by David Cline
Amara sat down and faced them. “Thank you for everything,” she said. “I was in a tight spot back there. How did you know I was in trouble?”
The man pointed across the room out one of the windows. “We have a beautiful view from the back yard.” His voice was soft with age.
Amara stood and looked out the window. The backyard descended a gradual slope until disappearing over a cliff. In the moonlight, Amara recognized the cove she had snorkeled in hours before. The water was calm and glistened in the night sky.
“You saw me get attacked?” she asked, as she sat back down in the chair.
The man nodded and extended his hand. “My name is Mateo Sanchez,” he said. His accent was thick, but his English was perfect. He gestured toward the two women on either side. “These are my beautiful granddaughters Camila and Paulina.” They all shook hands.
Amara looked at Camila. “Thank you for what you did for me back there,” she said. “How did you know where they were taking me?”
Camila shrugged. “There is only one road which leads away from the beach.”
Amara rubbed her eyes. They felt heavy and bloodshot. “What was that gas you threw at the truck? I can still taste it in my mouth.”
Camila disappeared and returned a few moments later with a wooden crate. She set it on the floor so all could see. The wood was faded and old. The lid had a black eagle depicted across it. In its talons hung a wreath with a swastika symbol.
Mateo reached down and pulled the lid off. Amara leaned forward and peered inside. She had seen enough WWII movies to recognize stick grenades. There must have been thirty of them. They were about 8-inch long pieces of wood connected at the end to a pea green detonator tube about the size of a yogurt cup. White writing had faded over the years. Mateo jostled the grenades around before he lifted an object resembling a soda can. The one he held, however, possessed a cap with the safety pin still inserted.
“Smoke grenades,” Amara said, softly. She felt like she was unable to awaken from a strange dream. “German smoke grenades from WWII? How on earth did you come to possess these? This box has to be at least 80 years old.”
Mateo chuckled. “Almost as old as me.”
Amara studied the old man. “You look great for your age,” she said.
He smiled at her. “Farm work has the ability to extend life. It keeps me young.” He gestured to the box. “I found this old thing back in July of 1945.”
Amara’s mind raced. “How long have you lived in this house?”
“Since before that,” Mateo said. He studied her with genuine intrigue.
Amara’s breaths quickened. “You saw it happen,” she whispered.
Paulina looked quickly at her grandfather who remained focused on Amara. “What did I see happen?” he asked.
“The submarine.” Amara’s voice was quiet. The three people across from her remained still as statues. Their faces revealed less than the final players at the World Series of Poker. She pointed out the window. “Your backyard has the perfect view of the entire bay. The Nazi’s contact probably never knew your house existed because of its remote location. They were in such a rush to get everything transferred from the U-boat to the shore, they must have missed this one.” She poked the crate with her big toe.
Silence enveloped the small room for a full minute before Mateo spoke. “Who are you? What are you doing in Argentina? I saw you dive late into the evening. What were you looking for?”
Amara removed the folded paper she had recovered from the canister out of her back pocket and held it up. “I am trying to find evidence that Hitler escaped Berlin before the conclusion of the war.”
Mateo studied her for a moment and then shrugged. “Look no further,” he said. “Hitler disembarked onto the beach just outside that window. He was accompanied by his wife Eva Braun and their dog Blondi.”
“How do you know all this?” Amara asked.
Mateo’s eyes glowed. “Because I was there.”
Chapter 19
Wood groaned and cracked his eyes open. The room was dimly lit by a nearby lamp. There were no windows. The bed he laid on was no wider than he was. It was more of a cot than a bed. He was dressed in a green jersey that had belonged to someone twice his size. Wood braced his arms against the bed frame and lifted himself until he leaned against the back wall.
“They cut our wetsuits off us,” a familiar voice said.
Wood looked across the room. Wilkins was propped up against a stack of pillows watching a soccer game on a small boxy television set. Two mangled antennas pointed in different directions. The commentators spoke so rapidly in Arabic, Wood thought it sounded like an argument at double speed played backwards.
“I don’t blame them,” Wood said. “I would rather swim across the Red Sea again than try and get your unconscious, obese form out of a skin-tight wetsuit you had been wearing for the past 24 hours. I can only imagine the awful stench that proliferated throughout the room when they cut it open. How many times do you think you peed in that thing?”
Wilkins snorted and then began to cough. “Even on the brink of death, Nick Wood is never short of anecdotes and sarcasm. I was so dehydrated my body needed every drop I had inside me.” He looked over and his expression changed to one of genuine concern. “Seriously, how you feeling? You’ve been out for almost two days.”
Wood rubbed his temples. “I’ve definitely been better,” he said. “Happy to be alive, though.” He looked across the room. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what I would have done had I awoke alone in such a creepy looking place. Where are we anyway?”
Wilkins leaned forward and turned down the volume of the television. “We are bunkered down in a makeshift hospital wing inside the Jeddah Red Sea Resort.”
Wood nodded and looked around. “Not bad,” he said. “How are the amenities? Have they treated us well enough?”
Wilkins grinned. “It isn’t Dubai or Hong Kong, but they’re not half bad. They have clean water and fresh food. That’s all I’ve cared about lately.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Plus, they saved our lives.”
“Right you are,” Wood said. “Who do we have to thank for that?”
Just then a door opened, and a middle-aged man entered. His hair was thick but greying. He wore a smart looking pair of glasses and a faded striped button up. His face was clean shaven except for a thick mustache.
“Ah,” he said, walking up to Wood. “I am happy to see you awake.” He stretched out a hand. “My name is Doctor Ahmed.” His Arabic accent was thick but Wood could almost hear a hint of British cadence come through. “Luckily, I was here on vacation with my family when you two floated up onto the beach. He pointed to a hanger with a plastic bag suspended from it. “You were both severely dehydrated when I found you. I had to improvise and made a rudimentary IV.”
Wood looked down at his wrist and saw bruising where the needle had entered. “I can’t thank you enough, my friend.” He gestured across the room. “You have saved us both. Just out of curiosity, where were you educated Doctor?”
“London,” he said. “I’ve been back in Saudi Arabia for eight years now.” He glanced over his shoulders toward the closed door and spoke softly.
“Now that you are both conscious, I must warn you that my country is not the safest place for westerners, especially in recent days. I assume neither of you have papers?”
Wood shook his head.
“Of course not,” Ahmed said. “You both materialized out of the sea like half dead demons.” He scanned the room as if to ensure no one had suddenly appeared, then turned back to Wood and whispered. “Without papers, you could be thrown in prison and never heard from again. Even with proper documentation, I highly recommend you contact someone from your country as soon as possible to assist in your departure. The tourism industry that exists in Saudi Arabia caters to Muslims for pilgrimages to Mecca and other holy sites. If I were you, I would stay at the resort until you secure safe passage. I have tried to
keep you hidden the last few days but I am sure word has gotten out of your presence here. I have taken the liberty of booking a 1-night stay for both of you in the hotel tonight. After that, you’re on your own.”
Wood stood and felt dizzy. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. Ahmed must have been at least a foot shorter than him. “A lot of people are scared to travel because of what they see on the news every day,” he said. “I try to tell them the world is still full of good and decent people. You are one of the best I have ever met on this mortal journey. I don’t know how to thank you.”
The Doctor smiled and nodded.
Wilkins walked over. “If you ever find yourself in Southern California, look us up. We’d be happy to put you up for as long as you and the family want to stay.”
Ahmed bowed and exited the room quietly. Wilkins sat down on Wood’s bed. “Now what?” he asked.
“It’s time to call Danville.”
An hour later, Wood and Wilkins checked into their room inside the hotel. There were two queen sized beds, a small bathroom and a phone that looked like it had been preserved from a sitcom back in the 60’s.
The process to place a phone call out of the country had been unnecessarily complicated. Wood did not fully understand the broken English of the operator, but thought he heard they would be charged an exorbitant amount per minute.
Danville had about fallen off his chair when Wood recounted how they had washed up onto the shores of Saudi Arabia like driftwood after surviving the explosive device and disabling the boat.
“You’re convinced the coral covered objects you discovered at the bottom of the sea were Egyptian chariot wheels?” he asked, his voice full of skepticism. Chris Danville had never been one to mask what he really thought. He was a man of logic and facts rooted in evidence and reason. The supernatural had never appealed to him because it relied on abstract principles such as faith and hope. Neither of which were quantifiable.
Wood looked over at Wilkins, who flipped through a magazine he had found on the nightstand. “We didn’t have any equipment to do a detailed analysis,” he said. “I would have loved to do a carbon test to get an exact calculation of the age. But all we had were cheap metal detectors. My gut tells me they did in fact belong to Pharos’s army.”
He spent the next five minutes explaining in detail how a specific area of the sea floor had been dredged and a narrow ledge only 200 feet deep crossed the sea between two bottomless chasms on either side, not to mention how he had found the corpse and golden jewelry preserved within the clay. For the first time since they had met, Danville remained completely silent. He wished they were on a video call to see the expression on his face.
“I am just trying to piece it all together,” Danville eventually said. “Why would an organization discover, and then immediately abandon, the most remarkable archeological sites of our age? Significant physical evidence that could redefine how mankind views itself in the universe. Those artifacts sold on the black market would be worth millions. Nick, in the last few weeks, you have witnessed firsthand evidence that could potentially prove the Old Testament, or at least parts of it, was not just symbolic and allegorical, but actually happened…”
Wood gave Danville a few moments to digest his last statement.
“Did you know that almost every culture around the planet believes in some version of a worldwide flood?” Danville asked. “I couldn’t help but do some research after you called about the ark.” There was a pause. “But where is the evidence in the geological record? We must be missing something. A key detail.”
“I agree,” Wood said. “Since I was young, one of the ideas that has excited me most is that true science, true religion, and true philosophy harmonize together perfectly. Think about how many times human’s explanation for simple ideas have evolved over time. The world is flat, or the earth is the center of the universe. Before they discovered germs and viruses in the 19th century, people believed they had been possessed by evil spirits. First there was global cooling, then global warming, now it is climate change. With each new iteration of popular theory, people are convinced of physical truths, only to be proven wrong by the next generation of great thinkers.”
“The only thing I believe to be absolutely true is mathematics,” Danville said. “It can be proven.”
“But humans didn’t invent math,” Wood countered. “We discovered it. If we had the ability to visit other intelligent species in other galaxies, they would have mathematics as well. Their symbols might be different, but their definitions would be the same. Truth is not relative.”
“I would like to think so,” Danville said. “The idea that there exists only one right answer to every question is far easier for me to comprehend than to say it depends on a case by case basis. That is why I excelled in math and did lousy in English. When you write a paper, your professor’s opinion of you, their personal bias, and their mood all play a role in your ultimate grade. When you take a math test, there is only one right answer.”
“When we aren’t on such an expensive phone call,” Wood said, “I would love to continue this conversation Chris. These intrigues and discussions are what really matter. Timeless questions.”
“You’re right,” Danville said. “I would love to understand a Mormon’s perspective on some of the classic philosophical questions of humanity. In the meantime, why do you think this group discovered the archeological finds of the century and then promptly abandoned them?”
“Because they wanted hard evidence that these events actually happened,” Wood said simply.
“For what purpose?”
“So they can harness the same natural laws used before and cause them to happen again.”
Wilkins looked up from across the room. “Tell him what we talked about earlier.”
Wood nodded. “Wilkins and I had a similar conversation back in Turkey. He reminded me of my own beliefs. Mainly, that God is not a magician with a wand conjuring planets and solar systems into being. He is bound by the same natural laws as the rest of us. Only his understanding of them is perfect.”
“So, God didn’t create the earth in six days?” Danville asked.
“Who knows,” Wood said, waving a hand impatiently. “I am just saying the earth was created by process. Just like everything else.”
Danville paused for a moment and then talked slowly as though thinking out loud. “If someone discovered the science behind the ancient flood, theoretically, they could cause it to happen again?”
“Exactly, and that is what I believe these people are trying to do. Have you had a chance to investigate Odessa?”
There was a pause as papers rustled. “Yes, I have. Their very name was code back in the 1940’s for an underground railroad organized for transporting SS officers out of Europe. The modern-day corporation is the largest private entity in the world. You would not believe how hard it was to access some of their data. They have better cyber security than any government I have ever hacked.”
“What did you find?” Wood asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
“These are definitely our guys,” Danville said. “They have fingers in just about every type of engineering technology out there. I even came across something referring to shuttle launches into space.”
“Is any of that verifiable?” Wood asked in alarm. “Does a corporation need permission to launch rockets bound for the cosmos?”
“Stalbridge is on it,” Danville said. “He is in Washington raising hell, like usual. I guess a lot of politicians have accepted money from Odessa in recent years.”
Wood rolled his eyes. “Typical. You might as well check to see if any negative news was buried because the higher ups had been paid off. In my book, politicians and activists pretending to be journalists are at the bottom of the totem pole.”
Danville continued. “As to whether its legal to launch rockets into space, every country has their own laws and statutes. If a cooperation owned land in international waters, that
could possibly work. Or if the right officials were bribed to look the other way.”
“If all of this is true, then we have only scratched the surface. We need to speed up our investigation. Where could we do the most good?”
Danville paused. “You could provide back-up for Amara in South America. She has quite the story as well. I think you have finally found someone who gets into as much trouble as you two.”
Wood had completely forgotten Amara was conducting her own investigation in the opposite hemisphere. “Amara,” he exclaimed. “How is she doing?”
“Amazing work,” Danville said sincerely. “She actually pinpointed the spot where Hitler entered the continent. She found records within the local police archives proving the upper hierarchy not only knew of the Führer’s escape west, but also facilitated it. She met an eyewitness who was there the night it happened. In classic Wood and Wilkins style, she dove into the bay where the U-boat made the drop-off and found a sealed canister from 1945 with an enigma encrypted message on it.”
“Unbelievable,” Wood whispered. He tried to mask the envy in his voice. He wished he could have been there. “Were you able to decipher it?”
“Please,” Danville said in an offended tone. “The enigma machine was quite impressive for its time in the 1940’s but does not stand a chance against modern computers. Especially mine.”
Wood rolled his eyes.
“The message contained instructions for local agents on the ground who oversaw the secret voyage of Hitler to his new home.”
“Where are we headed?” Wood asked. Wilkins looked up from the magazine with sudden interest.
“Southern Patagonia,” Danville said. “I don’t know how you hope to leave Saudi Arabia though. All airports are going to apprehend you the moment you attempt to purchase tickets. Probably execute you as spies. You need passports to cross any of the borders. They will see no entry date and arrest you. I don’t even know if Stalbridge could help you out there.”
