Ice Reich Read Online Free PDF Page B

iron-hard, black and judging— quite disconcerting, really. The entire effect was strange, and despite his determination not to seem obsequious, Hart felt off balance.
    "So this is our American expert on Antarctica. A fellow flier! I must tell you, Hart, the only pure place is in the air."
    "Yes, Reich Minister," Hart managed. "I share your enthusiasm. The air, and perhaps Antarctica."
    "Ah really?" Göring looked genuinely interested. "And what is so pure about the southern continent?"
    "Well..." Hart thought for a moment. "The ice, of course, is as white as your uniform. No, not just white but... prismatic. The colors are unworldly. And the air is clearer there. You can see to infinity."
    "Ah, infinity." Göring laughed appreciatively. "I think I saw that a few times from my biplane in the war, looking over my shoulder into the barrel of an enemy machine gun. I'm not sure I'd like to see so much infinity again." Hart found himself joining the others in complimentary laughter, a solar system in orbit around its fat white sun. "But then the kind of purity you talk of, Hart— the sublime cleanliness of a place never before trod by man— that, that must be remarkable."
    "It can be inspiring or frightening," Hart said without thinking, instantly feeling he'd betrayed himself.
    "So I understand." Suddenly Göring's softness seemed to stiffen and his eyes bored into the pilot's as if taking Hart's measure. Owen forced himself to stare calmly back. "My pilots, the men I recruit, are not easily frightened."
    "No, they're not, Herr Göring." You Germans were dogged enough to search me out in Alaska and paid to bring me here, he thought. If you don't want me now, then to hell with you.
    The German held his gaze for a moment more and then abruptly smiled. The appraisal was done. "Good! You know, Hart, that's the name of the stag, a name that originally comes from the German word for 'horn'—and so I approve of your ancestry as well! Just like Lindbergh! We Germans are all pioneers of the air. Now come, come, into my library. You must meet your fellow adventurers."

CHAPTER FOUR
    The library was the size of a small hangar, its gold-lettered books ranked as neatly as soldiers. Most looked new and completely unread: this was a room to impress, not to work in. A fire burned here as well. Clustered around a side table were four men and a woman, sipping wine. Their evident leader— the captain, Hart guessed— wore his Prussian aura of command on weathered features, his steel-gray hair close-cropped and his goatee trimmed with precision. Next to him was a tall, blond, Nordic man of about Hart's age who looked like he'd stepped from a Nazi recruiting poster. And a shorter, more officious-looking fellow with a mustache and gold wire-rimmed glasses. The oldest, at least in appearance, was a balding, somewhat cadaverous male with thin lips, yellowed teeth, and long, tobacco-stained fingers. He was smoking a cigarette. The woman Hart studied for a moment longer. She was about Leni Stauffenberg's age but did not pretend to the actress's ostentatious beauty. Her dark red hair was cut just below her shoulders, flipped slightly inward in a simple style, and she wore a modestly cut print dress and low heels. She appeared to wear no makeup and seemed to have no need of it. Her skin was clear and her blue eyes bright and intelligent.
    "Captain Heiden!" Göring greeted the Prussian. "Let me present to you one of our country's representatives in America, Otto Kohl, our American consultant Owen Hart, and of course our own beautiful Leni Stauffenberg— even more stunning," and here the Reich Minister grinned like a playboy, "in the flesh than on the screen. Who would have thought it possible?"
    Heiden bowed with Prussian formality and took the actress's gloved hand, kissing it lightly. Then he turned and gave a shorter bow to Hart. "So good of you to agree to accompany us, Mr. Hart," he said. "I'm Konrad Heiden, captain of the Schwabenland , the