EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum

by Shane Stadler

  McHenry led the way, followed by Sylvia and Daniel. Horace lagged behind. They entered the wide, double doors directly below the Nazi banner, and proceeded down a wide corridor until they reached a steep staircase, which they climbed to a mezzanine level with many doors.

  After five minutes of walking, they came to a door with German words stenciled on it: Der Tod ist der Hirte der Menschheit.

  Daniel knew too little German to interpret it, so he turned to Sylvia, who stood frozen, staring at the phrase. “What does it say?” he asked.

  Sylvia moved her lips, but there was no sound.

  Horace walked up, looked at it, and spoke. “It says, death is the shepherd of mankind.”

  The words sent a twisting chill up Daniel’s back. “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “No idea,” Horace replied.

  “Let’s go inside,” Daniel said to McHenry. He knew what was there from the pictures.

  McHenry’s face turned solemn as he twisted the door’s heavy handle. The door squealed as he pushed it open.

  They entered what looked like a mental ward. Doors lined both sides of a long room, with about 20 on each side, and one door on the far end, opposite the entrance.

  McHenry led them to one on the right, opened it, and ushered them inside.

  Daniel entered with wide eyes. It seemed different from the pictures. It was as if Mengele was in the room with them – he could almost see the monster at work.

  A human skeleton was confined to a medieval cage-like device. Heavy electrical cables branched off from the various appendages – the head and extremities mostly, although some led to other places on the body. Electric motors and hand-operated levers were riddled throughout the structure. He knew exactly what the thing was: it was a crude Exoskeleton. It was nowhere near the level of sophistication of the modern device, but it had been born in this place.

  “See the little pieces of bone,” McHenry said, pointing to the floor and then to the saw mounted on the arm of the Exoskeleton. “Looks like some kind of automated amputation mechanism.”

  Sylvia walked closer and examined the one-inch pieces of bone. “It’s awful,” she said, but stepped closer.

  At that instant, a heavy clunk boomed from somewhere overhead, and the control panel near the entrance sparked with white-hot electricity. Simultaneously, the saw on the Exoskeleton screamed to life and lowered through the nub of arm bone sticking out of a steel cuff that might have fit tightly around the bicep had there still been flesh. Sylvia screamed, and Daniel thought he had as well, although it might have only happened in his mind.

  McHenry went to the control box and flipped switches. The saw wailed for a full 30 seconds before Daniel spotted a red button on the wall across from the Exoskeleton and pushed it. The saw powered down and coasted to a halt.

  “They must be powering up the main circuits,” McHenry said, and seemed to smile in relief. “That’ll wake you up.”

  Horace looked paler than usual, and Sylvia’s eyes were still as wide as soccer balls.

  “How many of these things are there?” Daniel asked.

  “About 40 rooms just like this, with minor variations” McHenry replied. “Examine those on your own later. Now let’s go to the library.”

  They weaved their way through the complex, which McHenry explained had six levels above the submarine bay, extending into the cliff overseeing the lake. Teams from the North Dakota were still exploring, looking for exits to the surface, among other things.

  After about ten minutes of walking and climbing stairs, they entered the brightly lit library. It smelled like the musty stacks in the old CIA archive where Daniel had done his first Omni research. The room was clean and the books looked to be in good shape. There seemed to be no humidity, despite the lower level being a submarine bay, and bugs weren’t a problem in Antarctica. So the books should have been well preserved, despite their age.

  The large area rug that covered the rock floor was similar in design to the banner in the bay, although the colors had faded. Daniel had often wondered why the Nazis had gone to such great lengths to overplay symbolism: it must have taken a long time to weave a custom rug with the Red Falcon emblem in the center. They’d cut no corners. It was something that he found disturbing.

  Over a dozen books were scattered about the table, many of which were open – some face down. He knew the bindings would be ruined after 70 years in such a state. It seemed like most were about ancient languages and semiology, written in a variety of modern languages. And he was sure that some would be considered rare, and quite valuable.

  “Was this the way the table was when you found it?” Horace asked.

  It was a good question. It would give them an idea of the last things the Nazis had been researching when they’d deserted the place – which seemed like it may have been in a hurry.

  “We disturbed nothing,” McHenry said.

  On the wall at the end of the room, closest to the table, was a large map. Daniel stepped closer and saw it was a map of the local area, including the tunnel and the base, although the details of the latter were missing. Various points were labeled in German, a few of which were repeated, nearly equally spaced, along the tunnel.

  “What are these?” Daniel asked, pointing to the repeated points.

  Horace squinted and spoke. “Atemzug: it means breath,” he said.

  “My God, of course,” McHenry said. “We found them on the way back through the tunnel during our first trip. They’re ten-inch pipes with flanges on the ends.”

  “What are they for?” Sylvia asked.

  “The U-boats needed air,” McHenry explained. “They weren’t as sophisticated as modern subs – no air scrubbers. And they had diesel engines which also needed oxygen.”

  “Interesting,” Horace added, “It also gave them more protection. Any sub pursuing them into this place would have to turn around before they ran out of air. The German subs, knowing there were vents ahead, could keep going.”

  McHenry nodded. “We don’t have such a protection – now everyone has subs that can stay submerged for months.”

  For a microsecond, Daniel thought he saw worry in McHenry’s face. It made him feel like they needed to get moving.

  He noticed something on the wall to the left and adjacent to the map. He recognized it from the pictures – it was the print of the disc. The writing was completely foreign to him. “Do we have access to the original?” he asked, pointing to the canvas.

  “We put it back in the vault room, exactly where we’d found it,” McHenry said. “Shall we go there?”

  Daniel glanced to Horace and Sylvia. They both nodded, and they followed McHenry out of the library.

  They walked for about five minutes. It was as if they were in the hall of a large office building, passing many doors on both sides. They turned a corner and McHenry stopped at one on the right.

  “Here we go,” McHenry said and led them in.

  The first thing Daniel noticed was the blown vault door, and was concerned that the contents had been damaged.

  McHenry seemed to read his expression. “We were careful to contain the blast,” he explained. “If we’d had time, we might have done it another way. But, as you know, time is one thing we don’t have.”

  McHenry opened a cabinet, revealing an object wrapped in cloth. He removed the cloth.

  Daniel stepped closer. The stone was off-white with black, inset markings. It was unblemished in any way – no chips or scratches – and the script of the writing was flawless. “Same material as the beacon?”

  McHenry shook his head. “Can’t confirm. We tried to scrape a sample from the backside to send for analysis, but we couldn’t get anything – even with a diamond scribe. In that sense, the two are similar.”

  McHenry replaced the cloth and closed the cabinet. “Now for the files,” he said. “Follow me.”

  The group walked deeper into the vault. On the far wall was a bank of file drawers, floor to ceiling. McHenry grabbed
a file from a small table next to the wall, and handed it to Daniel.

  Daniel opened the folder and examined the papers. The first one was written on Red Falcon letterhead, and was in German. It was dated 1948 and signed – Josef Mengele. He wanted to read it immediately, but needed it to be translated. His attention was drawn back to the file drawers. “Which drawer did this one come from?” Daniel asked.

  McHenry pointed to it and Daniel slid it open. The first thing that struck him was the depth of the drawer: it rolled out about six feet, and was packed solid with files. He extracted one at random and opened it. This one was also signed by Mengele, dated December 12th, 1949. “How can this be?” Daniel asked and handed it to Sylvia.

  “There are a lot of other peculiar things in this place,” McHenry explained, “but my feeling is that you were meant to spend most of your time in the rooms I’ve shown you.”

  “What other things?” Horace asked.

  “This is a self-contained facility,” McHenry said. “There are sleeping quarters, food preparation facilities, a power grid, running water, and a sewer system. And there’s a lot we haven’t gotten to yet.”

  “I’d be interested in anything you find in the living quarters,” Daniel said. “If there are books, handwritten materials, or anything out of the ordinary.”

  McHenry nodded.

  “I’d like to get started in the library,” Daniel said.

  “Okay,” McHenry said. “Find your way?”

  Daniel nodded. The best way to learn the layout was navigate it himself. Motivation stemming from the fear of getting lost would make him learn quickly.

  9

  Wednesday, 3 June (12:04 a.m. EST)

  The information in the library was unlike anything Daniel had seen before. Each book contained an insert that described its authenticity, including the date acquired and origin. Some had been collected before the war, but most were stolen from places the Nazis had conquered. Nazi SS teams had also obtained tomes from places like Israel, Egypt, the Middle East, and South America. It seemed that the Nazis’ Ahnenerbe had collected much of the materials, and it suggested that Himmler’s research institute might have been formed with the sole purpose of collecting information to assist with Red Falcon. It was yet another thread in the dark web of Red Falcon that had been concealed for nearly three quarters of a century.

  The books filled 12 floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and fell into a few basic categories, the predominant one being ancient languages and symbols. The rest were a mishmash of occult, folklore, and ciphers and code breaking books. He estimated there were between 6,000 and 8,000 volumes in the library and realized his life was too short to read them all.

  A much larger, multilingual team, with experts in ancient languages would have been needed for a thorough investigation. Horace and Sylvia had the same impression, and agreed that they should concentrate their efforts on the things on the table, which included 13 bound books, 21 notebooks, and over 30 file folders.

  Although reluctant to disturb anything, they finally assembled around the large table and collected and organized the materials. Silvia started with the books, Horace the file folders, and Daniel the notebooks.

  The heavy wooden chairs around the table had high backs, forcing them to sit erect. Very Nazi-like, Daniel thought.

  He selected a notebook at random and was shocked by what he saw on the very first page. It was a hand sketch of the beacon, with squiggly lines around its bulbous head as if it were transmitting a signal. It must have just been a doodle, as the next pages were filled with symbols and translations, but it proved unequivocally that the people at the base had been aware of the beacon. This one had the name Handel Schluter written in the inside cover. Daniel didn’t recognize the name. He put a sticky-note on the notebook, labeling it as “Number 1,” and wrote a description of it in his own notebook. Later, he’d transfer his handwritten notes to his computer. Although each of them had some knowledge of German, Horace being the strongest in this regard, it was clear they’d need the translators.

  The next notebook had belonged to Josef Mengele. His name was written in the inside cover and dated May 10th, 1946. If anything, the mystery of Mengele’s disappearance after the war was partially solved. He’d been spotted in Argentina, and other South American countries, but South America had not been his only home.

  Mengele’s notes focused mostly on the torture facility. Prisoners restrained inside the cage-like devices had been told to do the impossible: push over an object out of their reach, or read something that was visually obstructed. Each time they failed, something awful would happen – they’d be burned, shocked, or a body part would be amputated. The cages – crude Exoskeletons – had built-in mechanisms that could be cranked with a wrench to break bones.

  The worst thing Daniel ever imagined was described in Mengele’s handwriting as his own invention. It was the device that had scared the hell out of them when the main power circuits had been energized. Mengele had called it the Nascher, the best English translation being “Nibbler.” It was a cuff-like device that fit around a subject’s appendage, with a circular blade that would pass flush against the opening of a steel cylinder, cutting off whatever protruded. After making a cut, a motor would slide the device up a preset amount and saw off another piece. The Nibbler would slowly eat its victim alive. The operator would simply set it up in the evening, starting at the tip of the fingers or toes and, when he’d come back in the morning, said appendage would be piled on the floor in neatly cut pieces. In order to stop the victim from bleeding to death, the device compressed the limb, acting like a tourniquet. They’d thought of everything. Daniel shuddered.

  Subjects could turn off the Nibbler any time they wished. A large, red “stop button” was on the opposite wall, just 10 feet away. All they had to do was push it, as Daniel had done when the device powered up in the torture room. The problem was that the Nazis’ subjects had to do it while confined to their Exoskeletons. The only way to stop the torture was to separate. Only the person’s soul could turn off the horrific machine. According to Mengele, it had happened multiple times, but he’d never directly witnessed it. It had always occurred overnight, and was only repeated by one unnamed subject.

  Mengele’s frustration was apparent in his writing. He’d become so irate at one particular subject for not explaining how his device had been turned off that he’d gone into a rage and shot him multiple times, killing him.

  The facility had been operated by a team of torture specialists. Mengele had mentioned the individuals by name in his notes, and they had their own notebooks – there were at least four others. He wondered if any of them were still alive.

  Daniel looked away from his reading as one of the crew entered the library. “Captain wants you all to come in for the night,” the man said.

  Daniel looked at his watch and was surprised to see it was 1:15 a.m.

  “He said you all should get some food and rest,” the sailor added.

  They’d taken a break for dinner around 6:00 p.m., but the time had flown by since then. Sylvia stretched her arms above her head and yawned. Horace looked exhausted and somewhat peaked.

  “I’m ready for both,” Sylvia said as she picked up a book with yellowing papers sticking out of it and stuck it under her arm.

  Horace stood and tucked a file folder under his own. He looked a bit better after he straightened himself to his full height.

  They went to the North Dakota’s mess hall. The odor of the sub’s interior was more obvious after being outside for a while, but the smell of food masked it.

  While they ate, they discussed what they’d learned from the day’s work.

  “The symbols written on the white stone are a set of instructions,” Sylvia said. “The Nazis had decoded a part of it – but I’ve only located fragments and short phrases, all written in German. We need to bring a translator tomorrow.”

  “Were you able to read any of it?” Horace asked.

  “The term ‘drum’
had been mentioned several times,” Sylvia said. “But I don’t understand the context.”

  “How were they able to decode it?” Daniel asked.

  “Some of the symbols were a variation of Egyptian hieroglyphics,” Sylvia explained. “But there were more hieroglyphs – entirely new or modified – than what were known at the time.”

  “Strange,” Horace said. “If true, it means whoever translated it had more knowledge than they should have had at the time, or they’d simply made guesses.”

  “I doubt they guessed,” Daniel said.

  “What have you learned, Daniel?” Horace asked.

  Daniel told them about what he’d found in the notebooks.

  “It’s consistent with what I’ve been reading,” Horace said. “The files on the table were those of the most promising subjects – those who had demonstrated unusual behavior during their treatments. The Nazis had collected those files for some reason.”

  “A planned event?” Daniel speculated.

  “Perhaps,” Horace said. “But what?”

  Daniel shook his head. “It seems they vacated on short notice.”

  They finished eating and then went to their respective quarters. Daniel wondered if he’d be able to sleep and, if he did, what nightmares would torment him through the night.

  10

  Wednesday, 3 June (1:42 a.m. CST – Baton Rouge)

  Zhichao Cho set down the phone and walked out to the balcony of his apartment. His heart thumped a dull pain into his eyes and he took a drink of scotch. He pulled out a Cuban cigar, lit it, and then put it out. He had to be patient, but the hardest thing to do was wait – especially considering the prize that awaited him. At first, he hardly believed how easy it was. But then he realized that the man was seeking him as well. They were like two charges of opposite sign finding their way to each other. Thompson had already been on the Syncorp site.