A Gift from the Gods

by Martin Gunn

  “Hello again,” she beamed, “find what you were looking for?”

  “Yes,” he replied simply, not wishing to go into details.

  The girl looked around her for somewhere to sit. It was lunchtime and the cafeteria was bustling. Realising her predicament, von Brandt gestured to the chair opposite him.

  “Please sit here if you wish.”

  “Are you sure,” she simpered, “I don’t wish to intrude.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she sat down.

  “Doctor Laura Ellis,” she beamed, extending her right hand across the table.

  “Gary Brand,” reciprocated von Brandt, shaking it gently.

  Laura tucked into her salad as von Brandt watched.

  “Did you have any success, Doctor Ellis?”

  “Laura please, and yes, some,” she replied, taking a sip of water, “my fascination with genealogy is loosely linked to my work. I’m a biochemist and as a side interest I am intrigued by the way some human conditions are hereditary.”

  “A biochemist you say?” von Brandt’s interest was piqued by this revelation, “so you would be able to take a compound – fluid for example – and break it down into its component parts to replicate it?”

  “Well yes that can be done,” replied Laura thoughtfully, “but it is more the study of chemicals within living organisms at a molecular level.”

  “This is interesting,” mused von Brandt “would you be interested in doing some private work for me? I can pay, you understand.”

  Now Laura’s interest was piqued.

  “What kind of work?”

  “Would you be free to meet me later this evening? We could talk about it in more detail.”

  “Um – sure,” she uttered with uncertainty, “where did you have in mind?”

  Perceiving her caution, von Brandt tried to make his proposition as casual as possible.

  “Look I will be at this bar at eight o’clock tonight,” he divulged, writing the name on his notebook and tearing the page out to pass over to her, “feel free to join me, and perhaps we can discuss it further.”

  “Okay, but I’m not making any promises.” She felt it prudent to be non-committal.

  Von Brandt stood up to leave.

  “It was nice to have met you,” he smiled, “I hope to see you later.”

  Laura watched von Brandt leave the cafeteria and he instinctively knew, with great satisfaction, that she was observing him. It was clear to him that an intelligent woman like her would have to find out more. And he was right.

  Laura looked at the piece of paper, knowing full well that she would be meeting this man at eight o’clock that evening.

  ***

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” complained Doctor David Phillips, as he climbed into the taxi, “its complete madness. You know nothing about this man.”

  “That’s why I’ve asked you along,” replied Laura who was already inside.

  She took the piece of paper out of her purse and read it out loud.

  “Casey’s Irish Pub, it’s on….”

  “I know it,” interrupted the taxi driver and pulled out into the traffic.

  Doctor David Phillips was a man in love. He had met Laura years ago, when they first started at university together, and despite the fact that he found her extremely attractive from the get go, he never had the confidence to ask her out, or indeed express his feelings. David had to watch, as she dated one man after another, learning with bitter experience, that she had a particular type – tall and athletic. He, on the other hand, was the antithesis of this, being of average height, slightly overweight with thinning hair. Despite her obvious attraction, however, none of her relationships seemed to last, and he held out some hope that in the future Laura might finally notice him. It wasn’t going to be tonight though, since it was obvious that she was overly excited to meet this stranger again.

  “So, you don’t know what he wants?” it was more of a statement than a question.

  “Well – no,” replied Laura pensively, “but I’m intrigued, aren’t you?”

  “I guess,” David tried to sound more enthusiastic than he felt.

  For the rest of the short journey, they both remained silent, each wrapped up in their own disparate thoughts.

  After stepping out of the taxi, Laura and David walked into the bar. The lighting was low, and the dark wood furnishings only increased the crepuscular ambience. As their eyes adjusted, Laura scanned around looking for von Brandt.

  Finding him sitting at a table in the corner of the bar, she smiled and walked over, with David following sullenly behind. Von Brandt saw them approach and stood up to greet them.

  “I’m glad you could make it.” he smiled.

  “I’ve brought a friend with me,” Laura returned the smile, “I hope that’s okay. He is a biochemist too. We work together at the University of Southern California, here in LA.”

  David stepped forward and extended his right hand.

  “David Phillips, pleased to meet you,” he lied, through gritted teeth.

  Von Brandt shook his hand and gave a curt nod of the head, which David thought rather quaint, if not old fashioned. He gave the man opposite him a quick scrutiny. The stranger was indeed impressive and he could see why Laura was taken with him. Being tall, handsome and obviously physically fit, he was exactly her type.

  “That’s not a problem,” reassured von Brandt, “perhaps I can engage the services of you both.”

  They ordered drinks, and von Brandt decided to get straight down to business. He reached inside his jacket and produced an ampule, which he passed to Laura.

  “What is it?” she enquired. Laura held it up to the light but all she could see was a clear liquid. David took the ampule and did the same.

  “It is the stuff that dreams are made of,” smiled von Brandt, paraphrasing a line from Shakespeare’s, The Tempest, “all man’s ambition and hope, distilled into a seemingly harmless liquid.”

  “And is it harmless?” asked David suspiciously, well aware that this enigmatic stranger hadn’t actually answered the question, “where did you get this?”

  “It is the property of the company I work for.”

  Von Brandt had anticipated these questions and had worked out a plausible story.

  “I am not at liberty to divulge their name, but I can say that both of you will be rewarded handsomely for a successful outcome.”

  “What do you want us to do?” they both interjected in unison.

  “I want you to replicate it, as simple as that,” replied von Brandt, “I will give you each $5,000 up front and a further $5,000 each, on a successful outcome.”

  “That’s very generous,” simpered Laura.

  “You must understand,” continued von Brandt with a stern look, “this project must be kept top secret. We have competitors who would like to get their hands on this.”

  “That’s not a problem,” reassured David, “where can we contact you?”

  Passing a piece of paper over with the phone number of his motel room he confirmed, “contact me here at seven pm, say every two days for an update, or sooner, if you have any significant results.”

  With that, von Brandt stood up to leave, after placing an envelope containing $10,000 on the table.

  “I will bid you farewell for now and expect to hear from you very soon.”

  As von Brandt strode away from the table towards the exit, David turned and called out.

  “Wait – you haven’t told us what it does.”

  But the enigmatic stranger had disappeared into the crowded bar and left.

  Turning the ampule around in his hand, David became pensive, then eventually he asked,

  “What do you think his accent is?”

  “I don’t know,” remarked Laura, “definitely European. Scandina
vian, or Dutch maybe.”

  “No,” retorted David, “I think he’s German, though his English is excellent.”

  “Yeah, better than some Americans.”

  “That’s for sure,” agreed David, “probably better than some British too.”

  “When shall we start analysing this?” enquired Laura taking the ampule and putting it in her purse.

  “Tomorrow’s the weekend, so Monday, I guess,” mused David, “the sooner we get started the better.”

  “We will need to be discreet, we don’t want the university getting wind of this.”

  David nodded and stood up to leave, and as they travelled home he wondered what on earth they had got themselves into. For her part, Laura looked forward to seeing Gary again. She was completely infatuated and hoped to get to know him better.

  Back in his motel room, von Brandt sat on his bed and picked up the folder containing the schematic diagrams for the Glocke. He was especially interested in the electronic layout for the timer, hoping that someone in the present day would be able to make some sense out of them. As he pulled the folded plans out, a small card dropped out onto the bed. Picking the object up, von Brandt examined it curiously. It was white and about the size of a business card. On one side was a picture of the Nazi eagle holding a swastika in its claws and as he turned the card over it revealed some writing in German. At the top it read, Der Adler Wird Wieder Auferstehen – The Eagle Will Rise Again. Below this was written ‘Check for this in the newspaper classified section. Password – ‘Vengeance’.

  Leaning back on his pillow, von Brandt lit a cigarette and made a mental note to buy some newspapers the next day, though his real priority was to find an electronics expert. The one aspect of the time machine that Sprick was unhappy with was the mechanical timer. If they wanted to choose specific dates and places, a more reliable device was necessary; they had been lucky so far but he was reluctant to use the machine again until the proper design was fitted.

  ***

  Three days later in their laboratory, Laura and David stared perplexed at the petri dish in front of them. The clear fluid had been broken down into its component parts, being made up of oxygen, hydrogen and trace elements of carbon and nitrogen. What was left in the dish, was an opaque gel-like bead about an inch in diameter, which appeared to be completely inert.

  “I don’t know what to make of it,” said David, “it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  “I know,” agreed Laura, “how are we expected to replicate something when we can’t identify it?”

  David had noticed earlier in the day that she didn’t seem her usual self.

  “Are you okay?” he asked with genuine concern.

  “I’ve got a headache,” she replied frowning, “I think I might be coming down with a cold.”

  “Why don’t you go home, I’ll finish up here. We can continue this tomorrow if you’re feeling better.”

  Taking David’s advice, Laura got her coat and left, leaving him with the dubious task of reporting to von Brandt their results – or lack of them. With a payment of $10,000, he didn’t feel that they were giving good value for money.

  At exactly 7pm, von Brandt’s phone rang. He picked it up and heard David on the other end. He sounded nervous as he explained the situation to von Brandt who, knowing the origin of the liquid, was not at all surprised.

  “I have every confidence in you both,” stated von Brandt, mustering all of his innate charm, “hopefully it is just a matter of time.”

  “Thank you, Gary,” replied David, “it could take a while.”

  “There is one thing that I would like to ask you,” ventured von Brandt, “do you know anyone who is an expert in electronics?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” David was relieved to change the subject, “Laura has a cousin, much younger than her, who is a bit of an electronics wizard. The only problem is that he is socially awkward and communicating with him can be difficult. He is especially suspicious of strangers.”

  “Would it be possible to show him some diagrams that I have?”

  “I’ll get Laura to ask his mother and get back to you.”

  They hung up and von Brandt decided to scan through the classifieds of the day’s newspapers. Yesterday’s had proven to be fruitless and after carefully scanning today’s – nothing. He threw the papers on the floor in frustration and lay back on his bed. It occurred to him that things weren’t going too well. The drug had hit a stumbling block, the papers were revealing nothing and a potential electronics expert was, in von Brandt’s mind, a possible retard; someone who was complete anathema to a committed Nazi like himself. He had no choice but to be patient.

  ***

  Laura turned up for work the next day but it was clear to David that she was no better; worse if anything. Her eyes were watery and from the way she was talking her nose was congested.

  “You look terrible,” he exclaimed, “you should’ve stayed home.”

  “There’s too much work to do,” Laura’s blocked nose made breathing difficult as she spoke, “you need me here.”

  “Okay then,” David replied doubtfully, “where did you put the sample?”

  “Over here.”

  Moving over to a cabinet, Laura retrieved the petri dish and removed the lid. With perfect timing and without warning she sneezed violently over the sample, much to David’s obvious disdain.

  “That’s just great,” he complained, “you’ve just contaminated our only sample.”

  “I’m sorry,” apologised Laura, fully aware of the implications of what she had just done, “do you think Gary has any more ampules?”

  “I don’t know,” David was too exasperated to admonish her, plus he could see that she was close to tears, “look, go home and get some rest. I’ll contact him later and find out.”

  Later that day David decided to inspect the contaminated sample with a view to destroying it, if necessary. To his astonishment the inch-diameter gel had increased to such an extent that it had lifted the lid off the dish and spilled over onto the bench. Immediately he reached for the phone.

  Laura was dozing on her couch when the phone made her jolt into semi- consciousness. Eventually she lifted the receiver.

  “Laura, I’ve just checked the sample in the petri dish, and since you sneezed on it, the sample has grown significantly,” David blurted excitedly.

  “What are you saying,” Laura was still trying to wake herself up, “the drug feeds on pathogens?”

  “Well yes, if we can increase it using bacteria or viruses we will be able to manufacture the liquid.”

  The implications of such a serum began to dawn on Laura.

  “We might be looking at a super vaccine here. Pharmaceutical companies would pay a fortune for something like this.”

  “Yeah, just to keep it under wraps.”

  “I shall be in tomorrow,” replied Laura, “we need to reconstitute the gel and test it.”

  “I’ll prepare a lab rat for tomorrow.”

  They hung up and Laura tried to get her head down again, though with her mind buzzing with these latest developments, she knew that was highly unlikely.

  ***

  Von Brandt also had a breakthrough the following day. All the newspapers were running an advertisement in the classifieds, which read The Eagle Will Rise Again, with a contact number below. Without hesitation he dialled the number. A stern male voice answered.

  “Password?”

  “Vengeance,” replied von Brandt looking at the card.

  “Please hold the line,” requested the voice, a little less curtly.

  After a long pause, another voice answered, this time speaking in German.

  “Identify yourself.”

  “Hauptsturmführer Gustav von Brandt reporting.”

  “Where are you located?”

 
“About an hour’s drive north of Los Angeles, I have rented a warehouse there.”

  “Can you give us a grid reference?”

  “Err… yes,” hesitated von Brandt as he grabbed his map and unfolded it.

  He relayed the grid reference to the voice on the other end and awaited a reply. Eventually the voice spoke again.

  “Be there for a rendezvous in three days’ time at midday. Is that clear?”

  “Quite clear,” confirmed von Brandt.

  The voice hung up, leaving him to speculate what he would encounter later in the week.

  The following day, von Brandt received a phone call from David. He was excited to disclose his results. They agreed to meet in the same bar at 7pm that evening, and when von Brandt arrived five minutes early, he saw Laura and David waiting for him at the same table. Remembering their tipple, he approached the bar and ordered drinks, then sat down and smiled.

  “This is excellent news,” stated von Brandt clearly pleased, “you have done well.”

  “Most of the credit must go to Laura,” replied David, “if she hadn’t sneezed on the sample we might never have discovered it.”

  It made perfect sense to von Brandt that the serum fed off pathogens. Since taking the drug, he had not had any form of illness whatsoever – not even a cold. He was no expert but knew, from what Dr Sprick had explained to him, that the drug penetrated to a cellular level and prevented cells from degenerating and in fact improving them. Feeding on pathogens in the body was new information and made him realise that what he had was the perfect drug. Life extended indefinitely with the benefit of no illness.

  “Do you have anything to give me?” enquired von Brandt trying to stay calm.

  Nodding, David looked around him. They were sitting in a discreet corner and no one was paying any attention to them. He opened a bag by his side and lifted out a cardboard box. Von Brandt peeked in as David opened the lid. Lying in neat rows were about twenty phials of serum.

  “Is this all of it?”

  “Yes,” replied Laura, “we tested it on a rat with disastrous results. There is much more work that needs to be done with it.”