The Morgenstern Project

by David Khara

  Stefan placed Eytan on a wooden table next to the campfire just as the boy was beginning to regain consciousness.

  “Tend to them as well as you can, and quickly too,” Wladowski told him.

  The latter complied, relying on the medical training he had received during his time with the SOE.

  “How do they look?” Karol asked.

  “Vassili and Janusz are lucky,” Stefan said. “The bullets didn’t do any serious damage. They have flesh wounds: serious but not deadly. I’ve cleaned them up.”

  “What about Eytan?”

  “He wasn’t as lucky. He was shot in the hip and leg. It won’t be too big a deal in the long run. But the bullets are still in there. I have to get them out.”

  “Better not dawdle then,” Karol said. “We need to leave as soon as we can. Do your best to get him back on his feet.”

  Stefan ran to get one of the suitcases he had brought with him the night before. He came back with a medical pouch from which he pulled out a pair of scissors, a knife with a long thin blade, some cotton, a clean cloth, and a bottle of clear liquid.

  “This ether will make you woozy,” he told Eytan, who was now fully awake. “You’ll hardly feel a thing.”

  “Don’t bother. It won’t work,” the boy said.

  “The kid’s got guts. I’ve seen plenty of guys panic at just the thought of getting cut up.”

  “That’s not his style,” Vassili said. He had come over to sit beside the boy.

  “We’ll talk more about it after you wake up, champ,” Stefan promised Eytan, a smile on his lips.

  Stefan applied the anesthesia-drenched cloth over Eytan’s nose and mouth and turned his head as he counted to ten. When he turned back, the boy was looking at him, still conscious.

  “Hmm... Can you try sniffing this?” Stefan asked Vassili.

  The Siberian brought the cloth to his nose and breathed in heavily.

  “How do you feel? Dizzy? A bit sleepy?”

  “Both! I also feel like punching you in the face for asking me to do that. We need every conscious soldier that we have.”

  “It wasn’t a prank. I couldn’t test it on myself. I wouldn’t be able to operate. But why isn’t it putting him to sleep?”

  “I already told you. This stuff doesn’t work on me. Just get on with it and pull out the bullets.”

  “Don’t be silly!”

  “He’s telling you the truth. Go ahead and operate,” Karol said. He placed a protective hand on Eytan’s forehead.

  “What?”

  “Operate on him. I’ll explain afterward.”

  “But the pain...”

  “Do it!” Eytan ordered. “I know exactly what to expect. Just fix me.”

  Karol picked up a piece of wood and wiped it off. He gave it to Eytan, who clamped it between his teeth. Eytan brought his wrists together and held them out to Vassili, who grabbed them. Karol gripped his ankles.

  Stefan took a deep breath. The procedure would require speed and precision. He plunged the knife into the boy’s thigh. After a brief moment of calm, the moaning began.

  ~ ~ ~

  Colonel Neville Wladowski had his back to the operation and was busying himself with the radio. He was trying to block the sounds, but could still hear them well enough to imagine what was happening on the table. The creaking of the wood as Eytan shook, the heavy breathing, the squish of flesh being torn and manipulated. And the encouraging words of the men at the boy’s side. The colonel had seen and heard it all before. He had witnessed similar surgeries on the frontlines. Such scenes were impossible to chase from his head. They were locked in there for life. Once you stripped away the exaggerated tales of glory and the propaganda, you were left with cold reality. The battlefield was a slaughterhouse.

  “All right, the first one’s out,” Stefan declared. “Hang in there, kid. We’re almost finished.”

  Wladowski was focused on another priority, which was just as crucial as Stefan’s valiant efforts to get the bullets out of the boy. As he fiddled with the radio, he was trying to figure out a way to save their mission. With two men dead, another three weakened—one of whom was their leader—and a cohort of SS troops on their heels, pulling off a successful escape would take a miracle. And yet Wladowski refused to believe that he had parachuted into Poland only to wind up in the hands of the Germans.

  “Done,” Stefan sighed as he dropped the second bullet on the ground.

  Hearing the announcement, Wladowski turned off the radio to save its precious battery life. They needed to discuss their next move.

  He swung around to look at his comrades. Stefan’s face was red and wet with sweat. He was leaning on the table where Eytan lay. The boy’s chest was rising and falling evenly. Karol was stroking his forehead and wiping the dribble off his chin. The expression on the professor’s face had all the tenderness of a father.

  “Now can you tell us what’s going on?” Janusz grunted. “How did you know that we had walked into a trap? And what did you find out about Eytan?”

  “When I arrived at the garrison, I heard soldiers talking about a raid at some farm where there was a stash of equipment and supplies. The farmer had been tortured into confessing that his wife and he were helping the resistance.”

  “We saw their bodies in the barn,” Vassili confirmed.

  “It’s hard to distinguish fact from rumor, but from what I heard, it sounded like a Colonel Dietz—an expert manhunter—was going after a boy who had escaped an SS research facility. After Reinke left the garrison, I ducked into his office. That’s where I found a file.”

  “My file,” Eytan interrupted. Grimacing, he sat up. “Here, I go by Eytan. In Stutthof, they called me Patient 302. For about a year, this German scientist—Bleiberg—conducted medical experiments on children in hopes of creating a superhuman. Every week, they injected us with stuff that was supposed to propel us into the next stage of human development. And every week, another guinea pig croaked. They couldn’t handle it. By the time I escaped, all the kids with me had died a painful death. The lucky ones suffered just a few hours. I heard Bleiberg say the other ones had some sort of aggressive cancer. Only one survived. Me.”

  “At least you’re alive,” Wladowski said.

  Eytan shot him a scornful stare. He took off his jacket and let it fall to the ground. Then he removed his T-shirt to reveal a chest full of deep puffy scars. He turned around to show his back, which had the same scars.

  “When Bleiberg realized that I was withstanding his experiments, he expanded his research. He started evaluating my resistance to pain. On good days, I only had to put up with a few lashings and trials that tested my memorization skills. On bad days, I’d get the whip, the stick, the knife. Sometimes they’d burn me with a torch. Afterward, I didn’t get any medical attention. They wanted to see if I would heal on my own. They starved me. No food, no water. They injected me with what they said were viruses that made me so sick, I wanted to die. You weren’t a guinea pig, Colonel, so don’t tell me I was lucky to survive.”

  Everyone was dead silent.

  “I’m sorry,” Wladowski said. “I could never imagine.”

  He turned to Janusz.

  “Do you realize how serious this information is?”

  “Obviously,”

  “Eytan should have told you this the day he joined you. Him being here with you, with us, compromises our missions, both the ones we carry out ourselves and the ones that involve other units. It’s clear that Eytan is a complication. A big complication.”

  “The boy is one of us. You take him out, you take all of us,” Vassili threatened, spitting in the dirt.

  “The colonel’s right, Vassili,” Eytan said. “I should never have stayed with you. I’ve put you all in danger. Piotr and Pawel should have died fighting for our country, not trying to save my butt. And I can’t get captured by the Nazis. Imagine what they’d do with an army of men like me.”

  The men fell silent until Eytan spoke again.

 
“If you want to kill me, I won’t stop you.”

  “Piss off!” Stefan shouted. “I didn’t work my ass off carving those bullets out of you just to see you take more of ’em.”

  “The first man to get behind that idea will answer to me,” Vassili yelled, tightening his grip on his knife.

  The men nodded in unison to signify their unanimous rejection of the boy’s proposal.

  “What about this,” Janusz asked as he pulled out Eytan’s notebook. “What is it?”

  “From what I understand, once I’m done growing, my body will go through phases of overheating. Professor Bleiberg developed a serum that would counteract it. The formula’s in that notebook. That’s why I snatched it before I ran away.”

  With a sad smile, Janusz walked over to Eytan and handed him the notebook. The boy hesitated a moment, but with Janusz’s insistence, he took it.

  “You misunderstood me,” Wladowski said. “I wasn’t talking about eliminating Eytan, or handing him over, or anything else of the sort. We’ve got to get him to London, as far away from the Nazis as we can. There’s another group of resistance fighters—assembled by the English—about thirty miles from here. I can contact them to determine a meet-up point. Once we’ve joined them, we’ll arrange to get Eytan out of the country.”

  “I want to stay here,” Eytan said. “But I’ll do whatever you think is necessary to keep my friends out of danger.”

  The men gave each other resigned looks.

  “Colonel, arrange the meeting,” Janusz ordered. “We’ll move out in five minutes.”

  Neville Wladowski turned the radio back on and sent a distress call as Stefan and a limping Eytan hastily gathered a few items. While they were doing that, the professor took the Bear and the Siberian aside.

  “Can you believe that trap those guys set for us?” Karol asked. “This Dietz character and his gang are more clever than anyone else we’ve gone up against. So why didn’t they finish the job?”

  Janusz thought it over a few moments, but Vassili gave the answer. “To kill a pack of wolves, you have to find their cave. It’s possible they’re watching us right now.”

  He started scanning the woods.

  “If they were that close, Marek would have spotted them,” the Bear objected. “Marek, you see anything?”

  His question was met with silence. Janusz asked again, and again he got no answer. He walked over to the watch post and looked up.

  “Grab your weapons!” Janusz yelled as soon as he spotted the clockmaker. His friend was still seated on the limb of the tree, with his rifle across his lap. And a knife thrust deep in his Adam’s apple.

  A second order rang through the air. And this time the order was in German: “Feuer!”

  Gunshots rang out.

  ~ ~ ~

  Eytan ducked. Bullets hit the dirt all around, forcing him to shut his eyes. When the gunfire finally stopped, a gloomy silence descended on the forest. Eytan felt compelled to leap up, grab a machine gun, and fight. But the sole of a boot came pressing down on the back of his neck.

  “Stand up, 302. Slowly.” The voice sounded delighted, almost singsongy.

  The boy complied, wincing as he rose. Time seemed to stand still. Clouds of dust and the afternoon sun piercing the branches of the trees distorted his vision. He raised a hand to block the light. He looked down to discover Wladowski slumped over the radio, his body riddled with bullets. To his right, lying on a bed of moss with his knife resting in his open hand, Vassili was gazing at Eytan. But his eyes were devoid of any life. By his side, Karol was resting peacefully, his arms folded strangely across his bloody chest.

  Between two SS men in camouflage, Janusz was on his knees, hands behind his head. Seven other officers came out of the woods and lined up behind the vanquished resistance fighter.

  “The Tawny Bear and Patient 302. What prized trophies,” said the man with the singsong voice. “Colonel Karl-Heinz Dietz, at your service, gentlemen.”

  With a twisted smile, he saluted Eytan and Janusz and clicked his heels. He put his pistol back in its holster and inspected Eytan. He looked astonished.

  “It’s hard to believe you’re still a child. I can only imagine what you would look like if you had the opportunity to reach adulthood. I see now why Heydrich wanted you eliminated.”

  “You didn’t come to take me to Stutthof?” Eytan said.

  “No, my precious. I came here for a fight. I’m anxious to see if you deserve a place among my most prized hunting mementos.”

  “I won’t fight you,” Eytan said. What was the point? “Kill me now. Just get it over with.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice if you want to save your leader,” Karl-Heinz replied, pointing to Janusz. “Give me what I want. An entertaining fight. A valiant resistance. You’ll be dead in no time, and I’ll allow your friend to rejoin his renegade compatriots. If you refuse, I’ll execute him on the spot. In either case, you have my word of honor.”

  Karl-Heinz took off his jacket and dropped it to the ground. He leaned down and pulled a dagger from his black boot. He walked over to Vassili’s body and picked up his knife.

  “Perhaps fighting with this will give you a little boost of courage,” the colonel said as he threw the weapon at Eytan’s feet.

  Eytan squatted and picked up the knife. It was covered with the Siberian’s blood. The boy grunted in disgust and stood up, the pain ripping through his leg. He glanced at Janusz, who was powerless and incapable of understanding a single word of what was said because they were speaking German.

  “What if I win? What will your soldiers do?” Eytan asked.

  “That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think? I’ve hunted wild beasts much fiercer than you and battled the bravest men, but never before have I had the privilege of killing a monster.” Karl-Heinz faked a jab, forcing Eytan to step back, wincing again.

  Eytan took a fencer’s stance, transferring his weight to his right leg to relieve the pressure on his injured hip. This position lessened his exposure to his opponent but eliminated the possibility of switching to attack mode.

  “I’m not a monster,” Eytan spit out as he swept the air with his blade to keep the SS officer at a healthy distance. “What’s the glory in vanquishing me when I’m wounded?”

  “I don’t care about glory. Winning is all that matters.”

  Karl-Heinz circled around Eytan, rolling his shoulders and neck. He faked several strikes. Eytan guessed he was testing his reaction. But the colonel’s excitement seemed to be wearing off. Was he thinking that the fight wouldn’t be any fun? Eytan was fatigued and out of breath, and he was losing his will to survive.

  Karl-Heinz executed a series of blade twirls, which forced Eytan to back up even farther. He awkwardly dodged his opponent’s assaults. Before Eytan knew what was happening, the Jäger squatted, and with a perfect spin, the man swiped at his leg. Eytan fell backward. The colonel rushed in, ready to stab Eytan in the heart. In an act of desperation, Eytan grabbed his assailant’s wrist.

  At that second, a blast went off. Shocked, Karl-Heinz looked up. Eytan used the distraction to his advantage. Using his good leg, he pushed himself off the ground and stood up. He glanced in Janusz’s direction. An SS officer was keeling over, struck in the throat. Another officer had taken a bullet in the brain.

  Stefan Starlin! Eytan realized that Starlin had escaped the hail of bullets that had killed his comrades.

  Seizing his opportunity, the Bear stood up with a nasty grin plastered on his face. He head-butted one of his guard dogs, smashing the man’s skull. Gunfire continued to crack through the air. Eytan couldn’t tell where it was coming from. In no time at all, the invisible enemy had gunned down three more Germans. Then the firing stopped. The remaining soldiers were shuffling clumsily around the liberated Janusz.

  Eytan tightened his hold on Vassili’s knife, and ignoring the pain, he hurled himself on Karl-Heinz. He struck his opponent with all his strength. The Siberian’s blade bit through his shoul
der, inciting an icy shriek from the colonel, who dropped his dagger. Reinvigorated by the Englishman’s intervention and the Bear’s newfound energy, Eytan twisted the steel deep into Karl-Heinz’s flesh. He blocked the man’s increasingly mad screams. Bones, muscles, tendons, and ligaments all ceded to his furious assault.

  When a bullet went whizzing past Eytan’s ear, the officer pushed back. He kicked Eytan. With an animal-like howl, he pulled the knife out of his shoulder and threw it down. Rolling in the dirt, Eytan grabbed the colonel’s dagger and crawled back toward him, picking up Vassili’s knife on the way.

  Another blast went off.

  He turned around. An SS officer had shot Janusz in the stomach. He and the other officers were circling around the Bear as he held his abdomen. Janusz looked at Eytan. He smiled and plunged his free hand into a pocket of his jacket.

  “Stay alive, and don’t forget us.”

  “Janusz! No!” Eytan yelled, understanding what his leader, mentor, and friend intended to do.

  The explosion from the Bear’s grenade blew up the surviving men. Eytan was lifted off the ground like a leaf caught in the wind. When he came to again, he realized that Stefan Starlin was carrying him away from the scene on his shoulders. In the distance, through the branches of the trees, he could make out three men whose uniforms were ablaze. He could also see Colonel Dietz convulsing on the ground. His mutilated right arm didn’t even look like it was attached to his body.

  Eytan let out a cry amplified by hate and grief—a cry that rose to the heavens like an unstoppable promise.

  “I’ll find you again, Dietz! I don’t care how long it takes. I will find you!”

  Chapter 43

  Fort Wayne, present day

  Eytan had finally found the checkpoint where vehicles entered the facility. For five minutes he had been driving slowly along the barbwire fence that surrounded the Marine base. A security guard in black uniform was talking to a man in a large Mercedes. He gave the man his ID and waved. The car entered the facility and disappeared at the top of a hill. Whistling, the guard ducked inside his post, a small guardhouse marked Gate 1.