by P. W. Child
New to the people
Not to the soil for 680 twelves
Still growing, the God pointer holds the two trinities
And the clapping Angels shelter the . . . of Ernaux
. . . to the very . . . . . . hold it
. . . . . . unseen . . . Heinrich I
“The rest is a whole line missing,” Nina sighed, tossing her pen aside in defeat. “The last piece is a signature from a guy called ‘Wener,’ according to Rachel Clarke.”
Sam was chewing on a sweet roll. He lurched over Nina’s shoulder and with his full mouth he said, “Not ‘Wener.’ It’s ‘Werner,’ clear as day.”
Nina angled her face upward to narrow her eyes at his patronizing tone, but Sam only smiled as he did when he knew he was the smart beyond a fault, “And it’s ‘Klaus.’ Klaus Werner, 1935.”
Nina and Agatha stared at Sam in utter astonishment.
“See?” he said, pointing at the far bottom of the photograph. “1935. Did you ladies think it was a page number? ’Cause otherwise this man’s journal is thicker than the Bible and he must have had a very long and eventful life.”
Purdue could hold it no more. From his place at the hearth where he leaned against the frame with a glass of wine, he roared with laughter. Sam chuckled heartily with him, but made his way quickly away from Nina’s reach, just in case. Even Agatha smiled, “I’d be upturned by his arrogance too, had it not been for his saving us a lot of extra work, wouldn’t you agree, Dr. Gould?”
“Aye, for once he did not fuck it up,” Nina teased, and blessed Sam with a smile.
Chapter 18
“New to the people, not to the soil. So this was a new place when Klaus Werner returned to Germany in 1935, or whenever he came back. Sam is checking the legionnaires’ names for the years 1900 to 1935,” Nina told Agatha.
“But is there any way we’ll see where he lived?” Agatha asked, leaning on her elbows, face cupped in her palms like a nine-year-old girl.
“I have a Werner that entered the country in 1914!” Sam exclaimed. “He is the closest Werner we have to those dates. The others are 1901, 1905, and 1948.”
“It could still be one of the previous ones, Sam. Check them all. What does this one from 1914 say?” Purdue asked, leaning on Sam’s chair to study the information on the laptop.
“Many places were new then. Jesus, the Eiffel Tower was young back then. It was the Industrial Revolution. Everything was newly built. What is 680 twelves?” Nina grunted. “My head hurts.”
“Twelves must be years,” Purdue chipped in. “I mean, it is referring to new and old, therefore age of existence. But what is 680 years?”
“The age of the place he is talking about, of course,” Agatha slurred through her clenched teeth, refusing to remove her jaw from the comfort of her hands.
“Okay, so the place is 680 years old. Still growing? I’m at a loss. It cannot possibly be alive,” Nina sighed hard.
“Maybe the population is growing?” Sam offered. “Look, it says ‘God pointer’ holding ‘two trinities’ and that is obviously a church. That is a no-brainer.”
“Do you know how many churches Germany has, Sam?” Nina sneered. It was clear that she was very tired and very impatient with it all. The fact that something else was pressing her for time, the impending demise of her Russian friends, was slowly gaining on her.
“You are correct, Sam. It is a no-brainer that we are seeking a church, but the answer to which one lies, I’m certain of it, in the ‘two trinities.’ In every church there is a trinity, but rarely would there be another set of three,” Agatha replied. She had to concede that she too, had mulled her brain to the edge on the poem’s arcane points.
Purdue suddenly leaned over Sam and indicated on the screen, something under the 1914 Werner. “Got him!”
“Where?” Nina, Agatha, and Sam exclaimed in unison, grateful for the breakthrough.
“Cologne, ladies and gentleman. Our man lived in Cologne. There, Sam,” he underlined the sentence with his finger nail, “where it says, ‘Klaus Werner, city planner under the administration of Konrad Adenauer, mayor of Cologne (1917 to 1933).’”
“That means he wrote this poem after the dismissal of Adenauer,” Nina said, perked up. It was good hearing something familiar she knew from German history. “In 1933 the Nazi Party won the local elections in Cologne. Of course! The Gothic church there was turned into a monument for the fresh new German Empire shortly afterward. But I think Herr Werner was a tad off with his calculation of the church’s age, give or take a few years.”
“Who gives a shite? If it is the right church, we have our location, people!” Sam urged.
“Hang on, let me make double sure before we go out there unprepared,” Nina said. She typed “Cologne landmarks” into the search engine. Her face lit up as she read through the write-ups of the Kölner Dom, Cologne Cathedral, the most significant monument of the city.
She nodded and stated irrefutably, “Aye, listen, the Cologne Cathedral is the host of the Shrine of the Three Kings. I bet that is the second trinity Werner referred to!”
Purdue stood up amid the sighs of relief, “Now we know where to start, thank God. Agatha, make the arrangements. I’ll gather everything we will need to retrieve that journal from the cathedral.”
By the next afternoon the group was ready to take the trip to Cologne to see if their unraveling of the age-old riddle would lead them to the relic Agatha’s client so coveted. Nina and Sam had taken care of the rental car while the Purdues stocked up on their finest illegal devices, should their retrieval be deterred by those pesky security measures that towns took to protect their monuments.
The flight to Cologne was uneventful and swift, thanks to Purdue’s flight crew. The private jet they took was not one of his best, but this was not a lavish trip. For once Purdue utilized his aircraft for practical reasons, not flair. On the smaller, southeastern-bound landing strip at the Cologne Bonn Airport the light Challenger-350 glided gracefully to a standstill. The weather was horrid, not just for flight, but for general traveling. The roads were wet with the onslaught of an unexpected storm. As Purdue, Nina, Sam, and Agatha meandered through the crowds, they discerned the miserable demeanor of the passengers bemoaning the fury of what they thought would be a normal rainy day. Apparently the local forecast mentioned nothing of the intensity of the outburst.
“Thank God I brought my wellies,” Nina remarked as they traversed the airport and made for the exit of the arrival hall. “This would have destroyed my boots.”
“But that hideous yak coat would have served well now, don’t you think?” Agatha smiled as they descended the steps to the lower floor to the ticket booths of the S-13 train to the city center.
“Who gave it to you? You said it was a gift,” Agatha asked. Nina could see Sam cringing at the question but she could not see why, since he was so invested in his memories of Trish.
“The commander of the Brigade Apostate, Ludwig Bern. It was one of his,” Nina said in no uncertain bliss. She reminded Sam of a schoolgirl swooning over her new boyfriend. He just walked a few yards on, wishing he could catch a smoke right about now. He joined Purdue at the ticket machine.
“He sounds delightful. You know those men are known to be very brutal, very disciplined and very, very industrious,” Agatha said matter-of-factly. “I did extensive research on them quite recently. Tell me, do they have torture chambers in that mountain fortress?”
“Aye, but I was fortunate enough not to have been incarcerated there. Turns out I look like Bern’s late wife. I suppose such small graces saved my ass when they captured us, because I got a first-hand taste of their reputation as brutes during my apprehension,” Nina told Agatha. Her glance stayed firmly on the floor as she recounted the violent episode.
Agatha saw Sam’s reaction, subdued as it was, and she whispered, “That’s when they hurt Sam so badly?”
“Aye.”
“And you got that nasty bruise?”
“
Aye, Agatha.”
“Cunts.”
“Aye, Agatha. You got that right. So it was a rather big surprise that the leader on that shift treated me more humanely when I was interrogated . . . of course . . . after he threatened me with rape . . . and death,” Nina said, almost sounding amused over the whole thing.
“Come, let’s go. We have to get sorted at our hostel so we can get some rest,” Purdue said.
The hostel Purdue had referred to was nothing of the sort that usually came to mind. They had left the tram at Trimborn Strasse and walked the next block and a half to the unassuming old building. Nina looked up at the towering, four-story, brick building, which looked halfway between a World War II factory and a well-renovated old tower house. The place had an Old World charm and welcoming air, even though it clearly had seen better days.
The windows were adorned with ornate frames and sills while on the other side of the glass Nina could see someone peeking through the impeccably clean drapes. On entering, the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee overwhelmed the guests in the small darkness of the musty lobby.
“Your rooms are upstairs, Herr Purdue,” a painfully neat man in his early thirties informed Purdue.
“Vielen dank, Peter,” Purdue smiled and stood aside for the ladies to make their way up the stairs to their respective rooms. “Sam and I in one room; Nina and Agatha in the other.”
“Thank God, I don’t have to stay with David. Even now he has not ceased that irritating chatter in his sleep,” Agatha nudged Nina.
“Ha! Did he always do that?” Nina grinned as they set their bags down.
“Since birth, I think. He was always the wordy one, while I shut up and learned stuff,” Agatha jested.
“Right, let’s get some rest. Tomorrow afternoon we can go see what the cathedral has to offer,” Purdue announced as he stretched with a mighty yawn.
“I hear that!” Sam agreed.
With one last glance at Nina, Sam entered the room with Purdue and closed the door behind him.
Chapter 19
Agatha stayed behind when the other three left for the Cologne Cathedral. She was to watch their backs via tracking devices linked to her brother’s tablet, on their persons by means of three wrist watches. On her own laptop on her bed she had linked up to the local police communication system, to monitor any alarm concerning her brother’s party of pillagers. Cookies by her side and a flask of strong black coffee, Agatha watched the screens behind the locked door of her bedroom.
Locked in a moment of awe, Nina and Sam could not take their eyes off the immense power of the Gothic structure before them. It was majestic and ancient, its spires reaching well above average of 500 feet from the base. The architecture was not just reminiscent of Medieval-style towers and pointy ledges, but from afar the wondrous building’s outlines were jagged and hard. Intricacy was beyond imagination, something that had to be beheld in person, Nina thought, because she had seen the famous cathedral in books before. But nothing could prepare her for the breathtaking vision that had her trembling in reverence.
“It is humongous, isn’t it?” Purdue smiled assuredly. “Looks even more magnificent than the last time I was here!”
The façade was impressive, even by antique standards held by the Greek temples and monuments of Italy. Two towers stood massive and silent, pointing upward as if they addressed God; and in the middle, the intimidating entrance enticed thousands to come inside and marvel at the interior.
“It is more than 400 feet long, can you believe? Look at that! I know we are here for other purposes, but it never hurts to take in the true brilliance of German architecture,” Purdue said, as he admired the buttresses and spires.
“I am dying to see the inside,” Nina exclaimed.
“Don’t be too eager, Nina. You will be spending a lot of hours in there,” Sam reminded her, his arms folded and his grin way too mocking. She pulled up her nose at him and with a chuckle the three of them entered the giant monument.
Because they had no idea where the journal might be, Purdue suggested that he, Sam, and Nina split up so that they could explore separate parts of the cathedral at the same time. With him he carried his pen-sized spyglass laser gadget to pick up any heat signatures behind the walls of the church, where he might have to sneak in.
“Holy shit, this is going to take us days,” Sam uttered a bit too loudly as his astonished eyes surveyed the majestic, colossal building. People muttered in disgust at his exclamation, inside the church no less!
“Best get to it, then. Anything that might give us an idea as to where it might be kept should be considered. We each have visual of the others on the watches, so don’t disappear. I have no strength to look for the journal and two lost souls,” Purdue smiled.
“Oh, you just had to spin it like that,” Nina chuckled. “Later, boys.”
They split into three directions, pretending to be there for mere sightseeing, while scrutinizing any possible clue that might point to the location of the diary of the French soldier. The watches they wore served as communication implements, so that they could share information without having to regroup each time.
Sam wandered into the sacrament chapel, repeating in his head that he was, in fact, looking for something that looked like an old, small book. He had to keep telling himself what he was seeking to prevent himself from getting distracted by the religious treasures around every corner. He had never been religious and he certainly felt no connotation with anything holy of late, but he had to relent to the prowess of the sculptors and masons who built the marvelous things all around him. The pride and respect with which they were made stirred his emotions and almost every statue and structure merited a picture from him. It had been a long time since Sam had found himself in a place where he truly could utilize his photography skills.
Nina’s voice came over the earpiece connected to their wrist devices.
“Do I say ‘breaker, breaker’ or something?” she asked over the scratchy signal.
Sam could not help but giggle, and soon he heard Purdue saying, “No, Nina. I dread to think what Sam’s handle would be, so just talk.”
“I think I had an epiphany,” she said.
“Have your soul saved on your own time, Dr. Gould,” Sam joked, and he could hear her sighing on the other end.
“What is it, Nina?” Purdue asked.
“I am checking out the bells in the south spire and I got this brochure about all the different bells. There is a bell in the ridge turret called the Angelus Bell,” she answered. “I was wondering if it did not have something to do with the poem.”
“Where? The clapping angels?” Purdue asked.
“Well, the word ‘Angels’ is spelled with a capital ‘A’, and I’m thinking it might be a name, instead of just referring to angels, you know?” Nina whispered.
“I think you have a point there, Nina,” Sam chimed in. “Listen, it says ‘clapping Angels.’ The tongue that hangs down the middle of a bell is called a clapper, isn’t it? Could it mean the journal is sheltered by the clapper of the Angelus Bell?”
“My God, you’ve cracked it,” Purdue whispered excitedly. He could not sound excited among the tourists who milled inside the Marienkapelle where Purdue was admiring the Stephan Lochner painting of the patron saints of Cologne in its Gothic presentation. “I’m in St. Mary’s Chapel now, but I’ll meet you at the ridge turret base in, say, 10 minutes?”
“Right, see you there,” Nina replied. “Sam?”
“Aye, I’ll be there, as soon as I can get just one more shot of this ceiling. Fuckin’ hell!” he reported, while Nina and Purdue could hear the people around Sam gasping at his utterance once more.
When they met on the observation deck, it all fell into place. From the platform above the ridge turret, it was clear that the smaller bell could very well be harboring the journal.
“How the hell did he get it in there?” Sam asked.
“Remember, this guy Werner was a city planner. He probably
had access to all kinds of nooks and crannies of the city’s buildings and infrastructure. I bet that is why he chose the Angelus Bell. It is smaller, more unassuming than the main bells and no-one would care to look here,” Purdue noted. “All right, so tonight my sister and I will get up here and you two can monitor the activity around us.”
“Agatha? Climb up here?” Nina gasped.
“Yes, she was a national-level gymnast in high school. Did she not tell you?” Purdue nodded.
“No,” Nina replied, completely surprised by this bit of information.
“That would explain her lanky body,” Sam remarked.
“That’s right. Dad noticed early on that she was too thin to be an athlete or tennis player, so he started her on gymnastics and martial arts to help her develop her skills,” Purdue said. “She is also an avid mountain climber, if you can drag her out of the archives, vaults, and bookshelves, that is.” Dave Purdue laughed at the reaction of his two colleagues. Both were clearly taken back by the thought of Agatha in a pair of cleats and a harness.
“If anyone can scale this monstrous building, it would be a mountain climber,” Sam agreed. “I’m so glad I was not chosen for this madness.”
“Me too, Sam, me too!” Nina winced, again looking down at the small tower perched on the steep roof of the enormous cathedral. “God, just the thought of standing up here had me apprehensive. I hate confined spaces, but I am developing a dislike for heights as we speak.”
Sam shot several photographs of the vicinity, more or less including the surrounding landscape so that they could plan their reconnaissance and salvage of the item. Purdue whipped out his spyglass device and scanned the tower.
“Nice,” Nina said, examining the gadget with her eyes. “What, pray tell, does this do?”
