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New York City
Six Weeks Later
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The offices of Kane Industries were strangely quiet when John Kane entered. His employees, who normally greeted him warmly, cast nervous glances in his direction and said only a few words before hurrying away. His footsteps echoed down the quiet hall as he walked to his office. It was odd. He had only been gone for a few months, but they treated him like a stranger.
Patricia, his longtime secretary, nearly jumped out of her skin when he stepped through the door. “Mister Kane! It’s you!”
“Who else would it be?” He tried and failed to flash his trademark confident smile, but it fizzled.
The events at the Night Queen’s temple had a profound effect on him. Until the moment Yineput rose from the dead, he hadn’t truly believed in the supernatural. Magda’s Nazi friends and his own Illuminati allies were true believers. Kane always leaned toward a scientific explanation for anything that appeared to defy the known laws of nature. But he was deeply indebted to both and had no choice but to indulge their every whim—pyramid power, the Bermuda Triangle, Egyptian curses, and all the rest.
A wave of shame washed over him at the thought of Magda. When he had come to, the Anubis warriors were slaughtering his men. Kane had fled like a coward with no thought for anyone but himself.
At least I’m alive. Which is more than I can say for Magda.
“They told us you were dead.” Patricia directed a glance at Kane’s office door.
Kane wasn’t surprised. It had taken him a week to find his way back to Luxor. He had arrived sunburned, dehydrated, and half-starved. The specter of the Night Queen haunted his dreams and he saw jackal-headed warriors around every corner. He spent a week holed up in a hotel room with the door locked and the curtains drawn before he summoned the strength and courage to make the journey home.
“Who told you that?”
Patricia blanched. She swallowed hard, cocked her head toward the door. “In there,” she whispered.
Kane frowned, opened the office door and stepped inside. He was immediately confronted by a hulking man with snow white hair.
“Mister Kane, it is good to see you,” the man said in a thick German accent. His meaty paw engulfed Kane’s as they shook hands.
Kane was thoroughly befuddled. Who was this man and what was he doing in Kane’s office?
“I fear you have the advantage of me, Mister...”
“My name is Gerhard.”
“You’re with the Germans, obviously.”
“That is correct, but I also represent another group.” He flashed the sign of the All Seeing Eye. A Nazi and an Illuminatus.
“I fear I have only bad news for the men you represent,” Kane said. “Our mission was a complete failure. I was the only survivor.”
“You do not have to explain yourself to me, Mister Kane,” Gerhard said. “I am here to assist the new director of Kane Industries.”
“New director?” Kane’s head swam. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“Your loans were called due two weeks ago. All of them. Your businesses now belong to us.”
“This is intolerable! I nearly died for you people.”
“Your sacrifices are appreciated, which is why you are still alive. We believe you can still be useful. You will remain director, but as a figurehead only. You will now take orders from the actual director.”
Gerhard stepped aside. Someone was seated at Kane’s desk with their back to him. Anger surged through him. That was his desk, his chair, and his company!
“Who are you?” Kane demanded.
The chair slowly spun about. A beautiful blonde woman sat there. She wore a patch over her right eye. Her smile was a cold, disquieting thing.
“Magda!”
“Hello, John. Nice to see you again. Even if it is only with one eye.”
“I thought the Night Queen killed you.” Kane felt numb all over.
“But you didn’t wait around to find out, did you? You ran like a frightened little girl.”
The world spun. Kane staggered and dropped into the closest chair. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you are. A sorry excuse for a man.”
“What was I supposed to do? We were facing creatures out of hell.”
“I did not run.” Fischer pounded the desk with her fist. “I suppose that is what I get for putting so much stock in an American. You are all mongrels, your blood tainted by your ridiculous ‘melting pot’.”
Kane didn’t know what to say. He held his tongue until he could bear the silence no more. “What happened to your eye?” It was a foolish question, but he could think of nothing else to say.
“Brock Stone shot me.”
“Stone? He survived?”
“Him, Trinity Paige, his friend with the hook hand, the girl from the bureau, they were all there at the end. You would know that if you hadn’t run away.”
“I will end him,” Kane said. “I will take revenge on all of them.”
“Brock Stone is no longer your problem. You are now my faithful hound, and you will do as you are told. And we have more important matters to attend to.”
“I will do whatever I can to make it up to you,” Kane said.
“I know you will. And I promise, if you abandon me again, the consequences will be dire.” Fischer leaned forward and lifted her eye patch. Where her eye had been, a tiny black cloud roiled. “The Night Queen is not entirely dead.”
Kane slumped back in his chair, rendered speechless by what he had just seen. Fischer replaced her eye patch and sat back.
“Gerhard, fetch Mister Kane a cup of coffee. Two sugars and two creams.”
“That is how my mother takes it,” Gerhard said. He and Fischer exchanged amused glances. Kane’s face burned with shame. “Would you like your coffee in a mug, or something more delicate, like a teacup?”
“Leave it, Gerhard,” Fischer said. “He has the rest of his life to face up to his cowardice. And who knows, he might even reclaim his manhood.”
“Just tell me what it is you want from me,” Kane said through gritted teeth.
“I am working with a man called Heinrich Himmler,” Fischer said. We are heading up a new division of the Schutzstaffel. It is called the Ahnenerbe.””
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The End
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