Turbulent Wake (Jason Wake Book 4) Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Matthew Rief

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Ryan Schwarz of The Cover Designer

  Line and Copy Editing by Sarah Flores of Write Down the Line, LLC

  Interior Design and Typesetting by Colleen Sheehan of Ampersand Book Interiors

  Proofreading by Donna Rich, and Nancy Brown of Redline Proofreading

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Also by Matthew Rief

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  Note to Reader

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Matthew Rief

  About the Author

  Also by MATTHEW RIEF

  Florida Keys Adventure Series:

  Featuring Logan Dodge

  Gold in the Keys

  Hunted in the Keys

  Revenge in the Keys

  Betrayed in the Keys

  Redemption in the Keys

  Corruption in the Keys

  Predator in the Keys

  Legend in the Keys

  Abducted in the Keys

  Showdown in the Keys

  Avenged in the Keys

  Broken in the Keys

  Payback in the Keys

  Condemned in the Keys

  Jason Wake Novels

  Caribbean Wake

  Surging Wake

  Relentless Wake

  Turbulent Wake

  Join the Adventure!

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  matthewrief.com

  ONE

  Vatnajökull Ice Cap

  Iceland

  Frigid wind howled across the tundra, gusting flurries of snow as the tracked all-terrain vehicle rumbled to a stop near the narrow mouth of a cave. The driver kept the rig idling and shone the high beams toward the dark, unwelcoming opening in the rock and ice. A man in a red coat appeared from the blackness, and the driver shut off the engine.

  The guy in the passenger seat climbed out, his boots digging deep into a layer of fresh powder as he trudged toward the cave, shielding his face from the biting air. “Dr. Olafsson?” he said to the man in red as he climbed out of the cave.

  The scientist nodded, then the two huddled alongside the vehicle. He glanced through the windows at the three men still inside the rig, prepping their gear. “I was under the impression there would be more of you,” Olafsson said in an articulate Icelandic accent.

  “The rest of the CDC’s emergency task force are back in Reykjavík, waiting out the storm.” He showed Olafsson his credentials, along with a signed United Nations Security Council emergency joint operation mandate.

  “Welcome to Iceland, Dr. Huxley. You boys bring hazmat suits?”

  Huxley motioned toward a waterproof duffle bag being slid out from the back of the rig by one of his colleagues. “We brought extras. And rations for you and your team.”

  The four members of the CDC task force followed Dr. Olafsson out of the inhospitable cold and into the dark confines of the cave. In an instant, the world turned quiet, with only a soft whimper echoing in from the whitewashed outside.

  Olafsson clicked on a flashlight, revealing a long, narrow passageway fringed with jagged rocks and patches of ice. The Icelandic scientist led them through the narrow, difficult terrain of the cave. While they trekked, Olafsson brought the team up to speed.

  Barely twenty-four hours earlier, a research expedition comprised of archeologists and geologists from the University of Cambridge had been exploring one of the thousands of ice caves in the region. After a series of low-altitude flyovers, scanning the Earth’s surface using state-of-the-art, ground-penetrating radar systems, the team had noted several discrepancies within the ice. One variance was an unusually large concentration of wood and iron above the Earth’s surface. While delving deep into the cave to investigate, the team stumbled upon an astonishing discovery.

  “Not much farther now,” Olafsson said, leading the group up a ladder set against a ten-foot-tall rock face.

  The cave was mesmerizing—the ice glistening and clear and tinted light blue in places. It was perfectly still, an ominous welcoming to what awaited the group.

  Olafsson led the task force through the passageway, then stopped when it opened up at a makeshift tent comprised of thick plastic and a PVC frame that completely blocked the way. Another member of Olafsson’s team met them as they stepped inside, revealing separate partitioned areas for anti-contamination and donning of hazmat gear.

  “No one goes past this point without level A,” Olafsson said, referring to the highest degree of hazardous material protection. “Understood?”

  Huxley nodded as his team went to work, putting on their suits, self-contained breathing apparatuses, chemical-resistant gloves, and safety boots. Olafsson did a full inspection and gave an additional last-minute brief. Once ready, he led the task force out the other side of the anti-contamination structure, revealing a steady rise and a chamber of ice. They were over two hundred feet beneath the glacier’s surface. Up ahead, the sound of rushing water echoed up from the bottom of a steep chasm.

  Cresting the rise, the team gazed upon the site for the first time.

  Huxley froze in place, awestruck by the massive wooden ship lodged into the rock and ice. Half of the Viking longboat was visible, the rest covered by the glacier. A cluster of scientists were already on scene, examining and snapping pictures of the wreck. Near the port gunwale was the partially frozen corpse of a red-bearded Viking dressed in a brown wool tunic, a green cloak, and a short axe clutched in his hands, the seven-hundred-year-old man’s body preserved perfectly in the ice.

  Olafsson eyed the newly arrived group. “Well?”

  “Pictures don’t do it justice,” Huxley said. He focused on t
he Viking corpse. “This it?”

  “From what we can tell, yes. This is the only body exposed and the only one that the archaeologists touched.” The Icelandic scientist turned away, then added, “Did you go to the hospital?”

  Huxley nodded. “Briefly.”

  Olafsson fell silent a moment, then said, “It’s been less than a day since this wreck was discovered. Now each and every member of the eight-person team who found it are deceased.” He hovered over the dead Viking. Upon closer examination, Huxley could see boils and blisters in the man’s face around his thick beard. “Whatever virus killed this man hundreds of years ago is still alive and well.”

  Huxley felt his stomach knot-up at the grotesque sight and looked away. “Have you extracted any samples for analysis?”

  “Not yet. All we have are the ones being examined from the victims. But with this being patient zero, we should be able to retrieve substantial levels of this unknown virus. We were waiting for you and your team.” As the newly arrived group closed in on the corpse, Olafsson held up a hand. “Move carefully.” The scientist pointed a gloved finger toward the stern, where damaged portions of the deck exposed kegs of gunpowder. “We don’t want this place to blow.”

  Huxley gave an order to two of his men, and they knelt and opened a plastic hardcase with foam cutouts securing three syringes. One of the men grabbed hold of a syringe and leaned forward while another brought up a scalpel to cut away a section of the fabric covering the dead Viking’s thigh. Given the body’s position, the blood would’ve pooled at the lower part of his body after he died and his heart stopped pumping, gravity taking over.

  “Are you not going to perform a preliminary swab?” Olafsson said.

  Huxley kept his eyes on the corpse. “We have orders to draw these samples as quickly as possible, Doctor. Time is critical in these matters, as you know.”

  Olafsson fell silent as the man carefully cut away part of the trousers, exposing the femoral artery.

  “I’m honored to have you with us, Professor,” Olafsson said. “I’m a fan of your work. Particularly your scientific paper on H1N1 that you presented to the WHO last year.”

  Huxley nodded slightly. “I’m honored to be here. You were saying you believe this corpse to be the only one responsible for the disease spread?”

  “You didn’t present a paper to the WHO on H1N1,” Olafsson said, his tone turning colder than the walls around them. “Or should I say, Dr. Huxley didn’t. That work was completed by myself and my colleagues.”

  The guy claiming to be Dr. Huxley looked up from his men who were drawing the first sample, and he stared at Olafsson through his face shield.

  The Icelandic scientist motioned for a member of his team to join him at his side. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re motive for being here is, but either you leave this site immediately, or we’ll make you leave.” He spoke in Icelandic to his colleague, ordering him to call local authorities and the Icelandic government.

  The man nodded and headed for the containment room.

  “Careful, Doctor,” the man pretending to be Huxley said, his voice turning hard and powerful. “You wouldn’t want to get hurt.”

  Olafsson’s colleague picked up his pace, rushing across the cave as fast as he could in the hazmat suit. Grabbing a jagged stone from the ground, the imposter hurled it into the man’s head, breaking his face shield and knocking him unconscious.

  “Bjorn!” Olafsson said, rushing toward his fallen man.

  The stranger grabbed the scientist by the neck and squeezed, nearly lifting the wiry man off the ground. “The virus is mine, you old fool.” Lunging forward, he shoved Olafsson across the cave and into the side of the longboat.

  Olafsson struck hard and rolled, falling onto his chest. Looking up, he could only watch with a blurry gaze as the imposters finished extracting the samples. Pressing a shaky hand to his bloodied forehead, he tried to ignore the pain. He watched as the mysterious group’s leader stormed over to the containment room, removed a pistol from his bag, and opened fire on the remaining members of the local research team. The rapid succession of shots was punctuated by the grunts and the thuds of bodies collapsing to the ground.

  Anger burned deep within Olafsson’s soul as every member of his team was killed right in front of him. He had no way of knowing who the deceivers really were—who they were working for or what their endgame was. All he knew was that the virus had to be contained at all costs.

  The leader of the group pushed out from the containment room, his pistol clutched in his hand.

  Olafsson looked up at the roof of the cave. The gunshots had disturbed the melting ice and made the walls shift unsteadily. Peering right, he spotted the stern of the shipwreck and the partially broken deck that revealed the stacks of powder kegs below. Scrunching up the sleeve of his suit and bending his elbow as far as it could go, he forced his arm back and slithered his hand toward his pants pocket.

  “The samples are secure, sir,” one of the men said as he sealed and stowed the syringes into the hardcase.

  “Very good,” the leader fired back. “This job is proving far easier than anticipated.” He noticed movement to his right and smiled sinisterly as he closed in on Olafsson. The scientist was struggling on his chest, crawling slowly over the old wooden planks. “It’s too late to make a run for it, Doctor. Not that you’d get far anyway.” The murderer laughed as he stood over the Icelander, aiming his pistol at the back of his suit. “No, you’re going to join the rest of your team, I’m afraid. And you’ll all be down here forever. Any last words, Doctor?”

  “No . . .” Olafsson pushed his fist through the zipper and extended it out in front of him, opening his hand and revealing a silver Zippo. “We’ll be down here forever.”

  The killer’s eyes bulged, and he pulled the trigger, firing two rounds into Olafsson’s back.

  The moment the lead struck his flesh, Olafsson flicked his fingers and produced a flame, the lighter falling from his hand and contacting an exposed pile of black dust. The powder ignited in an earsplitting boom, blasting Olafsson and the four attackers away and sending debris from the shipwreck flying in all directions. The explosion shook the cavern with such ferocity that the roof gave way, ice and rock pummeling down and covering the scene.

  TWO

  Southern Vatnajökull, Iceland

  12 Hours Later

  Jason Wake knelt at the bow of the rigid hull inflatable boat, the early morning air whipping against his face as the craft weaved up the narrow waterway. He focused his gaze forward, surveying the enthralling, untouched, rugged landscape. Stretching for six miles, the flat-bottomed Morsárdalur valley was flanked by steep, rocky banks. Up ahead, the towering and seemingly never-ending Vatnajökull glacier shone in brilliant white.

  Alejandra Fuentes manned the helm and piloted them up the narrow, fast-flowing Morsa River. The tall, athletic Latina wore extra layers of cold-weather gear, including a thick coat and face covering. “Looks like another two miles, Jase,” Alejandra said, eyeing a state-of-the-art GPS mounted to the dashboard.

  Jason acknowledged her, then held on as the former Venezuelan government agent piloted them up the rough waterway. Roaring the engine, she accelerated them over a shallow patch of smooth stones, then cut hard into a deeper stretch.

  Jason shifted and scanned the magical, untamed world around him once more, gasping in awe as he did a 360 take of the landscape—the melting pot of rich greens coated in white, mountains reaching high into the impossibly fresh sky, and the ancient, unbelievable quietness of it all. Rays of morning sunlight beamed against the ice, creating a symphony of sparkling colors that demanded attention and reverence.

  Overwhelmed by the untamed region, Jason found it hard to believe that just eight hours earlier, he’d been spearfishing in the crystalline waters off a tropical paradise in the British Virgin Islands. He’d spent six days on Anega
da, reviving and relaxing after a doozy of an escapade that had nearly claimed his life. But the perfect beaches, succulent seafood, and warm weather couldn’t last forever. After receiving an urgent request following an incident of suspected terrorism in the land of fire and ice, Jason and other members of their covert organization had hopped aboard their team’s private jet and headed north.

  After covering nearly four thousand miles of open Atlantic, Jason and Alejandra had airdropped into the sea with the RHIB near the southern black-sand coast. After setting up the craft and their gear, they motored up a clear winding river that cut through the lowland region. Fifteen miles inland, they passed the majestic Svartifoss waterfall far off in the distance and reached the base of the national park. It’d been another two miles to reach the valley. With no roads for miles, and with the surrounding landscape far too steep to land a helicopter, an airdrop and a boat trip had been their best option to reach their remote destination expeditiously.

  “How on earth did a Viking ship make it all the way up under that glacier?” Alejandra said, asking the question so many had wondered about since the wreck was discovered.

  Jason shrugged. There was no way of knowing how it’d gotten there, but he was far more concerned with what had been carried aboard. He’d spent the flight over reading briefs and statements, learning about how the eight archeologists who discovered the wreck all died within twenty-four hours of finding it. And how a group of terrorists had somehow managed to impersonate members of a CDC joint task force and attack the local scientists securing the scene. Then, a massive cave-in blocked off the entrance, forcing the world’s leaders to scramble for a new means of reaching the wreck—an alternate route under the glacier.

  That was where Jason and Alejandra came in.

  “I don’t get how people can live here,” Alejandra said through chattering teeth. She exhaled dramatically, her breath steaming as it met the sixty-fifth northern parallel air. Even in the summer months, temperatures rarely rose above the low fifties. Not bone-chilling, but a far cry from the tropical climates Alejandra was used to.

  “Coats, and a lot of time indoors,” Jason replied. He gawked at their surroundings once more, then let out a short sigh. “You can’t say it isn’t spectacular, though. I can see the appeal.”