Soul Intent

by dennis batchelder

  “Your grandfather told me he climbed down the shaft, but when he reached the bottom, he found the chute full of water. In it floated the cut-off piece of the rope, strung through the belt-loops of an empty pair of trousers.”

  A chill ran up Flora’s spine.

  Callaghan was silent for a long minute. Then he spoke in a soft voice. “They reckoned the other miners had gone crazy and had mistaken the lad for food, and God had drowned them for their cannibalism. The foreman had the shaft plugged, never knowing about the opal nest.” Callaghan paused and then said, “Old Raddy told me that on the nights of the new moon, you could still hear that boy’s scream echoing up from the shaft, pleading with the miners.”

  The three of them sat and stared at the fire. Then Dieter looked up. “Is it true, sir?”

  Major Callaghan shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. But I’d trade me arm and leg for an hour in that opal nest.”

  forty-one

  Present Day

  Dubnik Mine, Slovakia

  Just as Madame Flora finished, George drove the van into the clearing and parked.

  “Welcome to Dubnik Mine,” George said. “Once the only known source of opals, and now an important refuge for five thousand Euro-bats.”

  Marie shuddered. “There will be bats flying around us?”

  “They live in another section,” George said. “We shouldn’t see too many.”

  I shot a quick glance at Val, but the mention of the bats didn’t seem to bother her.

  George had parked halfway up the side of a tree-covered hill. A set of narrow gauge railroad tracks ran past a dilapidated wooden building and into an opening in the hill the size of a front door. Two rusted ore carts sat on the rails, close to the mine entrance.

  Madame Flora was the last to climb out. She stood on the van door’s threshold and looked around. “Nothing much has changed in the last six decades,” she declared.

  “This is where you camped?” Rose asked.

  “Right by the entrance,” she said. She pointed to the building. “That shack had a roof on it, and there’s more trees on the hills, but the rest is pretty much the same.”

  Archie walked to the opening and turned back to face us. “This is where you buried the gold, Flora?”

  She nodded. She had a grim look on her face.

  Marie came up and put her arm on Madame Flora’s shoulder. “We’ll get it out for you, Grandma.”

  “If it is still in there,” Archie said.

  “It’s in there,” Madame Flora said. “I can smell it.”

  A small blue Skoda hatchback drove up and parked next to the van. A young man in jeans, boots, and a blue sweater got out. A blond ponytail hung halfway down his back. He popped his trunk, unloaded six large plastic cases, and stacked them close to the entrance.

  George and Sue walked over and shook his hand. The air was chilly, and their breath came out in puffs as they talked.

  Then George headed over to us. “Come and meet Cesar,” he said. “We’re renting the diving suits and rebreathers from him.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I told him that Scott and Val are super-rich celebrities, here to have some very private fun.”

  Some cover story.

  “Are you diving with us?” I asked Cesar.

  He shook his head. “I’m only delivering the equipment. Mr. George paid extra money for your exclusive and private use of our site.” He smiled, and with a jerk of his head, he flipped his ponytail over his shoulder. “It’s beautiful diving in the mine.”

  “How many times have you been down there?” I asked.

  “Not nearly enough,” he said. Then he pursed his lips. “Normally we only allow cave-certified dive masters.”

  “Rose and I are certified,” Marie said.

  Cesar nodded. “Let’s do the inspection.”

  While George and Sue set up camp, Cesar opened the cases and had Val, me, and the twins examine the equipment. We tested the regulators and monitors, checked the gas mixes, and verified the work-to-breathe levels. We examined the batteries and the bailouts, then checked the dry suits.

  Once we were comfortable with the gear, we lugged the cases into the mine. It was a quarter-mile hike down from the mine’s entrance to Viliam Gallery, but to get there, we had to crawl and drag our gear through three low spots. The mine was cold, damp, and dark.

  “Why not fix the place up?” I asked Cesar.

  He turned and shone his light in my face. “And let the rest of the world ruin it? We save it for serious divers.”

  And gold diggers like us.

  He led us down a stone staircase carved out of the rock many centuries ago. We stepped off the stairs and onto a landing, and Cesar set two battery-powered lanterns on the floor. We were in a basketball court-sized cavern, standing on a ledge above a twenty foot wide shaft filled with water. Several nylon lines ran below the surface.

  Val knelt down and dipped in her hand. “It’s freezing!”

  “Three degrees Celsius,” Cesar said. “That’s why you have dry suits and full face masks.” He tied a dive light to a line and dropped it in the water. “Take a look at this.”

  The water was perfectly clear and very deep. I could see the shaft’s brown walls, fading into a deep blue at the end of the light’s reach. The nylon lines stretched down into the darkness below.

  “Take small, short kicks as you descend,” Cesar said. He dipped the end of a fin into the water by the light and sloshed it back and forth. Particles of silt broke free from the shaft’s wall, and the water went dark as the light was blocked. “See what happens? Keep it calm, or you won’t be able to see where you’re going.”

  Another thing we’d have to worry about when we dove tomorrow.

  Cesar pulled a laminated card out of his pocket. “I brought you a map of what we’ve explored,” he said. He handed the card to me. “We’ve run nylon lines to all the areas in black, so you can’t get lost. I’d advise you stay out of the red sections.”

  “Thanks,” I said. We helped him shut off the lights, and we all climbed up to the entrance.

  Back in the clearing, after Cesar drove off, I sat down with George, Archie, and Madame Flora. We clustered around a card table and studied the old map.

  Madame Flora pointed to a section in the middle portion of Viliam Gallery. “This is where we hid it.”

  I held up Cesar’s laminated card. The area she pointed to was marked in black. “I hate to be a spoil-sport,” I said, “but this area has been well-explored by the divers.”

  She shook her head. “We didn’t leave the gold in the open, Scott. Ned walled up the alcove.”

  I compared the two maps. It seemed that the back side of an alcove in the main gallery was missing from Cesar’s map. “The gold’s behind this wall?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  At least it wasn’t in a red section. I turned to George. “How do we get through the false wall?”

  “We’ll have to pull it down,” he said. “We can’t use explosives—the mine could collapse.”

  I called over Val and the twins, and the four of us looked at the two maps.

  “It’s right around fifty feet deep,” Marie said. “We’ll have to schedule decompression time.”

  “Taking down that wall will make the water murky.” Rose grabbed a pad. “We’ll need three dives—explore, penetrate, and recover.” She scribbled some numbers and looked up at George. “We should get a bit more oxygen, just in case. Can Cesar bring four more tanks?”

  George nodded. “I’ll call him tonight.”

  “How will we get the barrels out?” I asked him.

  He smiled. “I’ve gotten my hands on an underwater sled a salvage buddy of mine suggested I use.” He walked over to the back of the van and pulled out another large gray case. He unsnapped and lifted off the cover. Then he pulled back the top layer of egg crating. “Lend me a hand with this, and I’ll show you how it works.”

  I helped George unfold the sled and attach a wire-enclosed pro
peller. It took only a few minutes for us to assemble it.

  “The batteries should last you eight hours,” George said. “And it’s got an automatic buoyancy compensator—you attach a diving tank here along the side.”

  The sled was four feet long and two feet wide. We’d be able to put two or three small barrels on it at a time.

  “You guys just have to bring the barrels to the bottom of the shaft, and I’ll pull them up with my winch,” George said.

  We took the van into Presov for dinner, leaving George and Sue behind to keep an eye on the equipment. When we returned, George had a worried look on his face.

  “Cesar brought the tanks while you guys were in town. But he says the local police chief is coming out tonight for an inspection.”

  “You cleared this trip with the authorities, did you not?” Archie asked.

  “Of course, Mr. Morgan,” George said.

  Sue held up a manila folder. “I have the documentation here. For the next two days, the mine is ours.”

  I turned to George. “I think we should get the rest of our equipment underground. We don’t want the cops to think we’re about to tear up their mine.”

  “Good idea,” he said.

  We left Archie and Madame Flora above, and the rest of us hauled the winch, the sled, a bunch of communications gear, and the extra tanks below. We strung a pair of power lines for the winch and the radio. When we emerged an hour later, we saw the old couple sitting around a crackling campfire.

  It looked like we had interrupted a serious discussion. Madame Flora sat with her arms crossed, and Archie was holding his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. Both stared at the fire.

  We joined them just as a set of headlights lit up the clearing. A white Skoda with blue lights on top parked next to the van, and a tall lady with short brown hair and wearing a gray uniform got out.

  George and Sue walked over to her. After a minute, the three of them came over to the fire.

  “This is everybody?” she asked.

  George nodded. “All eight of us.”

  “Good.” She looked around the fire at each of us. “Hello. I am Dara Sabol, Presov police chief.” She spoke in a heavy accent.

  We murmured our greetings.

  She had a serious look on her face. “When I hear from Cesar your crew was to dive, I ask him why he not diving with you.”

  “Our team prefers to dive alone,” George said.

  Chief Sabol nodded. “That is same thing Cesar said.” She stared at him. “But tell me your reason.”

  “Privacy.” George pointed to me and Val. “These two are constantly hounded wherever they go. The last thing they need is a set of unflattering photographs of them in diving gear plastered over the gossip rags.”

  I wasn’t sure if Chief Sabol understood or bought it, but after a minute she nodded. “I am making sure your team is safe, and I am being ready for all emergencies. This makes extra work for my men.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Chief Sabol. We do appreciate it.”

  She shook her head. “The work will make my hands short. And holidays are coming.”

  George smiled. “We are so sorry to put you out.”

  She frowned at him.

  Sue sighed. “Just a second, ma’am.” She grabbed George’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

  “Ah!” George patted Sue’s hand and straightened up. “Chief Sabol, let me walk you back to your car.”

  The two headed away from the fire. I watched them stop at the car door. George pulled out his wallet, peeled off several bills, and handed them to her. She got in her cruiser, and he leaned in her window and talked for a few minutes.

  After the chief left, George came back chuckling. “Sometimes I’m so dense. Thank you, my dear, for reminding me to tip her.”

  Sue rolled her eyes.

  Then George let out a big rolling laugh. “Flora, you’ll appreciate this—Chief Sabol told me to be careful, as these mines apparently are the home of three vicious vampires, and many people have disappeared over the years.”

  Rose giggled. “Grandma’s story has become a legend.”

  Madame Flora snorted.

  After we set up the tents, we gathered back at the fire. I held my hands toward the flames. “Was it this cold when you were here last time?” I asked Madame Flora.

  “Colder, I should say. And our clothes and accommodations weren’t as comfortable,” she said. “I don’t think I slept a wink that night.”

  “We’ve waited long enough,” I said. “It’s time to tell us how you hid the gold.”

  forty-two

  October 1946

  Dubnik Mine, Czechoslovakia

  Flora slept wrapped around the barrels of gold and boxes of papers in her tent. Major Ned Callaghan and Dieter slept in the other. She had been listening to their snores for the past few hours.

  It wasn’t their snores keeping her awake; it was her own anticipation. By tomorrow night the gold would be safely stashed, out of the reach of Goering, the Nazis, and Soul Identity.

  Dealing with the gold seemed to make some people happy. Goering was willing to swallow cyanide, thrilled that his next self would retrieve it from the depositary. Archibald was satisfied that its deposit into the Soul Identity vaults would boost his career. Baba had earned their move to America because of it. And by helping her steal it, Major Callaghan had settled his debt with her grandfather.

  The gold didn’t bring everybody happiness, of course. It had its victims. James certainly hadn’t benefited from it, and neither did Flora’s father, nor the other Jews and Gypsies killed in the camps.

  And what about herself? Flora had thwarted its deposit into Goering’s soul line collection, but the gold hadn’t yet brought her any peace. She couldn’t begin to imagine what damage she had done to her soul with the acts she had committed bringing it this far. The SS leader and his soldier, James, Private Lee and his girlfriend, Archibald—she had used and tricked and hurt them all.

  And for what gain? Just to bury the gold? Would she ever be able to retrieve it? Would she be wise enough to return it to the victims? Would she be strong enough?

  In the early hours of the morning, before Goering’s barrels and boxes even went into the mine, while listening to the wood crackle in the fire and the men snore in their tent, Flora resolved that she would get the gold out. She would make sure it found its way into the hands of the victims’ families. She would do this, or she would die trying.

  When dawn finally broke and she heard the others stir, she crawled out of her tent. Major Callaghan sat in front of the fire. He had placed three tins on the coals. He looked up at her. “Eat all your tucker today, Flora. You’ll need the energy.”

  Dieter came out, and the three of them finished the last of the “K” rations. Then while Dieter fed and watered the horses, Flora and Callaghan pored over the map. “It looks like Viliam Gallery is the best choice,” she said.

  “We’ll have to see it ourselves to be sure.” Callaghan rubbed his hands together. “Have you been underground before?”

  “Baba and I hid in caves for years—first from the Nazis and then from the communists.”

  “So you know what to expect.” Callaghan pulled out the lamps and a rope. “I’ll get me a look-see while you and Dieter roll in the barrels.”

  Dieter tied a rope to one of the ore cars, and during the three hours while the Major scouted the mines, they used it to bring the barrels and the boxes to the top of a stone staircase. They had just hauled the ore car up for the last time and found Callaghan sitting inside of it.

  “I have the perfect spot, Flora,” he said. “It’s a small alcove—easy for us to block up afterward.”

  “Dieter will like that part.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “He still thinks we have vampires in those boxes.”

  A grim smile broke out on Callaghan’s face. “That’ll do.”

  They spent another two hours maneuvering the twelve heavy barrels and three boxes down the
staircase and into the alcove. When the last barrel stood against the wall, they rested for a few minutes.

  Dieter eyed the boxes. He spoke in German to Flora. “Why do the strigoi want to be placed here?”

  Flora shrugged. “I only do what they command,” she said. She thought for a minute. “I suppose they seek a quiet place for a long rest. That’s why they requested so much cognac.”

  The German nodded. “I had heard you should bury a bottle of whiskey next to a vampire to keep him calm. I did not know about cognac.”

  “It works even better,” she assured him. “Especially among ancient vampires like these—ones who have chosen not to come back.”

  “The Slovak soldiers told me that any vampire who hasn’t been killed after seven years can come back to another village and have a family of his own, sleeping in graves on the weekends. Is that true?”

  “I have heard the same,” Flora said. “Though some vampires, like my masters, choose a long sleep instead.”

  Dieter looked at the boxes. “Can they hear us?”

  She shrugged. “Probably. But don’t worry,” she said, “they really do want to sleep, and as long as you don’t threaten them, they’ll leave you alone.”

  His eyes grew wide. “What could threaten the vampires?”

  She pointed at the barrels. “Taking their cognac, or thinking about killing them.”

  He shook his head. “We shall not do that.”

  She smiled.

  “Are you two talking about the vampires again?” Callaghan asked.

  “Dieter wanted to know why they wished to come here.”

  “The buggers must have had their fill of German blood.” He hefted a pick. “Me bones are aching. Let’s get this corner closed up and give those bloody vampires a good rest.”

  “What will we use?” Flora asked.

  He pointed further into the cavern. “I saw a wall over yonder. We can knock it down and use its stones.”