“Colonel, the doors are wedged pretty good, but I think if we cut through at the center latch, we can get them to slide open,” a Marine combat engineer said. “If there’s no major blockage on the far side, I mean.”
“Well, Corporal, I think whatever battered the hell out of that door cleared away whatever blockage there might have been,” Everett said, and checked his web gear and the extra ammo he was carrying for his M-16.
“Cut through,” Jack said. He moved out of the way as they brought in one of the cutting torches they had found in McCabe’s warehoused goods.
Collins was joined by Everett as they watched the cutting torch start doing its work on the giant latch holding together the two halves of the steel-plated doors.
“It’s obvious McCabe didn’t make it into the second gallery. With the treasure that was waiting for him over there, you have to wonder why. Do you think maybe he had a little more complete information than we do about what happened here in 1945?”
Collins watched the cutting torch burn through the steel and chanced a look at Everett. His face told Carl everything.
They heard the latch fall through onto the far side of the doors with a loud clang, and then watched as a group of Marines and Polish soldiers started to tug at opposite ends of the double doors. They parted gradually with a loud screech and grumble. The echo from the far side told Jack and the others that they were facing a vast open space. The men tensed as the doorway opened into a dark chamber beyond. At the base of the doors, a large pile of rocks had been pushed out of the way. Sebastian’s assault team was placed strategically to cover the width of the door. Captain Mark-Patton eased Jack out of the way so that his second team had a clear field to cover the German commandos.
“Mr. Everett, you watch your ass,” Jack said, as he turned to a Polish lieutenant. “I want a demo team to place charges above the doorway and I want at least three claymores covering that opening.”
The Polish lieutenant saluted and walked away to get the equipment. Collins was taking no chances in case the German SS had the right idea in the first place.
“Night vision,” Sebastian called out. His remaining six men and Captain Everett lowered night vision goggles over their eyes and then two men at a time entered the darkness beyond the doors.
Jack was champing at the bit as he tensed, waiting for the first signs of trouble. He hated not leading the first team into the second gallery.
“Captain Mark-Patton, take your team in, no night vision.”
“Yes, sir,” Mark-Patton called out as he made his follow-up team ready at the doors. Then, with a silent wave of his hand, the second element moved in.
As Collins watched he felt someone step up to him. He looked over and saw Private Tram standing there. He nodded toward the opening of the second gallery. Jack shook his head negatively.
“No, we’ll wait for the all clear.”
“I believe a commander should be in the lead of his troops at all times,” Tram said. “Meaning no disrespect, of course.”
Jack smiled as he watched the last of the SAS men and Polish soldiers disappear into the blackness of the doorway.
“None taken, Private,” he said. “Believe me, I think the same thing. My military philosophy isn’t that different from your own.”
“Then we shall wait,” Tram said cradling the American-made M-14.
“You know, when this is over, I want that weapon back. You’re too damn good with it.”
Sarah allowed the Green Beret sergeant to ease over the small rise before her. The column of Americans kept silent, not allowing any talking that could lead to a transmission alerting someone unfriendly. As the sergeant peeked over the top of the small ridge only five hundred feet from the crater, he quickly ducked back down and removed the M-39 from his shoulder. He made sure the kinetic energy round was charged and held a hand up to Sarah and the others, indicating they should wait where they were. He crawled back up the small incline and looked over the side once more. He ducked back and waved Sarah up the slope. When she arrived the sergeant slid back down, careful not to snag his white environment suit on a stone. The bulletproof vest on the front and back of his torso made moving that much more difficult. He pointed at his wrist, eying Sarah through the clear visor. He was indicating that she should switch frequencies to suit-to-suit mode. She punched the small LED terminal on her wrist.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“We have seven people down there. They look like they’re just sitting around. I see at least five expended oxygen bottles and hoses for refilling the environmental tanks on their backs. I think they’re ESA, but I can’t be sure.”
“Our briefing said their suits are white and blue.”
“Yes, but maybe the Chinese knew that and changed from red to what the ESA was wearing?”
Sarah bit her lower lip and shook her head inside her helmet. “We have to draw the line somewhere. I mean, that’s too damn devious. The Chinese haven’t done anything yet to warrant that kind of thinking.” Sarah looked at the sergeant. “No, I say we make contact. They may be desperate for help. And we have plenty of air on our sleds.” She looked back down the slope at the four large sleds filled with extra bottles of oxygen.
“You’re the boss,” the sergeant said, nodding.
Sarah eased herself up, switching her COM system to the open frequency used by all nations during spaceflight. She stood momentarily on the top of the ridge and looked down at the seven people below, who seemed to be sitting and resting. She saw two of them move, so they were alive.
“Do you require assistance?” Sarah called from the ridge top.
All seven heads turned at once. They were looking in all directions and a few weapons were raised as most tried to get to their feet.
“Easy, easy. Lieutenant McIntire, U.S. Army. Are you ESA?”
The men below started laughing and patting each other on the backs when they finally spied Sarah and the sergeant looking down on them.
“ Oui. Captain Philippe Jarneux. I have six men and we are very low on O. Are you carrying extra?”
“Yes, we have plenty.” Sarah bounded easily down the slope. Not wanting to fall and embarrass herself in front of the French, she slid part of the way. She was surrounded by the ESA astronauts as her men came over the ridge with the sleds of supplies. She was being pounded on the back by some very grateful ESA men when Mendenhall stepped up to her.
“I see you’ve made some new friends,” he said as he watched Sarah be the hero. Then, before he knew it, he was being pounded on the pack holding his oxygen. “Hey, hey,” he cried, as he was hit so hard he felt his feet lift from the lunar surface. As he watched, the entire U.S. team was being congratulated. The scene was a good one. They had just gained a partner in the exploration of the crater.
Sarah pointed out the four sleds and the containers of oxygen lying on them. Every one of the seven ESA astronauts was down to two hours of O in their tanks.
Sarah stepped away and tried to reach Altair.
“ Altair 1, this is Lewis and Clark, do you copy, over,” she said, as she checked to make sure she was still on the open frequency.
All she heard was static. She was joined once more by Mendenhall, who looked at his own frequency setting and then at Sarah, with worry on his face.
The French air force captain stepped up and listened in as Sarah tried again.
“ Altair 1, this is Lewis and Clark, do you copy, over?” Sarah said, trying to keep any worry out of her voice. Upon exiting the Altair, their communications had been crystal clear. Now there was nothing but static.
“If I didn’t know better, this sounds like the jamming we ran into in Iraq in the first few days of the war,” Green Beret Sergeant Martinez said as he tapped his own radio display on his wrist.