Objekt 221 by Steve Metcalf

Author:Steve Metcalf [Metcalf, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2019-06-18T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The Mountain

BUILT ON the strength of back-breaking slave labor, some of the Third Reich’s most impressive military works have a dark history—haunted by the ghosts of hundreds of thousands of unwilling participants. As the tide of the war began to turn in 1943, the Nazi regime decided to centralize most of their operations. Their master plan: Project Riese. The Giant.

The Owl Mountains are one of Poland’s oldest ranges, stretching along the Czech border. As a largely inaccessible terrain with a dense spruce forest, it’s no wonder the German army identified the region as a potential stronghold. Project Riese would be a massive undertaking—an underground complex carved right into the side of the mountain.

Ten of the tunnel complexes have been excavated, but only a portion have truly been explored. Only a small percentage of the underground facilities were completed to any degree with very few meters reinforced with concrete and steel support beams.

The 11th facility was located nearly five miles away—connected to the complex by a rail line—and doesn’t appear on any surveys. Complex Ksiaz was the first started and last abandoned. That section of land was quietly purchased in the late 1980s by a private consortium. While remaining under the control of a single entity for decades, work was slowly completed. In 2010, the ribbon-cutting ceremony on the Allied Genetics facility—known internally as Rainier Mesa—was quietly held nearly a quarter of a mile underground.

* *

As the combined Wraith assault teams made their final gear checks in their big Chinook transport copter, the two commanders engaged in some friendly banter.

“So, we’ll be Team Alpha and you’ll be Team Bravo,” Alex Scott said, smiling.

“No dice, Beef,” replied Rick “Ahab” Everson, hefting an eyebrow.

The two men were of similar age and experience level, but they couldn’t be more different physically. Scott was slim and wiry. He had blond hair and fair features. He grew up in Texas, but was mentally a California boy—embracing the surfer culture. Ahab Everson was a bruiser. A battering ram. A human tank. Standing nearly 6’5” and tipping the scales at 280, his fatigues had to be custom fit. Dark hair, a dark beard, and scars up and down the knotted muscles of his arms.

“Okay,” Beef decided to try again. “We’ll be Team Gold and you’ll be Team Silver.”

Many of the men in the hold of the Boeing helicopter were on the common team communication line. They were laughing.

“If you are Gold, then my team is Titanium,” Ahab countered.

“Hmm,” Alex said. “Won’t work. Too many syllables. It might confuse the radio operator. One, Two? Legends, Leaders? Upper, Lower? Just spitballin’ here.”

Ahab laughed and clapped Beef on the shoulder blade. His hand nearly covered a quarter of the man’s back.

“Everything you suggest implies a primary and secondary function. A number one team and a support. You have to change your mindset, Beef.” Ahab squared his shoulders and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants. All 10 men were listening, now, including the pilots. “Pick two of the same thing.

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