The Caves of Etretat: Part One of Four

by Matt Chatelain

  Raymonde sat right behind me as I tried the luxurious Captain's chair. A row of screens displayed views from all around the sub. Coulter was already pressing switches and toggles.

  "How do you know what to do?" asked Briar, looking over Coulter's shoulder.

  "I downloaded the manual last night and brushed up on the specifics. I've done tons of simulated submarine dives before, so I'm already familiar with most of the controls. I'm closing the hatch now."

  He pressed another button. With a whirring noise, the hatch lifted up, locking with a solid clang. My ears popped as the pressure increased and stabilised. "This baby is all automatic, so it's easy to operate. Okay, everyone put your seat belts on. We're going down!"

  A muted whine accompanied bubbles flowing up both sides of the Argos and it slowly sank into the channel waters, moving forward at a brisk rate.

  "It's so quiet," commented Raymonde. "Look, I can see fish."

  We examined the marine life as we continued our descent. I experienced apprehension when the gloom became darkness. Lights flashed on, dispelling my vague feelings.

  "There's the bottom. I've got our position marked, Let's set our proper heading. There. Now the Argos knows where to go," informed Coulter.

  We reached the underwater canyon quickly. Coulter reduced speed, slowing the Argos to a crawl and we headed into the side canyon. The sub's powerful lights exposed the strange optical illusion once more. Even though I knew it was illusion, it still remained completely convincing. Slowing further still, we approached what seemed like a solid rock wall. I tensed as we inched closer, my hands gripping the arms of my chair tightly.

  "Thank God, there's the line. I thought we were going to crash," exclaimed O'Flanahan, breathing a sigh of relief.

  The cleft had split in two, a dark line appearing where they joined. The line grew wider, revealing the optical illusion for what it was. Halfway through, Coulter slowed the Argos to a complete stop, giving us a chance to examine the huge concave mirrors. They were made of metal plates, polished to a perfect sheen. Requiring no energy, it was a brilliant camouflaging system. Simple and effective.

  "There's Calvin!" shouted Coulter, jabbing at a screen in excitement.

  Calvin, our lost remote camera, was lying on the seabed floor where it had landed after it lost our controlling signals. "I had Captain Languenoc attach a magnet to a winch under the sub, preparing for this exact possibility. I think we can recover Calvin. Bear with me for a few moments," Coulter explained, his fingers flying over the controls.

  The submarine inched forward imperceptibly. The main screen switched to a camera below the submarine, illuminating the seabed floor. Calvin was almost directly below. He was getting closer and closer to the centre of the screen, where red crosshairs had appeared. The moment Calvin lined up with the crosshairs, Coulter pressed another button and a large magnet floated down, wavering from side to side as it descended. Its aim was true, landing solidly onto Calvin's back.

  "Contact! I've got him," exclaimed Coulter in glee.

  "Enough of this time wasting, Coulter. It's time to go down that tunnel," prodded O'Flanahan.

  "I was just trying to get our deposit back," Coulter shot back. Once the remote camera was nestled safely under the Argos, he activated the propellers, starting us moving towards the exposed tunnel. It headed under the cliff at a sharp angle. Nothing but a submarine could come here.

  "Move forward slowly until we've reached the end of the tunnel. Everyone keep your eyes peeled," I cautioned.

  The Argos slid forward, exiting the tunnel. Coulter brought the sub to a full stop. We were in the bottom of a large rock bowl, shaped almost like a giant pipe. The sides were close. Coulter filled the ballast tanks with compressed air and we began rising. The walls vanished from view, forming a vast chamber.

  "The radar's detected something floating above. It's almost as large as the Argos," informed Coulter.

  "Can we surface beside it?" I asked.

  "Yes. There's plenty of room. It's like a small lake up there."

  While we continued our ascent, the waters became clearer, as if light were coming from above, which should be impossible in a cave. By now, it was easy to see the shape Coulter had detected. It was large and cigar-shaped, appearing distinctly like another submarine. Its shape was compact, like ours, and covered in a reflective yellow metal. Its surface was pitted with the same indentations as those in the camouflaged entrance.

  The Argos broke the surface of the calm waters. Coulter turned off the submarine systems, opening the outside hatch. The ambient, yellowish light was strong while seeming to have no direct source. It reminded me of the light from my dreams. "We're here! Time to disembark."

  "Me first," O'Flanahan said, running for the hatch and lumbering up out of sight.

  Soon, we were standing on the Argos' deck, looking around in awe. We were in a massive chamber. On the far left were huge stalagmites surrounded by a small natural landing. On this side, a long dock led to a concrete stairway winding its way upwards. The ancient submarine was moored to it.

  "Look at that sub. It's all gold!" whispered O'Flanahan, his voice hushed.

  It did indeed appear covered entirely in gold. It was sleek and stylish, almost feral in its design. Embossed on the conning tower was the Swastika symbol, putting to rest all of our questions about Nazi involvement. They had been here and they had left their flagship behind!

  The dock was a massive structure stretching for a distance of at least thirty metres. At its end, the concrete staircase climbed along the vaulted walls of the cavern. Far above, a large concrete structure overlooked the entire cavern. Two gun turrets jutted out, one on each side.

  A deep silence filled the cave, broken only by the occasional drip of water and the lapping of small waves.

  "Let's take the gangplank and stretch it across between the two submarines. After that, we should be able to get onto that dock," suggested Jacques Vallin.

  Once across, we located a metal ladder fastened to the dock. Climbing onto the dock, we looked around for a moment then went up the wide staircase. It didn't take long to reach a dizzying height.

  Looking down, both submarines reminded me of toys, floating in the translucent water, light reflecting from everywhere, dancing designs over the walls. We continued the climb, the irrepressible O'Flanahan always several steps ahead. He entered the guard room, after examining one of the gun turrets, its barrel aiming downward, untouched by human hands in decades.

  "There's a way into the caves in here, guys." Inside the long, narrow room, O'Flanahan waited by a door.

  "It certainly is quiet," said Raymonde.

  "Some systems are still active. I can feel dry, fresh air coming from that doorway. There are still more than sixty-five metres of cliff above us. Fresh air could not possibly be filtering down here without help," Coulter observed.

  I opened the door, any trepidation easily overwhelmed by curiosity. Walking along a well-lit corridor, still without any apparent light source, I saw several entrances. We stopped briefly at the first two, rooms intended as barracks. Checking the second room, Briar stopped suddenly, his eyes peering in the corner. "What's that, over there, in the corner, by that bed frame?"

  Coulter walked over and checked the indistinct shape. He recoiled in horror, his hand held over his mouth. "It's a dead man!"

  We rushed forward, more to see the body than in sympathy for Coulter. The years had softened the outline of the man, mummified by the dry air.

  "There's another one over here." O'Flanahan had found it hidden behind a desk. Mummified, like the first.

  "How did they die?" asked Raymonde.

  "They don't seem to have been wounded. It's like they just dropped where they were standing," observed Briar.

  Bending down to look at the second body, he leaned on the wall for support. He pulled his hand away in surprise, looking dumbfounded.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  The wall was darker where his hand h
ad touched, leaving a slowly fading imprint. His hand was now glowing faintly. I touched the wall too, the first contact a surprise. I could understand why Briar had pulled his hand away. The wall felt soft and alive, its surface leathery. I had thought it was metal, painted a reflective white. "These walls are bioluminescent,"

  "Exactly, my boy. Whoever built this place knew what they were doing."

  "Both of these men are curled up in a fetal position. That's why we didn't see them at first," exclaimed O'Flanahan. "Look at the hands. They died clutching their throats. Their mouths are frozen open in a last gasping breath."

  "These poor men," observed Raymonde.

  "Poor nothing, Miss Leblanc," retorted O'Flanahan. "Look at those uniforms. They were part of the SS. These were very bad people. I don't pity them for one second."

  "Still, something caused both of those men to drop right where they stood," commented Briar. "I think these men were poisoned or suffocated."

  Ives Vallin grew agitated. His brother jumped in quickly, "Don't worry, Brother. Everything happened long ago. The danger has passed. Hasn't it, Mr Paul?"

  "I'm sure we're fine. It's been over sixty years. I don't know of many poisons which could last that long. Still, we should be careful. Not everything is as it appears. This is a more of a tomb than a fortress," I said, shuddering slightly.

  "Let's move on. I don't think we can find much more around here," Raymonde suggested, eager to be out of the room.

  We returned to the corridor and continued to its end, arriving at a metal door. A screen in its top half area allowed fresh air to flow freely. Entering, we found ourselves in a large octagonal room, a central hub, with eight passages heading off into different areas. Rails were imbedded in the floor. There was small turntable in the centre of the room from which a rail cart could have been sent in any direction. Plaques with symbols above each passageway indicated either their direction or purpose.

  One of them was a lightning bolt. "That might be leading to a generating station." suggested Coulter.

  Raymonde pointed at another plaque. "Could that one indicate another connecting hub, like this one?" she wondered.

  It was a symbol, shaped vaguely like an octopus, with eight arms around it. Below it was an arrow aiming upward next to a staircase symbol.

  "Yes, another hub, likely one above us," I agreed.

  "How big is this place?" exclaimed O'Flanahan.

  "We could get lost in here!" realized Briar. "We'd better be careful."

  "Don't worry, we won't get lost," reassured Coulter. "Using an enhanced GPS, I've been logging our movements. I know exactly where we are."

  "What does that plaque mean?" asked O'Flanahan, a certain tone in his voice. He was getting excited about something.

  "It looks like rows of shelves," helped Briar. "Perhaps the corridor leads to storage areas."

  "Let's go there," urged O'Flanahan.

  "I'd much rather go up," I said. "I want to get to the entrance under the destroyed foundation of the Fort of Frefosse. We might find more answers there."

  "Fine. You go up, I'll go over there," O'Flanahan replied.

  "Why don't we take a break here? We can use the time to figure out what to do," suggested Raymonde.

  "Sounds good to me, young lady. I'm quite thirsty. Despite all that water below, this fresh air is very dry," Briar said.

  Opening her backpack, Raymonde passed out sandwiches and coffee from a thermos. Wanting neither, I sat down on one of the metal benches lining the walls.

  "Why do you want to see those shelves so much?" asked Coulter.

  Liam O'Flanahan swallowed his mouthful with a noisy gulp. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he stood up and walked to a position where we could all look at him. "Guys, you know I live on conspiracies. It's my bread and butter. This adventure has been like heaven so far but that plaque has to take the cake. If I'm right, that passage will lead us to the answer of one of World War 2's most unbelievable mystery."

  Our eyes were locked on O'Flanahan. He did have his moments. "Throughout the Second World War, the invading Nazis stole countless heirlooms and invaluable pieces of art. As many as one hundred thousand items were stolen. The Nazis had convoys bearing gold, silver, art, statues, and other valuables, streaming out of invaded countries and ferreted into underground hiding places. Eisenhower himself went to examine some of the bigger finds. Over the years, many paintings were recovered. Unfortunately, despite the best efforts of bereft families and other well-intentioned researchers, over twenty thousand items remain unrecovered. Rumours abound of a 'Lost Museum', filled with the largest collection of stolen art in the world. The caves of Etretat would have been perfect as a hiding place. It is likely Hitler would have felt secure bringing the most valuable art to this stronghold. You all remember the stories from Bequilles and the Vallin brothers, about the constant convoys of trucks. So, just like you, I've been putting two and two together. I think we are standing at the entrance to that 'Lost Museum'. Hidden below us might be thousands of art pieces, stolen from the Nazis' battered victims."

  "I'd like to find out if he's right, Paul," Raymonde said.

  A similar glint of morbid curiosity was reflected in everyone's eyes. "All right, O'Flanahan, let's go see your shelves."

  ***

  We headed down a long sloping corridor, following the rails from the hub. Reaching the bottom, we found a tunnel lined with endless sliding doors, stretching almost as far as our eyes could see. The first room we came to was filled to overflowing, heavily obstructed with crates. Squeezing between boxes, we made our way to a large shelf system. Every crate was emblazoned with swastikas. My mind flashed back to my dream.

  The shelving structure was massive. There were four levels, reaching a height of five metres. Hinged glass panels covered individual sections. Opening the first glass panel with a grinding squeak, I exposed a tall, narrow shelf on which rested four large frames. Selecting one at random, I picked up a Rembrandt, a landscape. Seeing a smaller panel, I lifted it gingerly. Another Rembrandt.

  This was indeed the 'Lost Museum', its aisles glutted with the spoils of war. We had found a treasure but I wanted none of it. I felt horror instead of in awe. How many people had died to fill this room? Our mood had turned sombre, the joviality of the moment completely gone.

  "Let's get out of here," O'Flanahan said.

  A SELECTION FROM THE WEISSMULLER MANUSCRIPT

  Developing the caves

  It has taken several years to complete the cave complex. The power plant, developed by captive scientists, is producing more energy than we will ever need. The illuminating fungus has been trained to grow in all corridors, which are used to provide air for both men and this plant-based light source. A filtering system has been built to control dust and humidity. The cave mapping has been completed, providing us with a layout comprising more than seven hundred distinct caves. A rail system has been added which greatly facilitates the moving of the crates which arrive nightly.

  Over the years, I have lost more than fifty of my men through the efforts of the Maquis but I am satisfied to have exacted a high price for their lives. As well, I have been informed of Maurice Leblanc's death. I can only hope he learned of his son's demise before his own end. Perhaps it even hastened his death. He is now completely powerless against me. As for Lindon, he has vanished. I can feel his influence, moving pawns all around, but never close enough to matter. I know his puppet, Vallin, entered the tunnels a few times. He was much too late. The important one has been blocked. He can play in there all he wants. He will find nothing.

  While my men were the ones who constructed the complex, I was the only one who obtained a complete perspective of the scope of these caves. I designed a three-dimensional map which revealed certain oddities. The caves were arrayed in a vast circle, layer upon layer of them, most connected by cracks or tunnels. The central area was solid, filled with an amalgam of rubble, rather than bedrock. We used this area to install our main air shaft and st
air system.

  Near sea level, we encountered an underground river blocking our way into the lower cave system. We also discovered the water of this river has bizarre curative properties which cannot be explained by analysis. It was used as a potable water source in the fortress, keeping my men in much better health than should have been expected.

  The vast rubble-filled shaft in the center of the complex had me baffled. The caves' creation could neither be explained by natural sedimentary process nor by erosion. Water had been involved, to be sure, but another force had been originally responsible for this intricately woven web of caves. From prior research, the only answer possible was the destructive power of a meteorite.

  When we dug an exploratory tunnel directly into this central area, we struck a massive object composed of magnetic iron and traces of iridium, about one hundred meters below the cliff surface, confirming the meteorite hypothesis. It had been subjected to high levels of heat, melting its surface perfectly smooth.

  It was a gigantic elongated conical meteorite, driven deep into the cliff. The meteorite was too hard to mine and we had no need of unprocessed iron, so, after a few tests, we left it alone. The tests confirmed it had indeed originated from outer space and its magnetic field had likely been created during its superheated travel through Earth's atmosphere.

  ***

  The time is nearing when Hitler will arrive to take control of the fortress. His double is ready and travel arrangements are being prepared. Hitler has learnt much since I first met him. Our goals were almost one for a while. However, I have found him strangely distant during his last visits. He has issued orders to eliminate my men since they know too much about the caves.

  I had expected those orders, since I also agree with that decision, but I worry about Hitler's increasing megalomania. Dare I trust his motivations? He believes the caves are his destiny. What role shall I play, now that his plans have reached fruition?

  I too have become fascinated by the caves. We found evidence of Roman occupation and of their extermination. We found countless caches of gold and jewels, hidden in various locations in the caves. Several of these caches had been pilfered, probably by Leblanc and his cohorts. The gold Hitler had stolen from the caves had come from one such cache.