Secrets of the Last Nazi

by Iain King

  Myles felt the water reach him. It was cold, and quickly formed a rising layer on the ground. Gushing in, it filled the room quickly. The stacks of paper were getting wet. Myles looked again at Frank. The man seemed confused as much as he was in pain. ‘Frank – Frank?’

  Frank’s eyes rose toward Myles. He seemed apologetic again – sorry for dying…

  Myles watched as Frank’s eyes seemed to switch off, and knew he had to help his old friend. Ignoring Dieter, he shuffled across to Frank and slammed his bound hands on the man’s chest.

  Dieter caressed his finger on the trigger, tilting his head as he spoke. ‘Myles, leave him.’

  Myles refused to obey the instruction. He was determined to save his old friend.

  Glenn replied for him. ‘Are you so hung up on the predictions that you’re trying to make them come true?’

  Dieter didn’t answer.

  Glenn kept taunting, calling up at him. ‘You want Frank to die just so the machine is correct? That’s nuts.’

  Dieter turned to the American. Glenn’s eyes widened in horror – Dieter was about to shoot.

  Then, without words, the Frenchman just pulled the trigger.

  Clunk.

  Dieter looked down at the gun to see what had happened. The ammunition belt was exhausted.

  Dieter edged back, then he let his gun fall into the water, but grabbed the utility knife instead. He held it down towards the two of them.

  Realising they had a chance to overpower him, Myles and Glenn both rushed to their feet.

  Dieter stabbed out at Myles. Myles dodged the blow but lost his balance. He stumbled down into the rising water.

  Then Dieter lurched towards Glenn. Glenn rocked back, lifting his forearms in self-protection.

  Dieter grinned. He leapt back to grab the innards of the Nazi prediction machine, hauling out the suitcase-sized device in a single motion. Quickly he darted towards the steps. Then he checked again behind him.

  Myles stared up at him, defiant. Even though Myles was sitting with his hands bound in water now well-above his ankles, he was refusing to give up.

  But Dieter knew he had them. ‘I’m not going far….’

  He started to climb, still holding the knife and lifting the core of the Nazi computer as he clambered up the ladder.

  Glenn looked to Myles, who had already turned back to Frank. The Englishman was applying pressure to his friend’s wound again.

  Myles glanced up at the steps where Dieter had just gone. There was no chance of them stopping the man from escaping. He called over to Glenn, ‘Keep Heike-Ann’s face out of the water.’

  Glenn turned to the woman, lying on the floor, and almost completely covered in water. She was barely conscious. The American put his bound wrists behind her head and hauled her up. She seemed to revive a little.

  Frank, though, had grown pale. His face was contorted from trying to hold his remaining breath. Then the muscles on his forehead eased a little, as if he had a joke to share. He tried to speak, but could only mouth the words. ‘The machine’s wrong – not death by water…’

  Myles slammed more pressure on to Frank’s chest. ‘Stay alive, Frank. Damn it – stay alive…’

  But it was no use. Frank’s lungs were almost completely full. Frank swung his head from side-to-side. He knew he was about to die.

  ‘Frank…’

  Frank tried to mouth something more, but blood started to choke him. It began dribbling out through his teeth.

  A look of alarm cast over his features. He glanced towards the exit – the way Dieter had climbed out just moments before – knowing he would never follow. Then Frank’s eyes started to lock in place.

  Myles rammed more pressure against the chest wound with his hands, pushing as hard as he could. He tried to tip Frank’s head forward, hoping to clear the blood from his mouth.

  But the more he tried, the less difference it seemed to make. He tried again, and again, and again…

  Glenn called over. ‘He’s dead, Munro.’

  Myles knew it, but still couldn’t abandon his friend. He kept the pressure on Frank’s entry wound, even though Frank’s lungs were already full. He checked Frank’s neck: no pulse. His old friend’s body had gone limp. In a last effort, he lifted his hands to grab Frank’s hair and shake it, but it made no difference.

  Frank was gone.

  Finally Myles paused, then let go, exhausted. Frank’s dark blood oozed into the water. The body slumped down with it.

  Glenn called over again, straining. ‘Come on – help me with Heike-Ann.’

  Glenn was still holding up their German translator, who was conscious again but sagging in his arms. The American tried to heave her towards the exit.

  Water was rising fast. It had come level with the top of the emergency hatch. Some of the old Nazi papers were beginning to float on the surface. Picking up dirt and dust, and mixed with blood from Zenyalena and Frank, some of the liquid had turned maroon.

  As Myles stood up, the water came to his knees. With his hands tied, and one leg injured, he had trouble with his balance – just walking towards Glenn was difficult. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Glenn, pulling Heike-Ann with him. Myles took the woman’s legs and they began to carry her.

  They took her to the bottom of the rungs which led back up to Stolz’s apartment. Myles stared up. It was a ten metre climb – with tied hands, not easy holding Heike-Ann…

  Glenn saw his concern. ‘Do you think we can do it, Myles?’

  ‘We’ve got to try…’ Myles lifted his foot onto the bottom rung, which was hidden below the water, still holding Heike-Ann. Then he realised he couldn’t hold the rungs and Heike-Ann at the same time. Not with his hands tied. ‘…Can you untie me?’

  Glenn nodded. He tried to unpick the knotted cable, but it wasn’t loosening. He kept at it, trying different ways to free the knot, but there was no way it was going to slacken.

  As Myles desperately tried to loosen the bindings on his wrist, he didn’t notice the stack of papers next to him start to sway. The water was making it unstable. Suddenly, the column collapsed, hitting Myles on the side and knocking him into the water. They were submerged.

  Myles struggled to find air again, pushing up through the sheets of paper which covered the surface like lillypads. He had to regain his footing, then pushed up. Eventually he broke free, and shook the water from his head. Sheets of wet paper stuck to his body.

  The water was now up to their waists. Glenn was finding Heike-Ann even harder to carry.

  Myles looked at Glenn’s face and sensed what the American was thinking: with the rising water, the thick wads of paper floating on top of it, Heike-Ann’s semi-conscious body and their hands tied, could they really escape?

  Sixty-Two

  11.30pm CET (10.30pm GMT)

  * * *

  Glenn struggled with Heike-Ann in his arms, trying to lift her. ‘Well, Myles – you gonna help me carry her up?’

  ‘No. Not up,’ Myles replied quickly. With his eyes, indicated sharply downwards.

  Glenn looked confused. ‘Down? You crazy?’

  ‘It’s the only way, Glenn. If we go up, Dieter will take us out one at a time – with your knife.’

  Glenn began to realise Myles was serious. He watched while Myles delved down, through the paper on the surface, into the water, and found Heike-Ann’s legs. Then he lifted. And, together with Glenn, they placed her on the empty shell of the prediction machine – safely out of the water.

  Glenn cast a ‘you first’ look at Myles, who nodded in acknowledgment, as he waded back towards the emergency hatch.

  Myles took a deep breath, then ducked his head down. The water was too murky to see through, but he knew where the hatch was. He felt his way in. It was a narrow tunnel. The sides were smooth, Nazi-era concrete, part covered in algae. The water became clearer as he swam out of the bunker, but it was flowing against him.

  He pulled himself along, trying to beat th
e current. The tunnel went along, then down. He kept hauling himself through, following it down for a metre or so, until it started to rise again. He felt pain in his lungs – he needed to breathe. But he ignored the instinct to turn back. Then, through the cold, clear water, he could see some sort of light. The tunnel led straight to the river.

  His instinct told him to continue – to swim up for oxygen. He was about to allow himself to float to the surface, up into the clear air above the river. But then he realised: if he escaped now, he’d never be able to get down to the hatch again. He had to go back.

  He pulled his legs into his chest and manoeuvred his tall body around in the tunnel, trying to shut out the intense sensation in his chest. Swimming in this direction he could allow the flow to push him along, back towards Stolz’s secret bunker. He reached the open emergency hatch, squeezed through, then burst up through the surface of the water.

  He spluttered for air, peeling a wet sheet of paper from his face. At last, he could breathe again.

  Glenn shouted over. ‘Can we do it?’

  Myles nodded, still catching his breath.

  Glenn saw Myles needed to get oxygen back into his body, but the water was still rising. They had to leave fast. ‘Time to go, Myles.’

  Myles understood. ‘Glenn: I’ll lead, you push Heike-Ann down after me, then follow. And Heike-Ann – can you hear me?’

  Heike-Ann roused, trying to respond.

  ‘Heike-Ann, I want you to breathe, now - as deeply as you can. Understand? You’ll need to hold your breath.’ Myles prepared himself again – a deep breath, an exhale, another deep breath to fill his body with air, then he ducked down.

  It was harder this time. The water was higher – more paper to push through, and further to go down before they reached the emergency escape hatch.

  When he was finally in, he wedged his feet against the sides and bent back to take Heike-Ann.

  Through the water, he felt Glenn passing him the woman’s hands. Fumbling in the cold liquid, Myles only just managed to grab them. He hauled them with him, and pushed on.

  The extra resistance from Heike-Ann’s body made it difficult to advance along the tunnel. He was progressing at only half the speed he had gone before. Could he make it this time?

  Then he felt Heike-Ann’s body come with him. Glenn was pushing from behind.

  Myles kept on, along the horizontal part of the tunnel, feeling where the concrete was still smooth. He pushed against decayed joints and girders, trying to get traction against the current.

  Then the downward part. He kept pulling, hoping Heike-Ann’s body wouldn’t get stuck. He dragged the body down, down and… eventually - through.

  Finally, he was at the outlet, where the tunnel fed into the River Spree. He pulled Heike-Ann once more. Nothing. She seemed stuck.

  He yanked again. Still no movement…

  His lungs were piercing from the dive. He tried to ignore the agony. He knew he probably had only one last chance… Then he felt Heike-Ann’s body loosen. It was coming free. Glenn had pushed her again.

  As quickly as he could, Myles kicked with both his legs, ignoring the twinges in his bad knee. He swam up towards the surface, lifting Heike-Ann with him. At last, he broke into the air, and gasped as his mouth became clear.

  He dragged up Heike-Ann, who bobbed to the surface, followed closely by Glenn. Glenn burst for breath too, inhaling suddenly and deeply.

  Myles checked on Heike-Ann , and shouted to the American over the noise of the water. ‘She’s still unconscious.’

  Glenn tried to shake the water from their interpreter’s face, then hold her up so she could breathe. But she didn’t seem to be responding. Myles knew they had to get to the riverbank fast.

  The access tunnel had opened into the middle of the river, where it was deep. Half covered in algae and green underwater plants, it was easy to see how it had remained hidden throughout the Cold War. It meant Myles and Glenn had to swim about ten metres to the side, dragging Heike-Ann with them, both with their hands still tied. ‘Keep her head out of the water…’ Myles shouted over the rush of the water.

  They swam as quickly as they could, still holding Heike-Ann with their bound wrists and kicking with their legs. As they neared the edge, Myles realised there’d be no way up: this part of the river had been lined with concrete.

  He scanned the riverbank. A short distance downstream there were some metal stairs. With a tilt of his head, he pointed them out to Glenn, who understood. They changed course, and allowed the flow of the river to wash them along. Eventually, they reached the steps, Myles crashing into them first.

  Together they hauled Heike-Ann out and dragged her clear. With her lying down on the flat surface, Myles turned her pale body to the side, and then pumped her chest, careful not to press on her swollen abdomen. Water surged out. He repeated the motion. More liquid again. This time, though, she seemed to react, woozy and in pain - but alive.

  Still recovering and breathing heavily, Glenn allowed himself a small sigh of relief. ‘You know, Myles – I didn’t think we’d get out of there.’

  Myles put Heike-Ann in the recovery position. ‘So you didn’t believe the prediction you’d survive?’

  Glenn didn’t answer. Myles wondered if he still had something to hide.

  Sixty-Three

  East Berlin

  11.42pm CET (10.42pm GMT)

  * * *

  Late evening in the centre of Berlin, Myles could see his breath in the air.

  He bent down to check on Heike-Ann. Her face was blanched and cold, her body sodden. ‘We’ve got to get her some help,’ he said, realising blood was still oozing out of her gunshot wound. She needed help fast.

  Glenn looked down at his wrists, frustrated they were still tied. ‘Any ideas?’

  Myles glanced around for something which could free his hands, and fixed upon the concrete along the river bank. He rubbed the electrical cable on the edge - the plastic coating tore, and gradually the metal strands inside began to fray. As they severed, the binding became looser. Back and forth, he pressed hard on the sharpest part, until the cord was loose enough to slip his hands out. He rubbed his wrists where the cable had been.

  Then he saw, about a hundred metres away, two people - a man and a woman enjoying a late evening stroll. He darted off towards them, calling out. ‘Hey – hey…’ Waving his hands as high as he could raise them, he got the man to turn his head. Then he stumbled on the pavement stones, and had to break his fall with his shoulder.

  The man rushed over, and placed a hand on his back. ‘Ist alles in Ordnung?’

  Myles gasped in reply.

  The woman realised he wasn’t local. ‘English?’

  Myles nodded. He pointed to the man’s jacket, still catching his breath. ‘Do you have a phone? We need an ambulance…’ He turned to show them Glenn and Heike-Ann – two silhouettes by the riverbank. One standing, one lying flat.

  The man pulled out a device, slowly starting to call, but Myles urged him towards Glenn and Heike-Ann. ‘Go – go there.’

  Although the man wasn’t sure, Myles directed the couple again. The woman led the way towards Glenn and Heike-Ann, and the man began to follow, his phone clutched to his ear as he went. Myles stayed where he was, still recovering, watching as the man and woman reached his friends. He knew Glenn and Heike-Ann would alert the Berlin Police.

  Briefly, Myles wondered about going to the authorities himself. They might let him warn Helen, but he wasn’t sure. He certainly couldn’t trust them. Just trying to explain everything would take too long. If Dieter had put Myles’ name on some terrorist website, he’d be arrested before he could warn anyone. They’d never believe what he now knew about the planets, and without that they wouldn’t take the threat of Dieter seriously. Helen would die.

  No, he needed to find the man who fooled them into calling him ‘Pascal’. Dieter had to be stopped by Myles himself, and he needed to do it fast. He was fighting the worst prediction from Stolz’s mach
ine: that Dieter would cause Helen to die in two days’ time. The thought of Helen drove him on even faster. He had to save her.

  He gauged his bearings: the underwater tunnel was only a few metres long. Stolz’s place in Am Krusenick must still be close. But he realised they’d come out on the other side of the river.

  He searched along the footpath, scanning for some way to get back over. Upstream there was a small road bridge. He started hobbling towards it, limping as fast as his legs would allow, as the night air felt even colder on his wet clothes and knee brace, which was stiff and waterlogged. He stumbled again, and crashed down on the hard surface. Ignoring the injury, he pushed himself back up and carried on.

  He reached the bridge and staggered up the raised part, his gait uneven. Would he really be able to confront Dieter like this? He imagined the Frenchman was waiting in Stolz’s basement, ready to strike him and Glenn as they emerged, with the rising water, from the chamber below. The narrow entrance meant only one of them would have been able to climb out at a time. For Dieter, it would make the perfect ambush. But Myles could surprise him from above. He could knock him out or lock him in. As long as Dieter hadn’t predicted what he would do.

  Myles’ shoes were clipping loudly on the pavement. Still going forward, he bent down to prize them off. It didn’t work. He accepted he had to stop, then fumbled with the laces, before he could toss each one into the water. He continued on again, his socks now much quieter on the concrete.

  He looked at his watch – a quarter to midnight. The machine had predicted he would die tomorrow. Did that mean he should attack Dieter immediately, in the last fifteen minutes of the day?

  Myles kept hobbling forward, trying to solve the puzzle as he ran. Could he trust a prediction machine? Even though it had been accurate in the past, would it come true again?