EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum (30 page)

McHenry shook his head. “Can’t confirm. We tried to scrape a sample from the backside to send for analysis, but we couldn’t get anything – even with a diamond scribe. In that sense, the two are similar.”

McHenry replaced the cloth and closed the cabinet. “Now for the files,” he said. “Follow me.”

The group walked deeper into the vault. On the far wall was a bank of file drawers, floor to ceiling. McHenry grabbed a file from a small table next to the wall, and handed it to Daniel.

Daniel opened the folder and examined the papers. The first one was written on Red Falcon letterhead, and was in German. It was dated 1948 and signed – Josef Mengele. He wanted to read it immediately, but needed it to be translated. His attention was drawn back to the file drawers. “Which drawer did this one come from?” Daniel asked.

McHenry pointed to it and Daniel slid it open. The first thing that struck him was the depth of the drawer: it rolled out about six feet, and was packed solid with files. He extracted one at random and opened it. This one was also signed by Mengele, dated December 12
th
, 1949. “How can this be?” Daniel asked and handed it to Sylvia.

“There are a lot of other peculiar things in this place,” McHenry explained, “but my feeling is that you were meant to spend most of your time in the rooms I’ve shown you.”

“What other things?” Horace asked.

“This is a self-contained facility,” McHenry said. “There are sleeping quarters, food preparation facilities, a power grid, running water, and a sewer system. And there’s a lot we haven’t gotten to yet.”

“I’d be interested in anything you find in the living quarters,” Daniel said. “If there are books, handwritten materials, or anything out of the ordinary.”

McHenry nodded.

“I’d like to get started in the library,” Daniel said.

“Okay,” McHenry said. “Find your way?”

Daniel nodded. The best way to learn the layout was navigate it himself. Motivation stemming from the fear of getting lost would make him learn quickly.

9

Wednesday, 3 June (12:04 a.m. EST)

The information in the library was unlike anything Daniel had seen before. Each book contained an insert that described its authenticity, including the date acquired and origin. Some had been collected before the war, but most were stolen from places the Nazis had conquered. Nazi SS teams had also obtained tomes from places like Israel, Egypt, the Middle East, and South America. It seemed that the Nazis’
Ahnenerbe
had collected much of the materials, and it suggested that Himmler’s research institute might have been formed with the sole purpose of collecting information to assist with Red Falcon. It was yet another thread in the dark web of Red Falcon that had been concealed for nearly three quarters of a century.

The books filled 12 floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and fell into a few basic categories, the predominant one being ancient languages and symbols. The rest were a mishmash of occult, folklore, and ciphers and code breaking books. He estimated there were between 6,000 and 8,000 volumes in the library and realized his life was too short to read them all.

A much larger, multilingual team, with experts in ancient languages would have been needed for a thorough investigation. Horace and Sylvia had the same impression, and agreed that they should concentrate their efforts on the things on the table, which included 13 bound books, 21 notebooks, and over 30 file folders.

Although reluctant to disturb anything, they finally assembled around the large table and collected and organized the materials. Silvia started with the books, Horace the file folders, and Daniel the notebooks.

The heavy wooden chairs around the table had high backs, forcing them to sit erect. Very Nazi-like, Daniel thought.

He selected a notebook at random and was shocked by what he saw on the very first page. It was a hand sketch of the beacon, with squiggly lines around its bulbous head as if it were transmitting a signal. It must have just been a doodle, as the next pages were filled with symbols and translations, but it proved unequivocally that the people at the base had been aware of the beacon. This one had the name Handel Schluter written in the inside cover. Daniel didn’t recognize the name. He put a sticky-note on the notebook, labeling it as “Number 1,” and wrote a description of it in his own notebook. Later, he’d transfer his handwritten notes to his computer. Although each of them had some knowledge of German, Horace being the strongest in this regard, it was clear they’d need the translators.

The next notebook had belonged to Josef Mengele. His name was written in the inside cover and dated May 10
th
, 1946. If anything, the mystery of Mengele’s disappearance after the war was partially solved. He’d been spotted in Argentina, and other South American countries, but South America had not been his only home.

Mengele’s notes focused mostly on the torture facility. Prisoners restrained inside the cage-like devices had been told to do the impossible: push over an object out of their reach, or read something that was visually obstructed. Each time they failed, something awful would happen – they’d be burned, shocked, or a body part would be amputated. The cages – crude Exoskeletons – had built-in mechanisms that could be cranked with a wrench to break bones.

The worst thing Daniel ever imagined was described in Mengele’s handwriting as his own invention. It was the device that had scared the hell out of them when the main power circuits had been energized. Mengele had called it the
Nascher,
the best English translation being “Nibbler.” It was a cuff-like device that fit around a subject’s appendage, with a circular blade that would pass flush against the opening of a steel cylinder, cutting off whatever protruded. After making a cut, a motor would slide the device up a preset amount and saw off another piece. The Nibbler would slowly eat its victim alive.
The operator would simply set it up in the evening, starting at the tip of the fingers or toes and, when he’d come back in the morning, said appendage would be piled on the floor in neatly cut pieces. In order to stop the victim from bleeding to death, the device compressed the limb, acting like a tourniquet. They’d thought of everything. Daniel shuddered.

Subjects could turn off the Nibbler any time they wished. A large, red “stop button” was on the opposite wall, just 10 feet away. All they had to do was push it, as Daniel had done when the device powered up in the torture room. The problem was that the Nazis’ subjects had to do it while confined to their Exoskeletons. The only way to stop the torture was to
separate
. Only the person’s soul could turn off the horrific machine. According to Mengele, it had happened multiple times, but he’d never directly witnessed it. It had always occurred overnight, and was only repeated by one unnamed subject.

Mengele’s frustration was apparent in his writing. He’d become so irate at one particular subject for not explaining how his device had been turned off that he’d gone into a rage and shot him multiple times, killing him.

The facility had been operated by a team of torture specialists. Mengele had mentioned the individuals by name in his notes, and they had their own notebooks – there were at least four others. He wondered if any of them were still alive.

Daniel looked away from his reading as one of the crew entered the library. “Captain wants you all to come in for the night,” the man said.

Daniel looked at his watch and was surprised to see it was 1:15 a.m.

“He said you all should get some food and rest,” the sailor added.

They’d taken a break for dinner around 6:00 p.m., but the time had flown by since then. Sylvia stretched her arms above her head and yawned. Horace looked exhausted and somewhat peaked.

“I’m ready for both,” Sylvia said as she picked up a book with yellowing papers sticking out of it and stuck it under her arm.

Horace stood and tucked a file folder under his own. He looked a bit better after he straightened himself to his full height.

They went to the
North Dakota’s
mess hall. The odor of the sub’s interior was more obvious after being outside for a while, but the smell of food masked it.

While they ate, they discussed what they’d learned from the day’s work.

“The symbols written on the white stone are a set of instructions,” Sylvia said. “The Nazis had decoded a part of it – but I’ve only located fragments and short phrases, all written in German. We need to bring a translator tomorrow.”

“Were you able to read any of it?” Horace asked.

“The term ‘drum’ had been mentioned several times,” Sylvia said. “But I don’t understand the context.”

“How were they able to decode it?” Daniel asked.

“Some of the symbols were a variation of Egyptian hieroglyphics,” Sylvia explained. “But there were more hieroglyphs – entirely new or modified – than what were known at the time.”

“Strange,” Horace said. “If true, it means whoever translated it had more knowledge than they should have had at the time, or they’d simply made guesses.”

“I doubt they guessed,” Daniel said.

“What have you learned, Daniel?” Horace asked.

Daniel told them about what he’d found in the notebooks.

“It’s consistent with what I’ve been reading,” Horace said. “The files on the table were those of the most promising subjects – those who had demonstrated unusual behavior during their treatments. The Nazis had collected those files for some reason.”

“A planned event?” Daniel speculated.

“Perhaps,” Horace said. “But what?”

Daniel shook his head. “It seems they vacated on short notice.”

They finished eating and then went to their respective quarters. Daniel wondered if he’d be able to sleep and, if he did, what nightmares would torment him through the night.

10

Wednesday, 3 June (1:42 a.m. CST – Baton Rouge)

Zhichao Cho set down the phone and walked out to the balcony of his apartment. His heart thumped a dull pain into his eyes and he took a drink of scotch. He pulled out a Cuban cigar, lit it, and then put it out. He had to be patient, but the hardest thing to do was wait – especially considering the prize that awaited him. At first, he hardly believed how easy it was. But then he realized that the man was seeking him as well. They were like two charges of opposite sign finding their way to each other. Thompson had already been on the Syncorp site.

Cho relit the cigar, took a drag, and blew it out through his teeth. He was going to collect the man he’d been ordered to obtain at “all costs,” and, for the moment, also preserve Syncorp. Red Dragon would soon be operating at full-bore in the homeland.

Another shipment of Exoskeletons was on the water, so he’d only need to arrange two more. More importantly, they’d begun disassembling Syncorp’s fabrication equipment. This included the specialized machining systems – computerized milling machines, lathes, and welders. Once it was all in China, his people could reverse engineer and then produce them, and Red Dragon would be completely independent. Better yet, the United States would have lost the technology, and would have to start over from scratch – if they could stomach it.

He shook his head and smiled as he thought about what was to transpire in the next 48 hours. Why were the Americans so easy to buy? The FBI agents on his payroll weren’t rich, but they weren’t poor either. Why sell out for a couple of years of salary? They risked their freedom and, more shamefully, their honor. And for what? They weren’t friends of China – they didn’t even understand the country. In the end, if their own authorities didn’t discover them first, their lives would end in shame and dishonor. And they’d deserve it.

The next couple of days would be pivotal. The trap was set.

1

Wednesday, 3 June (6:40 a.m. EST – Antarctica)

Daniel followed Horace and Sylvia up to the library. Two sailors fluent in German were supposed to join them within the hour.

They continued with their individual tasks – Sylvia on the translation of the “White Stone,” as it had been referred to in the documents, Horace on the files, and Daniel on the notebooks, although he’d passed two of them to Sylvia since they were notes on deciphering the stone.

Most of the notebook entries had been by Mengele. However, other handwriting appeared from time to time, mostly in German. An hour later, the translators arrived. They transcribed long passages very quickly, and he could tell that they were disturbed by what they read.

Mengele wrote numerous page-long diatribes about seemingly tangential topics. It was these streams of consciousness that Daniel thought had the highest potential of revealing the Nazis’ objective. The idea that they’d been attempting to build an army of super soldiers, or spies, was now bunk. They’d had something else in mind from the beginning, but, up to this point, the truth had eluded him.

In one of Mengele’s passages, he’d speculated about the possibility that a person’s soul might not only leave the body, but also leave any physical structure that contained it – the Exoskeleton, the room, even the entire base. There was no reason to assume that it was physically confined. Mengele had suspected that, in the cases where the Nibbler device had been turned off, someone in an adjacent room could have done it.

The idea was not new: Daniel had read similar things in the Red Wraith files just weeks before. What did catch him off guard, however, was Mengele’s final line:
If true, we are closer to our objective than we previously thought.
But it was only a teaser. Mengele went on to describe how he had “interviewed” the prisoners in the adjacent cells, to see if they had carried out the deed of turning off the Nibbler. But Daniel thought it was unlikely; why would they save someone else before freeing themselves from the same?

At lunch, Daniel reported to the others what he’d learned, and Horace corroborated the information with what he’d gleaned from the victims’ files.

Then it was Sylvia’s turn. “As I said before, the message on the White Stone is a set of instructions. The Nazi researchers were able to make some guesses based on the work of François Champollion in the 1820’s on interpreting hieroglyphics.”

“So the code is broken?” Daniel asked.

“No,” Sylvia replied. “Hieroglyphics are
complex. The writing is figurative, symbolic, and phonetic all at once, and subject to interpretation. But the real problem is the unknown hieroglyphs – if that’s what they are.”

“How many are there?” Horace asked.

“Dozens,” she replied. “One that I think is significant is the symbol the Nazis had interpreted as
drum
– since that word appears so often.”

“By ‘drum’ they mean the beacon?” Daniel asked.

Sylvia nodded.

“Any indication as to why the Nazis were so obsessed with it?” Daniel asked. “Any hint of its purpose?”

Sylvia shrugged and shook her head.

“Anyone with the slightest inquisitive nature would be intrigued by the beacon,” Horace said. “It’s a mystery for many reasons. But the obsession goes beyond scientific curiosity. The Nazis
knew
something.”

Daniel agreed. He had a once-in-a-lifetime mystery on his hands. Under normal circumstances, he’d savor the process. Not this time. Something was bearing down on him. The multinational military involvement that was forming in the waters near the beacon caused some anxiety, but it was more than that.

It was always in the back of his mind, what Horace had said when they’d first gathered in Room 713:
existential implications
. It occurred to him that Horace might know more than what he was sharing.