Final Mission: Zion - A World War 2 Thriller

by Chuck Driskell

  Closing his eyes, Neil tried to think like his best friend. What would have had meaning to Neil? What clue might Jakey have left Neil that would be triggered by some sort of meaning?

  And why would he have chosen a Hemingway book?

  Neil rattled off the facts: Hemingway was a veteran. He had a succinct writing style. He often wrote about Europe. Neil and Jakey had first discovered his writing when they were in Paris.

  Paris.

  Neil kicked the books aside until he again found the large picture book. Predictably, on the cover was a gold embossed image of the Eiffel Tower, similar to the one on Jakey’s lighter. He opened the book, riffling through the pages, finding nothing. Neil rubbed his face, unsure of what to do. Gabi pushed into the crowded room, kneeling on the bed so that her arms reached over Neil’s shoulders. She turned the book back so that they could view the page inside the front cover. In the spot where people often write their name, or a note if the book is a gift, were the words “Sweet Dreams” in black ink. The words were stark and appeared to have been penned recently. The handwriting was Jakey’s.

  Neil whipped his head to Madeline. “Which side of the bed did Jakey sleep on?”

  “Right where you are.”

  Neil jerked Jakey’s pillow from the bed, shaking it. He threw it across the room and pulled the thin mattress off the bed frame. No book. Again he looked under the bed. Nothing but dust bunnies. Undeterred, Neil stared at each person until a thought came to him. Once, during a block of instruction on covert measures in Lancashire, England, the instructor taught the select students how to hide objects in a mattress. Neil pulled the mattress to him, carefully running his fingers through the seams until he found a small opening. The thread had been cut and removed, and only a meticulous inspection would have yielded the discovery. He pressed his fingers into the slit, his fingers passing the stuffing until they impacted something hard. He pinched his fingers together, grasping its thickness, removing a battered book, holding it up for everyone to see.

  On the green spine, printed in silver, was The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway.

  Madeline put her hand over her mouth, suppressing a sound that was both a laugh and a cry.

  Jakey’s hour had come.

  Neil asked to be alone. Grudgingly, the assembled group moved away, climbing the stairs as he pushed the door shut behind them. Schatze curled up beside him, keeping her eyes on her master. The solitary bulb swayed gently, moved by the breeze from the door. Neil steadied it, writing on a tablet with a thick pencil. He placed the splayed envelope to his right, studying the code for a moment as he ran his hand underneath.

  “What do you have to tell me, Jakey?”

  12-32 50-90 13-1 101-27 28-5 37-10 67-8 91-41 28-78 34-3 51-17 70-10 70-10

  Jacob “Jakey” Herman’s best friend went to work, flipping to page twelve, using the pencil to mark the letters as he counted. The first letter was an S. Again, Neil ran the possibilities in his head as he turned to the fiftieth page. The next letter would need to be a vowel or an H, L, N, P, Q, T, or W. A few other scant possibilities existed, but in such a short message, he doubted it.

  The word was coast, the 90th letter an “O.”

  Neil’s heart leapt. This had to be the correct book. Even after finding the book hidden in the mattress, having endured such a roadblock-laden voyage, Neil had begun to feel uncharacteristically discouraged at every turn. Now, however, he knew he was at the precipice of a major turning point. Jakey’s puzzle was about to be revealed. Concrete plans could be made. People set in motion. Actions taken.

  Children saved.

  Neil took his time, penciling each letter before going back and double-checking his work. Two letters became four, four became seven, and before five minutes passed, the simple thirteen-letter code was cracked.

  SOUTHMINEHALL

  He lifted the pad of paper, cocking his eye.

  Southminehall?

  Neil bellowed for everyone to come back, which they did. Quickly. A herd of buffalo would have created less of a racket.

  Doctor Kraabe pressed his way to the front, donning the spectacles hanging from the chain around his neck. He held the pad away, staring at it, trying to make sense of it. After a protracted period of thought, he removed his glasses and looked at Neil, shaking his head in bewilderment.

  Neil squeezed his eyes shut.

  The Heinzes looked at it. Peter spewed a few ideas that were gently rejected. Gabi stared at Neil, a calming smile on her face. “Relax,” she told him without saying a word. Neil touched her hand and nodded.

  Madeline took the pad. She was shorter than everyone, even Peter, allowing them all to peer over her shoulder as she rotated the pad, looking for any other way the message might be read. Just as she appeared ready to give up, she squawked like a bird, following it with laughter.

  “What?” Neil demanded.

  “So simple,” she laughed, and cried.

  “Apparently not to me,” Neil remarked.

  “This is typical Jakey Herman…sweet and simple. Where’s the pencil?”

  Neil placed it in her hand and they all watched as she drew vertical lines between South and Mine and Hall.

  South Mine Hall.

  “I’d seen those three words,” Neil said, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt. “But they didn’t make sense to me.”

  Madeline turned to the doctor, her eyes boring into his. “Think, doctor. Think about each word.” After a moment, recognition flooded his face. He smiled triumphantly and smacked his forehead.

  “What?” asked Neil. “What the hell does it mean?”

  Madeline was momentarily overcome by the final message from Jakey. Gabi rubbed Madeline’s shoulders as she gathered herself, finally regaining her composure.

  “Jakey wants us to go to the south mine in Hall. Hall is the name of a town. It’s ten kilometers to the east. Like the hundreds of other stripped-out mines around here, that mine was abandoned years ago. It’s where my papa first worked as a teen.”

  “Would that be a suitable place to hide the children?”

  Madeline wiped her tears, nodding. “It is, as far as remoteness and privacy is concerned. The Salzburg train passes near the mine, but otherwise, it’s very difficult to reach.”

  After several minutes of celebration, Neil silenced everyone. The moment was steeped in significance, especially considering the heartbreak endured by Madeline and the Heinz children. “I’m sorry for what each of you has endured. The losses in this room are overwhelming.”

  He allowed that to sink in before he eyed each person, poking a rigid finger into the palm of his hand for emphasis. “We’re very close, but this is where it gets tricky. If we foul just one thing up, all of our efforts, all of Jakey’s efforts, and those who’ve died, will have been in vain.” Neil paused. “Those children are counting on us.”

  Madeline motioned up the stairs. “It’s already dark out. And with all the rain, I don’t think I’d attempt to find it tonight.”

  “There’s still time,” Doctor Kraabe added. “One more night won’t harm them. I trust Jacob’s calculations. He would not have made an error.”

  After vigorously rubbing his face, Neil nodded. “Could you please have your lady put on some coffee? We’ve much work to do. And I need to ring Oberst Falkenberg.”

  ~~~

  Doctor Kraabe drove his Mercedes painfully slow. Peter again sat in the front floorboard, seemingly brighter on this pleasant September morning. Neil, however, felt none too comfortable, contorted into an odd position on the rear floor of the luxury automobile, his mind awash in all that needed to be done. He felt like they had been driving for an hour.

  Neil closed his eyes, picturing Gabi having a discussion with Emilee. How would they greet one another? What would they talk about? Neil believed Emilee would like Gabi, once she got over the fact he was involved with her. She would at first think Gabi was too young—that would, without a doubt, be her first comment. Neil smiled to himself, thin
king of the hell Emilee would give him. But after some time, Neil could imagine Emilee hugging him, resting her chin on his shoulder, telling him she only wanted him to be happy. If Neil had died first, he would have wanted the same for her.

  Last night, at Madeline’s urging, Neil and Gabi slept in Madeline and Jakey’s bed. They didn’t make love. They stayed up until well after midnight, the cellar room pitch black as they lay there, facing one another, baring their souls. Neil talked about Emilee, and Lex Curran, and some of the things he regretted from his past life as an assassin. While he had once easily justified his secret life, meting out justice in the name of his country’s best interest, now he wasn’t so sure. After seeing the way the Nazi government was treating the Jews and other humans they considered undesirable, Neil realized how dangerous a violent régime could be. What gave them the right to eliminate a human being that had done nothing wrong? And how was Neil much different? Who was he to judge who was an enemy of his country? Had he killed some unsavory men? Sure. Was he right in doing so? Two months before, in the buzz between his drunkest moments, he would have said yes.

  “And now?” Gabi had asked him.

  “I wasn’t right. While I thought I knew for sure the bad those men had done, I rarely saw it with my own eyes.”

  His mind had turned to Preston Lord, the architect of the team. Lord had determined who was eliminated, Neil’s team simply followed through.

  Neil recalled a request in the waning days of 1935, before Cleveland Mixton’s cancer and before Neil’s grief. Some of the killings had begun to seem a bit gray. Lord’s next target turned out to be an overstuffed lawyer from Maryland—his sins against the state were allegedly buried so deeply that only a man with Lord’s considerable power might find them. Neil had been suspicious, and his discreet query uncovered proceedings between the lawyer, his client, and Preston Lord’s family fortune.

  It was then Neil realized he and his team had been nothing more than a cat’s paw for Lord. His team fancied themselves like a bishop, or perhaps a rook, striking from great distance on the chess board, true power players.

  Now, upon detached reflection, they seemed to have been nothing more than Lord’s pawns.

  Nonessential.

  Disposable.

  It surprised Neil that Lord hadn’t ordered him killed before now. And what was Lord doing here that was critical enough to merit a personal visit?

  Neil reflected on his own reason for being here. While, at first, Neil was a bit taken aback by the simplicity of what he had been brought here to do, he’d finally come around to examining the underlying reasoning. It was upright. It was the right thing to do. These were children, innocent children. They should have every right to live. And every chance.

  “Do you still believe you made the right decision in coming here?” Gabi had asked.

  “Absolutely.” Neil had propped up on his elbow. “Do you remember the picture of the little girl you asked me about?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her name is Fern.” Neil recalled the story of how he’d come to have Fern’s picture. “When I think about that frail little girl, I think about the son I never knew.”

  Neil and Gabi held each other for a while before, out of the blue, Gabi began to cry, the pain of her mother’s death finding her in the blackness.

  Preston Lord had struck again. Thankfully she cried herself to sleep.

  The Mercedes slowed to a stop, bringing Neil back to the present and the mission at hand.

  “This is as far as I can drive,” Doctor Kraabe said.

  “Am I clear to get up?” Neil whispered.

  Peter leaned over the seat. “I’ll say. We’re in the middle of a dark forest.”

  Neil opened the rear door, veritably tumbling out of the car. He stood and stretched, rubbing the scars on his side before taking the map from the front seat. Glancing around, he saw that they were in a shallow depression, and parallel to the rocky road was a trickling brook. Once he located their position on the map, he put his finger where the mine opening should be, on the other side of what the map represented as heavy relief. He pointed to the dashes of blue sky over the ridge, capped by tall pine trees, telling them that the mine’s mouth should be right over the hill.

  “How did the workers get there every day?” Peter asked.

  Neil waited for the doctor to answer. When he didn’t, Neil spoke as he retrieved the implements and lanterns from the boot of the Mercedes. “Peter, from what Madeline told me, the mine workers here were only one step up from captive slaves. They were probably taken in by train and forced to work incredibly long hours with no option to leave. I’d hazard that they even had armed guards at the mouth of the cave.”

  “That’s no way to treat people.”

  Neil and Doctor Kraabe shared a look. Neil tousled the teenager’s hair. “Well, that’s why we’re here today. That’s why we need your best, Peter.”

  The three men set out up the steep, pine needle-covered incline. Doctor Kraabe had brought a large bag full of medical supplies in case they were needed. As they walked, Peter peppered both men with numerous questions, many of them reflective of a mind that was advanced beyond Peter’s age. Doctor Kraabe, seeming to enjoy the academic queries, fed Peter from a seemingly endless supply of hard candies he kept in his pocket. Neil answered what questions he could, more concerned with checking behind them. No one was following.

  The ridge was more than a small hill. It was the spine leading to one of the high mountains surrounding the valley. The mountain was three times higher than the ridge, but when hiked from the valley floor, with an older man, a teenager, and a recently injured man in middle age—all carrying implements and supplies—the climb was arduous.

  After a water break on the ridge, the trio descended a rock path, following an overgrown trail through brambles to a wide gravel opening. And there, in the side of a sheer limestone face, were two entrances. The wide entrance was covered with heavy, dried tree trunks, held by massive metal posts. It would take either a crane or ten men to remove each log. To the left of the wide entrance was a short, medieval door-sized entrance, covered only with heavy timbers. Various hand painted signs warned the good Volk of Tyrol to keep away. According to the person who had painted the signs, there was a danger of asphyxiation, danger of cave-ins, danger of floods. Someone, using different paint, had added that the resident dragon, named Wilhelm, was quite friendly, though.

  Neil pulled in great breaths through his nose. Wood smoke. The gentle breeze was coming from the south, from the spine they’d just traversed. The mine seemed to wind under the spine. If the children were indeed here, they could vent a fire through one of the many vertical air vents. Neil looked for the origin of the smoke but couldn’t see it.

  He moved close to the large entrance and noted fresh gouges on the timbers of the smaller opening. Someone had moved them recently.

  Neil gave Peter the task of getting the two lanterns lit while he and Kraabe removed the timbers from the small doorway. It was nearly high noon by the time they were ready to enter. Neil went first, followed by Peter, then the doctor. The smaller door led to a similarly shaped tunnel. The smell of earth and something else, an acrid odor, was immediately noticeable. As they moved inside, the temperature plummeted. Every hundred feet or so were arched passages, on the right, connecting with the main tunnel. The smaller tunnel was supported with iron and wood, while the large tunnel was cut straight from the limestone.

  Neil made his two helpers wait at each access passage while he checked for signs of life. First passage. Nothing. Second passage. Nothing. Eighth. Nothing. Twelfth. Nothing. But the smell of smoke was stronger. By the time they’d reached the seventeenth access passage, they had to creep due to the ice. It was there that Neil again passed through, expecting the same damp blackness he’d been encountering at each passage.

  But this time there were crates filling the void. Hundreds of them.

  Neil turned, his voice straining as he told the doctor and
Peter to stay put. Nothing appeared outwardly dangerous, but he didn’t want Peter or the doctor to die because of a booby trap.

  Confused, Neil walked to a long, narrow box, situated at the highest point of the rows and rows of boxes and crates. The box was made of pine, a swastika burned into the top. On the side it was marked: Deutsche Waffen und Munitions Fabrik, Berlin/Potsdam. He moved his lantern around the crate, seeing nothing that would indicate a booby trap. Following a deep breath, he opened the box, finding twenty shiny-new Parabellum Pistols, held dress-right-dress by an inner rack. He closed it and reset the hasp. Shutting his eyes, Neil lifted the crate. Nothing.

  Did the same in the next row, rifles, nothing.

  Grenades, nichts.

  An impossibly heavy crate holding only four MG-34’s. No booby trap.

  He could hear Peter and Kraabe scraping around, probably getting impatient.

  Neil walked behind the rows of crates, moving his lantern to the depths of the tunnel. There was no sign of any children or their caretakers. And the smoke smell was powerful.

  Suddenly, Neil realized there was no ice here. A few hundred feet back, in the smaller tunnel, there had been. Figuring Kraabe and Peter had turned back, Neil began to walk deeper in the tunnel. It wasn’t far until he saw the lumps.

  Halting, the lantern swaying, it only took a moment for Neil to realize the lumps were human beings. A brief jag of dread went through him as he thought they might be dead. But after just a short moment, Neil saw one of the lumps move. The lump was a little boy of perhaps four. He lifted his head, the irises of his eyes illuminated by the lantern. Then, as if he knew he’d disobeyed, he buried his head in his arms and burrowed between those around him.

  Neil lifted the lantern. The children, and their caretakers, went on as far as he could see.

  Speaking German, Neil’s voice cracked as he said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m your friend. I’m Jacob Herman’s friend. I’m here with others. We’ve come to rescue you.”

  Numerous heads popped up and Neil couldn’t help but laugh with joy.