by David Cline
“What progress has been made since our last correspondence?” he asked.
There was never small talk or pleasantries, it was always straight business. Speer liked it that way. Odessa was about action and progress. He reached up and adjusted the camera so that he became centered in the frame.
“I am happy to report that we are on schedule and everything is ready for launch. We have had our problems, but all have been rectified and overcome. The Bützow is on the horizon and will begin the unloading process within the hour.” He paused. “We have worked hard, and my men and I are excited to play our vital role.”
“How are the weather conditions?” a woman asked.
“They are ideal,” Speer answered. “Blue skies with a gentle breeze from the south-west. No change is predicted for the next five days.”
“Will your team be ready for launch tomorrow by 1700?” the man asked.
Speer paused and looked behind him through the tinted plexiglass. He saw figures scramble as they prepared for the arrival of the large ship. He turned back toward the camera.
“We will be ready,” he said. “We have the easy part. We have prepared everything requisite for a successful launch except for the rocket. I trust that our counterparts on the mainland have been working around the clock in preparation.”
The man nodded. “Odessa has been preparing for this moment since before most of us were born. Rest assured Kommandant Speer, the piece of technology about to arrive is a modern wonder. We have achieved something that, before now, has only existed in the realm of science fiction.”
Speer could not help but smile. He felt so fortunate to be able to witness history being made. If only his ancestors and deceased leaders could have lived to see what had been accomplished.
The man continued. “To realize our objective, we will need to launch several rockets in the following weeks.”
Speer’s eyebrows raised. “I was under the impression that we would have a timespan of months between launches to ensure everything was in order.”
He saw on the monitor that a whispered discussion had broken out amongst a few people around the table. By the facial expressions and arm movements, it was evident that the matter had recently been discussed. After a few moments, everyone seemed to arrive at a consensus and quieted back down.
The man acting as the group’s spokesperson faced the camera again. “We have become restless of late and have decided to expedite all operations. Interstellar travel takes time, even with the greatest aeronautical technology ever produced by mankind.”
Speer’s eyes widened. He had known that his fellow comrades had worked tirelessly developing cutting-edge rocket technology. But he had never asked what they were to be used for. He had always assumed they were putting advanced satellites into orbit. His mission on the island was to construct a launch site. With the help of his team, they had done so.
“Interstellar travel?” he repeated. “What is the destination of this first launch?”
The man closed a binder with such finality, Speer knew the conversation was over. “The sun,” he said, as the connection was terminated.
Speer stared at the dark screen, puzzled. He vaguely heard work being done outside on the Launchpad. The sun?
Chapter 8
Nick Wood gazed admiringly at the vast green expanse that stretched below him. From the third-floor balcony, Wood felt like he looked down on his own jungle kingdom. The grounds were well maintained and tidy. In the distance, a battle ensued where the jungle met the trimmed, manicured lawn. Large, wild branches pierced through the invisible barrier as though signaling the charge to reclaim the land. Tall palm trees rocked gently in the warm breeze. Their shadows grew long and dark as the sun descended behind them. The sky was cloudless and showed off a perfect gradient of blue.
After they had reached the muddy shores of Brazil along the Paraná River, they had caught a taxi and taken a short 15-minute ride to the Belmond Hotel das Cataratas. The resort was situated next to the largest waterfalls system in the world. Iguazú Falls. Wood puzzled at why it was not considered one of the natural wonders of the world. The entire river tumbled 300 feet over an almost 2-mile-long edge of the Paraná plateau. Depending on water levels, anywhere between 150 and 300 waterfalls plummeted in awe producing fashion. Niagara Falls only measured half as high.
Despite being only one bridge away when he had lived in Ciudad del Este, Wood had never crossed the border to see them.
Everyone but Wood had retreated to the pool for the evening, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the picturesque view for company. He closed his eyes and listened to the soft breeze as it ruffled the slender leaves of the nearby palm trees. They drooped as though sad to bid adieu to the sun. A myriad of insects chirped and hummed together creating a constant pulsing beat. Frogs croaked and birds sung as each species finished their daily routine and prepared for the coming night.
The advertising for the resort had boasted about the incredible high-speed Wi-Fi. The pamphlet said it was the fastest in the province. Wood did not know if it was an outright deception or if internet speeds in the province were abysmally slow. All he cared about was successfully contacting his team at S.A.T.R.A.
Back in the day, after Wood and Wilkins had left the Navy Seals, they had been offered positions at the Science and Technology Research Agency by an old friend and mentor, Jim Stalbridge. Within a short time, both Wood and Wilkins were head of operations and overseeing research all over the world. In the information age knowledge is power, and power is the envied currency as businesses and governments jostle for pecking order. If a search engine could not answer an inquiry within seconds, many times, no one could.
Because S.A.T.R.A. was privately owned and operated, there were no layers of bureaucracy or impeding red tape that too often brought other organizations to a grinding halt. Their staff could be anywhere on the planet within a day or two. They could perform scrupulous research and analysis, and report back to their clients within a week.
Their only real competition came from government funded organizations. But because world governments were so bloated and mismanaged, S.A.T.R.A. really had a monopoly on the market. Even public institutions like universities contracted with them to avoid the heartburn and headache that is working with government.
There was a knock at the door and Wood walked across the room. He peered through the tiny, silver peep hole and opened the door. A woman in a smart service uniform smiled and handed him a folded piece of paper. Wood thanked her.
He sat on one of the twin beds and read the message. The internet was back up and as compensation for the inconvenience, they offered everyone in their group complimentary breakfast at the buffet the following morning.
Wood pulled out his laptop that had survived the beating over the last few days and fired it up. He entered the Wi-fi password and opened a browser, logging into the encrypted video conference software that S.A.T.R.A. staff used to communicate. He tried to call Stalbridge but there was no answer. He scrolled down and found Danville’s name.
Chris Danville was the most sarcastic and misunderstood employee at S.A.T.R.A. And, without a doubt, one of the most brilliant people Wood had ever met. Danville oversaw anything that was connected to a computer, considering he had coded first generation anti cyber-attack software for the company’s servers, and then used that same program to hack into government archives to validate the truthfulness of popular conspiracy theories. Danville tended to enjoy the company of artificial intelligence over humans and slept on such an unpredictable cycle, you had a better chance at roulette than predicting the last time Danville had slept. Many organizations had attempted to woo, bribe, and steal him away, but Danville had never been motivated by money. Wood loved him.
There was a beep at the door as a key was recognized and Wilkins charged in, dripping all over the carpet. He wore only a swimsuit and a big grin on his face.
“Nick,” he said, out of breath. “The amenities here are amazing. Take
a break from all of that and come experience some first-rate customer service.” He walked over to the open backpack on the other bed and pulled out a sleeve of cookies.
“Internet is back up,” Wood said.
Wilkins leaned over Wood and stared at the screen as it attempted to connect. Dripping water and cookie crumbs rained down. Wood snatched a pillow and whacked Wilkins in the head. “Will you take it easy?” he said, pushing Wilkins away.
Wilkins grinned. “Did you hear what I said? The last few days have been stressful for all of us. The doctor is in, and I prescribe a nice long soak in the hot-tub.” He hesitated as he debated whether to continue. He gave Wood a sly look. “Amara is in the pool right now and…” his voice trailed off. He raised both hands like he was surrendering.
“Adam, my friend,” Wood said, standing up. “Say no more.” I don’t think you have ever been more right in your life.” He grabbed the top of the laptop to close it when Danville’s face appeared.
“Chris!” Wood exclaimed.
Wilkins zipped up the backpack and sat down next to Wood.
Danville’s bald head reflected the light awkwardly. His eyes were heavy, and his cheeks were a little pale, but he flashed them a smile that told Wood he was genuinely happy to see them.
“Where have you two been?” Danville asked. His tone had no hint of rebuke but only of honest curiosity. “I know your long list of skills does not include reporting in everyday as required, but it’s been almost a week! Did you get a chance to study the aquifer? Stalbridge has been brooding around the office waiting to hear for an update. I guess our client is getting impatient.”
Wood grimaced. “Send our most sincere apologies to the colonel. Things got a little dodgy down here.”
Danville frowned. “You two are a magnet for mayhem. What could have possibly happened while you studied an underground lake? I saw the survey map of your research location. You were in the middle of nowhere! It wasn’t like you were studying gang violence in Chicago.”
Wood laughed. From anyone else, such banter would irritate him, but from Danville, it was refreshing.
For the next five minutes, Wilkins and Wood took turns recounting their adventure as it happened. When Wilkins mentioned the hoard of priceless artifacts they had found, Danville’s eyes burned with interest.
Halfway through, there was a knock at the door and Wilkins let Amara in. Wood paused midsentence and stared with his mouth open. She too, was only in a swimming suit. She wore a black bikini with a single white stripe. Her long hair dripped behind her.
Wilkins gave Wood a look and for a second their eyes locked. He could almost hear Wilkins say, I told you so.
“Is everything okay Nick?” Danville asked.
Wood looked back down at the screen and saw the concern on Danville’s face.
“Everything is perfect,” Wood said. “Better than you know.”
Amara grabbed a white towel from the bathroom and dried her hair as she walked across the room and sat on the other side of Wood.
“This is Amara,” Wood said.
He watched Danville’s mouth slowly transform into a knowing grin.
“Nice to meet you,” Danville said.
Amara flashed a smile. “Nice to meet you too.”
There was a pause and Wood hurried and got back to business. Danville hated small talk and meaningless conversation. Maybe that was why Wood liked him so much. Their discussions were soaked with depth and honest inquiry. Together, they could debate ideas without fear of judgement from each other.
“You think the Nazi party survived all these years and has an active branch down here?” Wood asked.
Danville shrugged. “I was under the impression that, despite some high officials escaping at the end of the war, the world continued to spin and they adapted to new cultures and new identities. They would have had to blend in to avoid the world courts. The Nazi party would have faded into the annals of history.” Danville paused and stroked his patchy facial hair. “Although, if what you have described is true…” his voice trailed off.
Wood could almost see the cogs in Danville’s mind turning. He looked like a kid that had just found an old toy they forgot had existed.
Wilkins leaned forward. “I have footage of the museum we found. When Wood stops hogging the computer, I will send it your way for analysis.”
“Can’t wait,” Danville said. “You know I love this stuff.”
Wilkins laughed and looked at Amara. “Danville loves conspiracy. Big government secrets and cover-ups. Hitler not committing suicide in Berlin, but escaping. That kind of stuff.”
Danville looked slighted. “People only give it the label of conspiracy to discredit and alienate those trying to discover the facts. You must know how to filter through the hoard of noise to reach the precious gems of truth. Remember, the people and organizations in charge at any given time write history for their time. They can omit, alter, or exaggerate reality. If you take history at face value, you may miss some important details.”
Amara looked at Wood as though asking whether to take Danville seriously or not. Wood just grinned.
“Take Hitler for example,” Danville continued. “The accepted historical account is that Hitler and his recent wife Eva Braun committed suicide together shortly before the Ruskies conquered Berlin. Hitler had instructed his most trusted soldiers to then bury both him and Eva in a shallow grave outside the bunker and incinerate their bodies with gasoline. The Soviets soon discovered the charred bodies, heard what happened and took bone fragments back to Moscow where they sat in the Kremlin for many years. Scientists recently were finally given access to the remains and with modern DNA testing discovered that beyond a reasonable doubt, those bodies didn’t belong to Hitler or Eva.”
“What really happened then?” Amara asked.
Danville looked at his cell phone and then put it face down on his desk. He looked back at the camera. “Most conspiracy lives on the fringe of reality. But Hitler escaping to Argentina is beyond blind fiction. There are mountains of evidence and eyewitness accounts that all attest that he escaped Berlin shortly before the end of the war.”
Amara looked captivated. “What did he do once he arrived in South America?” she asked.
“Until this video chat, I would have argued he lived in quiet exile somewhere in remote Patagonia. Someplace way off the grid that was cumbersome to get to. After Wood and Wilkin’s account of what happened, however…” He shrugged. “Hitler could have continued to lead a loyal faction of the Nazi party. They had both the financial means and the personnel to organize again.”
“Don’t you think after all these years something would have surfaced?” Wilkins asked. “If by some stretch of fate, the Nazi’s continued to exist in some capacity, someone would have heard about it.”
Danville nodded. “I would venture that a small community of Nazis have survived. They are no longer politically active, or hell bent on eradicating the lesser races. Simply a group that gets together and shows off the spoils of Europe. Talk about what could have been.”
“I don’t know, Chris,” Wood said. He shifted his body, his back beginning to ache. “They have a formidable presence in Ciudad del Este. When we escaped their temple, the entire city got locked down. Local gangs, the police, everyone seemed to report to them. Their organization goes by the name of Odessa. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Odessa,” Danville repeated slowly. His hands once again stroked his spotty facial hair. “Let me get back to you on that one. Something tells me the name has historical importance. But let me not mislead you.”
“One more thing before you go,” Wood said. He straightened his legs and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “Does the word Ararat mean anything to you? It was given to us by a stranger who was convinced Odessa threatened the entire world. He gave us this word hoping we could help somehow.”
Danville’s face grew larger as he looked closely at the paper Wood held up to the camera. After
some hesitation, he flipped around and wiggled a mouse. An array of monitors lit up.
Danville’s back was to them and he talked over his shoulder as he typed hurriedly. “We live in a time when such inquiry can be answered as fast as the question appears in the mind.” After a few moments, he flipped back around and scooted his chair closer to the camera. “Best result is a mountain in Turkey.”
“Anything special about it?” Wood asked.
“Not that I can tell on the first pass,” Danville answered. Silence ensued and Danville used it to examine the three of them closely. “You have that crazy look in your eyes,” he said. “Am I going to have to explain to Stalbridge why his two operational managers abandoned their post and flew to the Middle East?”
Wood looked at Wilkins and then back at Danville. “I’ve got that feeling again that I can’t rationally explain. Just gut instinct.”
Danville grinned. “Say no more,” he said. “I will arrange the flights for the two of you. Unfortunately, the S.A.T.R.A. plane is currently being used by our team in the South Pacific so your flight must be commercial.” Wilkins groaned and fell backward on the bed. “Don’t think for a second that I am going to put you in first-class. Coach all the way. If you are lucky, it might pacify the wrath of Stalbridge when he finds out. I will email you the confirmation in the next half-hour. In the meantime, Wilkins…” Adam sat up ready for more bad news. “Don’t forget to send me the footage you took. That will give me a good idea of what we are dealing with. Is there anything else?”
“Just wait one more second,” Amara said. She jumped up and ran to a small table by the front door of the suite. She opened her daypack and carefully pulled out a plastic bag. She unwrapped the contents with delicate hands and sat back down. “I had just pulled this out of an ancient sarcophagus in the Odessa temple when the alarm went up and we had to make a quick escape. Must have pocketed it. You seem to be the erudite who knows all. What do you think?” She held it out in front of the camera for Danville to see.
