Beneath Still Waters (Rogue Angel, Book 55)
Alex Archer, Joe Nassise
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A wrecked German bomber...key to the secrets of the Third Reich?
All it took was one phone call and TV show host and archaeologist Annja Creed is in mortal danger. Her producer Doug Morrell has been abducted by a greedy treasure hunter who's seeking the lost raubgold, or looted gold of Nazi Germany. The terms are simple: retrieve the bounty and Doug lives. Fail, and he dies...
Now Annja and her friends must find a missing German fighter plane that was shot down over the Alps in 1945. According to legend, the aircraft not only holds a shipment of gold the Nazis had stolen, but also carried the last letters of the führer himself. Letters that point to a more startling treasure buried underwater halfway around the world. But Annja isn't interested in treasure, or even unearthing historic relics. Annja has one agenda: get Doug out alive...even if it means drawing her sword from its otherworldly sheath. Even if it means death.
Because once greed drives a man to violence, nothing will stop him...
own free will. “Why don’t you just tell me now, and I’ll grab the package later?” It was the wrong thing to do. There was silence on the end of the phone for a moment, followed by a shriek of pain that seemed to go on forever. “Hello? Hello? Are you there? What are you doing to him?” she cried. The voice returned. “When I give an order, I expect it to be carried out without negotiation or discussion. Each time that doesn’t happen, Mr. Morrell will pay the price for your obstinacy. Is that
sharply cut suit and dark sunglasses. He scanned the small crowd assembled on the other side of the lawn before his gaze settled on Annja and her companion. He gestured them forward without hesitation. Annja crossed the lawn and climbed the stairs. “Hello, Griggs,” she said, as she stepped aboard the aircraft. Matthew Griggs, head of DragonTech Security and Garin Bradin’s right-hand man, nodded to her. “Miss Creed,” he said, with that lilting British Caribbean accent of his. “Please make
trounced her. Eventually she gave up her seat to Garin, allowing Paul to have a bit of a challenge, and she sat staring at the wall, wondering if she was doing the right thing. By the time Reinhold stuck his head in the doorway and announced they might have something, she was about ready to crawl out of her skin. She jumped to her feet and followed the German scientist back to the control room, Garin and Paul at her heels. At a word from Reinhold, the image from the drone’s forward camera that
offended you and for that I apologize. It will not happen again, I promise you. As chance would have it, I do know something of this code. May I share that with you?” Annja looked on as Garin played the man like a fiddle, appearing to be thinking about it a second time and then agreeing in the interests of maintaining their relationship. “If I’m not mistaken, and I don’t believe that I am, what you have here is a fragment of a message using one of the Innenkreis codes.” Paul spoke up for the
incomplete sample. While it would appear to make use of both Norse runes and Enochian script, the resulting translation is utter gibberish. It doesn’t actually say anything.” “So how would a larger sample help?” Paul wanted to know. “It would tell us if there was a third language mixed in with the others, for one.” “That seems rather complicated, doesn’t it?” Stuggart laughed. “Maybe for you, but the Führer was a genius.” A genius? No, Annja thought. A megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur