The Black Gate (20 page)

“We already send updates and information on the gate to SS Headquarters,” Baumann snapped, “and all key personnel already keep their own notes.”

“Of course, sir. But those reports are for the consumption of the headquarters staff, at least those few who are cleared to read it, and the journals of the facility staff are primarily for their own use. These journals are for the
Reichsführer
himself, the information protected in a way that can be easily deciphered by him with the proper key, but nearly impossible to break otherwise.”

“And the
Reichsführer
told you all this,” Baumann asked through a sneer of disbelief, “in person, did he?”

“Yes, sir. In the span of roughly two minutes in his office just before I left Berlin to come here. I make no claim to be a personal acquaintance.” Peter could see that Baumann was having none of it, but von Falkenstein wore a thoughtful expression.
 

“And what about this?” Baumann pulled a neatly folded page from his tunic and handed it to von Falkenstein. “This is the communications log.
Hauptsturmführer
Müller sent an unauthorized message over the wireless.”

Von Falkenstein looked at it. “Was the message properly enciphered?”

“Yes, but…”

“And was it sent over the proper frequency and to a valid recipient?”

A flush was rising up Baumann’s neck. “Yes, yes, but…”

The
Herr Professor
handed back the log. “Then the only violations were that he did not inform you before he sent the message, and the original text itself was not logged. Am I correct?”

“Yes, but…”

Turning to Peter, von Falkenstein said, “What was the purpose of this message?”

“It was an update for the
Reichsführer
on the progress of my journals, sir,” Peter told him. He looked at Baumann. “I did not wish to go behind anyone’s back, sir, but the
Reichsführer
gave me very strict orders that I was not to reveal his instructions to anyone here.”

Von Falkenstein nodded, satisfied. Handing the journals back to Peter, he smiled and said, “Yes, Baumann, we have a spy here, but a spy for the man under whose auspices we conduct our operations.”

“You’re not angry, sir?” Peter asked, perplexed.

“Not at all. I know the
Reichsführer
quite well, and he is not a trusting man, nor should he be. I knew that he must have at least one set of eyes here that I did not know about. It just happened to be you.”
 

Baumann’s expression spoke volumes about what he thought of Peter at the moment, none of it good.

“And since you brought up the topic of communications with the
Reichsführer
,” von Falkenstein went on, with a nearly imperceptible nod to Peter before he turned to Baumann, “I have something of my own to discuss with the both of you. I had intended to wait until our dinner this evening, but since you are both here and the topic is at hand…” He went to his desk and opened a drawer, retrieving a folded sheet of paper. “It should come as no surprise that I have filed reports on both of you to
Herr
Himmler, and he has been unstinting in both praise and deed.” Unfolding the paper, he handed it to Baumann. “As directed by
Reichsführer
Himmler, you are now promoted to
Brigadeführer
and assigned command of the 1
^st
SS Panzer Division
Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler
. Congratulations, my friend!”

Baumann’s mouth dropped open in surprise as von Falkenstein took his hand and shook it.
 

Peter did the same, hoping his parody of happiness for his commander looked real. “Congratulations, sir! That’s a great honor.”

“Thank you,” Baumann whispered, looking anything but honored. A dark band of red began to creep up from his neckline.

“And you, Peter, are hereby promoted to
Sturmbannführer
.” Von Falkenstein shook his hand. “You will also lead the first contingent of men through the gate.

Even though Peter already knew what von Falkenstein had planned for him, it was now a reality. Little less than a miracle or a bullet to the head could save Peter from plunging through the gate. He held the smile on his face even as a spear of ice lanced through his heart.

Beside him, Baumann simply glared.
 

TRANSIT

Peter used the unanticipated free time to encipher as many details about the gate as he could. By the time the soldier arrived bearing orders from von Falkenstein to prepare for the next transit, Peter was confident that any physicist worth his salt who read his journals would be able to recreate what von Falkenstein and Hoth had accomplished.

But the grim satisfaction he felt quickly faded as he headed down to Level Three to fetch Mina. With four soldiers in company, he marched to her cell. Two of the men unlocked it and swung the door open on smoothly oiled hinges.

“It’s time,” Peter said quietly as he stepped across the threshold. The soldiers moved past him toward her. One of them tried to grab her wrists and drag her out, and she punched him in the throat. Gagging, he sagged to his knees as the other three men raised their rifles to butt stroke her. “Let her be,” Peter barked.

Brushing by the choking soldier as his companions dragged him to his feet, she favored Peter with a frigid look as she stood up, smoothed out the lab coat she still wore, and marched past him, head held high.

“Fall in behind us,” he told the soldiers as he turned to walk beside her.
 

Mina said nothing for a long while as they navigated the maze back toward the elevator, her face a rigid mask that concealed her feelings.
 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come down more.” Peter’s whisper was lost in the sound of footsteps echoing from the concrete around them.
 

She didn’t bother to look at him. “What good would it have done?” After a pause, she asked, “Has Baumann spoken to you?”

“Not since von Falkenstein told him he was being reassigned. I haven’t seen or heard a word from him. I assumed that he’s already left for his new posting.”

“Going through the gate is Baumann’s dream,” she whispered. “He will not give it up, even if the
Führer
himself gave the order.”

“I agree that he didn’t seem overly happy about the situation, but I’m not sure what he can do.”

“He can, and will, do anything. You must be on your guard.”
 

Peter snorted. “I think we have more pressing concerns than Baumann at the moment,” he told her. “I’ve wracked my brain trying to figure out a way for you to escape,” he whispered, “but it’s impossible.”

“Of course it is,” she snapped. “There are only two exits, and both are heavily guarded. Every guard knows me, and will know that I am a prisoner.” Her voice dropped lower. “The only way out is through the gate, unless…” She glanced over her shoulder at the guards, the same men who had tried to rape her, and clenched her fists.
 

“You won’t be able to provoke them into killing you,” Peter warned. “Von Falkenstein told them that if they didn’t deliver you alive and in one piece to the gate, they’d be fed to Ivan.”

Her only reply was frigid silence.

As they passed through Kleist’s laboratory, Kleist and several of his staff attached themselves like leeches to the melancholy party. Kleist babbled on about what a perfect specimen Mina was, and that he could not wait for the post-transit examination. Peter wanted to shoot him, but had to settle for blocking the good doctor and his minions from entering the elevator. Peter gestured to Mina. “She already attacked one of the guards,” he told the doctor. “I don’t think you want to be in an elevator with her.”

That gave Kleist pause, and he stood there, a confused expression on his face, as the elevator door slid shut.

In the semi-dark of the elevator, he felt Mina’s hand reach out for his. He took it, and she held on tight on the ride up to the second level. With a final squeeze as the elevator slowed to a stop, he reluctantly let go.

Peter led her and the guards out onto the control platform where Hoth and the gate operators were already at their stations. Von Falkenstein was at his customary position, front and center on the platform, with a commanding view of the gate. He turned as Peter led Mina forward.

“Mina.” The
Herr Professor
uttered the word as a curse as he eyed her, a look of disgust on his face. “I hope only for the sake of our efforts here that your transit is a successful one. Otherwise, I should close the gate before your return and trap you on the other side for all eternity.” He looked toward the elevators. “Where is Kleist?”

“I thought the
Herr Doktor
should ride up separately,” Peter said, “to ensure she didn’t harm him or his staff.”

“You didn’t shackle her?”

“I didn’t feel the need, sir. She has been very cooperative for me, but Herr Kleist might have proven too much of a temptation.”
 

“Indeed.” Von Falkenstein glared at Mina, then looked back at the clock mounted above one of the command consoles. “We are wasting time.”
 

“I can take her up to the catwalk and get her into the harness. That should keep us on schedule,” Peter offered. “
Herr
Kleist can join us as soon as he arrives to ensure I’ve done everything correctly. I would also like to take this opportunity to get a view of the gate before my own crossing.”

“Very well, then.” Von Falkenstein waved a hand in dismissal and turned around without another word.

“Five years,” Mina softly said through gritted teeth. “Five years I spent with that monster. And I loved him. I…”

“That, at least,” Peter interrupted gently, “is over.” He led her to the stairs that would take them to the catwalk that stretched out to the center of the great golden ring.
 

Mina took hold of the handrail and had just put a foot on the first step when her legs buckled. Peter caught her and gently steadied her.
 

“Don’t let von Falkenstein see you afraid,” he whispered. “Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

Pushing his hands away, she got back to her feet and began to climb, unsteadily at first, but with growing confidence, up the stairs. Peter followed close behind her, while the guards stayed on the command platform.

“If I tried to take your gun,” she whispered, “would you stop me?”

“You could take it from me, I’m sure, but it would do little good,” Peter told her. He drew the weapon in a smooth motion, ejected the magazine, which clattered to the floor below, and then ejected the round in the chamber before returning the Luger to its holster.
 

“Damn you to hell, Peter,” she breathed.

When they reached the small fitting room at the top of the stairs, they stood together for a moment in awkward silence. Then, with shaking hands, Mina undid took off the lab coat and let it fall to the floor, leaving her naked.

Averting his eyes, Peter took the harness from where it hung on a wall. It was a very simple affair, little more than a modified parachute harness with a set of pulleys on the back that would clip onto the guide cable. He held it out to her to put on, but she shook her head.

“I can’t,” she rasped, looking at him now with wide, terrified eyes. “I won’t.”

“Let me, then,” he said softly. As much as he hated this, he hated more the thought of Kleist and his minions putting their hands on her again. “Hold on to me to steady yourself.”

With her hands on his shoulders, he knelt to the floor and guided her feet through the leg straps. Stepping around behind her, he lifted the harness up, careful to make sure the leg straps didn’t bind on her thighs, and helped get her arms through the shoulder straps. Moving around to her front, he clipped the chest strap closed beneath her breasts, then adjusted all the buckles so the straps were snug but not too tight.

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, and he held her tight. She was trembling. Hearing the voices of Kleist and the others coming up the stairs, he took a hand and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. “We may not be able to stop what’s going to happen, but remember this: when you come through the far side of the gate, you’ll no longer be just an ordinary human being. If half of what von Falkenstein and Kleist say is true, you’ll be more deadly than a whole platoon of soldiers. You should be able to tear this place and everyone in it to bloody shreds. Don’t hesitate if you get the chance.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Kleist and a pair of his technicians barged into the tiny room.

“
Hauptsturmführer
Müller,” Kleist began angrily, “what do you think you are…”

“That would be
Sturmbannführer
,
Herr Doktor
,” Peter said, cutting him off. “I believe she is ready. Please check that everything is in order. Time is of the essence.”

He held Mina’s eyes as Kleist’s men checked the harness, then Kleist carefully checked everything himself, his eyes lingering hungrily on her breasts before he moved around to check her back.
 

When he was finished, he picked up the phone and reported readiness to Hoth down below, who had already begun the sequence to open the gate. “Goggles!”

Each of them grabbed a pair from where they hung from hooks on the wall. Peter handed a pair to Mina, who put them on with shaking hands.

Looking down from the door that led to the catwalk, Peter watched as Hoth took the gate through the opening sequence. The cavern thrummed as the great ring began to glow, fueled by megawatts of electricity being poured into it from the capacitors. Lightning began to dance around the ring, and the artificial sun expanded in the ring’s center. Peter flinched as the energy ball, having grown to the size of the inner boundary of the ring, collapsed, and felt the momentary tug of artificially high gravity before the gate stabilized. He stared down now into a pit of endless darkness.

Stepping back into the room, he removed his goggles and took Mina’s. “
Herr Doktor
,” he said to Kleist, “with your permission, I would like to escort the prisoner — the traveler — to the departure cage.”