don’t see any movement, no sign of breathing, no moisture on the glass.”
“They look frozen,” said Marko.
Paulson stood over the viewing port on the bottom tube and examined the body inside. “It might be some kind of cryonics experiment.”
“Cry-what?” asked Marko.
“Cryonics. The science of placing a body in a deep freeze for months years, even centuries, then reviving them later.” Paulson touched the smooth surface of the tube. “I’ve invested in several companies experimenting with cryonics. The problem we can’t overcome is repairing the damage to human cells and organs after they’ve been frozen at liquid nitrogen temperatures.”
“What happens when the cells freeze?” asked Marko.
“They suffer irreparable damage.”
Marko shivered and took a step back. “What is that tube running into their leg?”
“Don’t know,” Paulson replied, “could be a way to circulate the cryonics fluids throughout the body during the freezing process — and maybe other chemicals that are necessary during the reanimation process.”
“Then it’s a laboratory,” Leah said. “What if these people have been frozen for 800 years or more?”
“Hey, now,” said Jack. “This is modern technology.”
“More than modern, wouldn’t you say? Think about it,” she said. “This is the answer we’ve been searching for; why these people hid in caves and cliffs. They had to hide. From this.”
“You’re not suggesting this place is the result of an extraterrestrial ‘snatch and grab’ program some 800 years ago, are you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” She gestured around them. “All the evidence fits. We’ve got granite crystals from this site, a damn-near perfect pictograph of Thor’s Hammer, and a bunch of frozen Native Americans.”
“Why the hell would someone travel all the way here,” Paulson said, “and build a lab in the most inhospitable place on the planet?”
Leah shrugged. “It’s one way to conduct science in a sterile or controlled environment. That’s first rule of scientific research. Antarctica is cold, so cold it’s sterile. Whatever you experiment on, it can’t be affected by something in the local environment.”