The Phoenix Variant: The Fifth Column 3 (17 page)

The Grand Central terminal’s sub-basement was a control center from another era. The air was warm and musty and the ceiling lights were sparse, accompanied by a sagging American flag. The walls of the long, narrow sub-basement were gilded with banks of machinery and switchboards Sophia wasn’t entirely sure still operated. DC led her through the labyrinthine space until they reached what looked like a giant metal hamster’s ball.

‘The old rotary converter,’ DC said. ‘Used to supply power to the trains. Hitler even targeted it once.’

‘Where’s this OSS base of yours?’ Sophia said.

‘It’s not mine,’ he said, taking a sharp left.

She followed him through to a much narrower corridor, the ceiling crowded with a dozen pipes. Occasional lamps glowed like lone fireflies. It was warmer down here.

‘Why did they build this place?’ Sophia said.

‘Originally it was a clandestine operations center for the OSS,’ DC said. ‘After the war, things shifted a little.’

‘What kind of shift?’ Sophia said.

‘The OSS sent a special team of US soldiers to seek and capture a specific list of Nazi scientists. Chemists, biochemists with coveted achievements in particular fields. They extracted the scientists from basements, cellars, castles, byzantine caves, death row. Secreted them in the United States. In this base.’

‘What sort of achievements are we talking?’ Sophia said.

DC paused at a nondescript door and held his hand out. ‘Lockpicks.’

Didn’t he have his own?

She took a pair of full-length lockpicks from her jeans and handed them over. He crouched in front of the door and got to work. Sophia took the opportunity to remove her jacket and stow it in her ruck.

‘Their speciality was human experimentation,’ DC said. ‘Conducted under the guidance of the Ahnenerbe institutes across Germany.’

‘Sounds like Denton’s kind of people,’ Sophia said, slipping her ruck back over her shoulders.

‘Well, that is where he started,’ DC said.

‘I’m betting he’s already—’

DC shushed her and focused on picking the lock. She felt her cheeks burn.

‘If you can’t do it, just give it to me,’ she said.

‘Look, I’m good for something,’ DC said.

‘Yeah, being ambiguous,’ she said.

‘I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise,’ DC said.

The door opened and he stepped aside.

She stepped through, pausing with her hand out. He dropped the lockpicks in her grasp. His fingers lingered across her palm. She stepped through and down a flight of metal stairs blackened with grime. Dangling from exposed wires, light globes peppered her descent. At the bottom she powered on her torch and turned her body to let DC by. He held a finger to his lips as he brushed past. His scent offered slight comfort at this subterranean depth, ten stories below Grand Central terminal.

The corridor was more of a tunnel, unlit and damp. Sophia followed without a word until it opened into a larger space, connecting with three other tunnels. Before them, a blast door that was retracted.

‘Welcome to Neverland,’ DC said, stepping into the concrete foyer. The entire base was still lit, feeding off Grand Central terminal. Or at least the power was still intact. Many of the globes and tubes had deteriorated.

‘So this is where they took the Nazi scientists?’ Sophia said.

She followed him inside, checking the corners of the enormous two-level foyer. Parts of the foyer that were not concrete had peeled or fallen away, leaving rusted metal skeletons across the balconies, stairs and walls.

‘Most of them,’ DC said.

She passed a long reception desk coated in a thin layer of dust and dirt. Debris crunched underfoot.

DC paused to check the plaque at reception for directions to the different levels. He dusted it with an elbow. She knew it wouldn’t be very forthcoming but it should give them a clue at least.

‘What sort of human experimentation did they do for the OSS?’ Sophia said. ‘Were they programming operatives back in those days? Playing with viruses?’

It got a small laugh out of him. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Once they had the Nazi scientists here, they brought thousands of Army-enlisted men. The men unwittingly volunteered to expose themselves to comet-borne viruses.’

‘I almost don’t want to ask why,’ Sophia said. ‘But I will anyway.’

He turned to meet her gaze.

‘Why?’ she said.

‘Easy.’ DC started up the stairs. ‘They wanted to make Captain America.’

‘Who’s that?’ Sophia said. Her voice bounced off the concrete walls.

DC paused in mid-step and studied her. ‘You’re j—you don’t know,’ he said. ‘He was a new comic book superhero in the forties. They used to draw him fighting Nazis and punching Hitler.’ DC continued up the stairs. ‘He was injected with an experimental serum that imbued him with greater powers.’

Sophia snorted. ‘Like the Chimera vector?’

‘Sort of,’ DC said.

‘Are you sure it wasn’t the other way around?’ Sophia said, climbing the stairs after him. ‘You know, sounds like Captain America was inspired by the virus testing they did here.’

DC waited, watching her from behind a crumbling balustrade. She almost stumbled on a step and blushed.

‘Who knows?’ he said. ‘The OSS
did
recover a serum the Nazis developed during the war.’

‘Denton was ranting about a Nazi serum,’ Sophia said.

She caught up with him and continued through the upper level. The paint was peeling from the walls and some of the fluorescent tube lights dangled from one end. Sophia moved between them.

‘That serum kept Denton young and cunning for decades,’ DC said.

‘At least until he cashed in on the Chimera vector,’ Sophia said.

‘Yeah,’ DC said, following her. ‘The Chimera vector was … sexy in many ways.’

She turned to find his gaze was lower than it should’ve been.

‘Superior,’ he said. ‘Superior in many ways.’

It was his turn to blush.

She continued walking, keeping her smile to herself.

They reached a new courtyard. Vibrant green moss had bloomed out from what was once a thriving garden in the center but was now overrun by lichen. The moss spiraled around the pillars and curled over the balconies. Sophia wondered how many more decades before the entire base became a spongy emerald labyrinth.

The ceiling above was decorated with a large circular mosaic of what Sophia assumed was the OSS emblem. A pair of metallic eagle’s wings, or paratrooper wings. The eagle’s head, however, had been replaced by a single eye. The eye was large and gaped down at them, bits of the mosaic missing from the pupil.

‘OSS emblem?’ Sophia said.

DC shook his head. ‘It was a golden spearhead, and then it was a snake and thirteen stars. This looks like the Chinese Commando para wings, except there’s no parachute. Just a giant creepy eye.’

‘Maybe it’s the Fifth Column emblem?’ Sophia said, grinning.

DC shook his head and returned the smile. ‘I’ve never seen one,’ he said. ‘But this would be pretty close I guess.’

‘So, where to, Cap?’ Sophia said.

‘You’re the Cap, not me,’ DC said. ‘I’m
au naturel
.’

‘Sophia is fine,’ she said. ‘No Captain.’

‘You don’t speak Spanish?’ DC said.

‘That’s French.’

‘Oh,’ DC said. ‘Well anyway, it should be in containment on level six.’ He pointed to the moss garden below. ‘That’s level one.’

‘Five more below that,’ Sophia said. ‘We need to get a move on.’

‘I’ll lead the way—’ DC said.

But Sophia had started down the stairs to the courtyard.

‘Or you can,’ he said.

The moss in the courtyard was as tall as grass, springing back after each step. She moved into the center, eyeing the two diverging hallways ahead of them. DC walked down the stairs behind her.

DC said, ‘Be careful walking through—’

The ground gave way under her feet. She reached out but there was nothing to grab hold of. The entire courtyard fell beneath her. Moss, marble, plaster, debris—all of it. The heavy debris plummeted below, banging off rafters and beams. She fell after it, crashing through a plaster ceiling. It was like frozen powder, exploding under her feet the moment she landed. She kept falling. Another ceiling tore apart below, battered by chunks of marble. She scratched for the edge of the hole, but slipped through. Damp air filled her nostrils. She tried to grab a passing metal beam but it knocked her off-course, crushing the air from her lungs. She gasped. Everything spun, blurred. She drifted for the wall. Crashed into it, slid downwards. Dust and bits of debris stung her eyes. She dragged herself on the wall, slowing her fall. Hooked something. She let go so it didn’t dislocate her shoulder, but it was enough to slow her down.

She landed stomach-first on a large plastic pipe. It was too large to grasp but she managed to sling an arm around it, hanging by her armpit. The momentum sent her swinging under the pipe. She lost her grasp and found purchase on a thin metal frame. Both hands. She held firmly, swinging like a gymnast. Plaster flakes decorated the air around her like confetti.

‘Sophia!’ DC yelled from high above.

His voice echoed. She wanted to curse him for being so loud, then remembered she’d just caved in the center of the entire base and that had probably annoyed him more. But he didn’t call out again.

She looked up to see how far she’d fallen. Just above her, a giant slab of concrete was wedged in the chasm, dragging slowly on the edges. She recognized the two wings and the giant eye in the mosaic. The courtyard’s ceiling had fallen down the chasm after her. A few protrusions in the corners of the walls of the chasm had ground its descent to a halt. She saw powder fall from the corners and realized the halt would be a temporary one. If it came free, she would be crushed underneath.

She changed her grip on the metal frame so one hand was under and the other over. The frame started to bend. She looked around for something else. Below her was a dark chasm with bits of falling plaster and moss. She could hear chunks of heavy debris crashing below. Even if she avoided the mosaic slab, she would break her legs if she landed. She searched the walls. Plenty of things to grasp—broken outcrops of beams and pipes—but none of them anywhere near her.

She noticed a small metal rod protruding from a cavity in the wall beside her. It was damaged, curling downwards into the shape of a hook. The majority of the rod was firmly secured in concrete and would hold her weight.

She kept looking. There was nothing larger. The wall was sheer, flat, without texture. She was far between levels. Nothing but hard rock and concrete around her. The chasm—which might’ve originally served some sort of purpose—ran deep through the levels of the base. There was another level below her, exposed by the fallen debris. If she dropped straight down she’d fall through a big hole the debris had torn through it. But if she could swing away from the hole, she could land on firmer ground. Problem was, she had no means of doing so.

She reconsidered the hooked metal rod. She had the two carabiners attached to the carrying handle of her ruck, just behind her neck. The carrying handle was exceptionally strong. She’d attached the carabiners to it for good reason.

She released one hand from the metal frame. The frame groaned and she felt it drop her a few more inches. Slowly, not wanting to jerk or wrench the frame, she reached behind her head for the non-locking carabiner, the one not wrapped in paracord. Her elbow reached its limit. She was just able to grasp the carabiner. She breathed slowly, listened to the slab grind above her.

‘Come on,’ she whispered.

She pressed down with her thumb and disengaged the carabiner from the carrying handle. Holding it tightly, she returned her hand to the metal frame.

The small hooked rod was just out of reach. She had to get closer to the wall to reach it. She held the frame with both hands and shuffled carefully across to the wall. The slab above her growled and shifted some more. Powder sprinkled over her face, sticking to a layer of sweat. She reached over with one hand and hooked the carabiner onto the curled rod.

The carabiner clasped.

Engaged.

The slab crashed through.

She let go of the frame. Fell through the chasm.

The paracord unspooled from her ruck. She didn’t look up, but she could hear the slab roar from above. It was heavier than her, gained fast. She dropped towards the next level. She hoped the paracord had enough length.

The paracord drew taut.

Her descent stopped suddenly, her ruck pulling hard on her shoulders. She hung from the carabiner, dangling chest-down. Her armpits had kept her from slipping out of the ruck. The slab bore down on her.

Her sudden halt sent her into a fast swing under the falling slab. She saw the edge of the hole come rushing towards her. Firm ground. She reached out. The swing carried her through onto the debris-coated floor.

The slab fell behind her, through the chasm. She heard it grind, tip sideways and fall quicker. Her paracord drew taut. Hurled her across the floor. She slid back towards the chasm. The slab must’ve snagged the other carabiner. The speed and force of it pulling her was too great to wriggle out of the ruck’s shoulder straps. She was strapped in for the ride.

Her hand moved for the knife on her belt. The paracord tossed her onto one side, tearing at her jacket. She reached up and pulled the carabiner hard, lifting the paracord off the ground. She brought her knife under it and sliced.

The paracord frayed.

She kept working on it, her knife lacking a serrated edge. The edge of the chasm came up fast. She slashed the paracord again.

Half cut.

The edge of the hole came rushing to meet her. She slashed again.

The paracord severed.

She came to a sudden stop, dangling half over the edge. Knife in hand, she looked down into the darkness and saw the mosaic slab disappear. She tried to catch her breath. She heard the slab hit water.

Then she also heard debris shift behind her. She looked back to find a pistol aimed precisely at her head.

The operative wore a cherry-red leather jacket and a belt with enough room to slip a pistol down her jeans. Sophia recognized her as the operative from the museum who had been abducted by those masked Blue Berets. Denton had obviously gotten her back when he raided the Waldorf Astoria.