Beneath Still Waters (Rogue Angel, Book 55)
Alex Archer, Joe Nassise
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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...
wits about her and be sure she didn’t linger too long down at the wreck. Garin and Reinhold went out to check on the setup of the guide wire she would be using for the dive, so Annja took advantage of the opportunity to strip down to her undergarments and begin pulling on her gear. She started with a polypropolene sheath that fit her like a glove and that was designed to wick away her body moisture while retaining her body heat. Over that she pulled on a layer of insulation made of Thinsulate, a
smack in the middle of the Indian Ocean, and there wasn’t anywhere within four hundred miles that could even remotely be called Christmas. They turned their attention to South Africa next. That Phoenix was an Indian settlement that officially became a township in 1976. Prior to that it had been associated with the Phoenix Settlement in nearby Durban, founded by Mohandas Ghandi in 1904 and used by him as a base for his nonviolent protests on behalf of Muslim Indians in South Africa. “Ghandi and
night. Annja switched on the electric windlass, dropping the anchor to secure the boat, while Garin shut down the engines. Satisfied that they’d done what they could for the night, they retired to their cabins to get some sleep. Chapter 23 When Annja got up the next morning, she found Garin and Paul sitting at the galley table enjoying a breakfast of fresh fruit and coffee. Annja grabbed a cup of her own and slid in next to Paul. “Are you doing all right?” she asked. “Yeah, I’m
surface. Just looking at the thing she had a hundred more questions, and she hoped that they’d find some answers once they got aboard. Garin brought the dinghy alongside the dock on the side opposite the U-boat. Paul hopped out, testing the strength of the pier. When it seemed that the wood was solid enough to bear their weight, Paul grabbed the mooring line from Annja and tied the boat to one of the pier’s support poles. Once it was secure, Garin helped Annja onto the dock, passed the duffel
tossed it straight up into the air, the sun glinting off the plain, unadorned hilt. As the blade went up, Annja went down, dropping below the slash of Paul’s sword, falling backward in a limbo-like maneuver to give room for the blade to pass by. As Paul’s eye went up, watching her sword, the follow-up to his own strike forgotten in that instant, Annja caused the sword to vanish into the otherwhere. In the space of the next heartbeat, she caused it to reappear in her hand, the hand that was