“Now dive to fifty feet and put us in a slow, steep ascent. Allow the lasers to open a hole in the ice directly above us. The moment you see the night sky, cut your engines and the Manta will float topside.”

I followed his instructions, opening a gap in the ice large enough to accommodate the sub. We surfaced, bobbing beneath a star-filled sky awash with a pink swoosh of southern light. A quarter mile to the west, we could see the surface ship’s stern lights, our night-vision binoculars revealing an A-frame towering above her aft deck, a Canadian registry, and the name Tortuga written across her backside.

Mac searched the ship’s name on the McFarland’s computer, finding three dozen matches but only one vessel her size flying a Canadian flag. “She was built by the U.S. Navy, decommissioned in 2002, then purchased and refitted by a private Toronto firm owned by a subsidiary of the Bank of Liechtenstein.”

I turned to Jonas. “The bank’s a private institution, a tax haven for billionaires. I realize this will sound like more conspiracy theory, but hundreds of billions of dollars have passed through the Bank of Liechtenstein to fund MJ-12 projects. I think we’d better submerge. There’s a GeoEye-1 satellite over Antarctica, equipped with an imaging payload that can locate any surface object on the planet.”

I descended the Manta to ninety feet and leveled off just above the sea floor.

A blip appeared on sonar as we headed for the Tortuga’s keel.

Jonas donned headphones. “Lots of noise up ahead. Sounds like it’s coming from the ice shelf. Come to course two-seven-seven, we’ll take a look.”

With the early arrival of its support ship, the Tethys had launched fourteen hours ahead of schedule. Jonas and I arrived at the Amery Ice Shelf moments before the tail section of the thirty-seven-foot submarine disappeared from view, following its laser-spewing bow on a thirty-degree down angle into the base of the Loose Tooth Rift and a newly formed underwater cavern.

Jonas stared at the hole, dumbfounded. “That was impressive. You say Skunkworks built that beast?”

“With your tax dollars.” Banking the Manta into an awkward turn, I raced east toward open water.

“Zach, where are you going?”

“Back to the McFarland. I need to pick up Angus, load the Manta with supplies, and get through that passage before the Tethys gets too far ahead of us.”

“It’s a suicide mission. You’d be lucky to make it a mile before getting lost down there.”

“I’m not just going to let my son die.”

“Agreed. But how will getting you to Vostok save your son? Explain that part to me, and I’ll take you there myself.”

A text message flashed on both our monitors: MOVE!

My eyes darted to the sonar where dozens of blips were converging upon us. “Jesus, what is that?”