BLACK FLAMEBook 4 of The Paragon Series

J. Gray

Chapter 1

The train charged down the steel rails at full speed, rushing through the picturesque, alpine countryside like a black arrow. An iron snake pumped full of adrenaline, the black train did not stop at any train station except to take on water and coal. Belching black smoke into the clean, alpine air, the train climbed a high hill, framed by the jagged teeth of the Alps. Birds took flight as the iron beast approached. From their vantage point, the passengers aboard the private train, engine number 13, gazed out the windows at the sleepy village in the valley below. Small figures moved through the streets and in and out of the town, leading oxen, horses, and geese. The hamlet of Grünes Tal ignored the train just as it had for the past seven years. The town folk first thought it odd to see a black train pass by twice a month, but as time went on, and as the train continued its customary trips, they became accustomed to its passage. A fireman shoved more coal into the firebox and slammed the door shut, wiping his brow, cursing under his breath. His back ached from shoveling so constantly and his right finger smarted from accidentally burning himself on a hot shovel blade that came from a blazing coal box. Several cars down from the tender, a luxurious car furnished with expensive paintings, carpets, and sofas rolled smoothly along, containing a small group of wealthy men. Seated before a table in a comfortable booth, three men in black three-piece suits talked in low voices, smoke wafting up from their mouths and from their Cuban cigars. A small kerosene-fueled chandelier produced a sheen on the oiled head of a man with dark, slick-backed hair. He wore a handlebar mustache, with the ends upturned, and a goatee, similar to a van dyke. A brown mole appeared just above his nose. “Gentlemen, you are well aware that our enemies are to be found in every continent. They will stop at nothing until they see our empire destroyed. Thankfully, due to the support we have in high places, our plans will proceed.” A man with a large gold ring on his index finger and a short, gray beard spread his fingers on the table and cleared his throat. “Schlimm, our enemies are weak and will soon be crushed,” he said with the hint of an Italian accent. “We need not fear them.” “Yes, Cattivo, but they have alluded our assassins,” Schlimm replied. “However, that will soon change. I have obtained word of their whereabouts. Our plans will move forward. Do not fear. Our men will take care of them. In the mean time, we will achieve a foothold on the future. Then, the world will come on its knees to us, begging us for mercy.”

The three men listening smiled diabolically. “But, we will not give them mercy,” Cattivo said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

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A man in his late twenties, wearing a dark blue, wool jacket raised a Winchester double-barrel shotgun to his shoulder and quickly took aim at his target. Perspiration ran down his forehead as he concentrated. He clenched his teeth and inched his finger toward the trigger. As his finger squeezed, a loud blast rang through the forest, echoing off trees nearby and a thin, wooden board with a paper target affixed to it, exploded in a spray of splinters twenty-five feet away. “Good shot, master Wallis,” a man spoke from behind him. Popping the break-action shotgun open, the young man turned to see an older man in a tweed jacket and a wide-brimmed fedora. “Walter, you can just call me Sam,” Sam said slightly irritated. He had wanted to practice shooting and improve his aim and he hated interruptions. Walter, a dark-haired man with a greased, combed-back hairstyle hesitated. As a butler, he was accustomed to the proper formalities. Calling his boss by his first name was not formal. Walter twitched his upturned, black mustache as he thought briefly about the idea of dropping formalities before saying, “A telegram arrived for you, sir.” Sam wrinkled his brow, squinting. “A telegram? I haven’t written to anyone.” Walter pulled an envelope from an inner pocket and handed it to Sam. Tearing it open, Sam pulled out the telegram and read aloud, “Meet me at Laurenzi’s STOP Downtown Lexington STOP 4 o’clock on Friday the 5th STOP. Important information STOP.” “Hmm,” Sam said, scanning down the paper. “The sender is anonymous.” “It appears you are wanted,” Walter said with a hint of curiosity in his voice. “What do you think this anonymous sender wants with me?” Walter inhaled quickly and chuckled. “Don’t get me involved in this, sir. I am merely a butler.” Sam scratched his clean-shaven chin. What could this be about? Who do I know who would invite me anonymously? “Walter, I will need to make some preparations for tomorrow,” Sam said, winking. “Yes, sir,” Walter said, catching the wink. “Do not forget to bring your latest acquisition.” “I won’t,” Sam said, grinning.

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A black coach pulled up along the curb and came to a stop. The two-horse team snorted, blowing hot air from their nostrils, having traveled a considerable distance. The cobblestone streets of Lexington, Kentucky were mildly busy that autumn day. Carriages, coaches, hansom cabs, fourgons, and buggies ambled down the streets between the light crowds of pedestrians. To the right of the coach, a brick building with a decorative awning displayed the name Laurenzi’s in clover-green lettering. The driver dismounted from his perch on the outside of the coach and opened the door, and Samuel Wallis stepped out. “Thank you, Sterling, but that wasn’t necessary.” Sam wished his hired servants didn’t treat him like royalty. He had been used to living an ordinary, blue-collar life as a grocery store clerk before he had inherited his grandfather’s estate and a few million dollars. His grandfather, a mysterious adventurer who was thought to have met an untimely demise, reappeared some months ago and helped Sam on his previous adventure that included finding the Lost City of Gold. John Byron Wallis had declined Sam’s offer to receive the estate back, saying that he, J.B. Wallis, had more possessions than Sam was aware of and did not need it. Wearing a simple brown-leather jacket, a pair of black trousers, and leather work boots, Sam stepped inside the Italian restaurant and scanned the patrons. A few couples were seated at tables scattered here and there. The business was slower now than at the dinner hour. As Sam looked around, a waiter in an impeccable three-piece tuxedo approached him. “What may I do for you?” “I am waiting for someone,” Sam replied. “A table for two will be fine.” “Are you Mr. Samuel Wallis?” the waiter asked. “Yes,” Sam said, curious. “Sir, I think a man is waiting for you. Come, this way.” Sam followed the waiter through the restaurant to a corner booth. His eyes widened when he saw who was seated there. “Grandpa? It’s you. It is so good to see you,” Sam said as he sat opposite J.B. Wallis, depressing a leather cushion. “Sam, it has been too long,” John Byron Wallis replied, smiling. “I will give you a chance to examine your menus, gentlemen,” the waiter said as he left.

John was in his early seventies or late sixties, but was very spry and fit for his age. He had a short white beard, a full head of matching hair, and a genuine smile. A fancy, tailor-made suit made the older man look distinguished and wealthy. “Where have you been all this time?” Sam asked. “I visited the Louvre, the British Museum, and a few other places. You know me, Sam.” John Wallis reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a black leather box. Setting this on the table with a sphinx-like smile, John reached into another pocket and withdrew a pair of reading glasses. Peering over the top of the glasses, John grinned. “Guess what’s in the box.” “A map.” “No.” “A compass.” “No.” “A jewel.” “No.” “What, then?” John leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Do you know who presides over the country of Sweden?” “No. Who?” Sam leaned forward, curious. John undid a clasp and lifted the lid of the box to reveal a letter bearing a seal. Impressed in the red wax was a seal depicting a lion standing on its hind paws and a castle tower to its right. “King Oscar the Second of Sweden gave me permission to bring this letter to you.” “What?” Sam said, leaning back. “You say he wrote the letter to me?” Sam could not imagine why a king would want to write to him. He was honored, but what had he done to deserve this special attention? “A lot is happening in Europe at the moment, but most of it is happening beneath the surface. I was privileged enough to gain an audience with the king of Sweden.” Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How would his grandpa be able to speak with a king? “And…” “Read the letter and you will learn more.” “But, it would be in Swedish.” “No, it is in English.” “He knows how to write English?” “Sam, he can speak English,” John said smiling. “Go on, read it.” Pulling out a pocket knife, Sam carefully cut along the top edge of the

envelope, preserving the wax seal. With the letter in hand, Sam began to read. “Dear Mr. Samuel Wallis, I am most pleased by your grandfather’s visit and his wise counsel. I must be forthright with this letter. Therefore, I will explain the events leading to your grandfather’s visit and the reason for writing to you. As king of Sweden, I am privy to information that most will not find readily obtainable. My agents have informed me that individuals or organizations within the governments of Europe are conspiring to overthrow any country or individual who will not be bought by their bribes and chicanery. It has come to my attention that you have been very successful in haulting evil enterprises. Therefore, the government of Sweden will be most pleased if you would assist us in snuffing out this criminal behavior. Sincerely, King Oscar II.” Sam paused to scan over the letter again. After a few moments, he said, “Wouldn’t King Oscar have people who could help him? I am no agent or spy.” “Sam, you would not be doing this alone,” John said calmly. “Who else would go with me, then?” “If you chose to accept, you will meet them tomorrow,” John said as he leaned back and clasped his hands. “And if I don’t?” “You’ll miss out on an adventure, a reward, and the chance to do something worth while.” Those were the words Sam needed to hear. He was starting to get bored of his life as a wealthy man, living in a large mansion, by himself, with only a few servants to maintain the place. He itched for adventure. “When do we leave for Sweden?” Sam asked, feeling his heartbeat start to increase. “Tomorrow,” John said. Just then, the waiter arrived. “What would you gentlemen like to order?”

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Seagulls wheeled overhead, cawing as they searched for anything they could eat. The sun, a golden orb in the sky, sparkled off the water as the sea crashed into a nearby cliff sending up a foamy spray. Sam stepped off the quay and onto a boarding ramp carrying a leather suitcase. Above him, the Sjöfågel, a Swedish passenger ship, rose high overhead. Its massive, black smoke stacks with white bands near the top released a few wispy clouds of dark gray smoke as the giant steam engines warmed up.

Behind Sam, John Wallis huffed and puffed carrying a bulky portmanteau. Sam turned back. “Why did you bring that, grandpa?” “I carry a lot of miscellaneous items with me when I travel,” John replied between breaths. Sam returned his attention to the ship. The queue of boarding passengers was approaching a door in the side of the ship. With their previous conversation still fresh in his mind, Sam looked forward to meeting the mysterious people John had talked about. After searching through the first-class hallways for a few minutes, the two men reached their cabin. It was a richly furnished suite complete with a bathroom, three bedrooms, a living room, and a small kitchen. A couple chesterfield sofas and one cushioned straight back chair formed a ring around the center of the living room. A couple paintings on the wall displayed scenery from the Swedish coast including light houses and sandy beaches. Sam deposited his trunk in his room and met John in the living room. John pulled a gold pocket watch out of an inner pocket of his suit jacket and flipped the cover open. “Lunch will be served in a few minutes,” he said a moment later. “Let’s go there early.” Sam and John left the room, passed down a hall to a stairwell and ascended it to the next floor. Passing down a hallway which ended in a set of oak doors, they entered the dining room. A massive room with widely-spaced pillars, tables, chairs, floral arrangements, and chandeliers appeared before them. Many dozens of people were already seated, either waiting for waiters or enjoying tasty entrees. As They walked through the large room, scanning the tables, Sam’s eyes locked on one table in particular, and one person in particular. He hadn’t seen her for some time. Mary Kirsch, a brunette with hazel eyes was a girl he couldn’t keep from thinking about. She had been on all of his previous adventures along with her dad, Andrew, an archeologist who worked for whoever would hire him. Both father and daughter were seated at a table near a large window the overlooked the top deck and the sea. Sensing that someone was looking at her, Mary turned and locked eyes with Sam. Neither blinked as they took each other in. It had been a long time since Mary had seen Sam, months and months ago. It seemed like years. She had wanted to hear from him for some time. She missed his calm and kind manner and his love for adventure, which she shared. “Mary,” Sam said as he approached her. “It’s so good to see you. I’m surprised you are here.” Mary stood, with a bright smile on her face. “I miss you Sam.” “I do too. That is—I mean—I miss you too.”

Mary smiled at his fumble. She thought he was the cutest guy in the world, but she would never tell him that, at least, not now. They had been corresponding since their last adventure and had written a number of letters back and forth, but had not visited in person for a long time. With each letter their feelings for each other were growing stronger. Feeling awkward, Sam tried to sweep away the remains of his last sentence and said, “Mary, what brings you here?” “Your grandfather,” she replied mysteriously. Andrew Kirsch stood up and shook Sam’s hand. “It is good to see you, Sam. I look forward to working with you. We have quite an adventure ahead of us, according to your grandfather.” Andrew, in his mid-fifties, had light brown hair, a mustache and had a penchant for kaki trousers and shirts. He wore a pair of brown trousers and a kaki shirt that looked like it could be worn on a safari. A brown, wide-brimmed hat rested on a nearby coat rack. Sam could see it had a slight amount of sandy dust. “Tell me more about this adventure,” Sam said as he took a seat beside Mary. “Your grandfather would be the best one to ask that question.” Andrew winked. Sam turned to where his grandfather was standing, but a waiter appeared instead. “You have had time to read your menus?” he asked. Sam turned his head side to side, trying to find his grandfather. Where had he gone? He couldn’t have vanished into thin air. “Sir, what is the matter?” the waiter asked, noticing Sam’s worried face. “Have you seen a bearded, white-haired man around here?” “Yes,” the waiter said, with a questioning look. “He is over there.” The waiter indicated a table a short distance away. Seated at the table were three men. Two had blonde hair. The third had white hair and his back was turned to Sam. Sam stood from the table and walked over to the table with the three men. “Excuse me,” Sam said as he approached. The two blonde-haired men looked up at Sam with curious expressions. One of the men had side burns and a mustache while the other was clean shaven. The white-haired man turned around. “Sam,” John said, “meet Ansgar…” John motioned toward the clean-shaven man. “…and Bjor.” He indicated the whiskered man. “They are our escorts, sent by King Oscar.” Sam nodded to them politely before leaning down and whispering into his grandfather’s ear. “Why did you surprise me like that.” “Why? I like surprises,” John said, chuckling softly. “These men are here for

our protection.” “Why would we need protection?” Sam asked aloud. “The king has many enemies,” the clean-shaven Ansgar said. “We must protect his interests,” Bjor added. “Tell me,” Sam said, curiously. “What kind of enemies are we up against?” Ansgar narrowed his eyes. “We must not talk about that here.” “Yes, we can talk about that more in a secluded spot.” “Well, would you gentlemen care to join us at the table over there?” Sam asked. “In a little bit,” John said. As Sam walked back to the table where Mary and Andrew were seated he wondered what exactly his grandfather wanted to discuss with the men from Sweden. “So, Sam,” Mary spoke as he took the seat beside her. “How is your estate treating you?” Sam turned his head toward her, realizing that he had been staring at his grandpa and the two Swedish men. “What did you say?” he asked. “How have you been getting along in your estate?” “Oh, decent, I guess,” Sam faced her, smiling. “Really, it’s been rather boring. I’ve missed the adventures we’ve been on with your dad and all.” “I do as well.” An awkward pause followed Rachel’s statement. “Sam, do you still have your dirigible?” Andrew asked from across the small table. “Yes, I do. It is really quite a challenge to maintain and I have left it to the elements, but it is still airworthy.” Almost two years ago during an adventure where the team had encountered an evil Prussian nobleman, Count Max von Oberst, who was in charge of several Prussian battalions. The dirigible, a very new invention that had never seen the skies before, made its appearance one day while Sam’s team was in Russia. During the course of their trip in Europe, Sam and his friends were able to capture the airship and take it back to America. Sam kept it on his sprawling estate in Kentucky. “I miss that airship,” Andrew said with a theatrical sigh. “It would have only taken us a little more than a day to make the trip that will take us a week by boat.” “Father, we mustn’t complain. I like taking voyages. You can enjoy sights, the sea breezes, and the company of friends.” She turned to Sam and winked.

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A week later, Sam was standing on the port side deck and looking out across the glassy, dark water of the Baltic Sea. In the distance, the Swedish coastline appeared with a few low clouds brooding over it. The stiff ocean breeze ruffled his brown wool greatcoat and caused the Swedish flag to snap briskly in the wind. Most of the passengers were indoors and only Sam leaned against the guard rail. “What a lovely view,” a woman’s voice said from behind him. Sam turned to see Mary dressed in a blue dress and matching jacket. Her chestnut hair was flowing freely in the wind. “It is,” Sam said quickly, smiling at her in return. She was a lovely girl, but was hard to decipher. At times she would be very cheerful and talkative, while other times she would be introspective and quiet. During her subdued moods, she would only offer brief responses to his questions and didn’t carry a conversation. The loss of her mother when she was a young girl must have had something to do with that. “Sam,” Mary said, facing him. “Yes?” “I love the ocean. The calming sound of waves lapping at a beach, the sea anemones, starfish, and sea turtles.” “I went to the ocean a couple times as a boy. I liked searching through the tide pools looking for seashells. I would poke holes through several shells and run a string through them. My foster parents ended up throwing them away when they were cleaning out the house. Why do you bring up the sea?” “My father was talking about taking a vacation and visiting the southern cost of Spain.” “That sounds nice, but I was thinking we could visit the Bahamas. That is, your father would accompany us, of course,” Sam said, knowing that it was not a good idea for a man and a woman to travel together unless they were married. “I would be delighted,” Mary said with a warm smile. “Mary, what is your favorite kind of chocolate?” “You want to know my favorite? I would say…Swiss or anything from Europe. Why do you ask?” “Oh,” Sam said awkwardly, “just wondering.” Mary gave Sam a knowing look. “What do you have in mind, Sam?” “You’ll see,” Sam replied with a twinkle in his eye. “What is going on over here?” a stern voice spoke from behind them. Both Sam and Mary turned to see Andrew Kirsch looking at them with narrowed eyes. “We were just enjoying a bit of fresh air,” Sam said, nervously. Just then, Andrew’s stern expression melted into a grin. “Enjoying the fresh

air, aye? You two make a perfect couple, you know that?” Andrew patted his daughter on the back and winked at Sam. He started to leave, but stopped in mid-stride and turned back toward Sam. “We will be arriving at port in a few hours. Be prepared for a special surprise.” Sam looked at Mary when he had left. “What surprise is he talking about?” “It’s a surprise.”

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After weaving through the islands that surround the city of Stockholm, the Sjöfågel came to rest against the concrete dock and laid anchor. Once the boarding ramp was down and secured, the passengers began filing out like a precession of ants leaving their colony. Sam, Mary, Andrew, John, and the two Swedes found themselves in a busy dockyard. A man approached wearing a blue and yellow uniform with golden brushes on the shoulders of his double breasted jacket, the lapels of which were bright yellow. He wore a tall shako, a cylindrical hat with a black visor and a feathered plume at the top. It was similar to the hat worn by marching bands. In this case, the feathered plume was yellow and the hat blue. A metal plate on the front displayed the words “palats vakt” underneath the royal coat of arms of Sweden, three gold crowns superimposed on a blue field. He carried a saber and two ceremonial pistols on his belt. Two soldiers in blue uniforms stood behind him. Both wore double breasted uniforms with shorter shakos and carried bolt-action Mausers with attached bayonets. They had yellow lapels and yellow sashes. Facing the small group, these men looked grim. Sam tensed slightly. “Hello. I am Stefan Klasson, captain of the palace guard. You are expected at the palace. Please come with me,” the man in the front said. Stefan led them to a large carriage. The doors were opened for them to enter. Once the civilians were seated, the man walked back to his carriage and the small procession rolled on toward the royal palace of Sweden. The reached a tall wrought iron gate set in a high stone wall. Guards stationed at the gate slid open drawbars and drew them apart. Sam peered through the carriage window at the vast stretch of manicured gardens, water fountains, pools, and cobblestone pathways. The carriage stopped before the massive entrance to the palace and the doors were opened. Once they set foot in on the ground, the man with the tall shako approached

them from his carriage. “Welcome to Drottningholm Palace, home of our great king, his majesty Oscar the Second. Please accompany me and I will take you to your rooms. Then, we will be joining the rest of his majesty’s guests.” Stefan set of and quickly ascended dozen steps and passed through a pair of massive, ornate doors. Inside, their footsteps echoed off the walls of a massive gallery lit by chandeliers and filled with decorative plants, book shelves, small tables, and rich tapestries. Four minutes later, after passing up a staircase and down a few more hallways, they arrived at a hall lined with fancy bedroom suites. “You three gentlemen will go here,” Stefan indicated an open doorway leading into an elaborate hotel-like suite. “Madam, you may take the room across,” Stephan pointed toward the door across the hall and nodded stiffly toward Mary. “I trust that these accommodations are acceptable?” “Yes, very much,” Mary said nodding. “Very good then. I will now take you to the royal ballroom,” Stefan said before setting off again on a brisk walk. Sam did his best to remember the room number and followed the guide. Did he say ballroom? Sam wondered. ballroom? Descending a set of stairs at the end of the hall, and passing down another hall a short distance, the group found themselves before a set of oak doors with fanciful lions carved into the wood. Classical music drifted through the door. Two palace guards with snappy shakos opened the double doors to reveal a massive ballroom filled with dozens of men and women drinking, talking, or dancing to waltz music. A band was playing on a raised platform in one corner of the room. A number of tables were partially occupied by chatting couples. Waiters carrying silver trays laden with caviar, pastries, and other entrees zigzagged through the palace guests. “Feel welcome to join the ball,” Stefan doffed his hat and turned to leave. “Sam, are you surprised?” Mary asked. “Why yes.” He turned to Mary and reached out to her with his hand. “Mary, would you care to dance?” “I would be delighted,” she said staring up into his eyes. The couple moved out onto the center and danced to the slow music of Strauss. While they did, a pair of eyes gazed out at them suspiciously from among the small crowd. As they danced, Sam tried to keep his wits about him, but try as he might, his eyes would always return to Mary’s face.

“This is Strauss, isn’t it?” Sam asked. “Oh, is that what it is? It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Mary asked. “Perhaps, some day we could visit Vienna, the home of Strauss.” “Strauss was born in St. Ulrich, wasn’t he?” “Oh, I don’t know,” Sam muttered. “I thought his birthplace was Vienna.” After twenty minutes of dancing together, Mary asked, “Would you like to get some refreshments now?” “Sure. I am getting a little thirsty.” They walked over to a table where John and Andrew were seated. “You two appear to have a knack for dancing,” Andrew commented. Mary chuckled. “Not as much as you, father.” “That was ages ago, honey.” “Where is the king?” Sam asked. “I haven’t seen him,” Andrew said, shrugging. Quietly, John Wallis stood from the table and left without saying a word. “Where is he headed off to?” Andrew asked. “I don’t know,” Sam said just before he left to follow his grandpa who was already mostly concealed in the crowd of finely dressed people. John quickly but cordially moved through the clusters of people and ducked through a doorway to the left. Sam followed and found himself in a large, dark closet filled with shelves. From the light poring in from the ballroom it appeared to be a closet where the tables were stored. Footsteps shuffled up a set of wooden stairs to the right. Sam waited a few moments before following. Ascending in the darkness, he was glad he had brought his pistol with him. The .476 calibre Enfield Mk I pistol had served Sam faithfully for several years now and he always intended to carry it with him. Pulling out the Enfield from under his belt, he cocked the hammer and tensed. His many adventures taught him that being prepared for anything was the wisest course of action to take. At the top of the steps, Sam paused and gazed into the darkness. He groped in front of him until his hand touched solid surface in front of him. He slid his hand along it and found a door handle. Careful, so that he wouldn’t make any sound, he slid the door open a crack. A finger of light shot out through the gap. Peering through this opening, Sam saw two men seated at a table across from each other. One was his grandfather, who was facing the doorway, seated a few yards away. The other man had his back to the door and his face hidden. He had dark hair and appeared to have a medium build. A kerosene lamp resting on the table was the only light source in the room and it cast eerie shadows across the small room. “It is too dangerous,” the man whose head was in shadows said. “Why? You have protection. Your plans will be successful,” John said,

earnestly, leaning forward. “You do not understand, John. You must play the game. Now, go back to your friends.” John sighed. “I hope this works.” “It should,” the other man replied. “Now, go.” John stood up and walked toward a door at the far end of the room. The other man approached the lantern and took it, moving toward the same door, away from Sam’s direction. Sam couldn’t see his face. Not wanting to be caught spying, Sam replaced his Enfield, turned, and hurried down the stairs and back through the closet, into the ballroom. That was very strange. Who was the man his grandfather conferred with? What kind of business was his grandfather involved in? The trip to Sweden had suddenly got mysterious.

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After another dance number had played, a group of ceremonial-dressed, royal guards came through a door at one end of the room. The guards were wearing uniforms similar to the uniforms worn by Stefan and the other palace guards, except that these guards had shiny helmets with feathered plumes, sheathed sabers, and short capes. They formed two parallel lines jutting out into the room. Striding officiously between the lines of guards, a court official in a ceremonial outfit that looked like something from the 1700s nervously clenched a scroll in his hands. Coming to a stop at the end of the soldiers, he cleared his throat, raised the scroll to his face, and adjusted his glasses. "Alla herrar och damer, och kända gäster, tack för att delta denna kungliga bollen. Jag är nu glad att presentera hans majestät kung Oscar den andra kung av Sverige och alla länder som hör dit och kung av Norge och alla länder som hör dit." Once he was finished speaking in Swedish, he cleared his throat and repeated the same passage in Norwegian. Then, almost out of breath, he said the same passage in English : “Lords and Ladies, and all celebrated guests, thank you for attending this royal ball. I am now pleased to present to you his majesty, King Oscar the Second, King of Sweden and all the lands pertaining thereto and King of Norway and all the lands pertaining thereto.” The court official moved off to the side. Out through the door lined by royal guards, stepped a man who appeared to be in his 60s. He had white hair and a white beard. He looked very serious as he first stepped out, but then he grinned as he took in all the people. The first thing Sam noticed about this man was that his smile was fake.

Something was deeply wrong. Sam could feel it. Once the king had reached the end of the lines of guards, the soldiers deftly maneuvered with a coordinated movement to form a box around the king. The guards were spaced far apart so that there were gaps wide enough for the people to see the king. A few of the guests looked at the king with concern. “Herrar och damer,” the king said with a rich, baritone voice, “ska du inte vara orolig mig. Jag måste vidta extra försiktighetsåtgärder under dessa svåra tider. ” Once the king had finished his first couple sentences, the court official translated them into Norwegian: “Mine damer og herrer, vennligst ikke være bekymret for meg. Jeg må ta ekstra forholdsregler i disse vanskelige tider.” And, then he translated them into English, “Ladies and gentlemen, please do not be worried about me. I need to take extra precautions in these difficult times.” The king continued, talking about the wonderful strengths of both Norway and Sweden and spoke of their rich histories and cultures. He brought a statement that both countries would grow and prosper under his reign and that unity in Scandinavia would be best for both countries. The king finished with call to toast. Almost all the guests raised wine glasses toward the king and brought them clanging together. Strangely, once the king had finished his speech, he turned on his heels and went back the way he came and the guards followed suite. The nobility of Norway and Sweden continued talking and chatting over their wine and entrees after the king had left, but some looked uneasy. They could sense something was wrong. Sam sensed it too. Kings were not normally aloof to their noble guests. What was going on? Out of curiosity, Sam turned his head toward the door John Wallis had passed through earlier. He couldn’t get out of his mind the strange meeting his grandfather and the mysterious man had had just a few minutes ago. Andrew was several feet away collecting a couple entrees from a waiter. Sam turned to Mary. “Mary, you stay here. I’m going to check up on something.” “What do you want to do?” “I’ll explain later.” Before Mary said anything more, Sam took off, quickening his pace. His movements didn’t go undetected. A man among the scores of finely-dressed gentlemen gazed Sam’s way with narrowed eyes, watching as Sam moved his way through the crowd and hurried into a closet door. The gentleman excused himself, set his wine glass on a table, and--as unobtrusively as possible--moved toward the closet on the opposite side of the room. In the darkness, Sam crept up the steps that led to the room above. He hoped

no one could hear him, but the old wooden boards creaked slightly under his weight. Sam pulled his Enfield revolver from his belt and cocked the hammer again. Reaching the top step, he gently nudged open the door and tried to adjust his eyes to the deeper darkness in the room. Sam always kept a box of matches and a small candle with him just in case he needed some light. He started his habit because his mansion, Wesley Hall, was so extensive that many of the rooms and hallways were unlit. Pulling out a candle from a deep pocket in his brown leather jacket, Sam set it on the ground while he searched for his match box. A sound reached his ears: footsteps approaching from the closet at the bottom of the staircase. Sam grabbed the candle and pushed open the door, entering the dark room. His candle was unlit, but that problem could not be solved until he was sure no one was following him or would run into him. He couldn’t pass for being a servant wearing a leather jacket and wool trousers. Sam inched the door shut and felt into an inner pocket for the matches. Success. His hand closed around the tiny box. In a moment, he had the candle lit and illuminating his surroundings. The room was lined with shelves which were laden with wooden crates. The table was small and could only seat four. A small piece of paper lay on the table. On it a note was written in English. It said, “Went to the woods on the palace grounds.” A crudely drawn map under the writing with an X in a cloud-shaped boundary. Above the cloud-shaped boundary, a large building, drawn from an overhead view, was labeled as “palace”. This clearly was the work of his grandfather. Sam turned the paper over and saw “mendacium” written in small lettering. Being mendacious means to be deceptive. Mendacium must be the Latin word for lies or deception. Sam grinned and set the paper back on the table with the crude map facing up. He spotted an open door in the far end of the room. He stepped through and entered a dark, narrow hallway that ended at a T-intersection. The hallway was so narrow that his shoulders almost brushed against the walls. Walking quickly, shielding the candle with his hand, Sam reach the corner and glanced in either direction. The left hall was short and ended at a door. The right hall disappeared into darkness. Sam took the right hall and continued on his trek in search of the grandfather. His heart began to beat faster when he thought he caught a faint sound of footsteps coming from the hall he had just left. Was he being followed? The hallway reached a spiral stairwell and continued on. Sam decided he would take the stairs and descend. His grandfather’s map was an attempt to deceive someone, but who? John must know that Sam was following him. That is why he wrote the word

“mendacium” on the back. So, John was intending to deceive someone else. With all senses on alert, Sam tried to descend the wrought-iron steps as quietly as possible. The candle flame was small and dim, but he shouldn’t risk it. Sam blew it out. As he did he paused on the steps and listened. His heartbeat filled his ears for several long moments. Then, a new sound reached his ears. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Leather shoes walked past the entrance to the stairwell and their squeaking sound faded away into silence after a moment or two. Sam breathed again, forgetting that he had been holding his breath. After waiting a couple minutes to be sure that the person following him was gone, Sam continued his descent until he reached a door. He swung it open and found himself in a stone room with a hallway appearing in the wall opposite him. A lamp was burning brightly on a table and two men were seated before it, their backs turned to Sam. They appeared to be in deep conversation. That moment, both turned toward Sam and, in a flash, one drew a pistol from a holster on his belt and aimed it at Sam. “Drop that pistol and raise your hands!” the man asked with an intense expression on his bearded face. Sam was taken aback. The man was King Oscar II. He had a white beard and hair and face that looked familiar. “I said, drop that pistol!” the King said louder. Sam set the gun on the floor. “King Oscar?” “That is I. And, who are you? Do you intend to kill me like your people did to Prince Roland or to the duke of Hordaland in Norway? Your evil schemes will be stopped. I will have you shot tomorrow.” “Sire, that man is my grandson, Samuel Wallis,” the other man spoke. “Grandpa,” Sam said, “I’m glad to see you.” Addressing the king, Sam said, “I beg your pardon, King Oscar, but I happened to follow my grandfather into the closet and up the stairs to the upper room. I was curious what you two were discussing. It seems you have many enemies. Please, tell me what is going on. Why are you being so secretive?” “I see you are very astute,” the old king said with a slight smile. “Your grandfather is a good friend of mine and because I trust his judgment, I believe I can trust you too. A couple years ago my agents have gained intelligence that reveals a conspiracy: a conspiracy that includes people from many countries in the continent of Europe and perhaps around the globe.” Oscar stared at the ground in thought before continuing, “The men behind this conspiracy have dark intentions for Europe. I don’t know exactly what those intentions are, but I can say that they are very sinister indeed. They are

silencing all those who are aware of their conspiracy by either bribery or blackmail…or assassination. I have spies among my people. Because of this, I must be very careful. I have hired trusted men to act as doubles for me. They can fool most people and I myself have almost been fooled by them. By the use of wigs, false noses, and cosmetics they can look like anyone.” “So, the man we saw in the ballroom just one of your doubles,” Sam said it more as a statement than as a question. “That is correct. But, going back to the conspiracy… We have gained new intelligence that a brilliant scientist with a very strange name has gone missing. What is his name, John?” “Prospereau Schnörkelheim,” John Wallis said quietly. “Pros-per-oh Sch-nor-kel-heim,” Oscar repeated, stressing the syllables. “I think he is an Italian.”“Actually, he was a Swiss citizen with German ancestry,” John corrected.“Anyways,” Oscar continued, “he was rumored to have invented a machine that can both fire cannon shells and deflect bullets with armored plates. What’s more, it does not run on steam power. It is powered by something else entirely. It can cover ground quickly on articulating plates or treads that loop around a complex cluster of wheels. I have seen a sketch one of our spies has made of it. It almost defies the imagination.” The king rubbed his chin pensively before adding, “I don’t know why, but this also reminds me of the most unusual earthquake that occurred a month ago in a remote region in northern Sweden. According to the locals, the area had not seen an earthquake of that magnitude for many centuries. Dishes crashed to the floor and pictures rattled in homes over ten miles from the location of the quake.” He turned his attention back to Sam. “But, I digress. I have intended to fully explain this to you once the royal ball would be finished. The reason I have invited you and your friends here is that I want to form a team: a team to track down the muddy footprints of these conspirators…” He paused before finishing. “…all the way to the end of the trail. I want these men tried and hung for their nefarious deeds.” “What do they intend on doing?” Sam asked, curious. He was like a hound who had caught the scent and wanted to be unleashed. “That is what I want you to find out,” Oscar said narrowing his eyes. The room was silent for a moment. “When do we start?” Sam asked. “Tomorrow.”

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Chapter 2

A fire consumed the oak logs in the hearth, licking at the wood with thin tongues of flame, carving into the blackening wood. Seated before this display of rapid oxidation, in comfortable arm chairs, were four people: Sam, John, Andrew, and Mary. They were in a private study that belonged to the king. Two trusted royal guards stood at attention inside, near the door. Walking back and forth in front of the fireplace, King Oscar II spoke about his concern for his kingdom and the future of Europe. Letting his eyes shift from one person to the next, the king explained his plan. “These men I speak of are set on conquering Europe and destroying it. I firmly believe this with all my heart.” “How do you think they intend to do that?” Andrew asked. “Europe has a lot of countries. Even Napoleon couldn’t keep Europe under his thumb for more than a few years.” “That is what I want you to find out. I believe the answer to our question lies in one man.” “Who?” Mary asked. “Prospereau Schnörkelheim,” Oscar said quietly, lowering his voice. “Who is that?” Mary frowned in confusion. Oscar clasped his hands behind his back. “He is an inventor who has, according to rumors, designed an armored vehicle that can move under its own propulsion and fire cannon shells. That is not all. He is also rumored to have invented a powerful machine that can fire lightning bolts at distant objects. They say he has harnessed electricity and can use it as a weapon. This cabal will go at great lengths to protect the secrecy of their work. Several of my agents have gone missing. I suspect they were murdered.” Oscar let the words sink in before continuing. “This past Spring, Prospereau was designing a new type of artillery cannon for the French Army and living in Paris. He suddenly disappeared and the

French government quietly started a search. A couple months later, one of my agents saw him in Munich. The next day, he vanished from Munich. I have not contacted the French government because it is too risky. The cabal’s moles have infiltrated the governments of most European countries.” “Do we know where Prospereau lived when he stayed in Munich?” Sam asked. “My agents have some clues, but nothing substantial.” “What kind of clues?” Mary asked, curious. Oscar smiled. “Word-of-mouth clues they obtained from asking hotel managers and employees at the Munich Central Station, the München Hauptbahnhof.” “Will some of your experienced agents accompany us?” Mary asked. “Of course,” Oscar said before snapping his fingers. The two guards at the door touched the visors of their shakos in a salute before opening the study door. In walked Ansgar and Bjor, the two Swedes Sam had met on the ship coming to Sweden. “Gentlemen, and lady,” Oscar said with a glance at Mary, “meet my two best agents, Ansgar and Bjor.” Ansgar, the clean-shaven man, dipped his head toward the king, followed by Bjor, the mustached man, who did likewise. “I trust that you have already met, but just in case…” Oscar said, leaving his sentence hanging. “Together with my men, you will form my elite task force, sjöfågel or seabird,” Oscar said, laughing and clapping his hands together. “You will find this man Prospereau and perhaps put an end to the cabal’s madness.”

_____________________ The port town of Krummendorf, Prussia was overshadowed by a dark rain cloud that assaulted the Germanic city incessantly the day the Swedish passenger ship, Hav Maskstav, arrived carrying businessmen, tourists, and King Oscar’s sjöfågel task force. Sam purchased an umbrella from a small store near the waterfront and handed it to Mary. “Here you go. It’s for you.” She smiled. “How thoughtful of you. Thank you, Sam.” The Swedish agents had left Sam, Mary, Andrew, near main thoroughfare of the town, a street lined with quaint shops that sold everything from candy to seafood. The shops were two or three-story structures in which the living areas where the families stayed were on the upper floors. Andrew and John puttered through a store that sold antiques and model ships while Sam and Mary decided

to head for a café. Sam only knew a smattering of German, but Mary was almost fluent. “Haben Sie Zucker?” Mary asked the man standing behind the counter as he handed her the coffee she had ordered. “Ja.” The man reached behind the counter and handed Mary a salt-shaker filled with sugar. “Sie haben einen Akzent. Wo kommst du her?” You have an accent. Where are you from? the man asked. “Wir sind aus Amerika. Preußen ist ein schönes Land.” We are from America. Prussia is a beautiful country. Mary said with a smile. The man looked at her in a way Sam felt uncomfortable about. “Wenn Deutschland und Preußen zu einem Staat vereinigen würden, würden sie abgeschlossen sein.” If Germany and Prussia would combine into one state, they would be complete. The man said. “Vielleicht.” Perhaps. Mary replied before she turned away and walked toward Sam’s table. “Mary, I don’t like the way he looked at you,” Sam said once she was seated with two cups of coffee, one for her and one for Sam. “What way?” She said as she took a sip. “He… oh, you wouldn’t understand.” Sam took a sip and swished it through his mouth. The coffee was good, but the uneasiness that ate at his mind seemed to deprive him of the taste. “Do you ever get the feeling that you are putting yourself in unnecessary danger?” Sam asked. “Sometimes. Why do you ask?” Mary said in between sips. Sam felt his heart beat faster. The truth was he loved Mary, but he couldn’t bring himself to get closer to her or to reveal his heart to her. “I just don’t want to see anything bad happen to you.” Mary looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes and started to blush. He loves me, she thought. In Sam’s peripheral vision he noticed someone or something looking at him through the large shop window. Sam turned his head, but no one was standing in the window. The street outside was mostly empty. Strange. He had sensed something watching him. Curiosity got the better of Sam and he stood up quickly, almost knocking his coffee mug off the table. “Sam,” Mary looked alarmed. “What is going on?” “Stay here, Mary. I’ll be back shortly.” Sam swung the café door open and glanced left and right up and down the cobblestone street. The brightly colored shops had very little customers at that time of day and the constant thrumming of the rain on the cobblestones

drowned out most city sounds. Sam had forgotten to take a hat with him and the rain soaked into his brown hair quickly, chilling his head. He wore a leather jacket that did a wonderful job of protecting his clothes from the rain. Just then, Sam noticed something or someone dart into an alley between a small bakery and a candle-making shop. Feeling the gun under his belt to make sure it was still there, Sam dashed toward the alley. He had had enough experience dealing with sleuthing to know that not taking action when action was required brought consequences. Once he reached the alley, Sam moved cautiously, pistol in hand. Splash. Something landed in a puddle at the far end of the alley. Sam’s eyes snapped toward the far end in time to see the hem of a greatcoat slip around the corner to the left. That was certainly a person. Sam rushed toward the far end guessing that the person fleeing was certainly aware he was being chased. His heart pounded faster, like a drum. What lay around the corner could be anything. A gun. A steep pipe. A knife. I have to be cautious, Sam told himself. He forced himself to slow down as the neared the end of the alley. It was hard to be quiet with all the puddles and trash that littered the walkway. With his Enfield revolver in his right hand, aimed toward the left corner, Sam tentatively crept around the corner. He was looking into a wide street. More shops, warehouses, and brick buildings lined the opposite side. Sam couldn’t see anyone or thing out of the ordinary. A few people slowly walked along the side of the street. A couple horse-drawn wagons carrying barrels of salt and wooden crates clopped past Sam on their way to a store or storage building of some kind. The trail was getting colder. Where could the spy have gone? Sam slowly turned his head from the left to the right, his eyes scanning the streets, doorways, and alleys. He narrowed his eyes and squinted at a tall wooden fence that ran between two large brick buildings. A gate in the fence was open and swinging back and forth in a slight breeze. It appeared to Sam that someone had passed through it recently. He didn’t want to leave Mary alone at the Café, but he didn’t want whoever was spying on them to escape. The spy could provide some much-needed information, such as who he is working for. Sam hurried across the street and through the large gate. The grassy alley between the two buildings was littered with wooden boxes and old handyman tools: rusted hammers, pliers, nails, and screwdrivers. The building to his left had a boarded up window and a doorway beside it. Broken glass clustered near the window on the weed-infested lawn. The far end of the alley ended in a brick wall. To his right, the second brick building

showed similar age and disrepair. A single blue door with peeling paint interrupted the monotony of the brick wall. The question was which direction had the spy escaped to in such short time. Sam tried the door knob of the blue door. It was locked. Hurrying over to the opposite building, he tried its door. The knob turned. Next, he gazed quickly at the wall, guessing how high it was. It must be at least ten feet high, Sam thought. That’s too high to jump over. Sam couldn’t see any object to use as step ladder to gain some altitude for jumping over the wall. Sam rushed over to the door near the boarded up window, and, with a pounding heart and a tight grip on his pistol, he shoved the door open, sending a sharp squeak into the interior. The room was cluttered with boxes, work benches, cabinets, tools, and junk. Old newspapers cluttered the floor and bore a number of footprints. Sam noticed a set of widely-spaced footprints crossing over several yards of newspaper. Such widely-spaced tracks could only have come from someone who was taking long, long strides, or from someone who was running fast. Sam cautiously scanned across the room looking for any sign of a human presence before cautiously walking beside the footprints in question. In a short time, they reached a crude, wooden staircase that ascended to the second floor. Sam could see fine in the dim light that came through small windows in the brick building, but the floor above appeared to be in darkness. Sucking in a deep breath, Sam quietly started to ascend the staircase. The wood creaked under his feet with each step, announcing his presence to anyone who might be within earshot. Sam paused when he was a few steps from the top and listened. The building was quiet, deathly still. It appeared to have not been used in some months. Through the hole in the floor above, Sam could see darkness that seemed to absorb light like a sponge. A chill when up Sam’s spine. Should he continue? He didn’t know what awaited him, but he didn’t want to lose a possible lead. With a much resolve as he could muster, Sam continued up the last few steps and entered a hallway that was barely identifiable by the dim light coming through the stairwell. Sam reached into an inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a box of matches. Once it was lit, he returned the box and retrieved the candle that he still kept in a large pocket in the front of the jacket. The feeble, flickering light from the candle, was enough to reveal his surroundings. The hallway ended in a door. Two doors in each wall of the hallway provided an additional four options. Sam stood and listened. The building was perfectly still. Sam reached for the nearest doorknob and opened the door. An office appeared in his candle flame, empty and cluttered. A tall candle in a metal holder and a kerosene lamp rested

on a desk which was covered with dust and candle wax. A chair with a broken leg lay upturned on the floor. Someone had ransacked the place a long time ago. Sam lit the candle on the desk, blew out his own candle, and reached toward a drawer under the desktop. A board creaked behind Sam and he wheeled around just in time to see a man lunging toward him with a large knife that sparkled in the candle light.

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Mary grabbed her purse and stood. Sam had just hurried out of the café only moments ago for no reason and no explanation. She was concerned, but also excited. He had seen something to catch his attention. “Gehst du schon?” Are you leaving already? The café owner asked. Mary turned as she was walking toward the door. “Ich muss. Ich mag Ihren Kaffee. Wenn ich wieder hierher kommen irgendwann werde ich sicher sein, um Ihr Café zurückzukehren.” I need to. I like your coffee. If I come back here sometime I will be sure to return to your cafe. Before the man could flirt with her any more, she left, closing the door. She needed to find Sam. Mary’s eyes darted back and forth along the street. Suddenly, she caught sight of a man who looked like Sam darting into an alley, running at breakneck speed. That has to be Sam. She had learned about the necessity of self defense from her father and had gained some skills and some weapons since her last adventure with Sam. Mary reached into her purse and pulled out shiny object. Pulling her long dress above the ground a few inches, Mary ran as best as she could in a dress, in pursuit of Sam and whoever Sam was chasing.

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Sam swung his left arm to block the hand holding the lunging knife. His block was strong and it dislodged the knife from the assailant’s hand, sending it flying. The knife lodged in the wall with a thump. The desk candle light gleamed off its razor-sharp blade. Before Sam could bring the gun toward the assailant, he knocked it from his hand. The attacker was no novice to street fighting, but Sam had learned some moves since his first adventure and had honed his skills a little. The man was muscular and fast, but Sam blocked his swings well, deflecting several powerful strikes that would have caused him a lot of pain if they had

landed. The man aimed a punched toward Sam’s chest suddenly, and Sam reacted quickly, knocking the attacker’s arm out of the way with his left arm before slamming his fist into the attacker’s jaw. The man was dazed slightly, but he quickly recovered. But, not before Sam shot a punch toward his stomach. The man deflected it and suddenly caught Sam’s arm in a steel grip. Before Sam knew what had happened, the man twisted Sam’s arm around, pinning it behind his back in a painful vice. He kicked Sam in the back, causing waves of pain to shoot up his trunk. “You are good, but not good enough,” the thug said gloatingly with a German accent. “Who are you?” Sam asked, breathing hard. “Your worst nightmare,” the man replied with a sneer. “And what is that?” Sam asked, trying to calm himself and think. The assailant had short, black hair, long sideburns, pale skin, and a long, ugly scar above his left eye. His eyes were hidden in shadow and Sam couldn’t tell what color they were, but at the moment, he couldn’t see the man’s face. To complete his sinister appearance, the attacker wore a long, black greatcoat. Stale breath that smelled like something dead breathed on Sam’s neck as the man said, “Europe shall be transformed. The grim reaper shall come to Europe and give the peons a special surprise.” “I heard that your masters, the cabal, are intimidating people in positions of power,” Sam said, trying to delay the man from killing him, which he was certain to do. “What King Oscar told you is months old. We are beyond that point now,” the assailant said coldly. “You are?” “Yes. We are amassing an army which shad tread down any who come against us. Nothing in Europe will be able to stop it. We have seen to that. Your country will be next.” “And, where will you get this army from? You can’t just come up with recruits that quickly.” “This is a work that has been in progress for generations, Mr. Wallis.”Sam was startled, but not too surprised to hear the man use his name. “Are you panning on doing what Napoleon did and conquer all of Europe?” The man laughed. “Napoleon was a fool who used primitive tactics and primitive weapons for his conquest. You do not understand. We will conquer Europe not only overtly, but also covertly.” “How do you mean?” Sam asked, waiting for a moment in which he could break free. At the same time, he was genuinely interested.

“You know nothing of European politics, Mr. Wallis. In your country you vote, but in Europe you obey the orders of those over you who have been appointed by the monarchy. And, those in the monarchy answer to us.” The man pulled Sam’s arm up, sending jolts of pain down his arm and spine. Suddenly, the assailant released Sam’s arm. Before Sam could enjoy the relief, a boot slammed into his back, knocking him onto the floor. A clicking sound came from a few feet above Sam’s head. A pistol hammer was poised to strike. “You know, of course, that none of this information can leave this office. I will have to release you to your fate, Samuel Wallis. Goodbye.” A loud shot rang out through the room, echoing off the walls. Sam tensed. A body slumped over beside him: the body of the assailant! What? From his position on the floor, Sam’s eyes looked around the dark room. The candle had gone out, suddenly, leaving the room in total darkness. Sam had been spared a sudden death, but who killed the assailant?

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“Mr. Wallis,” a baritone voice said from the darkness. “You just escaped death. Congratulations. What are you doing up here?” Samuel stood to his feet. “Thank you for saving my life, but who are you?” “Bjord. I work for King Oscar the Second,” Bjord said. “Do you not remember?” Sam’s memory clicked. He had met Bjord and Ansgar on the ship. They were agents of King Oscar II. Sparks flew and a match head popped to life, revealing a whiskered face in the dim light. A blonde mustache, blond sideburns, and blond hair parted on the side framed a stern face that peered at Sam with suspicion. “So, what led you here?” Bjord asked again. Sam cleared his throat. “Could we talk somewhere else? First, I need to take a look at my attacker.” Bjord nodded and left the room for some reason. While he was gone, Sam lit a match, relit his candle, and bend over the corpse. He had dark eyebrows, short, dark hair, and long sideburns. His lifeless, grey eyes were locked in position, staring as if they were looking at some distant point. An ugly scar formed a second eyebrow over his left eye. Sam searched through the attacker’s black greatcoat and found some papers, which he shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. The man had a small notebook with a pencil, a few maps, a compass, a derringer, a concealed holster with an M1870 Gasser revolver, and a variety of passports from different European countries. Sam started to fill his pockets with the papers and passports and the notebook.

Heavy steps approached him from behind. “What are you doing?” “Collecting some essentials,” Sam said vaguely. “Mr. Wallis, it is my duty to examine the possessions.” “And, if your king wants me to help you find Prospereau, you will allow me to do some sleuthing as well,” Sam said with an edge to his voice. He didn’t liked to have competition, but he would not let examining the clues only be left to someone he didn’t know. “Very well, but we must examine the evidence too,” Bjord said reluctantly. A short while later, Sam and Bjord exited the building, entering the grassy alley. “Sam,” a voice said from his right, startling him, “there you are.” Mary walked from the street and hurried through the fence toward the grassy alley between the two brick buildings. “I was following you, but lost track. Are you okay?” “I had a brush with a deadly thug, but I’m okay now.” “What do you mean? You fought with someone?” “Yes. I almost defeated him, but he got the upper hand. Bjord saved my life.” “Ms. Kirsch, please let me talk with Mr. Wallis privately,” Bjord said politely as he placed a hand on Sam’s back and guided him back into the first floor of the brick building. After he shut the door, Bjord turned to Sam and frowned, shaking his head. “Mr. Wallis,” Bjord said angrily, “what you did just a few moments ago was absolutely foolish. You went into an unknown area with no support, no assistance. You would be dead right now if I hadn’t saved your life. You must never do that again! Never! Do you understand? You are putting your own life and other people’s lives unnecessarily at risk. You will endanger this group with your reckless behavior and you will compromise our mission. I will have you removed from this group should anything like this ever happen again. Do you understand?” Sam nodded. He felt like a little kid again. Bjord, who was a good three inches taller, and who had a muscular build, was intimidating, but Sam refused to be intimidated. He had been bullied at school and he knew how to handle himself. Sam stepped closer to Bjord and looked him in the eye. “Apprehending an enemy spy who was carrying information of our whereabouts may be dangerous, but it is necessary. Your job is risky. Life is full of risk and danger. Would you rather have the spy notify his superiors of our whereabouts?” Bjord’s frown didn’t disappear, but he back away slightly, surprised at Sam’s boldness. “Just don’t do it again unless you have someone with you to support you.”

“If someone is available to support me, I will get their help,” Sam said without changing his tone. Bjord opened the door and left and a moment later, Sam followed. Mary approached Sam. “Tell me what happened.” Sam was about to tell her “later”, but seeing her curious expression, he decided to explain everything that had happen since he had left her at the café. When he was finished, she squared her jaw. “We need to learn what this spy knows and find where his lair is located.” “I have his documents right here.” Sam patted his pockets.

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Standing around a small table in Sam’s hotel room, Bjord, Andrew, John, Mary, and Sam pored over the considerable number of documents Sam had found in the spy’s greatcoat and trouser pockets. The M1870 Gasser revolver and the tiny derringer lay on the bed along with their holsters and a sheathed knife that that spy had used in the fight with Sam. The curtains were drawn over the casement window, shutting out the afternoon sunlight. Two beds rested against the wall on either side of the casement window. Ansgar was doing some sleuthing around the town and had remained absent much of the time since they had first arrived at the port. The rest of the team was crowded around the table leafing through maps, diagrams, notes, train ticket stubs, news paper clippings, and passports. A sniffing from John’s nose, a crinkling of old papers under clutching fingers, and the muffled sounds of people talking in the hallway outside the hotel room reached Sam’s ears, but he paid no attention to them, his mind focused on the task at hand. He was examining the spy’s notebook, carefully flipping the pages as he glanced through them. A newspaper clipping nestled between two pages caught Sam’s eye and he scanned over it briefly. According to the clipping, last week, a powerful earthquake had hit northern Russia where quakes very seldom occur. People for more than thirty miles around the quake center watched their dishes crash and windows rattle as the quake shook their homes. That’s odd, Sam thought, why would the spy include that clipping in his notebook? He turned his attention back to the notebook and continued flipping through the pages. The writing was in German, but a number of interesting diagrams scattered throughout the pages drew Sam’s eyes. Sam noticed a section of pages that contained sketches of faces. Most of them were men. The drawings were fairly decent and appeared to be done by a man with artistic skills,

presumably the spy. One drawing of a man’s face drew Sam’s attention like a magnet. It couldn’t be! It was his grandfather. The drawing was of a man with a white beard and hair who looked remarkably similar to J.B. Wallis. “Grandpa, you need to see this,” Sam said as he scanned down the page at the German words. He noticed a caption under the face: “Dies ist Johann Wallis, unser Todfeind.” “What?” John asked, looking up from the map he was studying. Sam held the notebook open with his thumb between the pages, pointing to the drawing. John studied it for a few seconds before his eyebrows rose. He took the book from Sam and frowned, muttering under his breath. Mary turned toward John and gave Sam a curious look. “What does it say, grandpa?” Sam asked John. “Son, it is a description of me including where I was last seen, what I was doing, what my occupation is, my achievements, my connections to King Oscar II… I can’t believe this. They even have a section detailing my personality. This is outrageous. Who would go to such lengths to know so much about me?” “That is the cabal’s modus operandi, Mr. Wallis,” Bjord told John as he set down a document he had been studying. “They learn all they can about their enemies. Notice the words under your picture. ‘Dies ist Johann Wallis, unser Todfeind’ means ‘This is John Wallis, our mortal enemy.’ They will not stop until they have rid Europe, and America, of individual who opposes them.” Sam found one of the maps which had been left under the small pile. He slipped it out while Bjord was talking and started to unfold it. Without warning, an envelope slipped from one of the folds and landed on the floor. Sam retrieved it and noticed that it had been opened with a sharp blade along the top edge. He reached inside and pulled out a letter written in German. On the top right corner was an red ink stamp depicting an image of a dragon rampant similar to the dragons seen on coats of arms. The dragon rampant was blowing fire from its mouth and stood on its hind legs. It had a leering, reptilian look in its eyes. Featuring scales, sharp claws, and a coiled tail, the creature was a sinister emblem. Sam turned his attention to the letter body. It was written in German and appeared to have been crafted with a fountain pen. “Mary,” Sam said, tapping her on the shoulder. “Yes?” She looked up, blinking to adjust her eyes. “Can you read German?” Sam asked. “I can, but not very well,” She replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “What does this say?” Mary took the envelope and held it up to the gas light in the ceiling. “It says: ‘Mr. Houk,

Your assignment has changed. You are no longer required to track and monitor the duke of Belgium. We have a new enemy in our sights: a most vile and dangerous foe. Using contacts that we have in the various governments of Europe, you will have immunity to be able to track down and eradicate this enemy. The scientist, Schnörkelheim, is working like an ox along with his team. He will soon have finished the designs for a new weapon. Our covert factories are working overtime to create our vast new fighting force, Eisen-Tod.’” Mary paused her reading and placed her finger on the word Eisen-Tod. “I think Eisen-Tod means ‘Iron Death’. That is a strange name for a military.”

She continued translating, “John Byron Wallis must be stopped. He is a powerful man with much wealth. Unlike most millionaires, Wallis does not flaunt his wealth. He travels a lot and is accustomed to staying in second class or even third class rooms. Do not underestimate him. He has escaped the hand of assassins before. Put him down as quietly and as quickly as you can. We are counting on you. If you fail us, you shall surely meet a very gruesome end. Signed, Eidolon”

Mary squinted at the lower portion of the letter and wrinkled her brow. “What is it?” Sam asked. Everyone in the room was looking at Mary. They had temporarily lost interest in the documents they had been perusing. “There is something else,” Mary said after a moment or two of studying the paper sheet. “I can see a sentence written in very small font. I can’t read it.” “Let me see if I can,” John said, stretching out his hand to Mary. She handed it to him reluctantly. “It is written in Latin,” John said with a sniff. “Ordo ab chao.” He said each word slowly and carefully as if he had just bitten off more than he could chew. “What does that mean?” Mary asked. “Order from chaos, Ms. Kirsch,” Bjord said as blandly as if he had had just read a financial statistic. “Or, it could be translated as, ‘Order as a byproduct of chaos,’” John added. “In other words, chaos can be used to create order. It is a motto of the 33rd degree Scottish rite freemasons. One can only create a new order of things when one has upset the established order. I was formerly part of a secret order known as the Order of Pyramis. ‘Ordo ab Chao’ happened to be one of our

mottos. The correlating motto of my previous order was, ‘Novus Ordo Seclorum’ which could be translated as, ‘New Secular Order’.” “What is this new secular order?” Sam asked, curious. Before John could respond, a knock came at the door of the hotel room.

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Chapter 3

“Who’s at the door?” John asked loudly, cupping his hand over his mouth. “Hier spricht die Polizei. Eröffnen.” This is the police. Open up. A gruff voice called through the door, muffled by the wood. Sam’s heart leapt in his chest. Had the police been notified about a gunshot near the waterfront section of the town? They couldn’t have found a body because Bjord and Andrew had hidden it under a pile of junk in the abandoned building where the fight had happened. Bjord told the team that he would request agents working for King Oscar II to dispose of the body in a very inconspicuous manner. They didn’t want the German police involved since the police were infiltrated by agents from the cabal, who the dead spy, Houk, worked for. Frantically, Andrew, Sam, John, and Mary collected papers and hurried into the kitchen area, out of sight of the door. Bjord approached the door and opened it to a muscular policeman wearing a shiny black pickelhaube helmet with a short silver spike on top. His black mustache was waxed to form two upturned ends and matched precisely with his thick eyebrows that were similarly upturned. Dark, beady eyes scrutinized Bjord with intensity. He pulled a notebook from a pocket on his black, double-breasted uniform and slipped out a pencil from the same pocket. “Ich bin Offizier Dietrich von der städtischen Polizei.” I am Officer Dietrich from the municipal police. The policeman said, tilting his chin up in an imperious posture. Officer Dietrich reached into an outer pocked of his jacket and withdrew from it a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, he held up an artist’s depiction of a 70-year-old man with white hair and a beard. At the top of the page a caption in bold letters read: Gesuchter Mann: Gefährlicher Verbrecher. Wanted Man: Dangerous Criminal. Under the drawing of the bearded man was a name: John Byron Wallis. He looked at Bjord for a few seconds before asking in German, “Have any of you seen a sixty year old man with white hair and a white beard? He is of a medium stature. He is named John Wallis. He was last seen departing a ship, the Hav Maskstav, at the harbor.”

The policeman handed the paper to Bjord. Hearing his grandfather’s name mentioned sent chills down Sam’s spine as he listened from the safety of the kitchen. So, the German authorities were hunting down his grandfather, in addition to the cabal. Or, they were hunting down John because of the cabal. John exchanged glances with Andrew as they listened while Mary squeezed Sam’s hand for reassurance. Mary was a very independent woman who could take care of herself, but she found comfort and stability in Sam. Sam moved her hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. Sam leaned close to her ear and whispered, “No matter what happens, I’m not going to let anything bad befall to you.” She smiled at him, blushing slightly. “You really know how to make a woman feel special.” “We are notifying every foreign visitor of this criminal. As you travel through the German Empire, you should see more wanted posters publicly displayed. If you see this man, please promptly report him to the nearest police station,” the Prussian policeman said, holding Bjord’s gaze for a moment before turning and striding on down the hallway. Bjord sighed and shut the door. “They must have spies everywhere it seems,” Sam said as he stepped out of the kitchen. Bjord was silent, biting his lower lip in deep thought. “We are going to have to move soon,” Andrew suggested. “Let’s compare notes,” Sam said as he shuffled through some papers. “Do any of the documents taken from the corpse give us clues as to where Prospereau was taken?” “This may be of help,” John said as he approached the table and spread a map across it. Sam and the others drew near, curious as to what John had found. Spread out before them was a map of the German Empire and all the countries surrounding it including Denmark to the north, the Netherlands to the northwest, Belgium and France to the west, Switzerland to the south, the Austro-Hungarian Empire to the southeast, and the Russian Empire to the east. A number of cities and towns were circled in red ink. Beside each town was scrawled a number, in large font, ranging from 1 to 15. A small notation, in German, lay on the opposite side of each circled town. John pointed at a circled city marked “1”. Opposite the 1, a small notation appeared. He cleared his throat before saying, “This is the first location. It is the small town of Oberhof, located in the Austro-Hungarian Alps. The second is Frankfurt. The third is Paris.” John looked up from the map. “I am guessing that someone was being tracked

leaving Oberhof, Austria. They were then seen in Frankfurt, and so on. I have never been to Oberhof or Frankfurt, so this map is not following my trail of breadcrumbs.” “It is a map of Prospereau’s travels!” Mary exclaimed. She pointed at Oberhof. “This was the first location Prospereau was seen at by the cabal’s spies.” Tracing her finger to Frankfurt, she said, “He arrived at Frankfurt, and then probably took a train to Paris after spending three weeks in Frankfurt.” “How do you know?” Sam asked. Mary pointed at the small notation scrawled beside Frankfurt, opposite the number “2”. “In English it reads as, “(January the third) The subject arrived in Frankfurt after leaving Oberhof. (January the twenty-fourth) The subject left Frankfurt for Paris.(March the first) The subject returned to Frankfurt after spending two months in Paris.” Mary paused. “Should I read more?” “But, what happened after Prospereau arrived at Munich?” Sam asked, trying to get to the bottom line. He didn’t want to wade through all the details. Andrew had been studying the map while the others talked. “Folks, I think I found the answer to your question,” Andrew said cheerfully. All eyes locked on him. Andrew let his eyes move from one person to the next as he explained, “Munich was the last known location of Prospereau Schnörkelheim, but it does not have the largest number beside it. The notation next to Munich says in English that the subject was apprehended in Munich and taken aboard a special (or privately reserved train). Munich is labeled “14” but Bruck an der Mur, Austria is labeled “15”. That is the highest number on this map as far as I can see. So, our scientist must be in the town of Bruck an der Mur.” “Your logic appears to be good,” John said, approvingly. “Bruck it is,” Mary added. Sam noticed that Bjord was silently chewing on his lip and staring at the map as if he were looking at a distant object. Sam frowned, wondering what was wrong with Bjord, but he didn’t feel comfortable asking him.

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Steam exhaled from the pistons in a hot, misty breath as the train engine came to a stop before the Salzburg Central Station. It had traveled through the scenic German countryside within the territory of the German Empire and had crossed the border into Austria-Hungary with no problems.

Once the large, iron wheels had come to a complete stop, the passengers of the 20-car-long train began pouring out, filling the train station with scores of people. Rich gentlemen and women in fine clothes walked with their chins held high while their servants followed behind with their luggage. Middle class people strode from their cars with less regal bearing. Boys and girls hopped and skipped, glad to be able to stretch their legs. Among the crowd were railroad employees unloading the baggage car and putting the large trunks and boxes on carts which they brought into the station. Sam and Mary walked together through the crowds, heading for the main entrance to the station. Leaving their luggage in the care of Bjord, Ansgard, John, and Andrew, they sought to get away from all the crowds and enjoy a walk together alone. Sam had informed the others about their intentions and John Wallis had told them to be back in forty minutes with a twinkle in his eyes. Sam had the feeling that his grandfather knew that Sam and Mary were in love, but Sam didn’t want to tell Mary about it just yet. She was a beautiful girl, and seemed to be just the right one for him, but Sam didn’t want to fall in love with her just yet. He had to keep his wits about him, especially on this quest. Honed detective skills were essential for success and he could not let a girl get him distracted from the task at hand. Sam told himself that the reason he had asked Mary to join him on a walk was to catch a bit of fresh air. Mary looked at Sam as she walked beside him. “What’s troubling you?” Sam turned toward her and allowed himself to smile. “Why do you ask that?” “You look troubled. You can tell me. You know you can trust me, Sam.” Sam sighed slightly. “I guess…” He didn’t know how to form his words. He could feel something toward Mary that he wasn’t comfortable talking about. He had a crush on a girl in his high school years and he talked to her once in a while, but the relationship went nowhere. Sam admitted that his shyness didn’t help, but he felt that he had somehow failed as a man. After that first relationship, Sam had withdrawn into himself and had not tried to pursue anyone…that was, until Mary showed up. As he got to know her over the past couple years, he started to really like her as a friend. He fought within himself over whether he should continue their friendship the way it was or whether he should seek to get married to her. “You guess what?” Mary looked at him with concern. “I…” Sam said awkwardly, “I love you, Mary.” She smiled and blushed slightly. “I love you too, Sam.” Sam was thinking of saying more, but he restrained himself and changed track. “Would you like to get a morsel to eat?” Looking at Sam with a slightly confused expression, Mary said, “That would be great.” Seated across from each other at a small table outside a café, Sam munched on

a piece of schnitzel, a bread-encrusted, fried piece of chicken while Mary daintily chewed her schnitzel. She looked at Sam from time to time, smiling while she ate. After a few minutes of eating in silence, Mary said, “Sam, what is your favorite German dish?” Sam thought for a moment. “I’d say the schlachteplatte we had in Nuremberg was the best breakfast dish I’ve dined on in a long time. How about you?” “The gaisburger marsch dish was excellent,” Mary said before taking a small bite from her schnitzel. They talked a few more minutes about food and then Sam set down his fork and took Mary’s hand in his. “Mary, what I said to you some minutes ago…I feel foolish about saying it the way I did, but I cannot contain my feelings for you any longer. Mary, I want you to know that every day now since the time we first met, you have been on my mind. And I have been thinking more frequently about you for the last few months. You’re name is etched into my heart indelibly.” Nervously, Sam reached into an inner pocket of his brown leather jacket and pulled out a small, black box. Gently, he flipped the lid open to reveal a sparkling object within. Sam pulled the diamond-tipped ring from the box and bent down on one knee before Mary. “Mary, I offer this engagement ring as a token of my love for you. With all my heart I will do all within my power to serve you and love you all the days of my life. Will you have me to be your husband?” Mary blushed some more, her cheeks deepening into a rose-color. “Sam, this is a surprise,” Mary said blinking her eyes. “I need time to consider, to think, and to pray about this.” When Sam heard those words, his heart sank. She doesn’t want to marry me, he thought. I’ve been spending more time with her over the past few years. We’ve written frequently. Why does she not want to marry me? Am I not a worthy man? Or, she just needs time to ponder the request. Sam sighed heavily as he considered the last thought. “Sam, I love you, but I need time to think and pray. I need to ask God what his will is for my life.” Sam believed that God exists, but the idea that God is someone actively involved in the lives of his people was preposterous to him. Mary had told him about Jesus Christ being sent to die for his sins, but what sins did Sam need to repent from? He had never committed murder, theft, rape, adultery, or revelry. He had lived a very upright life, attending church services from time to time. He didn’t curse or utter coarse language, unless he was very angry. Why would he need to get saved through Jesus? Sam dismissed the thought that Hell was for those who never knew Jesus

Christ, as a preacher once said from the pulpit. He was a good person and God would see his heart and let him enter Heaven. Sam returned his attention to Mary. “Take all the time you need, Mary. I will be content to wait.” “We should probably start back toward the station,” Mary said casually. Sam nodded, forcing himself to calm his feelings. The time allotted to them was almost gone. The trail of clues would get cold if the search for Prospereau was delayed too long.

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The small team emerged from the Bruck an der Mur Central Station carrying their trunks and suitcases and stopped at the curb of the cobblestone road on which a few horse-drawn carriages, wagons, and coaches were traveling. Tall, colorful, multi-storied shops rose high above, framed against the distant, forested mountains of the Austrian Alps. The Fall sky was bright and blue, clear of any clouds and gave the town a cheerful mood. A few dozen locals were strolling down the sidewalks at various paces, depending on how rushed they were. Bruck an der Mur was an industrial town situated at the intersection of the Mur and Mürz rivers. A small town of not more than ten thousand, Bruck an der Mur was a strange place for a mad scientist to visit. The small group looked around, hoping to see a hotel within walking distance. Mary spotted one first and pointed down the street. “There is one over there.” Sam stepped near her to see from her perspective. A wooden sign with a painting of a forested mountain proudly displayed the title “Das Berggasthaus”. As they walked toward the inn, Sam felt that something was not right. Why would Prospereau travel to a tiny blue-collar town in the middle of the Austrian Alps after working for the French? What business would he find here? When they reached the hotel, Sam waited for Andrew, John, and Ansgard to make reservations. After they had finished and had gone up to their rooms, Sam approached the concierge at the main desk. He was a burley man with a clean-shaven face. His dark hair was parted in the middle, matching his black vest and bow tie. “Entschuldigen Sie mich. Ich werde bald zurück sein,” the man said before leaving the desk and entering a narrow hallway. Mary had ascended a set of stairs that led to the upper stories and Sam was alone. The lobby was warm and cozy, covered with a hardwood floor. The walls displayed rich paintings of alpine landscapes and rushing rivers. A stuffed deer head protruded from the wall high above. Crackling away in a corner hearth, a

warm fire eat away at the logs within like a hungry child that could never be satisfied. A bear rug was spread across the floor near the fireplace and a table laden with various periodicals and newspapers rested upon it. Sam could see through the double hung windows the street outside. A wagon had pulled up and the driver and a passenger had dismounted from the front end bench seat. A black cloth tarp was spread over a number of solid objects, concealing them from view. “Entschuldigen Sie, Sir. Sie hatte eine Frage?” the concierge / inn keeper asked from behind Sam, standing beside the concierge desk. Sam turned to face him. “I don’t know much German. Ich spreche kein Deutsch. That’s all I know in German.” The inn keeper chuckled. “I speak some English, but not much. How can I be of help?” “Do you know of any scientific laboratories,” Sam asked, “or any other similar institutions in the nearby area?” “Sch-sss-sci-en-ti-fic la-bor-tor-ies,” the man said, trying to pronounce the word. “I have not heard of such things. What do you speak of?” “Do you have any places where people work with chemicals?” Sam asked as he held imaginary flasks in his hands and pretended to mix chemicals together. “Oh, no. We do not have wissenschaftlichen Laboratorien. Nine. We do not. You ask strange questions. Where are you from?” “America,” Sam said before puckering his lips in thought. “America,” the concierge echoed. “You’ve had a long journey, my friend. What business brings you to Austria? Hmm? You have friends in Austria?” Sam shook his head. “You don’t want to travel too much into our country. Nine,” the burly man said as he leaned over the counter top. “Bad things happen to those who do. Strange things happen to the wondering traveler, I hear. Rumor has it that strangers who go deep into the mountains disappear, never to be seen again. You would be wise to return to your country before anything should happen. Ja.” “What kind of things are you speaking of?” Sam wondered. “There are more and more Erdbeben happening than ever before. Just look here,” the man said, reaching under his desk. He pulled out a newspaper and waved it at Sam. “According to the paper, a powerful Erdbeben shook up people and broke dishes in a town in northeastern Switzerland, just over the border. One man said it cracked his windows.” “You are talking about an earthquake?” Sam asked. “I don’t know that word.”

“When the ground shakes we call that an earthquake.” “Okay. Well, the paper goes on to say that this quake was stronger than any that happened at that place as far as we can remember.” “That’s strange,” Sam said. “Switzerland doesn’t get a lot of earthquakes does it?” “No, almost never,” the inn keeper said. He bent over the desk and placed his hand over one side of his mouth in a conspiratorial gesture. “Word has it that Odin and Thor have returned,” the inn keeper said in a quieter, conspiratorial voice. “They are living in the Alps and some have seen them in Switzerland. Men have been struck by lighting coming from Thor’s hammer, I tell you. Don’t go too far into the forests. You may never return.” Sam turned away from the desk and silently approached the stairs leading up to the second floor. He returned his gaze to the windows and saw that the wagon was still outside on the side of the street. The black covering had been removed. Black coffins appeared in the mid-day sun. A shudder passed up Sam’s shoulders. He ascended the staircase quickly, leaving the lobby behind. He needed to share this with Mary. He had told her about the earthquakes King Oscar and the news clipping, in the spy’s notebook, had spoken of. Why would earthquakes happen more frequently? Sam wondered.

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“Sam, I don’t know what to make of it,” Mary said after Sam shared the information with her he had gleaned from the inn keeper. “It is all so strange.” Mary looked at Sam with curiosity in her eyes. “What does lightning and earthquakes have to do with our mission?” “Probably nothing,” Sam said. “Perhaps, the inn keeper is just one who enjoys tall tales.” Mary nodded and sipped from her glass. “I like the countryside around here,” she said, changing the subject. “It is so scenic and picturesque, like a painting I remember as a little girl. It hung in our living room and I used to study it with intensity.” Sam chuckled gently. “Children are naturally curious.” “So are you,” Mary said. “I guess.” They were seated across from each other at a table in a restaurant down the street from the inn. As Sam looked into her eyes he felt a small stab of pain or regret that he had not sought to have a deeper relationship with Mary sooner. She was a fun

person to talk with and he enjoyed spending time with her, but his mind was distracted and his thoughts drifted away from their conversation and back to the strange words uttered by the inn keeper. He could not get them out of his mind even if he tried.

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Night descended on the town of Bruck an der Mur like a black quilt. Stars sparkled in the clear alpine air like diamonds spread across a black sea, the mantle of the heavens. A waning gibbous moon hovered over the land like a solemn watcher, gazing down at the Earth. In the distance, a wolf howled mournfully from one of the forested slopes surrounding the town. The town was fast asleep and only the night watchmen were about on their nightly police routes. After spending a day of fruitless inquiry into the whereabouts of Prospereau Schnörkelheim, the team settled down into their hotel rooms and drifted into deep sleep, except for Mary. Sam had informed her of his strange conversation with the inn keeper and of how the man had mentioned about the disappearance of strangers who go too deep into the wilderness. Mary was a little skeptical of such tales of fear, but the mention of someone sighting Odin and Thor in the mountains seemed too much to believe. Sam didn’t seem to think the tales were true, but he did think that they might have a grain of truth behind them. That grain of truth kept Mary awake, thinking. More than three hours had transpired since she had returned with the men from a restaurant and had entered her private hotel room. Alone in the room on her bed, she had been deeply concerned about a number of things that seemed to crowd her head like a pack of mad dogs. Her thoughts became discombobulated and disjointed. She prayed until she finally started to drift into a semi-restful sleep. Her bedroom window faced the front of the hotel and through it voices could be heard. Mary, bleary-eyed, sat up in bed and strained her ears to listen. She got out of bed, wearing a simple green and brown dress that gave her more mobility that her stiff, formal dresses. She wore pajamas to bed in her own home, but preferred to wear ordinary clothes to bed during her travels. She was a woman of action and did not want to be unprepared in case a fire or some other emergency were to happen suddenly. Approaching the window, Mary pulled her hair back and combed it behind her ears with her fingers, brushing loose strands from her face. She peeked through the curtains and saw a sight that caused her to back up and suck in a quick

breath. A wagon had pulled up to the side of the street. Some objects lay on its flat surface, covered by a black tarp. Two men climbed down from the driver’s seat and a third dropped off the back end of the wagon. The third man had a bolt-action rifle of some kind, perhaps a Mauser. He stood guard at the wagon while the other two men walked to the left, toward the side of the hotel. The third man was in shadows, but as the two men came into a patch of moonlight, Mary could see that both were wearing black greatcoats. One man pulled out a truncheon from inside his coat. Mary placed a hand to her mouth and stepped back toward the bed. They must be agents working for the cabal. They intend to kill King Oscar’s team, including her and Sam. Quickly, Mary donned a charcoal-black wool jacket and reached for her suitcase. She groped in the dark, searching for a special, metal object she had decided to carry with her on her travels. At last, her hands clasped around the object, a Smith & Wesson .32 caliber revolver. The revolver was short and perfect for concealing and was a better weapon of self defense than the puny derringers she had looked at. When she bought it from a gun dealer he had asked her why such a pretty lady would want to carry a gun. A pretty lady needs to carry a gun to protect herself from men who might want to take advantage of her, she had thought silently. And, now was the time to put it into use. The floorboards suddenly creaked as footsteps slowly moved down the hallway. Mary tensed, clutching the pistol, wondering what she should do. If she fired the gun, she might miss and hit a sleeping patron in the next room. She had to be sure he was in her sights before she pulled the trigger. Mary cracked the door open a hair and peeked through the gap. Sure enough the two men were slowly moving down the hallway in her direction. One carried a truncheon while the other toted a revolver. Both looked stony-faced and emotionless. The man with the truncheon had a scar that ran from the left side of his mouth down to his chin. His eyes were cold as if they were the eyes of a dead man. The other man had short cropped hair and a goatee on his chin. His eyes did not appear dead, like the other man’s eyes, but something about them scared Mary. They were moving toward the room Sam, Andrew, and John were staying in. The man with the gun stopped and stood at attention, watching for any movement while the other pulled out a lock picking set from an inner pocket and inserted some picks into the keyhole. In half a minute he heard a distinct set of clicks and turned the knob. Just then, the man with the gun turned in Mary’s direction with his heart-chilling eyes and she backed away in fear, lowering the gun. Her hands were shaking while her knees trembled. Could he

have seen her through the crack? Mary quietly approached the window and drew the curtains wide open to let in the moonlight. She looked around the room in search of any place to hide. Just then, she noticed a metal handle floor, gleaming faintly in the blue light. It was attached to a panel. She had never seen it before. Mary hurried over to it and lightly tugged the handle. Thud. The truncheon smacked into someone’s head, knocking them unconscious. She gritted her teeth trying to hold in a scream. The thugs were probably given orders to knock out the men and then take them into the forest where they would kill them. Thud. Thud. The truncheon was again at work, knocking the men into a deeper sleep. The panel budged and Mary pulled harder and slid it quietly away from the square opening. A small, vertical crawl space with a ladder clinging to its side, dropped down into pitch blackness below. Mary hurried over to her suitcase and pulled out a tiny kerosene lantern her father, Andrew, had given her as a birthday present. A wire cage encased the wick which protruded from a square kerosene container at the base. Undoing a clasp, she flipped the small wire cage lid open and struck a match, lighting the wick. She snapped the lid shut over the flame and hurried toward the hole. With the lantern in hand, Mary descended the ladder after having shut the panel. The tiny flame provided enough light for her to see her way down. A short distance down the ladder, her feet reached a solid floor. She had arrived at a small room. Overhead, water and gas pipes ran through holes in walls from left to right. A short doorway in the left wall opened into a spiral stairwell. That was a strange sight to see in a hotel right below the second story. Why would the plans for the hotel include a spiral stairwell and a secret room? Perhaps, the hotel building had been something else at one time. Just then, boards creaked overhead as the men entered her room. The footsteps crossed over to her bed. Mary could hear a muffled voice overhead say something in German that sounded like: “Where is the girl?” Another voice responded, “She must have heard us coming and found a place to hide.” “We’ll search for her later. We need to load the men onto the wagon and be off. She is only a woman and we will have her by tomorrow. She can’t get out of town without one of our agents seeing her.” The men left the room and their footsteps faded away as they returned the way they had come. Mary waited for a few minutes before she returned to the ladder and climbed up the tunnel and reentered her room. Replacing the panel, she blew out her lantern and hurried to the window.

She could see the wagon outside. Two of the three men were shoving a box into place on top of some other boxes. Wait…those were not boxes. Mary placed a hand to her mouth. They were coffins! She gasped. The men replaced the tarp over the coffins and took their places on the wagon: two in front and one in back. The driver, the man with the pistol, flicked the reins and the team of four horses started clopping down the cobblestone street. She couldn’t let them take her dad and Sam to their grave. A feeling swept over Mary’s heart. She loved Sam and the thought of him dying was too much for her. She had to do something even if she could only watch. Putting on her coat, a hat, boots, and gloves, Mary threw her pistol and lantern into her leather purse and hurried out the door and down the hallway, toward the stairs leading down to the lobby. She noticed the hallway that ran through the wall opposite the front entrance. It was the same hallway that Sam had seen the inn keeper enter just the other day. She could see a door at the far end and something told her that this was the best way to exit. She hurried down the narrow corridor, past a number of doors and found the door at the end ajar. The villains probably didn’t bother to check everything before they left. She rushed out into the cold night air and found her cheeks stinking from the cold. Her breath came out in white clouds as she hurried down an alley between the hotel and a tall boarding house. Reaching the street, she found it empty, but far down a wagon was turning to the left at an intersection. She ran after it, hoping to catch sight of it upon reaching the intersection. Thankfully, the wagon was not moving too fast, having a heavy load of precariously-placed coffins containing unconscious men. Mary tried to regulate her breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply to gather as much oxygen as possible with each breath. She tried to ignore the growing fear that she would never seen them again. Her heart pounded with each step as she approached the intersection. She was at the corner of a tall bakery shop. The upper floors contained the living quarters of the owners. She looked to the left, down the intersecting street. The wagon was moved slowly along. Staying in the shadows, Mary jogged to keep up with its pace. Following it this way for more than a mile, Mary was led to an industrial district. Tall brick buildings rose up into the night sky, blotting out some of the stars. Railroad tracks appeared like silver snakes, crisscrossing and overlapping. Resting on the tracks with all its bulky mass, a black steam engine leaked tendrils of smoke from its stack and wisps of vapor from its boiler. The black train engine was shacked up to a number of box cars and flat cars. It seemed to be a sleeping dragon, resting quietly. But, at any moment, it could be woken from its sleep, ready for its next meal.

Mary approached the shadows of an overhanging roof and watched the wagon pulled up beside a box car. Soldiers carrying rifles slung over their shoulders emerged from a nearby building. Atop their heads were short cylindrical hats with short, black visors. Their hands were lazily shoved into deeps pockets of their long, dark green greatcoats. Shiny black jackboots crunched gravel underfoot. “Was ist Ihre Ladung?” What is your cargo? An Austrian soldier asked the man with the revolver. “Leichen.” Corpses. The other replied. “Was ist das Ziel?” What is the destination? The soldier asked. “Lassen Sie mich mit Ihrem Vorgesetzten sprechen.” Let me speak to your superior. The man with the revolver said. The soldier reentered the building came back out a few moments later. The soldier said, “Ich entschuldige mich, Sir. Sie können laden Sie die Särge und werden auf Ihrem Weg.” I apologize, sir. You can load the coffins and be on your way. Without further ado, the men set to work loading the coffins into a boxcar. Mary counted the coffins as they loaded. To her dismay, there were more than ten. Sam, John, Andrew, Bjord, and Ansgard were in five of the ten. Who were in the other five? Corpses, or living people? The door to the boxcar was slammed shut and the soldiers retreated to their building. Mary waited for the opportune moment when no one would be around to see her. With a cough, the black engine started off down the tracks, drawing its cargo behind like an overgrown snake. The cars passed by slowly, but then began to gain speed. If she waited too long, she wouldn’t be able to board the train and she would be left all alone. Seeing no guards or workers around, Mary clutched her purse tightly and dashed toward an empty boxcar with an open door. She threw her purse through the gap and lifted herself deftly through. She stood up and brushed dust from the floor off her dress. The dark interior of the boxcar smelled musty and slightly fetid: the smell of something decaying. She rested her back against the wall of the car and sighed. That was close. If someone had seen her… She didn’t want to think about what would happen. She just wanted to rest. All that running had taken a lot of energy from her. Slowly she started to drift into slumber land, the clickety-clack rhythm of the tracks underneath lulling her into a deep sleep.

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Chapter 4

Mary awoke as her car jerked to a stop. She sat up and looked around in the darkness of the boxcar. The sliding door of the boxcar was still opened and she could see the tracks eighteen feet away. She stood up and approached the door and her eyes traveled from the tracks to the ground beside the boxcar wheels. Like she had suspected, tracks supported the iron wheels. They were on a railroad siding, which paralleled the main tracts. Perhaps, they were waiting for another train coming the opposite direction to pass by before the train could return to the main tracts. Suddenly, a deep groaning sound came from what appeared to be the ground. A humming whine as of pneumatic pistons lifting or lowering came from the ground. What in the world is going on? Mary wondered. A vertical metal surface appeared in the grass as the whole railroad siding started lowering into the earth. The tracts had been constructed in such a way that the siding detached from the main track seamlessly. The vertical metal surface appeared to be a wall of a ditch or trough into which a huge section of the siding was lowering. Soon, the surface of the ground came level with the boxcar floor. Mary looked on, astonished, as the metal wall rose up higher as she descended with the lowering section. The metal wall of the trough now completely blocked out her view and Mary was completely engulfed in darkness. A heavy thump resounded down what sounded like a long tunnel as the

lowering section of the siding came to rest against the floor of the trough. Leaning out through the boxcar door, Mary watched the locomotive belch out black clouds of smoke as it chugged forward, down a set of tracks that disappeared into an expansive, underground tunnel. The headlamp had already been lit and its light was illuminating a few hundred feet of the tunnel. The train accelerated and the wheels started to turn into a blur as the engine regained its momentum, tugging behind it the dozens of cars. She glanced back and saw that the section of the siding was attached to a huge metal base which was rising on massive pistons back toward the hole in the tunnel ceiling. Moving along now at perhaps 50 miles per hour, Mary wondered how she had ever let herself get talked into joining her dad and Sam Wallis on another crazy adventure. She loved adventure, but this was scary. Her father and Sam and the other men were unconscious in coffins, traveling rapidly down a tunnel, beneath the surface of the earth. The people who owned and operated the train most likely worked in cahoots with the mysterious cabal. But, why would they go to all this trouble? If they wanted to kill her dad and friends, why didn’t they do it sooner? Why put them in coffins, on a train that is traveling through a secret underground tunnel?

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Steam, white and hot, shot out from apertures in billowing clouds. The ringing of metal on metal, the groan of giant pistons protesting under heavy burdens, and the hissing of steam being vented filled the air with a factory-like din. A slow, deep, metallic clanking sound ticked away the time in the background. Mary was leaning through the boxcar door and gazing at a bizarre sight. In a huge underground cavern surrounding her were literally thousands of machines at work. Gears turned, pistons pumped, ratchets clanked, steam hissed, and levers rotated. The train had traveled for a couple hours, moving down a gradual slope that caused the train to descend deeper and deeper into the earth. The train had not made any stops even though it appeared that there were sidings with water and coal stations along the way. Before too long, the tunnel opened up into the cavern. Near the center of the cavern was a massive train yard with dozens of crisscrossing tracks and huge buildings for train repair. Outside the complex of train buildings were smaller brick buildings a few stories high. They were clustered in groups of fifty and scattered around the perimeter of the train yard. Beyond these buildings were four edifices made of brick and steel. Complex arrays of gears, levers on rotating wheels, reciprocating armatures, and pistons

sprouted from the sides of these edifices. Huge, gray pipes ran from the flat roofs of these four buildings and connected together into the base of a wider pipe which shot up into the rocky cavern ceiling. Like ants scurrying about with their various tasks, thousands of workers carrying tools, equipment, and wheelbarrows moved from building to building. Some dumped waste into piles while others transported heavy boxes with hand carts. Beyond the four edifices were small communities of apartments huddled together near the edge of the vast cavern. Mary was completely overwhelmed by the incredible size of the cavern, the buildings, and the activities. Mary chewed on her lip as the locomotive rolled toward the massive train yard. Who could possibly maintain such a huge undertaking? And, what are these people producing in this underground lair? Crossing through the maze of rails, the engine tugged Mary through the wide open maw of a colossal building and moved off onto a siding. With a puff of steam, the train crawled to a stop before a slightly raised platform. Taking her purse, Mary dropped to the gravel ballast of the tracks and slipped between the iron wheels, hiding under the boxcar. The gravel was not particularly comfortable, but neither was the prospect of being spotted. The building was lit up with bright lights that were far brighter than any oil lamp she had seen. As she waited under the train car, she noticed that the lights flickered every once in a while, but she could detect no airflow. Strange, Mary thought. A man shouted from some cars down, “Ihr Männer, entladen die Särge. Beeilen Sie sich. Die Gefangenen müssen auf der Verarbeitungsanlage sofort gehen.” You men, unload the coffins. Hurry up. The prisoners need to go to the processing facility immediately. “Ja, mein herr.” Yes, sir. A group of men, probably soldiers, replied in unison. Mary crawled over to one of the boxcar wheels and peeked up at a group of a twenty to thirty soldiers who all wore dark grey, double-breasted greatcoats which came down below their knees. Each man carried a Mauser slung over his shoulder on a sling and wore a spiked pickelhaube helmet which was plated with silver and sparkled in the bright light. Black, shiny jackboots rose up their legs just a few inches shy of their knees. Prussians, Mary thought. Here were some of the most ruthless and most well trained soldiers in Europe. The soldiers slid open a boxcar door, out of Mary’s view, and began transporting the coffins: two soldiers per coffin. They carried them toward a door in a wall eighty feet away. Mary couldn’t let them leave her sight, but she didn’t want to be caught either. What was she supposed to do? As she was wondering what to do, a black boot suddenly crunched into the

gravel in front of her face.

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Blackness. Sam had opened his eyes just a few seconds ago only to find himself in a small, enclosed space with a throbbing pain in his left temple. He tried to sit up, but had bumped against a wooden roof. Strangely, he felt as if he were moving, but how could he be moving? His mind exploded with questions. A few of which struck him like a hammer striking a gong. Where was he? What had happened to the hotel bedroom? Who had put him here? As his mind cleared from sleep, he had noticed the throbbing pain in his left temple as if he had been struck by something hard. He moved his hands toward his body to check himself over. His clothes were intact and it appeared that he had not other injuries. Suddenly, he was slammed against the ground and the wooden roof or lid was removed to reveal harsh lights glaring down at him like miniature suns. He squinted and held up a hand to shield his eyes. Heavy footsteps on concrete approached him and a soldier appeared, looking down at him. The soldier wore a dark gray greatcoat, matching trousers, black boots, and a shiny pickelhaube helmet which was decorated with a sharp spike. He carried a rifle slung over his shoulder on a leather sling. A Prussian. “Sie, steh auf,” the soldier said gruffly. Sam sat up and started to stand to his feet. As he did, the soldier snagged him by the arm and yanked him up, shoving him forward. Sam glanced back and saw that he had been lying down in a crude wooden coffin. They were in a concrete room lit by a strange kind of bright light that emanated from transparent square-shaped boxes in the ceiling. A wooden desk with a frowning, bespectacled clerk sat beside a door across the room. The man wore a short beard and round wireframe glasses and had a dark gray uniform with metals. This had to be an officer in the Prussian military. Sam tried to guess what was happening. Somehow, they must have kidnapped me and taken me to some military base within Germany. That would be a long trip. Was I unconscious all those hours? Perhaps, I was. The soldier shoved him toward the desk. “Name?” the clerk asked. Sam squinted. “You want my name?” The clerk said in English with an annoyed tone, “Your full name, please.” It was more a command than a request. “And, what if I don’t want you to know my name?” The clerk nodded toward the soldier and something hard slammed into Sam’s

back, knocking him onto the cold floor before the desk. The soldier grabbed Sam’s shirt and yanked him up. Now, pain shot through Sam’s back. “You will not talk back!” the soldier barked with a thick German accent. “Your name,” the clerk repeated his question. Something thudded against the ground. Sam didn’t dare look back to see what it was. “Sam. Samuel. Samuel Wallis. What do you want with me?” The man silently jotted something down on a paper form. “Your place of origin?” “You mean my country?” “Tell me where you came from. City, state, and country,” the clerk said coldly. “I am from Kentucky which is located in the United States of America,” Sam said trying to maintain his composure. “Your age?” “Twenty-eight.” The clerk jotted down several long notes before looking up at Sam. His eyes locked onto Sam’s like the eyes an alligator staring at its prey. “You are no longer Samuel Wallis. You are now number 205E. When that number is spoken, you will respond, understood?” Another heavy object thudded against the ground. Sam gulped. What was this place? Would the Prussians really try to capture Americans and turn them into prisoners? “You will not be able to get away with this,” Sam said angrily. “Uncle Sam will get wind of this and you will be sorry you captured his citizens.” The Prussian officer chuckled, breaking his starchy behavior for a moment. “When we get through with you, there will be no United States of America or Uncle Sam. Now, get going.” As the soldier was shoving him toward the door to the left of the desk, Sam glanced back and saw Andrew standing beside a coffin and Bjord being pulled out of another by a soldier. Before he could say anything, the Prussian soldier slammed the door shut behind them and Sam found himself in a concrete tunnel that terminated in a door. Once they reached the door, he was roughly shoved through the door and barely caught himself from breaking his nose against the rocky ground outside the massive train terminal building. When he got to his feet, he brushed himself off and took in his surroundings. Crisscrossing railroad tracks formed a river of steel that ran between the building he left and another megalithic train building. Instead of clumps of green grass and dirt, the ground surrounding the tracks and the buildings was solid rock. How was that possible? Germany or any of the other territories in Germany was not rocky. Not a blade of grass was visible anywhere.

Not only that, but the sky had a very solid look to it. The clouds brooding over the rocky landscape were very strange looking and the stars were way to bright and far apart. Wait. Those are not stars, Sam realized. His mouth dropped open when the true nature of his surroundings dawned on him. Sam was in a vast underground cavern lit up by huge, brilliant ceiling lights. How was this even possible? The echoing throbbing of huge machines, which he had not noticed a few seconds ago now sounded louder as he focused on the ambience. What in the world could this place be? “Stand in a straight line!” a soldier barked. Sam glanced to either side and noticed that Andrew and John had joined him. Their short interviews with the clerk must have been really short. “Andrew, where are we?” Sam whispered. “I don’t know. This is bizarre!” Andrew said, trying to keep his voice down. “Silence! I did not permit you to speak!” the soldier shouted at Andrew and slapped him in the face. After that, Sam didn’t dare to exchange any words with anyone until he was sure it would be safe. In a few moments, Ansgard joined them, but Bjord did not come. The muscular, clean-shaven, blonde-haired Swede was more glum than Sam had ever seen him before. Ansgard, a quiet man of few words, preferred to work alone and Sam had not been able to talk to him much. Sam wanted to ask him what had happened to Bjord, but he dare not say anything when the Prussians were around. The door suddenly swung open behind them and an officer stepped out wearing a peaked cap with an iron cross on the front. Two soldiers accompanied him and stood at either side of him. Wearing gray riding pants, tall black boots, and an impeccable uniform with metals, the Prussian officer strode up to the prisoners and slipped his hand into a pocket of his uniform jacket. He deftly pulled out a monocle and popped in his left eye. “Welcome to Wurzel Anlage, the underground city. This will be your new home for years to come.” He looked each prisoner in the eye as he said, “As you have seen, we do not tolerate any insubordination. Any form of reluctance to work or to obey orders will be met with by severe consequences.” He opened his jacket and pulled out a black and white photograph of a pile of corpses of men and women still wearing their prison uniforms. “You work hard and you will be rewarded,” the officer said sharply. “You do not work hard and you will suffer. Any questions?” Everyone remained silent and Sam bit his lip to keep himself from saying

something foolish. “Good,” the man chuckled. “Now, you will go to your quarters and then you will join the other inmates in having their supper.” Once the officer had passed through the door again, a soldier said, “Get moving, you dogs. Snap to it!” They were herded toward the edge of the massive railway yard and toward a cluster of buildings: a small, hamlet-sized establishment. The hamlet was surrounded by a tall barbwire fence, which appeared to be at least ten feet above the ground. Along the perimeter were twenty-foot-tall wooden guard towers, staffed by two soldiers per tower. On each tower, a Gatling gun was mounted on a stand facing the enclosure. Sam could see the multiple barrels of the Gatling guns poking over the railings of the towers. In a few minutes, they had reached a metal gate guarded by no less than four soldiers, all wearing grim expressions and brandishing long bayonets on their Mausers. The soldiers slid open drawbars on the outside of the large gate and swung the double doors wide open. Nondescript brick buildings three stories high lined either side of the streets. Grim and pain, the structures cast sharply defined shadows in the harsh light from the cavern ceiling above. Moving in and out of the shadows were workers or prisoners wearing light grey uniforms. Each uniform had a patch with their number code sewn onto it. The numbers were displayed on the back, on the left breast pocket, and on either shoulder. The workers were marching in double file lines down the street. From all quarters, the men moved toward one destination with clocklike movements. Sam, John, Andrew, and Ansgard were led toward one of the brick buildings which lay just a stone throw from the main gate. Inside, the soldiers made them take off their trousers and shirts and handed them a uniform shirt with their number patches and light grey uniform trousers. “Change quickly if you want to get any food at the mess hall,” a soldier said half-sarcastically. In a minute or two, the men were ready to go and the soldiers herded them down several intersecting streets toward a large, windowless, one-story building. Lit by the same strange square lights Sam had seen in the train terminal building, the room they had just entered was crowded with long benches and hundreds of men. A long line ran from the door and up to a long counter where chefs served the prisoners small piles of slop, some scraps of mystery meat, and a few withered vegetables. As they waited in line, Sam leaned close to Andrew’s ear. “Where are we?” Andrew shrugged his shoulders as he replied, “It would have to be within a

few hundred miles from the hotel in Bruck an der Mur, Austria. Other than that, I don’t know. Did we go to Germany? Italy? Switzerland? I really can’t say.” “Sam,” John had spoken from behind him. “Yes, Grandpa?” “Sam,” John said, “we are in a place that I only heard rumors about. I didn’t believe them until now.” “What place is that?” Sam was curious. John looked around nervously, making sure no guards were within earshot before he replied, “We are in an underground labor camp. A camp that belongs to the cabal. It is staffed by Prussians, some Dutch, some Austro-Hungarians, Italians, and Eastern Europeans.” Before Sam could ask any more questions, a man in front of Andrew turned around and stared coldly at Sam. “If I were you,” he said icily, “I would keep my mouth shut around here. Talking will only get you into trouble.” Sam felt ice began to crystallize in his heart and his chest tightened. The atmosphere of the room was strangely silent and dead as if no life were to be found in it. Sam noticed for the first time that prisoners seated at the tables were eating their food in silence and with mechanical motions, as if they were automatons. Each prisoner was clean shaven and had his hair cut so short it was almost stubble. Deep circles ringed the eyes and oil and dirt stained their skin and clothes. What had happened to these people? Sam was thinking so deeply that he didn’t notice the sludge that was slopped on a plate and shoved in his direction. “Take it,” the chef snapped. Sam gulped. He thought he saw something moving among the chunks in the grey slop.

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Mary waited until no guards were around before she made her move. Crawling out from beneath the boxcar, she paused on her hands and knees and listened. The concrete islands between the train tracks were vacant, while several of the paralleling tracks hundreds of feet away were occupied by trains. In the distance, a couple soldiers walked toward a door in the side of the far wall. A few moments later, some of the bright lights overhead started shutting off. She was not sure what to do. It appeared that the people were calling it a night and shutting down, but she could only go so far without being detected. She

had to find a place to hide out in. In the morning, the train would probably load up and head out wherever it was to go. She could get back on it and leave without being detected, but she didn’t want to leave her father and Sam behind. Mary prayed for several minutes and then started brainstorming a plan. Fifteen minutes later, she rose to her feet and started off down the tracks, walking beside the train she had caught a ride on. When she reached the locomotive at the front of the train, she veered off and headed toward the wall of the building where she had spotted a door ajar with her keen vision. Soon, she was within ten feet from the door. Praying quickly, Mary took a quick breath and stepped through, hoping no one would see her. The room she found herself in was vacant of people and filled with filing cabinets and a desk pushed up against the concrete wall. Two doors, bordered by cabinets appeared in the wall opposite the door. Both were shut but one was slightly ajar. Mary nudged the ajar door open and looked inside. Some uniform jackets, coats, and uniform dresses were hanging up on a long bar. A few wooden boxes, covered with a thin coating of dust, rested underneath the clothing. She reached for a uniform jacket and held it up to her chest. It seemed to be the right size. She reached for the dress and held it up to her waist. Women must be employed in the Prussian military. They probably served as secretaries and as office workers, but they were employed in the military. Mary shut the door and changed into the uniform. The uniform was starchy and stiff, but it fit her nicely. She folded up her old dress and stuffed it behind one of the boxes in the corner, careful not to touch the dust coating. She didn’t want to betray her presence. Mary couldn’t see any shoes in the closet, but she would have to make do with what she had. She left the closet and left the door ajar the way she had found it. Now, she had to find a place to stay. Mary opened the second door to reveal a short hallway lined with doors. The door at the end drew her interest and she headed to it quickly. It was unlocked, so she tugged it open and closed it behind her. She was outside the building now, looking at the crisscrossing train tracks and the clusters of buildings around the perimeter of the massive train yards and buildings. Not knowing where to go, Mary started walking down the tracks, toward the edge of the yards. She had only gone a couple hundred feet before a voice came to her from the shadow of a building. “Dame wo gehst du hin?” Lady, where are you going? A man asked from the shadows. Startled, Mary turned toward the shadow of a nearby building and saw a glowing orange dot undulating, moving up and down.

Remembering her German, she replied, “Ich bin neu hier. Woher kommen die Frauen bleiben?” I'm new here. Where do the women stay? The orange dot bobbed up and down and a small puff of smoke curled out from a hidden mouth. “Du siehst verloren,” the man replied from the shadows. “Vielleicht möchten Sie bei mir bleiben und ein wenig reden.” You look lost. You might want to stay with me and talk a little. “Sag mir, wo sie bleiben.” Tell me where they stay. Mary said, slightly impatient. “There is an apartment building near the main office,” the man replied in German. “If the clerk is still working, you may talk to her. She will find you a place to stay.” “Thank you,” Mary said, forcing herself to smile. The man suddenly stepped from the shadows with a pleasant grin on his face. He was an officer, not a private like Mary had thought. He wore a peaked cap and clenched a cigar in his mouth. Though slightly muscular, he had an aristocratic bearing and a handsome face, Mary thought. “Allow me to escort you,” the man said smiling. “I forgot to introduce myself. I am Hans von Graf.” Mary smiled and curtsied. “I am Ms. Kirsch.” “May I know your first name, Ms. Kirsch?” Hans von Graf, asked. Mary thought for a moment. Maria would be German for Mary. I guess it would be no harm if I told him my name. There are probably a lot of Maria Kirsch’s in Germany. “Maria,” Mary replied. “I am Maria.” “That's a nice name,” Hans replied as he slipped his arm into Mary’s arm and led the way toward the direction of the main office. “I had an aunt with that name. So, Mary, where are you from?” Mary brainstormed quickly before responding vaguely, “I come from far away.” “Do you live in a quiet hamlet or a large city?” Mary answered quickly, “I traveled a lot until I came here.” “I think you will enjoy it here,” Hans said with a glowing smile. “You will have much work, but we treat our people well. The higher ones have great plans for the peoples of Europe and we are here to see those plans be fulfilled.” Higher ones? Mary thought to herself. Who are they…the cabal? The approached a huge, sprawling, five-storied, gothic-styled granite building. A wrought iron fence surrounded a portion of a large, green lawn which ran up to the edge of the building near the entrance. Mary was surprised to see grass, having only seen rock and concrete everywhere she looked. A water fountain gurgled and splashed as water poured from the spout at the top and ran down

into a series of tiered bird baths. A formal garden with beech, oak, and walnut trees surrounded the building. Dirt must have been hauled in by train. The bright lights above must have been sufficient to maintain the plants’ photosynthesis. Hans approached a gate which lay open. A marble pathway led up to a set of magnificent wooden double doors. Two soldiers standing to either side of the doors, yanked them open and held them for Mary and Hans. Like a gentleman, Hans motioned for Mary to enter first. She stepped into a beautiful lobby with a desk, ivory couches, a hardwood floor, and a fireplace with a lion rug splayed before it. The lion head was snarling at the fire with its teeth perpetually bared. A set of stairs led to the floors above. The desk was empty and no person was in sight, other than the guards at the door, who were shutting them behind her. Hans glanced at the desk. “The clerk must have finished her shift.” Without a word more, he walked up the steps and led Mary down a hall with plush, red carpets and gold-framed paintings of alpine scenes. Dozens of doors lined the hall and Hans moved toward one and knocked. He opened the door after listening for a few seconds. The room inside was dark. Hans stepped inside and reached over to a small, metal knob attached to the wall in a living room area. To Mary’s complete surprise, a light instantly came on, brightly lighting up the living room and an adjoining hallway. The room was sparsely furnished and appeared to have been left alone for some time. A chesterfield couch rested against one wall and a low table stood proudly over a golden carpet, the only furnishings of the room. “This room is not occupied,” Hans explained. “As we bring in more staff, more of these rooms will be occupied. I hope this suits your needs. We will bring in more furniture if you want.” “Danke.” Thank you. Mary replied gratefully. The officer doffed his cap and turned to leave. He stopped just as he reached the door. “Maria, would you like to join me in having breakfast? I can meet you at your room, here.” Mary blushed slightly. This man really liked her. Perhaps, she could learn from him more about the organization and purposes of the activities taking place in the cavern. Then, she may be able to see how she could help Sam, John, her father, and the two Swedes escape. Mary nodded, smiling. “I would be delighted.” “Good. I will see you at eight thirty in the morning.” He turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind him. Mary noticed her heart beating slightly faster than before. She had to put on a

good act and not reveal that she was an American. Mary walked through the hallway and found a bedroom that opened off to the left at the far end. The bed had sheets and blankets nicely tucked in place. An empty dresser rested against the wall nearby. She would have to get some more dresses later, but for now, she would need her sleep. Mary removed her charcoal-black wool coat and placed it in an empty drawer of the dresser. Still wearing her grey uniform, she slipped into the covers and quickly drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.

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Chapter 5

Ting…Ting…Ting. A hammer struck an iron peg, knocking it into a hole in a steel plate. Sam was not very good with his aim and had missed a few times before he could drive the peg into the hole in a four foot by four foot square chunk of iron. A row of holes awaited pegs to be pounded into them. Sam had just reached the halfway point, having pounded in fifteen pegs. “Hurry up, you dogs,” a gruff man said, before snapping a bullwhip over Sam’s head. Sam had felt the horrible sting of that leather coil one time and that one time had reinforced in his mind the need to obey all orders given by the task masters, or slave drivers. After waking up at six in the morning to the sound of a loud, hand-cranked siren, Sam had dropped from his bunk bed and had joined a long queue of prisoners who had glumly marched toward the mess hall. He had only had between four and five hours of actual sleep. Once the meal was complete, a soldier took Andrew, Sam, Ansgard, and a few other men and gave them a team number, number 503. John was assigned to

another group which consisted of older men. Sam’s group was assigned various jobs on assembly lines in building A, one of the four massive factory buildings. Each of the four buildings could easily hold twenty football fields, Sam had been told. They were filled with long assembly lines, massive machines that continuously churned away, complex networks of driving shafts in the ceiling, storage areas, waste areas, repair shops, etc. Huge pipes ran from the four factories into one main massive pipe that connected with the ceiling of the enormous cavern. The pipe traveled up to a well-vented natural cave near the surface of the Earth where the fumes from the underground plants would be dissipated. Other tubes running parallel to the central exhaust tube brought fresh air in from surface caves. Sam had wondered what had happened to Mary. He had not seen her at all since he woke up from unconsciousness only to find himself in a coffin. He was worried about her, but perhaps she had not been kidnapped and was still back in Bruck an der Mur. When the Prussian guard had moved down the assembly line, a large, muscular man with short black hair and a strong jaw looked at Sam from across the table. “When did you arrive?” he asked in English with an Eastern European accent. Like Sam, he was driving iron pegs into metal plates with a hammer. Unlike Sam, he was doing it much faster and with more success. “Just last night,” Sam replied, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “You need to work faster,” the big man said, his eyes darting right and left. “People who don’t work fast enough disappear.” Sam squinted. “Disappear?” “They vanish. Gone. No one hears from them again.” Sam decided he wanted to be friendly and perhaps learn some more information about his surroundings. He set the hammer down and reached across the table toward the large man. “My name is Sam. Samuel Wallis. I’m from America.” The big man studied his outstretched hand for a moment as if he were considering whether or not it would be a good idea. Finally, he reached out and gave Sam a hearty handshake, that left Sam’s hand feeling sore. “I’m Ivan Bolotnikov. Used to be steam locomotive mechanic in Russia. Now, slave in the Wurzel Anlage. I work. The give me food. I work some more. They give me same amount of food. Not good food.” Sam remembered eating something that tasted rubbery. Was it a worm? The thought made him want to puke. “What do they make the food out of?” Sam asked, but then wished he hadn’t. Ivan pounded a few more pegs in to make it look like he was working hard.

But then, he stopped and leaned over toward Sam and said in a low voice, “Food made out of anything. Hog feed. Liver. Old horseflesh. Worms. Maggots. Mush. You name it. They put it in. Cook it. Presto. That’s what you get for being foolish enough to get drunk in Germany. If I ever leave here I will never return to Prussia. Bad food. Bad beer. Bad everything.” “I came from Austria.” Sam asked, “How did you get here?” “I go to bar. Drink too much beer. Fall asleep. Wake up in coffin. Coffin lid opens. I find myself being dragged across a large building. You know what I am saying. I become prisoner.” “Who do you think did this to us?” Sam wondered aloud. “Dirty Prussians. That’s who!” Ivan said, raising his voice slightly. He went back to work, pounding in more pegs. Several yards down the assembly line, Andrew was using a wrench to tighten bolts on a metal plate. Across from him, Ansgard did the same. Andrew gave Sam a look that seemed to say, “You should get back to work. The Prussians might see you.” Sam pounded several more pegs in before his curiosity got the better of him. “Who is in charge of this place?” Ivan ignored him and continued to pound. A Prussian soldier walked past him and smirked at him before moving on down the line, with a whip in hand. When he was gone, Ivan stopped hammering for a moment or two. “You ask many questions. Questions get you in trouble around here.” Sam just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. He could see that the Russian wanted to say more. “I give you answer to your questions, but not now. Now we work.” In the distance, a huge steam-driving piston driving a heavy plate, flattened a blob of orange-glowing, molten steel into a thick sheet. The ambient sound of steam hissing through valves, whips cracking, gears turning, and pistons pumping up and down created a dreary background for a day that seemed to crawl at a snail’s pace. This must be what Hell feels like, he thought.

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Gold chandeliers lit up the luxurious room with brilliant light. Sweeping across the length of the room, a shiny, almost mirror-like marble floor gleamed in the unnaturally brilliant light. Scores of tables with small groups of officers, secretaries, and office workers bubbled with laughter and chatter. Waiters carrying trays laden with delicious meals moved from table to table. Mary had just stepped through a set of oak double doors after walking through a small labyrinth of halls in the massive building. She had asked for directions

to the main dining room and had finally arrived. She found an empty table and took a seat. Still wearing her uniform, Mary wished she could get more clothes. She had left them all behind at the inn in Bruck an der Mur. Wiping some of the bangs that had fallen loose from her hairdo, Mary glanced at a menu. After having such a late night and little sleep, Mary felt tired. She had found a small bottle of face powder and had rubbed it into her skin to freshen up a bit, but had put on no makeup. There was none to be found in any of the cupboards under the bathroom sink of her apartment suite. “Ah. Maria, I am so sorry,” Hans said, in German, from behind Mary as he approached her table. “I had a few errands that came up suddenly and I was unable to come to your door. I hope you can forgive my tardiness.” Mary let herself smile. “I found my way okay. It is no problem.” Taking a seat across from her, Hans smiled at her in a way she didn’t feel quite comfortable about, but she tolerated it. She could tell he really liked her. “Maria, you look so gorgeous today.” Mary blushed. “I’m just wearing my uniform.” “You are dazzling,” Hans said as he leaned back. Taking a breath first, he said, “So, did you find your accommodations acceptable?” “They are perfect.” Mary had no trouble falling asleep. “Good. Did you go to the office yet to get registered?” Mary shook her head. “You will have to do that before you can receive any pay. We run things here a little differently than in Germany. It can be a little more complicated, especially since this is a classified project and we are sworn to secrecy. Pay stubs may come in late at times. But, not to worry: you will get the best the world can offer in our luxurious estates. We provide free food, and the finest you can eat; free clothing, better than what you can find in most shops; and free entertainment. We have a system invented by Dr. Adler.” “Oh. What is it?” Mary was curious now. Hans cracked his knuckles before going into a long explanation: “Dr. Adler has invented a camera much like the photographic cameras you seen in magazines. But, his camera does not make use of photographic plates. His uses a strange technology I have no comprehension of to record moving images and sound simultaneously. The recording can then be played back, in full color, by a special device which projects the moving images onto a white screen in a theater. The sound comes through special speaking tubes which produce a sound that is perfectly synchronized with the images on the screen.” “Wow. That is interesting.” Mary had never heard of such a thing before. “We can watch things being displayed on the screen as if we were seeing them in real life,” Hans explained. “I’ve seen moving pictures of a bear hunting fish

in a stream, a train charging down tracks, and a lecture being given by a scientist who is more than eight hundred miles away from here.” “What other things have your scientists invented?” Mary asked. She was curious about the technological developments of the cabal. Perhaps, she could learn some important information from Hans. Hans shook his head. “You would be shocked if I told you half of what I know.” “Give me some examples, please.” Mary leaned forward. “Okay. Several of our scientists have invented iron-clad vehicles which can…” Hans stopped himself. “Have you seen any motor trucks or motorized farm equipment?” Mary remembered seeing a couple motor trucks driving through the streets of New York. They were huge, unwieldy machines that looked like wagons enclosed in metal housing with large gasoline engines that spouted out dark puffs of grey smoke. The driver held a helm or steering wheel which he used to maneuver the automobile through the crowds and among the horse-drawn carriages that seemed to prevail over most of New York city. “Yes, I’ve seen a motor truck before,” Mary said, nodding. “Well, our engineers have invented a self-propelled machine that moves over land on a set of eight wheels. It is covered with iron plates and is constructed in a manner that is similar to a turtle shell.” “I’d like to see it.” Hans looked side to side before lowering his voice. “I’m not really supposed to take office workers into the manufacturing plants, but we can make this an exception.” “So, they--I mean we--are manufacturing these armored vehicles you speak of?” Mary asked also in a hushed tone. “Yes. We are preparing for the great plan to be unleashed. The Order has mandated this and we are doing all we can to see their plans achieved.” What Hans had just told her really drew her attention. The order, Mary thought. Could they be the cabal John Wallis spoke of? “I have not learned that much about the Order. Who are they?” Hans gave her a puzzled look. “You don’t know about the Order? They are the people behind this whole operation.” “I’m to be employed here as an office worker,” Mary said, simply, hoping that Hans would not realize who she really was. “Why would I know that much about the Order?” Hans relaxed his expression of concern. “I see. Well, the Order is a secret society consisting of 13 appointed men and those under them. These men all come from very old and aristocratic families which trace their family lines back to the Tower of Babel. Each man has to work his way through the levels of this

secret society before he can reach the top of the structure. I can tell you more, but you’ll be sitting here for hours. Basically, these men oversee all the operations of the Order and the order oversees what we are doing here.” “And, what exactly are they doing here that they don’t tell us secretaries about?” Mary asked. “Oh,” Hans chuckled. “You want to know some classified information. That will cost you something.” Mary scooted her chair back ever so slightly. “What do you mean?” Hans grinned. “I’m just being facetious. Everyone here knows what we are doing, except perhaps for the workers.” Mary waited. Hans chuckled before he continued. “We built Moles, Wolverines, Hawks, and things even I don’t know about.” Mary wore a confused look. What is he talking about? Hans saw her expression. “I’ll take you on a tour of the base. I don’t have any pressing duties today. We’ll go after breakfast.”

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After working for what felt like twelve or fourteen hours, Sam and the other men in his group trudged back to the small village with the enclosing fence. It was dinner time and Sam was completely exhausted. His arm ached from pounding metal pegs into holes. He never wanted to see another iron plate filled with pegs again. Carrying a plate filled with questionable piles of food, Sam sat down at the table assigned to his team, team 503. He could see John at another table across the room talking with the older men on his team. Sam poked a pile of green slop with his spoon, wondering if anything would move. He had just barely controlled himself from puking last meal when a small insect crawled across his plate, coming from a gray slop that seemed to have more exoskeletons in it than potato chunks. “What do you think of cuisine here at Wurzel Anlage?” a deep voice asked from Sam’s right shoulder. Ivan stood, holding a plate of food, half-grinning at seeing Sam’s disgusted facial expression. “You won’t die from eating food here,” Ivan chuckled. “But, you might get a few gray hairs in process.” He sat across from Sam, clanking his plate against the wooden table. Andrew, who was slowly eating his food looked up from Sam’s left. “My name’s Andrew, Andrew Kirsch,” Mary’s father said as he reached a

hand out to Ivan. Ivan took it and shook it heartily. “Ivan is my name. I come from Russia.” “I thought so, hearing your accent,” Andrew commented. The big Russian chuckled. “Where I grew up people call me Zheleznaya ruka.” Andrew looked at him, waiting for an explanation. “Iron arm. I never lost arm-wrestling contest.” “I believe you,” Andrew said before he shoved a spoonful of watery carrots into his mouth. “Well, actually,” Ivan admitted, “there was time many years ago when this guy the size of mountain challenged me to match. He beat me faster you can say Saint Nicolas.” A few of the men at the table chuckled. “But that was only once.” Ivan hit the table, causing the dishes to shake. “It’s okay, Ivan. There will always be someone better than us,” Sam said. “Now, you said you were going to tell me more about this place. Wurzel Anlage…” “Ah, you want to know more,” Ivan said between bites. “I tell you more, but you must promise never to tell anyone what you hear. I get tortured if word spreads. I believe you are trustworthy man, and I believe you are too, Andrew. So, I tell you what I tell very few.” Ansgard was talking with another man at another table and only the three of them were at their team table. The rest had found other tables at which to eat. Ivan cleared his throat and said in a slightly lower voice, “Many months ago I came here. I get to work all over cave, or cavern. I work here. I work there. I learn much. I gain much knowledge of Wurzel Anlage and of the Order’s plans.” “By Order, you mean a secret group like a cabal?” Andrew asked. “I do not know that word cabal. They are secret group that controls many things. They want to bring in new order of ages and take over all Europe and then all the world. They have many secret factories and military… eh…I can’t think of the word.” “Bases?” Sam suggested. “Facilities or bases,” Ivan agreed. “Yes. They have many facilities all over Europe where they build weapons underground. Dangerous weapons. You will never believe me if I tell you.” “What kind of weapons do they manufacture or make?” Andrew asked. “They manufacture armored vehicles that moved across ground on wheels. These vehicles are self-propelled. They have no horses to pull them. They are very fast, swifter than an athlete who is sprinting. They have guns built into armor. Big guns that are breach-loaded. We build them here, but you have to

work here for at least three months before you can build them.” “What other weapons do they build here?” Sam wondered, leaning forward. “You will never believe me.” “I’ve seen a lot of strange things over the past few months. I can believe you,” Sam said, reassuringly. “Okay,” Ivan said as he looked from Sam to Andrew. “I tell you, but you must promise never to tell.” “I promise,” Sam said and Andrew nodded in agreement. Speaking with a lower voice, Ivan continued, “The Prussian scientists invented weapon capable of destroying five cities and all areas surrounding them.” Sam’s eyes shot open wide. That was hard to believe. The best bombs they had currently couldn’t take down much more than one city block and those were battleship shells from 12-inch guns. “What kind of thing could do that? A bomb?” Andrew asked before Sam could speak. “Not bomb,” Ivan said, smiling. “It is weapon you could never dream of.” Sam and Andrew waited for Ivan to continue, literally on the edge of their seats. Before he could say any more, one of the other team members sat down. He was a brown-haired man with a strong build and thick hands. “Ivan,” the brown-haired man said, “eto khorosho, chtoby sdelat' eto cherez drugoy den'. Vy ponyali moyu zagadku?” Ivan talked to him for a minute or two in Russian before turned back to Andrew and Sam. “I’m so sorry. I forgot to introduce you to my friend, Igor,” Ivan said before motioning toward Sam and Andrew. “These are my new friends, Sam and Andrew. Sam and Andrew, this is Igor, who once worked as a coal miner in Russia.” “I decided to save up some money and visit Vienna with my family,” Igor said with better English than Ivan. “I left the family to pick up some groceries at a small store. When I got outside, I heard a sound of someone crying coming from an alley. When I entered the alley, something hard hit me on the head and I blacked out. I woke to find myself in a coffin aboard a train and the rest is history.” “So, what is this weapon you were telling us about?” Andrew asked. A whistle shrieked, echoing through the large mess hall. Prussian soldiers entered. “Dinner is over,” Igor commented. “Sam, Andrew,” Ivan said as Sam stood up from the table. “Yes?” both men asked. “We’ll skip lunch tomorrow and I’ll show you some of the things you’d like to

see,” Ivan said, patting Sam on the shoulder and winking at Andrew. “I’d like to.” Sam said with the trace of a grin.

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“This is the Mole,” Hans said with a theatrical motion of his hand in the direction of a strange-looking machine. Mary had followed Hans through assembly lines, down long corridors, and through locked doors which he opened with a skeleton key. They had reached a section of the base where Hans did something very odd and placed his hand against a black pad made of some strange material that resembled rubber. A door slid open silently and by means of some hidden mechanism. Inside was another assembly line, but to Mary’s complete surprise, not a single person was to be seen at work except for an occasional technician in a white lab coat who took down notes. She would never have believed it if someone had told her, but here was an assembly line in which mechanical arms picked up metal parts and welded, melted, bolted, and locked the parts together. They were very fast and efficient, moving with the dexterity of a concert pianist. Mary and Hans had strode across a vast factory floor in which machines rapidly constructed the skeletal frames of some large and strange vehicles. Now, they stood before a completed unit: a brand-new Mole. “Maria, you have never seen anything like a Mole, have you?” Hans asked, noticing her wide-eyed look. “Never.” Mary took a few steps back so she could take in the whole machine with her eyes. A snake of hinged metal plates wrapped around eight massive wheels with gear teeth, forming tank treads. Above them, a multifaceted steel body rose up to a height of fifteen feet. The vehicle appeared to be the size of a Pullman train car and was about as wide as three train cars side by side, roughly thirty feet. Mary estimated it to be about twenty-five feet high. Stenciled across its side in white lettering was one word in German: Maulwurf, or Mole. The front end of the massive vehicle had a huge rotating disc which itself was composed of twelve smaller rotating discs which had jagged teeth. In the middle of the large disc was a black aperture with German writing that appeared next to it. Mary turned her head to the left to read the writing. “Caution. Molekulare Trennung Elektrische Plasmic Strahl. What does that mean? I’ve never seen those words before.” Walking up behind her, Hans explained, “It is a device which shoots a beam of hot, electrically-charged particles. It can melt through most rock, even granite.

The disc rotates and the smaller cutting discs spin at three thousand revolutions per minute. The main disc turns at one thousand revolutions per minute. With this beauty, we can tunnel our way beneath mountains and travel across vast stretches of land at an average rate of 12 to 15 kilometers per hour. We have used such machines to build tunnels for our trains.” “Is that how you found the cavern?” Mary wondered, placing a finger to her lip, in thought. Hans shook his head. “We used sonic pulses through the earth to determine the density of the materiel beneath this mountain. By studying the echoes from the pulses we sent through the earth, we were able to determine that a huge cavity existed beneath one of the mountain peaks in the Swiss Alps. That is how we located the caverns for all our factories and military bases. One day, Europe will be shocked to find an army flood out from underground, appearing as if from nowhere. Then, with pride, we will snatch the land those Christians took from us and we will restore the days of our ancestors.” Mary trembled as she listened. She had become a born-again Christian as a young girl and she had always remembered going to protestant church services with her mother and father. Even after her mother passed away, Mary and Andrew had attended church. Europe, which had struggled free from the tight fist of the Catholic empire, was now free to worship as she chose and many chose to attend protestant church services. Did Hans mean to say that the Order, or the cabal, wanted to destroy Christianity in Europe? Mary wanted to ask him what exactly he meant, but she was afraid that doing so would compromise her assumed persona as a Prussian clerk working for the order. Instead, she bit her lip and remained silent. Puffing out his chest, Hans started a short speech: “Maria, Europe will be restored to all its glory prior to the Christian invasion. We will burn those heaps of molding bricks where they meet, sever their wretched tongues from their mouths so that they will not longer speak lies and deceive the great people of Europe.” Hans looked at the machine before them with intensity. His eyes stared at the Mole as if he were gazing into the distance while he continued speaking. “The Order shall establish a government that grants anyone the ability to do anything they want without receiving penalties. Prostitution will be legalized. Satan worship will be legalized. Sodomy will be legalized. Infanticide for the sake of convenience will be legalized. Anything you desire will be legalized. We will have a world free from the Christian laws: a world where we make our own laws. We will become the gods that we are, Maria. We will be able to unlock all that is within us. You have never dreamed of such a wonderful future, have you?” Mary shook her head, keeping quiet. Her mind was churning while her heart

beat faster. This Prussian officer was sounding like a madman. If half of what he said were to happen, Europe would be a completely different world. She didn’t want to imagine what it might look like. Hearing about it was horrific enough. She wanted to get away from Hans and his mad talk as soon as possible, but she had committed herself and could not break loose until he had shown her more.

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A loud steam whistle shrieked through the factory, echoing off metal surfaces and causing the men inside to wince. The men left their tools on the assembly line and formed a queue leaving the giant factory structure, Building A. They were hungry and looked forward to some reprieve from their exhaustive labors assembling war machines and artillery cannons. Sam, Andrew, and Ivan hung back while the men filed past them. Ivan motioned for the others to follow him as he headed toward an oil-stained hallway. It was lit by a couple dim square-shaped lights in the ceiling. Ivan cautiously glanced back down the tunnel to ascertain that no one had seen them before he opened the door at the end. Before them, a spiral staircase descended into the floor of the factory and deeper into the floor of the cavern. “What I show you here, you tell no one. Understood?” Ivan said with a slight shakiness in his voice, which he fought to keep back. “Yes,” both Sam and Andrew affirmed, nodding their heads with grim expressions. “Come then. We see the world few see,” Ivan said cryptically before descending the metal steps rapidly. His footfalls clapped against the metal softly, echoing in the cylindrical stairwell, creating an eerie sound in Sam’s attuned ears. Sam and Andrew followed, feeling a slight amount of fear begin to creep through their skin like an electric current. Andrew was moving his lips quickly and Sam guessed Andrew was praying. Sam had nothing against prayer, but he didn’t believe God really answered prayer unless it was for a special purpose. Mary and her dad had religion. That was nice as long as they kept it to themselves. After descending a couple flights of stairs, Ivan paused before a door. Sam thought he saw his hand trembling. The thick, muscular hand of a man who weighed almost 300 pounds was trembling. That fact made Sam began to shiver. Whatever was behind that door must have scared Ivan. Ivan reached toward the door handle and stretched out his hand, and left it suspended in the air for a moment before quickly pulling it back. He turned to

Sam and Andrew. Fear was written over his strong, chiseled features. “You gentlemen must go on without me. I-I can’t. I-It’s… You go. I have things to do.” With that, Ivan turned back toward the stairs. “Wait,” Andrew said, placing a hand on Ivan. “You brought us down here to leave us? What is down here?” Ivan trembled. He looked like he was about to speak, but then he stopped himself and instead said, “You will see. You will see.” “You have to guide us. We’ve never been down here,” Sam said, trying to stay calm. “I’m willing to go. Why can’t you?” Ivan inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. After a moment or two, he said, “Alright, I go. But, what ever happens, stay right with me. If you leave, you may never return.” With that said, Ivan reached into his pocket and pulled out a lock picking set. He went to work with the precision and speed of an expert so that Sam wondered if he truly was a locomotive engineer after all. Within a minute, the lock clicked and Ivan slowly opened the door.

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“Come, Maria,” Hans motioned to her with a wave of his hand. “I have more to show you.” “I ought to be returning to work,” She said with concern etched on her face. “I will see to it,” Hans said, “that you do not get into trouble for missing a couple hours of time.” Mary tried to think of something to say so that she didn’t have to spend any more time with that man, but she couldn’t think of anything. “What do you want to show me?” Mary asked. “I will show you the wolverine, and then, you can go back to work,” Hans said, winking. “I promise.”

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The door slipped shut behind Andrew and the three men found themselves in a rocky tunnel lit only by dim, square lights similar to the ones in the hallway they had passed through earlier. The lights gave off a buttery-yellow radiance that gave them just enough light to see the way. They were standing a short distance from an intersection of two tunnels. The left and right branches of the intersecting hallway were identical and both ran off into the distance for at least five hundred yards until they stopped at what

appeared to be dead ends. Without a word, Ivan walked toward the left branch and headed down the hallway. As they walked, Sam noticed that the rock walls glistened with a glass-like sheen. He placed his hand against the rock and it felt as smooth as a kitchen window. Strange, he thought. What could have caused the rock to turn into glass? The tunnel stopped abruptly about five hundred yards from the intersection, just as Sam had guessed. Before them was what appeared to be a stone wall, but Ivan did not seem to notice the obstruction. He shoved his hands into the rock in a certain place and, to Sam’s surprise, a small section of the wall moved inward, creating a square impression. “What in the world is--” Sam started to say as the rock wall rose up to reveal a widening gap at the base. Soundlessly, the wall retracted into the ceiling, revealing a tunnel before them. Continuing down this tunnel for some ways, they soon came to an open doorway. Ivan came to a stop. “I go no further. I wait for you here,” Ivan said resolutely, clenching his jaw. Sam didn’t say a word as he cautiously approached the maw. A tunnel running perpendicular to the direction of the tunnel Sam was in appeared through the doorway. He walked down this tunnel to the right a few yards, before stopping. There, in the wall of the tunnel was a thick plate of glass where a square window had been cut into the rock wall. Through this window, Sam gazed, his jaw hanging wide open. “What is it?” Andrew asked as he stepped up beside Sam. Sam merely pointed, shaking his head in disbelief. Now, it was Andrew’s turn to be surprised. Through the glass window, both men could see a vast, square room below them. In this huge room were hundreds and hundreds of glass cylinders with metal caps and bases. The cylinders formed long rows with aisles between the rows. Each cylinder was filled with water or some fluid. Floating in the fluid was a baby connected by an umbilical cord to a metal column in the cylindrical tank. These babies were not dead, because Sam could see many of them moving their small limbs and opening their mouths once in a while. This was surreal. Unheard of. Nightmarish. Who could come up with that kind of technology? Who? Sam was struck by a sense of something very evil at work in this place. He shivered, but what lay through the window captivated him in a strange way. Sam had to see the babies up close. He started walking along the tunnel until he spotted a door. A window nearby revealed that a staircase descended from the door into the room. Sam tried the handle and found that the door opened

effortlessly. “Sam, wait,” Andrew said from behind him, concerned. “What if someone sees you?” “I have to see a baby up close,” Sam said resolutely. “Then, we can go.” “Sam,” Andrew started to say, but Sam descended the stairs, focused on the spectacle before him. Tube after tube passed by him as he walked down an aisle lined with the babies. Sam finally stopped before one tube in particular and looked at the young life inside. The baby looked just like any ordinary child Sam had seen. The baby had small fingers and toes, small feet and hands. As Sam looked at the child, a deep feeling a hatred welled up inside him. How could anyone do this to these children? How could they snatch them from their mothers and stick them inside these horrible tubes? “Andrew, what happened to these poor children? What scoundrel snatched them from their mothers?” Sam said with clenched teeth. “Sam,” Andrew said after a few moments studying the floating forms. “These babies were not snatched from their mothers. They were…bore here…in these tubes.” Andrew began to chock up slightly and he had to swallow to hold back his own anger. Sam felt the impulse to vomit come over him, but he held it back and breathed deeply. “They…they were born here?” Sam asked, looking at the ground, unable to continue looking at the floating forms. “Some of these children are just fetuses,” Andrew explained. “It would be impossible to conduct an operation to extract them from a womb without the fetuses dying from the process. These babies were born here by some means that defies modern science.” “You mean to say that they somehow take a zygote cell and let it sit in a test tube for nine months until it is time to be born? And, when it is ready to be born, this child is taken from the tank? No mother is involved?” Andrew remained silent, nodding in agreement. “This is a nightmare,” Sam said, backing away from a nearby tube. “What do these parentless children grow up to be? What is the Order’s purpose for these children?” “To repopulate the world,” a voice suddenly said from behind Sam and Andrew. Sam’s heart jumped into his mouth.

Chapter 6

“The first prototype was constructed a year ago,” Hans said to Mary as they walked down a gray hallway, footsteps echoing. “Since then, we have made many improvements. What you are about to see is the best and latest version of our main battle vehicle.” The door at the end appeared to be constructed of battleship armor. Hans placed his hand against another black pad that had the consistency of rubber.

A deep, metallic locking sound came from somewhere within the walls on either side of the door. With a punctuated click, followed by a hiss, the door began to slid open on its own accord, like a theatrical curtain being swept aside. Mary put a hand to her mouth. She blinked several times to clear her eyes in case she was not seeing right, somehow. A huge room the size of four football fields spread out before her. It was constructed of concrete and was lit up by a number of bright square lights in the ceiling, spread far apart. Arranged in huge rows separated by aisles, glistening under the harsh lights were hundreds upon hundreds of low-profile, angular, armored vehicles, resting on six large wheels. A low-profile turret rested snugly against the top of each armor-plated machine and a strange-looking gun sprouted from it. The gun was translucent and made of a bluish material with a number of opaque metal pieces built into the translucent barrel. The way they were embedded in the bluish translucent barrel reminded Mary of what small chunks of wood would look like when frozen into ice. Like the Mole, a word was stenciled across the side of the vehicle: Vielfraß. “Behold, the woverine,” Hans said proudly, stretching out his left hand toward the strange vehicles. “Capable of firing two hundred forty shots per second, accelerating from zero to sixty kilometers per hour in fifteen seconds, and deflecting most artillary shells with its armor, the Wolverine is a fighting machine many generations ahead of its time.” Mary just nodded dumbly. She was used to seeing horse-drawn carriages, steam locomotives, and, once in a while, seeing a prototype automobile. Nothing she had ever heard of or seen or imagined could compare with the machines before her eyes. If the Order was going to conquer Europe, they had chosen well. The Wolverines could absolutely slaughter the armies of Europe who were using cavalry charges, single-shot rifles, breach-loading artillery cannons, and trenches as methods for conducting warfare. Europe did not have a chance against the Order. There was no hope. Unless… Mary started to let her mind analyze the data she had been gathering through her eyes and ears. “Maria, what do you think?” Hans asked, interrupting her thoughts. “They are absolutely astonishing,” Mary pretended to be delighted. “I can show you more,” Hans offered. “I think I should return to work now,” Mary said, trying to smile. “Perhaps, tomorrow I could show you the Hawk?” “Perhaps,” Mary said, nodding. She tried to maintain a smile while her mind raced.

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Both Sam and Andrew turned to face a man wearing a white lab coat and black trousers. His dark brown hair had streaks of gray. Though it was slicked back with grease, the ends of his hair at the back part of his head was frizzy, sticking out in various directions, and gave him a slightly eccentric look. “You have come to the wrong place at the wrong time,” the man, who Sam thought was some kind of scientist, said with a noticeable German accent. He peered at them through thick, wireframe glasses that made his eyes look like they were gazing through magnifying glasses. Sam started to speak, when Andrew placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We need to leave,” Andrew said to Sam, trying to guide him away. “Not so fast,” the scientist said as he pulled a pistol from a holster on his belt and aimed it at them. Andrew froze. “You came to a restricted area. You are workers, no?” the scientist asked, still pointing the pistol in their direction. “Yes,” Sam said, nodding. “Why are you here? How did you get here?” the scientist asked raising a thick dark eyebrow. “We got lost,” Sam lied. “Lost? You cannot get lost and pass through security doors. Tell me the truth.” Ashamed that he was caught lying, Sam replied, “We had help getting through the doors.” “So, why did you come?” the scientist lowered the pistol slightly. “We heard about another section of the base and wanted to explore it, out of curiosity,” Sam explained, hoping the man wouldn’t pull the trigger. With an almost imperceptible grin, the scientist softened his expression and returned the gun to its holster. “I suppose, since you are just workers and will not be seeing the light of day, I can tell you some things. But, you must not tell anyone else. Understood?” Sam and Andrew nodded. Sam said, “We understand. But, could we tell just a couple of our close friends whom we trust?” The scientist scratched his clean-shaven chin. “I think I can trust you. You look like honest men. I would introduce myself, but I do not want to risk it. You will have to be satisfied with just my general description and this code name: Vector. I, Vector, am a scientist who works with many facets of the research being conducted by the Order. What you see before you is the next generation of soldiers, scientists, and citizens. These people are grown in vitro. An ovum is

fertilized by the use of a machine. This zygote is then placed into a tank, such as one of these,” Vector said, pointing at one of the tanks. “After a gestation period of three months, the fetus is ready to be extracted from the tank. The gestation period is only three months, instead of nine months, due to a number of factors which I will get into later.” Andrew was about to speak, but Vector, as he chose to be called, continued, “Questions later. Upon leaving the tanks, the infant is delivered to the care of trained surrogate mothers who care for them until they are a year old. From that point on, they are taken to a unit where they join other children in life process training. During this period, which lasts from age 1 to age 4, the subjects develop into the individuals they are meant to be and acquire necessary skills for their selected vocations. They are then ready to enter specialized training which lasts for a year.” “They are teaching kindergarteners how to be adults?” Sam found it hard to believe. “No,” Vector said, “they are adults.” Sam and Andrew jerked back, in confusion. What did he just say? “The subjects have accelerated growth which starts within the first four months since completing gestation. The subjects will reach adulthood by their fourth birthday and will weigh 290 pounds on average.” “How is that possible?” Sam wondered aloud. Ignoring his question, Vector continued, “The average subject will be approximately seven and a half feet tall and will be capable of outperforming any Olympic athlete. They can run at speeds exceeding twenty-five miles per hour and can maintain such speeds for more than a period of five hours of nonstop running.” Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, Vector said, “Gentlemen, what you see developing in these tanks before you will one day soon become the Nächste Rennen: the next race.” Those words hung in the air for several long moments before Andrew spoke. “Sir, what do you intend to do with these…people?” Vector adjusted his thick glasses with a finger. “They will replace us.” The words struck Sam and Andrew like a gong, causing them to tremble with the impact. How could this be? Sam thought before he said, “How will they replace us? Will they try to drive us off our land?” The scientist swallowed nervously. “I think I have told you enough for now. It is probably time you and I should be getting back to work. If you want to talk more, you can meet me here tomorrow at around this time. If you come sooner, others may be working and you will most likely get reported. I must go.” With that, the man slipped away from them and headed toward a door in the

wall. He placed his hand against a black rubber-like pad and the door slid open without a whisper. Both Sam and Andrew exchanged glances. The world was getting stranger and stranger. Sam determined that he wanted to come back tomorrow. He had to know what was going on and now he had found an insider, a scientists no less, who was willing to talk.

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Mary strode down the red-carpeted hallways, ignoring the beautiful Alpine landscapes depicted in the paintings. Her heart was pounding faster than before, and her stride was quick. She hoped that the more briskly she walked, the less likely someone would ask her what she was doing. The less questions, the better, Mary thought. She had to get out of there as soon as possible and stow away on a train. If half of what Hans told her was true, Europe and the rest of the world would be in trouble. Her desire to leave was slightly less strong than her desire to find her dad and Sam. She rounded a corner and almost collided with another woman wearing a similar long uniform dress and jacket. “Excuse me,” the woman said in German, slightly annoyed. “I am terribly sorry,” Mary apologized. “I shouldn’t be walking so fast around corners.” The woman had blonde hair and blue eyes and a pretty face, but her expression was not pretty. She glared at Mary for a few seconds before something came over her and she quickly changed her mood. Reaching out to shake Mary’s hand, she said, “I see you must be new around here. I am Elsa Schmidt, personal secretary to Count Max von Oberst.” At hearing the name Max von Oberst, Mary’s heart froze. She had encountered him months ago on a very strange adventure with Sam, John, and her father, Andrew. The Prussian count disappeared and was never heard from again. The name sent chills down her spine. Mary controlled her face and heart, trying to calm herself before she spoke. “I am Maria Kirsch, and I just recently came here,” She said as she took Elsa’s hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Elsa said, smiling. “What department do you work in?” “I’ll I know is that I am to be an office worker,” Mary said, shrugging. “Come with me,” Elsa motioned for Mary to follow her. “I’ll help you get adjusted to our way of life down here at Wurzel Anlage. I know that we need a

few more office workers to make the work a little easier for all of us.” Elsa guided Mary down the hall and up some stairs for nearly three flights. On the third flight, two Prussian soldiers stood on either side of the door. Elsa smiled at them and they swung the door open for the ladies. Together, the two women strode down the hall, past office doors. Halfway down, Elsa steered toward a door an knocked. “Come in,” a voice said muffled through the wood. Swinging the door open for Mary, Elsa motioned for her to go first. Mary entered a large office room with a desk at the far end. Like all other places in the base it was lit by the strange bright light emanating from square light fixtures in the ceiling. Behind the desk sat a middle-aged woman with prematurely graying hair. She glanced up at Mary through glasses briefly before she set them on the desk and leaned toward Mary. “Welcome,” the woman said pleasantly. “I am Hilda, the department head of records.” Mary stretched out her hand to shake Hilda’s and introduced herself as Maria Kirsch. Hilda ignored her hand, so Mary dropped it. “You will start training today,” Hilda said with a bit of gruffness. “I would have you start tomorrow, but time is of the essence and the work of the Order never ends. Elsa, I want you to instruct Ms. Kirsch in how to do her job. She will be working as a report summarizer. We need complex information condensed and summarized. That work is essential. Once you can prove yourself good at that, you will move on to more auspicious work. Understood?” Mary nodded. “Understood?” Hilda asked louder. “Yes, ma’am,” Mary said, wondering what she had gotten herself into. “Elsa, there is an empty work space. Take Ms. Kirsch over there right now and start her training.” “Yes, ma’am,” Elsa said. She tapped Mary on the arm and motioned for her to follow her through a door to the left of Hilda’s desk. Mary followed Elsa through only to find herself in a large room filled with rows and rows of desks, filing cabinets, and women. All of them were busy jotting things down on paper, referring back to file folders and documents that lay to their left. A handful of the women had typewriters which clattered away, punching ink into paper. Hilda guided Mary over to an empty desk and had Mary sit down. A row of filing cabinets rested like a behemoth a short distance away. Elsa reached for a drawer identified with the title: Eisen Hochwertigen Statistiken, or Iron Quality Statistics. What did that have to do with anything? Elsa dropped a folder on Mary’s desk. “I apologize for Hilda’s behavior. She

has a lot of stress and tends to let it out on people. Just don’t get in her way, and everything will be fine. This file on your desk is the latest statistics about the quality of the iron that goes into constructing the machines here at Wurzel Anlage.” Elsa opened the folder which was given a date and the title: Eisen Hochwertigen Statistiken. Pages and pages of notes taken by iron quality scientists filled the folder. The notes were organized, but were definitely lengthy. “We need to take the data presented here in the scientists’ notes and fill out charts,” Elsa said as she reached over to a drawer in the desk and pulled it out. She reached in and snatched a small pile of papers which were printed with dozens of cells where data could be written down. Elsa proceeded to explain how to summarize the data from the notes and fill out the data cells in the charts. By the time she was done with the first sheet, Mary had the knack of it and the rest of the sheets were fairly easy to fill out. It was certainly not work she would have dreamed of doing as a child, but it took her mind off the dangers of her situation. Even so, she still thought of Sam. Where was he?

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“This last time I take you down here,” Ivan said as they walked through the glassy rock tunnel. “Do you understand?” “Yes,” Sam said as he walked beside Andrew. “No more after this! No more!” Ivan said, swinging his arms in a chopping motion away from his chest. It was the third day since Sam and Andrew had arrived at Wurzel Anlage and it already felt like a full week had passed. Every other minute, during the morning, Sam had been thinking of Vector and the strange these he had shown them. They had returned to the same tunnels they had been just a day before. It was lunch time again and Ivan had reluctantly agreed to guide them back to the same spot. He had complained and grumbled all the way down the flights of stairs and through the tunnels. They reached the open doorway that led into the tunnel with the thick glass windows at a right angle. “I will go no further,” Ivan announced. “Come on, Ivan,” Andrew said, slapping the big Russian on the soldier. Ivan shook his head. “Nyet.” “You should come,” Sam added. “Sam, he doesn’t have to go. Come on,” Andrew said, touching Sam on the

shoulder. Reluctantly, Sam followed Andrew down the tunnel with the glass windows and up to the door they had passed through earlier which led into the huge room with all the developing babies. “Wait.” Andrew paused, turning back to Sam just as they reached the door. “What?” “Could this be a trap? I haven’t thought about it until now,” Andrew said, “but what if this Vector guy had told someone else about us? I mean, we aren’t supposed to be here.” Sam frowned and thought for a moment before he replied. “The way I see it, we have already fallen into a trap at the hotel in Bruck an der Mur. Besides, King Oscar II hired us to find out information as to the whereabouts of Propereau Schnörkelheim and also information about the Order, or the cabal. We have our chance to get information right now.” Andrew nodded, but didn’t respond. Sam reached for the handle and swung the door open. The room appeared to be empty of all life other than the life that existed in the cylindrical tanks. He descended the stairs and approached a tank to look at the young human inside. As he studied it, Sam recoiled, backing up quickly and almost ran into Andrew. He and Andrew exchanged glances before turning back to the creature inside the tank. The skin had changed color from the normal pinkish tone to a gray tone the color of concrete. Not only that, but the children appeared slightly larger than before. What had happened in just twenty-four hours? What bizarre transformation had been achieved? “I can see you are dazzled by the life within, no doubt,” a voice said in English from behind Sam and Andrew. This time, neither turned away from the bizarre sight. The man who called himself Vector continued, “You are witnessing the next phase in the fetuses growth. They are maturing rapidly. As these fetuses mature, their skin changes to a gray tone, similar to the color of a battleship. That is due to their unique genetics. By the time they are old enough to talk, their skin will be as white as the skin of a Norwegian.” Vector cleared his throat and said, “I have brought two subjects with me for you to behold.” Sam and Andrew turned, breaking their gaze with the babies in the tanks. Standing on either side of the scientist, like pillars, were two huge men. Sam’s jaw dropped. The men were muscular and tall, nearly eight feet tall. They were not just tall, but huge and strong, unlike a man with a growth problem. They must have weighed almost 400 pounds, but were solid muscle. Both had short, blonde hair, blue eyes, and chiseled features as if they were statues. They wore

black uniforms, black jackboots, and carried strange-looking guns. Each man’s gun was a four-foot long rectangular prism of solid black metal. Near one end of the block, a handle and trigger protruded. Near the opposite end, a smaller rectangular prism of metal protruded, running parallel to the larger prism, just five inches from the end. “Meet Alois and Klaus. Guess how old these two are?” Andrew recovered from his shock and guessed, “In their early 30’s?” “They are eight years old,” Vector said with a thin smile. “They were born in tanks similar to the ones you see here. In fact, they were born in this room.” The middle-aged scientist stepped back and snapped his fingers. Like robots, the two giants aimed their strange guns at Sam and Andrew, but did not pull the triggers. Sam tensed, his heart beating faster than ever before. “If I wanted to, I could have you killed right here, right now…” Vector said still wearing his thin smile, “…but I won’t. You give me pleasure and I think you will find yourselves fascinated by the world below. Come.” Vector snapped his fingers again and the two men lowered their guns and stood at attention. Vector walked along one of the aisles and Sam and Andrew followed. Sam glanced back to see if they were being followed, but thankfully the two giants were standing at attention still. Sam wasn’t sure what to think about Vector, but at least he wasn’t dead. The man was a mystery to him. Presently, they reached a circle in the middle of the rows of cylindrical tanks. The circle was a slightly different shade than the concrete floor and Vector stepped onto it. He pulled up the left sleeve of his white lab coat and pressed something attached to his left wrist. It was hidden from Sam’s view and Vector slipped his sleeve back down, concealing it. Suddenly, the floor lowered with a whirring hum and all three men descended even deeper into the earth. They lowered through a glass tube on the metal platform by some mechanism Sam could not explain. Through the glass walls, Sam saw the rocky walls of the tunnel. A huge cavern rose into view, not quite a quarter of the size of the massive cavern containing the factories. Lights brightly illuminated an awesome spectacle on the cavern floor. Vector pressed a button on his watch and the elevator came to a stop before a metal door built into the side of the glass tube. The scientists pressed his palm against a black pad and the metal door hissed open. Sam was shocked by how warm it felt, but then, he remembered that scientists have learned that the deeper one goes into the earth, the hotter it gets, due to the pressure of the overlying rock of the crust of the Earth. Stepping out into this new cavern, Sam and Andrew turned to behold the vast

spectacle that stretched out before them in many directions. Thousands upon thousands of armored vehicles with built-in guns spread across the ground in neat rows to the south west quadrant of the cavern. The south east quadrant was covered with thousands of armored trucks of a design Sam had never seen before. Each truck was attached to a boxy trailer that resembled a miniature boxcar. The north west and north east quadrants were empty and the lights overhead were shut off, leaving these quadrants in shadow and not a soul was to be seen anywhere. The effect was eerie, and Sam shivered. “You have wondered what you are building in the factories,” Vector said. “We compartmentalize so that no one knows too much. You only see what you are building. Now, I will give you the privilage of seeing all of it. But, you must promise me that you will never tell a soul, except for those who you absolutely trust. If word gets out, I will deny everything and you will be shot. Understood?” The two men nodded. Without another word, Vector led them down the middle of the cavern, past thousands of armored vehicles. “What are these?” Andrew asked. “Wolverines,” Vector said simply. Sam and Andrew took a glance at the strange, translucent barrels, hoping they would not see them in action. As the reached the edge of the darkened region, Vector stopped and pulled back his sleeve. He began entering a code into the strange device on his wrist. Across the ceiling, hundreds of lights glowed orange as they turned on. Slowly, like the rising of the sun, the lights changed from a dull orange color to a bright white. Harsh shadows crisscrossed the floor, coming from the forms of hundreds of thousands of men standing in perfect formation. Sam couldn’t believe his eyes. Each figure was wearing dark gray armor chest plates over long gray greatcoats. Their helmets were strange, unlike any Sam had seen before. They were black and looked similar to a samurai helmet but the neck guard portion was higher up than on the samurai helmets. A sharp spike, similar to the one on the pickelhalub helmets jabbed into the air from the top of each helmet. A narrow pathway ran down the middle of the ranks of soldiers and Vector continued walking, seemingly unaffected by how massive the men were. Each soldier appeared to be a giant, the same size as the two who had accompanied Vector into the gestation room. While they walked, Sam looked at the faces of the eight-foot-tall giants. Their faces were all fair-skinned and blue-eyed. Not one of the men had a flaw or a skin discoloration and all stood perfectly still as if they were statues and not

men. From ahead, Vector said, “This is only a small portion of our fighting men.” The scientists turned back toward Sam and Andrew. “Soon, these will be marching across the fields of Europe, trampling out all opposition to the will of the Order.” Another spark of fear shot through Sam’s veins, pricking his heart. Nothing could stop these monsters, Sam thought, pessimistically. At the end of the cavern, they passed through a door, ascended a spiral staircase, and arrived at a control center with a huge window looking out at the cavern floor below. Resting snugly against the wall under the window, a bank of strange instruments and computing machines with display screens drew Sam’s attention. He approached one and gazed at the screen. “When the order has us invade the nations of Europe, a grand era of peace and prosperity will set in,” Vector said as he gazed through the glass. The screen Sam looked at was similar to the screens he had seen in a flying pyramid craft he had encountered while in India on an earlier adventure. The technology of the pyramid had come from an early civilization. While such technology was quite interesting to Sam, it did not seem as bizarre as the strange technology he had encountered just months ago on his previous adventure. Sam touched the screen and found that he could access the computer via the sceen without having to use buttons on a control board. He began to work quickly. Words appeared next to boxes on the screen. Conveniently, a German word appeared just above its English translation. Sam selected a box with the English title: wolverines. As his finger depressed it, Vector turned and glared at Sam. “What did you just press?” Vector said. Sam remained silent, his heart pounding. He noticed another option and quickly reached for it, touching the screen. “Stop!” Vector shouted. “What are you doing?” Sam ignored him, and pressed more buttons, accessing menues of options. Vector reached for the device on his wrist, but Andrew rushed toward him and clamped his strong hands around the scientists thin wrists. Vector struggled, but it was no use. Andrew regularly lifted weights to keep his muscles toned and strong. Twisting the scientists hands behind his back, holding them by the wrists, Andrew whispered in the man’s ear, “You touch that thing, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.” With gritted teeth, Vector said, “I should have seen this coming. I was a fool to show you these secrets. I thought I might have won you to my side so that you could assist me with my projects. If you let me go, I will forget that this

happened.” “Andrew, I’ve figured out how this machine works,” Sam said from the computer station. “We may just had our ticket out of here.” A knock came at the door and all three men turned. Before Vector could make a sound, Andrew covered his mouth. The knocking continued. Sam continued typing in the computer. Without warning, the door slid open with a cat-like purr and a man in a lab coat gasped. His reaction was brief and in a couple seconds, he drew out a pistol. “Heben Sie Ihre Hände!” Raise your hands! the man shouted. Sam pointed to the giant window and grinned. The man stepped up to the glass and gazed through. Before his eyes, the cavern was in mayhem. The wolverines were crashing into each other and some had moved toward the trucks across from them. As if they had a mind of their own, some had started to fire their cannons at each other. The sound-proof glass had shielded the sounds of explosions. Purple energy beams spit from the barrels, heating up the air around them and melted through armor, causing some of the machines to shred apart in explosions. The soldiers, who had been in the northern quadrants of the canvern, had fled the scene, having dashed toward doorways in the cavern walls. The scientist turned toward Sam only to find that he was gone. The room was empty. Without waiting a second, the man reached for the device strapped to his wrist.

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Chapter 7

The second day of her time at Wurzel Anlage, Mary was busy filling out the

data sheets, referring back to the notes. She had learned to take short pauses to keep her fingers from cramping. During one of these breaks, Mary set her fountain pen on the desk after capping it and let her hand relax. Ring. An electric bell rang, signaling lunch time. Mary left the documents on her desk and joined the other women in forming a line heading out the door. As Mary reached the door and entered the hall outside, a man walked toward her, wearing a grin on his face. It was Hans, the hansom young Prussian officer. Hans von Graf stepped alongside Mary and doffed his peaked officer’s cap. “You look absolutely stunning today,” he said in German, flatteringly. She smiled. “I’m flattered.” “Maria, would you care to join me for lunch?” Hans asked. “Why not,” Mary said. “Excellent!” Hans said. “We will be viewing a motion picture. You remember the invention I described to you earlier?” “Yes.” “We’ll be watching a short motion picture while we dine,” Hans said. A few minutes later, and a couple floors higher, he and Mary were seated in a fancy dining room. A number of tables with straight back chairs lay scattered around the room. The walls were decorated with paintings and sconces holding flickering torches. Mary and Hans made small talk for a few minutes while they dined on Sauerbraten, Germany’s national dish. Around them seated at other tables were Prussian officers and officials. Army officers from a number of other European countries dined at nearby tables. When Mary asked Hans about that, he said that there were a number of military officials from other European countries who had secretly pledged their allegiance to the Order and not to their respective governments. Mary could identify some of the non-Prussian personnel as being Russian, Austro-Hungarian, Italian, British, and French. Presently, the undulating flames in the torches died and the ceiling lights in the room darkened to a soft glow. “Attention, ladies and gentlemen,” a man’s voice said in German, “we have a special surprise for you.” His voice seemed to come from every direction, confusing Mary. How could he do that? Like a scroll unrolling, a huge sheet coated with a silvery reflective material lowered from the ceiling. “You will be treated to a motion picture about how we view the future of planet Earth,” the announcer’s voice continued. “This picture will give you a glimpse of the bright future ahead of us. Enjoy.” The moment the announcer’s voice ended, a rectangular patch of light about

twelve feet by twenty-four feet appeared on the silvery sheet. It was a full color image of a city with hundreds of extremely tall buildings sparkling in bright sunlight. Mary had never seen a photograph that was full color, let alone a motion picture. The buildings on the screen were not made of brick, as most buildings were, but were composed of metal and glass instead. Through the air above the city, hundreds of aerial cars sped like swarms of bees. A bold title appeared across the screen: Die Neue Atlantis. Mary was surprised to see this, but her father had seen something like this during one of their adventures and the bizarre technology Mary had been exposed to on those earlier adventures had accustomed her to what she saw before her eyes now. “The twentieth century,” the announcer’s voice said, “will become a time of growth, harmony, and progress as the Order reaches out into the whole world and brings the light of the new age to a world trapped in darkness.” The scene changed to a futuristic home lit by a strange kind of light and full of all kinds of advanced gadgets Mary had never seen or heard of before such as an electric oven, an electric refrigerator, and an automatic washing machine. The announcer mentioned some of the gadgets, their names, and their functions. “These inventions will greatly improve life in the twentieth century and will give the average person more time to read, to develop, and to enjoy the pleasures life has to offer.” A man and a woman with blue eyes and blonde hair held each others hands and smiled as they stood in front of a dazzlingly-beautiful home, complete with a swimming pool and a garage for their automobile. “Let us go now to the world of business. What will that look like in the future?” the narrator said. The scene faded to an exterior shot of a huge skyscraper. Mary had never seen a building taller than a eight or ten story brick building and such buildings were not that common. The skyscraper in the motion picture was at least a hundred stories tall. The skyscraper fades to an inside shot of an office. Hundreds of people clustered together on long tables are busy typing away at control boards and keyboards in front of computer display screens. “The office of the future will be paperless and free of ink,” the narrator said. “The hassle of filing forms and filling out forms will be erased and the data will be entered seamlessly through an electronic data network that encompasses the globe. Such a network will link the world together to furnish the information structure necessary for a global government.” The screen showed the planet earth with lines depicting the transmission of data crisscrossing the globe. In seconds, it faded to a scene of armored

machines with smoke pouring out from punctures. A few corpses lay sprawled on the ground nearby. “Once the world is united under one central government, controlled by the Order, there will be no more war. Peace will pervade our planet. Man will once more live in harmony with man.” The scene changes to an image of a steepled church with a cross sprouting from the steeple top. A flock of people walked toward the open doors and entered. “But, some will not allow such peace and harmony to exist because of backward religious beliefs. These people will do all in their power to halt the ascension to world peace and the development of a global government. These people are self-centered and misguided. They have an ancient belief that our god is the devil and that our beliefs are merely the beliefs of barbaric tribes from the dark ages. Such people will never understand our way. Therefore, they must be eradicated if world peace is to become realized.” Mary’s heart beat faster. She nervously looked around the room to see if anyone was looking at her. Every eye was fixed on the screen. “These people are the true barbarians and savages that they claim us to be. Their very nature is barbaric and backward. If they are allowed to continued, the world will enter another dark age from which it may never escape.” Mary inched her chair away from the table. “In order to deal with this menace to our way of life, the higharchy of the Order have determined a plan of action to once and for all stamp out all resistance to our change.” The scene switched to a silhouetted image of a group of about a dozen men. There was a closeup of a hand scribbling a signature with a fountain pen followed by another hand. “The Order has enacted a brave and powerful plan called the Black Flame,” the announcer said. “This plan is now in the process of being fulfilled. Very soon, our men will leave the seclusion of the underground bases we have established beneath the Alps and start a massive revolution to change the landscape of Europe and to rid it of everyone who opposes our new world order.” The image zoomed into the document and zoomed out to reveal a cartoon of black flames spreading across Europe. They originated from Switzerland and spread out in all directions until the entire continent was covered in the undulating black flames. “In a couple days from now, the first wave of our plan will be executed.” Mary trembled in her seat. Time was running out.

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Through a maze of passageways, up and down staircases, Sam led the way. He had caught a glimpse of someone in pursuit. To evade the pursuer, Sam had tried to double back on his path to confuse the pursuer. It had only worked momentarily. The footsteps of the pursuer were smacking on the concrete rapidly, getting louder. Sam spotted an open door and darted for it. Andrew followed, gripping Vector by the arms. He shoved the scientist through the door just before Sam shut it. They were in a small laboratory. White. Pristine. Immaculate. A long table ran up against the far wall, cluttered with beakers, flasks, tubes, and containers of various sorts. Sam scanned the room quickly before spotting a narrow door. He opened it to find a variety of laboratory coats, gloves, and goggles. Sam spotted three pairs of black wool trousers and a three white collared shirts hanging from clothes hooks on a metal bar. He placed one of the white shirts up next to his chest and saw that it seemed to fit. Sam yanked off his light gray prisoner uniform trousers and shirt and dressed in the black trousers and white shirt. They fit perfectly. He donned a lab coat next. “Andrew,” Sam said as he stepped from the closet. “Yes?” Andrew said as he maintained a firm grip on Vector’s arms. “There are more like this in the closet.” “Good thinking,” Andrew said. “Sam, you hold him and don’t release your grip. I’ll change.” Andrew handed the bitter scientist over to Sam and Sam clenched his arms tightly. “You both are ruffians and hooligans,” Vector said to Sam when the closet door closed. “You will never be able to succeed. We have in this base alone twenty battalians of macht soldaten, the elite troops of the Order. Your attempts to escape are pathetic. You don’t even know where you are going.” Sam remained silent, thinking. He was not going to let the mad scientist detract him or intimidate him. He had to think. Before long, Andrew emerged from the closet. “How does this look?” Sam glanced at the lab coat and clothes. “Perfect.” “I forgot to do one thing,” Andrew said as he stepped up to Vector. Andrew reached for the scientist’s hand and yanked the device from his wrist. Vector hissed in pain, clutching his hand where the band had scraped it. “You have no concept of higher technology,” Vector spat. “What could you possibly do with that auriga?” “Auriga,” Andrew thought aloud. “That is Latin for a charioteer, the driver of a chariot in ancient Rome.” “We have encountered technology even you might be surprised about,” Sam

said as he clenched Vector’s arms tighter. “Help! If anyone can hear me, I am in here. These thugs have me!” Vector shouted at the top of his lungs. Andrew spotted a white towel hanging up on a coat hanger. He snatched it, ripped it in half, and tied one half around Vector’s head, forming a gag. With the other half, Andrew tied Vector’s hands together behind his back and shoved Vector into the closet. Heavy footsteps were approaching the lab door. In seconds, the door burst open and a huge man entered. He looked around with a fierce expression on his face, his nostrils flared. Sam peeked through a small gap between the closet door and the door frame. The soldier was one of the men he had seen standing in formation. Eight feet tall. Four-hundred pounds of muscle. The steel breast plate and back plate; the long gray greatcoat; and the samurai-like helmet, with a tall spike on top, only added to his menacing appearance. In his arms, a large blocky gun gleamed in the bright overhead light. It was the same kind of gun that Alois and Klaus, the two giants in the gestation room, had carried. The big man looked around the room briefly before approaching the closet. His heavy footfalls thumped against the floor as the stepped forward. Sam tensed, gritting his teeth. Just as the soldier reached out for the door knob, a harsh voice shouted from the hall outside. “Beeilen. Der Kommandant erfordert unsere Präsenz so bald wie möglich.” Hurry. The commander requires our presence as soon as possible. The soldier inside grunted and turned quickly to leave. His hand had only been inches from the door. Sam let out a quiet breath. The lab door slammed. Carefully, Sam inched the closet door open to see if anyone was still inside the lab. He sighed, seeing it was empty. Sam and Andrew spotted a single chair near the bench and rammed it up under the door knob with Vector still tied up inside. The two men waited for a few minutes before venturing out into the hallway again. Andrew wore the auriga, wrist-band computer and Sam carried a clipboard with several sheets of papers and a fountain pen. He had to maintain his disguise. “Andrew, we need to find a staircase soon,” Sam said as they walked down a stone hallway. The archeologist nodded as he licked his lips, in thought. Sam had a feeling that they had just upset a beehive. A swarm was coming after them.

Andrew stopped and pulled Sam into a small niche in the wall. He pointed at the auriga device strapped to his wrist. “This may have a map, Sam,” Andrew said as he stared at the small screen. Andrew typed away at the screen, pressing buttons. His knowledge of German was sufficient to read most common words, but a few he saw on the menus he accessed caused him to squint. Footsteps came from around a bend. Sam tapped Andrew on the shoulder and motioned for him to turn away from the hallway and face the niche. Sam pretended to be going over one of the sheets attached to his clipboard. Andrew caught on to what Sam was doing and pretended to be discussing an important item with him. Sam’s heart pounded faster as the footsteps drew near. “Kennen,” a man asked from behind Sam, “Sie schon zwei Gefangenen passieren auf diese Weise?” Have you seen two prisoners pass this way? Sam and Andrew turned around to see a completely bald man with a long scar crossing down his face between his left eye and his nose. The man clasped his hands behind his back, in an imperious manner. Andrew turned around and responded, “Die Soldaten jagen die Gefangenen.” The soldiers are chasing the prisoners. The officer eyed Andrew with blue eyes as cold as ice sickles. “Sie haben einen Akzent. Welches Land kommst du?” You have an accent. What country are you from? Sam and Andrew felt their chest’s freeze over. A pause followed. The cold eyes in the hairless face stared at them like the eyes of a mass murderer. A symbol on his left shoulder also appeared over the left breast pocket of his black uniform. Three black raindrops with the pointy tips curving to the right, like hooks, appeared on a red background or field. They were close together and formed a triangle. “You speak, English?” the man said coldly, more a statement than a question. Sam and Andrew remained silent. Click. Sam heard a trigger being drawn back. The officer had a pistol. Before he could move it from around his back to aim it at them, Sam lunged into action. He swung toward the man’s face and struck him hard in the jaw. The scar-faced officer stepped back and nearly lost hold of his pistol, but he quickly regained possession of himself and attacked. His pistol hand swung around to take aim, but Sam struck it hard with his left arm, sending the gun flying. The officer had anticipated his move, and came around with his left hand to hit Sam full force in the chest. The punch was powerful and caused Sam to

backstep and wince in pain. Sam recovered quickly and blocked half a dozen rapid punches before sending one of his own straight toward the man’s chest. The officer blocked the punch just before it struck and slammed his free fist into Sam’s jaw. Sam struck the wall and felt his head hit the rock. Searing pain ran up his jaw. By this time, Andrew had entered the fight. The archeologist had been in a few fights including some harrowing scrapes with thugs tougher than the bald officer. Andrew’s fists hit home a few times before they were deflected and an unforeseen kick struck him in the leg, knocking him to the floor. Sam saw the bald man rushing toward the fallen revolver. He could not allow that to happen. Sam sprinted at full speed and body slammed the officer, sending him crashing into the opposite wall of the hallway. The man spit blood from his mouth and glared at Sam with intense hatred. “You are an American coward. You have to have two to take on one Prussian,” the man said as he wiped blood from his mouth. “I am just one man, but you will see that I have the strength of two.” Before Sam knew what was happening, the man charged at Sam and then sent out a swift kick, that struck Sam in the leg, knocking him to the ground, just as he did to Andrew. In the next moment, he slammed his leg into Sam’s side and rods of pain shot up his ribs. The man pulled out a knife from a shieth and lunged toward Sam. Just as he closed down fast, Sam kicked his boot as hard as he could, and the officer lost balance. The knife went flying. Just as the man hit the ground, Sam struck him hard in the forehead, knocking him unconscious. “Come,” Andrew said as he stood up. “We need to go. He’s out. The super soldiers could arrive any time.” Sam nodded, feeling aches through his body, the residual pain from the beating he had received. He picked up the revolver and the knife, and together they walked with a little pain in each step down the hallway. “We should at least try to hurry,” Andrew said. Sam nodded and the men started off in a jog. The pain was present, but it slowly wore off as they moved. Around another corner, down another hall, several hundred feet from the scene of the fight, they noticed a door. “Treppe,” Andrew read the word stenciled across it. “That means staircase.” Without a word, Sam reached for the handle, but found the door wouldn’t budge. Andrew gazed at his auriga. The screen displayed their location on a map: a blinking red dot. They were in a section of the base near some massive chambers.

Sam leaned over Andrew and gazed at the screen. “Do you want to take a peek at what is inside those rooms?” Sam asked. Andrew thought about it a moment. “Okay. Let’s go. But, we need to hurry.” Fifty feet down the hallway, a door with a square window drew Sam like a magnet. Throught that window, Sam could see an office. The office appeared empty. Sam tried the door. It was unlocked. Sam and Andrew slipped in, softly closing the door behind them. The office was neatly organized and had a large oak desk, filing cabinets, and stacks of paper piled on a table in the corner. A square light was turned on in the ceiling. The thing that drew Sam’s attention was a strange device resting on the table. It resembled the wrist computer, the auriga. However, unlike the auriga this computer was a foot wide, two feet long, and three inches thick. It sat upright on a special stand and the long side paralleled the desk. The screen displayed a computer document written in German. What really drew Sam’s attention more than the computer was what lay beyond the computer, behind the desk. A large tinted window revealed a huge room beyond. Sam ignored the computer, which was a marvel in itself, and gazed out the window. The room was nearly two thirds the size of the cavern with the super soldiers. Inside, arranged in nead rows were not soldiers, wolverines, or armored vehicles. Instead, hundreds and hundreds of winged vehicles appeared in the abnormally bright ceiling lights. A door connecting the office to the massive chamber hung ajar. Sam brushed through the door and stepped into an incredible experience. The machines were unlike anything he had seen before. Long and thin, each vehicle rested on two wheels near the front end of the fuselage. The rear end of the fuselage rested on a metal rod. Stretched out above the front wheels were two wings, like the wings of a hawk. Two smaller wings, or the tail, protruded from the opposite end with a vertical fin, resembling a shark fin, standing prominently above them. The nose was tapered but rounded. Attached directly under the two main wings were two semi-cylindrical elements running along the underside. A conspicuous stenciled inscription just under the canopy read as Falke. Sam placed his hand on the metal surface of a nearby craft and felt how smooth it was. This was incredible. He climbed up onto the wing and approached the glass canopy bubble. The canopy was hinged upward, revealing two leather seats, one behind the other. Protruding out from the cockpit, the sleeve of a leather coat dangled. “Sam, what are you doing?” Andrew asked as he came through the office door. “Andrew, what are these things?” Sam asked, stretching his hands out in

wonderment. Andrew looked around and frowned. “I don’t know. Falke, the word under the glass bubble, is German for hawk or falcon. They resemble a flock of birds. Perhaps, they are flying machines. I have heard of a few men who have tried to build heavier-than-air gliders and craft, but none have been successful.” “Andrew, the technology down here is similar to the technology we encountered in India,” Sam said. “Only, this technology is contemporary to us and beyond our present level. I have friends who think that the typewriter, the telegraph, the steam locomotive, and the electric light bulb are real novelties.” “Edison would be impressed if he saw this,” Andrew said. “Perhaps, he can catch a steamer and visit Austria sometime,” Sam quipped. “We need to concentrate on escaping, Sam,” Andrew said, gritting his teeth. “I hope my daughter is safe. I don’t know if she was captured along with the rest of us. I need to find her.” Sam felt a weight descend over him. He was also concerned about Mary. Where was she? What had happened to her? Before they could say any more, the office door slammed shut, echoing through the chamber. “You will pay for what you have done,” a man’s voice said. Sam slowly turned. Blam. Blam. Blam. Gunshots rang through the room like a hammer of death. Sam ran to the other side of the Falke and dropped to the floor. Bullets punched through the metal fuselage, just over his head. “Sam, come over here,” Andrew shouted from an aircraft a few yards away. Sam saw where the black-uniformed officer was. The man had another pistol which he was firing in Sam’s direction. The bullets went wide since the crazed officer had lost his cool. Sam waited until he heard a click, signaling the need to reload. Then, without further ado, Sam dashed toward Andrew as fast as he could and arrived at the aircraft. “Sam, get in the rear seat,” Andrew said. Andrew climbed onto the craft, flattening himself against the surface on the side opposite the officer. Sam followed. The archeologist dropped into the front seat and Sam got in the rear. Both sat down on black leather coats splayed on the seats. Andrew typed some things on his portable computer and then reached for the controls in front of him. Neither man had ever taken control of an aircraft before because such things did not exist before. The Wright brothers had not even started their bicycle shop yet. Andrew worked frantically at the controls, referencing instructions he obtained from his auriga.

Blam. Blam. Sam fired off two shots, but missed. He did accomplish sending the Prussian in search of cover. Andrew reached down to some switches that were clearly labeled with such names as on / off, throttle, vertical lift, and so on. Working quickly, he flipped the “on” switch and checked the auriga to see he had flipped the proper one. Lights turned on in a screen before him and controls lit up in a panal. Blam. Blam. Blam. The Prussian was firing back now from the safety of a fuselage. Sam returned fire. Blam. Blam. Snap. Snap. He had run out of bullets. “I’m empty,” Sam said. Andrew worked at the controls furiously, consulting the auriga. He flipped some more switches. Plunk. A bullet punched a small hole in the metal beside Andrew’s left arm. With the press of a switch, the glass canopy lowered down and then a powerful sound filled the room creating a piercing noise. The engines were starting up. The Prussian cursed and plugged his ears, but Sam and Andrew were safe due to the sound-proof glass. “How will we get this thing out of this room?” Sam asked. Andrew was already on top of that. He typed away at the wrist computer and then turned back to Sam. “I think I just activated it,” Andrew said. “What?” Sam asked. “What did you activate?” Before Andrew could respond, the ground lurched up, causing Sam to bump his head lightly against the canopy. Sam looked across the room to see the office door lowering. Wait, it was not lowering. They was ascending. A massive section of the floor on which fifty aircraft were resting was rising into the air, leaving behind the office. Rapidly, the enormous elevator platform ascended through a wide shaft. Small droplets of water splatterd against he canopy, falling from somewhere high above in the shaft. Sam gazed upward, jaw slack. Slowly, like a mouth opening, two halves of a massive hatchway were sliding open on a guided track, revealing a growing patch of blue sky. Andrew didn’t bother to look up while he focused on the instructions on his auriga. He had to learn how to fly an aircraft and he had to learn fast. The Prussian officer had recovered and was searching for his pistol which had tumbled out of his hand during the initial jolt. Sam couldn’t see the gun, but he was sure it wouldn’t be long before the Prussian did. He felt vulnerable, like a sitting duck.

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“Where are you going, Maria?” Hans asked Mary. She was walking quickly toward a door. She had quietly slipped away from the table where she had been viewing the disturbing motion picture with the young Prussian officer. Hans reached out his hand to take her by the arm, but Mary pulled her arm away. “I’ve got to finish up some things,” Mary replied quickly. Hans dropped back, reluctantly. She continued walking and caught a glimpse of him in a mirror watching her with a longing look. This was not what she wanted. Sam loved her and she really missed him too. Mary pushed open the door and quickened her pace down the hallway. A few people chatted in small groups of two or three while others studied the beautiful paintings lining the hallway and sipped wine. Mary had to find Sam and her father even if it meant risking her cover. She saw a woman with light reddish hair, one of the women who worked in her department. “Excuse me,” Mary tried to use her best German. “Yes,” the woman said, lifting her chin slightly. “Do you know where I would be able to find a roster of the names of the prisoners interned here?” “Yes,” the woman said, smiling politely. “You can go to the secretary of Count Oberst. They are filed at his office.” Mary gulped, trying to conceal her fear. “Thank you. That is all I need to know.” “Are you feeling well?” the woman asked. “I’m okay, thank you.” Mary bravely wore a smile and turned to go. She would have to talk to Elsa, the blonde secretary of Count Max von Oberst. She hoped the Count would not be in his office. She didn’t want to run into him, fearing that he may recognize her. He was one of their enemies during the past several adventures Mary had been on. Mary had sensed a darkness in him when she had last seen him and she was sure that darkness had not left since then. She asked around until she found where Elsa’s office was located. Tentatively, Mary knocked at the door. “Come in,” Elsa said. Mary pushed the door open to find Elsa seated at a desk in front of a typewriter. The alphabet stamps were smacking a sheet of paper, beating out sentences rapidly like a Gatling gun. Elsa typed away for half a minute before she looked up. “Could I ask of you a favor?” Mary said, trying to hide her nervousness.

“Anything. What is on your mind?” Elsa said, smiling brightly. Somehow, her smile seemed a little fake, but Mary could not stop now. Mary said, “Would you mind finding for me a list of the most recently interred prisoners? I’d like to make some calculations.” “That may be hard to do,” Elsa said, biting her lower lip. “Count Oberst keeps those files in a locked cabinet in his office. But, I have the key. Will you promise not to tell anyone? I’ll do this for you because I’m also curious too. Perhaps, we can review them together?” Mary wasn’t sure about reviewing them with Elsa, but she realized that would be better than having no access to them. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.” “Let me finish up this document and then we can take a look.” “Okay. I’ll wait,” Mary said as she took a seat near the office door. She noticed the door leading to Count Oberst’s office, which was made of maple wood, had a deadbolt. Strange. Was he paranoid about something? A few minutes later, Elsa walked over to the maple wood door and reached into a pocket in her dress, withdrawing a ring of keys. She tapped on the door and waited. No one answered. Elsa unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. Mary followed Elsa into a large office filled with filing cabinets, bookshelves, and a handful of chairs. Max von Oberst’s desk rested by a wall beneath a huge painting of a the city of ancient Babylon. The painting depicted the invasion of the Medes and Persians mentioned in the book of Daniel. In one corner of the painting, there was a cutaway view of a room filled with richly arrayed Babylonian officials with curled beards. Handwriting of God appeared on the wall inside the palace of Belshazzar, the last king of Babylonian Empire. It was the handwriting warning Belshazzar that his kingdom would be divided among the Medes and the Persians. That is a unusual painting for a Prussian officer to have on his wall, Mary thought. An oak table with six chairs occupied the center of the room. A map appeared on the only wall that was clear of shelves and cabinets. It displayed Europe. Someone had shaded nearly half of the European countries with a dark pencil. The words “Schwarze Flamme” were scrawled across Europe in what appeared to be black paint. Small teardrops of paint had trailed down the paper, leaving short tails from the black letters. Elsa slipped the key into one of the cabinets. Reaching into a long drawer, she flipped through folders. Her hands stopped at one in particular and she pulled it out. “This is what you are looking for,” Elsa said, as she slid the drawer back, letting it click shut, locking back into place. “Let’s go before the Count returns,” Mary suggested. Elsa nodded and walked toward the door leading back into her office.

Before Mary passed through it, she quickly looked back at Oberst’s office. A tremor ran through her body and she shuddered. Something very dark and evil seemed to lurk within. Mary didn’t want to ever set foot in there again. Elsa opened the large envelope and pulled out some documents. She spread them across her desk. “Come over here and have a seat,” Elsa said, motioning for Mary to join her on the same side of the desk. Together, the two women looked at the documents, scanning through them rapidly. Mary let traced a line down the paper with her finger, starting with the surnames Kaase, Kadel, Kahr, etc. It didn’t take long before Mary reached Kirsch. Surprisingly, there were a few Kirsches. Kirsch, Alfred; Kirsch, Alheid; Kirsch, Andrew. Andrew Kirsch. Mary tried to surpress her joy at seeing her dad listed in the names. She let her eyes rove to the right and she saw some data arranged in the same row as her father’s name. The prison camp he was located at, D2; the prisoner number, 257B; and the date he was brought into Wurzel Anlage appeared in crisp German typewriter font. Mary memorized the numbers with her sharp mind, mentally repeating them to herself. Next, she wanted to find Sam, but she couldn’t rush from the K-section to the W-section of the prisoner surnames without drawing unwanted attention from Elsa. As Mary pretended to be interested in the other names on the list, her eyes caught something she had not noticed before. In her rush to memorize the numbers, Mary had missed seeing a sentence in German scrawled in tiny font beside Andrew’s name. She squinted at it now, trying to read the small scribbled letters: Entsorgen Andrew Kirsch, sobald die Zeit es erlaubt. Dispose Andrew Kirsch, once the time permits. Count Oberst wanted to kill her father as soon as he got a chance. Fear clutched at her heart, but then anger took its place. That Prussian pig wanted to kill her father! And, most likely Sam too. She could not let that happen. A knock came at Elsa’s office door that moment. “Come in,” Elsa said loudly. The door opened and a jackboot clapped against the floor. Mary’s stomach churned. “Well, what do we have here?”

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Chapter 8

Blam. Blam. Plunk. Plunk. Two shots punched through the metal just inches from Sam’s chest. The black-uniformed officer had regained his weapon and was now walking toward them, firing. They were trapped with nowhere to go. The walls of the deep shaft and the rows of nearby Falken were hemming them in like the bars of a prison. Before Sam could inhale one more breath, the aircraft started to rise from the ground, hovering upward. For a moment, the officer cursed and swore, shaking his fists. Then, Andrew eased back on a lever and the Falke shot upward, ascending rapidly through the air. A strange kind of vertical propulsion levitated the vehicle without causing it to wobble or stray from its vertical path. Sam saw the mouth of the shaft slip below him and a valley between two large mountain peaks appeared below. Evergreen trees marched up the sides of the mountains and filled the valley. In the distance more mountains could be seen, forming a rugged, lumpy landscape. Andrew checked his auriga while Sam tried took in the scenery through the bubble canopy. He had never been in such a craft before. What would his friends think of this? After nearly nine minutes of vertical ascension, a beeping sound suddenly filled the cockpit. The circumference of the Earth could clearly be seen. The continent of Europe lay spread out below like a vast canvass. Cumulus clouds appeared here and there, like sheep in a pasture. Andrew turned his attention to the controls and the display screen built into a

small dashboard. “The controls are warning us that we are being targeted,” Andrew said. Suddenly, a metallic plinking sound came from the wings. Sam turned his attention to them and saw holes appear in the metal surfaces. “We’re being fired upon!” Sam shouted. “We need to move laterally, not vertically.” “I’m working on it,” Andrew said, tensely. Ping. Ping. Ping. More bullet holes filled the wing. Before Sam could say any more, the aircraft shot forward, shoving Sam into his seat. He had the sensation of speed. Sam noticed straps of a safety harnass lying to either side. He quickly fastened it into place around his chest and waist. “You might want to put on your harnass,” Sam cautioned. “I can’t now,” Andrew replied, his eyes darting from the instruments to the cockpit. He turned a joystick to the left and the Falke banked sharply to the left, causing him to slide to the right. Sam glanced back through the canopy and saw another aircraft in pursuit. The officer must have had some experience flying the machine. Sam noticed, for the first time, on the left wing of the pursuing Falke the same symbol that the bald officer had displayed on his sleeve. Three black teardrop-shaped hooks, which curved to the right, appeared on the wing in a tight triangular formation. A burst of orange light spouted from a hole in the nose of the aircraft and streaks of light ripped through the air. Before a split second had passed, the bullets ripped into the side of Andrew’s fuselage. Andrew reached for the throttle and increased speed. The jet engine burned a little hotter and the craft rocketed forward like a race horse dashing off from the starting line. The bullets wizzed by overhead and Andrew banked to the right. The mountain range below passed by rapidly. Sam now knew what if felt like to be a bullet shot from a gun. Sam turned back to see if they were being pursued. He couldn’t see anything in the distance, just blue sky and clouds. “Do you see him?” Andrew asked, keeping his eyes forward. “No,” Sam said. “I think we lost him.” “Hopefully, we--” Plink. Plink. Plink. Metal struck metal, ripping into the fuselage. Suddenly, black smoke started to pour from the bullet holes and the jet engine caught fire. The shrill beeping sound erupted. “We’ve been hit. The controls indicate that we are losing power. Sam, we’re losing altitude.” Sam’s pulse pounded through his veins. His arm hair was standing on end.

After all they had been through, now they were on their way to meet the grim reaper.

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Mary’s skin tingled and the hairs on her neck were standing on end. “Count Oberst,” Elsa said in German. “I was just helping train a new employee.” Max von Oberst stood in the doorway with a slight grin on his face. A goatee with a black, upturned handlebar mustache covered the front part of his face, circling his mouth. The rest of his face was clean shaven and his head was bald. The count could grow hair, but he chose to shave it off. Standing imposingly in his black uniform, Max took a step forward. “Elsa,” Max said smiling at her, “would you care to join me for dinner? A girl should not be left to eat alone.” “I should be delighted to join you,” Elsa said, smiling back. “Very good. I will see you at 6:15.” Elsa nodded, maintaining her smile. Count Oberst stepped back toward the door, but stopped before he opened it. He looked at Mary for a few seconds. To Mary those seconds lasted for what seemed to be minutes. At last, Max muttered something under his breath and left, shutting the door behind him. Elsa looked at Mary and she exchanged her look. “Does he know you, or something?” Elsa asked. Mary turned back to her list, pretending like she didn’t hear the question. She had to maintain her composure if she was to survive and find Sam and her father.

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It was night time, but one would not know that in the massive cavern used by the Black Flame. The massive ceiling lights that brightly illuminated the cavern during the “daytime” period were dimmed at “night”. A figure dressed in black left the barracks where Sam, Andrew, John, and Ansgard were staying. He pasted himself against buildings as the searchlights in the guard towers scanned the work camp. The barbed-wire fence surrounding the hamlet-sized camp was the least of his worries. Once the patch of light had moved on, leaving the grounds dark, the figure moved off. Stealthily making his way from building to building, trying to stay

in shadow, he presently arrived at his goal. The fence had to be at least ten feet high. The man pulled something from his belt and with a pair of wire cutters began to quickly snap his way through the fence. A few quick cuts, and he was off. He crawled through the small hole in the wires and hurried toward a boulder. He waited behind it while a searchlight on a nearby guard tower scanned the patch of ground he had just left. The light moved on. Good. Now was the time to move. The man in black moved from one boulder and from stalagmite to stalagmite. Moving slowly and cautiously this way, he reached the perimeter of the train yards. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, he followed the perimeter until he reached the massive main office building. A miniature skyscraper of brick and stone, the main office building housed all the officers, clerks, and book keepers required to oversee the facilities and personnel at Wurzel Anlage. A good-sized formal garden with beech, oak, and walnut trees, grass, and small ponds surrounded the massive building. The man in black stepped behind a tree and observed the guards standing at the doors to the main entrance. A wrought iron gate enclosed a portion of the garden near the main entrance to the building. He had noticed that a small patrol consisting of two soldiers circled around the estate every five minutes. The spy moved from tree to tree until he reached the edge of the brick building. He pulled a small pistol-like object from his belt and aimed up at the overhanging eave some stories above. Zing. The device fired, shooting a grappling hook toward the eave. A small plink sounded as a grappling hook fastened to a thin rope caught hold of the eave. The pistol-like grappling gun had a build-in winch mechanism. A powerful spring, when accessed, caused the winch mechanism to wind up the rope. The man in black activated it by releasing a catch and the grappling gun tugged him upward. He held onto the gun handle tightly, knowing that his life depended on it. At the fifth floor, he replaced the catch, causing the winch to stop winding up the rope. The man pulled a razor-sharp knife from a sheath on his belt and started making some precise cuts in the window, as best he could with one hand. Once complete, the spy replaced his knife and gently pressed on the window and a circular section fell inward, shattering on a wood floor. The man slipped through the hole defty, landing quietly on his feet. He was inside an empty bedroom. Shards of glass were scattered over the floor, thanks to him. The man in black kicked some shards away so that he wouldn’t have to step on any and make unnecessary sounds. A bed with a bare mattress rested against the back wall of the room. A dozen old chairs and tables were shoved into one corner and covered with a thin layer of dust. Clearly, the room hadn’t been used for anything other than storage. The

spy discreetly stepped up to the bedroom door and pressed his ear to its oak surface. He could hear the rhythmic sounds of a clock ticking down a hall. No other sounds came to his ears for the next two minutes as he listened. He inched the door open and peered through the gap down a hallway. A few doors lined it on either side. At the far end lay a living room where a grandfather clock was ticking away the time, resting snug in a corner beside a bookshelf. The man in black inched down the hallway, listening for the faintest sound. He approached a door near the end and pressed his ear up against it. From within came a snore. He back tracked to the next door up and listened with his ear up against it. No sound. With care, he cracked it open and found himself looking into a darkened study. A roll top desk rested beside a painting of a forest fire. Bookshelves lined the walls perpendicular to the painting. The man in black slid the roll top back, glad it was unlocked. He started sliding the smaller drawers open in the portion of the desk above the desk top. They carried stationary, but nothing unusual. Most of the lower, larger drawers were full of papers, screw drivers, and junk. One was left which he had not opened yet. The spy reached for it without hesitation. Just as he did, a clicking sound came from behind him. An angry voice said, “Nicht bewegen. Heben Sie Ihre Hände.” Do not move. Raise your hands. The spy guessed that the upset Prussian had a revolver aimed at his back. His mind racing, the spy started some calculated guesswork as he raised his hands ever so slowly. “Drehen Sie sich um.” Turn around. The Prussian ordered. “Was hast du gesagt?” What did you say? The spy asked quietly. “Ich sagte Ihnen--” I told you to-- Before the Prussian could finish his sentence, the spy ducked suddenly, turned, and sprang toward the Prussian, who was a burley man in his mid-forties. The spy’s fist connected with the Prussian’s stomach, causing the man to double over in pain, dropping his revolver. The spy sent an uppercut to the jaw, knocking the Prussian unconscious. The burley man fell to the floor and the spy caught him just before he landed hard. Gently, the spy set him down. He ripped a huge strip from the Prussian’s undershirt and used it to gag his foe. With another strip, the spy tied the man’s beefy hands together. Next, he tied the Prussian’s leg to a metal handle which had been screwed into the side of the roll top desk. Now, back to the drawer. The spy reached in and started pulling out papers, dropping them on the floor. At last, he found a cream-colored folder with a

stenciled label. It was just what he had come for. He flipped it open to take a quick peek at the contents. All seemed to be in order. The spy flipped it shut and clutched it tightly. His belt full of tools felt light it had loosened, so he tightened it a little more. He felt to make sure all his tools were still there. Assured of this, he reentered the hallway and headed toward the main door of the apartment suite. Outside in a long hallway which was richly decorated with expensive paintings and red carpeting, the spy considered his mission and the time he had left. He had to hurry: lives lay on the line.

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A knock came at the door: several loud raps. Mary awoke, squinting in the darkness. The knocking continued. Who was knocking at her door at such an early hour? It felt like one or two in the morning. Mary rolled over and dropped her feet to the ground. She stood, feeling her heartbeat quicken. She was still wearing her uniform dress and uniform shirt, always aware of the danger she was in and the potential need to leave at a moment’s notice. She opened the drawer of her dresser where she had placed her charcoal-black wool jacket and donned it. Last, she slipped on her shoes. In the living room, Mary reached for the door cautiously and opened it. Standing before her was a man dressed in black trousers, a black jacket, and a black tuque. A bit of his blonde hair poked from under the tight-fitting, knitted wool cap. His face was coated with soot or some kind of black powder. Somehow, in spite of the soot, he looked familiar. “Ansgard,” Mary said, “is that you?” Ansgard placed a finger to his lips. “Shh. Not so loud. Can I come in?” Mary opened the door wider, allowing the Swede to enter. The door closed and King Oscar’s spy started speaking. Ansgard said in a whisper, “I’ve connected with an underground network of people who are disgruntled with the Black Flame and who are secretly alliged with monarchs and rulers who are unaware of the Order’s plans. Most of the rulers of Europe are not even aware of the Order’s existence. We had thought some of them were aware, but very few are actually aware and those who are aware are in league with the Order.” Mary looked at him curiously. “The rulers of Europe are not aware?” “That is correct. The Order has been around for a long time, but it has changed names over the centuries and has more recently gone into extreme secrecy. The militaries of Europe are decades behind the frightening military forces being created in places like Wurzel Anlage, here. Europe is a sitting duck ready to be

shot and roasted.” Ansgard cleared his throat and held up the folder. “Mary, I have obtained a copy of some plans for military domination of Europe by the Black Flame. The Black Flame is the Order’s plan to wipe out every form of resistance to a global government, including wiping out every one who claims to be a born-again Christian. The armies of the Black Flame are will soon begin a series of attacks on towns and villiages throughout Europe. They are being prepared for this right now.” Mary nodded, remembering what she had seen in the motion picture. “What should I do?” Mary asked. “Three nights from now at this time,” Ansgard said, “I will meet you right here and take you to the train yards. You will meet up with John, Sam, and your father. Together, with a few others, we will make our escape.” Before Mary could respond, Ansgard opened the door and left, closing it softly behind him. After he left, she tried to go back to sleep, but her sleep was fitful the rest of the night. Dreams of burning buildings and screaming people troubled her until the early hours of the morning. The next few days would crawl by as Mary worked at her dreary job filling out forms and thoughts of her escape would haunt her mind. The things she was about to witness were so profound and so bizarre that few would believe her if she told them.

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Black smoke poured from the wound in the side of the jet aircraft as it plunged toward the ground. Inside, Sam and Andrew prayed fervently while Andrew looked over the controls. He was looking for some kind of safety feature. He had heard about the invention of the parachute. Leonardo da Vinci had invented a pyramidal parachute back in the renaissance era. Since then, a few men had experimented with parachutes with little to no success. Often, they would jump off tall buildings or cliffs without slowing much. Andrew hoped that the designers of the Falke would have thought of a parachute. They had come up with a flying machine that was propelled by a jet engine. Why not install a parachute? “Andrew,” Sam said through clenched teeth, “pray for me. I don’t know God.” But, Andrew was already praying silently, and praying fervently with his eyes glued on the controls. It was the first time for Sam to admit that, but he knew deep within himself it

was true. He did not know his Creator. Sam had been raised in a culture where nearly everyone went to church on Sundays. He had heard the Gospel several times, but had never applied it to himself. But now, with the thought of death looming up on him, Sam was starting to feel the urge to get right with God. He started praying fast, not knowing exactly what he was saying. His mind was filled with an overwhelming fear that fought to take complete control. God help us! Sam thought, his mind screaming with fear. The jagged peaks of the Alps were like the incisors of a lion, ready to tear the aircraft to pieces. They were getting closer and closer. Just as the aircraft was about to hit the ground, something marvelous happened. The engines spouted out a blast of hot exhaust and Andrew yanked back on the joystick. The Falke pulled up just five feet above the ground. The fire spouting from the puncture suddenly went out and the smoke was swept away by the wind. The Falke barely cleared the uppermost branches of some pine trees as it zipped through the air at an incredible speed. Sam let out a whoop. Some agency had miraculously restored the engines and put out the flames. But who? Sam smiled, as he realized the answer. Thank you, God, Sam thought. Thank you for everything! The jet aircraft sped up as Andrew increased the throttle.

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“Pray for me, Andrew,” Sam repeated, looking out the canopy at the Alpine terrain. “We almost died.” Sam paused for half a minute before he added, “I don’t want to go to Hell.” “Sam, do you want to get saved?” Andrew said, turning back toward him. “Yes,” Sam said, nodding vigorously. He was resolved to do it. He had been in danger many times before, but nothing like just a moment ago. “Sam, listen closely,” Andrew said. “Repent from your sins. Believe that Jesus Christ is God’s Only Begotten Son who came as a man to die for your sins and mine. He shed his blood to pay for your sins: believe that. Believe that he, being God, rose from the dead on the third day. You need to confess that you believe this and accept Jesus Christ’s death in your place, knowing that you cannot pay for your own sins. Ask God for Jesus Christ to be your Savior and Lord.” “Dear God,” Sam said, closing his eyes tightly, “I repent from my sins. Please save me. Please save me. I believe in Jesus Christ dying for my sins and rising from the dead. I believe that only Jesus can pay for my sins and I accept His death to pay for my sins. I believe. I believe. God, please give me a chance. I

don’t want to die. Please forgive me. I make Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior. Just, please give me a chance.” Tears were starting to stream down Sam’s cheeks. It was the first time he had cried in the presence of a fellow man. He blinked and wiped the salty streaks away. Strangely, he felt the same as he had before. Nothing seemed to change now that he had prayed, but he believed that Jesus Christ, God’s Son, had paid for his sins and that if Sam were to die right then, he would enter Heaven. Sam looked back through the canopy and gazed at the blue sky. The jet Falke piloted by the black-clad Prussian was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, the officer had assumed they had crashed. After a few minutes of pregnant silence, Andrew said, “Sam, you are now a child of God. All praise be to God on high!” “Yes,” Sam said, nodding. The tear streaks stung his eyes, but Sam never felt so good. He didn’t know where the joy came from, but he didn’t care. God had saved him. “Sam,” Andrew said, “where should we go to now? We can’t return to the base by plane.” Sam felt his heart being tugged back. He thought of the only girl he had ever loved who had loved him back. She was somewhere. He had not seen her in the underground base. She had not come with them in the coffins. Perhaps, she was still in the little town of Bruck an der Mur, Austria. “Let’s return to Bruck,” Sam said. “We can land this thing somewhere and catch a train. I think Mary is there.” “Bruck it is,” Andrew said as he shoved the throttle lever forward even more. The engines roared louder. “The first problem we have to solve: which direction is Bruck at?” “Do you have a compass?” Sam asked. “Yes.” “What direction are we heading toward?” “Northeast,” Andrew replied, glancing at a compass he had found lying on the floor. Outside the cockpit, a vast rugged landscape of forested and white-capped mountain peaks encircled them, spreading out into the distance. Beyond them lay the flatter farming lands surrounding Munich, Germany. Andrew studied the landscape and guessed his general location to be somewhere roughly sixty-five miles southwest of Munich. “We need to go east,” Sam said, after making some mental calculations. “East it is,” Andrew said, nudging the joystick in an easterly direction. They were unarmed, unequipped, and unprepared, but they had to find Mary and perhaps attempt to rescue John, Ansgard, and Bjord.

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Black smoke spouted from the smokestack in a dense cloud. A shovel clanged against the metal floor of the tender car as the fireman scooped up a shovelful of coal. He opened the firebox and unloaded the fuel as quickly as he could. The heat from inside scorched his arm hairs, melting them, as he deposited another load of coal. He cursed, wishing he had never been born. The black locomotive, engine number thirteen, charged across the alpine landscape, hugging the mountainsides, seeking its destination like a demon from Hell. The Pullman cars in its train were mostly empty except for three men of power and great wealth; their servants; and eighteen body guards. Six body guards per power broker. The other rich man had remained behind to continue plans for their conquest of Europe. A man with the upturned handlebar mustache, goatee, and the oiled, black hair walked from his private Pullman car and stepped across a small bridge between the cars. It was one of the many innovations his scientists had developed to make life easier. With the wind tugging at his three-piece suite, he yanked open the door of the next Pullman car and stepped in. He straightened his hair with an ivory comb and briefly touched the brown mole that rested above his nose. He really wished he could remove it somehow. He hated any imperfections in his skin. “Mr. Schlimm,” a servant said, bowing slightly. “Where are the others?” Schlimm asked. “They are in a corner booth. I can assist you in locating them, sir.” “No need,” Schlimm said. He strode briskly across the red carpeted floor, past sofas and specially constructed bookshelves with cabinet doors. Reaching a narrow hallway with fairly roomy chambers, Schlimm hurried over to a door and knocked. “Come in,” a voice said, partially muffled, from inside. He opened the door and found the two other power brokers seated at a table playing a game of cards. Cigar smoke hung heavy in the room, like fog in a bay. Neither of the two looked up as he entered. One of the men, the man with the gray hair and beard, smirked. “Mauvais,” he said, “you have just lost five thousand francs. I expect to be paid that in pounds a week from now.” Mauvais, a French nobleman with a prominent nose and longish dark brown hair, which dropped down a couple inches past his earlobes, scooted back from the table, stroking his pointy goatee.

“Cattivo, that is such a small amount,” Mauvais said, “I could pay you that each week for the rest of my life and I would never run out of assets. How much time do you suppose it would take for one of the members of the proletariat to obtain just half of that sum?” “Nearly a decade of hard work,” Cattivo said, chuckling softly. Schlimm cleared his throat loudly and the two seated men turned to face him. “Yes,” they said in unison. Schlimm looked at Mauvais and did his best to hide a scowl. The fact that he despised Mauvais was hard to disguise. Perhaps, it was the Frenchman’s facial hair, a pointy goatee, which reminded Schlimm of a devil’s goatee, that annoyed him. Perhaps, it was his French accent or the way Mauvais chose to interrupt Schlimm on occasion. Despite all this, in Schlimm’s mind, Mauvais was a necessary evil. However, once the conquest of Europe would start--and it would start very soon--Schlimm planned on having his partner in business exterminated. Schlimm shook his head slightly, to clear his mind, and then said, “Gentlemen, we must make a slight change to our plans. A little incident has occurred in our main production center. We must see that nothing like it ever happens again and we must set the invasion to happen much sooner.” “Or,” Mauvais interrupted, “we should roll out the big guns first before we bring out the main force.” Schlimm winced slightly. He felt like throttling Mauvais’s throat, but he restrained himself. They had to work together as a team until he could dispose of the Frenchman. “That would be a foolish decision,” Cattivo, a millionaire Italian, said. He came from a powerful Italian clan which claimed to trace its family line back to Julius Caesar. “If we bring in the troops first, it will be obvious,” Mauvais argued. “We can just simply eliminate everyone all at once and have Europe for ourselves.” “Enough,” Schlimm barked, spittle flying from his lips. “We will follow through with our original plans, but we will set the starting date to tomorrow.” The Frenchman and the Italian both eyed the tall Prussian nobleman. “Tomorrow?” Cattivo said. “We are visiting the plant today, gentlemen,” Schlimm said. “There has been a change of plans to our original route.” “The invasion happening tomorrow? You think you can just have the troops ready like that,” Mauvais said, snapping his fingers for effect. “Yes,” Schlimm said confidently. “Within twenty four hours, the first battalians will be initiating the conquest of Europe.”

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Chapter 9

Whack. A stick smacked into the neck of a Prussian guard, knocking him unconscious. John Wallis cringed at the sound. “Did you have to hit him so hard?” he asked Ansgard. The muscular, bonde Swede was again atired in his black clothes. His black tuque was pulled down over his ears. Ansguard dropped the stick and dragged the unconscious soldier away from the office door, inside. They were inside the massive, spacious terminal building filled with trains. The only people around were a handful of guards which were spread thin throughout the building. It was fairly easy for Ansgard to evade them. John stepped into the office which bordered the expansive unloading / loading area. He caught a glimpse of a jackboot slipping through a closet door. A minute or two later, Ansgard emerged, dressed in the gray uniform, carrying a bolt-action model 1871 Mauser. A pickelhaub helmet rested snugly on his head, the spike poking into the air. He could easily pass for a Prussian infantryman, John thought. “I’ll have to find an officer uniform for you,” Ansgard said as he shut the closet door. “I might be too old to be an officer,” John said. “I am almost 70, after all.”

“You look like you’re in your late fifties,” Ansgard said, walking toward a doorway which led into a hallway. John followed. “Do you know how to operate a locomotive?” Ansgard asked as he walked. “I have some experience, but I am no expert. Out of curiosity, I asked an train engineer how he--” “Good enough,” Ansgard interrupted. “I can shovel coal.” At the end of the hall, Ansgard, turned to John. “John,” Ansgard said, his muscles tense, “I have information that your grandson and Andrew are missing. My contacts assure me that they were seen descending into a top secret section of this base, several stories below us. We can hope they are safe, but I fear the worst.” John frowned and lowered his head. “I sure hope the lad is safe. I pray he is not in harm’s way. Ansgard, when did you find this out?” “Just an hour before we left.” “May God have mercy on Sam,” John said softly with a trembling lip. “I hate to leave him, but I don’t see how I could be of any help in attempting to rescue him. He is beyond my reach. Only God can help him now.” “We have to hurry. I need to make some quick changes to the train schedule,” Ansgard said as he pulled opened the door at the end of the hall. The room was filled with filing cabinets, charts, maps, and paper forms. A number of telegraph machines sat on a long table beside the wall. Beside them rested some typewriters ready to go. A train dispatcher’s chart stretched across the wall in front of the long table. Ansguard scanned slowly across it, reading the fine print. To John it looked like a set of long, paralleling lines with diagonal lines appearing here and there. A huge roll of paper drew the Swede’s attention and he hurried over to it and began to slowly unravel the roll with carefulness, as if it contained instructions to a priceless treasure. After a while of studying the railway hieroglyphics, Ansgard stepped back and placed his hand on his chin. “John, I think we have something more to worry about than your grandson.” John wrinkled his brow. “What do you mean?” Ansgard darted his eyes to the right and left before saying, “It seems the Order is soon to ignite Europe with the flames of war. The train schedules match up with the rumors I was hearing from my contacts.” “War,” John said, deep in thought. “It has been years since Europe was engulfed in war. The Order plans on doing this soon?” “Within a week or two,” Ansgard said. John stopped his train of thought and his eyes locked on Ansgard’s. “We need to find Mary and get out of here,” John said firmly. “Now.”

“I’ll get Mary. Engine number 52 is scheduled to leave at 11:00 in the morning. It is most likely all hooked up and ready to go. Can you get it steamed up?” “I’ll try,” John said, wishing he had not said he could operate a locomotive. He hoped he wouldn’t encounter any guards on Engine 52. A seventy-year old is not meant to fight with his fists. If only he was 40 again.

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With crackling roar, the Falke descended vertically onto a flat rock that jutted out from a wooded mountainside. The craft came to a stop and the engines whirred down. The canopy rose upward on pistons and the two hijackers dropped onto the ground, but not before snatching the black leather greatcoats from their seats. It was good the Order had thought of their pilots’ comfort. During the plane ride, both Sam and Andrew had started to get really cold due to their altitude. Andrew didn’t know if the aircraft had a heater or not. They donned the leather coats, finding them just about the right size. Sam stretched and fought off a yawn. He had worked hard in the factory at Wurzel Anlage, not to mention undertaking a harrowing escape from the underground facility. Sam felt the need for a nap, but the urgency to find Mary gave him enough of an adrenaline boost to keep going. He hoped she was safe. “Sam,” Andrew said, “we can’t leave that machine there too long. Someone from the village might run into it if they go hiking on this mountain.” A hiking trail appeared through the ferns just a few feet up the side of the mountain from the flat rock. A short section bent off the main trail and descended to the rock. Sam nodded. “Let’s go.” Together, the two men set off on a hike that took them through nearly five miles of verdant woodland punctuated by scenic vistas of the green-clad, frosted Alps which looked more picturesque than a painting. Birds chirped and fluttered from the branches overhead, temporarily putting Sam’s mind at ease. Every single critter had the fingerprint of its Creator. Tree squirrels nimbly darted and skittered across the tapering branches of pines overhead. Eventually, the five miles passed and the escapees gazed down from a hill into the small town of Bruck an der Mur, Austria. Situated at the junction of the Mur and Mürz rivers, the sleepy village looked like a place one would go to just to get away from the business of big city life. Little people and horse-drawn implements meandered through the streets. Wispy, gray smoke curled from a tall factory chimney near the Mürz riverbank. Sam squinted at the town, trying to remember where the hotel they had stayed at was located.

“I hope my daughter is down there somewhere,” Andrew said. “She will be worried sick about us.” “Let’s go back to the inn and ask the innkeeper where she went,” Sam suggested. “No. That is too dangerous. I believe that the Order has spies all over the town. And, the men who abducted us are probably lurking there somewhere,” Andrew said, placing a hand of restraint on Sam’s shoulder. “We will go once the townsfolk have retired to their beds.”

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A man and a woman strode briskly across the train tracks, heading toward the main terminal building. Lights attached to the eaves of train yard buildings created yellow pools here and there. The pair did their best to avoid them, while trying not to look obvious. “Halt,” a soldier said, in German, to the two as his eyes locked onto them from some distance away. He was standing beside a door in the edificial terminal building. A frown was plastered on his face and his beady eyes were squinting as if he were gazing at something otherworldly. “We need to conduct some business in one of the offices here,” said Ansgard, wearing his Prussian soldier’s uniform. “It is past midnight,” the Prussian said. “The offices are closed.” “We are on a special assignment,” Ansgard said, with emphasis and authority. “Who gave you the orders?” “That is on a need-to-know basis only,” Ansgard said, stepping closer. “Please, just give us ten minutes,” Mary pleaded. The soldier noticed her. He looked at her face briefly before he relaxed a little and said, “Okay, but be quick. Come back here in less than ten minutes or I will have you escorted to the cells.” “Thank you,” Mary said. “We will try to hurry.” The guard smirked as stepped away from the door. Mary pulled open the door and passed through, leaving it open for Ansgard to follow. She was in the vast space of the train unloading / loading area. To her surprise every one of the dozens of tracks was occupied by a train. Beside many of the tracks were raised concrete platforms where wooden crates were stacked, waiting to be loaded into boxcars. Mary wandered over to a pile of crates. She noticed stenciled letters on the sides of many of the boxes: Giftgasen. Giftgasen, Mary thought, that is poison gas! The implications were too much to think about, but Mary tried to grasp what

she was seeing. The plans for the Black Flame must include poison as a method of reducing the population of Europe. The thought sickened her and she had to turn away. Thwack! A sound came from just outside the door. The next moment, Ansgard came through, dragging the guard by the feet. “What did you do?” Mary asked, surprised. “I put him to sleep,” Ansgard said. “Don’t worry. He’ll wake up shortly bound and gagged.” Mary waited by the door while Ansgard lifted the Prussian into a boxcar. A few minutes later, the muscular Swede stepped out and wiped invisible dust off his hands dramatically. “He’ll wake up with a headache and a realization that his shirt has been turned into a gag.” “Do you do that to everyone you find to be a nuisance?” Mary asked, half rhetorically. Ansgard looked at her with a little bit of annoyance. “Would you like to deal with him when our ten minutes is up?” Mary didn’t respond. She appreciated Ansgard’s strength and his sense of duty, but his arrogant attitude was starting to get to her. “Come,” Ansgard said. “We need to find Engine 52.” “Why?” Mary asked. “You’ll see,” Ansgard said as he started forward. His long legs covered the ground quickly and Mary had to walk fast and almost jog just to keep up. They passed by the cattle guards of several engines until they came to an engine with a number stenciled in bold white on the front, just below the headlamp: 52. Ansgard held up a hand as he walked cautiously toward a raised platform which paralleled the length of the locomotive. Like the other platforms, wooden crates were stacked in piles here and there. Weaving around them, Andrew quietly approached the cab. He gingerly chambered a round in his Mauser. Mary watched as he cautiously climbed steps leading into the cab. At the top, he peered into the cap for a few moments before looking back in Mary’s direction and giving her a curious look. “What is it?” Mary asked, speaking in German in case someone were to overhear. “The cab is empty,” Ansgard said. “John Wallis was supposed to be here.” Before Mary could say anything, Ansgard stepped into the cap, vanishing from sight. Mary bit her lower lip gently and started trying to run through the

possibilities. What could have happened to John? Also, she wondered about Sam and her father. Where were they? Ansgard had promised to bring them. Was he lying to her? Surely, they should be with Ansgard if he was going to help them escape, but they were nowhere to be found. A hand tapped on Mary’s shoulder, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. “What are you doing here?” a man asked from behind. Mary turned around slowly, trying to keep her hands from trembling. What she saw shocked her.

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Night descended softly, like a black blanket lowering over the land. The stars, like fireflies glowed in the black expanse. A full moon hung over the land, partially shrouded by an ominous cloud. Through the woods coating the hills and nearby mountains, nocturnal animals left their beds to roam and hunt. In the distance, Sam heard some mournful wolf calls. The sounds troubled him, but he tried to ignore his fear as he and Andrew descended the slope toward the edge of the town. The two men started down a dusty road that led between shuttered, sleepy houses and brick business buildings. A dog barked somewhere within the town, yapping at a cat or for some other reason. The dirt road blended into a cobblestone street with bare patches of earth seen here and there where thieves had snatched the stones for personal use. Loose soot-stained brick, crumbling chimneys, and piles of trash dotted the hamlet. It was certainly an old settlement, and at the moment it looked like a ghost town. They reached the street on which the inn they had stayed at was located. A sign appeared in the distance along the row of shops: Das Berggasthaus. That was the place, Sam thought. A hand caught Sam’s arm and tugged. He whipped around ready to strike his attacker, but saw that it was only Andrew. “Sam, hurry,” Andrew whispered, pulling Sam with him into an alley. Huddled in the darkness, they waited. “What is it?” Sam asked. “Shh,” Andrew said, placing a finger to his lips. After a few minutes, footsteps started to approach. Clip. Clip. Clip. A policeman walked past the alley, not noticing the forms hiding within. “We can’t let the authorities see us,” Andrew said, after waiting another minute. “There may be a mole in the police station.” “How will we be able to locate Mary if we can’t contact the police?” Sam said, bewildered.

“There are other ways of obtaining information,” Andrew said, looking around nervously. “Such as?” Sam said. “Let’s go,” Andrew said, without another word. He left the alley and started toward Das Berggasthaus. Keeping to the shadows, the two men carefully headed to the inn, watching for policemen or others who may be about. Upon reaching the inn, Andrew headed toward the alley between the inn and a nearby brick building. “Do you plan on breaking in?” Sam whispered as they approached the rear entrance. Andrew grabbed the handle and found it unlocked. Bruck an der Mur was a small town and have very little crime. The innkeeper probably reasoned that no one would be able to break into the hotel rooms since they were locked, but Andrew had acquired some lock-picking skills during archeological expeditions. One of his colleagues had a bad habit of loosing the keys to his equipment trunk. The big trunk contained most of their equipment and had been lock-picked open many times. Pushing through the unlocked door, the two men found themselves in a hallway lined with doors. One door lay ajar, drawing Andrew’s curiosity. Approaching it, Andrew found it to be a janitorial / tool closet. Inside were shelves filled with tools, scrub brushes, hammers, rolls of wire, nails, wrenches, towels, buckets, etc. Knowing that the night would not last too long, Andrew started quickly selecting some implements that would be of use to him. He would return them to the closet once he was done, so there would be no harm done. “What are you doing?” Sam asked. “You’ll see,” Andrew replied. They reentered the hallway and walked toward the lobby. In the lobby lay the staircase. The men ascended the creaking staircase as delicately as they could, but by no means as silent as a cat. On the top floor, they hurried toward Mary’s former room and Andrew softly knocked on the door before pressing his ear against it. He listened to see if anyone would stand up and walk over to the door. Silenced followed between the pulses of his heartbeat. No sound. No footsteps. Andrew pulled a small coil of wire from his pocket and took the end of the coiled wire and inserted it into the keyhole after bending a length of the wire into a right angle. From his other pocket, he withdrew a thick piece of wire also bent at a right angle. Using both together, he went to work. After nearly five minutes of delicate movements, the lock clicked open and Andrew let out a sigh of relief. He and Sam entered the room quietly.

Thankfully, no one woke up. The room was nice and tidy. The bed was made, the furniture neatly arranged and everything was in order. It didn’t looked like it was used for some time. “We’ll, since she is obviously not staying here,” Andrew said, “we’ll have to wake the innkeeper and ask him if he knows if she left town and where she might have traveled to.” Sam was not listening to Andrew. Instead, he was on his knees, looking under the bed. He had spotted something white protruding from a shadow under the bed. Sam stood up, holding a folded piece of paper in his hands. Unfolding it, Sam scanned over the words, a confused look on his face. “Can you read German well?” Sam asked. “Yes. Let me have a look,” Andrew said, taking the paper from Sam. Andrew squinted at the page and read aloud in English: “Dear Mr. Kirsch, we have a woman by the name of Mary Kirsch in our custody. She was found conducting illegal activities in the Mürz Eisenhütten, an iron forge by the Mürz. Because the city jail is at maximum capacity, we are temporarily holding her in a locked room at the forge, room A2. She is given the best treatment we are able to supply. Please contact the police office promptly. Sincerely, K. R. Adler, Chief of Police.” Sam scratched his chin, deep in thought. “My daughter would never do an illegal activity,” Andrew said angrily. “What is going on here?” “Something doesn’t feel right about this,” Sam said as he gazed at the floor. “It seems like a setup. They are offering us bait so they can catch us.” “Who in this town wants to catch us?” Andrew said. “The police? Why would the police want to put us in jail?” “Not the police,” Sam said. “Someone else.” “The people at Wurzel Anlage couldn’t have told anyone of our escape on such short notice, could they?” Andrew asked. Sam frowned. He wasn’t so sure. Whoever had kidnapped Mary was intent on capturing them. But, if they chose to go along with the “trap”, they might be able to obtain some valuable information about these mysterious individuals without actually getting caught. “Why don’t we just play along with them,” Sam suggested. “We might be able to obtain some important information that way.” Andrew inhaled slowly, thinking. After a moment or two, he said, “I think that is all we can do, Sam.” Andrew walked toward the window and gazed out on the sleeping town bathed in bluish moonlight. “These jokers have my daughter. I’m at their mercy. We’ll have to go to the forge and pray that God guides us to Mary. And, pray that she is unharmed.”

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Hans was standing a few feet away with his hands on his hips. He was in uniform with a peaked officer’s cap on his head. Strangely, he was no longer wearing the gray uniform he had worn before. This one was entirely black, like Count Oberst’s. Beside that, he was pointing a revolver at her. Mary feared that if she screamed, Hans might shoot. “What are you doing here?” Hans asked again. His eyes looked angry and cold. Mary had never seen Hans like that before. “I, I,” She started to say, trembling slightly in fear. “How did you get through a guarded door?” Hans interrupted, looking at Mary with granite-like eyes. “The guard let me in,” Mary said. “I have to do something here tonight.” “Your job is to transcribe. You work in the department of records, correct?” “Yes.” Mary said. “Then, you have no business being here and especially at this late an hour,” Hans said, stepping toward her. He snagged her arm with a vice-like grip and started walking with her toward the direction of the offices which lined one wall of the massive terminal room. “Hans, why are you treating me this way?” Mary asked, trying to maintain a civil, calm attitude while her mind was screaming, Where is Ansgard? He didn’t look her way as he said, “Because, you are out of line. You have broken the protocols and regulations of this military facility.” “Let go of me,” Mary said, raising her voice slightly. Hans ignored her. After half a minute or so, they stepped off the train tracks and onto the raised platform which bordered the offices. Hans shoved her through a door and into a neatly-arranged office with a desk and filing cabinets. He opened another door which revealed a small room in which were shelves piled with boxes. The room was about fifteen feet by eighteen feet in area. He slammed the door shut and released Mary. Standing between her and the only door in the room, Hans looked at her with an evil, gloating expression that she had not seen in him before. Something dark and sinister was at work in this man. Mary felt that something very evil was present, controlling the Prussian officer. Evil seemed to ooze from the pores of his skin like an odor. “You are a very independent woman,” Hans said as he took a step toward Mary and she backed way. “I like that.” She backed up more, looking right and left, seeking for some kind of weapon.

There was none and the likelihood of any success was very low had she obtained even a knife. “Maria, you are a girl much to be desired,” Hans said as he caught her hands and pulled her close to him. Her head was pressed against his chest so that her cry was muffled. She tried to get free, but his hands were strong and his grip firm. Clang, something hard and heavy struck the back of Hans’s head and he flopped backward, his grip instantly loosened from Mary’s wrists. Something behind Mary stopped the unconscious officer from falling to the floor. Mary turned quickly to see who her rescuer was. A big, burly man was holding the limp Prussian in his strong arms, keeping him from falling to the floor. Clenched in one hand was a black crowbar. The muscular man had short, dark hair, and a prominent square jaw. He was clean-shaven and had some deep creases in his face, probably a result of little sleep and hard labor. He wore a light gray worker’s uniform. “Who are you?” Mary asked in German. “Lady, I speak both English and Russian,” the big man said as he slid the unconscious form to the middle of the room. He gently set him down and stood up straight, extending a hand to Mary. Mary shook his hand, feeling his thick hands gently squeeze hers. “I am Ivan Bolotnikov. I am friend of Sam and Andrew. You are Mary Kirsch, no?” Ivan said as he dropped the crowbar. “How did you know I am Mary Kirsch?” Mary asked. Ivan stooped down to the fallen Prussian and began ripping pieces of material from Hans’s undershirt to form a gag and cords. “Your father give me picture of you. He thought you were back at town of Bruck. I suspected not. I didn’t tell him, but I thought you were here.” “He gave you a picture of me?” Mary said, squinting. Tying the shirt-cord around the officer’s wrists, Ivan said, “He drew picture of you on paper. He’s good at drawing. Picture look like you,” the burly Russian said, grinning. “Where are my father and Sam?” Mary asked. “They went down to underground level,” Ivan said. “I overheard officer say that two prisoners escaped base in hawk machine. I guess your father and Sam were those two.” “They’ve escaped this base?” Mary said, her mouth wide open. “Da. I mean, yes,” Ivan said, as he began tying a gag around Hans’s mouth. Mary felt some of the fear leave her at knowing this tidbit of information. “So, what are you doing down here?” She asked. “Ansgard told me to come later,” Ivan said. “I come later and see Prussian pig take you into room. I move quietly like cat. Then, I pounce. You saw what

happened.” “Yes,” Mary laughed. “Yes. Thank you. I really appreciate it.” “Don’t mention it,” Ivan said, waving his hand. Together, Mary and the big Russian emerged from the office and walked quickly toward the locomotive where Ansgard had vanished into. Gray smoke was poring from the stack and small jets of steam plumed from the cylinders which lay just before the front wheels. The train appeared to be ready to move. As Mary and Ivan closed in on the locomotive, a voice shouted, “Stoppen!” Mary and Ivan turned to see a Prussian soldier glaring at them. “What is the meaning of this?” the guard demanded, nodding toward the train. His hands were gripped tightly around his gun and he could raise it at any time to a firing position. “We have need of this train,” Mary said, trying to put as much authority in her voice as she could muster. The guard shook his head. “You must have orders. No trains are to leave before the morning. What are you doing here at this time? And, why is that prisoner with you?” The guard quickly aimed his gun at the pair and said, “I will have to report you. Come with me. Start walking.” A rock landed behind him and he half turned, to see what it was. In that moment, Ivan withdrew a pistol from his belt, which had been concealed by the hem of his uniform jacket. “Hands up,” he said in German, pointing his pistol. Those were some of the few German words he knew, but they came in handy. The soldier, who had been distracted by the rock, had lost his aim on his target. Angrily and reluctantly, he set down his rifle and raised his hands. “You will pay for this,” he spat. Ivan walked up to him, keeping the pistol trained on him and struck him in the back of the head with a meaty fist and Mary winced. As if the soldier were no heavier than a boy, Ivan picked him up with the fireman’s lift technique, carrying the guard across his shoulders. When Mary and Ivan turned back toward the locomotive, they saw a face poking out from the engine cab. John Wallis looked at them as if he had seen a ghost. “Are you alright?” John asked from his perch. “Just barely,” Mary said. “Hurry, and climb aboard,” John said anxiously, motioning with his right arm. “We need to be on our way before we encounter more trouble.” Mary climbed the steps leading up into the cab. “Where should I put this guard?” Ivan asked.

“Do you have to bring him?” John said. “I don’t want him spilling beans,” Ivan said. “Put him in one of the boxcars and tie him up,” John said. “You can do it while we travel.” Ivan grunted and carried the guard toward the nearest boxcar. John snapped his head forward, in the direction of the front of the train. Further down the tracks lay a wall. Slowly, ever so slowly, it was rising. Composed of many jointed sections, it opened like a garage door to expose the dark cavern outside. Ansgard had figured out how to open the door, John thought. Good. Now, he needed to show up. Just then, a Prussian soldier came into John’s view, running at top speed. The soldier shouted in English, “Get the train underway!” It was Ansgard. Behind him, some distance away, five German Shepherds were running in hot pursuit, teeth bared.

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Chapter 10

The moon rippled and undulated on the surface of the Mürz as it slowly wound its way along the edge of town like a snake. The water gurgled and swished near the muddy banks of the river as small whirl pools spiraled around, driven by the force of the mass of moving liquid. Tall bushes by the riverbank rustled as something pushed its way through them. Just a stone throw from the riverbank, a complex of massive buildings mounted up like a cluster of boulders. Tall smoke stacks jutted up from their roofs. No smoke belched forth during the night, but once the clock struck eight, black clouds would pour from the funnels and the factory would begin its daily routine of producing hammer heads, nails, axe heads, and saw blades. From the bushes came more rustling. Then, two men with dirty clothes emerged. Sam brushed a leaf from his hair and stifled a sneeze. His black leather coat was smeared with dirt. Andrew’s was scraped and scratched from squeezing through a barbwire fence. The two men studied the buildings looming ahead, brainstorming for ideas in how to enter. Crushed gravel surrounded the complex. Stacks of large wooden boxes lay

here and there, stenciled with words such as: Sägeblätter, Hammerköpfe, and Nägel. Spools of wire rested up against a large building directly in front of them. As Sam and Andrew approached this structure, Andrew spotted a wire cutter lying beside spool of small-gage wire. A short distance away lay a large service door with a padlock. “Andrew,” Sam said, as he watched Andrew snip off a length of wire, “don’t you find it odd that they would lock Mary up in a factory?” “We may find clues as to Mary’s whereabouts,” Andrew said as he bent a wire into a right angle. “I hope this isn’t some kind of trap,” Sam said, glancing behind him. In a few minutes Andrew had unlocked the door. He dropped the lock on the ground, but stuffed the two right-angle lengths of wire into his greatcoat pockets. You never know when they might be handy again, he thought. A huge room appeared. Windows punched out large square holes high in the walls. Dozens of steam-powered machines, gears, drive belts, iron presses, ovens, blast furnaces, vats, hammers, tongs, iron ingots, and other forge implements cast shadows in the moonlight flooding through the large glass windows. At the far end of the massive room a set of iron stairs ran up to a door high up on the back wall. The stairs were only partially visible, due to all the machinery and forge equipment blocking most of the view. As Sam took it all in, his sense that something was very wrong grew on him. “Andrew, Mary isn’t here,” Sam whispered. “She might have been here,” Andrew said. “We need to just located the room she was staying in, room A2. There has to be some scrap of evidence she may have left behind.” Andrew started to walk forward, but Sam placed his arm across his chest, to block him. “Listen,” Sam whispered. A footstep crunching on gravel was followed by another. Someone was approaching the door they had just passed through. Sam remembered that Andrew had left it open ajar. Sam, as quietly as he could, hurried over to a stack of wooden boxes and hid behind it. Andrew walked behind a large furnace which had a large chimney rising up into the ceiling. No one opened the door and no one came through. Sam waited, his heart pounding. The silence was deafening. Only a hint of a breeze blowing through the door produced a noticeable sound. “Mr. Kirsch and Mr. Wallis,” a voice suddenly said from some unknown place within the massive, crowded room, “welcome to Mürz Eisenhütten.” Sam almost leapt out of his skin.

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Inside the cab, John shoved the throttle forward, and the locomotive began crawling along the track. It took time to get such a massive vehicle underway, and time was very precious to the fugitives on Engine 52. With attack dogs on his tail, and adrenaline surging through his veins, Ansgard charged up to the large, wide-gage locomotive. Just as he climbed the steps, the first of the dogs reached him. A toothy jaw snapped at his boot heels, just an inch away. He reached the top of the steps in the nick of time, breathing deeply. The German Shepherds would not be able to climb the steps, but their barking was a problem. “Are you alright?” Mary asked, looking at the Swede in the Prussian soldier uniform. Ansgard pulled off his pickelhaube helmet and used a handkerchief to daub sweat from his forehead. Returning the cloth to his pocket, he replaced the spiked helmet. “Can you get this machine to accelerate faster?” Ansgard asked John. “I need a fireman,” John said as he studied some gages in the light of a kerosene lantern, which hung from a hook in the ceiling. “I can shovel coal,” Ivan said from some distance behind. Mary turned to see the Russian walking across the large piles of coal in the tender. He had just left the boxcar attached onto the end of the tender. When Ivan reached the spacious locomotive cab, John pointed at a shovel. Without a word, Ivan rolled up his sleeves and went to work. “Where are the soldiers?” Mary asked Ansgard. “I took care of them,” the Swede replied. “They are locked away. I didn’t realize there was a kennel with an open gate. I just noticed it at the last moment before the attack dogs came out.” Mary looked down at the dogs who were walking at the same pace as the train, barking fiercely. “I hope they don’t draw any more soldiers our way,” she said. “They will,” Ansgard said wryly. By this time, the train was moving at a steady clip, gaining speed. Mary leaned out and looked forward. The massive door to the terminal building was starting to close. Lowering like a closing mouth, it threatened to cut off their retreat. “John, look ahead,” Mary said. “The doors are closing.” Someone must have spotted them. John opened the throttle wider and the train gained speed. It went from twelve

miles per hour to fifteen, and then eighteen. The gap was diminishing. The speed increased from eighteen to twenty five while puffs of smoke shot up into the air like rapid breathing. Hitting a speed of forty, the locomotive shot through the gap between the door and the ground, pulling seven boxcars behind it. The door barely scraped the rear edge of the last boxcar before it slipped through. Steaming through the cavern like someone being pursued by an army of bees, the locomotive charged toward a wooden barricade painted with white and red stripes. Crashing through the wood as if it were a twig, the iron beast left the rail yard and headed for the open terrain of the cavern, winding around stalagmites and buildings. In a short time, it had reached a speed of fifty-five miles per hour, rushing headlong for a tunnel mouth in the far wall of the cavern. All the factories and processing plants were silent. No steam or smoke issued from their stacks or pipes. The gears, cranks, and pistons that protruded from some of the buildings were motionless. Mary hoped they would remain that way. She hoped the whole cavern had a cave-in, but only after the poor prisoners had escaped. The Black Flame had to be snuffed out. The air rushed past the sides of the cab, making their speed seem greater than it was. Soon, the tunnel swallowed them up as if they had descended into a giant’s throat. Blackness, rushing air, and the echoing chug, chug, chug sounds filled the space around them. Something about being inside the locomotive cab was exhilarating to Mary. She found herself enjoying it, even though the thought that they were putting themselves in danger crossed her mind. “You should start slowing her down. We need to find a lifting platform to take us up to the surface,” Ansgard said to John. “Okay,” John said, as he stepped over to the throttle lever. The train began to decrease speed slowly. “We need headlamp lit,” Ivan said as he shut the firebox cover. “You can’t find lift if you can’t see it.” “I’ll light it,” Ansgard said, “but just pray I don’t fall.” He reached into a metal box attached to a wall of the cab and pulled out a box of strike-on-box matches. The Swede stepped out of the cab and carefully walked along the running board, toward the front of the engine. A chugging sound coming from behind caused him to turn. Ansgard’s eyes widened. “We’re being pursued!” he shouted to the people inside the cab. Mary leaned out and gazed down the length of the boxcars trailing behind the tender. Sure enough, a train was coming, moving faster than their engine. The single

headlamp at its front lit up the darkness before it. The number 69 appeared directly below the round light. A short pilot, or cowcatcher, protruded from the front, menacingly. Spouting out from the iron beast’s short throat, clouds of angry, black smoke billowed into the tunnel, rushing backward like a cape. How the agents of the Black Flame had steamed up a locomotive on such short notice was beyond Mary, but there it was. And, it was rapidly approaching.

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The voice had come some somewhere in the expansive, crowded space in the ironworks. Sam and Andrew looked around, apprehensively, trying to catch a glimpse of the speaker, but no one was to be seen. “Where do you have my daughter?” Andrew shouted, angrily. Both fear and anger were apparent on his face. “I trust you read the letter,” the voice said. “We did,” Andrew said. “Where did you put her?” A clicking sound, as of a gun hammer being cocked back, came from behind a shelf sagging under the weight of hundreds of tools. “We will only release your daughter if you pay a ransom,” the voice said. “The letter never mentioned a ransom,” Andrew said angrily. “That is our little secret, Mr. Kirsch.” While Andrew was talking with the mysterious person, Sam had slowly crawled away from the stack of wooden crates and had carefully concealed himself behind a long series of adjoined furnaces. He had walked the length of the furnaces until he came to the end. From his vantage point, he could see a shadowy figure standing behind a long shelf. The man pulled back the hammer of a revolver and was moving toward the corner of the shelf where he would have a perfect opportunity to take a shot at Andrew who had hid behind a large furnace with a wide chimney. “How do I know you’re not bluffing,” Andrew said, clenching his fists. “What if you are lying about having my daughter?” The man with the revolver was moving around the corner, raising his pistol into a shooting position. Sam sprang into action. He ran as fast and as silently as he could. The shooter turned his direction at the last moment, but Sam’s fist was already flying. He struck the thug under the chin, knocking him to the ground. The pistol went flying and Sam hurried over to it, snatching it up. It was an M1870 Gasser, the same kind of pistol used by the spy who he had chased in the port town of Krummendorf, Prussia.

Blam. Blam. Blam. A man who had been hiding in the shadow of a giant steam hammer was firing at him. Sam ducked and rolled. Bullets struck the shelf just inches from his back, splintering wood with loud cracks. Sam sprang to his feet and ran for cover. Blam. Blam. Blam. More shots echoed loudly through the large room and sparks flew from a nearby pair of tongs as bullet struck it. Sam ran toward a large iron vat and darted behind it, just before more shots rang out from another direction. There were two shooters; three if the unconscious man was counted. “Kill them,” the unknown speaker said. “We don’t want them meddling any more with our plans.” Addressing Andrew and Sam, he said, “You both have escaped Wurzel Anlage, but you shall not escape me.” Sam fired back a couple times, but he had only a general idea where the second shooter was located. “Sam,” Andrew shouted, “cover me.” Sam looked around the vat and caught sight of Andrew running, keeping the large furnace between him and the shooters, or trying to. Sam leaned out and waited for the next gunshot. A bright flash came from the direction of a pile of bent and twisted iron refuse. Sam took aim and fired at the flash, but missed. In his periferal vision, Andrew disappeared behind a tall steel cabinet. Sam kept up the surpressing fire, firing in the direction of the gun flash. He ducked behind the vat after a couple more shots. Sam flipped open the revolver cylinder and gulped when he saw only one remaining shell. That one shot had to count. When the two thugs saw that no more surpressing fire was coming from the vat, they began to cautiously move forward. Sam took a quick peek around the vat before plastering himself behind it. Where did Andrew go? Sam knew he couldn’t stay there for long. He noticed three small hammers lying on the ground and an idea came to him. Grabbing one hammer, he threw it toward the back of the room, in the direction of the staircase. A loud crashing sound came as the hammer struck a small pile of junk a dozen yards from the staircase. That sound distracted the thugs long enough for Sam to stuff his gun into his belt and take off running, putting as much machinery between him and them as possible. His legs pumping, feet pounding concrete, and heart racing, Sam zigzagged through the complex maze of forge implements and machinery. He almost

tripped over a few fallen sledge hammers while he held two small ones in his hands. A door appeared to the left a stone throw from the staircase at the rear wall. It was open and Sam saw a man wearing a greatcoat, a blonde beard, and a derby slip through. Sam ran for the door, armed with the hammers. He was either a madman, a reckless fool, or a courageous warrior to pursue the man, but Sam would not let him slip away. Sam grabbed the handle and turned, flinging the door open. It slammed against the outside of the iron works with a loud thud, alerting Sam’s enemy. In the shadow of a nearby building, the bearded man shot an angry glance at Sam before breaking into a rapid sprint, reaching the edge of the gravel which led up to a set of train tracks. Sam followed, running as fast as he could. A ramp crossed the tracks, allowing horse-drawn carts to traverse the tracks for transporting stuff to and from the iron works. A short distance away from the ramp lay a large shed with wide double doors. The double doors were open and something inside was making mechanical sputtering, put-putting, and coughing noises. The man melted into the shadows of the doorway, vanishing inside. Sam was ten yards from the double doors when a strange, motorized vehicle that resembled an unusual version of a bicycle came roaring out of the building. It had a single headlamp that cast a bright, white beam which temporarily blinded Sam. In seconds, it rounded the corner of another large building and disappeared from view. Slightly dazed from the light, Sam blinked to clear his vision. There is something oddly familiar about that man, Sam thought. Another put-putting sound was coming from the shed. Could there be another machine ready to go? “Sam,” Andrew said, coming from the door, “What was that?” “I don’t know,” Sam said as he rushed toward the building. He had to stop that man and find out what had happened to Mary. Andrew followed, casting a quick glance back. The door in the side of the iron works was kicked open and a dark-clad thug came out, brandishing a revolver. Before he had a chance to get off a shot, Sam disappeared into the double-doored shed. Blam. Blam. Two shots struck the ground ahead of Andrew, bullets wizzing past his ears. Andrew was not in as good a shape as Sam, but he still had a lot of stamina and energy for his age. He had run to maintain his health and could sprint fairly fast. Adrenaline spurred him on even faster. A coughing sound came from inside. Andrew entered the building and his eyes adjusted to the dimness. Sam was seated on a strange machine that looked like

a bicycle. Unlike a bicycle, it had a bright headlamp, tires of equal size and wider gage, and a gasoline motor, which took up space under the leather seat. A small, boxy car attached to the frame of the machine rested on a single wheel. It appeared a man could fit in it. “Hop in,” Sam said, indicating the car. A plunk, followed quickly by a gunshot report, came and a hole appeared just a foot away from Andrew’s head. He needed no more pursuasion. Hurring over to Sam, Andrew squeezed himself into the leather seat of the small sidecar. Sam began tinkering with the machine, kicking a lever, pulling on a handgrip, hoping something would happen. He had had the opportunity just two months ago to check out a motorized tricycle at a fair. The inventor had shown him how to shift gears, break, and accelerate. This motorized bicycle was not too different, but the trick was to remember what he had been taught.The machine coughed a few times, but remained stationary. “Sam,” Andrew said. Blam. Another bullet hole appeared. Sam kicked the lever at his foot one more time and the machine started rolling forward. “We’re moving,” Sam said. “Not fast enough,” Andrew said. “Do you want me to try to--” Before he could finish his sentence, Sam turned the right handgrip forward and the machine jumped forward, moving at top speed. Sam almost lost his grip on the handle. He managed to hold on before he could readjust his hand to get a better grip. The ground was bumpy and choppy, but the machine didn’t slow down by much. Gravel spit from under its rubber tires, striking nearby buildings and tracks as the motorized bicycle tore through the complex of factory buildings. It zipped past the structures like a rocket. Sam had enough trouble just steering it in the loose gravel, but now he was faced with a new danger. Up ahead lay a bridge that crossed a small creek. A solid wooden gate spanned the width of the bridge, blocking their route. On either side of the road leading up to the bridge were buildings. Sam had to figure out how to stop the machine before he would hit the gate. Going at this speed, they would likely die if they crashed. Sam squeezed a lever on either handlebar and released the throttle grip, and the machine slid to a stop just a couple feet from the gate. “That was too close,” Andrew muttered, breathing deeply. Sam left the machine idling while he walked up to the gate and lifted a latch to open it and shoved it toward the bridge until it bumped against the bridge railing. Returning to the the cycle, he saw that Andrew was holding onto the handlebars fighting, in vain, to keep the machine from moving. It was put-

putting forward at a slow pace, but appeared to be dragging Andrew with it. “Sam,” Andrew said, “we need to learn how to operate this machine properly. Look at this.” Sam sat back on the driver’s seat. “Let’s go, Andrew.” Andrew quickly returned to the sidecar and the two sped off, blazing across the bridge. Reaching the other side, they found themselves on a dirt road with deep ruts, the result of much wagon and carriage traffic. To the left, lay the town of Bruck an der Mur. To the right lay the Austrian countryside. Where did the cyclist go? Sam wondered. Andrew had the same question in mind. “Sam,” Andrew said. “Let me out. I need to check something.” Sam waited while the archeologist stepped out of the car and walked over to the dirt road in front of them. Kneeling down, he placed his hands lightly against the dirt. Andrew stood up, a slight grin on his face. “Sam, the tracks lead away from the town. North.” “Let’s hurry, then,” Sam said, anxiously. “We’ll need these,” Andrew said, pulling out two pairs of glass-windowed goggles with rubber straps from his sidecar. “Goggles,” Sam said. “Where did you find those?” “They came with the machine. Put them on. You don’t want to get a bug in your eye.”

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Ivan opened the firebox doors with a lever and snatched the shovel. He came back with a full load of coal. The big Russian worked hard, shoveling quickly and the fire roared hotter, but the pursuing train was closing in. Ansgard left the running board without lighting the headlamp. He brushed past Ivan, almost knocking the shovelful of coal from his hands as he dashed across the mounds of coal in the tender. The Swede lept across the gap between the tender and the boxcar, landing on the roof. In an almost fluid motion, he flipped his Mauser around, on its leather sling, into a shooting position and took a shot at the approaching train. Blam. Ping. The bullet ricocheted off the armored plates, leaving only the slightest dent. Mary climbed up onto a high mound of coal and placed a hand to her mouth. Striding along the running boards of Engine 69, Prussian soldiers armed with Mausers were hurrying toward the pilot which was closing the gap. Mary had just caught a glimpse of them as the trains rounded a corner. Ansgard did too.

The Swede was running across the boxcars like an athlete trying to finish a race. He jumped across the gaps between cars and landed hard. On the second-to-the last car, Ansgard, still wearing his Prussian infantry uniform, crouched and took aim at the soldiers. The closest soldier, who was standing near the wedge-shaped pilot was aiming at Ansgard. Blam. The shot missed by a couple feet, the zipping over the tip of Ansgard’s pickelhaube. Ansgard squeezed the trigger. Blam. The report echoed through the tunnel like a miniature cannon. He missed the closest soldier, but he had never intended on hitting him first. One of the rearmost men on the left running board dropped, crashing into the side of the tunnel. Blam. The second to last man dropped. The soldiers at the front didn’t notice that the men watching their backs were dropping dead right behind them. They must have assumed Ansgard was a bad shot. Blam. A bullet perforated Ansgard’s uniform, grazing his soldier. He flinched, but clutched the gun tightly. A little pain didn’t hurt him. Mary couldn’t watch the battle anymore. She wanted to shout to Ansgard to back away, but she knew he would be able to hear her and probably wouldn’t listen. The Swede was making his last stand. Other than Ivan who had a pistol, Ansgard was the only one armed. Mary hurried across the coal and hopped over to the cap. “What’s happening?” John asked. Ivan walked between them carrying more coal. “Ansgard’s holding them off,” Mary said, simply. Ivan slammed the firebox doors shut and threw the shovel down. “I’m going to help him. I can’t shovel coal while battle is happening.” Before John could protest, Ivan pulled Han’s pistol from his belt and scurried across the coal. Mary noticed a metal box attached to the wall near a gage. The lid was open and in the light of the hanging kerosene lantern, she caught sight of something with a metallic luster. She reached in and dug through some old, crumpled newspapers. Her hands brushed against a piece of metal. Mary withdrew a black revolver, an M1870 Gasser revolver. It looked much like the gun Ivan was using. She knew how to operate a pistol and had gone shooting with her dad a number of times. Mary knew she could hit pretty close to the bullseye most of the time. She was not about to let Ansgard and Ivan fight the battle alone. John was busy keeping an eye on the gages and making adjustments to the reverser, a little lever which acted like a gear shifter.

Mary decided to do something intrepid. Without a word, she left the cab and hurried across the coal, armed with her pistol. She took several steps back, and then ran toward the end of the tender where a large pile of coal lay. Getting a running jump, she landed on the adjacent boxcar hard, feeling the shock travel up her bones. Then she took off running. Ahead, she saw Ansgard and Ivan crouched down, firing away. As Mary drew nearer, she noticed that the shots were coming from Ivan and not from Ansgard. The Swede was lying flat on his stomach, motionless. Blam. Ivan fired another shot from Ansgard’s Mauser before cycling the bolt to eject the spent shell. “Get down,” he shouted at Mary. Mary dropped to he knees and crouched down. Bullets wizzed overhead a second later. She gazed down the length of the end car and saw Prussians firing away with their single-shot Mausers. For every soldier killed, two more took his place. Mary turned toward Ansgard, who was lying a few feet away and poked his body gently. He didn’t move. Mary recoiled in shock. He’s dead. “You are foolish woman,” Ivan said gruffly. “You should go back to engine. This is not place for woman.” “I can’t just sit by while you fight,” Mary said. “Suit yourself, but you are crazy,” Ivan said without taking his eyes off his sights. Blam. He took out another soldier. Mary propper herself up on her elbows and took aim at the closest Prussian and fired. Nothing happened. She fired again and the spike on his helmet vanished. Ivan glanced at her. “Did you do that?” “I’ve been practicing since I was twelve,” She said. “Annie Oakley,” Ivan muttered before he nailed a soldier in the chest. Blam. Mary’s shot struck the front of the pursuing engine, a couple feet away from a soldier. “I’m not even a fraction as good as her,” Mary said before firing off another shot that missed. “I can hit a target once in a while, if the wind is just right.” Mary noticed something strange beginning to happen. The Prussians were retreating, scurrying back along the running boards. She took the opportunity to check her pistol. She only had two shots left in the six-chambered cylinder. When she returned her attention to the locomotive, Mary’s eyes widened. A Gatling gun was being hefted onto the roof of the locomotive cab by four Prussians. “I’m very low on ammo,” Ivan said, half-clenching his teeth. “Maybe two shots left.”

“I only have two shots,” Mary said. “Then, we run,” Ivan said. Two Prussians on the roof jammed a long clip of ammo into the Gatling gun. In seconds, one was turning a crank and the barrels were spitting out lead. By that time, Mary and Ivan were running at top speed, knowing that their lives depended on it. They lept into the coal pile in the tender as lead whistled past them. Crouching down, Mary rapidly and awkwardly crawled, in her gray dress, over to the cab and hopped down. She brushed some coal dust off, but gave up as she saw how black the hem was. John turned toward her, a shovel in hand. He had just deposited some coal in the firebox. It appeared that he wanted to speak. Before he could, Ivan landed heavily beside Mary. “We are doomed,” the Russian said. Mary walked over to the edge of the cab and leaned out to see where they were headed. As she looked forward down the tracks, she screamed. It was the first time Mary had since they had started their mission. Her eyes widened. Ahead, in the light from the pursuing train, a solid-looking wall appeared. A train-shaped shadow was plastered against it, growing smaller by the second. Mary estimated, in that moment, that Engine 52 was moving at a speed close to sixty miles per hour toward what was likely certain death.

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A throaty roar filled the night air, the gutteral roar of a small gasoline engine. Sam and Andrew, equipped with goggles, zipped down the dirt road, their headlamp spotlighting the way. According to a road sign they passed, the next closest town was Kapfenberg, a little over a mile north of Bruck an der Mur. Sam hoped no one would wake up, but the sound of a gasoline engine sputtering was not something usual to find anyware, particularily in the Alps. As they reached Kapfenberg a few lights winked on in nearby houses, but most of the townfolk remained fast asleep. “Sam,” Andrew shouted to him over the roar of the engine. “Yes,” Sam said. “We need to stop somewhere soon. We don’t know where the cyclist went.” “Good idea,” Sam said. “I’ll pull over here.” “What did you say?” Andrew asked. “I can’t hear you.” “I said, ‘Good idea,’” Sam repeated. “‘I’ll pull over here.’” They came to a stop beside a two-story brick building and let the engine idle,

and listened. Sam noticed a switch on the machine near the handle bars. From his previous experience driving a motorized tricycle, Sam remembered how to turn of and start up a gasoline-powered machine. He flipped the switch and the engine shut off with a quiet sputter. The night was silent once more. Listening to the still air, Sam waited, hoping to hear the sound of the motorized cycle. Only the breeze swaying the branches of a few nearby trees lining the sidewalks and the distant cry of a wolf disturbed the still air. “It looks like the trail got cold,” Andrew muttered, looking around. Sam stepped off the cycle and walked a few yards away. Standing perfectly still, he listened, straining his ears. He thought he heard a sound, a very faint mechanical sound. The cycle. The sound seemed to be coming from the west. It was clearly an internal combustion engine moving at full speed. Sam flipped the switch on near the handlebar and kicked a kick-start lever near the footrest. The small motor turned over, but didn’t come to life. He tried once more, but it coughed and sputtered into a whimper. The third try brought success. The motor roared to life. “Hang on,” Sam said before shifting gears and pushing forward on the throttle. The rear tire squealed against the pavement and the machine shot forward quickly accelerating. Buldings rushed past them at a giddy speed. The cycle hit almost every dip and bump in the road, jarring the men. “What is our speed?” Andrew asked. “I don’t know,” Sam said, trying his best to keep from crashing into buildings. “I’ll guess we’re moving at the speed of a locomotive on a straight, flat stretch of track,” Andrew said. “Roughly fifty-five to sixty miles per hour. Perhaps, we should slow down a bit.” Sam gritted his teeth and maintained a firm grip on the throttle. Soon, they came to a small hill that looked over a section of the small town. Sam caught sight of a headlight some distance from the town traveling on a west-bound road that led between the slopes of a small valley. That has to be the cycle, Sam thought. He increased the throttle and their cycle tore across the road faster than before, making it seem they had only been going at a walking speed in comparison. Dirt sprayed from the tires as they tore across the ground in pursuit. Before two mintues had passed since accelerating, the motorized cycle was gunning down the road, a quarter mile from the town. The headlight of the distant cycle vanished to the left, around a wooded hill. As Sam’s cycle rounded the bend, he felt a slight sense of relief at seeing the light still ahead. Sam had feared the cyclist would have shut of his light and hid in the forest. Thankfully, the man does not know he is being pursued, Sam

thought. The chase continued for some miles and Sam began to feel sweat dribble down his back and soak up into his shirt, but the rushing air helped to evaporate it. He hoped to narrow the distance between them, but the distance appeared to be increasing slightly, not decreasing. Sam tried to increase the throttle, but the cycle was unable to go faster. “Sam,” Andrew said, looking behind them, “we’ve got hounds on our tail.” Since Sam had no side mirrors, he glanced back. To his dismay, he saw three headlights. He couldn’t tell if they were cycles like his, which had a sidecar, or if they were single-rider cycles. Either way, they were coming fast and the headlights were growing brighter as they neared. Sam felt a little cheated. His cycle was underpowered. Or, perhaps, his was the only one on the road with a sidecar. “Sam,” Andrew shouted, “I found some ammunition by my feet. I can’t see what kind it is.” “You can use my gun. I found it at the forge,” Sam said, reaching for the pistol tucked in his belt. Andrew took it from him and popped a shell into the cylinder. “The ammunition fits,” Andrew said. “You chose the right gun.” “Andrew, make it count,” Sam said, clutching onto the handlebars tighter. The first of the pursuing motorized cycles closed in to within twelve feet and the rider fired off a shot from a revolver. Blam. The shot went high, but Sam felt the air from the bullet as it zipped over his head. Too close. Blam. Blam. Andrew returned fire, but he missed. Blam. Pop. Andrew’s third shot hit a tire and the cycle flipped over and landed spinning. The machine flung the rider from his seat while it tumbled like a barrel going downhill. Sam didn’t notice it. His main thought was survival. Seeing their friend or leader killed so quickly, the other two pursuing cyclists pulled back slightly. Andrew took the opportunity to reload his pistol to keep it at its maximum capacity. A few more miles passed with no more shots being fired. “Sam, I don’t like this,” Andrew said. “What?” Sam said. “I said, ‘I don’t like this’,” Andrew said louder. “Are they really scared of this little revolver?” “You are a good shot,” Sam said grinning, looking in Andrew’s direction. “You have to admit that.” Andrew was not paying attention to Sam’s comment. He was squinting at something in the distance. Sam followed Andrew’s line of sight. They had just

rounded the bend of a hill and were now on another straight stretch of road. Moving at a prodigious speed, a bright light was shining down on a pair of train tracks while black clouds spouted from a stack just a few feet from the light. Boxcars, linked together like slaves, trailed behind a black locomotive. To Sam’s surprise, he saw a large ramp lowering down in the side of one of the boxcars. Yellow lamplight streamed out of it. Through a gaping door at the top of the ramp a headlamp winked on. The distinct sound a gasoline engine revving came from the boxcar like a warning. Going at a speed well above sixty miles per hour, Sam was catching up to the train quickly. The ramp, lowering on a rope, came to a stop just inches above the ground, and the motorized cycle dashed down the ramp and landed on the grass to the left of the train tracks. The cyclist made a wide loop, to turn around. In moments, he was charging straight toward Sam like a bolt of lighting, at full speed. The driver must have been a maniac. While he raced forward, a second cyclist drove down the ramp, following the first. Both were headed on a collision course with Sam.

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Chapter 11

The locomotive raced toward the solid wall at over sixty miles per hour, like a black dart. Mary screamed, seeing certain death approaching her like the ground approaching a falling object. She knew she was saved and would go to Heaven, but dying itself was scary to her. As the locomotive was closing the gap, the solid wall cracked vertically down the middle and both sections of a double door swung outward, revealing more train tracks beyond. The train steamed through a cavern and toward a cave entrance. Mary stopped screaming. She couldn’t believe it. She could see a forested mountain slope through the entrance. In seconds that had passed through and were gliding along some tracks that ran through a narrow valley between two tall mountains. Mary stepped over to the edge of the cab and gazed out at the night sky. Stars sparkled like jewels in the cloudy, black expanse. The moon lay nestled in the folds of a cloud, shyly peeking out. A creek slithered around hillocks and knolls

near the side of the mountain to their left. She had longed to be out in fresh, outside air for the past couple days and now she was immersed in it. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the fresh, scented air. Pine trees, wood smoke, grass, and hay mingled together to form a refreshing aroma. “I’m going to take a look at boxcars,” Ivan said presently. Before anyone could stop him, the big Russian dashed back across the coal and leapt across the gap to the nearest boxcar. After leaping across to the second boxcar, he knelt down and reached over to a slightly protruding hatch cover. Using his muscular fingers, Ivan pried it off and lowered himself down through the square opening. “What’s he doing?” Mary asked. “I don’t know. Ivan is spontaneous,” John said, shrugging. “I just wish my fireman would keep it up. We’re starting to run low on coal in the firebox and we’re still being pursued.” The train following them had pulled back, slowing down, but it continued to follow. That is odd behavior, Mary thought. Why are they slowing down? Should we be concerned? Mary was thinking about the path ahead of them. Could it be a infested with enemy troops? A large object poked out of the hatch. It looked like the barrel of a large gun. A pair of strong hands shoved it through and up onto the solid boxcar roof. A large metal box popped up through the hatch and thudded against the roof. Then, Ivan squeezed through and scrambled to his feet. Resting on the roof beside him was a large gun posed on a thick tripod. “What is that, Ivan,” Mary asked. “It is machine gun. Not invented by Maxim. I fired Maxim gun at gun show once. This is much bigger.” Mary had never heard of the Maxim gun or any machine gun for that matter. What was Ivan even talking about, she wondered. Ivan snapped open the lid to the metal box and pulled out a long cartridge magazine. In the side of the magazine was an inscription in German: .577 Kaliber. Ivan jammed the magazine into the side of a box-shaped section of the gun. He turned a small crank to chamber a shell and then glanced back at Mary. “Watch this,” Ivan said before turning around. Gripping two wooden handles at the rear of the heavy gun, the Russian jammed the trigger plunger forward with his thumb. Instantly, a burst of rapid gunfire erupted from the barrel. Shot after shot roared from the large barrel, lighting up the roof of Ivan’s boxcar. Mary plugged her ears, so loud was the blast from the machine gun. She had never heard or seen anything like it. Ivan was firing at the pursuing locomotive, but by now it was some distance away and his shots missed.

“If I can hit stupid locomotive with this gun, she will explode,” Ivan said. “These .577 caliber bullets will penetrate her armored plates as if they were newspaper.” “Ivan,” Mary said. The big man didn’t seem to hear her. He was focused on the gun, trying to aim its bulk toward the distant locomotive. “Ivan,” Mary said again. “Yes,” Ivan said as he continued to aim. “Why is that train falling so far behind?” Mary asked. “Do you think we are heading for a trap, or something?” “Mary,” John said from behind her, as he leaned out, “I fear we are indeed falling into a trap. Look.” She turned to see where he was pointing. Her face grew pale and her knees began to shake. A strange, loud cracking, snapping sound came from the distance.

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The two motorized cycles that had left the boxcar were rushing directly toward Sam’s cycle while the two pursuing cycles were closing the gap behind Sam. He and Andrew were now in a pincer that was squeezing down rapidly. Both drivers on the approaching cycles pulled out revolvers and began firing. Blam. Blam. Blam. The shots pierced the night air as bullets zipped past Sam and Andrew’s heads. Andrew ducked before aiming at the closest cycle in front of them. Blam. His shot missed. Blam. Pop. The second shot tore through the front tire, causing the cycle to flip and crash, instantly killing the driver. Sam barely missed getting hit by the cycle. The second cycle zipped past Sam and spun into a wide u-turn, spraying stones and dirt into the air. He was not going to give up just because his friend had been hit. “Andrew,” Sam shouted, “prepared to board.” Andrew looked at Sam, dumbfounded. Did this young twenty-something-year-old want to commit suicide? Sam aimed toward the ramp of the open boxcar and drove up the ramp, squeezing the brakes as he did. The cycle slowed to a stop just an inch from the back wall of he boxcar. A short man in a pair of grease-stained gray coveralls stared at them. Before he could do anything, Andrew pointed the revolver at him.

“Raise your hands,” Andrew ordered in German. The mechanic dropped a wrench and did so. “What do you want with me?” “Raise the ramp,” Andrew said. “Yes, sir,” the machanic said nervously as he moved to a winch built into the floor. A metal cable ran from the winch to a pulley. Once the ramp was closed and flush with the wall of the boxcar, Sam and Andrew left the cycle behind and tied up the mechanic with some rags they found lying around. In the light of three lanterns hanging from the ceiling, Sam examined the layout of the boxcar. A quarter of the boxcar, roughly 15 feet in length, was occupied with motorized cycles packed tightly together. Two quarters were occupied with a small repair shop. Sam noticed a metal ladder which ran from the floor of the repair shop up to a hatch in the ceiling. The last quarter, which lay at the back of the boxcar, was filled with rows of wood benches, divided by an aisle. None of the benches were occupied and over a third of the motorized cycles appeared to be missing, probably because they were in use. “Why are you here? You have a foreign accent,” the mechanic said from his position on the floor. “We are Americans. Do you speak English?” Andrew asked. “I used to be an English teacher in Munich,” the mechanic said in English. “I’d like to know where this train is headed,” Sam said, facing the mechanic. He wanted to get to the bottom line. The small-framed man squirmed slightly before relaxing. He sighed and closed his eyes. “I suppose you will torture me if I don’t tell you,” he said. “We don’t torture people,” Andrew said. “But, we want to know.” The mechanic sighed. “I only do my job so I can get paid. Just promise me you will not tell my boss what I told you.” “We are fugitives,” Sam said. “We will never likely meet your boss. By the way, who is he?” “Colonel Anton Klaue. He received a scar from a saber fight, which probably gave him his bad temperament. He’s a miserable boss to work for. The colonel never is pleased with anything I do. I work hard to make his motorcycle shine like a silver spoon, but all I get for it is a five minute session of yelling.” Sam remembered the black-uniformed, scar-faced officer they had narrowly escaped from back at Wurzel Anlage. He had to be the same man the mechanic was talking about. “So, where is your true loyalty placed?” Andrew asked. “I’m loyal to no one but my family,” the mechanic said proudly. “I just work to keep food on the table.” “So, where is this train headed?” Sam asked.

The mechanic looked at Sam as if Sam were tricking him. He started to form a word before stopping himself. His forehead furrowed as he considered what he should say. “This train is heading to Vienna,” the mechanic said, “but don’t tell anyone I said that.” “We’ll keep it safe,” Sam promised. “What is the mission?” Andrew said as he knelt down. “We’re going to start a war,” the mechanic said. Sam and Andrew waited with baited breath for him to continue. Seeing their expressions, the mechanic glanced at his bonds and said, “If you loose me I will tell you as much as I know.” Sam and Andrew looked at each other and Andrew nodded. Sam had a feeling he could trust this guy. He reached over and began to untie the man’s wrists while Andrew started untying his feet. In a minute or two they had set him free. Andrew still kept his gun ready, just in case. “My name’s Sam,” Sam said, reaching toward the mechanic with an outstretched hand. “I am Kurt Immelman,” the mechanic said, taking his hand. “And, I’m Andrew.” Kurt walked over to a table and poured three glasses of water from a metal pitcher. Sam’s last drink had been from a bathroom sink at the hotel, which he took just before leaving for the iron works. Sam filled his metal cup up a second time and then a third. Andrew did likewise. Once they were all refreshed, Kurt began. “I was hired by a rail firm to act as a mechanic on their trains. You see, I had gone to a mechanic’s trade school after being an English teacher. Teaching English doesn’t pay very well in the German Empire. They said I would get some specialized training at a facility in Austria. I agreed because we were living just above poverty while I taught English at a private school in Munich. Well, to make a long story short, I was tricked. Some hoodlums snatched me and threw me into a boxcar and locked the doors. We reached a siding and, believe it or not, it lowered into the ground…into an underground railway. I was transported to an underground base where I was to repair and maintain all kinds of machines from motorcycles to automobiles to locomotives. I never got to see or hear from my wife and children again. The treated me like a slave in that prison, giving me lots of work, little sleep, and pathetic food.” Sam and Andrew nodded, knowingly. “But,” Kurt continued, “enough of myself. I overheard my boss talking with another Prussian officer, a General I think. The General was saying that fifteen trains were to be sent into Vienna, carrying Prussian troops and artillary cannons. These trains hold over a thousand men per train, or roughly one

brigade. This will turn Austria-Hungary into a hornets nest of fury and it will retaliate against Germany. The Kaiser will not know what is happening and why his troops were dispatched to Vienna. He will, of course, deny sending troops there. But, Franz Joseph, believing that the Kaiser had attacked him, will certainly declare war against Germany.” Sam was starting to see the big picture unraveling. The trains were being sent because the Order wanted to start a war, a war that the average citizen would think was being waged by individual countries and not by a secret, third party. “You have heard about the Order?” Sam asked. “Yes,” Kurt said. “Those scoundrels have a plan called the Black Flame. They intend to eradicate all Christianity in Europe and to create a global government.” Sam had never heard about the Black Flame. “Tell me more,” Sam said. Kurt leaned cast a glance around before saying, “The Black Flame will round up all Christians, Jews, and anyone who would oppose this new regime. All these will be killed mercilessly, their possessions confiscated, and their religious buildings and books burned.” Sam could not believe what he was hearing, but it made perfect sense. The eight-foot-tall supermen were to do the killing, instilling terror into those who would risist this conquest. Using their superior technology, the Order would be able to defeat all armies and create a new military force to maintain the power of their global government. Something thudded against the roof of the boxcar, causing the three men to look up. Footsteps thumped against the roof moving in the direction of a hatch. The metal ladder that was bolted to the floor and ceiling drew Sam’s attention. It lay right beside the hatch. Without warning, the hatch flew open and a small metal object dropped through. A fist-sized iron ball landed with a thunk and rolled across the floor, sending forth a tendril of smoke as flames rapidly ate through the fibers of a short, burning wick.

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Mary leaned out to look down the rails ahead of them. A dense forest was approaching. Soldiers marched along the embankments of the rails. Mary caught glimpses of them in the trees, thousands of them. But the soldiers were not the object of worry John had pointed at. Mary returned her gaze to the night sky. It was there she had just witnessed the most bizarre sight her eyes had seen. It was an otherworldly phenomenon.

The clear night sky suddenly crackled with bolts of electricity, but unlike lightning, the electricity continued to crackle and snap through the atmosphere, shooting from mountain tops in the distance up into the night air. Like fingers, the electricity shot up from the peaks to a bizarre sphere of electricity that floated in the sky. The sphere was rotating rapidly while forks of lightning snapped and crackled, biting the blackness with white teeth. Ivan had noticed it too and his mouth was hanging open. Not a word was uttered as the three watched with profound fascination as the phenomenon began to morph. The electricity in the night sky was starting to flow from the surface of the sphere into a central, black point. For a human to describe it accurately would be next to impossible, but the black point was growing larger and larger. Soon, it had widened into a black sphere nearly half the size of the giant lightning ball. Not a single star was to be seen in the black sphere as if it were some kind of solid object which blocked out the starlight. Then, like a spark dying, the fingers of electricity shooting up from the mountain peaks fizzled out and the giant lightning sphere exploded like a Chinese firework and vanished into the stars. The whole phenomenon had lasted not longer than ten seconds. “Was I just hallucinating?” John said. “That was real,” Ivan said, wiping his eyes. “We can’t all be hallucinating.” Mary gazed up at the sky, the image still fresh in her retinas. What kind of technology did the Order have? John decreased the throttle and applied the breaks, seeing the heavily crowded ground on either side of the tracks. The Prussian troops didn’t seem to notice their train as it chugged through. Ahead, around a bend was a sight that again caused Mary to tremble. Along the tracks, spaced a few hundred feet apart were scores of sidings. Many of them were occupied with long trains composed of dozens of boxcars. Not surprising to Mary, she saw trains rising up out of the ground on platforms that also were part of the sidings. The underground army was ready to deploy. Steam and smoke were already billowing from the stacks of the trains on the sidings, filling the air with wispy, gray snakes. The boxcars were open, and, not surprisingly, troops, boxes, and food were entering by way of long ramps. Trap doors beside each siding were open and soldiers were climbing up through the ground like ants pouring from an anthill. From other larger trapdoors, armored Wolverines were rolling up underground spiral ramps. Their six large wheels churned up the earth, creating dust clouds as they drove up ramps into extra-wide boxcars. “Engineer,” Ivan said to John, “more steam would not be bad idea.” John nodded, moving toward the throttle lever. “Ivan, I think you’re right.” Mary leaned out over the side and looked back the way they had come. Sure

enough, the pursuing locomotive they had encountered earlier had not given up the chase. It was rushing toward them at full steam. Men on the roof of the locomotive cab were crouching down beside a large gatling gun. Before Mary had a chance to warn her friends, the gatling gun opened fire, spraying out a volley of lead, directed at Ivan.

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The bomb was rolling in Sam’s direction, its wick sparkling, growing shorter by the second. Before Sam and Andrew could do anything, Kurt snatched a pair of metal scissors from a small tray of tools on a workbench and rushed toward the bomb. The wick was just an inch from detonation as he closed the scissor blades around the burning rope and attempted to cut it. The blades were slightly dull, but Kurt did not give up. He moved the wick closer to the point of articulation and snipped, slicing through the fibers just before the fire reached that part of the wick. If he had been a second too late, the bomb would have sent him and the other men to kingdom come. Kurt was breathing deeply, his hands trembling in the aftermath. Sam had a cupful of water in his hand, ready to pour it on the wick. Kurt held up a hand to him. “The wick would not be put out with water because the fire is a gunpowder fire that reaches to the core of the wick. Water would be just as effective as air.” Sam hesitated before setting the cub down and sighing. “That was close.” “Thank you, Kurt,” Andrew said, pushing his hair back. “We would all be dead had you not acted quickly.” “You would have done the same,” he said. “We need to get out of here,” Sam said as he walked toward the motorcycle. Kurt wiped his face as he stared at the wall. “They want to kill me too. Why?” “They might have overheard you talking to us,” Andrew suggested. Kurt swore under his breath and spit on the floor before saying, “I am finished with ANUBIS! Those sick crooks have gone too far.” “ANUBIS? What do you mean?” Sam said. “ANUBIS,” Kurt said, turning toward Sam. “It is the name of the new government for this planet. It is an acronym, but I’ve never learned what it stands for. The Order will use an acronym if it can spell out any kind of mythological god. They are obsessed with Greek and Egyptian mythology.” “We can talk about that later,” Andrew said as he walked toward the side car. “Let’s get going before they do something worse.” Kurt bit his lip to keep from saying more and stepped over to the winch. He

bent over and pressed the release lever. With the weight of the ramp pulling down, the winch unraveled rapidly, lowering the ramp to within a couple inches from the ground. Air rushed in, tugging at their clothes. Sam flipped the ignition switch and kick-started the motorcycle. With a put put put, it started back to life. Sam gave it some gas while it was in neutral, revving the engine a little, while he waited for Kurt who was approaching another cycle at the front end of the boxcar. “Go,” Kurt said to Sam as he lightly slapped him on the back. “I’ll be right behind you.” Sam shifted it into gear and coasted toward the lowered ramp and the outside air. Here goes nothing, he thought. Just as he increased the throttle, a gun fired a short distance away as a motorcycle charged toward him from behind. Sam felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. Droplets of blood sprayed from his skin. He had been hit and his grip on the handlebar had weakened. Sam was starting to loose control of the cycle and he realized that leaving the boxcar was a bad idea.

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The big Russian ducked to the roof, flattening himself against it while the lead zipped past his head. He had just missed losing his life by a fraction of a second. Ivan began crawling forward as the bullets flew by just inches away. Reaching the end of the boxcar, he took hold of the wrungs of a ladder and descended into safety, but safety was not his only intention. Ivan was a locomotive mechanic and trains were nothing new to him. With his vice-like grip, he clamped his meaty fingers around the pin that coupled the adjacent boxcars together. Clenching his teeth, he pulled the pin free. With gatling gun fire still flying over the roofs of the boxcars, Ivan began climbing the ladder again. Slowly, the disconnected section of the train began receding. Ivan let himself smile briefly. Their locomotive was now free of its extra burden and was moving at a faster clip and the pursuing locomotive would have to deal with an obstacle. The iron pilot at the front of the pursuing locomotive was not designed to handle pushing train cars. “Ivan,” a woman’s voice called from some distance away. “Yes,” Ivan said as he reached the top of the ladder. Mary was standing on the coal in the tender. She looked anxious. Her eyes were fixed on the string of cars receding and the train beyond. “Ivan,” Mary said suddenly excited, “you really are amazing. Good thinking. You’ve given us more time to get away.” “Boxcars are no use to me,” Ivan said. “Why not give them to enemy?”

“Ivan,” John shouted from the locomotive, “I really need a fireman.” The Russian rolled up the sleeves of his light gray uniform. “I’m on my way.”

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Andrew swung around and aimed at the shooter. Blam. His shot missed by several feet, but the cyclist ducked his head, reflexively. That gave Sam enough time to take a hard turn to the left. Kurt drove down the ramp and followed in Sam’s trail on a single-seat motorcycle. Scraping up the earth, Sam gunned the machine toward the forest eighty feet away. A dirt trail appeared in his headlight, carving a path through the dense pine forest. Sam angled toward it and increased throttle as they reached it. The throaty roar of three pursuing motorcycles cut through the air a short distance away, spurring Sam on. Branches slapped his shoulders and arms. Sam had not removed his goggles since he reached the boxcar and he slipped them down over his eyes, gritting his teeth. Like a galloping horse, the motorcycle flew over branches and twigs, spashed through puddles, while accelerating up a mild grade. The air was scented with a pine smell that refreshed Sam’s lungs, bringing him back to his raw element of adventure. He knew he would never enjoy a desk job. This was his life. At a fork, Sam shot toward the left hand, keeping an eye out to the terrain on his right. Kurt followed just a few feet behind. The pursuing cycles slowed slightly to make the turn, but then quickly gained speed as they booked up the hillside. Sam leaned down and snatched a passing branch. His eyes were glued to a hole in a tree ahead. Slowing down, Sam paused briefly to ram the branch into the opening, at waist level. It fit perfectly, a snug fit. Now, the branch was extending across two thirds of the path width. Sam gunned the engine and raced ahead. Andrew glanced back and saw the lead pursuer come to a halt at the branch. He grinned and pat Sam on the shoulder. “Way to go.” “I try,” Sam said. They soon reached a hillock that was densely wooded and overgrown with bushes. Sam pulled to a stop once they were well out of sight and beyond earshot. He cut the motor and stepped out. Kurt hopped of his cycle, shutting it off. “What are you planning to do?” he asked. “Hide,” Sam replied to Kurt.

“Help me,” Sam said to Andrew as he pushed the motorcycle toward a dense patch of bushes. Andrew put his back into pushing, and together they were able to conceal the cycle, but a small portion of it could be seen through the leaves if one looked too closely. Kurt moved to the opposite side of the path and hid with his machine in the thick undergrowth. The men crashed through the bushes and squatted close to the ground. In less than ten seconds a motorcycle ripped past them, stirring the twigs. The other two followed close behind. In a few moments, their gutteral engines were rattling through the forest out of sight. Sam and Andrew waited, not wanting to get caught again. Surely, the cyclists would kill them. Andrew had killed a couple of them in self defence when he popped their tires with his revolver. A stillness returned to the forest along with the hooting of an owl as it rested contentedly on its perch. Animals rustled through the pine needles nibbling away at their nightime meals. Sam caught a few glimpses of the starry sky through patches in the forest canopy and he longed to gaze at the night sky in its entirety. After some time had passed, Andrew said, “I hope my daughter’s safe wherever she is. Only God can help her now, but I believe God will keep her in His care.” Sam nodded. He hoped Mary was safe, but if God can keep him safe, God can keep her safe too. Sam decided that he was going to trust her to God. Some day soon, they would meet. He was going to count on that. “I keep thinking about that man who escaped from us on the motorcycle,” Sam said. “What about him?” Andrew asked. “I believe he was the one who spoke to us in the forge. He ran out the door and I am sure as day that he had a blond beard. His voice had an accent which I haven’t placed until now. I think it was Swedish. What also bothered me is that Bjord was nowhere to be seen at Wurzel Anlage.” “So, you’re saying that…” “I think Bjord was that same man we saw at the forge.” “You think Bjord betrayed us?” Andrew asked, surprised. “No,” Sam said, “I think that Bjord is a double agent. His real loyalty is to someone other than King Oscar II.” “The Order,” Andrew muttered. “Correct.” “Sam,” Andrew said after a moment or two of thoughtful silence, “we need to get to a train station. We don’t have our passports, but we can improvise. We need to contact King Oscar II and inform him about Bjord. Then, we need to contact Kaiser Wilhelm.”

“Why?” Sam whispered. “He needs to be informed about the Order and their plans,” Andrew said. “You plan on walking into the Royal Palace unannounced?” “No. We will send them a telegram before we walk in,” Andrew said. “How will we get through the security?” “I have a plan,” Andrew said mysteriously. “What are you two whispering about?” Kurt said from across the road. “We’ll talk about it later. Let’s get some sleep,” Andrew said. “We’ll need it.”

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Without its heavy burden, locomotive number 52 shot down the rails like a bullet, smoke trailing behind. On either side of the tracks, Prussian troops loyal to the Order were grouping and being divided into train cars. No one seemed to pay much attention to the speeding train with one boxcar. Perhaps, the troops and commanders thought it was on a mission of importance. Once the last of the formations was behind them, and the pastoral countryside had returned, Mary tapped John on the shoulder. “Yes,” he said. “Where do we go from here?” “Our mission is to find a scientist, remember?” John said, leaning forward. “Ah, yes,” Mary said, “Prospereau Schnörkelheim, the mad scientist.” John grinned slightly, stepping out of Ivan’s way as he came through with a pile of coal. “And, we know where he is.” Mary frowned, squinting. What is he talking about? Seeing her confusion, John said, “He has given away his location.” Mary smiled, chuckling. “Of course. That strange electricity in the sky is an example of Prospereau’s technology. He would not be far away from here. He would most certainly be deeply involved in its development.” “Therefore, Mary,” John said, “we will be have to leave behind the train and set out on foot.” John’s eyes swept up the sides of a forested mountain with a snowcapped peak. As Mary looked up at it, she began to shiver. She had a little bit of ambivalence toward climbing a mountain to find a mad scientist. She wanted to find Prospereau, but she didn’t look forward to the trek. “Set out on foot?” Ivan asked, turning toward John from his position by the firebox door. Flames flickered and danced from within, casting shadows from his boots.

“We are going to do some hiking, Ivan,” John said, patting him on the back. Ivan shook his head, frowning. “I will stay with the engine.” “Ivan, you don’t want to go?” Mary asked. “I prefer to guard the train,” Ivan said, stubbornly. “I’m not sure this young lady and I can do it alone,” John said, nodding toward Mary. Ivan glanced from one to the other and scratched his clean-shaven chin. After a moment, he said, “I will go only on one condition.” “What is that?” John asked. “Make sure that there are no wolves,” Ivan said. “Wolf pack killed my three older brothers.”

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Chapter 12

Sunlight peeked through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the twig-covered ground. Birds twittered and chirped in the upper branches of the conifers while squirrels scurried from branch to branch in their endless jungle jim. The gutteral roar of the motorcycles, echoing through the trees stirred the wildlife, causing small flocks of yellow-colored Serins and Golden Orioles to scatter in a flurry of feathers. Two motorcycles zoomed by, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Sam had enjoyed seeing the pretty birds flitting from tree to tree, singing with their melodious voices, but now was not the time to enjoy their beauty.

They had been driving through little-used forest trails for hours. Earlier in the day they had cut through meadows and valleys where only a handful of farms were to be found. They had stopped only once to refuel from a gas can that Kurt had shown them was cleverly stowed in a secret compartment in the sidecar of Sam’s motorcycle. A little less than an hour ago, they had crossed the border between Germany and Austria. After asking for directions, they had traveled through the Bavarian countryside, past farmhouses and fields, past cattle and sheep. They had entered a forest surrounding Munich to keep away prying eyes. Few of the local Germans had seen anything with an internal combustion engine before. A clearing opened up before Sam and he shot out of the forest into more farmland. Beyond it just a short distance lay the suburbs of the third most populous city in Germany. In a short time, Sam, Andrew, and Kurt had entered the city limits. They came to a stop beside a warehouse and Sam guided his machine into a narrow alley. He cut the engine and stretched. “We could just take these all the way to the train station,” Kurt said as he wheeled his cycle toward Sam. “We don’t want to attract unnecessary attention,” Andrew said. Kurt smiled. “Good point, Andrew. You American’s have a good head.” “We’ll send a telegram to the Kaiser at the train station,” Sam added. “Sst,” Kurt whispered suddenly. “We’re being followed.” Sam glanced back to see who was following him, but he only saw brick buildings with tall chimneys. Piles of scrap metal and broken boards were piled up against the side of one of the buildings. A board fell down in the dark shadows of an alley between two buildings. Sam watched closely, tensing. Out stepped a golden cat. Sam sighed quietly. It was just a tabby cat. He started walking down the alley toward the road, but Andrew and Kurt hung back. As Sam stepped onto the street, something crunched off to his right, out of Andrew’s view. Sam’s turned quickly, to see what it was, and his blood began to pump faster. A man stepped out from behind a stack of old wooden crates, holding a crowbar. With arms as thick as the bough of a tree and a barrel chest, the thug smiled, revealing a set of crooked teeth, some of which were missing. His nose was bent as if it had been broken several times. Walking slowly toward Sam, he said, “Gib mir dein Geld.” Sam didn’t know much German, but he knew that Geld was German for money. Geld equals gold, or money, Sam thought. “Nein,” Sam said, trying to remember what little he knew, “Ich hab nein Geld.” The thug frowned, thumping the crowbar in his left palm, threateningly.

“Sie haben ein schickes Gerät. So müssen Sie Geld haben.” “Andrew,” Sam shouted to the alley, “do you have any more ammo in your gun?” No response came. When Sam turned his attention back to the thug, he saw the crowbar swinging through the air. Remembering his fighting skills, Sam reacted with lightning speed, striking the arm that held the crowbar near the wrist. The crowbar went flying. In a split second, Sam threw a punch toward the crook’s nose, but the man moved his other arm to blocked it. However, he wasn’t fast enough and only just barely deflected Sam’s punch, which landed in his left cheek, stunning him briefly. Sam took the opportunity to swing his left fist in an uppercut to the crook’s jaw. It landed solid, and caused the man to back up. He tripped on a rock and fell to the ground. Sam bent over and grabbed the crowbar. He was ready should the man get back to his feet, but as Sam watched, he saw no noticeable movement. Sam left the unconscious form and hurried toward the alley, running. A glass bottle rolled out, distracting Sam briefly. He placed his back to the wall of a brick building and crept toward the alley cautiously. He had not been able to see inside the alley from the place where he had encountered the crook and Sam didn’t know what to expect. He peeked around the corner and saw a garbage-strewn alley with the motorcycles parked there. There were a couple doors in the sides of the buildings forming the alley, but none appeared to have been used for quite some time. Down the alley, at the far end, Sam heard distant voices talking. He need a place to hide. He glanced around the corner he had just passed around a moment ago. The crook he had knocked out was coming to. Some distance from the crook, Sam caught sight of a man with a revolver and a beat up, old top hat. He was trapped. If he went to either end of the alley, he was sure to be spotted. There was no way he could use a motorcycle. Both were nearly empty. He had to find a hiding place. Sam scanned the walls, searching for somewhere to hide. “Du bist nicht halb so gut wie Haken,” a voice said from outside the alley, getting louder. Sam noticed a coal chute door hanging ajar on a vertical hinge. He didn’t wait a second more. Pulling off his black leather jacket, Sam shoved it down through the chute door before squeezing through after it. He slid feet first down the steel chute and air rushed past his ears, blowing his brown hair. But, the ride didn’t last. In seconds, he had reached the bottom and landed in a sooty pile of

coal. His lab coat was stained black with coal dust, but he didn’t care. Sam slipped back into his black leather greatcoat and gazed around in the darkness. A short distance away from the pile lay a wheelbarrow, seen in the dim light coming from the coal chute door. Sam groped his way through the darkness of the basement. He had only walked a few feet before he bumped into someone. In the darkness, he couldn’t see who it was. “Sam, is that you?” Andrew’s voice came from a foot away. “Yes,” Sam said. “I’m glad I found you. Where is Kurt?” “I’m here,” Kurt said from a short distance away. “Why did you leave me?” Sam asked. “We saw some ruffians come through a door in the side of the alley,” Andrew explained, “and we quickly dropped through the coal chute. They were armed.” Sam knew Andrew was no chicken. He had been in fist fights, gun fights, and worse, and knew how to handle himself. The archeologist had made a wise move. “We need to find a telegraph office and send a telegram to the Kaiser. Then, we should notify King Oscar II about a man we suspect of being a double agent,” Sam said. “Who are you talking about?” Kurt asked. Sam briefly explained the matter to Kurt, answering a few of his questions. “Those double agents can be very sneaky,” Kurt said after hearing Sam out. “Gentlemen, we should be moving along,” Andrew said. “I’ll light a match.” “No need. I have some in my…” Kurt said in the darkness as he groped through his pockets. “There they are.” Sam heard a scratching sound and a small match flame burst into life. Kurt’s face appeared in the darkness, lit by the dim, yellow glow. “Those little sneeks have been hiding in my shirt pocket this whole time,” the German said, clucking his tongue. “There’s our way,” Andrew said, pointing toward a rusty, iron door a few feet away. The men carefully pulled it open, trying not to make a sound, but the screech of rusty iron pierced the air. Sam’s foot bumped into something, causing an object to clap against the floor. It was a candle lantern. Sam picked it up and hinged open the small, metal door. Inside was an inch-tall candle stub. Inclosing the candle was a cage of iron and glass. Small holes at the top allowed for air intake. “Oh, here,” Kurt said as he took the lantern from Sam. Kurt struck another match, lighting the candle, and snapped the door shut. In the light of the single candle, the three men walked down a hallway which ended in a set of stairs. At the top of the stairs, they stopped before another iron door. Sam tried the handle and found it was unlocked. He swung the door open

enough for him to peek through. A spacious room filled with rubble and junk appeared before him. Brick columns supported the ceiling. An iron staircase at the far end of the room ascended to the next floor. Supported on two large cable spools was a large rectangular board. A group of five men were huddled around the table, studying maps and papers in the light of a couple lanterns. Daylight spashed across the room from narrow, tall windows, but it was insufficient to light their fine-print maps. All of their backs were to Sam, so he opened the door a little wider and motioned for Andrew to join him. “What are they saying?” Sam whispered. A man with a brown vest, a thick mustache, and a big cigar was talking to the other four men in German. “Let me listen first and I’ll tell you in a little bit,” Andrew said. Andrew watched and listened attentively, tensed. He knew that if anyone should turn his direction, he would be spotted. The mustached man with the cigar exhaled a small cloud of tobacco as he pointed at a dot on a map of Germany. “Fang,” he said. “Yes, boss,” a muscular man with a tattoo and close-cropped hair said. A tiger head was tattooed to his right forearm, under his rolled up sleeve. His hair and beard were cut very short and a gold ring hung from one ear. “I want you to take the package to Magdeburg. Go to the basement of the town hall and deposit it there. Make sure you conceal it. If it is discovered, I’ll personally take your wretched life.” “Yes, boss,” the tattooed man said. The boss turned to the rest of the men. “You are to ensure that Fang has no trouble with the police. Kill them if necessary, but do it in a way that looks like they had accidental deaths.” “Yes, boss,” the other men said in unison. “All of you will be paid hansomly if you do everything our clients have asked. Understood?” The men grunted and nodded. “Remember who we are, men.” “Boss,” a man with a derby hat said, “what do we do if we’re caught?” “You give them the silent treatment. Don’t open your mouth, you hear?” “Yes, sir,” the crook replied. “You know your locations. You know your missions. Now, get moving,” the boss said. With that, four of the men grabbed some maps, folded them up, and dispersed, walking toward a door near the stairs. The boss remained behind, folding up the remaining pieces of paper and stuffing them into a briefcase.

While he did, Andrew gave Sam a brief summary of the conversation. “Andrew, how many more shots do you have in your gun?” Sam asked. “I reloaded it recently so it should have six shots,” Andrew said. “May I see it,” Sam asked. Andrew handed it to him and whispered, “Don’t do anything foolish.” Sam smiled wryly. “I’ll try not to.” He scanned the room quickly and saw that the boss was alone. Then, without any more hesitation, Sam opened the door and tiptoed toward the boss, who had his back turned. As he got within seven yards from the boss, the man spoke. “Warum hast du nicht nicht gehorchen meine Bestellungen?” Sam clicked the hammer back and said, “Raise your hands.” The boss turned around, surprise clearly manifested on his face. “American,” he said in English, “what are you doing here?” “Raise your hands!” Sam said, louder, motioning with the tip of his gun. The boss slowly raised his hands, staring at Sam with hate-filled eyes. Below his brown mustache, his teeth clenched. “You think you can stop us?” the boss said. “We are working for people more powerful than you could possibly imagine.” “You speak good English,” Sam said. “I was born in America to German immigrants,” the boss said. “At age 27, I left for Germany to become the most powerful crime lord in the country. I am Wolfgang Schmidt and you should be trembling in your boots by now.” He is also a proud man, Sam thought. “Andrew,” Sam said, “I see some rope on the floor.” Taking the cue, Andrew walked over to a small pile of rope and brought it over to Wolfgang. “Search him,” Sam said. While Andrew searched through the gangster’s pockets and belt, pulling out pens, knives, a derringer, and a couple small revolvers, Wolfgang said, “You Americans are naive and inexperienced. You think that because you are Americans you will always win. Take a look at Europe. It has existed for many thousands of years. In a short time, its kingdoms will fall. This great continent will become a territory of ANUBIS. You cannot stop the New World Order any more than an ant can stop a rolling boulder.” “We know about ANUBIS,” Sam said. “It is the brainchild of a secret society for controlling the planet.” “You know nothing,” Schmidt said. “Tomorrow, you will see the power of ANUBIS and you will fear.” After he had handed one of Schmidt’s two revolvers to Kurt, Andrew stuffed the other Reichsrevolver M1883 under his belt and shoved a couple small

leather cases of ammo into the pockets of his leather greatcoat. Andrew tied several handkerchiefs together, which he had taken from Wolfgang’s pockets. He tied them around the crime boss’s face, forming a gag. Now, the gangster would keep his mouth shut. Using the coil of rope he had found nearby, Andrew finished the job by lashing Schmidt’s wrists together. Sam, Andrew, and Kurt, who still held the candle lantern, waited for three minutes before taking the crime boss through a door that led into the alley. This door was opposite the door the four crooks had left through and would hopefully be safe. The alley was empty and the motorcycles were still present. “I think we have just enough gas to reach the center of town,” Kurt said as they assessed their resources. The men grabbed Wolfgang and placed him in the sidecar. The crime boss didn’t give any resistance. Andrew walked over to Kurt’s motorcycle and sat on the seat behind Kurt. “Halt!” a man shouted from the end of the alley facing the motorcycles’ rear. He started running toward them, drawing a pistol from his belt. The machines started up with a roar and Sam shifted into gear. Blam. Blam. Blam. The masonry beside Sam’s head exploded in a spray of debris as the bullets struck, cratoring the red bricks. Sam shoved the throttle forward and his cycle charged off. He zoomed past the big thug he had knocked down earlier and tore down the road at full speed. Kurt and Andrew followed close behind. Before long, they came to the center of Munich. The booming German city was full of life. Horse-drawn carriages, wagons, and carts trundled down the cobblestone streets, transporting people and wares from place to place and shop to shop while people walked down the streets. Sam pulled into an alley half a block from the Munich Police Headquarters and cut the engine. Leaning the cycle up against the wall, Sam drew the pistol and kept it ready in case he needed it. He had just captured a big crime boss and was not about to let the man escape. Also, who knew if a gang member had spotted Schmidt during their trip through Munich. Almost every head had turned to see the strange sight of an internal-combustion-engine-powered bicycle. A handful of motorcars might be seen on a rare occasion put-puttering through the streets, but not a motorized bicycle zipping through at thirty miles per hour. Sam had to move slower due to the horse traffic. “Sam,” Andrew said, getting off Kurt’s motorcycle. “Yes?” “Why don’t you escort Wolfgang to the police headquarters. I’ll follow at a distance, and Kurt, why don’t you stay behind with the motorcycles?” “You intend to turn him over to the police?” Kurt asked.

“Yes. Is there a problem?” Andrew said. “You need to have evidence Wolfgang Schmidt committed a crime to turn him over to the police,” Kurt said. “Isn’t he a criminal?” Sam asked, frowning. “He has a duplicitous track record, but he has never been caught and no evidence has ever been found to tie him to any of the crimes he’s committed,” Kurt said. “Does he have money?” Andrew said. “He’s a crime boss. Of course he does. Why?” Kurt said. “Then, Schmidt can rent a special for us.” “Special?” Kurt said, looking confused. “A privately-reserved train,” Andrew said. “Oh,” Kurt said, smiling. “That is a good idea.”

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While Sam watched over Wolfgang Schmidt with his revolver in an alley a block from the Munich Central Station, Kurt and Andrew went to the station to make arrangements for a special. The German carried one of Schmidt’s checks from his checkbook which Wolfgang had reluctantly signed. A short while later, both men returned. “God has blessed us,” Kurt said. “There is one special available. It is going to be steamed up and made ready. They will attach two sleeper cars--one for the crew; an observation car; and a dining car, leaving other cars behind. The train trip should only take between five and six hours because we will make very few stops. I included the sleeper cars in case we have a prolonged stay in Berlin. It’s always nice to have a bed on wheels.” “How much did it cost?” Sam asked, curiously. Probably it was more than he could have earned in a year when he was a grocery clerk. “Five hundred, more than what I can earn in two months,” Kurt said. “And, I was able to send a telegram to King Oscar about Bjord, the man we suspect of being a double agent. Then, I sent another one to the Stadtschloss,” Andrew said. “If the Kaiser reads it, he will certainly be surprised.” “What did you tell the Kaiser?” Sam asked, curious. “I told the Kaiser that there is a plot to take over his country and to dethrone him. I explained that that is the reason his troops were ordered to invade Austria without his permission.” “He should be shaken up when he gets it,” Kurt said. “Let’s hope he takes the time to read it.”

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With smoke billowing out in puffs of grey, engine number 52 climbed the side a mountain, chugging up a steep grade. Like a donkey plodding up a long steep hill, the engine puffed and snorted, staining under the grade. Even with most of its burden gone, it was still hard work to ascend an Alpine peak. After traversing miles of winding railroad, the engine took a switch that led them toward a snowcapped peak which was splashed by the weak rosy rays of the rising sun. Wind lashed the train as it climbed, sweeping flakes of powder in through the windows and in through the open back of the cab. Ivan had gone back to the boxcar to check on the German soldier he had tied up while they were in the underground base of Wurzel Anlage. He had returned with three gray, thick wool greatcoats. Mary donned her’s gratefuly, happy to have something to keep her warm. She had moved closer to the firebox to get warm, getting in Ivan’s way. Even though the greatcoat was for men, Mary didn’t care. “Mary,” John said. “Yes?” “What do you think about distracting a guard?” Mary frowned, confused. John pulled back on the throttle to reduce speed and nodded toward the front of the train. Mary leaned out the left window and looked forward. The tracks ahead curved to the left, disappearing around a steep hill. They reappeared running along the side of a cliff and terminated at what appeared to be a solid rock wall. Mary walked quickly over to the right window, avoiding the machine gun Ivan had stowed beside the window, and gazed down the side of the steep cliff they were climbing on. The precipice dropped to a wide cleft in the mountain roughly eighty feet below, revealed in the early morning light. The tracks they were grinding up were laid on a flat ledge barely wider than the railroad ties. Mary stepped back. “I’m afraid of heights,” She said. “You’ll be safe,” John said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” Soon, the train rounded the bend and began to slow down even more as it approached the dead end rock wall. From her new vantage point, Mary could see a huge iron door in the wall where the tracks seemed to end. In a large cleft, in the side of the cliff, opposite the precipice, a guard shack drew Mary’s attention. Steam escaped in a thick jet, partially obscuring the shack as the engine came

to a stop. A shovel clanged on the metal floor behind Mary and Ivan brushed past her. She didn’t notice. Her eyes were focused on the shack. In a moment or two, the door opened and a soldier stepped out wearing a gray Prussian uniform with a pickelhaub helmet. He carried a bayoneted Mauser and a stiff, cold manner. He started walking toward the engine. Before he could say a word, Ivan dropped to the ground between the locomotive and the cliff wall, carrying one of the first machine guns invented. His muscles bulged as he hefted the bulky gun, aiming it at the guard. “Raise your hands!” Ivan barked gruffly. The guard appeared to be young and he quickly dropped his gun. “Open the door,” Ivan said, motioning with his gun barrel toward the iron door. “Er sagte, öffnen Sie die Tür.” He said, open the door. Mary said as she dropped to the ground. The guard glanced at her before returning his gaze to the machine gun. Ivan walked closer, trying to look more menacing. Mary repeated what she said, speaking louder. Finally, the guard turned and walked over to the guard shack. “Stop,” Ivan said. “Halten,” Mary said. The guard stopped. “Ich war ungefähr um das Tor zu öffnen.” I was about to open the gate. “What did he say?” Ivan said. “He said he was going to open the gate. Why did you want him to stop?” “He could send telegram to inform other men about us,” Ivan said, a fierce look in his eyes. “We would surely be killed should that happen.” “Good point,” she said. “What should I tell him?” “Tell him to walk slowly toward the guard shack.” Mary relayed the information to the guard and he did just that. Ivan followed, clutching the gun and readjusting his grip from time to time. With Mary and Ivan watching, the guard walked over to a telephone. The invention was fairly new to her and she had only seen them on occasion. The switchboards were still small and telephones were mainly used by large business, government offices, and corporations. “Öffnen Sie das Tor.” Open the gate. The guard said before hanging up the phone. Ivan set the machine gun down and pulled a revolver out from under his belt. Mary had not seen that before. He must have found that inside the boxcar, she thought. “Take this,” Ivan said, handing Mary the revolver. “You know how to use it?” “Yes. I’ve gone target shooting with my dad.”

“Good.” Mary kept the pistol barrel trained on the guard while Ivan tore off strips from the guard’s uniform and used the tough fabric to bind him. While he did that, a pneumatic whirring sound came from the giant door as it began to creep open inch by inch. Mary glanced at it, noticing that it was thicker than she had expected. It appeared to be nearly four feet thick and was made of solid iron. The locomotive began to chug forward slowly, a freshly lit headlamp lighting the way. In a minute or two, Ivan had the guard bound and gagged. He slid open the boxcar door to reveal a large wooden space filled with metal chests, bullets, guns, and other equipment. The Prussian soldier Ivan had captured and tied up earlier was bound by a short chain to the leg of a heavy iron chest. He glared at Ivan as he hefted the other guard into the boxcar and chained him up ten feet away. Satisfied that both guards were secured, Ivan picked up the machine gun and climbed up into the engine cab. Mary followed, looking toward the widening mouth of a tunnel that vanished into darkness. She hoped that they could leave this place in one piece. Once Mary and Ivan were inside, John eased the throttle forward and engine number 52 squeezed through the door like a gopher entering its burrow.

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Chapter 13

“Your highness,” an aide said, bowing slightly, “permission to speak.” An old white-haired man with a face covered in bushy muttonchops tilted his chin up slightly, reading glasses suspended on the tip of his nose. “Permission granted,” he said before slipping a bookmark into a thick tome and slapping it shut on his chestnut study table. “Your highness, we have just got word from Emperor Franz Joseph of Austria. He has declared war on Prussia and on all the states in the German Empire,” the aid said, trying to keep fear out of his voice. The news hit like a hammer, causing the old man’s heart rate to increase

slightly. His hands trembled slightly as he fought to keep himself under control. He breathed deeper and swallowed down some saliva. The aide was young, just out of his teens. Perhaps, he had misheard. “Are you sure about that, young man?” Kaiser Wilhelm said. “Is it possible you misheard?” “Your highness, here is a telegram sent from the Schönbrunn Palace,” the aid said as he handed a sheet of paper to the old emperor. Wilhelm took the telegram and read, “Kaiser Wilhelm, you have behaved out of character. Your paid thugs have attacked Vienna and have killed over fifty of my soldiers. I am contacting the Czar, the British, and the French. You do not know who you are meddling with. If you want war, then you shall have war.” There was silence for a long time. The aide waited, staying as still as he could. A grandfather clock in the corner of the study ticked away the time with a steady, throbbing pulse. Wilhelm stared at the bookshelves and paintings of German countryside. He looked up after a full two minutes and noticed that the aide was still standing in the study doorway. “I will have to contact Otto von Bismarck, but I assume he knows of Franz Joseph’s fiery declaration of war,” Wilhelm muttered to himself. “Your highness, permission to speak,” a second aide said as he approached, stepping up beside the first. “Permission granted,” Wilhelm said. “Your highness,” the aid said, “we have received a strange telegram. Would you care to read it?” “Why not?” Wilhelm muttered. The aid handed him the paper and the Kaiser unfolded it and began to read Andrew’s telegram. He read it over again, poring over the words. What was this? Who had access to such information? Wilhelm thought. The troops invading Austria are Prussians working for a secret society called the Order? They have a plan to create a global government? That’s preposterous, absurd. But, could it be true? The fact is the sender of the telegram had to know about the invasion of Vienna. The news had not reached anyone in Prussia yet. Bismarck didn’t know about it, or else he’d inform Wilhelm. So, who would know about the attack and claim to know who was behind it? Wilhelm’s army was certainly not behind it. They had no orders to attack Austria. Austria and Germany were at peace. Wilhelm squinted, tapping the arm of his chair with his fingers while he thought. His eyes lit up suddenly and he turned to the second aide. “Summon Bismarck here at once,” Wilhelm said. “I need to discuss this with him. Also, see what information you can hunt down regarding the mysterious sender.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the aide said, bowing slightly. “You are dismissed, both of you,” the Kaiser said, motioning for them to leave. Once his study door had closed, Wilhelm reached for a blank sheet of paper and a fountain pen. He was going to pen a telegram message to Franz Joseph. After all, the pen is mightier than the sword.

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“Schmidt wants to talk,” Kurt said as he approached Sam. Sam turned away from the window with the beautiful German countryside rolling by. He was seated in a plush straight back chair beside a wide window in the observation car of their special. The gang leader walked up to Sam, hands still tied behind his back. Kurt followed, gripping one of Schmidt’s Reichsrevolvers. Without the gag in place, Wolfgang Schmidt felt some sense of freedom. He wanted to grab the end of his dark brown waxed mustache and tweak it, but alas his hands were tied. Wearing a brown leather vest, black trousers, and an arrogant sneer he studied Sam for a moment, assessing his opponent. “What do you have to say?” Sam said. “You want information, I assume?” Sam merely nodded. “Nothing in life is free,” Schmidt said, a greedy twinkle in his eye. Sam sighed. “What do you want in exchange?” “Let me off at the next stop and I’ll answer your questions.” Sam scratched his chin, in thought for a few moments. Should he release such a villainous man for the sake of obtaining information? That would be foolish. “I’m sorry, but that is not going to happen,” Sam said firmly. Schmidt swore in German before calming down and collecting his thoughts. “What do you want to know?” the crime boss said after a minute of silence. “What is in the package?” Sam asked. Wolfgang frowned, confused. “What?” “What is in the package that you are having Fang deliver to the Magdeburg town hall?” Wolfgang smiled and shook his head, clucking his tongue. If his hand was free, he might have waved his finger at Sam. “You are a pathetic interrogator,” Schmidt said. “My grandma could do better than that.” Sam sighed quietly, dropping his gaze from the crime boss’s face to his white shirt pocket which was partially concealed by his leather vest. Poking out from

the pocket, a folded sheet of paper caught Sam’s attention. Sam reached for it, and, in one deft motion, snatched it from Wolfgang’s pocket. “What is this?” Sam said, unfolding the paper. Schmidt scowled at him, but remained silent. His eyes spoke more than his mouth could. Hate burned in his eyes. Sam scanned over the paper, but couldn’t understand a word of it. It was all written in German, just as he expected. “Andrew,” Sam called over to Andrew who was seated across the car, at a table, reading a book. “Yes?” Andrew said. Sam walked over to him holding the sheet out. “What can you make of this?” Andrew placed a bookmark in the book and set it down. He took the sheet from Sam and began to scan over it. After a short time, he said, “Sam, it looks like you have made a find.” All eyes turned toward him. “This is a set of instructions from ANUBIS, signed by a person who calls himself the Count.” “The Count… Could this be that infamous Count Max von Oberst we ran into over a year ago?” Sam asked. “Perhaps,” Andrew said before continuing. “The Count is ordering Schmidt to have his men bring packages to different cities, such as Magdeburg, Hamburg, and Berlin. His men are to maintain upmost secrecy. Once the packages are delivered, Schmidt and his men are to stay out of those cities and never return. The sum of twenty thousand marks will be paid to Schmidt once these tasks are completed.” It has to be Count Oberst, Sam thought. He must be stopped. “That’s a lot of money,” Kurt said, whistling. Wolfgang Schmidt stared at Andrew, scowling. “You are too late to stop my men from planting the packages. Even if you could travel to all those cities, you will not be able to find all the packages. The instructions we received were vague and my men are good at hiding things.” “We don’t intend to stop your men,” Sam said. “This letter gives us credibility and provides ammunition to give the Kaiser.”

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Steam hissed from the pistons, forming a misty cloud that surrounded the front end of the locomotive. Engine number 52 had come to a stop on a railroad siding. John descended the steps leading up to the cab and walked toward the front of the train and the beginning of the end of the siding where an upright

metal object appeared in the light coming from the engine’s headlamp. As John approached, he could make out more details. A metal cylinder protruded from the rocky ground near the tracks. The device resembled an engine order telegraph he had seen in a ship’s bridge. A large, round brass gage with a lever protruding from it surmounted the column. A needle pointed at a number on the gage: 10. Curious, John pulled the lever down, moving the needle down the gage from 10 to 5. The lever sprang back to its vertical condition a second later. John stepped back and waited. Nothing happened. Then, fifteen seconds later, a hydraulic whirring sound came from the depths of the earth and John jogged back to the engine. He scaled the steep steps leading into the cab and caught his breath. “What’s happening?” Mary asked. “What did you do?” “I pulled a lever on something that resembled an engine order telegraph,” John said. Mary felt the floor suddenly drop an inch. The entire siding had sunk into the rocky ground an inch. Then, slowly, it began to descend down a long, narrow shaft. The ground swept up above their heads and Mary remembered her descent on the train when she first entered the underground tunnel. The high-pitched wining sound of hydraulics straining under a load echoed through the shaft, resonating off the rock walls. Lights shone through wide, horizontal openings down the shaft, which were set roughly thirty feet apart. These must be levels similar to floors on a building, Mary thought. Through them, Mary could see more underground railroad tunnels revealed in bright light coming from the ceiling of each level. If Mary ever returned to Austria, she would do it with a new understanding of that country. The technology to build such engineering marvels would be incredible, Mary thought. Eventually, the lowering platform that doubled as a siding came to a stop at one of the levels. The horizontal opening in the side of the shaft revealed a railroad tunnel with a rail switch. John climbed down the steps, hurried over to the switch and shoved the lever to link the siding with the main rail line. Once complete, he walked quickly back and reentered the cab. The locomotive crawled forward, and began to pick up speed as it rolled onto the main line in the tunnel, past another control column. In a minute, it had reached roughly forty miles per hour, leaving the railroad siding platform behind. After roughly three minutes had passed, Mary leaned over the left side of the cab to catch a look at what lay ahead. A wide open, arched doorway revealed a brightly lit rectangular room beyond. As they rolled through the entrance, Mary

could see that it was a large cavern and could easily fit most of a city block within its walls. Cut out of solid rock, it was perfectly surfaced. All six faces of the rectangular-prism-shaped chamber appeared perfectly flat as if a giant knife had cut them out of the rock. The track curved through the room, starting near the left corner of the front wall, and ending near the furthest corner in the right hand wall. A siding pulled off from the curving track and a short train sat on it. To Mary’s surprise, something was unloading it, but she couldn’t see any person operating the unloading machine. “What is that?” Mary asked John, pointing toward the siding. His eyes popped wide open. “What in the world…,” John said, rubbing his eyes. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. The machinery unloading boxcars was unmanned, but it strangely resembled a skeletal version of the human arm--except that it instead of bone, it was composed of metal pistons, joints, and armatures. The giant metal arm was attached to a rotating base and was picking up wooden and metal boxes with fingerlike digits. It deftly and quickly transferred the crates from the boxcars to a constantly moving, giant conveyor belt. A door lay wide open at the end of the moving belt, but darkness within concealed the room beyond. “I have seen some strange things in my day, but nothing like this,” Ivan piped up as he rested his shovel against the floor. “Was ist das?” What is this? a voice called from the other side of the cab, “Was machst du hier? Du verpasst Güterwagen.” What is this? What are you doing here? You're missing freight cars. Mary turned to the other side of the cab and saw a line of stone buildings resting against the back wall. A few doors and windows appeared in their sides. One of the doors was wide open. A man in a gray jacket with a clipboard had come from it and was walking briskly toward the slow-moving train. Mary could see even at that distance that he was upset and who knew if soldiers were nearby, ready to pounce. Mary had a feeling that perhaps they shouldn’t have come to the mountain.

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“Your highness, you must make a decision soon,” Otto von Bismarck said. Standing before a massive bay window, Wilhelm Friedrich Ludwig gazed through the glass at the palace garden lit in the rosy rays of the setting sun. The clouds were tinted red and strangely reminded him of blood on wool. During the day, gardeners trimmed hedges and pruned branches in the sprawling estate,

working hard to keep the place neat and orderly, which was how he wished government could be. The Austrian-Hungarian Empire was now marshalling troops at the borders. England had sent a threatening telegram while it had given orders for its mighty naval fleet to form a blockade around Germany. Kaiser Wilhelm had kept his men from engaging the British or the Austrians while he tried to figure out the dilemma. How could his own men attack Vienna? Who have given them orders? His generals certainly would do no such thing. So, who was ordering those Prussian troops to attack Vienna? “Your highness,” Otto said, “if we delay to send troops to the borders, we shall be open prey for the Austrians.” Silence met Bismarck’s plea, and the heaviness in the room grew more profound. “Otto,” the old man said quietly, “do you have any idea who sent me that telegram?” “Which one, sire?” Bismarck asked. “You know which one I am speaking of,” Wilhelm said calmly. Bismarck knew what the Kaiser was referring to. The bizarre telegram, claiming that the sender knew of a plot to create a global government, which involved the overthrow of the Kaiser, had been on his mind ever since he read it. “The sender is a nutcase,” Otto said, dismissively. “Forming a global government is impossible. The British would never stand for it, neither would the Germans, or the Turks, or the Chinese.” Wilhelm turned toward Bismarck and gazed at him with such intensity the Chancellor had seldom seen in the Kaiser. “I want to meet this sender as soon as he arrives,” Wilhelm said. “You will keep your troops from engaging the other countries until we meet this sender, understood?” As Chancellor of the German Empire, Bismarck was in charge of most military and governmental functions in the Empire, but Wilhelm maintained control over the most pressing decisions. “Yes, your highness,” Bismarck said, somewhat reluctant. “Otto, see to it that you make them comfortable,” Wilhelm said. “The House of Hohenzollern has never shown palace guests discourtesy.” “Yes, your highness.” Bismarck pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. “Sire, I’m feeling a cold coming on,” the Chancellor said. “I think I will retire to my residence early, if that is permissible.” “Otto,” Wilhelm said, putting emphasis on the last syllable, “you will be courteous to the gentleman when he arrives.”

A knock came at the door. Bismarck approached and pulled it open. A butler stood in the doorway. “Permission to enter,” he said. “Permission granted,” Kaiser Wilhelm said from across the room. The butler stepped just through the doorway and shut the door. “Your highness,” the butler said, “we have some men at the gate who claim to be the originators of a certain telegram that was sent to you yesterday. We tried to send them away, but they gave us a letter that bears a strange seal. We thought you would be interested.” The butler slipped a folded sheet of paper from his inner jacket pocket and Wilhelm hurried over to him, taking the letter gently from him as if it were a precious treasure. “Bring them to me immediately,” Wilhelm said as he carefully unfolded the paper. “Yes, your highness.” The butler was gone a moment later. Wilhelm got through most of the letter before a knock again came at the door. “Come in,” he said loudly. The door opened and the butler entered, followed by four palace guards and three men. The men were wearing clothes that had tiny splotches of mud. Their faces were covered with stubble and their hair appeared matted and unkempt, but otherwise they seemed rather normal in appearance. “His Imperial and Royal Majesty The German Emperor, King of Prussia, Emperor Wilhelm of Prussia--” “Let’s overlook the formalities and get down to business,” Wilhelm said, interrupting, while he approached the visitors. “And, you are…?” Wilhelm said to the men. “I am Andrew Kirsch,” a middle-aged man with trim mustache said, “this is Samuel Wallis, and this is Kurt…” Andrew said, realizing that he had forgotten Kurt’s last name. “I am Kurt Immelman.” “Very good,” Wilhelm said before turning to the butler. “You may leave us.” The butler bowed slightly and left. Sam eyed the palace guards suspiciously. Their uniforms were unique. Unlike common foot soldiers these troops were attired in light gray and clad in silver breastplates and silver helmets. Sam had trouble trusting soldiers after his experience during the past few days, and these guards were no exception. “Guards, you may leave,” Wilhelm said, motioning toward the door. Bismarck, who had been sitting in a settee, stood up. He walked over to Wilhelm and whispered in his ear. “Your highness, how do you know you can trust these men?” Bismarck said,

concerned. “I sometimes can be a good judge of character, Chancellor, and I can tell that these men are honest.” Turning to Andrew and his friends, Wilhelm gestured toward some nearby couches. “Please, have a seat.” He walked over to a table where a pitcher of water and a stack of glass cups rested. Filling three cups, he walked over to his guests and handed them each a cup of cold water. Sam was surprised that the Emperor of Germany would do something like that. Strangely, Wilhelm didn’t seem to mind. Once the Wilhelm had poured the last cup, he took a seat. “Normally, my servants would attend to my guests’ needs, but a little precaution goes a long way,” Wilhelm said with a little laugh. “We can’t be too careful these days.” The room was quiet except for the constant ticking of a mantle clock on a bookshelf on the back wall. Sam shifted nervously in his seat. He had not understood a word that was said and he wanted to ask Andrew for a translation of the German, but he didn’t want to make a scene. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and tried to appear comfortable. “Gentlemen,” Wilhelm said, clearing his throat, “I trust you have had a safe and productive journey?” Andrew stirred in his seat. “Yes, we have indeed, your Excellency.” “And, you have had dinner, I trust?” Wilhelm asked. “We had it aboard the train,” Andrew said. “Very good then.” Wilhelm leaned forward in his seat and said with a let’s-be-frank tone, “Listen, Andrew, you can just call me Kaiser Wilhelm. I want to streamline our conversation and get to the bottom of things. Please, tell me your story, starting from the point when you first entered this country.” “I’ll do my best,” Andrew said with a hint of a smile.

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The man who had just come from the brick building clutched his clipboard tightly as he walked up to the crawling locomotive. “You have only one boxcar. What happened to the rest?” he said loudly, glaring at John. “We had to get rid of some,” John replied in German. “Who ordered you to?”

The clipboard-toting official was not going to give up, Mary realized. “Pull that train to a stop and get out, all of you,” the man barked. John reluctantly lowered the throttle and put on the break. Steam hissed out from the cylinders, creating a thick cloud that partially concealed Mary as she dropped down to the opposite side of the locomotive. She knew that if the nosy official opened the boxcar, the jig would be up. He’d see the soldiers tied up and know that they were spies. From her new perspective, Mary could see the unloading arm removing boxes and other items from the boxcars parked on the siding. A conveyor belt continuously moved, bringing the boxes into a dark aperture. Curious what lay beyond, Mary skirted around the locomotive parked on the siding and walked toward the conveyor belt. The hum of machinery and the whirring of the robotic arm combined with the hissing of steam to create a strange atmosphere. He feet lurched forward as she set foot onto the conveyor belt and Mary almost lost her balance. She turned back toward the locomotives and caught sight of soldiers emerging from the brick buildings. Then, darkness. The unbroken shadow surrounded her with its black grip and Mary began to feel the icy fingers of fear clutching at her. Why did she feel so compelled to walk toward the black aperture? She thought of turning around, but now piles of boxes were blocking her path. Her desire to know what lay ahead kept her from scrambling over the boxes back the way she came. Mary tried to walk forward on the conveyor belt, but ran into a wall of boxes that reached past her head. This is no good, she thought. How can I see where I’m going? In a short time, Mary saw light penetrating through cracks between boxes. Eager to see, Mary moved closer and peeked through a crack, but more boxes blocked her view. Suddenly, she came out into a brightly lit warehouse filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Scores of robotic arms attached to tracks in the ceiling picked up boxes and arranged them on the shelves with swift and precise movements. She was amazed by the complexity organization and how not a single person was involved in the labor. The conveyor belt brought the boxes to a wide open area where dozens of robotic arms rapidly snatched up boxes and loaded them onto small flatcars that ran on a system of narrow-gage rails. The flatcars had some kind of electric motor that propelled them along. Once one was loaded, it scuttled off toward a shelf. Mary stepped off the belt lest she be snatched up as well. She ducked as a metal hand zipped past her, heading toward a box nearby. That was close, she thought. Who had come up with such a crazy system?

Voices came from somewhere in the warehouse and began to grow louder as they approached. Mary looked around for a place to hide. She couldn’t see any. The room was spacious and open, except for the shelves that ran through it like the shelves in a library. Mary ran toward an aisle between two shelf racks to get out of the middle of the room and flattened herself against a box on the lowest shelf. “The work is progressing on schedule,” a voice said, in German, distinctly from the other side of the shelf rack. “We have completed the last test and are awaiting the final results.” “You have taken longer than the Count desires,” another man said sternly. “Yes, but are second prototype had a trigger malfunction. It required time to redesign the trigger mechanism,” the first speaker said with frustration in his voice. “We have run into complications since then which have taken time to sort out. You have to understand that these things happen. But, at least, this time, we are just about ready.” “You better be ready,” the other speaker said coldly. “The Count will replace you if you fail your third try, understood?” Mary thought she heard the other man gulp. “Yes sir, I understand, but it will not fail this time. We have worked through all the quirks and have straightened them out, making adjustments to the calibration and cycle sequence modulator.” Mary watched as they came into view, walking toward the center of the room. One of the men wore a black uniform, jackboots and a peaked cap while the other wore a rumpled brown vest over a wool sweater. The man in the vest had gray streaks in his brown, ruffled hair and appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties. Both were facing each other with their backs partially turned to Mary. “Dr. Schnörkelheim,” the officer said in a monotone, “you will be strung up if one more thing goes wrong. Those are the Count’s words. You better not delay any more. The weapon must be ready by tomorrow night.” “Yes, sir,” Schnörkelheim said, “it will be ready.” Schnörkelheim, Mary thought. He must be Prospereau Schnörkelheim: the man they had been looking for all along. “Now, get back to work, or the Order will have your rotten little hide,” the officer said before turning and walking away. The officer walked toward a square of concrete ringed by black and yellow stripes and reached for his left wrist, tapping something attached to it. The square section of the floor, ringed by the stripes, lowered and slid away, revealing a square opening. In moments, a platform lined with railing on three sides surfaced. The officer stepped inside and tapped his wrist again, and the railed platform dropped through the floor, vanishing into darkness. A second

later, the square section slid closed and locked back into place. Mary watched the scientist as he stood staring at the floor. He seemed to be sad to Mary and she wanted to talk to him, but didn’t know if she could quite trust Prospereau. After all, he worked for the Order. As Mary breathed, something in the air gave her the urge to sneeze. She couldn’t help herself. Achoo! Her sneeze echoed through the room, causing the scientist to wheel around. “Who’s there?” Prospereau said as he turned, adjusting his round, wireframe glasses. When he caught sight of Mary, he let out a slight gasp. “What are you doing here? You’re an office worker, aren’t you?” Mary felt fear creep up like a spider. Her hair stood on end. Should she tell him the truth? Could she trust him?

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Chapter 14

Sam wished he knew German. He really wished he had studied languages better. He had only learned a smattering of German and only understood a few words here and there out of the many that were spoken in the drawing room

facing the palace gardens. He studied Kaiser Wilhelm’s face before turning his attention to Otto von Bismarck. Both men seemed to be deeply interested in Andrew’s account of the past few days. Bismarck stroked his thick mustache while Wilhelm sipped from his glass occasionally. When Andrew had finished, Sam asked Kurt what had been said. “Andrew just described your adventures over the past few days since you arrived in Prussia. And, he talked about the Order and how they had Prussian troops under their orders to invade Vienna.” “Excuse me, Mr. Samuel Wallis,” Kaiser Wilhelm said in English. “I apologize for not speaking in your native tongue. I forgot to mention that I am fairly fluent in English as well as German, French, and Italian.” Sam was surprised. He had no clue that the Kaiser knew English. “I had no idea, your high--” “Just call me Kaiser Wilhelm,” Wilhelm said, interrupting Sam. “I like your country and its people. One day, perhaps, I will be visit America.” “If you do, you should visit the Great Lakes,” Sam said. “They are freshwater seas.” “I intend to swim in them once this crisis is abated,” Wilhelm said. “Oh,” Andrew said, slapping himself on the forehead, “I forgot to give something to you, your highness.” Andrew pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket--the letter for Schmidt, and handed it to Wilhelm. The Kaiser pulled some wire-frame reading glasses from a pocket and read through the orders for the crime boss. His eyes opened wide. Once he had finished, Wilhelm stared at Andrew, mouth slightly open. “Mr. Kirsch, where did you get this letter from?” “We encountered a gang,” Andrew replied. “To make a long story short, we were able to apprehend the leader, Wolfgang Schmidt.” “He is on our wanted list,” Wilhelm said. “That no good crook has done more damage than any before him.” Wilhelm cleared his throat. “This letter undoubtedly came from this order, correct?” “It did, sir,” Andrew said, nodding. “You have convinced me of the veracity of your story.” Bismarck left his seat and bent down, whispering into Wilhelm’s ear. Wilhelm whispered back with an angry expression. After a few moments, Otto straightened up and returned to his seat. Wilhelm leaned back in his chair and looked from Sam to Andrew to Kurt. “Gentlemen, we have decided to believe you. I would normally discuss military matters with my generals and the secretary of war, but I have decided

to consult you first.” Sam perked up. “My generals have not seen all the things you have seen,” Kaiser Wilhelm said. “Tell me, who am I up against? What kind of foe is this ANUBIS?” “Your highness, ANUBIS is a deadly foe to your country,” Kurt said. “I worked for them as a slave. They impress people into their service just as the British did to the American’s in War of 1812. They have recently begun a process of brainwashing us to believe that we are free men who desire to serve ANUBIS and the Order. I tell you that the technology they have is far superior to any that exists in Prussia.” “What technology could be superior to that of Germany?” Otto von Bismarck said in English for the first time. Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of gray cloth. Everyone turned toward him and Bismarck frowned. “This is called Farbverschiebung,” Kurt said as he held the cloth up to the light. What is Kurt doing? Sam wondered. Kurt set the gray cloth on the red carpet at his feet and folded his hands. “What is the meaning of this?” Bismarck said, looking at Kurt as if he were a madman. Sam noticed something happening to the fabric. Slowly, it was starting to gain a reddish tint. Before twenty seconds had passed, the cloth had blended into the red carpet, even taking on the same texture and patterns. “This is incredible,” Wilhelm said, squinting at the place where the cloth had seemed to vanish. “This is nothing compared to the other things the Order’s scientists have invented,” Kurt said. “I have heard rumors that they have a device which can turn cities into dust.” “Nonsense,” Bismarck muttered, slightly deflated. Wilhelm ignored his chancellor. “It will level entire cities? What in the world could do that?” Sam mind was running at high speed while he had been listening. It all made sense now what Wolfgang Schmidt’s men were up to dropping off “packages” in various cities. They are planting bombs, Sam reasoned. And, these bombs can level entire cities so that anyone who dares to defy the Order and their ANUBIS will be bombed into submission. “We have to have someone go to the cities where the packages are being planted,” Sam said abruptly. “Why?” Bismarck said, frowning again. “I think those packages being planted are bombs.” “Bombs?” Wilhelm said, thinking deeply. “Why yes, of course they are

bombs. I didn’t think of that until you mentioned it.” “I will assemble teams to hunt down Schmidt’s agents,” Wilhelm said. “Bismarck,” Wilhelm said firmly, “you will assemble the teams. We must do it immediately.” “Tonight?” Bismarck said, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, tonight,” Wilhelm barked. “Now, go to it!” “Yes, your highness,” Bismarck said as he stood and bowed slightly. Once he had left the room, Wilhelm stood to his feet. “Where is Wolfgang Schmidt?” the Kaiser said. “We have him tied up in our train,” Sam replied. “Get him down here now,” Wilhelm said authoritatively. “We need him to talk.”

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The scientist looked at her with narrowed eyes. What should Mary say to him? Should she tell him the truth? Mary decided she would tell the truth. Prospereau Schnörkelheim was too intelligent to believe anything she made up, and Mary knew lying was wrong. “I am Mary Kirsch,” she said, trying to control the fear in her voice. “I am with a team sent to find you.” Prospereau frowned in confusion. “What team? What are you talking about?” Mary realized that she needed to spill the beans, so to speak. “Dr. Schnörkelheim, I was part of a team sent to locate and rescue you. We had information suggesting that you were captured by a secret society called the Order.” Prospereau studied Mary’s face for a long time, scrutinizing her, perhaps to see whether or not he could trust her. At last, he spoke. “I was captured by the Order. That is correct, but I must obey them now.” “Why?” Mary said, surprised. “Why do you need to obey them?” Prospereau turned around and glanced left and right before turning his attention back to Mary. “If I don’t they will kill me,” Prospereau said in a hushed tone. “We’re not going to let that happen,” Mary said resolutely. “We’re here to break you out of this prison.” The scientist looked more nervous than before. “Who sent you?” “King Oscar the Second of Sweden,” Mary replied, smiling. “My dad, Andrew, and another man we trust are back in the unloading room through that doorway.”

Mary pointed at the dark tunnel opening with the moving conveyor belt. Prospereau glanced that direction before focusing back on Mary. “Give me one reason to believe you,” he said. “I’m an American,” Mary said in English. Prospereau cracked a smile for the first time. “I see,” he said in English. “I thought I heard a trace of an American accent when you were speaking to me in German. I am fluent in seven languages, American being one of them.” Mary laughed lightly at his joke. She thought she might like this guy. “I need to get my things together,” Prospereau said. “Dr. Schnörkelheim, we’re going to have to hurry. I fear my father could be in danger. I saw soldiers approaching our train,” Mary said. “Please, call me Petrus. That is my middle name.” “Petrus,” Mary said. “That is an interesting name.” “It is a Latin word meaning rock,” Schnörkelheim said. “Let’s hurry,” Mary said, nodding toward the dark opening. Somewhat reluctantly, Petrus--as he now was called--followed Mary through the opening, walking on the conveyor belt. “If you walk over to your right there is a stationary walkway,” Petrus said. “I wish I knew that earlier,” Mary said as she skirted around some boxes and headed for the walkway in the dark. Presently, both emerged in the unloading chamber. The train on the siding was steaming up, preparing to leave, but Engine 52 was nowhere to be seen. Fear gripped Mary’s heart like a fist clutching at her. What had become of her father? The soldiers Mary had seen earlier were gone as was the officer. “Hello,” Prospereau Petrus called up to the engineer in the locomotive. The man turned toward the scientist and frowned. “What is it?” “Did you see a locomotive here just a short time ago?” Petrus asked. “Yes. It chugged off, moving backward. I think they had made a mistake,” the burly engineer replied. “How long ago was that?” Mary asked. “I’ll guess a couple minutes ago,” the engineer said after flipping his pocket watch open. Petrus didn’t wait a moment longer. With Mary in tow, he hurried across the tracks and walked up to the brick building that was nestled against the cavern wall. He placed his hand on a black pad beside a pair of metal double doors and the doors unlocked. Shoving them open, Schnörkelheim said, “Don’t follow me.” He closed the door behind him firmly, locking Mary out. A thought came to her mind in a flash: was he going to telegraph or telephone

someone to arrest her and stop Engine 52? A minute later, the double doors reopened and the front end of a strange cart-like vehicle poked through. The rest popped out, followed by Petrus who shoved it, applying his strength. Mary joined him in pushing it toward the railroad tracks. Then, together, they lifted it and set the metal wheels on the tracks. Unlike the hand-pumped rail carts Mary had seen before, this machine had a small electric motor. A metal rail graced the front end of the car with an attached power switch and a throttle lever that could move it either forward or backward. Petrus snapped on the power switch built into the rail and shoved the throttle lever forward, which was mounted beside the switch. The little car accelerated rapidly, causing Mary to almost lose her balance. “Hey,” a man shouted from behind, “what are you doing with that? You’re not authorized to take that.” Mary looked back toward the brick building. A three men had emerged from it. Two were soldiers. The other was the officer she had seen earlier. “Stop!” the officer shouted. Petrus didn’t seem to notice as he increased the throttle and flipped another switch to turn on a little headlamp that lit the way. Before they passed through the arched entryway that led into the dark tunnel, Mary caught sight of the soldiers opening the double doors Dr. Schnörkelheim had just opened. “We’re already being pursued,” Mary said, worried. “That’s what I feared,” Petrus said.

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“What are in the packages?” Wilhelm said, staring at the mustached crime boss who was seated on a couch across from him. Two palace guards stood on either side of him, ready for anything he might try. Iron handcuffs ringed his wrists in place of the rope Andrew had used earlier. Wolfgang Schmidt glared at the Kaiser, but kept his mouth shut. Sam could tell that the gangster knew more than what was written in the letter, but Wolfgang wasn’t talking. Thankfully, Wilhelm had chosen to interrogate the crook in English for Sam’s benefit. “If you talk now,” Wilhelm said, “I will see to it that you spend less time in jail.”

Schmidt remained defiantly silent with a sneer plastered on his face. “Your highness,” Bismarck said, “I don’t think we will learn much more from him.” Wilhelm nodded, sighing. “I think you’re right, Otto.” Sam had watched the Kaiser, Andrew, and the Chancellor interrogate--or try to interrogate--Schmidt for the past hour or so. The crime boss had remained as silent as a sleeping cat. Surely, there had to be a better way of learning about the crook’s orders from the Count, the mysterious individual tied to ANUBIS. “Kaiser Wilhelm,” Sam said in a moment when no one was talking. “Yes.” “Do you have a magnifying glass? I would like to inspect the letter from the Count. Also, I will need red cabbage water.” Wilhelm stood up and walked over to the door of the sitting room. Opening it, he called to butler who was walking down the hall, asking him to get the required items, and the butler hurried off on that errand. “So, why would you need red cabbage water?” Wilhelm asked. “You will see,” Sam said, mysteriously. He took the letter and sat down beside a table lamp, examining it in the light. Sure enough, he though he saw something on the back of the letter. It was hard to see, but it appeared to be a tiny symbol. It looked like the three flames or tear drops he had seen on the black uniforms of officers at Wurzel Anlage. However, unlike the standard three-flame symbol, this one was ringed by a circle. Shooting out from the circle were five lightning-bolts: one at the top of the circle and two at the bottom. Strange, Sam thought. What could be the significance of five lightning bolts? The symbol looked pagan and evil and Sam couldn’t help shuddering slightly. Before long, a knock came at the door and, when the door was opened, the butler entered with a glass cup filled with a purple liquid and a plate. Wilhelm indicated Sam, saying, “Geben Sie sowohl zu ihm.” Give both to him. Sam took the items and set them down on the lamp table nearby. Then, the butler produced a magnifying glass from a breast pocket and handed it to Sam. Everyone watched, including the butler, as Sam set the letter on the plate and tipped the glass containing the red cabbage water toward the letter. “Stop!” Bismarck said, standing to his feet. “This is madness. He is trying to damage the letter.” “I am not going to damage the letter. Please observe,” Sam said, calmly. Wilhelm held up a cautioning hand to Bismarck and he reluctantly sat down. Sam poured a small stream of the purple fluid onto the paper. Almost

instantly, red letters began to appear on what had been the white backside of the letter. “What is happening?” Kurt said, standing from his seat. “The acidic red cabbage water is reacting with white acidic vinegar ink to make the invisible ink visible,” Sam explained. “I read about it in a science book.” “Of course,” Wilhelm said, slamming his forehead, “I should have realized it may have had invisible ink. We use it all the time for important documents.” Wolfgang Schmidt leaned forward and squinted at Sam. He broke his silence for the first time since arriving at the palace. “It was written in invisible ink?” Schmidt said, cringing. “Why didn’t I think of that? Blast it!” “Silence,” Wilhelm said firmly, still watching Sam pour. Once he was done, Sam handed the plate with the soaked letter to Wilhelm. “Please read these important instructions,” Wilhelm read. “Your men are carrying advanced technology that is somewhat fragile and very difficult to produce. Do not let your men be rough with the packages. If any of them do not function properly when we activate our weapons systems, we will flay your flesh and burn you alive. We will invade Germany regardless of whether or not our mountain weapon systems can be activated or not. And, when we do, we will search high and low until we find you. Sincerely, the Count.” Schmidt gulped and swallowed. Sam noticed the fear on his face. “So, what do you suppose these mountain weapons systems are and how do they tie into the packages?” Kaiser Wilhelm asked no one in particular. “It appears that the weapons systems--whatever they are--can only be lethal if the packages are in good working order,” Andrew speculated. “So, what are the weapons systems that are so technologically advanced?” Wilhelm asked, scratching his chin. “I have heard rumors about a weapon so advanced that when it is fired,” Kurt said, “no one would be able to survive its impact.” “Could it be some kind of giant cannon?” Bismarck said. “Maybe,” Kurt said, “but I thought I heard it was something different.” While they talked, the butler quietly slipped out of the room, but left the door open ajar.

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“Stop!” a voice shouted from behind as they rushed down the tracks. Mary turned to gaze back and cringed as she saw not one by three electric rail carts speeding toward them. Three soldiers occupied each cart. One attended to

the controls while the other two held Mausers at ready. “If you will not stop,” a soldier shouted, “you will be killed. You have stolen government property and are evading capture. If you persist, we will have to shoot.” “Can you accelerate any faster?” Mary asked Petrus. The scientist shook his head. “Unfortunately, this is as fast as she goes.” “You have chosen to defy government soldiers,” the guard shouted. “Therefore, you will die.” Blam. Blam. Blam. Shots rang out the instant he said “die”. Mary ducked, instinctively. The headlamp beam from the other cart illuminated her well, but the soldiers were still some distance away. “Do you carry a gun?” Mary asked. “They do not allow us to carry any form of arms,” Petrus said. “I am basically a slave.” Blam. Blam. Blam. More shots came, whizzing over their heads. The tunnel curved to the right. As they rounded the corner, Mary noticed a big chunk of rock lying off to the side of the tracks near a tunnel wall. “Stop,” Mary said, suddenly. Schnörkelheim pulled the cart to a stop just a few feet past the rock and turned back toward Mary. “There better be a good reason for this,” he said. Mary hopped of the cart and ran up to the rock. “I need your help,” she said, trying to lift the chunk. Petrus hurried up to her and helped her lift it onto the back of the cart. Mary could tell that he already guessed what she intended to do with it. Once it was on, they both mounted the cart and Petrus accelerated it as fast as it could go with the added weight. The first of the pursuing carts came around the bend, but Mary was ready for it. As the cart got within fifteen feet she saw a soldier taking aim. “We got you now,” the driver said brazenly. The gap closed to twelve feet in a second. The soldier had Mary’s heart in his sights. Before he could fire, Mary shoved the rock with all her might and it tumbled onto the tracks. Blam. The gun went off at point blank range, but it was not aimed at Mary’s heart any longer. In the second it took for the soldier to pull the trigger, the cart hit the large rock and flipped forward, sending the soldiers flying. The gun fired--aimed at the ground--as they hurtled through the air. With the added weight gone, Mary’s cart accelerated faster. In a couple seconds, the two other pursuing carts slammed into the flipped cart and bodies went flying. Mary cringed again. She didn’t like death, but she would fight to survive. She

wanted to live to meet Sam again. How she missed him now. Mary longed to spend time with him in a quiet place, away from the hubbub of life and rest her head against his shoulder. After a few moments had passed, Prospereau Petrus Schnörkelheim turned toward her. “You really are an intrepid woman, Ms. Kirsch.” “I do my best,” Mary said, blushing slightly. She was glad Petrus couldn’t see her face in the darkness. Only the road ahead was lit in their headlamp. “Oh look,” Mary said, pointing forward. “Our train.” Ahead, down the tracks, Engine 52 was inching onto the siding that was attached to the elevator platform. A sliver of its headlamp beam was coming from around the corner as it backed up into the elevator shaft. As John stepped out of the cab and walked toward an elevator control column, Mary and Petrus pulled up beside him. John turned toward them, surprised. He had heard the gunshots some distance away, but he had not heard them approach. “Mary,” he said, smiling, “where have you been? And, who is this?” “It’s a long story,” Mary said. “We need to hurry. Soldiers were chasing us.” Petrus walked up to the control column and said, “If you’ll allow me.” John back away a few feet. “What is your name?” Petrus shoved the control lever on the dial down to the 10 position and the lever sprang back to its original position. “There is no time to talk now,” he said as he walked up to the locomotive cab. Ivan hopped down from the cab, landing in front of Petrus. “Who are you?” the big Russian said. “I’m Dr. Schnörkelheim,” Petrus said. “And, I’m trying to escape.” “So, you’re Prospereau Schnörkelheim,” John said, extending his hand to the scientist. “I am John Wallis, and it is a pleasure to meet you.” “You can just call me Petrus and the pleasure is mine,” Petrus said, shaking his hand and adjusting his round glasses. With a powerful hydraulic groan, the siding platform began to descend through the shaft. The men and Mary hurried aboard the cab, and waited for the elevator to arrive at the last level. “Petrus,” Mary said, “I was wondering, now that we have a chance to talk more, what weapon did that officer want you to perfect?” “His name is Colonel Anton Klaue and he is pure evil,” Petrus said, shuddering. “He is the project manager of Corridor.” “What is Corridor?” Mary asked, curious. “I’ll tell you more once we reach the tenth level,” Petrus said.

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Steam and smoke escaped from the smokestack and cylinders as Engine 52 chugged through the dark tunnels on the tenth level of the mountain base. Mary listened while John attempted to make conversation with the scientist, but Petrus was very quiet when he didn’t want to talk. He seemed to be testing the air with his nose and staring off into space. His brown hair streaked with gray here and there looked somewhat odd for a man in his forties. A few of the patches were even white, possibly from stress. Prospereau Petrus Schnörkelheim’s character matched his name: mysterious and eccentric. He would pull out a small magnifying glass from one of his vest pockets and study his skin in the light of a match flame. Such was his habit that Mary noticed him doing it twice during their descent to the tenth level and a couple more times in the past seven minutes. “Prosper--I mean, Petrus,” Mary said, tapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice her as he gazed at his skin, holding a match up to a magnifying glass. “Petrus,” Mary repeated. “Yes?” he said eventually. “What are you doing?” “I’m examining my eccrine glands,” he said while still looking through the lens. “Why are you doing that?” she asked, not knowing what he was talking about. “I want to see how my sweat is secreted,” he replied, still looking. “Oh.” Mary didn’t know what to say. Somehow, despite his quirks, this man fascinated her. “Dr. Schnörkelheim,” John said from a few feet way, “when will we arrive at our destination? We’ve been traveling through this tunnel for over twelve minutes.” “You’ll need to start slowing the train down in two and a half minutes,” Petrus said, still looking at his skin. A little over a mile later, the train slowly chugged toward an iron door that blocked the path. A guard booth lay to the left side of the door, built into a nook in the wall. With a hiss of steam, the locomotive came to a rest a few yards from the door. “I’ll handle this,” Petrus said as he replaced his magnifying glass and approached the steps. A guard came out of the shack, holding his Mauser menacingly. He appeared as if he was would aim at Petrus and shoot if given the slightest provocation.

“What is your business here?” the guard said. “I work here. You should remember me,” Petrus said, handing a piece of blue paper to the guard. “I was transferred here yesterday,” the guard replied as he skimmed through the identification. After a few moments, the guard handed the paper back to Petrus. “You may proceed once the door is open,” the guard said before walking back to the booth. Mary had stepped down after Petrus and came up behind him. In the light coming from the windows of the small brick building, she could see the guard making a phone call. He hung up the phone and right then a loud, interlocking sound, as of a giant bolt being unlocked, came from the door. A whirring came next and the metal door creaked under its own weight as it slowly lifted up into the ceiling. Beyond lay a room Mary would never had expected to see or could have imagined. “Mary, get back in the train,” Petrus said as he walked toward the cab. She climbed up after him while the train chugged slowly forward. Mary leaned out to look at the room they were entering, taking in the sights with childlike awe, which was somehow combined with a sense that all was not right. Nothing she had seen during this adventure had prepared her for this. A giant globe of electricity bobbled, undulated, and vibrated as zigzagging lines of electricity shot into it from three cylindrical objects attached to the floor. The tracks ran parallel to a wall, but a siding appeared to the right on the side opposite the wall. At the back of the medium-sized room, two metal doors with round windows, like the portholes of a ship, appeared in the blue light coming from the electricity. John pulled the train off onto the siding and the engine came to a full stop. Now, it had to cool down. He moved a control to release the steam pressure and clouds of white vapor poured from the cylinders and smoke stack, making the electric phenomenon even more mysterious. Mary climbed down and started walking toward the sphere of electricity as if drawn to it. This was surreal. She had seen something almost identical to this in the sky over the Alps a few hours earlier. A hand touched her shoulder. She turned to see Petrus. “Don’t get too close,” he cautioned. “What is that?” Mary asked, curiously. “That is a prototype,” Petrus said, “of a device called Thor’s Hammer.” “What does it do?” “The full version--not the prototype--can destroy everything withing a target area of fifty square miles,” Petrus said, nudging his glass up.

“Fifty square miles,” Mary echoed, amazed. “How is that possible?” “I’ll explain it as simply as possible for the sake of brevity and clarity. The three nodes on the floor have prongs that go deep into the rock. To describe how these nodes function is too involved to get into now. Suffice it to say, they absorb energy stored in the atomic structures of the constituting elements of the earth. The nodes convert this energy into what we call threshold potential. The threshold potential is stored up energy, so to speak. When activated, the nodes convert this potential energy into what we call threshold kinetic. This energy produces a discharge of electrons as a result of its interactions with air molecules. Thus, the electricity is a side effect.” “I’m not quite following you,” Mary said. “Oh, sorry. I am so used to speaking with fellow researchers. Basically, the three cylinders in the floor are nodes which absorb energy and convert it into usable energy. The sphere hovering above the nodes is actually a warping of the three dimensions which we call legth, width, and height--or a distortion in the space continuum. This bubble is filled with a dense quantity of energy waiting to be released.” “Like the steam in the boiler,” John Wallis said from behind. “Who invented this…this thing?” Ivan said as he approached. Petrus turned to Ivan with solemn look in his eyes. “The fallen ones.” Mary backed up a few feet. “Petrus, what are you talking about?” The scientist looked at all three with a sense of foreboding. “Promise me you will never speak a word of this to anyone but those you absolutely trust.” “We promise,” Mary said. “I will never tell a soul except for my grandson, Samuel,” John said, “whom I trust completely.” “You can trust Ivan Bolotnikov,” Ivan said. “The Bolotnikovs are known for their trustworthiness.” Petrus took a cursory glance around the room to make sure it was vacant except for them. Then, he said in a low voice, “I entered this project a few months ago. After I got to know some of the team members better, some of them talked about the history of Corridor. Corridor was started by the Order nearly thirty years ago. They contructed this mountain facility after five years of testing at a secret location in Germany.” The scientist took a deep breath and closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. Mary could tell he didn’t feel comfortable saying what he said. Petrus continued, “All during their early stages of testing and up to the present time, the top eight scientists and the project manager, Colonel Anton Klaue, have been contacting, quote, ‘ascended masters’ or the spirits of our, quote, ‘ancestors’. But, I call them the fallen ones. As I gleaned more information, I

learned that these entities they are contacting have a malevolent agenda. The beings have given us this technology for the purpose of helping to bring in a new age and a global government.” “The Order has the same goals,” Mary said. “And that is why the order was contacting these spirits,” Petrus said. “No one should be contacting the spirits of the dead,” Ivan said, shuddering. “I don’t believe they are actually spirits of the dead,” Petrus said. “For one thing, the dead would not have such an agenda and the dead would not know how to develop such advanced technology.” Petrus looked from one person to the next as he said, “We are dealing with inter-dimensional beings from another world and they are evil, more so than Jack the Ripper, Nero, or Judas Iscariot.” “They must be fallen angels,” Mary said, frowning. “You could be correct,” Petrus said. “Some of them have actually materialized in angel-like forms, according to the scientists I spoke with.” “Do they believe that Jesus Christ is just a man and not God?” Mary asked. “I don’t know,” Petrus said. “But, I do know that they are in control of the Order and are directly in control of Corridor.” He started walking toward the far end of the room, skirting around the electrical array. The others followed him. “They want me to help make the final adjustments to Thor’s Hammer,” Petrus said as he walked. “Once those have been made, they will fire it at a test city in Germany, and then at Berlin.” “So, they want to get rid of Kaiser Wilhelm and the German Empire?” John said. Petrus turned toward John. “And,” he said, “anyone else who would oppose them.” “We must stop them,” Ivan said, punching his fist. “With your help,” Petrus said, “we can try. Until you folks showed up, I feared that I would have to sacrifice my life to sabatoge Thor’s Hammer.” “How can we help?” Mary asked. Petrus stepped up to one of the two doors with the circular window and placed his hand on a black pad to the left of the door. It unlocked and popped forward an inch. Petrus grabbed the handle and yanked it wide open. “You’ll soon see,” he said with a wink.

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Chapter 15

Excusing himself, Sam walked toward the door the butler had just passed through a few seconds ago. Something did not feel right about the man and

Sam wanted to investigate. He quietly closed the door behind him and slipped on his black leather greatcoat, which he had brought with him from the train. His footsteps, thankfully, were muffled on the long, ornate throw rug that ran down the center of the hallway. Statues, paintings, doors, and sofas lined the halls as far as he could see in either direction. A handful of servants walked down the corridor, but very few. Sam instantly spotted the suspect striding quickly down the hall and making a beeline for a large exit door. Trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, Sam followed, his heartbeat accelerating slightly. He checked to make sure he still had the pistol tucked under his belt and touched the wooden handle. Good. The butler eased the door open and slipped through, shutting it behind him quietly. Sam approached the door and opened it a crack, peeking through. He saw a narrow hallway with a door at the end. The suspect glanced behind him furtively before yanking it open. Once the door was closed, Sam shoved through the first door and ran to the second. His hands were starting to feel moist with sweat as he reached for the handle. He eased this open and peeked through to the outside. A formal garden bordering a dense grove of oaks and evergreens caught his eye in the first seconds before he spotted the butler heading toward the dense grove. The man was walking faster. Sam slipped out and hurried after him, hoping that he would not glance behind him. No one was in sight and only the lights coming from the windows of the palace partially revealed the grounds in a buttery yellow hue. Dark shadows, like wraiths stretched toward Sam as he jogged through the short stretch of lawn between the palace and the woodlot. Stars were peaking through the clouds and the pockmarked orb was shining its blue lunar light. Branches brushed past Sam, whipping at his black leather greatcoat like skeletal hands, but he ignored them. Ahead, barely discernable through the trees and small patches of moonlight, the butler walked along a path toward a denser patch of trees and bushes. Sam waited a few seconds before following him in. The trail was not as well maintained as it should have been and walking through it was a fight. Branches squeezed him in their prickly embrace as he shoved through a narrow part of the trail. A crackling sound came through the trees from fifteen to twenty feet away. What is that? Sam thought as he shoved through the branches, squinting to protect his eyes from the pine needles of a nearby evergreen. Presently, Sam caught sight of a small clearing. An old crumbling statue stood on a short pedestal, lichen growing from its decaying features. A granite medieval knight rested a sword tip against the pedestal. His grim and noble face perpetually stared off into the dense trees and thorn bushes surrounding his

clearing. Other than the statue, the clearing appeared to be empty. Or, was it? Sam noticed an object on the ground, a few feet away from the pedestal. In the moonlight, it looked like a black strip of leather. Sam squinted at it as he approached. No, it wasn’t a strip of leather. Sam opened his eyes wider while he bent down to touch a line of scorched grass. The scorched strip appeared to be over fifteen feet in length and cut through the middle of the clearing as if someone had intentionally burned it with a torch. As Sam examined it more closely, he noticed that it was too straight to have been done by a torch. It looked as if a red hot piece of metal had been lain across the clearing. Sam looked at the surrounding foliage. A hedge of thorn bushes surrounded the clearing. It was probably intentionally planted keep people out. The butler couldn’t have crashed through the thorn bushes and he couldn’t have taken another path. Sam could see that there was only one path leading into the clearing and that was the path he had taken. It look as if the butler had just vanished into thin air.

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Mary followed the others as they stepped through the door and into a massive square room, lit by square ceiling lights. A raised dais occupied the middle of the room. Terraces or circular steps marched up to it from the floor. Cutting through the middle of the terraces or steps, a ramp led up to the flat top where three metal columns rested, arranged in a triangular formation. A row of what appeared to be filing cabinets rested against one wall of the room. A number of thick cables snaked out from the filing cabinets and up into the bases of the three tall metal columns, spaced wide apart. A conjested mess of cables covered nearly all of the floor space at ground level. Hoses dropped down to the bases of the three columns from a metal hemisphere in the ceiling above the columns. Mary was grateful the room was vacant. She was afraid that the guards had been notified of Petrus’s unauthorized departure from the fifth level of the base. In the back of her mind, Mary feared that the brute squade would suddenly burst through the doors. John let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “What in the world is that contraption?” he said half to himself and half to Mary. Petrus walked over to the “filing cabinets”, stepping over the tangled mass of cables. Mary watched as he pressed his palm against the metal surface and it lit

up with a bluish glow where his palm touched it. Then, like a ripple in a pond, the blue light spread across the entire surface of the machine in a dazzling light show. Thousands of characters appeared in the surface of the bizarre machine and the scientist began to poke them with his index fingers, typing rapidly. Each time he poked a symbol, it glowed orange and remained glowing orange. After a minute of this, Petrus stepped away and studied the orange glowing characters. Satisfied he had done a good job, he shoved his hand into the side of the machine and a small compartment moved inward. While he had typed at the symbols, Mary had walked up to Petrus to see what he was doing. Now, she could see Petrus shoving his full hand, palm first, into the compartment. A black pad at the far end of the compartment glowed orange as he touched it with his palm. Withdrawing it, Petrus looked at Mary and nodded toward the dais. She followed his gaze to the dais and blinked twice. Lines of electricity were starting to flow over the three metal columns like snakes of blue fire. They fizzled and clapped as they sparked from the metal as if the were living creatures. Lines of electricity shot from one column to another, arching across the gaps between in instantaneous flashes of blue light. A crackling buzz filled the air as the lines of electricity writhed and snapped across the gaps. “What is that?” Ivan said, pointing at the phenomena with a trembling hand. For the first time since she had met Ivan, Mary saw him showing genuine fear. The burly Russian was starting to back away, moving toward the wall. The electricity began to increase in density and size, bathing the room in bluish light. The streams of electrons crackling through the air intensified further, and, as they did, Mary noticed a tiny circle of light appear in the middle of the air between the two columns facing the ramp. The circle of light was increasing in size quickly. Before long, it had grown fifteen feet in diameter between the two columns. The third column was now firing a shower of electricity toward the giant, vertical circle between the two other the columns. Strangely, the electricity coming from the third column was vanishing into the circle as it it were being sucked up by a vacuum. Mary walked toward the ramp and ascended it until she could see the circle clearly. Mary’s jaw dropped. John and Ivan followed Mary and both looked at each other as if they had seen a ghost. Smiling at their expressions, Petrus walked up behind them. “You have never seen anything like it before,” he said, “and hopefully you will never see anything like it again.” Prospereau Petrus Schnörkelheim squeezed between Mary and John and motioned toward the machine with a hand.

“You are looking at the Translocation by Synchronous Field Emission and Gravitic Distortion and Propulsion Generator. For short, we call it the TRG.” Mary was gazing, through the floating circle, at a forest filled with pines and hardwoods. Birds were fluttering and chirping from their perches in the trees. One bird--a finch--left its perch and flew toward the circle. Before Mary’s eyes, the finch darted through the circle and into the large chamber. The little red bird flapped through the air, zigzagging around the room, having just come from what looked like a circular window into a quiet forest setting. What is this unnatural thing? Mary thought. Am I dreaming? “Sadly, the TRG is technology we could never have developed without the aid of the fallen ones,” Petrus said. “These entities are bent on one aim: the complete destruction of mankind, and they will do anything in their power to accomplish this.” “They must be fallen angels,” Mary said. “I would have to agree with you,” Petrus said and he stared off into space. “I used to not think much of the spiritual world, but, over the past few months, I have seen things that are physically impossible to explain.” Petrus turned to face Mary, John, and Ivan. “I sware to you--” “You shouldn’t be swearing flippantly,” Mary said. “Okay, I won’t swear,” Petrus said, consenting, “I promise you on my honor that I saw a demonic entity materialize before a group of us scientists during a meeting.” “What did it look like?” Ivan said. “Like an angel,” Petrus said. “But, he was telling us that it was necessary to eradicate the population of quote ‘less highly evolved humans’ so that an age of peace could be brought in.” “That sounds like the devil,” Mary said, frowning. “What you see before you is a trans-continuum gateway or portal. You are looking at a forest ten miles from Vienna, Austria.” Suddenly, at Mary viewed the portal, an armored vehicle came into view, smashing its way through bushes. Mary instantly recognized it at a wolverine. The six-wheeled machine was followed by a whole line of wolverines and armored troop trucks. Running beside them, moving at least twenty five miles per hour, giants in gray greatcoats with armored breastplates and helmets appeared. Somehow, they sounded faint and distant even though they appeared just a couple dozen yards in front of them. “It looks like ANUBIS has started the invasion of Austria,” Petrus said, tightning his jaw. “This is very bad. Soon, a wide-scale invasion of Europe will be underway.” “What can we do to stop it?” Mary asked. “I will be risking my life, but I can redirect Thor’s Hammer to fire at the

Order’s battalions,” Petrus said as he started walking back down the ramp. He scambled over the wires and cables and went back to the massive machine which reminded Mary of filing cabinets. Petrus worked quickly, typing in codes and commands, making the surface light up. “I can control Thor’s Hammer from here,” Petrus said while he worked. “Normally, we used target beacons which are concealed in suitcases or boxes to make Thor’s Hammer more accurate. An agent will place the beacon in the center of a city or a test range. When fired, Thor’s Hammer can obliterate the beacon and everything within a radius of ten feet to ten miles. The destructive radius is adjustable. Without a beacon, Thor’s Hammer is inaccurate, but deadly nonetheless.” “What do you intend to destroy?” Mary asked, nervously. “I intend to hit the Order where it hurts the most,” Petrus said calmly as he typed. Pressing one final symbol that caused the others to glow red, Petrus walked up to the wall beside the large machine and placed his hand on its surface. A hidden panal glowed blue before sliding open automatically. Petrus reached into a recess and pulled out a bulky, metal suitcase, and then a second one. “Okay,” he said, carrying the two suitcases, “let’s go.” Mary turned her attention back to the portal and gasped slightly. The forest setting had changed. Now, she was looking at black, stone wall. Moss was growing on the outside in patches. “Let’s hurry. We only have fifteen minutes to place the target beacon,” Petrus said as he strained under the weight of the suitcases. Ivan took one from him and all four headed toward the portal. The came out the other end instantly. Ivan looked around, bewildered. John scratched his head. Mary looked back at the circle which was rimmed by a bluish, sparkling light. She could see the austere TRG room through it and a steep, mountainous slope beyond. Turning back toward the black, stone wall, Mary looked up to see a battlement with the medieval crenelations to protect archers during a siege. She was standing on verdant grass before a massive castle on the side of a mountain. In the blue distance, camel hump mountain ranges with low laying clouds appeared, giving Mary a sense of her new location. She was in the Alps, but no longer underground. Petrus moved close to the wall and set his suitcase down. He placed his palm on it and it glowed blue around his hand, unlocking automatically. He pulled out a strange-looking gun. It looked like a metal tube ringed with hundreds of metal bands and covered with dozens of small metal boxes. The rear end of the gun was bulky and boxy. To Mary, it looked like something cobbled together from spare parts found at a dump.

“What is that?” Mary asked. “An atomic warping device. Or, simply, a warping gun. It warps the atomic structure of a solid object to produce a hole large enough to pass through. When you press a special switch, the atoms are returned to their former positions.” “We have company,” Ivan said, pointing back toward the open, circular portal. Mary whipped her head around to stare through the portal. Through it she could see the large chamber where the TRG was located. The door at the back of the room was open and giant soldiers in grey uniforms were squeezing through. Each carried a strange kind of gun. Based on what Mary knew of the Order now, she feared what kind of destruction those guns could do. “The Macht Soldaten,” Petrus said, cringing. “They came sooner than I thought possible.” Petrus reached for the second suitcase and popped it open with lightning speed. Ivan pulled out a second warping gun. Petrus reached toward one of the small boxes attached to the surface of the gun and flipped it open to reveal a red button. “Aim the gun at a wall and press the red button,” the scientist said. He flipped open another small box to reveal a black button and said, “Press the black button the close the hole.” Ivan pointed his gun at the black castle wall and pressed the red button. Mary glanced back at the portal to see a super soldier running up the ramp toward the gateway. They had been spotted. When Mary returned her gaze to the wall, she saw, to her complete astonishment, a tunnel running through what had been a solid castle wall. Bluish light rimmed the tunnel, obscuring the cutaway section of the wall. She saw Prospereau Petrus running through, carrying a metal suitcase, and Ivan standing on the other side. Mary rushed toward the hole and ran through. Just as she did, the giant came through the portal like a charging bull. He headed for the tunnel in the stone wall. Just before he reached it, Ivan pressed the black button and the tunnel shrunk to nothing, leaving the stone wall as it had been before. Strangely, the process of opening and closing a tunnel was silent. Mary wondered why, but now was not the time for questions. Super soldiers were pouring through the portal like bees from a hive. “Halt,” a black-uniformed officer said. He was standing in the doorway of what had once been a stone church building in the grassy bailey. Ivan pointed his warping gun at him. “Raise your hands! Now!” The officer did, looking at the Russian like he was a madman. John walked up to him and took his pistol from his holster. “Take us to the dungeon,” Petrus said firmly, also pointing his gun at the

officer, while holding the suitcase in his other hand. “You are outnumbered here,” the officer said with an arrogant smile. “You will never to get away with this.” “Just get moving,” Ivan said firmly, “or you’ll get this.” Spurred on by the threat, the officer walked toward the keep, a huge, towering castle building with turrets and arrow slits. Two Prussian soldiers chatted in front of a wooden, iron-braced door. “Open the door,” the officer ordered. The guards hesitated, seeing the guns, but when Ivan pointed one at them, they complied and unlocked it with a key. As they stepped through, John said to Petrus, “We didn’t need to even use the door. “That’s true, but we would still have to face the guards.” “The giant soldiers will be coming into the castle at any moment,” Mary said as they walked down a narrow stone hallway lit by yellow torchlight. The group turned a corner, and the officer pulled out a key from his pocket to unlock another wooden door. The officer snatched a torch from a wall sconce before they entered a stairwell and began descending a spiral staircase, passing a closed, locked door in the stairwell. “You all are fools,” the officer said as he led the way. “Do you realize where you are?” No one replied, so he said, “You have come to the Castle of Odin. You will never be able to escape. The Order of the Black Dragon regularly meets here. No outsider has seen inside this castle and has left alive. We have defenses that even the best soldier would never be able to escape from.” His words were met with silence. The officer turned around and looked back up the staircase where the others should have been. The stairwell was empty.

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Air rushed past Mary’s head, blowing her hair behind her while she slid through a warp tunnel that shot through the solid rock of the keep’s foundation. Just three minutes ago, Petrus had fired his warping gun at the locked door in the side of the stairwell and had vanished through the newly opened hole. The rest had followed him silently, trying not to alert the officer who was some distant down the stairwell. Petrus had closed the warp hole the instant all four of them had passed through. Lighting matches, they had found themselves in a storage room filled with wooden boxes labeled as Munition. A few Mausers were lying in an open wooden box in a pile of packing straw.

Before they had time to take a look at the guns, Petrus had fired a warp tunnel at an oblique angle through the floor. Then, lighting a torch, he had found in a wall sconce, Petrus had dropped it through the newly opened tunnel. Satisfied it had landed safely on a solid floor, Petrus had jumped into the hole and had disappeared into the darkness. Mary was the last to enter, trying to overcome her fear. Now, she slid through the bluish, glassy-smooth tunnel, wondering how she had ever come to embark on such a bizarre adventure. What prompted her to go on such adventures. She enjoyed going to exciting and new places, but what was the point of going to such places if she couldn’t go with the man she loved. Strangely, while she slid through the relative darkness, Mary thought about Sam briefly. Where was he? How was he doing? She missed him. Before fifteen seconds had passed, she flew through the bottom end of the tunnel and landed on the floor. The shock of landing shot up her legs, but she had bent her knees in preparation. Mary got back to her feet, and stood up straight. Yellow torchlight cast wavering shadows from the men. She could see John’s back and a glimpse of Petrus holding the torch. They were in a narrow hallway lined with rusty, iron doors. Water dripped from the stone ceiling, splashing into small puddles here and there on the floor. The place reeked of the smell of death and Mary had to plug her nose. Petrus, standing in the front, turned back toward Mary and walked up to the warp hole. He fired his warping gun at it and the hole shrunk to the size of a needle head, and vanished. “It smells like dead cow,” Ivan said from behind Petrus. “It could be decaying rat carcassas,” John suggested. “Gross,” Mary said, cringing. “I would prefer not to think of such things.” Petrus walked back to the front of the group and led the way through the darkness, still holding onto his prized metal suitcase. As they walked in the light of the torch, Mary heard unusual sounds coming from around her. They were faint, but still audible: the sounds of groaning. Mary tried to push them away as being her own imagination, but they persisted and did not relent. After a minute or two of walking, she said, “What are those sounds? Can you hear them?” “What sounds?” John said. “I hear them,” Ivan said, shuddering. “They are the sounds of the spirits of the dead.” Tonk. Tonk. Tonk. A pounding sound came from one of the doors, almost causing Mary to jump out of her skin. Mary recovered and walked up to the door, followed by Ivan.

“Help me!” a voice cried through the door, slightly muffled. “Someone’s in there!” Mary exclaimed. “We have to help them.” Ivan got up next to the door and said in German, “Back away from the door and I will get you out.” A moment later, Ivan fired his warping gun and a hole appeared in the half-inch-thick iron and in the stone wall on either side of it. Out of the shadows of the cell, a figure dressed in black, ragged clothes passed through the hole. Ivan back away, fear in his eyes. “Don’t harm us, spirit.” The figure stepped into the light and Mary saw that it was a boy, around age twelve. His eyes were ringed with dark circles and he appeared fairly thin. “My mother is in a cell over there,” he said pointing back the direction they had come. “Are you okay?” Mary asked, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I just want to get out of here,” he said with tears in his eyes. “How did that man open that hole?” “We are going to get you out of this horrible place and we have special tools to do it,” Mary said, hugging him. “Boy, where is your mother’s cell?” Ivan said, walking up to them. “I hear a woman’s voice,” John said, pointing toward a cell a dozen yards away. Petrus and John hurried over to the cell, followed by the others. “Please, let me out of her,” a woman cried through the metal door. Petrus opened a warp hole and stepped in. He emerged with a woman in her thirties. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles and her brown hair hung from her head in a tangled mess. She appeared to have not seen the light of day for some time, for her skin was pale. “How did you come to this horrible place?” Mary asked. “The Order of the B-Black Dragon: they k-killed my h-husband, a s-scientist,” the woman stuttered. “One day I f-found his dead b-body in our c-cellar. He was s-shot in the back of the head. That night s-some men came. I woke up in bed. They grabbed me and s-shoved a r-rag over my face. I woke up on a train. This m-man was b-bending over me with a wicked grin on his face.” The woman took a few deep breaths before she continued, more confidently, loosing her stutter: “I’ll never forget his horrid expression. He looked like a rich man with a three piece suit. He had a goatee and mustache. Schlimm was what he called himself. He had this horrible metal rod in his hand and he…he shocked me with it. It felt like electricity was sh-shooting through me. He was so…so wicked. He tor-tortured me in front of my little boy, Dieter.” “Why did he torture you?” Mary asked as gently as she could. “Schlimm gains pleasure from it,” she said, shaking. “We’re taking you out of here,” Ivan said. “If I ever see that devil, I’m going

make him wish he hadn’t ever been born.” The woman nodded, wiping away a tear. “Can you walk?” Mary said. “Yes,” the woman replied. “I walk around my cell all day to stay somewhat in shape. Do you have a bit of food?” “I’m so sorry, but we don’t,” Mary said. “We’ll get her food,” Ivan said firmly. “Petrus, you take the others back through portal without giants seeing you. I will get lady food.” “How will you get her food?” John asked. “Every castle has kitchen,” Ivan said, grinning. “Ivan, the super soldiers are searching for us. How will you get through to the kitchen?” Petrus said. “With this,” Ivan said, slapping the warping gun. “Ivan, shouldn’t someone go with you?” John said. But, Ivan didn’t listen. He snatched a torch from a wall sconce and lit it with a match. With his new light source, the big Russian ran toward a stairwell with an open door and vanished through it. As they watched him go, Mary heard footsteps running down the hallway some distance behind them. She turned around to see the black uniformed officer followed by eight super soldiers. “We’re in trouble,” John shouted.

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Ivan ran up the stairs, carrying his warping gun tightly in his hands. He was in good shape, having had to work for long, hard hours. His feet hit every step with precision, propelling him ever higher. He almost slipped a couple times as he ran, but the Russian locomotive mechanic corrected himself. His legs began to ache and his breathing came harder, but he kept it up, knowing that every minute counted. Footsteps scuffing on stone came from some distance above him, up the spiral stairs. He had to act fast.

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A hole opened up in the hall floor and a black tunnel loomed below like a giant throat. “What did you do? What is that?” the little boy asked. “It’s a warp tunnel. Get in,” Petrus said. The black uniformed ANUBIS officer pulled out a pistol while he ran, and

shouted, “Drop your weapons!” Behind him, the super soldiers raised their guns. Mary fired off three shots from the M1870 Gasser revolver she had found in the locomotive. John jumped through the hole followed by the woman and her son. “Get in,” Petrus ordered Mary. She fired off one last shot before diving into the hole. Petrus followed her, clutching the warping gun an his metal suitcase. Once more, air rushed past her face as she slid down an oblique warp tunnel. “Ooph,” Mary said as she landed somewhat hard. She got out of the way just before Petrus landed where she had been standing. The instant Petrus landed, he turned and fired the warping gun. As he fired, the uniformed officer came into view at the edge of the hole a floor above. The officer’s finger squeezed the trigger of his revolver a split second after the warp tunnel had closed shut. Had Petrus fired the warp tunnel closed too late, he’d be a dead man. A match flared to life. John’s face appeared in the glow. “There’s no need for that,” Petrus said before clicking open a metal box on the warping gun and pressing a button. A bluish light at the front end of the warping gun turned on, illuminating a rocky corridor before them. “Where are we?” the woman prisoner asked. “I don’t know exactly,” Petrus said. “I’ve never been here before.” “I forgot to introduce myself,” Mary said. “I am Mary Kirsch. This is Prospereau Petrus Schnörkelheim. And, this is John Wallis.” The woman smiled weakly, nodding at them in turn. “I am Sophia and my son is Simon,” Sophia said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Petrus said, smiling. “Folks, we need to get back to the ground level,” John said with urgency. “Ivan doesn’t know where we are, and the super soldiers we just encountered are sure to look for a stairway that will lead down here.”

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Ivan saw a door in the side of the stairwell. He pulled the trigger and ran toward the opening tunnel. Once he arrived at the other side of the locked door, he closed the warp tunnel. Pressing his ear to the metal surface, he listened. Voice came from the stairwell outside a moment later. “Hurry, you dogs,” an officer shouted. “We almost have them.” Footsteps pounded down the stone steps and eventually faded from Ivan’s

hearing. Ivan lit a match and took in his surroundings. To his surprise, he saw a metal framework going from floor to ceiling. Four metal beams surrounded a square hole in the floor. A sliding, metal door in the side of the metal framework drew his interest. Beside it rested a small metal column very similar to the engine order telegraph controls John had used to lower the elevator platform in the mountain base they had come from. Unlike that control column, this had negative and positive numbers in a series starting at -5 and ended at +3. The zero was absent. Ivan shoved the lever into the positive range, aiming for the +1 position, but he hit +2 instead. The lever sprang back and a whirring sound came from the bottom of the elevator shaft. Before long, an elevator made of a metal cage attached to a platform arrived. Ivan noticed a red button built into a box inside the cage. The word starten appeared etched into its surface. Boarding the elevator, Ivan shut the metal door and pressed the red button. With a little jolt, the cage began rapidly ascending through the elevator shaft.

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A weak yellow light emanating from a translucent square in the side of the wall revealed an elevator shaft made of metal bars. A control column stood nearby. The small group had traveled just a short distance before they had come across the elevator. Petrus set down his metal suitcase and sighed. “This is where I think I will leave this.” “Why did you bring it with you if you are just going to leave it?” Mary asked. “This suitcase does not only serve as a carrying case for the atomic warping device. Being quite versatile, it also serves a much more important function. It contains a target beacon.” “Target beacon?” Simon said. “What’s a target beacon?” “I’ll explain later, if I remember,” Petrus said. He unclasped the suitcase and reached inside. Mary approached him and leaned over to see what he was doing. She watched as Petrus flipped open a little compartment in the interior of the case. It contained three rotating discs that looked like a disc combination lock. Petrus quickly twisted the discs, which contained twelve numbers each. The first disc was set to 0, while the other two were set to 3, so that the final result was 033. That’s interesting. Where have I seen that number before? Mary thought. Petrus twisted a dial thirty-or-so degrees clockwise and shut the metal case.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the scientist tossed it through the metal door and it vaninished into the dark elevator shaft. “We’ve got to hurry,” he said as he shoved the lever on the control column to the +1 position.

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He shoved the metal door open and bolted from the metal elevator cage. Ivan aimed at the stone wall in the dark room and fired, opening up a tunnel that took him into an adjoining room. Light shone through the tunnel opening, giving him a bit of hope. The Russian walked through and stopped at the end of the tunnel. Peering around the corner, Ivan took in the room. Tall bookshelves burdened with huge volumes filled the space, arranged in rows like shelves in a library. Several chandeliers filled the room with a calming yellow light. Unlike private libaries or public libaries, there were no paintings and no decorations of any kind. Ivan cautiously entered the library, closing his warp tunnel. He needed to find the kitchen and snatch a few scaps of food for the poor woman. As he quietly walked, Ivan heard a door open at the back of the room, hidden from view by bookshelves. As it did, a feeling of deep unease and a sense of spiritual darkness came upon Ivan like a black cloak descending. The sense was so strong that Ivan knew in his spirit that something very evil had just entered the room. “Those devils will pay for their insolence,” a man said in a low tone. “I should have known I could not trust Schnörkelheim. His loyalty to the cause was somewhat doubtful from the beginning.” Ivan tiptoed along a bookshelf, heading toward a wall. Whoever this man was, it was obvious he had power. Ivan could smell it in his voice. “Lucifer will be most displeased, when he learnes of this breach of security,” the man muttered gruffly. Ivan had crept around several bookshelves until the speaker had come into view. The man’s back was facing Ivan. A bald head poked out of a black three piece suit jacket. The man was scanning across the books on the shelf, looking for a particular volume. He selected a book from an Encyclopædia Britannica set and shoved a few envelopes into it. Then, he quickly replaced the volume. “What do you want?” he said suddenly, still facing away from Ivan. He couldn’t be addressing me, could he? Ivan wondered. I was being very quiet. “Ivan Bolotnikov,” the man said, “that is your name, is it not?” Ivan froze. His heart chilled within his chest. How did this man know his

name? The man hadn’t even turned around yet. “I am the Red Horseman, and you are trespassing,” the man said, still with his back turned. “You will give me possession of your gun.” A thought entered Ivan’s mind to surrender and lay down his gun. He shook his head, resisting it, but the thought was growing into a strong compulsion. It was almost like an addiction that Ivan could not shake. How could this be? Ivan began to tremble in his boots. He was resisting the urge to give into this compulsion. “Lay down your arms, and I will guarantee your freedom and your safe return to your native country,” the man said. The desire to believe his obvious lie was so strong that Ivan started to lower his gun. Part of him knew it was a lie while the other part believed it. Slowly, the bald man turned to face Ivan and the Russian took a few steps back. His entire face and head were bald. Not a single wisker or eyelash grew from his skin. His eyebrows were missing and his eyes were piercing like pointy diamonds. He appeared to be in his forties or late thirties. “Do you know who I am?” the bald man asked. “No,” Ivan said, shaking his head. “I am the grand master of the Order of the Black Dragon, supreme commander of the forces of ANUBIS.” “Why are you telling me this?” Ivan said. “Because, you will surrender to me,” the grand master said. “Or, you will die. The choice is up to you.” The urge to surrender to the grand master was stronger than before, and Ivan’s knees shook. He felt as if his strength and his will to resist the temptation were leaving him. Slowly, Ivan began to lower the warping gun to the floor and he closed his eyes. He so desperately wanted to get back to his family in Russia. He must surrender.

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Chapter 16

The moment the elevator reached the first floor, Petrus flung open the door. Mary, John, Sophia, and Simon followed him trying to keep up with his brisk pace. They reached a metal door and Petrus tried the handle. It was locked. No problem. He fired another warp hole and they slipped through the door as if it didn’t exist. Electric light from chandeliers in the high vaulted ceiling splashed a dazzling pattern over the flagstone paving the hallway. A few tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes from medieval battles and lines of archaic poetry. Far down the hallway Mary caught sight of a couple super soldiers walking, with their backs turned. Petrus opened a warp hole in the opposite wall and ushered them through. “Mom, those are really tall men,” Simon said, pointing. “Shh,” Sophia said, placing a finger to her lips. But, the sound had reached the giant’s ears and they turned to face the little boy and his mother who had not yet slipped through the hole. “Stop!” a giant bellowed. Sophia took her son’s hand and both vanished through the hole. The giants pounded down the flagstone at their top speed and reached a door in the wall a couple moments later. They tried the handle, but it didn’t budge, so one aimed his gun at the lock and fired. The second brute kicked the door open as if it were made of light paper. A warp hole appeared in the wall at the opposite end of the empty stone room. The giants caught a glimpse of a woman vanishing around the corner through the hole. They charged, running at top speed. Mary reached for Sophia’s hand and grabbed it tightly, and with Simon in tow they hurried after John and Petrus, running between shelves laden with pots, pans, and cooking implements. A shelf to her left suddenly splintered to pieces and pots and pans went flying. Rat. Tat. Tat. A burst of rapid gunfire erupted from the direction of the warp hole. The super soldiers had come through. Sophia let out a brief scream, but forced herself to be quiet, knowing it would only draw unwanted attention. “Mommy, they’re going to kill us!” Simon cried. Mary clenched her teeth, and fought to remain calm while she ran between the shelves, still clutching onto Sophia’s hand. Metal exploded into lethal fragments a few shelves down as high-velocity bullets struck pans hanging on hooks. Mary winced instinctively.

“Over here,” John said, motioning with his hand from around a corner. Mary, Sophia, and Simon hurried over to him. A warp hole was open and Petrus was on the other side, gesturing for them to hurry. The two woman and Simon dashed through the hole just before a spray of bullets tore into the wall, splintering metal shelves and cooking ladels into fragments. Once they reached the other side, Petrus closed the hole. He did so just as a super soldier came into view at the other end. Mary felt her heart pounding faster than she thought possible. Her hands were sweaty and she had to wipe them on her gray uniform dress. They were in a hallway and Mary felt very vulnerable. She could see more super soldiers further down the hallway, opening door after door, searching for something or someone. There were at least twenty. Before long, someone would notice them. A hand grabbed hers and dragged her forward. It was John. “Hurry,” he said, standing in a warp tunnel. Mary looked through to the other side and saw to her joy that the room beyond had windows looking into the outside. Petrus closed the tunnel just as Simon passed through. They were in a nice sitting room filled with bookshelves, sofas, and a fireplace. Resting before the fireplace was a red highback chair. Orange flames licked at a few logs lying within. One door opened onto the hallway, but it was shut tight. Apparently, the room was empty. So, where do we go from here? Mary wondered. We have to find Ivan. “So nice of you to drop in,” a voice said from the direction of the fireplace.

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The warping gun was on the floor. Ivan had let it drop, but he remained bent over. A powerful feeling flooded his soul, compelling him to bow down before the grand master and worship him. He resisted with all his strength, clamping his teeth together. He could not understand why he had such an urge. “Ivan,” he said with a calm and monotonous voice, “I saw you through my crystal ball when you first arrived at my castle, The Castle of Odin. You can with the intention of aiding my enemy. Now, you have chosen to be my servant.” “I have chosen to be your servant,” Ivan echoed. As the words came out of his mouth, Ivan squinted and cringed. How could he say such a thing? It was as if someone else were controlling his voice box.

“No, I will not be your servant,” Ivan said, angrily. “You want to be my servant,” the grand master said hypnotically. The urge obey was stronger than a desire to fight back. “I want to be your servant,” Ivan said, with less resistance. “You will take your warping gun and find your friends,” the grand master said. Ivan echoed his order, replacing you with I. The grand master gave him one final order and Ivan echoed it, again replacing you with I. “Now, go,” the grand master said before turning around and leaving. Ivan collected his warping gun and walked the opposite direction, toward a wall. He opened a warp tunnel and passed through.

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Mary felt her hair stand on end as goosebumps formed. The voice had come from the red chair. She aimed her pistol at the chair. Before she could fire, the chair spun around and a bald man in a black three piece suit faced her. Not a scrap of hair was to be seen on his face or head and a thin smile spread across his narrow lips. An evil presence exuded from the chair like odor from a corpse. Mary and the others starting backing up. Everyone was silent, trembling in their shoes. This had really caught them off guard. “Welcome to my humble abode,” the bald man said smirking. “What do you think of the Castle of Odin? Would you like to take a tour of the dungeon? Perhaps, you’d like to visit the torture chambers? We can certainly make arrangements for you to have a prolonged stay.” Mary notice Sophia and Simon trembling. The bald man stood up and placed a cigar into one corner of his mouth while he pulled a match box from another pocket. “But, first of all,” he said while lighting the cigar, “I will tell you right now that your intention of destroying this castle is as foolish as an ant attempting to kill an elephant. Prospereau, you have never ceased to amuse me with your pathetic attempts at sabotage.” The scientist looked shocked. “I knew about your plan to wipe out this castle before you met your friends,” the bald man said. “How did you know that?” Petrus said. “I have my methods,” the bald man said. “You’re part of the Order, aren’t you?” John said.

“I’m the grand master of the Order of the Black Dragon, but you may call me the Red Horseman. For, soon, I will unleash a war unlike any other and it shall cover this planet. Once it does, the armies of ANUBIS shall rise and subdue the whole earth and I will set up an eternal dictatorship under me. Look on me and fear, you worms, for I am the Beast. Give your allegiance to me and you will never go hungry.” He must be possessed by some kind of demon, Mary thought. What kind of man would say such things? He must be the Anti-Christ that the Bible talks about or someone who thinks he is. “You’re unarmed, aren’t you?” Mary said suddenly, pointing the gun at him. The grand master merely smiled and snapped his fingers once. A door flung open and Ivan entered, holding a warping gun in one hand and a metal suitcase in the other. “Ivan,” John said, concerned. The grand master snapped his fingers again and Ivan set the suitcase on the rug. Once he did that, he pulled a pistol from his belt and aimed it at Petrus. “I have persuaded your friend to join me,” the grand master said with a mile laugh. “He has succumbed to my powers of persuasion as easily as a child to candy.” With a firm tone, the bald man said, “Drop your weapons or die.” Reluctantly, Mary, Petrus, and John pulled out the pistols they had collected and set them on the floor, including the warping gun. How could Ivan betray us? Mary thought, feeling the beginning of hatred forming in her mind. She grimaced and remembered that God wanted her to forgive. The door opened and four super soldiers entered, carrying rope with them. They saluted the grand master before saying in unison, “Our Master, what is your will?” The grand master merely pointed and snapped his fingers. The guards understood his meaning and began tying up the prisoners while Ivan stared blankly ahead as if he were looking off into space. Mary noticed that the soldiers were placing strange metal bracelets around their ankles and activating them by the flick of a switch. Once Mary and the rest were tied up, the grand master motioned for the super soldiers to leave and the blonde giants saluted before ducking through the door. “I will now leave you to enjoy the view while I make some arrangements,” the grand master said as he walked toward the door. “In a few hours from now, I will destroy Prussia’s will to resist me. With the fall of the largest military power in Europe, my plan for world conquest will be as easy as elementary mathematics.” Before the grand master reached the door, he turned to Ivan and snapped his

fingers. The Russian walked up to him, carrying the metal suitcase, and handed it to him. “Thank you, Ivan,” the bald man said. “This homing becon is no longer necessary.” He unclasped it and began pressing a few key points inside the case, hidden from view. Then, before their eyes, the grand master quickly disassembled the case into nuts, bolts, screws, and wires. Within a minute, the parts were scattered across the red carpet. How he did it was beyond Mary’s understanding. She didn’t see him using any tools. With that, the door slammed and the room was quiet. Mary thought about walking toward the door, but when she tried to move her feet, she found that she couldn’t. Her leg muscles couldn’t move either. It was as if they were paralyzed. “Ivan, help us,” John said, struggling to move. The Russian remained staring off into space, not seeming to notice them. “He must be hypnotized,” Mary said.

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A minute had passed since Sam had arrived at the small clearing in the forest on the palace grounds. One minute of searching. One minute of bewilderment. He was shoving his way through the bushes, snapping off branches with a heavy stick when a faint bluish light flashed through the bushes, coming from the clearing behind him. He had only got twenty feet through the bushes when he noticed the light. Sam held his breath and tried to see through the tangled, twisted twigs and branches. Voices came from the clearing. He had seen no one and heard no one since he lost track of the butler. How could they slip through the forest without making a sound? Sam reached under his belt and pulled out one of the Reichsrevolvers belonging to Wolfgang Schmidt, the crime boss, and decided to do some investigating.

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Mary had been standing for nearly ten hours since they had first entered the room. She had been conducting a staring contest with a stuffed lion head mounted above the fireplace. From time to time, she had strained her neck to glance at a grandfather clock that was nestled in a far corner of the room. The time had passed agonizingly slow. She had not eaten anything since leaving

Wurzel Anlage very early in the morning. Every so often, a super soldier would select them, one at a time, to have a bathroom break. That had been the only time Mary was able to walk. By some inexplicable means, the super soldier had a control that could remotely cause the rings on Mary’s ankles to lock together. Some kind of electromagnetic field, from the rings, caused her legs and back to remain stiff and rigid so that she could not sit down. Mary had wanted to communicate with the others, but the same kind of bizarre electromagnetic field kept her from being able to move her mouth, her hands, or her feet. She could breath through her nose and her heart still beat, thankfully. Through a window, stars in the night sky began to appear, shimmering in convection currents. How Mary longed to escape and run into the night and be with Sam. She missed him much more now than ever before. His twinkling eyes. His wavy, brown hair. His personality. A door opened and six super soldiers entered, ducking so that their spiked helmets did not cut through the door frame. Following them, the hairless, self-proclaimed grand master stepped into the room. He was now dressed in a black uniform, black jackboots, and a black peaked hat with a visor brim. The symbol of the Black Flame--three flames in a triangular formation--appeared on his shoulders and hat. The grand master smiled wickedly as he said, “We have made the preparations for a special sacrifice to Lucifer, the Queen of Heaven, and Baal. When we finish the sacrifice, our men in Enigma Mountain shall activate Thor’s Hammer and Berlin will be transformed into pile of dust. But, you will not live to see it, for we shall use your blood to paint our pavement.” He nodded toward Ivan and snapped his fingers. Ivan faced the grand master. “Ivan, we don’t need your services here any longer,” he said with a wink. “You will join the victims in the sacrifice.” “Yes, my master,” Ivan said without batting an eye. The grand master turned to one of his men, with a smirk. “I think I’ll have the stupid Russian kill his friends. He won’t know what he’s doing since he’s still under my hypnotic spell.” The soldiers chuckled. In that moment, something in Ivan came on. It was as if he was a gear being engaged. The hypnosis had fallen like a black veil and Ivan went into action. Mary nearly shrieked with delight. He had been allowed to keep his warping gun and Ivan intended to use it. As the grand master turned around, Ivan fired three rapid shots toward the floor. Warp tunnels opened below the feet of three of the soldiers and they plunged down into the floor, surprise written over their faces. The three remaining super soldiers took aim at Ivan, but he had fired off three

more shots by the time they were about to pull their triggers and all three fell into the ground, vanishing from sight. Six warp tunnels punctured the floor now, leaving little room for the grand master to move. But, the man was swift and agile. He ran toward the prisoners, seeking to use them as a human barrier, while he pulled out a small dagger. Ivan knew what he was going to do and he ran toward the man as fast as he could, adrenaline flowing through his veins. Ivan slammed the gun into the man’s hand, knocking the dagger into the air. He threw the gun down and shot his fist toward the grand master’s chin, but the man knocked it aside and lashed out with a brutal kick to Ivan’s chest. Ivan backed up, breathing deeply. The grand master ran toward him with murder in his eyes. He pulled a small knife from a shieth and jabbed it toward Ivan’s chest, shouting, “Taste some of this poison, you dog!” Mary screamed. Ivan’s reflexes seemed to be slower than the grand master’s. She was sure the knife would jab Ivan’s skin. If the knife was poisoned, just a tiny cut would be enough to kill the Russian. The grand master jabbed the knife toward Ivan and, at the last moment, Ivan kicked, striking the grand master just below the knee. With his arm, he struck the knife hand, knocking the poisoned blade into the air. As his boot struck the grand master, the bald man fell crashing to the ground. Ivan darted toward the warp gun, picked it up, and… “Look out!” Sophia shouted. Ivan caught a glimpse of the grand master pulling out a derringer from an internal pocket. Blam. A gunshot rang through the room, causing Mary to cringe, closing her eyes. When she opened her eyes she saw Ivan with his knees on the floor, clutching his left shoulder. The place where the grand master had been was occupied by a six-foot-wide tunnel entrance dropping down into the earth. Ivan winced as he aimed his warping gun and closed up the hole, returning the floor to its original state. The grand master was now deep inside the earth, inclosed in rock and soil. His grave had been made and sealed up. He was not coming out alive. “Ivan,” John said, “you have returned.” “I’m speechless,” Petrus said. “All I can say is job well done.” Simon was crying, wishing he could move his arms. “Is your shoulder okay?” Mary asked. “I got grazed by a tiny bullet. Just a little blood. That’s all.” “Can you unlock us?” Mary said. “I can try,” Ivan said, bending down to her ankles.

He fiddled with the metal rings until he found a small tap and pressed it. Instantly, Mary’s legs lost their stiffness and she collapsed to the floor. Ivan pressed another tab on each ring and pulled them from her ankles. Then, he proceeded to do the same to each of the others. “Ivan, did you give that devil the metal suitcase I had been carrying?” Petrus asked as Ivan undid his bindings. “I picked up the metal suitcase which we had left on the other side of the castle wall. Why do you ask?” Petrus sighed with relief. “That’s wonderful. He didn’t suspect we had brought two suitcases. I had dropped my suitcase down into--eh, never mind.” Once all were free, Petrus retrieved his warp gun, which was still lying on the floor. And, without a word, he opened a warp tunnel in the wall.

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Before anyone stepped through the warp tunnel, Ivan held up a hand. “Wait, before we leave, I must fetch something. I’ll be at library,” he said before dashing off toward the door. The Russian vanished through a warp hole. “Should we wait for him?” Mary said. “Not here,” Petrus said, closing the warp tunnel he’d opened. He opened a second hole in the wall bordering an adjoining room. The room beyond was a large closet lined with shelves, brooms, and cleaning supplies. The five stood as still as they could, waiting for Ivan’s return.

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“Rats!” Ivan exclaimed under his breath a second before opening a warp tunnel in the hallway wall. Inside a sitting room, he waited for ten super soldiers to walk down the hall past his former position. He had just barely avoided being spotted. If he had, he would most likely not live to tell. The guards were on high alert and their guns were out and ready for use. Why should I have to use the hallway? Ivan thought. I have a warping gun. Throwing some of his caution to the wind, Ivan began opening a row of warp tunnels without bothering to close them behind him. He was in a rush to return to the library where he had first met the grand master and time was of the essence. Any moment now, and his friends could be spotted.

Rushing through a series of rooms, including private quarters for servants, bathrooms, laundry rooms, storage rooms, lounges, and guest rooms, Ivan ran faster than he had in a while. He didn’t care if he was spotted by the occasional butler or servant. They were shocked to see holes appearing and even more shocked to see a man rushing through them. Before long, Ivan reached the private library. He closed the warp hole behind him and tried to catch his breath. Before he could regain his strength, two strong hands grabbed him and picked him up as if he were a child. A super soldier threw him to the floor, and Ivan landed, remembering to roll. Rolling, he sprang up to his feet again having a few bruises an scrapes. “You will die, you little rat,” the giant shouted as he charged toward the Russian like a bull. Ivan had lost hold of his warp gun, but he still had his pistol tucked into his belt. He drew it and fired, but the bullet ricocheted off the giant’s iron breastplate. He fired again, striking the giant in the leg, but the super soldier merely clenched his teeth and ignored the pain as if the bullet wound were a bee sting. Ivan ran. He ran toward the giant, not away. Adrenaline raced in his veins. Some might call him brave and some might call him foolish, but Ivan knew that this was the only thing he could do. The giant reached down to grab Ivan, but at the last moment, Ivan curled up and rolled, passing under the giant’s hands. He sprang to his feet behind the giant and ran toward the warp gun. The giant turned and anger reddened his face. He pulled a knife from a shieth on his belt and grabbed it by the tip of the blade. He was going to throw it and his aim would certainly be dead on. Before he could, Ivan fired the warping gun, but he missed. The hole opened up a foot from the giant’s boots. The super soldier, momentarily distracted, did not see Ivan aiming at his feet until it was too late. The knife fell to the floor at the edge of a newly opened hole while its owner fell down the chute, roaring in anger and surprise. Ivan closed up the holes and leaned against the wall, relieved. The grand master must have installed a guard to watch for him in case he had attempted to return to the library. His heart pounded. Blood throbbed through his veins. Ivan, you almost died. You have to be more careful next time, Ivan thought, tapping himself on the head. He approached the shelf where the Encyclopædia Britannica set had been located and began trying to spot the volume the grand master had taken from the shelf. He didn’t remember what letter it had been and there were too many

volumes to search through in the short time he had. Why German-speaking officers would be interested in an English encyclopedia was strange to Ivan and he thought about that while he began pulling volume after volume out of the shelf and dropping them onto the floor. He was yanking out the fifteenth through twenty-ninth volumes, remembering roughly the position where the grand master had stowed the volume with the envelopes. Frantic, Ivan flipped through the pages, hoping to find the envelopes soon. As he did, a door squeaked open.

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“We’re going to have to leave very soon. Any moment now and someone will open the closet door,” Petrus said, his voice tense. “Please wait a little longer,” Mary pleaded. “I’m sure Ivan knows what he is doing and will be back shortly.” “Let’s hope--” before Petrus could finish, a clicking sound came from outside. A key had entered the keyhole in the closet door.

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Chapter 17

“What is that sound?” a voice said gruffly. Boots clicked on the stone floor and Ivan tensed. He had to find the envelopes quickly, but he didn’t want to get caught either. A man in a black uniform stepped around the shelves, followed by four black-clad soldiers with full-face helmets concealing their identities. The soldiers were covered in black armor and carried black boxy-shaped guns. When they reached the pile of encyclopedias on the floor, the officer went bezerk. “What in the name of Lucifer is this?” he shouted. “Our security has been breached. Thanks to the idiots guarding this castle, we have a break-in.” Ivan, having closed up a warp tunnel just seconds after the officer entered, had walked over to a door that gave him a peep hole into the library. He peered through the key hole at a bald-headed man with a goatee and an upturned handlebar mustache. The officer bent down and picked up one of the fallen volumes. He flipped through the pages briefly before setting it back on the shelf. “I want all these replaced,” he said to his guards. Ivan squinted at the book on the shelf and noticed now that it was the twenty-second volume. In a few moments, the guards had replaced all the other volumes in their numerical order. Once they were done, the officer and his guards walked over to the door Ivan was peeking through. Before he opened it, Ivan rushed through a warp hole back into the library. He darted behind a shelf, hoping none of the guards would have spotted him and closed up the warp hole with his gun. Once they were all through the door, Ivan waited a few minutes and then walked back to the bookshelf. He selected the twenty-second volume and flipped through it. Three thick envelopes fell out of the pages. Bingo. Ivan flipped one open and read the German title: Memorandum to All Generals Under Oath. He scanned through the print and noted the signature: Grand Master of the Order of the Black Dragon, Soranus. So, the grand master’s name was Soranus, Ivan thought. But, he is only going by a first name or a code name. Ivan stuffed the sheet back in its envelope and jammed the envelopes into his

pockets. “Drop your gun and raise your hands,” a voice said, shattering Ivan’s thoughts.

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The door opened in the closet and a maid appeared. She was about to scream, but John placed his hand around her mouth and pulled her into the closet, shutting the door behind him. “Please, don’t scream,” Mary said. “There is nothing to fear. We won’t do you any harm.” “Unless, you try to tattle on us,” Petrus said. “We’ll have to tie you up if you do.” The maid relaxed a little, but fear still showed on her face. “Please, don’t kill me. I am a slave. I was kidnapped and taken here about five years ago. If you are with the authorities, don’t arrest me. I don’t want to be here, but I have to.” “It’s alright,” Mary said. “They rescued us, my little boy and me,” Sophia said, patting her son’s head. “You rescued her?” the maid asked. “Yes,” Mary said. “We will also help you escape if you cooperate with us.” The maid nodded. “I’ll do what I can. How can I help you?” “Do you know where the library is?” Mary asked. “Certainly,” the maid said. “Why do you ask?” Mary pulled out her revolver and spun the cyclinder. “Can you show me where it is?”

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Ivan felt butterflies in his stomache. The voice sounded like the goateed officer’s. How could he had returned so quickly? Reluctantly, Ivan set the warp gun down. “Your pistol, drop it.” Ivan set it on the ground and raised his hands. “Turn around,” the officer ordered. Ivan did and faced his foe. “Do you know who I am?” Ivan remained silent. “I am Count Max von Oberst and I am your worst nightmare,” he said with an evil grin.

He stepped up to within two yards from Ivan and said in a low voice, “You don’t know who you are dealing with, do you?” Ivan just stared at him, scowling. “You might believe at this moment that you have actually killed the grand master, correct?” Count Oberst said, raising an eyebrow. “Foolish Russian, you know nothing. The power that resides in Soranus is greater than your wildest imagination.” “What do you mean?” Ivan said, curious. The door opened behind Count Oberst and the bald grand master entered, walking without the slightest limp. There was no sign that he had ever fallen into the warp tunnel Ivan had opened beneath his feet, but Ivan clearly remembered seeing him drop into the black tunnel. How could this be? “You are surprised?” Soranus said, gleefully. “I cannot die easily, Mr. Bolotnikov.” “H-how, did you do that?” Ivan stammered. “I am immortal,” the grand master said. “Now, that you have seen my power, my secret documents, and my headquarters, I shall show you the spiritual nature of the other side.” Soranus pulled a pistol from his belt and aimed it between Ivan’s eyes. “You will be able to tour the depths of Hades, Mr. Bolotnikov.” Ivan watched the finger slowly move toward the trigger and he closed his eyes, clenching his teeth. His life flashed before his eyes and Ivan Bolotnikov realized that he didn’t know Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. He had learned about Jesus Christ at church, but he never sought to have a relationship with Him. Now, Ivan did, but it appeared to be too late. Blam. A shot fired, echoing loudly through the stone room, and Ivan tensed.

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Ivan opened his eyes and still saw the library before him with the two evil men, but something had changed. The pistol in Soranus’s hand was missing and the door they had passed through was open. “Drop your guns and raise your hands,” a woman said firmly from within the open door. Cursing, Count Oberst pulled out two pistols and set them on the floor. Both he and Soranus raised their hands. From the door behind the evil men a woman stepped into view. It was Mary. Behind her, trembling, a maid followed. Ivan could not fully express his joy at seeing her. She had saved his life. He had been within a second from dying. Ivan believe in Heaven and Hell and God

and Satan. He knew they were real but he always thought he had plenty of time to get right with God before he died. After all, he was just a couple years past forty. Now, Ivan knew that waiting was dangerous. “Ivan, can you tie these goons up?” Mary said. “With pleasure,” Ivan said, walking cautiously forward. Mary kicked their guns out of reach and kept her revolver trained on the villains. Ivan used fabric from their black uniforms to lash their hands and feet together. Once they were secured, Ivan hit them both over the head, knocking them unconscious. He searched through both of their pockets and found a few odds and ends such as lint, small lucky charms, pocket knives, and throwing knives. On Soranus he found a strange, boxy pistol which had the same styling as the warp gun. Curious, he flipped a tap open on the pistol and saw the familiar red button. Pressing it he fired a warp tunnel through the wall. That was how Soranus survived the collapsing warp tunnel, Ivan thought. While the grand master fell, he had fired a second warp tunnel which took him back to the dungeon under the keep. When Ivan had closed up his warp tunnel, he had not closed up Soranus’s secondary tunnel. It was a simple matter for Soranus to find an elevator and return to the first floor. Collecting his gun, Ivan stood directly above the two masterminds behind the Black Flame and ANUBIS. They had sought to bring death and destruction on millions of innocent lives. Ivan pointed Soranus’s warping pistol to the floor and fired it, creating a large hole. Both men tumbled through the air, falling headlong down the vertical shaft into darkness. Ivan bent down over the edge of the shaft and listened. Before two seconds had passed, Ivan heard a sickening thud echoing up the warp tunnel. That was the end of Count Max von Oberst and Soranus the grand master of the Order of the Black Dragon. Both men had fallen more than five stories and had broken their necks on the solid stone in the dungeon below. “Come on,” Mary said. “We have to hurry.”

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“We found Ivan,” Mary said excitedly as she, Ivan, and the maid entered the closet. “Good work,” Petrus said, smiling. “The grand master, the man who brainwashed me and imprisoned you, is dead.”

“And so is Count Oberst,” Mary said. “You’re sure they’re dead?” John asked. “Positively,” Ivan said. “They fell through vertical shaft to bottom and broke their necks.” “That wicked count is finally history,” John said. “You are a brave man.” “I couldn’t have done it without Mary,” Ivan said, smiling at her. “She saved my life.” Turning to Mary, he said. “I thought I heard that you were a Christian.” “I am,” Mary said. “Why?” “I want to know Jesus Christ as my Savior and Lord.” Mary gasped. “That’s wonderful, Ivan. I will certainly be happy to help you.”

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Bushes brushed past Sam’s face as he squeezed into them and peeked through an opening in the foliage, gazing into the clearing with the statue. Its shadow fell on the grass, eerie and ominous. In the moonlight, more shadows rested against the green blades. Voices spoke in clear, but subdued tones, coming from the butler and a black-uniformed officer. Four super soldiers were standing around keeping an eye out for anyone who might be eavesdropping. Their strange spiked helmets gleamed with moonlight as they turned their blonde heads about. “Sir,” the butler said, “it will be nearly impossible to return to the sitting room. I believe I may have raised some suspicions.” “You fool,” the officer said, slapping the man across the face, “you should have been more careful. If even one of Kaiser Wilhelm’s men suspects that your loyalties are elsewhere, we will be forced to kill you. Understood?” The butler nodded toward the officer, whose back was turned toward Sam. “Good,” the officer said. “Now, get out of my sight and get the mission accomplished. I have to return to the control room. We are going back to the castle.” Slightly dejected, the butler walked back along the path through the trees and vanished from sight. The officer turned and Sam saw his face for the first time since he had stepped through the portal. It was the same officer who had got in the Falke to pursue Sam and Andrew. The man who Kurt said was named Colonel Anton Klaue was standing within easy firing range. Sam had his pistol ready, but he didn’t feel like pulling the trigger. Besides, the super soldiers would find him if he fired a shot. Colonel Klaue stepped back through the portal and his goons followed. Once

they were gone, Sam rushed up to the portal and gazed into a room hundreds of miles away. He could see the back of the last super soldier walking down a ramp away from the other side of the portal. On the floor, at the base of the tiered platform, a scientist in a white lab coat was busy typing data into a bizarre machine that ran against the solid rock wall. Each time his finger touched the surface of the long machine, blue light glowed around his fingertip. Sam took a deep breath and stepped through the portal and instantly traversed hundreds of miles. He was now standing on the raised, tiered platform. Sam hurried quietly to the side opposite the scientist and the soldiers. A low humming sound filled the air, similar to the sound of electricity moving through wires. The room was Spartan and harshly lit. Very function, Sam thought. What purpose did it serve? What is that bizarre light circle I passed through? He noticed the wires snaking up into the three metal columns at the top of the dais, and shook his head. How could those have brought him from the palace grounds to here? “Prepare to fire Thor’s Hammer,” Colonel Klaue said from the other side of the tiered platform, hidden from Sam’s view. “Yes, sir,” the scientist said. Sam walked around the dais until he caught a glimpse of the long computer. He saw the scientist typing away. “Open a portal to the Castle now,” Colonel Klaue ordered a minute later. “Sir, don’t you want to observe the activation?” the scientist asked. “Yes, of course. But, I want to visit with the grand master first,” he said, walking up to the ramp leading up to the portal. “Yes, sir.” “Guards,” Colonel Klaue said, snapping his fingers. The four giants obediently followed their master into the portal, vanishing from sight. When they were gone, Sam waited for a minute before slowly, cautiously approaching the scientist from behind. His footfalls alerted the scientist when Sam was a dozen yards away and he spun around. “What is the meaning of this?” the scientist said, adjusting his wireframe glasses. Sam pointed his Reichsrevolver and said, “Do you have any rope?” “What?” the man said, giving Sam a look. “I need a rope.” “I have some in my pocket. Let me guess, you want to commandeer this equipment.” “No,” Sam said. “I want you to. But, first I need to tie you up.” Once Sam had firmly tied the scientist’s wrists behind his back, he nudged

him and pointed to the portal. “Come with me,” Sam said, taking him by the arm. “I’m curious about this castle Colonel Klaue spoke of.” “How do you know his name? Who are you?” “Never mind. Come.” Reluctantly, the scientist obeyed and both ascended the ramp and passed through the portal. Once they were through, Sam looked back. Klaue called the thing a portal. But, what was it? He could see that the room through the portal was vacant of any soul. Time was of the essence and he must not waste it. Sam had a strong compulsion to find Colonel Klaue and soon. Klaue had mentioned something about meeting with the “grand master”. Is this grand master the leader of the Order? Is he the commander of ANUBIS? Sam wondered. He probably would learn nothing from the scientist. Sam looked ahead and let his eyes run up the massive, black stone castle wall to the battlements surmounting it. The keep with its crenulated towers mounted up above all, boasting a proud flag that flapped in the wind. A black dragon on a red field blew black flames from his mouth and nostrils. Under his feet were six characters DCLXVI. What could those stand for? Those have to be Roman numerals, Sam thought. But, what number do they represent? Sam wished he had learned more in school. The wind blew stronger, tugging at Sam’s hair and leather greatcoat and black clouds sailed across the starry night sky, partially lit by the moon. He gazed up into the sky, wondering what had brought this on so suddenly. Thunder boomed in the distance and lightning bolts tore the sky into shreds of light. Sam felt the scientist’s arm being wrenched from his grip. The man was running, heading to the left. Sam shook his head to focus and broke into a run. “Help!” the man shouted. “I am being attacked!” Sam caught up with him and grabbed his arm, shoving him up against the wall. “Listen,” Sam said. “Do you want me to gag you?” The man shook his head. “If you cooperate, I will do you no harm.” “You are a despicable fool,” the man said. “Do you know where you are?” “No,” Sam admitted. “You are at the Castle of Odin, headquarters of the Order of the Black Dragon and the headquarters of ANUBIS. Any minute now you will be surrounded by the castle guards. You have made a foolish mistake.” Sam didn’t like his change in tone. “If you do anything…” Sam said without finishing, nodding to his revolver.

The scientist shut his mouth and glared. “Take me to a gate,” Sam ordered. Reluctantly, the scientist obeyed and led Sam around the wall to a small double-doored gate which was bordered on either side by crenulated guard towers and arrow slits. The scientist knocked on the metal door and waited. No one came to the door. Three minutes passed with constant knocking. After five minutes had expired, Sam realized that no one was manning the wall or guarding the gate. How could this be? This was supposed to be the headquarters of ANUBIS. Sam turned around to gaze at the view outside the walls. In the clear moonlight, forested mountains marched up and down, vanishing into the distance, partially shrouded by low-laying clouds. Along the ridgeline on which the castle was founded, tall hills covered with mighty pines blocked the view in that direction. A path wound around the castle wall and snaked its way into the trees along the ridgeline. Roughly two-hundred yards away thick clouds of smoke wafted up through the air, coming from behind a hill. Sam nudged the man forward toward the direction of the rising smoke. “What are you doing?” the scientist said. “We’re going to investigate.”

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“What made you want to get saved?” Mary asked Ivan. “I--” Before Ivan could explain, rapid footsteps pounded down the corridor outside the large, walk in closet. A man shouted, “We have to find the grand master and Count Oberst! Get everyone you can and search. This is an emergency!” “Yes sir,” a soldier said with a deep voice. Heavy footsteps ran off in either direction and Mary tensed, hoping no one would search the closet. “I need to gather all the maids, servants, and butlers who are not loyal to the Order. I have learned who are and who are not from the conversations we’ve had,” the maid said. “I never got you name,” Mary said, extending a hand to her. “I’m Mary Kirsch.” “I’m Melanie Bernstein. Pleased to meet you. Now, I’ve got to be off. There are about, I’d say…roughly twenty-five people who have not decided to swear

to serve the grand master and his goons.” “That is good,” John said. “We’ll be waiting here or nearby.” “I’ll try to hurry,” Melanie said before she left, shutting the door quickly behind her. “So,” Mary said, turning back to Ivan. “Tell me what made you want to get saved.” Ivan cleared his throat and began. “I have heard about Jesus Christ dying for our sins all my life, starting when I was a child. We attended the church every Sunday.” He started pacing as he continued: “My parents were faithful to the church, but I was a rebellious son and only pretended to read the Bible when they were watching. When they had left, I closed it and read out of my favorite Jules Verne novel. I’ve been thinking more and more about God and my eternity during my stay at Wurzel Anlage.” Looking at her, smiling, Ivan said, “When I met you and saw your boldness, love, and peace, and heard that you were a Christian, I realized I was missing something important. Earlier today I was faced with death and thanks to you I didn’t die, but I was this close…” Ivan said, holding his index finger and thumb a centimeter apart, “…to dying and spending my eternity in Hell. I am sure that Hell exists.” He smacked palm for emphasis. “How could men be so cruel to each other unless evil existed?” Ivan continued. “And, if evil exists, then Hell exists. And if evil exists, good must also exist. Therefore, God must exist. Mary, I want to get saved and get to know Him as my Savior. Can you help me? What do I do?” “It is very simple, but you must understand what you are doing and why.” “Okay.” “Romans 3:23 says, ‘For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God’. We are all sinners.” Ivan nodded, motioning for her to continue. “To get saved, you need to (1) admit you are a sinner, (2) repent, or turn away, from all sin, and (3) believe and confess your belief that Jesus Christ is God’s Only Begotten Son who died for all your sins and paid for them with His sinless blood. You’ve got to believe and confess that Jesus Christ rose from the dead because He conquered death.” “What does only begotten mean?” Ivan asked. “That means that Jesus Christ is God’s only Son that came from Him. He is God the Son and on earth He was a man, both at the same time.” “I believe that. Please, continue.” “Then, (4) ask God for Jesus Christ to be your own Savior. Then, make Him your Lord. If you confess these things and believe them with all your heart you will be saved. Romans 10:9-10 says, ’That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth

the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.’” “How do you know that? You memorized that?” “I did as a girl,” Mary said, smiling. “I believe all that,” Ivan said. “Then confess to God all those things and believe with all your heart what you say.” “I do,” Ivan said. “I confess to you God, that I have sinned against you, God. I choose to repent from all my sins. You know what they are. I repent from them and ask you, please forgive me, God. I believe that your Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ died for my sins and took them away with his sinless, priceless blood and rose from the dead. I want Jesus Christ to save me from my sins and to be my Savior. Please, Lord God, do this for me. I am yours. Please, save me from Hell. I don’t want to go there.” Ivan blinked a couple times. “Am I saved now? I don’t feel any different.” “You are saved if you really believed what you said.” “I do.” “Great,” Mary said. “Ivan, you won’t feel different right away, but God will work on your heart to bring you close to Him.” Ivan nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “I look forward to praying to God.”

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“You don’t want to investigate that,” the scientist said with a sneer, “unless you want to be sacrificed.” Sam did a double take. “What do you mean?” “Every year at this time the residents of the castle perform a sacrifice to Odin, Lucifer, Zeus, Osiris, etc. They are all the same names for the same god. The Order selects thirteen humans they have captured and places them on an altar made of wood. The altar is consumed with fire and the sacrifices burn alive. Their screams are drowned out by music played on Celtic drums and loud singing. I’ve been to the sacrifice once, but I have a weak stomach and had to vomit. They drink human blood.” “Then, why do you work for them?” Sam said, narrowing his eyes. “I get paid better than I could elsewhere and they have promised me my own private estate after they have conquered Europe.” “You’re doing it for the money, huh?” Sam said. The scientist remained silent. Sam was disgusted with the man. He only cared about money, power, and

prestige. “Let’s find a way into the castle, shall we?” Sam said. Together, they walked around the castle wall, looking for another gate. Before Sam and the scientist had gotten a quarter of the way around, a man shouted at them from the wall top. “Hey,” he shouted, “stop right where you are.”

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A knock came at the closet door. Mary opened it, hoping that no soldier was standing outside. To her dismay, a Prussian soldier was standing outside the door. Mary was about to shut it, when his hand shot out and stopped her. Mary stepped back, staring at the man. Something doesn’t quite look right, she thought as she stared. He looks too old to be a soldier. The man appeared to be in his fifties and he was wearing an infantryman’s uniform. “Who are you?” Mary asked. “I am Albert. I suppose that you are Mary?” “I am,” Mary said cautiously. “Melanie sent me to you. She had me put on this disguise. But, I suppose it really is not much of a disguise.” “It works,” Mary said, grinning. “I believe she is gathering more people,” the older man said. “I’m John and this is Petrus,” John said, extending a welcoming hand. Before long, more people began filing into the closet until it was crammed beyond capacity. Petrus opened a warp tunnel in the back wall and the men and women Melanie had gathered stepped into the grassy bailey. No guards were around, thankfully. Mary, Petrus, and John gathered together. “What are the plans?” Mary asked. “We have to locate the portal and last I know it was on the other side of the castle wall,” Petrus said. “How do we locate it with such a large crowd?” John asked. “I believe, come to think of it, that today is a pagan sacrifice day for the Order,” Petrus said. “They might be sacrificing this night somewhere away from the castle.” “Then we should make use of that distraction,” Mary said. Petrus sighed. “Let’s hope and pray no one sees us.” The group broke apart and Petrus waved his hands toward the group of over

twenty-five to listen up. “People,” John spoke up, “stay close to us if you want to escape. Obey everything we say and you will be safe.” “Where are we going?” Sophia said. “You will see,” John said. “Just follow us.” With that, John walked across the bailey with the stars twinkling overhead. Mary looked up into the night sky and noticed dark clouds blotting out some of the stars. Moonlight highlighted their edges and thunder pealed in the distance. She saw a few lightning flashes in her peripheral vision. Suddenly, a loud thunderclap pounded through the air as a bolt of lightning struck the side of the mountain just half a mile away. More lightning and thunder broke the night stillness and wind tugged at Mary’s dress and hair, making it fly wildly. Mary turned her attention back to the wall. They were very close now and Petrus was aiming his warping gun. Before he fired, Sophia screamed and pointed at the sky. All eyes turned toward the sky. A few miles away to the east, lines of electricity flowed from mountain peaks and terminated in a massive ball of electricity and energy that floated in the night sky like a marble suspended on a string. Mary remembered seeing that phenomenon when they had left Wurzel Anlage on the train. It was a giant version of the device she had seen in the mountain fortress they had traveled from. Thor’s Hammer had been activated. Mary remembered what the scientist had said earlier about its ability to level a whole city in a very short time. “It’s Thor’s Hammer,” Mary said. “This is not happening,” Petrus said in anguish. “This cannot be happening. They are preparing to fire the hammer. We must stop this.” Petrus turned to the wall and fired, opening a warp tunnel. He motioned for Mary and the onlookers to walk through it. “Hurry up,” he said. Mary took Sophia by the hand and said, “There is nothing to fear. Follow me.” Seeing Mary lead the way through, the rest followed. And, once all were through, Petrus closed the hole. They were outside the castle walls, and all faces were focused at the phenomenon to the east. The ball of electricity and energy was increasing in size. “How much time before it fires?” Mary asked Petrus. “I’m guessing less than eight minutes,” Petrus said, lines of worry crossing his face. Mary turned suddenly, listening. She thought she heard someone shout from the castle wall. Who had shouted and why had they shouted? Mary wanted to

investigate. “Petrus,” She said. “May I borrow your warp gun?”

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Sam turned around to see who had shouted at him and looked up. Colonel Anton Klaue. Sam had half a mind to shoot at the evil man at that moment, but he noticed the four super soldiers poking above the battlements, aiming their weapons at him. “Well, I never thought I’d see you here,” Colonel Klaue said with a sneer. “You like to surprise people, don’t you?” I hope I will never see you again, Sam thought. “Drop your weapon,” Klaue ordered. Sam did, wishing he had been more cautious. He had been foolish not to study his surroundings more carefully. He glanced back toward the scientist he had captured, but he was nowhere to be found. The scientist must have dashed off back toward the portal, Sam thought. “What are you doing here and how did you get here?” Klaue said angrily. Sam didn’t want to lie. “I came through a portal,” he said. Klaue looked surprised. “You came through a portal? How? Why?” Sam kept his mouth shut. I’ll let him keep guessing, Sam thought. “I’m tired of playing games,” Klaue said. “Men, kill this rat.” Those words hit Sam like a hammer. Time seemed to slow down. His life up until that point flashed before his eyes. He was really going to die after all his scrapes with death. There was no way he couldn’t die, Sam realized. He was unarmed and out in the open. The soldiers on the wall were aiming at him from a point blank range. It would be impossible for them to miss. Before a shot was fired, a warp hole appeared in the stone wall in front of Sam and someone came running through. “Sam!” Mary screamed. Sam looked toward the open warp hole and his eyes widened. What in the world was happening? Was he dreaming? Mary grabbed him by the arm and pulled him through the hole after her just before the first bullets rained down on the spot Sam had been a moment earlier. Was this really Mary or was she a hallucination? Sam had never seen a warp tunnel before and the sight of it alone was astonishing. Mary’s hand was wrapped around his wrist and her grip was gentle but firm. She let go of his hand and said, “Sam, we have to hurry.” They were on the other side of the wall in the bailey.

Sam knew this couldn’t be a hallucination. Her hand had felt so real. He reached out and took her hand in his, gripping her hand in his larger one. “Mary,” he said, “I love you.” Mary turned to him and looked at him with a softened expression. “I love you too.” Sam kissed her on the cheek and then both embraced. They held each other for a couple seconds before Mary said. “Sam, we really need to be hurrying. You’ll see why.” “Okay,” he said. Together, with hand in hand, Mary and Sam ran across the bailey. “Kill them,” Klaue shouted. Blam. Blam. Blam. The guns fired and patches of earth shot up in small sprays on either side of the couple. Mary and Sam let go of each other’s hand and zigzagged, hoping no bullets would strike them. They reached the stone church building and ran around it for cover. Using it as a wall between them and the shooters, they ran toward the closest bailey wall. “Chase them, you idiots!” Klaue’s voice echoed through the bailey. Reaching the wall, Mary opened a warp tunnel and rushed through Sam turned around to look back the way they had come. Four super soldiers were running after him, approaching rapidly. They ran faster than he thought possible, over thirty miles per hour. Sam rushed through and Mary closed up the hole just before the giants would have reached it. “This way,” Mary said, running along the wall. Sam followed her, running by her side. He missed her dearly, but now was certainly not the time for catching up. Before long, they saw a portal floating a couple inches above the grass. Sam and Mary gazed through and saw the ramp of the control room on the other side. The room was filled with people. Who are those people? Sam wondered. Mary didn’t waste a second dashing through the portal and Sam followed. As they descended the ramp from the portal generator Sam asked Mary, “Who are these people?” “Servants,” Mary said, “or rather slaves that were conscripted by Soranus the grand master of the Order. We were able to help rescue them.” “Mary,” Petrus said, “you’re back. I thought you were going to die for sure.” “Petrus, could you shut down the portal?” Mary said. “We were being followed by super soldiers.” “At once,” Petrus said before typing away at the computer. Sam walked back toward the ramp, climbed it, and looked through the portal. He back up and pointed.

“We’ve got company!” he said. “Who?” Sophia asked, worried. “Soldiers.” “Soldiers?!” several people shouted. “We’re going to die. You brought us here and now we’re going to die.” Petrus typed faster. Sam pulled out his pistol and fired through the portal at the giant running toward the portal. His bullets struck the metal breastplate and bounced off. Shoot lower, Sam thought as he aimed at the legs. The giant didn’t even flinch as he fired point blank into the nearest one’s legs. Sam jumped off the ram and onto the nearest tier of the platform, ducking. A burst of fire shot through the portal, smacking into the stone wall, missing Sam by inches. The giant was just about to pass through the portal and the tip of his gun was already protruding through when the portal suddenly shot off, vanishing into thin air. The scene on the other side of the portal disappeared, along with the giant. But, the angular tip of the giant’s gun clanked onto the platform just inches from where the portal had been. Electricity sparkled from the three metal columns at the top before fizzling out. Everyone let out a sigh of relief. “And now, I must redirect Thor’s Hammer to a new target,” Petrus said. “What is Thor’s Hammer?” Sam asked. Several others echoed his question. “I will open a portal so you can see,” Petrus said, typing away on the giant computer. The three metal columns hummed back to life and a portal soon opened. Sam and more than twenty others walked up the ramp to gaze through the wide window. The portal was hovering just inches above a mountain peak facing the same castle they had escaped from just a couple minutes ago. From their vantage point they could see a bonfire some distance from the castle on the other side of a hill. Scores of people dressed in black robes swayed back and forth, chanting something. A pentagram-shaped altar of wood was ablaze, casting smoke and sparks into the air. Some oblong bundles were tied onto the pentagram, burning with tall orange flames. A short distance away the castle seemed larger than before. Sam could see that another walled compound lay just two hundred yards from the castle, through some dense trees. Railroad tracks that hugged the side of the mountain ran in through a gate in this newer compound. Several large buildings occupied its center. Soldiers walked along the walls of the compound, patrolling. To Sam, they

looked like ants crawling across a rock. Before Sam could take in more details, the view through the portal shifted to another mountain where Petrus had opened a different portal. From this new vantage point, Sam and the rest gazed through the portal at the sky and the electrical ball of energy that hovered over the air, suspended by three lines of electrical energy which shot from three mountains. “That is Thor’s Hammer,” Mary said from beside Sam. “Thor’s Hammer,” Sam muttered. “What is it?” Before Mary could respond, the blue sphere began to change color from blue to green, shifting through the color spectrum. Before long, it had changed from green to bright red. The lines of electricity glowed brighter, and the sphere of energy became to bright to look at. “Here goes nothing,” Petrus said, typing in one final command. The view switched back to the portal looking down on the castle complex. Nothing seemed to be happening on the ground. The people swaying back and forth before the conflagrating wooden pentagram continued to do so and the castle continued to stand proudly over the mountain. The flag with the black dragon emblem continued to flap in the wind, but the lightning an thunder was increasing in intensity and volume. Lightning bolts ripped through the sky, striking mountain sides. With just the slightest hint of movement, the walls on the castle began to vibrate. Trees as far out as five-hundred yards began swaying back and forth. Before long, cracks appeared in the castle walls and chunks of stone began to fall. Sam caught sight of people in the castle bailey running toward the keep. Larger chunks broke off and plummeted into the bailey and around the wall. The buildings lining the bailey walls started buckling and snapping into pieces. Then, faster than Sam thought possible, the entire castle began to buckle and crumble into broken chunks of masonry. The massive keep broke to pieces and crumbled as if it were made of powder. Multi-ton chunks of stone crashed down into buildings nearby, smashing them to ribbons. Cracks appeared in the ground and deep fissures and crevasses opened, drawing rubble into their maws. While this happened, the black-robed people started screaming and running in all directions, but the ground opened up as if it were a living organism and swallowed them up in deep fissures. The entire wooden altar fell into a deep chasm a second later, taking many of the satan worshipers with it. The other compound two hundred yards away got the same treatment as deep fissures sucked up its masonry and fortified buildings. The rails drooped down into a deep pit, bent and twisted from the massive earthquake that had suddenly struck.

Sam turned his attention back to the Castle of Odin, nothing was left of it except for a few pieces of rubble and the dragon flag. Even now, Sam could see it rolling down a slope into a fissure. In moments, it was sucked down the dark throat, never to be seen again. The destruction was complete. Every tree, rock, building, and hill within a half mile from the castle keep was fallen, broken, or gone. The ground was vibrating still and more cracks opened up, swallowing what remained of the castle rubble until nothing was left. Everyone who had been within a half mile from the castle keep was surely dead, buried deep in the earth. Now, thanks to their own technology, the Order’s command center and top leaders were gone, never to be seen from again. And, Klaue would never issue another order to anyone. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” Petrus said to the group in the control room, “you have witnessed the destructive power of Thor’s Hammer and you have seen it eradicate the Castle of Odin. Now, prepare to witness the destruction of this control center: the only control center for Thor’s Hammer. I will open a portal for us to escape. Through it, we’ll be able to witness Thor’s Hammer destroying its own brain, so to speak.” Petrus opened a panel in the wall and reached into a compartment, pulling out another metal suitcase. He unlatched it and set to work. Before long, Sam and the others stepped through a portal that took them back to the palace grounds in Berlin. Through the portal, they watched a powerful earthquake swallow the computer responsible for the portal and for Thor’s Hammer. A huge crack opened in the ground and swallowed up the tiered platform with its portal generator. The cables snapped and slid down into the hole, and the portal vanished that instant, restoring the forest clearing to its original condition. The only sign that a portal had ever been opened there was a scorch mark in the grass.

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Prologue

“I can only say that you folks are amazing,” Kaiser Wilhelm said pacing back and forth with excitement that was rare for the ruler of Germany. A week had passed since Sam, Mary, Ivan, Petrus, and John had arrived at the Stadtschloss, the royal palace in Berlin by means of a portal. It took a long time for Petrus to assure Wilhelm that the portal safe and was not some kind of magical art. Once he had been fully assured of this, Wilhelm had listened to each of the new arrivals as they explained the plans of the Order, their ordeals, the destruction of the Castle of Odin, and so forth. Ivan produced the three envelopes Soranus had stuffed into an encyclopedia at the castle. The Memorandum to All Generals Under Oath had revealed the names of all the generals under the Order’s command by way of their signatures. Wilhelm had sent a copy of the list to every leader in Europe he knew of. Franz Joseph had received it and had responded with questions, which Wilhelm answered with information obtained from the other letters. These other letters revealed specific political and military strategies of ANUBIS along with more information about the plans for the formation of a one world government and how that was to be achieved. Franz Joseph made arrangements to meet with Wilhelm and the two quickly realized how the both were being manipulated by the Order. Franz Joseph accepted a restitution gift from Wilhelm, part of which came from funds discovered in the underground base known as Wurzel Anlage. Sam, Andrew, Kurt, and a huge force of Prussians loyal to Wilhelm searched the place and found it full of prisoners, but absent of any soldiers, super soldiers, scientists, or officers. The lower section filled with tanks containing fetuses was completely empty of any life forms. The tanks were vacant of any developing babies, resting silently like sentinels. Sam had no idea where the staff had run off to or where the hybrid fetuses had been taken. For the time being, it was an unsolvable mystery. A month after the German government had rescued the captives of Wurzel Anlage, they sent a team to investigate the base and gather data. The team couldn’t enter the giant cavern because several massive cave-ins had completely blocked the way. They feared that using explosives to clear the way would only make matters worse, creating more cave-ins, possibly trapping them.

Bismarck had seen that all the Prussian troops loyal to the Order were sent to a penal colony where they would have to work if they wanted to live. After the prisoners at Wurzel Anlage were taken into refugee camps or sent back to their respective homes. Wilhelm funded Prospereau Petrus Schnörkelheim’s dream of starting his own research institute, called The Schnörkelheim Technological Institute. The scientist was ecstatic with joy for over a week afterwards. After all the loose ends were tied up, Sam invited Mary to take a walk with him in a Berlin botanical garden. There, he proposed to her with a diamond ring he had bought at the nicest jewelry store he could find. She accepted, promising him it was not because of his wealth that she loved him, and the two were married three months later. It was intended to be a small wedding, but word got around, and more than two hundred individuals showed up. Many had heard about Sam’s exploits and wanted to meet him and his bride. Somehow, later that evening Sam and Mary managed to slip away from the guests in a black automobile that Sam had purchased from the inventor directly. “Where might I be able to find Mr. Samuel Wallis?” one of the guests asked Andrew Kirsch while Andrew was nibbling on a cracker in the reception room. Andrew looked at him curiously. He wore a goatee, had an upturned handlebar mustache, and had combed back hair. A dark brown mole appeared over his nose. There was nothing unusual about that, but something about the man didn’t feel right. “Why do you want to know?” Andrew said. “They just got married. They’re away on their honeymoon.” So, he was not actually a guest, Andrew thought. “Oh,” the man said, “that is too bad. I really wanted to meet Mr. Wallis. But, I guess I can wait until later.” “I can take your name down and inform him of you,” Andrew suggested. “No need,” the man said before planting his top hat on his head and turning. He left without another word, shutting the door behind him. Andrew took another bite and shrugged. Must be another reporter, he thought.