Axel nodded, accepting Holger’s reasoning and the doctor’s promise to return for his friends. Dr. Holger drove away as soldiers rushed from the facility after them. The car sped down the road as fast as it would go.
Chapter 3
The green army jeep pulled up to the nondescript gray building west of Berlin. The white star on its side clearly identified the jeep as American. Julian Hayes swung his legs down to the ground and stepped out. His younger companion, Thomas Flemming, followed suit. Though they both wore army green, it was evident to anyone watching that Tom, as his friends called him, and Professor Hayes were not military. In fact, they were officers in the science division of the Office of Strategic Services, known more commonly as the OSS.
Formed by President Roosevelt in 1941 to coordinate American intelligence between the different military branches, the OSS had become the primary intelligence service of the United States during the war. Now that the German army was decimated with the Allies closing in on both sides of Berlin, the race was on to snatch up any and all Nazi intelligence, military secrets, and scientific advancements and discoveries.
Nazi Germany had been surprisingly advanced in their scientific achievements, leaving many to wonder if they had been supplied with information from some other source—an otherworldly source. Professor Hayes and his associate, Tom, did not know how the Germans had made so many technological advancements so quickly, but it was their job to find out.
The two OSS officers and their colleagues in the science division were tasked with collecting as much of Nazi Germany’s scientific documents, plans, and even scientists as they could before the Soviets got their hands on them. Despite the fact that the The United States and the Soviet Union were currently allies, it did not take a crystal ball to predict that their alliance would not long survive the end of hostilities with the Axis powers. Thus, neither side wasted time in confiscating all they could from their conquered enemy.
As Hayes stepped around the front of the jeep, he was met by an eager young captain. “Good afternoon, sir,” the young officer said. “My name’s Captain Smith.”
The captain’s platoon had discovered the building earlier that day and realized that what was inside might be of value. After contacting his command, he was ordered to secure the building and wait for the OSS to send someone out.
“Nice to meet you, Captain,” Hayes said as he extended his hand. “Julian Hayes.” The captain shook the professor’s hand and Hayes nodded to his companion. “And this is Thomas Flemming.”
“Nice to meet you both,” the captain said. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”
“So, what have you got here?” Tom asked.
“You tell me,” the captain smiled. “I have no idea, but it looks important.”
“Well, let’s see it then,” Hayes said.
Captain Smith nodded. “Right this way, gentlemen,” he said as he motioned for the door.
The first floor of the building was nothing unusual. Empty offices lined the long hallway, with desks clear and chairs tucked neatly underneath. Captain Smith led the OSS officers down a long corridor, past the offices, and up the stairs to the second floor. There they found a lab and from what Professor Hayes could tell, based on the instruments, it appeared to be used for medical experimentation. They soon came to a door that had clearly been broken in, the wood from the frame cracked and splintered.
“When we arrived, it was locked,” Smith informed them with a shrug and Hayes and Tom nodded their understanding. They strode past what appeared to be empty examination rooms, with cold steel tables topped with white cushions, until they finally stepped through double doors into another lab.
Two soldiers sat in chairs reading comic books, their rifles propped unceremoniously against a desk, their helmets lying on the floor at their feet. When the two noticed the captain and OSS officers they quickly sprang to their feet, snapping to attention, the comic books still in hand. Captain Smith rolled his eyes at his men reading comic books and was about to lead Hayes across the room when Hayes thought he recognized one of the covers of the comics.
“What are you reading?” Hayes asked.
“Umm, comic books, sir,” one soldier said slightly embarrassed.
“I can see that, soldier,” Hayes said with a kind smile. “What comic books?”
The first soldier held his comic book up. “Superman, sir.” Hayes crossed over to the soldier and took the magazine from him, flipping through its pages.
“Someone from back home send this to you?” he asked.
“Uh, no sir. We found a whole stack of ‘em here in the lab.”
Hayes titled his head. “You found a stack of Superman comic books?”
“Yes, sir,” the soldier said. “And others. They even have Captain America.”
“That is odd,” Hayes said as he frowned down at the magazine.
“Why is that odd, sir?” the other soldier asked.
“Well, I’m sure the oddity of Captain America comics in a Nazi installation needs no explanation, but moreover, the Nazi’s banned comic books as smut and trash. Superman comic books were especially derided due to the fact that the character was created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.” The soldiers cocked their heads to look at him quizzically. “They are Jewish,” Hayes explained and then the soldiers’ eyes showed understanding. “Very interesting. Thank you, young man.” Hayes smiled as he handed the comic book back to the soldier before rejoining Captain Smith and Tom across the room.
The Captain stood near a wall that had five doors to different rooms. One could peak into the rooms through a small glass window in the doors. The first had no indicators on the door and appeared to be empty except for two small cots, the beds made neatly. The second and third were the same. The fourth door was similar except that the beds were unmade and there were some clothes and toys inside.
Then Hayes peeked inside of the fifth room and was startled to see two young boys huddled together on one of the cots. He turned to the Captain.
“They’ve barely moved since we arrived,” Captain Smith said. Hayes glanced down and saw a file on the door. He slipped the file out and glanced at the cover. He opened it and began scanning its pages. “Do you read German?” Smith asked.
“A little,” Hayes said. He pointed to a word he did know and then showed it to Tom. Tom could pass for fluent in German, though natives would certainly realize he was foreign.
“Donar,” Tom said with a smile as he looked up at the professor.
“What is that?” Smith asked.
“It’s the German name for Thor, the Norse god of thunder and lightning.”
“Thor?” the captain said a look of confusion etched upon his face. He glanced back into the room at the young boys, terrified and on the verge of tears. “They sure don’t look like Thor to me.”
Tom continued reading the file. He glanced up and smiled. “Apparently they were codenamed Donar because they are twin brothers and one is the hammer and the other the lightning.”
“I don’t understand,” the captain said.
Professor Hayes’ eyes leapt from Tom to Captain Smith. “Have the boys eaten?”
Captain Smith shook his head. “No, we tried offering ‘em something to eat, talking to them and such, but they just sit there. Scared.”
“Thank you, Captain. We’ll take it from here. Please, keep your men at posts securing the building and all entrances and exits and in the downstairs offices. We’ll let you know if we need something.”
The captain nodded. “Certainly, sir.” He then spun on his heel and motioned for the two soldiers to follow him as he stepped through the door, leaving Hayes and Tom alone with the boys.
Professor Hayes watched them go and then turned to Tom. “Clearly this is some kind of Nazi genetics lab,” he said and Tom nodded. “We already know they’ve been trying to create super humans and I don’t have to remind you of the evidence of the bastards’ experiments on their prisoners.” Tom swallowed hard as he remembere
d the camp they had found days before and the brutality they had seen. “God only knows what these boys have been through. So let’s take it slow.”
“I agree,” Tom said as he peered through the window at the two young boys staring back at him.
Hayes reached into the inside pocket of his army jacket and pulled out two chocolate bars handing them to Tom. “Your German is much better than mine so you take the lead.” Tom nodded. “Of course, if we discover they are fluent in Latin or ancient Sumerian, I’ll take over.” Tom laughed and then slowly pushed the door open. He stepped inside.
“It’s alright,” Tom said in German as he smiled kindly at the boys. “We’re not going to hurt you.” Tom stopped moving closer and squatted down on the floor to be more eye level with them instead of looking down upon them in an imposing manner. “My name is Tom and this is Professor Hayes,” he said as he pointed with his thumb at the older man over his shoulder.
Hayes smiled at them and gave a little wave.
“Your names are Axel and Rolf?” Tom asked, remembering the names from the file he had read. The boys nodded. “Which one of you is Axel?”
The smaller boy raised his hand gently and Tom saw his mouth quiver and knew he was about to cry. “Are you from Berlin?” the boy asked, terror evident in his voice.
Tom shook his head emphatically. “No, Axel, we’re Americans.” At that Axel’s lips stopped quivering instantly and he and Rolf smiled. “You know what Americans are?” Tom asked.
The boys nodded. “Dr. Holger said Americans were good, that they would help us when they came. That they would keep us from the bad men in Berlin.”
Tom and Hayes both nodded, smiling. “Dr. Holger was right. We will. We are here to help you, Axel. Both of you. And I promise, the bad men in Berlin will never hurt you again.” Both boys began to cry, but this time they cried tears of relief. Tom held up the candy. “Would you two like a chocolate bar?” he asked with a smile.
Rolf didn’t wait for Axel, he leapt off the bed and dashed over to Tom accepting the bar from him and then throwing his arms around Tom’s neck. Axel joined his brother in hugging Tom, though he was a little more timid. Tom patted their backs. “Okay, eat your chocolate now and we’ll try to find you a proper dinner.”
The boys nodded as they tore hungrily into the candy wrappers. Tom stood and Hayes smiled proudly at him when he noticed that Tom was wiping tears from his own eyes.
Hayes placed a fatherly hand on the younger man’s shoulder and leaned close. “I’m glad to see that through all the hell you have seen over here, you have not lost your humanity, Thomas.”
Tom nodded. He turned back to the little boys and smiled at them. He was so glad they had been able to rescue them.
Chapter 4
Santiago, Chile
1965
The pretty young woman stood at the corner of a street intently examining a map, her face a mix of confusion and frustration. She kept glancing up, around and then back down at her map clearly unable to determine her whereabouts or how to find wherever it was that she needed to go. Michael sat at a small table at an outdoor cafe, sipping his coffee, nondescript in his light blue jacket and white pants. He chuckled to himself as he watched her, all the while pretending to be more interested in the newspaper he held. She was pretty with light, reddish brown hair and a red jacket and skirt over long black stockings. Michael admired her gams.
The young woman glanced up at him and his eyes quickly darted back down to the paper, in an attempt to avoid eye contact. He continued pretending to read, hoping she had not noticed him. Unfortunately, it was too late for any pretenses. She had noticed him and breezed over. “Pardon,” she said sweetly in an American accent. “Directions? Por favor,” she asked in a bad attempt at a mixture of English and Spanish. Michael glanced up to her with an amused chuckle. She let her arms drop to her sides in exasperation. “Do you speak English?” she asked, hopefully, but clearly not expecting him to.
He shook his head with a small smile touching his lips. “Very little,” he said. He was surprised to see her eyes widen and a broad smile spread across her face. It was a beautiful and familiar smile.
She switched languages once more, this time speaking in German. “Is that a German accent I hear?”
Michael cleared his throat and glanced around to see who else might be listening, but did not see anyone paying them any attention. He shook his head from side to side. “No, no,” he said, “Austrian.”
“But you do speak German?” He nodded, reluctantly. “Oh thank heavens,” she said with a sigh. “I never could grasp the romantic languages—always putting their words in the wrong order,” she said with a laugh that was much too boisterous. “May I sit?” she asked, but then sat without waiting for permission.
He smiled to himself. Americans. “Would you like some coffee?” he asked his new companion.
“No, thank you,” she replied shaking her head. Then she smiled happily at him like she had known him for years. “My father was German, so I speak it almost fluently.”
He nodded. “Yes, your German is very good.”
“I am Alena,” she said. “With an ‘A’.” She smiled again, that ditsy tourist smile Americans always seemed to manage. “My mother was a Slav,” she said to explain the spelling of her name.
This caught Michael off guard and he sat back in his chair and stared at her for a quick moment. Something was wrong and he knew it. A seemingly American girl in her early to mid-twenties who spoke perfect German, with a German father and Slavic mother who just happened upon him at a cafe in Santiago? That seemed an odd coincidence. Besides all that, she looked eerily familiar to him. He forced a smile once again and then reached forward and lifted his cup of coffee draining its contents quickly. He then folded his paper, placed it under his arm, and stood.
“It was a great pleasure making your acquaintance, Alena,” he said with a slight bow. “However, I am afraid I must be going.” He turned on his heel and hurried quickly away.
“Wait,” she shouted after him in German. “You never told me your name,” she said.
“Michael!” he shouted back to her over his shoulder. “Good-day.” He hurried as fast as he could, crossing the street and glancing over his shoulder as he did so. Alena still sat at the cafe and had apparently returned to studying her map. She stared at it intently and seemed completely uninterested in him. She was certainly not rushing to follow him. His breathing began to slow to normal, though his pace did not. Maybe he had been wrong about her. Maybe it was all coincidence, but that did not mean he couldn’t hurry on his way anyway.
He decided that he would take a long walk around the city today, just in case someone was following him. It was always better to be cautious. He scolded himself for becoming lackadaisical the last few years. Walking the same routes, taking coffee at the same cafes. He had grown far too comfortable here over the last two decades. He needed to once again start presuming he was being followed and take precautions to give anyone who might be out there the slip. Then, hopefully, if someone actually was following him, he would lose them. He hurried three more blocks taking long strides, before turning to the right. He walked just a few steps and turned to glance over his shoulder again. When he turned back to face forward, he jerked to a halt as he almost collided with Alena. She smiled at him. He stared at her with his eyes wide and his mouth agape. His skin turned pale with fright and he felt goose bumps dancing up his arms. How had she moved ahead of him so fast?
“I never got a chance to ask you for directions,” she said in German. Her tone was conversational and completely non-threatening. Still, she frightened him.
“I-I am afraid I do not know my way around the city,” Michael stammered before turning and running out in front of traffic to cross the street. Drivers blared their horns as they slammed their brakes to avoid colliding with him. As Michael reached the other side of the street he glanced back over his shoulder, but again saw no one pursuing him. In fact the girl just stood where
he had left her, casually leaning against a building, watching him as he ran. She had a knowing smirk on her face and it chilled him.
Michael did not slow, but instead quickened his pace, dropping his newspaper as he fled Alena and whomever else might be following him. He realized, that if this woman was here for him, and now he was almost certain that she was, that she would not be alone. He ran several blocks, wending and winding through the city, making several turns and running in a zigzag pattern to throw any pursuers off his trail. He then entered a busy market, made his way through it, pushing past tourists, customers, and vendors alike before finally stepping out on the other side. He took this opportunity to glance around to see if he saw her. He did not, so he turned back around to walk away from the market.
Michael’s heart leapt into his throat. As he turned, she stood right in front of him as if she had just appeared from nowhere. Michael jumped back, startled. “Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you want?” He was afraid he already knew the answer to the second question.
“I told you,” she said, “my name is Alena.” She smiled a coy smile. “Of course twenty years ago you knew me by another name, just as I knew you by another name, Herr Colonel,” she said.
His eyes widened. Now it all made sense. He knew how she kept getting in front of him and he knew why he recognized her. She looked exactly like her mother.
“Kristel,” he whispered through dry lips.
Alena nodded, her smile changing from coy to wolfish. “Ah, you do remember me, Colonel Arnulf.” She took a confident step toward him, as a lioness would step toward a gazelle. Arnulf stepped backward, away from her, reaching into his coat pocket and removing a pistol. He was still quick on the draw after all of these years and fired as soon as the pistol was pointed at her. Alena was too fast, however, and disappeared in a flash, safely away from the bullets. Arnulf scanned the area, but did not see where she had run. He spun around, dashing back into the market hoping to lose her in the mass of people there. He could not outrun her, he knew that, so he had to lose her.
Origins of the Prime Page 4
