Deep Sea One (26 page)

"I what?" she prompted, with a look of hope on her pretty face, picking up on his thoughts.

"Nothing. Just stop jumping to conclusions out of desperation. You know it's not true," he said, his eyes on the floor in fear that she might read his mind again.

Purdue returned and punched in the code. The door hissed and sprung open. He switched on the light and the sudden brightness of it jerked Nina and Sam out of their subdued intimacy, smothered by their incessant jousting.

"Sergeant, will you be joining us?" he asked, as Sam and Nina entered the lab.

"No, thank you, sir. It does not really pertain to me. Besides, I am very interested in the enticing experiments conducted in this lab," she replied. "I shall wait here."

Purdue smiled to himself. He knew what she was staring at and understood unrequited attention better than anyone.

"Very well," he said, with his open hands stroking the sides of his jacket and went inside.

Nina was impressed by all the space and the high-end computers. There were analyzing instruments, gloves, magnifiers linked to two of the computers and several books on the history of the artifact already placed on the bookshelf. Among all the items she was not going to utilize she noticed old transistor radios and frequency devices, telegraph machines and strangely fashioned sundials in unusual metals.

"This place is so steampunk, Sam," she remarked on her observations. Sam smiled and nodded in agreement. It certainly was. The merging of technology and antiquated industrial machinery, clock wheels and cogs, tarnished metal forged roughly for scientific inventions certainly was interesting and it gave the laboratory a wondrous old-world feel, unlike the cold white medical sting of the other labs.

"So, what do you think, Dr. Gould?" Purdue said, keeping his tone void of any hopeful beckoning for her approval. He wanted to sound indifferent to her decision.

"Obviously I would be here with her, right, Mr. Purdue? After all, I would have to make notes on her discoveries and the historical facts for the piece I'm writing. It is best if I am here as she goes on," Sam added. He had hoped Nina would catch on to his intentions and decide to stay.

"Of course," Purdue said in his trademark cheer, grateful for Sam's backup in persuading the delectable Dr. Gould to stay. "You two would be combining your expertise in this project to tell me all about what we have here and to document every step."

Nina stood in contemplation. The two men waited in anticipation. What she never considered was the measure of peril she would have to concern herself with, knowing what she knew about Purdue's secret station and the unsavory, immoral tests conducted within. It never crossed her mind that leaving to the mainland was not an option, but Purdue had hoped her reluctance would not ignite such unpleasantness.

Calisto sauntered down the corridor in front of Nina's window. The sight of her competition for Sam's affection shifted her decision instantaneously. If she left, she would not only be excluded from all credit due the contributors of this expedition, she would, no doubt, be excluded from Sam's life. Calisto was nothing like her, but in her own tough way she was very appealing to any man and she would have no trouble in seducing the wayward boyish journalist.

"I'll stay," she smiled suddenly, to the delight of both men.

"Fantastic!" Purdue exclaimed, and locked his hands together in elation. He was relieved that the looming threat of silencing Nina was eradicated before it had to be addressed and he nodded to Calisto to notify her that she could stand down now. The three carried on talking inside the lab, discussing the schedule of the inspection and the workings of the software he had created to assist her in her analysis of the relic. The bodyguard took the opportunity to return to the window of the other laboratory. Two scientists were busy examining Johann's eyes, unaware of the woman watching them. Quickly she took a chair and placed it under the peephole of one of the cells. Peeking through it, she could see another man inside, sleeping. He was remarkably tall and his hair was blond. She found it peculiar that he looked so much like Johann. Hastening, she climbed down, checked for any movement and placed the chair under the window of the next cell. Inside was a young girl, aged about nine years, sitting on her bed. She was reading a book on ethnicity. On her bed lay strewn literature on civilizations of ancient Nordic origin and occult roots of the Third Reich. A textbook on physics lay open at her feet, implying her level of intellect at such a tender age.

Calisto swallowed hard. She could not believe what she beheld in front of her. Keeping her presence hidden she whispered to herself, "My God! They did it! They actually managed the absurd." Her entire body trembled as she watched the young girl look up at her with pristine blue eyes filled with an old wisdom. "Jesus! They are creating a new Aryan race!"

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Chapter 33

Eickhart planted a slug just off the center of the target. The corner of his mouth curled to one side, impressed that his recent life-changing condition did not much influence his aim. The rifle kicked harder than before though, now that he had no solid stance to steady him and his shoulder ached from the repeated impact of the butt.

Behind him Dieter entered with the stranger he was expecting. Patrick did not merit a look, but the old man spoke while his rifle was reloaded for him.

"Herr Braun, it is wonderful to see you here. I trust your accommodation is in order?" he asked with great authority, but as Patrick replied, the old man pulled the trigger, shattering the silence with barrel thunder.

"It is perfect, thank you," Patrick repeated.

"I trust you will be joining us for a bite?" Eickhart said, as he laid his sight straight ahead of the rifle, but this time Patrick waited for the clap before speaking. They exchanged the obligatory pleasantries before the boss gave the order for his staff to pack up. On their way back up the pathway there was an uncomfortable silence.

"Herr Braun, I would like for us to start today, if you do not mind. This project is urgent and quite rushed, considering the usual time frame of such endeavors," he said, with a deceptive patience ringing in his voice.

"I had a look at your specifications, Herr Eickhart, and I must say, I am just a bit curious. Why the rush?" Patrick asked in his most cordial tone.

Eickhart stopped his wheelchair. He did not turn his head to face the insolent idiot who dared question him. Dieter and Patrick exchanged glances and immediately the spy knew that he made a grave mistake. Dieter cringed somewhat, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

"I mean," Patrick continued, with no small measure of confidence, "this kind of structure rushed could have catastrophic results and I will not allow that."

Silence persisted among them at the architect's blatant statement. Now Eickhart turned to face him.

"Excuse me?"

"I reiterate—I will not allow any unnecessary hazards on this project in favor of rushing, Herr Eickhart. I have built bunkers before. Yes, I am aware that you are building a bunker, although an extravagant one. I am no fool. But in my business I do not only design and supervise the construction of secret compounds, I also assure the safety of my clients, which is of much more value to me than your money. So if you think me brash for stalling to make sure the structure is impervious to God himself, I am happy to bow out," Patrick rambled in his best authoritarian voice, while inside he shuddered, disbelieving his own words as they came.

"Well, I can't argue with that, now can I?" the old man said with a hiccup of amusement in his response, and without further conversation they continued on to the house.

After a luncheon of good food, rich wine and light conversation among Eickhart, his wife Greta and Patrick, the two men retired to the site of the construction excavated and ready for building.

"I wanted to show you this myself. I need this chamber to be as big as an average dance hall. I need the measurements just as I posted them, for optimal acoustic value. You will not deviate from my measurements, no matter what," the old man narrowed his eyes at Patrick and for the first time DCI Smith could discern the wicked recklessness in the old war criminal. Now he resembled his reputation in all its malevolent glory and Patrick felt his blood turn to ice.

"Absolutely. You have my word," Patrick replied, his face stoned and his eyes resolute. He needed to know more. Why were the acoustics important? Why a bunker? Why the rush? All that nudged at him.

"I need to know that I can trust you, Herr Braun. Your company has done work for me before, so I know what to expect from them, but since the head architect's untimely passing I am left uncertain of who would take his place, you see?" the boss drawled while tapping his wrinkled elongated fingers on the armrest of his motorized chair.

"I don't in any way claim to have pristine values, Herr Eickhart, nor do I perpetuate an ersatz front. I do not believe in bullshit, if I might be so crass," Patrick felt that subdued villain emerge from his hidden mind once more, ready to play the part. "I don't care if you build a church for your daughter's wedding or a cathedral for heretic practices, but I want to know what I am erecting and why. That way I know what enhancements to employ. After all, I know the science and the art better than my clients. If they entrust me with their desires, I can make their most twisted needs materialize." He bent down to take a sample of the soil without waiting for a reply.

"I don't believe in bullshit either, my friend," Eickhart said, "which is precisely why your predecessor left you this cushy position to fill. Need I say more?"

Patrick felt that strange coldness again at the old man's admission. Of course he had to do away with his previous architect. The secrets held here in Katzwang were of global-scale catastrophe and historical impact. These were things that had to be kept very covert or the slightest miscalculation could result in World War III. He played it slowly from there, keeping strictly to the details of the construction.

Gradually he realized that the so-called bunker was not to protect, but to contain.

"I will soon be coming in possession of an ancient artifact that needs to be kept in the confines of a certain frequency. If not, it can be quite destructive and that would defy the purpose, wouldn't it?" Eickhart boasted.

"Ooh, Egyptian, perhaps? I have an affinity for those," Patrick fished, just like he used to when he played along with perps, only to have them get comfortable. That was when they would give up their secrets and talk themselves into arrest.

"No, no! That is lavish, but utterly useless I have to say. No, this is something of pertinent importance, a relic viewed as . . ." the old man searched his mind for the correct term, ". . . holy."

Keep going,
thought Patrick. He dismissed the old man's statement as fanciful. Nothing was really holy as it was believed in biblical days, he insisted, and watched the old man's temperature rise in frustration at his architect's disregard for the mighty artifacts he was capable of attaining.

"Oh, no, this one is capable of great power! It was said that it could wield terrible force so great that the oceans obeyed, that it could perform miracle or devastation at the hand of its wielder," the old man shouted, adamant to convince Patrick of his sincerity.

"It was said by whom, Herr Eickhart? These clandestine merchants will tell you anything to smear off a cheap knock-off on you for exuberant amounts of money," Patrick said nonchalantly, as he pretended to survey the area. The boss tried to maintain his cool, but this ignorant fool tested him beyond measure and he finally felt that he had to put the young man right in his place.

"Have you ever heard of the Spear of Destiny, Herr Braun?" the old man asked categorically.

Patrick froze for a second. To the old man it looked like shocked silence at realizing what league he was in, but to Patrick it was confusion. He was here to uncover the pending trade of biological weapons and viral terrorist acts in the pipeline. He was here to detect the mole that Eickhart had sent to procure these strains, the location of the culprit and when they would rendezvous. He was not here about relics and grave robbery.

Perplexed, he stood for a moment, and then decided to play it all by ear and hope that the old man would reveal more about his mission soon.

"I have read about it somewhere, I think. Some biblical rubbish they claimed was a treasure?" Patrick said, deliberately playing dumb. This time Eickhart saw his ignorance as a relief. At least with his completely oblivious mindset toward these things, he would be no threat when designing a chamber for the artifact. To him it was nonsense, a welcome demeanor in Eickhart's opinion. This architect would not have to be silenced, because he did not believe.

"Yes, some relic from the time of the Bible, son. And whether you believe its powers or not, I am going to own it," Eickhart said calmly.

"And I will make sure you have a perfect chamber to keep it in, sir," Patrick smiled for the first time, reading the old man's gaining trust in their mutual disclosure.

"Good. Good. Do you have everything you need?" he asked Patrick, who found the irony amusing.

"Yes, for now," he smiled and nodded, placing his faux samples in his case.

He had to somehow find a reason to get into Eickhart's study or to bug his office to find out more about the plans. Whatever he had to do, had to be done within the next few days. The SIS could pull him at any moment and he had better have something to offer. Unfortunately, what Patrick Smith neglected to remember, was that rushing the construction of dangerous things could result in catastrophe. This very sentiment was used by him to sway the opinion of Walter Eickhart, but he forgot that it pertained to the delicate weaving of an undetectable and potent snare to obtain vital information. A lesson he did not want to learn in the house of Eickhart.

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Chapter 34