Game of Shadows (6 page)

Sean closed the center drawer and opened the one on the left. It contained various files, most of them empty, but a few that held sheets with mathematical equations he didn't understand scribbled on them. He pushed that drawer closed and opened the one on the right. There were a few books stacked inside. The
Bible
was on top of two others, a book on physics, and another on the science of black holes. Again, though, nothing that would be of help in the current situation.

He gently placed the books back in the drawer and started to close it when he noticed something odd. His eyes narrowed and he reached back over to the other drawer, twisting in the chair, and opened it again. His gaze shifted from one drawer to the other and back again, comparing the two with a critical eye. There was definitely something different about the drawer on the right. The back of it was a good four to six inches shallower at the back than the one on the left.

He leaned over and yanked on the back of the drawer. It was loose, and after a few more pulls, he was able to free the false back from its housing. Wedged into the small space in the rear of the drawer was a small leather notebook. Sean plucked it from its hiding spot and placed it on the desktop. The cover had been well worn with time, indicating that it was at least several decades old. The other thing that indicated how old the book might be was a familiar symbol pressed into the cover: a Nazi swastika.

Sean frowned at the emblem, more out of confusion than disdain. "Dr. Ott is a Nazi?" he mumbled the words.

The bird at the window flapped its wings again, startling Sean once more. He returned his attention to the leather book but was slow to open it, like a medieval monk peering into an ancient tome of holy scripture. Inside were more of the strange calculations he'd seen on some of the other papers he'd examined, but these had pictures accompanying them.

"I really should have taken calculus," he whispered as he poured over the strange drawings and detailed formulas.

The initial drawings in the book featured something that looked like a metal cube. The detail was fairly strong, right down to the rivets holding the box together; an open door on the side revealed a chair and what looked like a control panel. The date at the top of the page read,
17/04/1942
.

With wide eyes, Sean flipped the pages, finding more drawings, math, and notations written in German. While he struggled with the high-level math, he could read the German almost fluently. The notes, however, were talking about tests they'd run with powerful magnets. Through the first several pages, the experiments had been unsuccessful.

As Sean turned each page, he noticed that the designs of the box changed. Initially, it had been a cube, but as the journal entry dates progressed, it became more rounded.

He continued to pour over the pages, absorbing the information as fast as he could.

"What were you up to?" he asked aloud.

One of the last drawings in the book featured an image that was nothing like the one at the beginning. The object had mutated from a metal cube to something that looked more like a bell. There were people standing around, staring at it from below. It had been anchored, Sean assumed with chains, to several pillars that stood in a circle. What he couldn't figure out was the thing that hovered over the bell. It looked like a swirling hole, but the artist had left a little too much to the imagination, and the author's description was vague at best.

The next to last entry was dated
08/04/1945
and proclaimed the experiment to be a success, and that only a little more testing would be necessary before they attempted to use the device with a human subject.

On the final page, no date was given, and the writing had changed somewhat. It appeared to be sloppier, as if written in a hurry. The context of the words gave a clue as to why.

The Nazis were so close to achieving their goal. I managed to steer their scientists with incorrect assumptions and calculations for the last three years, which I pray was long enough to keep them from success. The Allies are closing in around them, and it will not be long before they are defeated. Die Glocke has been removed from its housings and was put on a train bound for Hamburg. I overheard some of the soldiers saying the device would be taken to South America, where several of the high command were rumored to go if the war was lost.

I pray the help of Saint Sebastian in this endeavor.

"Die Glocke?" he said aloud. That would require a little digging, but for now, he wanted to get out of Dr. Ott's apartment to somewhere a little more neutral. One of the many coffee shops he'd seen on the way in came to mind. He'd be able to access the Internet faster and have some privacy by blending in with the crowds of patrons. Sean grabbed the little book and stuffed it in his rucksack.

He stood up and started for the door when he heard the clicking again. He turned his head to the window, but the bird was gone. Sean froze in place near the bedroom door and leaned back against the wall. The sound came from the living room. The second time around, he recognized the noise. It was the sound of someone manipulating the lock.

Lucerne, Switzerland

Sean pressed his back against the wall and waited. Someone was trying to get into the apartment. It could have been the local authorities, but he doubted it. They would have got a key from the apartment manager. Even if it was the police, Sean knew that wasn't much better. If they found him in here, his mission would be compromised before it even began. At best, it would put him several hours behind the clock, and he was already fighting the time issue.

Whoever was at the door was attempting to pick it, which meant they were potentially hostile. He pulled the weapon out of its holster, holding it near his face and keeping his shoulder dug into the doorframe. In an instant, he remembered the balcony. Part of it stretched around behind part of the wall, which would give him a temporary hiding place. Of course, if whoever was at the door happened to walk over to the balcony doors, he'd be exposed.

It was his only option.

Sean padded hurriedly across the floor like a 180-pound mouse. He turned the latch on the balcony door, but it wouldn't budge. His heart pounded, but he forced himself to remain calm. He looked down and realized it was locked.
Why would someone lock a door five stories up?
He twisted the lock and tugged on the latch, slipping outside as he heard the lock on the front door give way.

He pulled the balcony door closed as quietly as possible and slipped around the edge of the wall just as he saw the front open. All he'd seen was a gloved hand coming around the corner at the front, reaffirming what he'd believed about the intruder. The realization of his current situation struck him after a few seconds of standing on the balcony. Since he could remember, Sean had been afraid of heights, a phobia that had plagued him throughout his entire life. People had suggested he see a therapist about it, but he was always too busy for anything like that. The oddity behind his fear was that, as a boy, he'd climbed trees all the time, never fearing falling or getting hurt. But buildings and high mountains were a different animal altogether. Even at the less-extreme height of five stories, his heart dropped into his stomach.

He pressed his back against the wall, still clutching his weapon with one hand but pushing hard against the smooth, brushed steel siding with the other. He could hear the intruder rummaging through some things inside. From the sound of it, the person was probably in the living room, knocking over the desk, shelving, and some of the other things in the area.
These guys are a little late to the party,
Sean thought, distracting himself for a moment from the dizzying heights.

His mind returned to it, though, as he realized he needed to get out of there.

To his right, the next-door balcony presented his only option. He shuffled his feet, inch by inch, until he reached the railing. The distance between the two porches was temptingly close. Maybe five feet. To him, it looked more like twenty. For two seconds, he briefly considered the possibility that whoever was inside the apartment might actually not check the balcony. Why would they? Surely, whatever they were looking for wouldn't be out there? Would it?

He shrugged off the thoughts. The intruder didn't need a reason to check the balcony. Sheer curiosity would be enough to catch Sean, at which point he would have to shoot his way out, something he'd rather not do in the current environment. Then again, he'd rather not try to jump five feet from one railing to another.

A horrible sequence of visions flashed through his head. One of them involved losing his footing and completely missing the jump, followed by his body plummeting to the pavement below next to a stream of pedestrians. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. There was no other option. He had to get away clean, and this was the only way.

He tucked his gun back into the holster and snapped the button on the strap to hold it in place. His breathing quickened as he lifted his leg up over the rail and straddled it for a moment before putting his foot on the narrow, metal beam. Fortunately, the top of the rail was flat, giving him at least a small edge on which to balance. He picked up his other foot and stood erect, keeping his balance and most of his weight on his right hand as it pressed against the wall. He fought the urge to look down, but his peripheral vision saw everything else: the city skyline, the cars moving slowly through traffic, and yes, the five-story fall. A gust of wind whipped up, seemingly out of nowhere, and nearly caused him to lose his balance. He shifted his weight slightly, steadying himself against the heavy breeze.

Sean took in one more long, slow breath. "You got this," he muttered to himself. He bent both knees and pushed off hard, but his left foot slipped and didn't give an optimal boost. He hurtled at an awkward angle through the air, but his jump was much shorter than necessary. His hands shot up instinctively in an attempt to grab the other balcony, but his fingertips scraped the edge as he flew past. A sickening sensation filled Sean's mind. The gushing air underneath him sent a chill through his spine as he fell. His fears had come true. He winced for a second, knowing that the thing he'd been afraid of his entire life had finally come to fruition.

All of this ran through his mind in the span of two seconds. The third second, he realized he was heading for the balcony directly below the one he'd aimed for. His body hurtled to the concrete platform. He put his feet out and hit with the left foot first, then the right, and let his lower body go limp, falling to the hard landing with a roll. His back hit the railing on the other side of the balcony, stopping him cold.

Sean looked around for a second and realized he was okay. His back throbbed a little from hitting the rail right where the man in Agadir had struck him with his elbow, but other than that, he was fine.

Better lucky than good
, he thought. But he wasn't out of the woods yet.

He forced himself back onto his feet and over to the balcony door. He put his hand on the latch and prayed silently that these tenants weren't as paranoid as Dr. Ott. He twisted the aluminum latch and was relieved that it gave way. He poked his head inside and looked around. The layout to the apartment was a replica of the one upstairs. The decor, however, was much different.

Pictures of cats adorned the walls. An afghan was hung over a couch that looked like it was something left over from the early 1980s. The kitchen cabinets were the same as upstairs, telling him that the contractor had provided the same to every unit.

Sean listened for a second. He didn't see anyone, but that didn't mean no one was home. Quietly, he stepped into the home and eased the door shut. He didn't hear anything. He hurried over to the door, opened it, and exited the apartment. The elevators were close by, but he opted for taking the stairs. If the man searching through the apartment upstairs had finished and was coming down, being on the elevator with him would be awkward, like messy awkward, which Sean hoped to avoid as much as possible. He'd already made a mess at the hotel in Morocco. He'd promised himself he wouldn't leave a huge body count everywhere he went if it could be helped, in spite of the fact that the nature of some of his future missions might require it.

He arrived at the end of the hallway and pushed through the stairwell door. His eyes shot up and then down to make sure no one was in there like the day before in Agadir. It was clear, and he rushed down the stairs. Fluorescent lights lining the underside of the stairs made it easy for him to see as he descended.

When he reached the bottom, Sean slowed his pace as he entered the building's lobby. He scanned the room as he walked quickly from the back of the facility to the entrance/exit. A blonde woman was grabbing mail from one of the bronze boxes on the far left wall, but other than that, the lobby was empty.

He pushed through the front door and walked out onto the street. The fresh air filled his lungs again, mingled with a slight hint of car exhaust, bread from the bakery across the street, and a waft of coffee.

He'd planned to do some research at the coffee shop, but now the plan had changed.

With a quick check in both directions to make sure no cars were coming, Sean sprinted across the road, through a small black fenced gate on the other side, and slowed as he entered the coffee shop. He found a seat at one of the tinted windows and pretended to look through it.

A frail-looking brunette girl with a brown apron and white button-up shirt came over to where he was sitting.

She asked him in German if he would like something to drink.

He replied fluently in a polite but curt tone, ordering a cappuccino.

She smiled at him as she walked away, making a note of his order.

He didn't care about the drink. All Sean needed was the seat with a view of the apartment complex. Someone had left a newspaper on the counter next to him. He picked it up and pretended to read the business section, keeping the paper over the bottom half of his face. He peered over the top of it, intensely watching the apartment building's front doors.

The girl returned in less than four minutes with his drink. "Danke," he said the German word for thank you and offered her a grateful smile.

She blushed a little and nodded before slinking back to the coffee bar.

Sean didn't let her see him roll his eyes. She was half his age. Maybe. It was hard to tell anymore.

He took a small sip of the milk and espresso and continued to focus on the building across the way.

Five more minutes and half the cappuccino later, Sean saw the man appear through the entrance. He'd not seen the face before, and now he wasn't wearing gloves, but the man's red shirtsleeve had been visible when entering Dr. Ott's unit, and that was enough for Sean. Now the guy stuck out like a sore thumb. His hair was dark with thick waves. He had the stern face of someone who rarely found humor in things, and a thin layer of stubble from ear to ear.

The man looked in both directions as he stepped onto the street. He appeared to be looking for something or someone. He turned and started walking to the right, heading back toward the center of town. Sean took another sip of his coffee, left enough euros on the counter to cover his tab and a small tip and walked out.

Sean stayed on the opposite side of the street to the man he was following. While he was in pursuit, he decided it would be a good opportunity to multitask. If he was on the phone, it would disguise his presence slightly in case the man knew who Sean was and what he was up to. Plus, it would give Sean a chance to get the ball rolling on the research side of things.

He slid the phone out of his pocket and flipped through a few of his recent calls, finding the ID he was looking for he hit the green
call
button.

A few rings later, a man on the other end answered. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the amazing Sean Wyatt."

"Listen, Tommy. I have something I need you to look into." He cut through the niceties and went straight to business.

"Okay, buddy. Everything all right?"

"At the moment. I'm trying to find some information on a Nazi experiment. I think the device they were constructing was called
die Glocke."

"
Die Glocke?" Tommy made sure he'd heard correctly.

"Yeah. It's German."

"I figured that when you said the word,
Nazi.
"

"Right." Sean shook his head.

"You sound out of breath."

Sean was breathing hard, though it wasn't from the pace of his pursuit. He was walking fast, but he was trying to focus on not losing his quarry. It was the intensity of the chase that caused him to take in short bursts of air.

"I'm fine. Just walking through Lucerne at the moment. The air is a little thinner up here."

"Lucerne?" Tommy sounded surprised. "What are you doing there? I love that city. One time--"

Sean cut him off. "Tommy, I need you to pay attention. Find out all you can about die Glocke, and any information on a man with the last name of Ott. I think he was a scientist that was working for the Nazis on the project. Get me all you can about those things."

The other end of the line was silent for a moment as Tommy was jotting down everything his friend had requested. Tommy Schultz was the head of the IAA based in Atlanta. He and his younger assistants, Alex and Tara, were bloodhounds when it came to digging up facts on just about anything.

If there was any information out there on the older Ott and the device known as die Glocke, Tommy and his crew would find it.

"Okay, I think I got it. Anything else you want me to look up? An itemized list of priceless art stolen by the Nazis?" His tone was sarcastic despite the fact that he was being helpful.

"No, maybe later," Sean cracked. Then "Wait. See what you can find out about a Nazi U-boat heading to South America. I want to know if there is any documentation about transporting technology or anything else across the Atlantic in one of their subs."

"Well, that could be tricky," Tommy said.

"Because?"

"For starters, the idea of Nazi leaders escaping the Fatherland to South America, particularly Argentina, isn't a new theory. In most circles, it's a widely held belief that many U-boats did, in fact, make the journey across the ocean successfully."

"Good. Then we are dealing with facts and not myth. See what you can find."