Game of Shadows (8 page)

M
ił
ków
, Poland

Sean woke up to the first signs of daylight in a tiny bedroom. The dark wooden headboard and multicolored comforter reminded him of childhood nights spent at his grandparents' house. A matching mirror and dresser were opposite of the bed and a small, square window was the only view into the outside world. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the shower in a haze.

The drive from Lucerne to the Polish border had not been a short one. When Sean arrived, it was nearly two in the morning, local time. He'd parked the car outside an inn and managed to stumble inside, exhausted from his travels.

During the last four hours of the drive, he'd struggled to keep the car on the lonely roads that wound through Germany, brushing by the Czech Republic, and across the border into Poland. The first part of the journey had been picturesque, filled with rolling foothills, the tall Harz Mountains in the distance, flat farmlands, lush forests, and the occasional city.

Somehow, he managed to find his way to the check-in counter where a scraggly-haired woman with bad teeth and a fleshy face welcomed him to the inn. Sean was glad he'd been able to get a room, although what he'd seen of the town so far didn't exactly leave an impression on him as a touristy place. On the drive in, most of the village's lights were scattered about, reminding him more of a rural farming community than a city.

He took a ten-minute shower, letting the hot water soothe his skin and dull the effects of waking up so early. It was getting harder and harder for Sean to get a full night's sleep. Lately, the norm had been to get four to five hours at most. This morning had been no different, and the sleep he had been able to get was restless at best.

Visions of Dufort escaping and running amok somewhere in the world kept resurfacing. He wondered if Adriana was okay. And he worried a little about the missing scientist, Dr. Ott. He'd only seen pictures of her in the dossier Emily had sent. She seemed like a nice enough person from her image, but of course, he knew not to judge too soon. Even if she wasn't a terribly friendly person, she was at the very least innocent, and that warranted his help.

He got out of the shower and dried off, rubbed on a little deodorant, and slipped into one of two sets of clean clothes he had with him. He'd packed light so he could remain more mobile. But if this mission went more than a few days, he would need to buy some additional clothes — on the company card, of course.

He grinned at the thought of Emily seeing a bill from a clothier in Prague. She'd be furious, and that almost made him want to make the drive right then and there.

Sean slipped his shoes on and stuffed some of his loose things back into his bag. He slung the rucksack over one shoulder and the backpack over the other and walked to the lobby. A young man, probably in his midtwenties, had replaced the woman from the night before. He smiled brightly and said something to Sean in Polish. It was one of the languages he didn't speak.

"Sorry, I don't know Polish," he apologized.

"Not a problem, sir," the man said in perfect English. "I simply asked if you had a good night's rest."

"As good as I've had in a long time," Sean said. He wasn't lying. The few hours of sleep he had were better than nothing, and he'd needed them badly.

"That's good to hear, sir. If you have any questions for me, don't hesitate to ask."

Sean thanked him and laid the key to his room on the counter, turned, and headed for the door. He hadn't paid much attention to the lobby the night before. He'd been so tired that the memory of even walking into the inn was a blank spot in his mind. Now he took in the quaint interior decor. Dark molding framed the windows, surrounded by dark yellow walls. Vibrant green plants occupied nearly every corner. He could see flower boxes outside the windows, filled with blooms of yellow, white, and purple. There was a sitting area with a sofa and a few chairs near a television. Off to the right, the early risers were getting their breakfast in a small cafeteria-like room.

He left the inn and stepped out into the fresh, warm morning air. According to the weather app on his phone, the local temperatures had been unseasonably hot so far. Nothing like what he was accustomed to in southern Tennessee and north Georgia, but warmer than expected.

He took in the surroundings in an instant, filling the void his mind had left vacant several hours earlier.

The little village only had a small main street that featured a few businesses. Of course, there was a baker and a butcher. It was one of the things Sean loved about Europe; every town seemed to have those two things. He glanced down at his phone and noted the location he was looking for. From the looks of it, the place where he could find Michel Steiner was only a block or so away.

Sean walked around the green hedgerow that separated the inn from the sidewalk and unconsciously remembered where he'd parked his car in a lot just to the left of the inn. He left his backpack in the trunk and headed at a brisk pace toward Steiner's office.

The town was a stark contrast to the busy city center of Lucerne. The Swiss town he'd just left was full of activity, traffic, citizens walking around all over the place, and a myriad of colors, smells, and sights. While the Polish countryside was every bit as beautiful, this small village sported only a few citizens strolling lazily about and seemingly even less automobile traffic. Sean met every face with a polite smile, which was returned by the passersby. It was a practice he'd started using more lately, figuring that a friendly person stuck out less than a person who was trying to look unmemorable.

After passing a stationery store, he found the building he was looking for on the other side of the street. He checked both directions and jogged across, gripping the rucksack with his right hand. Sean didn't understand what the lettering on the building's façade said, but the number matched the one he was given by Tommy.

He opened the glass door and walked inside. The room was empty except for a man who looked to be in his midsixties sitting behind a plain, black desk that looked like it was from the 1970s. It had a woodgrain Formica top and crooked legs. Sean was surprised it could actually support its own weight. A small waiting area with six chairs was next to the window. Sean walked through it and over to the desk. There were no identifying placards, but he assumed the man who was busily writing something on a sheet of paper was the guy he sought.

"Michel Steiner?" he said with an air of uncertainty.

"You sound like an American," the man said without looking up from his notepad. Whatever he was working on must have been important, in spite of the lack of people waiting to be served.

His thin, white hair gave way to a few age spots on his scalp. Sean couldn't see his eyes, but the man was wearing thin, wireframe glasses, a light-blue polo, and gray pants.

"My name is Sean Wyatt. I am looking for a man by the name of Michel Steiner. I was told he runs this place." He decided to be direct and casual.

"I suppose you are here to ask about my father, no?" He kept writing furiously on the paper, never taking his eyes off it. "It is funny to me, Mr. Wyatt. No matter how much good a person does in the world, people still want to punish them for their sins. My father was a good man. He never believed in Hitler's war. And he never obeyed any order to kill anyone."

"I know, Herr Steiner." Sean used the German proper form. "I also understand that he built this business when he went AWOL from the army. Wanted to help people find jobs after the war and rebuild what the Nazis had torn down."

At this, the older man stopped his writing and looked up, peering over the top of his glasses. For a few seconds, he said nothing, just stared up at Sean, studying his face, trying to detect any hint of insincerity or deceit.

"You are not here to talk about Nazis?" he asked finally.

Sean motioned to the chair across from Steiner. The host nodded and leaned back, interested as to what his guest wanted.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Herr Steiner. I am researching something about the Nazis, but it's in regard to your books. I'm curious about the Riese Project."

Steiner tilted his head back and opened his mouth wide. "I see. And you're hoping you can figure out the mystery of whatever it was they were working on in the secret labs over at the mine."

Sean shook his head. "Only if it helps me get what I need."

The man raised his bushy, white eyebrows. "Oh? And what is that?"

Sean twisted his head around and looked outside, making sure no one was coming in. "Around thirty hours ago, a woman was taken from a research laboratory in Switzerland. She was abducted by a terrorist group. I'm not at liberty to give out more information than that. But if I don't figure out where they are and what they want in the next thirty-four hours, they're going to kill her. I can't let that happen."

The shock on the man's face could have stopped a train. "I wasn't aware of anything like that happening."

"You should watch the news a little more."

Steiner shook his head. "I don't like to watch such things. The world is so full of bad news now; it always makes me sad. I prefer to stay blissfully happy."

"I can understand that. But it doesn't change the fact that a young woman is going to be killed in cold blood if I don't figure out what she was working on and locate her in time." Sean stared through the man all the way to the back of the building.

Steiner could tell Sean was telling the truth, but there was still one thing he wanted to know. "What is this woman's name?"

Sean considered it for a second. It had already been blasted all over CNN and all the other news outlets. He wasn't exactly giving away classified information. "Franziska Ott."

For a few seconds, it looked as if Steiner was attempting to figure out whether or not he knew that name. He let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, but how does this young woman have anything to do with my father or die Glocke?"

Sean's face remained stone cold. "Her grandfather was one of the scientists working on the project."

Steiner drew in a long deep breath as his eyes widened. He contemplated the additional information and then stood up, walked over to the door, and flipped around the sign Sean assumed would let any visitors know that the office was closed. He twisted the long rod on the blinds, turning them down. The room was cast in shadow, and immediately became a much creepier place to be.

"I get so many people in here, poking fun at my theories with the Riese Project. They've seen my books and call me a crazy old man. But I've seen things, things that are not easily explained by the human mind or modern science." His voice carried a heavy sense of regret, and his face matched it. "My father did all he could to keep the Nazis from succeeding in their quest for the Wunderwaffe, the wonder weapon that would change the course of the war permanently, and make them completely unbeatable."

"Herr Steiner," Sean said, standing up. "Did you ever see die Glocke?" He took a shot in the dark.

"Me?" The man laughed a little at the notion. "No. I never saw it." Sean figured, but it was worth a try. "But I have seen many drawings of it. And my father was able to steal several calculations that were being used. He did it in an attempt to slow their progress."

Sean reached into his bag and pulled out the leather notebook. He showed it to the older man and laid it on his desk.

"Where did you get that?" Steiner asked, involuntarily walking back over to his workstation.

He eased back into his seat and picked up the book.

"It's a journal from Ott's grandfather. That notebook talks about all the math, theory, and the experiments that were done on the Riese Project."

Steiner carefully opened the book and turned the pages slowly. He didn't want to damage the pages of something so historically valuable. "Again I ask, where did you get this?" he said, never letting his eyes leave the book.

"It belonged to Dr. Ott. I found it in her apartment early yesterday afternoon."

The older man frowned. "In her apartment? Are you some kind of thief?"

"No, sir. I'm more of a specialist for hostage situations. Let's just say the United States government pays me to solve problems like this one." Sean's demeanor never changed. He wanted his host to understand that he was strong and would not bend until he had finished what he was sent to do.

"Ah. Like a detective," Steiner simplified it.

"Sort of. But with a much broader set of skills."

"I see." Steiner stopped turning the pages when he reached one of the last ones, one that contained the image of the bell-shaped object. "Mein Gott," he whispered. "Die Glocke."

Sean leaned forward in his seat and placed his hands on the desk's surface. "You've seen this drawing before?"

"Yes," the man nodded. He swallowed as he read each line of text. "I have seen this same image before, but I didn't know about all of this. This journal proves that the Nazis were trying to figure out a way to manipulate space-time and create their wonder weapon."

"Right. I get that," Sean said, leaning toward another point with the conversation. "But I need to know if there is anything else you might know that can help me find these people or maybe the bell itself." He stared at the man, unbending with his gaze. "An innocent woman's life depends on it."