Paul tossed the leather case filled with cash onto the passenger seat as he ducked into his car. He smirked as he turned the engine over and revved it to life. The motor was racing like his heart. He had pulled it off. He had deceived Russo and, evident by the cash beside him, his superiors as well. Now it was finally over. The government was satisfied he’d revealed all he knew about his brother’s work, and thanks to a fortuitous twist of fate, Forrester was out of his life. Daniel could rest in peace. His secrets were safe.
Paul blew out a relieved breath as he gripped the wheel. He was sure he was in trouble when Russo set their meeting in an isolated building on the wrong side of town and tossed a pen and paper under his nose, demanding full disclosure. He thought they had miraculously broken his brother’s code and discovered the secret that had cost so many so much.
It seemed so long ago that his brother had come to him in desperation. It was the summer before the U.S. officially entered the war. To most, in 1941, the conflict was still something that was going on over there, but Paul Ryan suddenly found the war deposited solidly at his doorstep.
“I need your help,” Daniel had said.
“Well, well, well,” Paul had replied. “What brings the golden child to kneel at my feet?”
He was only half kidding and normally would have received a retort in the same vein, but not this time.
“I’m in serious trouble, Paulie,” Daniel had said as he pushed inside and closed the door.
His childhood name, not heard in years, sobered Paul and took him back to the innocent days of tree house forts and endless summers, when cross your heart and hope to die forged a trust that would not be broken.
Daniel peered past his brother’s shoulder. “Where’s Bets?”
“She’s out back in the garden.”
He nodded and seemed relieved they were alone. “I’m going to do something, Paul, and there’s a good chance it may get me killed.”
“Then don’t do it,” was Paul’s immediate response, still not certain his brother was serious.
“I don’t have a choice. They’ll come after Jenny.”
Paul was stunned for a moment as he processed the absurdity of the statement. “Jenny? What has she got to do with it? What have you done, Danny?”
Daniel faltered and looked away. Paul could tell from his pained expression that something was tearing him up inside, but he remained silent.
Paul grabbed him by the shoulders. “Dan!”
Reluctantly, Daniel raised his eyes. He made vague references to a Department of War project, but balked when pushed for details.
Paul reminded his brother that he knew his general area of expertise and that it wasn’t hard to put two and two together and realize the project was some sort of biological weapon. What he couldn’t understand was how his niece became involved.
“What about Jenny?”
Daniel knew his weak spot. He need only mention a danger to Jenny and Paul would move heaven and earth to protect her. Daniel claimed she was safe for the moment, but it would only be a matter of time before desperation would bring about drastic measures and his daughter’s safety would be used as a bargaining chip. Classified military secrets aside, Daniel knew Paul needed to know what he was up against.
“When I’m gone, the government may come to you looking for answers.”
“Gone? Government?”
“They may get rough, threaten you, push you around. But stand firm. I’m going to give you what you need to appease them.”
“Appease? Danny, what the Sam Hill are you talking about?”
Daniel shook his head in frustration. “Trust me when I tell you, they’ll come for you, Paul.”
Paul straightened and then relaxed, skeptical. “Surely, you’re overreacting. My God, this isn’t Nazi Germany. Our government doesn’t go around—”
Daniel stabbed his finger into Paul’s chest in a sudden burst of anger. “Do not underestimate our government’s capacity for treachery!” He held fast to his rage to punctuate his warning and then backed off, fighting to control his emotions. “You have no idea, Paul.”
Paul held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, Danny, okay. Take it easy.”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence as Daniel backed off to compose himself.
Paul didn’t know this man before him. His brother was always in control, always confident and quick with a plan. There was nothing he couldn’t do. He need only set his mind to it. Seeing Daniel writhing under the weight of desperation, driven by fear—Paul wondered how he could have fallen so far.
With the utmost respect, he put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and quietly asked, “What have you done, Danny?”
Daniel closed his eyes. His weary exhale told Paul his confession was a last resort, so he squeezed his shoulder and let him reveal it in his own time.
“I’ve been working with some men on a project.”
“What men?”
“Germans.”
“Why would the government—” Paul realized the government had nothing to do with it. He blinked in disbelief and released his brother’s shoulder in reflexive disgust.
Daniel held up a hand. “It’s not what you think.”
“You’re giving information to the Nazis behind our government’s back, Dan. There aren’t many ways to take that.”
“I said Germans. Not Nazis.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Don’t be so narrow-minded, Paul. These men were my friends. Brilliant men of science—”
“Are you mad?” Paul interrupted. “No German is your friend. They are hell bent on world domination, and you’re giving them the keys to the kingdom! You’re betraying your—”
Daniel grabbed his brother by the biceps. “Would you please shut up and listen to me!”
Paul was undaunted. “They’re Germans!”
“They’re dead!” Daniel shouted. “My friends are dead!”
Silence absorbed the echoing anger of their voices and Daniel released his hold. Paul was ready to listen.
“They’re dead for refusing to work for the Nazis. They raided their labs after they killed them, and now I fear the worst.”
Paul considered his brother carefully. He was not a foolish man, nor was he naïve. He certainly wasn’t a traitor. If he trusted those men, they were worthy of it.
Underestimating the Nazis seemed to be a universal epidemic. His brother and his friends were just more victims, crushed under the relentless columns of hobnailed boots as they marched over Europe.
“The Nazis have your research.”
Daniel nodded solemnly. “I fear so.”
“How bad is it?”
“If it’s true? Catastrophic.”
“What do you mean, if it’s true?”
“It’s complicated.”
Of course it was. Everything about Daniel was complicated. It always had been, and this was no different. If he was going to help his brother and keep Jenny safe, he demanded to know the details. Either his brother trusted him or he didn’t. Daniel relented, albeit guardedly. It wasn’t a matter of trust, he claimed, but a matter of safety. The less Paul knew, the less he could tell under duress. He told his brother only what he wanted known, only what, with a little searching, could be easily exposed.
As Paul listened to scientific medical jargon he had no hope of understanding, he saw glimpses of the passion and precision that made his brother so successful in his field. He felt the weight of his brother’s sense of betrayal, as a lifetime’s worth of work devoted to saving lives was turned in on itself, in an attempt to create a viable weapon that would alter the balance of power and assure the U.S. a victory as they were drawn inexorably into the escalating war.
Daniel explained the government’s desire for such a weapon, the need, and, eventually, as casualties built up, the desperation that would force such a drastic measure—by either side. But this was not the way. It could never be the way. Even with a vaccine, such a weapon would never be safe. Mutation, the bane of his scientific existence, would soon render any vaccine obsolete. His own government acknowledged this yet ordered him to press on. It was then that he realized the extent of their determination and the folly of their logic.
Victory at all costs.
A moment of arrogant satisfaction followed by devastation, as mankind drowned in a cesspool of death and disease, wasn’t a victory worth savoring.
“Anyone with the most rudimentary knowledge of virology knows that outcome is assured,” Daniel went on, frustrated. “The Nazi scientists know this. But do they care? Do we?”
Paul didn’t know the first thing about virology, but he suspected the questions were rhetorical. As Daniel unfolded his story, he remained silent. Complicated was an understatement and catastrophic was kind.
His brother and a group of his like-minded scientific brethren had spent their lives dedicated to the etiology of the virus. The war separated them, but their work went on. It had to go on. They knew what was at stake, which is why they all agreed that should a vaccine ever be found, they would keep it between themselves until it was needed toward its intended purpose—to stop the threat of another pandemic if the virus appeared again.
But now the Nazis had access to their research, their triumphs, and their failures. It could be the end of everything, but Paul sensed they didn’t have everything, a notion upheld by his brother’s silence. Daniel had a secret.
“What aren’t you telling me, Dan?”
“It’s not important,” he insisted dismissively.
“I doubt that.”
“It’s not important to you or why I’ve come to you.”
For the moment, Paul allowed it to be unimportant and focused on his brother’s immediate plight. If he was astounded by the machinations that brought his brother to such an impossible situation, he was doubly astounded by his solution.
Daniel saw no other way to keep the reins on his project than by offering to ally with the Nazis. He would share misleading information to draw out his counterpart in the Nazi project. Promises of collaboration and rumors that he had successfully created the elusive vaccine would do it. He could then be on the inside to continue confounding researchers and keeping them from the truth, just as he had done at home. There was only one man he knew who could discreetly organize such an unholy alliance, and when his older brother heard the name Marcus Forrester, he was livid.
“You’re in league with the devil!”
Daniel chuckled humorlessly. “You mean Forrester or the Nazis?”
“How could you get involved with that man? You know what he can do.”
“As did you.”
“What’s that crack supposed to mean?”
“I know you’ve had dealings with Marc Forrester.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know how you bought the paper.”
Paul was silent for a moment and then raised his chin, trying to salvage some modicum of dignity as his pride fell to his feet. “What of it?”
“You should have come to me, Paulie. I’d have given you the money.”
“Well, that would have defeated the purpose, don’t you think?”
The two men stared at each other, as the ensuing silence magnified all the years of sibling rivalry, all the years of condescension, all the years of estrangement, all the years—all the wasted years. They had been stripped of the trappings of their egos and conceit and were faced with the naked truth of their fragile mortality.
Paul refused to accept that they had run out of time.
“This is absurd, Dan. Forrester is bad enough, but the Nazis?” He shook his head. “I won’t let you do it.”
Daniel pulled a small leather-bound journal from his jacket pocket. “Not your decision. Now—”
“I’m not helping you commit what amounts to suicide.”
Ignoring Paul’s protests, Daniel held out the journal. “If something should happen to me, this is for Jenny.”
Paul pushed it away along with the suggestion. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Dan.”
“Guard it. Keep it someplace safe. One day she’ll have questions. You’ll know when, and she’ll know what to do with the answers.”
“Danny …”
“Paul.” He grasped his brother’s arm and sent all his concern and urgency through his tightening fingers. “It’s important. It’s everything—all I can give her now.”
Paul stopped objecting and watched tears well up in his brother’s eyes. Confirmation of lost hope was the last thing he wanted to see. He had never seen Dan so undone. He was like a condemned man on his last hour, desperate to justify his life, his choices—to be understood and forgiven.
Paul realized he may well lose his brother and tried to push away the thought of it, unable to conceive such a loss.
“Dan, this is ridiculous. There’s got to be something we can do. Hide you, fake your death—something. We’ll go to Dominic. His people can make you disappear. You can start a new life.”
Daniel said it was tempting, but he had turned a blind eye to the questionable moral and ethical decisions of his superiors during the 1918 pandemic crisis. He did what he could, but it wasn’t nearly enough to ease the haunting guilt of his silence.
Now the Nazis had hold of the project. He was well aware that morals and ethics were silent hostages to their brutal experiments, and he would not allow history to repeat itself. He had a voice now, and the power, and he would not fail to exact it, no matter the cost.
He pushed the journal into his brother’s midsection. “Just take care of this, Paulie. Please. I’m counting on you.”
Paul refused to take it. “I won’t help you do this.”
Daniel’s eyes grew dark and cold. “Then they’ll come after Jenny in retribution! Is that what you want? To lose us both?”
As the hopelessness of the situation sank in, Paul knew there was no need to reply or question. He was sure his brother had thought of every possible alternative. The situation had moved far beyond the point of protest. He solemnly took the small journal.
“There’s no way out for me, Paul. I can’t tell our government the truth, and when they find out what I’ve done, I’ll be executed for treason. You can imagine what the Nazis will do when they find out I’ve deceived them, and I assure you, they will find out. And Forrester … well, he’s the least of my worries. Ours is just a business transaction.”
“What does he get?”
Daniel hesitated.
“What does he get, Dan?”
“A piece of the action when the vaccine is produced.”
“But … there won’t be a vaccine.”
Daniel’s indifferent look reiterated his resignation and his prophetic demise. “No, there won’t.”
Paul exhaled any hope he’d been holding and stared at the book in his hands: his brother’s abridged life, trapped between ruled lines and cloaked in misdirection as a memento to his beloved daughter. It wasn’t at all fitting. Not at all.
“Tell me what I need to know.”
Daniel gently placed a comforting hand on his arm, acknowledging the dark shroud they now both shared.
Paul tried to close his heart and mind to the powerful emotions he felt flowing from his brother’s touch. It was overwhelming. Daniel’s guilt, grief, loss, and regret joined with his own to brand his soul, and the pain spread through his body like a wildfire until he thought his knees would buckle.
His brother’s hand fell away, its energy sapped, and Paul looked for any distraction to regain his composure. He opened the stiff cover of the journal in his numb hands to find a personal inscription to Jenny on the facing page. He quickly passed over it, disallowing thoughts of her imminent grief, and thumbed blindly through the pages until he reached the end. He offered a final glance at his brother’s history fanned out before him and noticed the handwritten text within appeared to be gibberish. He looked up, hurt.
“Coded? You don’t trust me.”
Daniel vehemently disagreed. “I’m trusting you with that and Jenny’s life. There’s no one I trust more.”
Paul held up the journal. “And the key?”
“We’ll get to that. For now, it’s best you know as little as possible.” He pulled an envelope from his back pocket and handed it over. “This is for when they come to you. It’s the story you’ll tell them. They’ll be satisfied it’s all you know, and it will all be over. Draw it out for as long as you safely can. Play hard to get, but not too hard. I want them to focus on you. Keep Jenny out of this. She needn’t know anything about it.” He paused and suddenly looked lost. “It’ll be hard enough on her when—” His voice trailed off, his regret for his daughter’s heartbreak left unsaid.
Paul nodded numbly. The scene was so surreal. Here was his spirited brother, plotting the course of his affairs like a terminally ill man arranging his funeral.
“And this is for you,” Daniel said softly as he handed over another envelope. “Everything I never said and should have.” His words were barely a whisper, and he swallowed his rising emotions as he made a feeble attempt at a smile. “Life seems dreadfully brief all of a sudden.”
“Dan …” Paul was beyond protest, beyond disbelief. He had no words, only the tears now welling in his own eyes.
They embraced, reluctant to let go. The tangle of strong arms made them one man, united by death, the great leveler. Years would have to be lived in a few disconsolate moments. Time was no longer a luxury. They had work to do.
Their relationship would be the first victim of the plan. They would keep their distance and feign contempt for each other in public when at all possible. Everyone was aware of their rivalry, so no one would question they’d had a falling out. Hopefully then, his apparently estranged brother would be the last person they’d look to for answers when the carefully planned betrayal could no longer be suppressed.
His work was too important to destroy, and too dangerous in the wrong hands, so it was carefully coded and hidden in plain sight. In his letter, Daniel had given Paul the basics of his research and just enough extra detail to make the information seem like a legitimate breakthrough. If worse came to worst, Paul would recount it and the government’s curiosity would be sated.
As for Jenny, she was young and innocent. Daniel knew she was only useful as leverage while he was alive. Once something happened to him, he was reasonably certain she would be safe. Paul understood the danger and would see to her safety, above all else.
The brothers played their parts perfectly. A year went by uneventfully, and Paul thought Daniel was just being paranoid.
Everything changed as 1942 arrived. Daniel’s worst nightmare had begun. Someone was becoming frantic for a solution, and the first act of desperation left two of his top researchers dead.
Paul remembered Daniel was far too calm the last time he talked to him.
“It’s time to give them what they want,” he had said.
Paul shut his eyes against the memory. He could still hear the hollow desolation of the crackling phone line, as neither man knew how to let the other go.
Finally, a shaky voice said, “I don’t know how to say goodbye, Paul.”
“Then let’s not.”
The cold silence grew exponentially with each passing second, until Daniel put them both out of their misery and disconnected the call. Twenty-four hours later, he was dead.
The engine in Paul’s Cadillac purred softly in the background as he blinked away a tear and wiped his nose with the handkerchief from his breast pocket. He sniffed away his emotions and put the car into drive.
“It’s done, Danny.”
If only he had been right.