"Then what happened?"

"My crew and I were detained until British and American intelligence agents arrived and interrogated us. We were questioned for six solid weeks before we were finally released and allowed to return home."

"You and the crew, I assume, told Allied intelligence nothing."

Hozafel smiled. "We had three weeks during the voyage from Antarctica to Argentina to rehearse our stories. They were a bit melodramatic perhaps, but none of us broke and the interrogation teams learned nothing. They were highly skeptical. But who could blame them? A German naval vessel vanishes for four months and then turns up, its commander claiming that he believed that any radio contact stating that Germany had surrendered was an Allied scheme to make him reveal his position? Not a plausible story, but one they could not break." He paused and stared at the dying fire. "The U-699 was then turned over to the United States Navy and towed to their base at Norfolk, Virginia, where it was dismantled down to the last bolt and then scrapped."

"And the U-2015?" Sandecker probed.

"I don't know. I never heard what happened to her and never saw Harger again."

"You might be interested in knowing," said Sandecker, pleased, "that the U-2015 was sunk only a few days ago by a U.S. nuclear sub in the Antarctic."

Hozafel's eyes narrowed. "I've heard stories of German U-boat activity in the southern polar seas long after the war, but found no substance to them."

"Because many of the highly advanced XXI and XXII class of U-boats are still listed as missing," said Little. "We strongly suspect that a fleet of them was preserved by Nazi leadership for smuggling purposes during the years since the war."

"I would have to admit you're probably correct."

Sandecker was about to speak when the phone rang again. He engaged the speaker, almost afraid of what he might hear. "Yes?"

"Just to confirm," came Pitt's voice. "The pizza is on your doorstep and the delivery boy is on his way back to the store through heavy rush-hour traffic."

"Thank you for calling," said Sandecker. There was no sense of relief in his voice.

"I hope you call again when you get the urge for pizza."

"I prefer calzone." Sandecker closed the connection. "Well," he said wearily, "they reached the aircraft and are in the air."

"Then they're home free," said Little, suddenly buoyant.

Sandecker shook his head dejectedly. "When Dirk mentioned rush-hour traffic, he meant they were under attack by security force aircraft. I fear they have escaped the sharks only to encounter the barracuda."

Under its automatic guidance system, the Moller Skycar ascended into the night and skimmed across the black waters of the fjord, slowly increasing its altitude as it swept over the glacier flowing down from the mountains. If anyone on board thought that once they reached the Skycar, they had lifted off for a peaceful flight back to the NUMA ship waiting off Punta Entrada, they were sadly mistaken.

Not one but four helicopter gunships rose from the deck of the Ulrich Wolf and set a course to intercept the Skycar. One should have been enough, but the Wolfs sent out their entire fleet of security aircraft to stop the fleeing fugitives. There were no fancy formations, no tentative skirmishing- they came on abreast in a well-calculated deployment to cut off the Skycar before it could reach the sanctuary of the mountains.

Purchased by Destiny Enterprises from the Messerschmitt-Bolkow Corporation, the Bo 105LS-7 helicopter was designed and built for the Federal German Army primarily for ground support and paramilitary use. The aircraft chasing the Skycar carried a crew of two, and mounted twin engines that gave it a maximum speed of two hundred and eighty miles an hour. For firepower, it relied on a ventral-mounted, swiveling twenty-millimeter cannon.

Giordino sat in the pilot's seat this trip, with Pitt monitoring the instruments, while the women huddled in the cramped rear passenger seat. In a repeat performance of the incoming flight, there was little for Giordino to do but alter the throttle settings to maximum speed. Every other manipulation was computer-controlled and operated. Next to him, Pitt was studying the pursuing helicopters on the radar screen.

"Why, oh why, can't those big bullies leave us alone?" Giordino moaned.

"Looks like they sent the entire gang," said Pitt, eyeing the blips on the outer edge of the screen, which were closing in on the outline of the Skycar in the center as if it were a magnetic bull's-eye.

"If they have heat-seeking missiles that fly in and through canyons," said Giordino, "they may prove a nuisance."

"I don't think so. Civilian aircraft are rarely capable of carrying military missiles."

"Can we lose them in the mountains?"

"It will be a near thing," Pitt answered. "Their only hope is to take their best shot from half a mile before we're out of range. After that, we can outrun them. Their speed looks to be about thirty miles slower than ours."

Giordino peered through the canopy. "We're coming off the glacier and entering the mountains. Twisting through the canyons should make it awkward for them to get off a clean shot."

"Shouldn't you be concentrating on flying this thing?" said Pat, staring uneasily at the mountains silhouetted in the faint moonlight that were beginning to rise up on both sides of the Skycar. "Rather than chatting among yourselves?"

"How are you two getting on back there?" Pitt asked solicitously.

"This is like riding a roller coaster," said Megan excitedly.

Pat was more aware of the danger and not as enthusiastic as her daughter. "I think I'll keep my eyes closed, thank you."

"We'll be thrown around by turbulence, and the sudden shifts of direction through the mountains, because we'll be running at maximum speed," explained Pitt. "But not to worry. The computer is flying the aircraft."

"How comforting," Pat muttered uneasily.

"The bad guys are coming over the summit at nine o'clock," announced Giordino, warily staring at the glaring lights beamed by the helicopters that lit up the jagged mountain slopes.

The pilots of the assault helicopters played a smart game. They made no attempt to chase the faster Skycar through the hooks and crooks among the ravines that split the mountains. They realized they had one opportunity, and only one, to shoot down the strange-looking aircraft. They gained altitude as one and fired down into the ravine, their twenty-millimeter shells blasting through the dark in trajectories ahead of the Skycar.

Pitt instantly realized the tactic and elbowed Giordino's arm. "Take manual control!" he snapped. "Stop us in midair and back up!"

Giordino obeyed and completed the maneuver almost before the words were out of Pitt's mouth. He switched off the computer control and took command, bringing the Skycar to a gut-wrenching halt that threw them against their safety harnesses, then sending the aircraft back down the ravine in reverse.

"If we attempt to fly through that barrage," said Pitt, "we'll be shot t shreds."

"It's only a matter of seconds before they reposition and aim this way.

"That's the idea. I'm banking on them turning and deflecting their fire behind our path, expecting us to fly into it. But we shoot forward again, forcing them to realign- the same trick we pulled on the patrol boat. If things fall our way, we'll gain enough time to put a mountain between us before they can reconcentrate their fire again."