Chapter III

Death From the Skies

 

The special Northrop two-seater roared through the clouds, its air-speed pointer quivering at close to 250. Dick Knight looked up through the transparent cockpit enclosure and searched the cloudless sky. There was not another ship in sight but he remained on edge. About half an hour behind them would be the Professor and Gretchen, no doubt still angry over being left behind.

“I bet she’s still cussin’ up a storm,” Doyle said, shaking his head in amusement. “That’s what she gets for treating me like a… what’d she call me? A Neanderthal?”

“Don’t let it get to you,” Knight muttered, pondering whether or not he should risk Doyle’s wrath by lighting up his pipe. “I’m more concerned about this spot we’re going. Did you pull up any history on it?”

Doyle nodded, twisting around to pull out a slim folder from a backpack. “Yeah. It’s buried underneath a large marker in Oakland Cemetery. It’s supposedly the oldest graveyard in Atlanta and is considered the # 1 place to get buried when you croak.”

“Charming.”

“Yeah. Listen, Dick, do you really think that Hitler is gonna make some kinda death ray from a bunch of old rocks?”

“We’ve seen stranger, haven’t we?”

“That’s true.”

Knight leaned forward suddenly, his keen ears detecting the telltale signs of another plane. “You hear that?”

Doyle tilted his head, peering out of the cockpit. He did hear it but its source was unknown. And then he saw it, whipping through a cloudbank off to the Northrop’s left. An Arado Ar 68 biplane was plunging down at them with blazing guns!

“Dick! Watch out!”

A volley of bullets drilled through the Northrop’s left wing as Knight yanked on the control stick, trying to veer away from the enemy plane. Doyle, cursing furiously, began breaking out the rear-pit .50's from their concealed recess. The Arado Ar 68 screamed around in a sharp turn, unleashing another attack that scorched the two-seater's tail.

“Hold tight!” Knight yelled. He drove the Northrop into a dangerous up and back motion, which drove him down tight in the seat, but he kept his wits and kicked the plane into a tight roll before jamming the stick to the right. For a brief moment, he had the enemy plane directly in his sights. By depressing the first two buttons on the stick, he caused sliding flaps to open in the wing-roots and two of his guns clattered to life.

The rear section of the enemy plane’s tail erupted into fragments as Knight pounded him with his guns. Knight saw the man’s face for a second, lit up with both anger and fear. Then the Arado darted below, forcing Knight to follow suit. By this time, Doyle was ready to join the frey, having gained access to his guns. He snapped them into place, allowing him to fire through the tunnel in the floor. The roar of the .50’s filled the cabin, momentarily drowning out the drone of the Northrop’s engine.

The pilot of the Arado shot the plane forward into a hard roll, finally spinning around to try and bring the Northrop back into his sights. Against a lesser pilot, the gambit would have worked but Richard Knight was one of a lucky few in the world for whom a plane was almost an extension of his soul. He pushed the Northrop to its upmost limit, staying on the Arado’s tail. Then he jerked up, soaring slightly above the other plane.

“Take ‘em down, Doyle!” he bellowed.

Before the words had even left his mouth, Doyle was firing his guns. The .50s struck home, leaving huge holes in the plane’s body. When several of the bullets tore through the enclosure, the pilot’s body became just as riddled.

Without anyone to control it, the Arado began to spin out of control, smoke rising from its ruined torso. Down and down it spun, finally vanishing out of sight in a massive explosion on the ground below.

Doyle relaxed, a grin on his homely face. “Hey, Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it wrong that I enjoy this stuff so much?”

Knight laughed, knowing what his friend meant. They were men of action and the rush of life-and-death battle was as addictive to them as smoke or drink was to those of lesser bent. “Stay tuned for more, my friend. I have a feeling the danger’s not over just yet.”

 

***

 

Founded as “Atlanta Cemetery” in 1850, Oakland Cemetery originally stood on six acres of land Southeast of the city. Renamed in 1872 to reflect the large number of oak and magnolia trees growing in the area, the cemetery grew as its city did. Atlanta expanded to such a degree that Oakland Cemetery was eventually located in the center of the city, its surface encompassing forty-eight acres. A Victorian-style cemetery famous for not only its beauty but the famous nature of his occupants, Oakland sold its last plots in 1884 but the newly deceased continued to be added to the cemetery – in fact, Papen saw the fresh earth of no less than three recent burials as he strode through the graves.

Belzig was moving down another path, not far away. He held a pair of gloves in one hand, repeatedly smacking them against the palm of his other hand. “I grow tired of visiting graveyards, Captain.”

“I told you – the journal didn’t say which cemetery the Stone was hidden in, only that it was buried at the base of a marker in a field of the dead. There were only so many cemeteries that were in place at that time that remain today.”

“And what if it was buried in one that does not still exist?”

Papen said nothing. He was well aware that there was that possibility… and if so, his search could come to an unhappy end.

“Captain! I think we may have found something!”

Papen hurried toward the man who had shouted, finding him standing next to a massive stone marker. The words ‘From Heaven, To Heaven’ were carved into the rock.

Papen knelt and ran his fingers through the hard Georgia clay. It was impossible to tell if something had been buried there nearly six decades before but he nonetheless felt that his subordinate was right: this had to be the place.

With a surge of excitement, he stood up and barked orders to his men. Two of them returned with shovels and they had just broken the earth when a voice yelled out, stopping them.

“Who the hell do ya think ya are?” an elderly caretaker said, hobbling toward them.

Papen sighed. He and his men usually made every effort to avoid detection but he had lost patience. This close to his goal, there could be no delay. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled forth a pistol and held it at arm’s length, the barrel pointed directly at the old man. The fellow’s eyes opened comically wide and he quickly turned, intending to flee. He took one step before Papen fired his pistol, striking him in the back of the head.

“So sloppy,” Belzig said with a shake of his head. “People could have heard that. If they come to investigate, what are you planning to do? Kill them all?”

Papen ignored him, turning back to his men. “Start digging!” he commanded. They jumped to work, while Belzig gestured to his own SS soldiers.

“Go and fetch the dead man’s corpse,” the Major said. “Dispose of him in one of the fresh graves.” Belzig lowered his voice. “And leave room for the Captain to join him.”

 

***

 

“You are insufferable,” Gretchen hissed, walking with her chin held up in a haughty fashion. Doyle was at her side, beginning to enjoy the way he kept getting under her skin. The Professor and Knight were walking in front, approaching the cemetery. Ever since the two groups had met up at the airfield, Doyle had teased her mercilessly.

“What do you have against me?” he asked, slipping one arm around her trim waist.

She yelped in surprise, twisting away from him. “Unhand me!”

“Baby, I haven’t even started to handle you.”

“You want to know why I don’t like you?”

“Sure.”

“Because you are the antithesis of my father. He is smart and kind. But he toils in obscurity. But you who are nothing more than a bundle of sinew and brute strength are given all the rewards that the world can offer!”

“Hey! I worked for everything I’ve achieved! And if people don’t give your father the royal treatment he deserves, why is that my fault? Don’t blame me for what other people do.”

Gretchen sighed, her expression softening. “I am sorry.”

Doyle almost tripped over his own feet his surprise was so great. “You are?”

“You helped save my life and I shouldn’t treat you so. You’re right – you and Herr Knight have been nothing but kind to my father.”

Doyle scratched at the back of his head. “Well. Maybe you and me can start over?” He offered her a beefy hand, which she looked at dubiously. “Friends?”

After a moment’s reflection, Gretchen took the offered hand. “Friends.”

A single gunshot filled the air and brought the foursome to a halt.

Knight held up a hand and whispered, “Doyle, come with me. Professor, you and Gretchen wait outside the gates. Try to find a bush or tree to hide you.”

As usual, General Brett had offered full military support and Knight had rejected it. Knight and Doyle preferred to keep things as small as possible – other men usually just got in the way.

The two of them hurried into the cemetery, moving in the general direction of the gunshot. Both of them were armed, brandishing their weapons like the expert gunmen they were.

“Think the Nazis already got here?” Doyle hissed.

“If it’s not Papen, then we’ve officially got the worst luck on the planet.”

Doyle wasn’t willing to disregard that possibility but as they rounded a large oak tree, both men spotted Papen. The Nazi Captain was watching as several men toiled with shovels. The large marker under which they worked matched the one depicted on the Professor’s map.

Knight gestured for Doyle to go around the other side of the marker, effectively surrounding the Germans. Dick approached Papen cautiously, careful to remain out of sight. He paused when he caught a glimpse of the two SS officers. Though they were dressed in casual clothing, he recognized their military posture.

He was pondering how to handle the situation when he realized that there was someone standing behind him. He felt the barrel of a gun dig into his back and a smarmy voice said, “Richard Knight, ja? I recognize you. International playboy and adventurer… But so much more in truth.”

Knight turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of Belzig. “And you are--?”

“Major Arnold Belzig.”

“Nice to meet you, Arnold. What’s a goosestepper like you doing so far from home?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Herr Knight. Now please drop your weapon before I have to put a bullet into your spine.”

Knight considered his options and knew that they were limited. If he got shot at this range, the mission would be over – if not his life. He tossed his pistol to the ground and waited for what would come next.

 

***

 

Doyle stared daggers at Papen. The soldiers who were digging were all armed – Doyle could see the holsters at their hips – but it would take them time to draw their weapons. Papen appeared anxious but, he too, was not standing gun-in-hand. The presence of the SS soldiers had not escaped Doyle’s notice, either. If he’d been on his own, Doyle might have reconsidered the odds. Having Dick with him evened things out, though.

Doyle waited for a moment, expecting Knight to send some sort of signal to rush in. But when none came, Doyle began to wonder what was up.

He was still considering this when one of the Germans let out an exclamation of surprised. His shovel had connected with something metallic and Papen moved closer as the men redoubled their efforts. In less than a minute, they’d exposed a metal box that looked big enough to house a loaf of bread.

Doyle looked around for some sign of Knight but there was none. Were there more Nazis on the loose than he could see? Had one of them gotten the jump on Richard?

Muttering a few expletives under his breath, Doyle tensed. If he didn’t do something soon, Papen would get away with the last of the Stones – and that was something that absolutely could not be allowed to happen.

Doyle burst from his hiding place, firing on the run. He shot at the plainclothes soldiers first. Something about how they carried themselves made it clear that they were dangerous men. His aim was true – the first bullet caught one of the men in the throat, the second nailed the second man in the forehead.

The Germans with the shovels reacted quickly but there was only so much they could do against a crack shot like Doyle. Two of them went down under a barrage of bullets and the last of them was knocked off his feet when Doyle slammed into him with his shoulder lowered. Before the Nazi could scramble back up, Doyle slammed the butt of his pistol against the top of the man’s head.

Papen stood his ground, despite his shock. While Doyle had taken out everyone else, he had possessed the foresight to draw his own gun. He held it pointed at Doyle, a smile appearing behind his Van Dyke. “Well, well. I can’t say that I’m surprised to see you here. But where is Herr Knight? Since Dieter never returned, I assume that Knight somehow pulled off one of his famous escapes.”

“Dick’s around – as a matter of fact, he’s probably taking aim on you right now.”

“I wish that were the case, pal.” Richard Knight’s words caused Doyle’s heart to fall. Dick was coming toward them with his hands raised. Immediately behind him was a froglike little man, gun in hand.

“Aw, no,” Doyle whispered. “This is a big crock-up, ain’t it?”

“You can say that again,” Knight said.

Belzig nodded approvingly at Papen. “You have the final Stone?”

Papen bent down and unfastened the clasp on the box. Inside was another of the Stones, this one slightly larger than the other one that Knight had seen. “The Fuehrer will be pleased,” Papen said, triumph lacing his words.”

“Indeed he will,” Belzig replied. “Please close the box and hand it to Herr Doyle.”

Papen’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Do as I say,” Belzig said, turning slightly so that Papen was now in his sights.

“You are a coward and a traitor,” Papen hissed, shoving the box into Doyle’s hands.

“A coward? Hah. Perhaps. But not a traitor. My oath is to no one but the Fuehrer. I will be presenting him with a wonderful new weapon – he will consider me a hero, not a traitor.”

Papen took a step toward Belzig. “I won’t allow it. It is my victory, not yours.”

Belzig laughed and it was an unpleasant sound. “You have no choice in the matter, I’m afraid.” Before anyone could react, Papen lunged for Belzig, grabbing for his gun. The Major pulled on the trigger but the bullet narrowly missed its target, instead striking Doyle in the calf of his left leg. Doyle howled and hit the ground while Knight whirled around.

The two Germans were struggling for control of the gun and it went off again, this time the bullet ricocheted off the marker and struck Doyle in the back of his wounded leg.

“For cripe’s sakes, Dick! Will ya do somethin’ about that?” Doyle bellowed.

Knight plucked up the box containing the Stone of Heaven, realizing that it had fallen from Papen’s grasp during the fight. He yanked open the lid and took out the heavy rock, cradling it in his right hand. When the Nazis rolled toward him, he bided his time and then slammed the rock down on Belzig’s temple. Blood sprayed from the wound and the Major groaned, losing his fight for the gun. Knight delivered another blow, this one sending Belzig into a painful slumber.

Papen rolled out from under his opponent, scrambling to his feet with gun in hand.

Knight stood facing him, the bloody rock held at the ready.

“I thank you, Herr Knight,” Papen said, gasping for breath. He wiped at his mouth with the back of a hand and looked around. None of the soldiers were in any position to help him and he knew that he was on his own. “Hand me the rock, if you please.”

“No.”

“Are you mad? If you don’t hand me that Stone, I’ll kill you where you stand!”

“Not with that gun you won’t. The firing pin was damaged while the two of you were rolling around. Shoot it now and you’re more likely to have it blow up in your face than you are to hit me.”

Papen hesitated, wondering for a moment if Knight could be telling him the truth. It was a ruse, of course, and when Papen’s eyes darted down to check the pistol in his hand, Knight knocked Papen’s gun hand aside. He quickly punched the German on the chin, sending him back on his heels.

Papen roared in anger, sensing that his moment of victory was once more about to be snatched from his grasp. He answered Knight’s attack with a quick flurry of blows, his own strength augmented by the weight of his gun.

Knight grunted in pain, surprised by the intensity of Papen’s blows. He twisted to the side, grabbing hold of Papen’s elbow and yanking him past. Papen’s feet tripped over Belzig’s body and he fell toward the marker, his skull slamming against it.

For a moment, his arms wrapped around the marker, holding him up. Then, with a low groan coming from Papen’s throat, his body slowly slid to the ground, leaving behind a trail of crimson.

Knight looked down at the Stone in his hand and he moved to place it back in its box before reaching down to pull Doyle upright. “You okay?”

“Dandy. Got two bullets in my leg but what the heck? I got another one.”

“You’re going to be fine. You’ve taken so many bullets, you’re basically Swiss cheese.”

“Oh!” Gretchen and her father, unable to contain themselves, had ventured into the cemetery at last. The young beauty stood not far away, fists drawn up over each cheek on her face. She was obviously not used to seeing so much death and violence. Her father didn’t seem to be made of much sterner stuff, though he did put an arm around his daughter, trying to turn her away from the gory scene.

Gretchen pulled free, straightening her back and visibly composing herself. She stared at Knight as he and Doyle came closer. “You have the Stone?” she asked.

“I do.”

“Please don’t give it to your General, not if he’s going to get the other five, too.”

“I don’t get it,” Doyle muttered. Then his eyes hardened. “Wait. You two are German… you’re not tryin’ to pull a fast one on us, are you?”

The Professor answered before his fiery daughter could explode in response. “It is nothing like that, I assure. We are not welcome in Germany as it stands now – the Fuehrer has created an environment that does not appreciate people like us. But those Stones are powerful – and I believe that O’Brady was right: they were not meant for human hands.”

“You don’t really think they’re holy, do you?” Knight asked.

“Who can say? But there is most certainly something that could lead to many more deaths.”

“Yeah – the bad guys’!” Doyle exclaimed. “It’s always best to have the biggest gun when you’re in a fight. If it’s big enough, you might not have to use it at all.”

Gretchen reached out and touched Knight’s arm. “My father has spent years researching these things. We can show you the historical records, if you want. No good ever comes from using the Stones. It not only brings death to its victims but to its owners as well. Once the other side knows you have them, they will stop at nothing to get them from you.”

For some reason, Knight didn’t dismiss the notion outright. Instead, he said, “Professor – I wouldn’t mind seeing those documents of yours.”

“Dick?” Doyle asked incredulously.

“They’re the experts,” he replied with a grin. “Besides… I haven’t made my mind up yet.”