But not fast enough.
Someone grunted on the other side of the door, one of the soldiers obviously having jumped on board. He rushed to the other side of the cab, though it was too late.
“Halt!”
He spun around to see the SS colonel half through the window, his flashlight in one hand, his Luger P08 pistol in the other.
“Please, don’t! I swear I won’t tell anyone what I saw!”
“You’re right about that.”
The trigger squeezed once, then twice more, Hermann shaking with each hit before he sank to the floor, his blood unseen in the dark, but the dampness of his shirt and overalls leaving little doubt what was happening.
That and the searing pain.
And as the life drained from him and the brakes squealed, bringing them to a halt, his heart hammered out its last few beats as he paid the ultimate price for a desperate Reich and a desperate leadership that he could only hope would die soon, before it took his daughter, as it had taken his daughter’s father.
He closed his eyes and pictured his wife, her golden blonde hair an ideal in the Reich, and wished he had made it home to see her one last time.
And ached at the thought of the telegram she was about to receive.
Goodbye, my love.
2
Granger Residence
St. Paul, Maryland
Present Day
Tommy Granger sat in the corner of his bedroom, the same one he had lived in his entire life. Mai Lien Trinh, the woman his heart ached for every time she wasn’t with him, lay on her back beside him, her head propped up on a pillow as she chatted with friends back in Vietnam on Facebook.
It was a perfect day.
Except for the fact his parents were downstairs, and his bed creaked, so any fooling around had to happen on the hardwood floor, and his mother could walk in at any moment.
I have to move out.
It was beyond ridiculous that he still lived with his parents. He was in his twenties, already had his degree, and was ready.
“What’s in that box?”
He glanced down at Mai.
God, she’s beautiful.
“Huh?”
“That box in your closet. I don’t remember seeing it before.”
He glanced at the open closet, and his eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I forgot about that. It belonged to my great-grandfather. Some stuff my grandmother thought I might be interested in since I’m dating a history buff.”
Mai rolled to her knees, her eyes wide. “You mean it has old stuff in it?”
He shrugged. “Mostly papers, I think. All in German. My family on my mother’s side was German originally. I think they came here after the war. I’m not really sure.”
“Can we look at it?”
He smiled at her eagerness.
How can I ever say no to you?
“Sure, I guess.”
She jumped to her feet and rushed over to the closet, grunting as she bent over and pulled out the heavy box. Tommy forgot all about it though, the sight of her perfect posterior raising a flag. He pressed against her and she stood.
“Not again! Your mother will never let me visit you if she catches us.”
“I’m an adult.”
“Not as long as you live here, you’re not.”
The words stung, but she was right. “Maybe I’ll get my own place.”
“Sounds good. Something close to me would be nice.”
He grinned, the hurt gone. “Very nice.” He squeezed her butt, and she swatted his hand away.
“Give me a hand with this. It’s heavy.”
He made a show of flexing, then grabbed the box, heaving it onto his bed with a little more difficulty than his male ego could take. He sat on one side of the box, Mai the other, and removed the lid, revealing a bunch of boring old papers and photographs.
Mai was delighted, quickly reaching in and pulling out each piece of paper, one at a time, examining them carefully. “I wish I spoke German. I wonder what these say. Some of them look like official papers.” She held up several. “These look like ID. Was your great-grandfather in the military?”
Tommy shrugged. “No idea. Mom might know.”
He rose and grabbed his laptop off his desk, then his cellphone. He grabbed an envelope from the box, something scrawled on the front of it, and snapped a photo, uploading it into some optical character recognition software, then pushing the result to a translation program.
“Huh, I wonder what that means.”
Mai glanced at him. “What does it say?”
“It says, ‘My biggest regret.’”
3
Königsberg Castle
Königsberg, Nazi Germany
January 26, 1945
Two days earlier
Klaus Becker adjusted his tie then made certain his Nazi Party pin was in place and unblemished as SS Standartenführer Steiner strode into his office after inspecting the proceedings in the museum. The colonel’s arrival had been unannounced, though not unexpected. The war wasn’t going well, the Russians were closing in, and his museum contained a large number of precious artifacts, including one prize display worth more than the rest combined.
And it had to be protected.
“I trust everything was to your satisfaction.”
Colonel Steiner sat, crossing his legs and laying his black leather gloves on his knee. “Yes, a pleasant surprise, I must say. Too often German efficiency has been left to wane in these dark days.”
“Not here, I assure you.”
Steiner regarded him for a moment. “And you are certain you can have it dismantled within forty-eight hours and ready for transport?”
“Absolutely. We will work day and night. We cannot risk its capture, or worse, having it damaged in an air raid.”
“I would rather see it destroyed than fall into Russian hands.”
Becker was about to express his horror at the very idea of destroying a unique, priceless creation, but bit his tongue.
It was never wise to contradict a senior SS officer.
“Of course. I’m sure, however, that won’t be necessary. We will have it ready for your return in two days. Where will you be transporting it?”
“None of your concern. Let’s just say it is somewhere very safe, no matter the outcome of the war.” Steiner leaned in. “Secrecy is of the utmost importance. As discussed, I want different men transporting the crated items to the rail yard, and yet another crew loading it onto my train. No man must know what they are handling, nor where it came from before they handled it.”
“Understood. I will arrange for outside transport from a trusted source, and use the crews already at the rail yard to offload the trucks and load the railcars. They won’t know what they’re loading, nor will they know where it came from.”
“Or where it’s going. Only I and the engineer will know. Unfortunately, one of our trains was hit by the Allies yesterday, and my man was killed. I have yet to secure a trustworthy engineer, though I’m sure I’ll find someone in time.”
Becker cleared his throat. “I might be able to help you with that.”
“You know someone?”
“Not exactly. Let’s just say I know someone who probably does. He’s my go-to man if I ever need anything done quickly.”
“Who?”
“Oh, umm, you probably don’t want to know, Colonel. Rest assured, he’s a good Nazi. He’s been a member of the Party since the beginning, and can absolutely be trusted.”
“And he can get us an engineer we can trust?”
“I’m sure he can. He seems to have a man for every job. You need a baker, he’s got a baker. You need a plumber, he’s got a plumber.”
Steiner slapped his knee with his gloves. “All I need is an engineer to take the damned train where I need it to go, and who can be relied upon to keep his mouth shut.”
Becker gulped, perhaps having pushed the sales job a little too far. “I-I’m sure he can find us one.”
&n
bsp; “Find out.”
“Y-yes, sir.” He grabbed his phone and placed the call, the line ringing a few moments later, each second increasingly uncomfortable as Steiner stared at him.
I wonder how many men he’s killed.
“Hello?”
“Konrad, it’s Klaus Becker at the Königsberg Castle Museum. How are you, my friend?”
“Busy. What do you want?”
Becker was thankful the colonel couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, Konrad apparently not in a good mood, and never very friendly when he was. “I need a favor.”
“Of course you do. Everybody needs a favor. Again, what do you want?”
Becker smiled at Steiner, adjusting the knot of his tie once again. “Well, actually, the favor isn’t for me, it’s for the SS.”
“The SS?”
Becker sensed an immediate change in tone, a hint of fear in Konrad’s voice, and for a brief moment, he felt the surge the colonel must feel every time someone cowered in front of him.
Right now, at this moment, he was representing the SS, and he had the power to put fear into the heart of a man far more powerful than him.
“Yes, the SS. I won’t mention any names, but I need your help.”
“Well, umm, of course I’d be very pleased to help the SS. What is it you need?”
“I need an engineer that can be trusted with an important mission.”
“An engineer? No problem. Civil? Mechanical?”
“A train engineer. You know, someone that operates a locomotive.”
“Ahh, I see. Give me a moment.”
He heard the phone put down followed by footsteps. A filing cabinet drawer opened then closed, and the receiver was once again picked up. “You’re in luck. I actually have someone on file. He’d be perfect for the job.”
“Trustworthy?”
“Better. Compromised.”
Becker smiled. “Compromised? How?
“His wife. She’s apparently said some things that could be considered treasonous.”
Becker tensed, not keen on the idea of using a man’s wife against him. He wondered if his own wife might have said something she shouldn’t have at some point, and if Konrad had his name on a list somewhere, should there be a need for a museum administrator in the future. “Does he know?”
“Not yet, but I’ll see that he does. I assure you, he will be most cooperative after I’m finished with him. And discreet.”
Becker forced a smile. “Perfect. Have him report to the rail yard here in forty-eight hours.”
“Consider it done.”
Becker hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair slightly. “Done. You’ll have your engineer on schedule.”
Steiner smiled. “Nothing beats a good Nazi when you’re in a hurry.”
Becker chuckled. “Too true, too true. And our good Nazi’s engineer will fit the bill perfectly. Apparently, his wife’s tongue has been wagging. He’ll cooperate once he finds out, if he wants to see her alive again.”
Steiner rose from his chair. “You’ve done well, Herr Becker. Your name would feature prominently in my report, if there were to be one.” He straightened his jacket. “But there won’t be. You will keep no records of what is happening here, neither will your transport company, or the rail yard. There will be no record made of this shipment anywhere. Understood?”
Becker bowed slightly. “I understand completely.”
Steiner snapped to attention, extending his arm. “Heil Hitler!”
Becker sucked in a breath and mimicked the colonel as best he could. “Heil Hitler!”
4
Acton Residence
St. Paul, Maryland
Present Day
Archaeology Professor James Acton lay in his two-person hammock, the other half occupied by his wife, Archaeology Professor Laura Palmer. An iPad lay in his lap as they shared a set of earbuds, listening to an audiobook they had been competing for, finally agreeing just to listen to it together.
The hammock had been his choice, the sunroom at the back of the house and a bright sun enough to let them enjoy the experience without suffering the chill on the other side of the glass.
And there was nothing like shared body heat.
He stared at her chest, a hint of cleavage visible as she was slightly squished against him.
He kissed the top of her head.
She snuggled a little closer.
He tilted her chin up and smiled.
She eyed him. “It’s a book on the Templars. How is this making you horny?”
Acton grinned. “It’s not, you are.”
“You’re like one of your students.”
“Hey, enjoy it while you can. One of these days I’m going to need pharmacological assistance.”
“Then maybe the girls will get a breather.”
His busy hands froze. “I thought they were always enthusiastic participants.”
She groaned. “Oh well, I suppose I could spare a few minutes.” She leaned over to put the iPad on the floor when Acton felt them tip.
“Oh shit!”
He rolled over her and slammed onto the floor first, Laura landing on top of him with a thud. He groaned in pain, then forgot about it as a hand reached for his crotch.
“You don’t waste any time.”
She smiled. “Now you’ve got me feeling frisky.”
He groaned. “Meet Frisky.”
She squeezed. “Is that his new name?”
Acton tilted his head back, his ecstasy only beginning, when the doorbell rang. “Ignore it.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Oh yeah!
The doorbell rang again. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, you’re killing me!” He grabbed his phone and swiped his thumb, a live video of the front porch displayed. He held it up for Laura to see.
Tommy and Mai, two of their students.
“Yes?”
“Hi, Professor, I hope we’re not disturbing you, but we found something we think you should see.”
Acton sighed as Laura put Frisky away then gave the hidden bundle a pat before climbing off him. “What is it?”
“Some old papers of my great-grandfather. There’s something here I think you should read.”
Acton rolled to his feet. “Just a second.” He extended a hand and pulled Laura up, copping a few extra feels under the guise of straightening her clothes.
She stared at him. “Don’t think you’re fooling anyone.”
He grinned. “Am I that obvious?”
“Get the door.”
“Yes’m.” Acton opened the front door with a genuine smile. Mai Trinh had helped save their lives in Vietnam, and had paid the price by having to flee her country, the communist regime none too happy with her. He had invited her to his university, and over the past couple of years had come to think of her almost as a daughter, now very protective of the young woman.
Which was why he had been a little concerned when Tommy Granger, hacker extraordinaire, who as a teenager had broken too many laws to count, had taken an interest in her. Fortunately, his fears had been unfounded, the young man having turned his life around, now Acton’s go-to guy if he needed something computer related.
“Come on in guys.” He gave Mai a hug and would have shaken Tommy’s hand if he weren’t carrying what appeared to be a very heavy box. He stepped aside, letting Tommy rush past him to find relief through a flat surface somewhere. “What brings you two here?”
Tommy sighed around the corner after a heavy thump, as Acton took Mai’s coat and hung it up.
“We found something in some old papers that Tommy got recently from his grandmother. They belonged to his great-grandfather, and, well…” She smiled. “Maybe he should tell you.”
Tommy gasped from around the corner. “You’re doing fine.”
Acton followed Mai into the living area, Tommy standing with one hand on the wall, the other on his hip, the box sitting on the kitchen island. Mai retrieved an envelope from the top and
handed it to Acton.
“We found this inside.”
Acton examined the envelope, something written on the front in black ink. “What language is this? German?”
Tommy nodded. “Yeah, my mom said her family is part German. My great-grandfather, her grandfather, was German, then immigrated here.”
“I assume you know what it says?”
“It says, ‘My biggest regret.’”
Acton exchanged a glance with Laura, his eyebrows rising slightly. He carefully removed a sheaf of papers inside, opening the dry foolscap pages, praying they didn’t crack. It appeared to be a handwritten letter of sorts, dated January 28, 1965. “We’re going to have to get this translated.”
Tommy emerged from the kitchen, a glass of ice water in his hand. He grabbed a blue file folder from the box and handed it to Mai, who passed it to Acton.
“Tommy already used his computer to translate everything. It’s rough in some spots, but it’s accurate enough to get the gist.”
Acton scanned the pages, handing each one off to Laura as he finished. His eyes were wide when done, and he waited for Laura before saying anything.
She looked at him. “Is this saying what I think it’s saying?”
Acton shrugged. “I don’t know what you think it’s saying, but to me, it’s a retired cop telling about his last murder case, and how there might be a Nazi gold train sitting in the side of a mountain!”
Laura patted his shoulder. “Stay calm, dear, nowhere in here did it say there was a Nazi train loaded with gold sitting inside a mountain.”
Acton grunted. “You’re no fun.”
“That wasn’t the impression I got just a few minutes ago.”
“All right, Docs!”
Acton laughed at Tommy who delivered a remote fist bump. “Keep it clean.” He waved the sheaf of papers. “Okay, let’s cover what we know. Your great-grandfather was a cop. I assume there are things in that box to confirm this?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s talking about his last case. His big regret is that he was never able to tell the wives of the victims what had actually happened. As an archaeologist, there’s not much we can do with any of this story concerning the murders and the case itself, but I return to the fact that we have a dead train engineer, who must have delivered something to this mine he refers to, something that was worth killing for.” He pointed at Tommy, typing furiously on his laptop. “Have you looked up this mine?”
The Nazi's Engineer Page 2
