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...
Sno-Cat. Annja and Reinhold each tugged on a harness and clipped into the ropes that Garin and Paul had prepared. If they encountered anything unexpected, like a snow-covered crevasse, the ropes would keep them from being dragged to their deaths before anyone had time to react. Annja was well used to such precautions, but it was obvious Reinhold wasn’t as comfortable. He fussed with the harness and double-checked the knot that secured the rope to it half a dozen times until Annja calmed him by
give the crew the destination.” “Tahiti by way of Los Angeles. The faster they can get us there, the better.” “Got it.” Garin pulled out his cell phone and turned away to make the call. “Don’t worry, Annja,” Paul said. “We’ll make it in time.” She just hoped he was right. * * * THEY ARRIVED AT the Munich International Airport an hour later. Their driver took them directly to the hangar where several of Garin’s jets were stored. Boarding the same plane that had taken them from Miami to
the storm changes course, then all bets are off.” We’re running out of time. She turned to Paul. “Any ideas?” He shook his head. “I know next to nothing about sailing and even less about tropical storms, so I’ll go along with whatever the two of you decide.” That was all Annja needed to hear. “We go for it,” she announced. The decision made, they dug in and made preparations for the race to come. Garin handed out life jackets—just to be safe, he said—and they pulled them over their heads
allowing it to slam shut with a bang. Apparently satisfied that he’d taken care of everything that needed to be taken care of, the leader turned on his heel and began walking down the pier in the direction of the jungle, shouting an order over his shoulder as he went. It didn’t take much to figure out what that order had been, for the other tribesmen moved in on the three captives, dragging them to their feet and pushing them in the same direction. Guess they want us to follow him, Annja
quagmire that his mind had become. That was when I conceived my plan to get this woman to help me find it!” When Paul turned and pointed at her, Annja’s world turned sideways and tipped over. She felt as if she was falling from a tremendous height and the fall went on and on and on as he laid the truth of his duplicity bare for all to see. “Annja Creed is perhaps the world’s foremost expert on finding objects and artifacts believed to be lost forever in the sands of time. She was the one person
