“Rodent, this is Eagle, do you copy? Rodent, this is Eagle, do you copy?”
Frustrated, Monk pressed his throat mike and said, “Nest, no contact yet.”
A voice sounded in his earpiece. “Eagle, orders still stand. Observe and report,” First Lieutenant Carpenter said.
-------
General West stood quietly behind Carpenter, monitoring the radio chatter. He took a quick look at the center screen in the situation room and noted the time. His covert team was already in the castle carrying out their own separate orders to recover all the information possible, secure the site, and eliminate all within. West studied the far left screen showing the radar image of the area. An Air Force C-130, carrying two Ranger units, was headed to the drop-off point 20 minutes away. His timing had to be right if he was going to use the Rangers. He couldn’t risk the Army units running into his team if things began to go south.
If his insertion team ran into trouble it would become an intelligence-gathering mission. Once done, they had standing orders to destroy all evidence and disappear before the Rangers dropped in. The Rangers would then take over and clean up any loose ends. Reports would be lost. Soldiers would keep their silence. West would then have to make sure he would control the investigation team.
On the other hand, if all went as planned—as he suspected it would—he would not deviate the Ranger squadron. They would run their preplanned military exercise. The Omega team had the best weapons and protection, which increased their success rate twofold. Like the Rangers, Omega would secure the site. Then they would send him to secretly oversee the project.
-------
Back up in the high Alps, Monk looked at the Motorola’s radio screen. “Come on, Commander...” he urged.
“Eag...is...ent...co...”
Monk smiled as the voice of his commanding officer crackled through the airwaves. “Nest. I think we have contact.” He went back to the Motorola.
“Rodent, this is Eagle. You’re breaking up.”
“Is this better?” Val’s voice came clearly over the small communications device.
“Yes, Rodent. Copy you, five-by-five.”
“Five-by-five. Lay it out for me, Eagle,” Val said, asking Monk to describe the situation from his perspective.
“SNAFU, sir. Ordered by headquarters to remain at post and observe. Suggest you evac through hangar. Will have cover. We have unfriendlies in compound, eight paratroopers about 20 minutes ago, followed by about 30 more, 10 minutes ago. Paratroopers are unknown; we believe to be mercs. We have ourselves a serious firefight within the castle. Sir. Again, you will have cover once at hangar, but before there you are on your own.”
“Where is the main concentration?”
“They are all inside now. Two-thirds went in through the castle, the other third through hangar. I have two eagle eyes ready for cover, plus four heavy assault. Waiting for your orders.”
“Roger. We will come up through the hangar. Will contact as soon as in area. Stand by to cover. Do you have retreat plan effective?”
“Sir, we are all jumpers if necessary, but will stay for incoming if possible.”
“Roger. Rodent out.”
“Good hunting, sir. Eagle out.”
-------
Val switched frequencies. “Pierre?”
“Oui?”
“Wheels up!”
“D’accord.”
Val turned to face Max from the window ledge to see that he was dressed in his aviator’s getup and shook his head. “By the way, Baron, have I told you that you look ridiculous in that getup?”
“Save it, Val. I think he looks dashing.” Val was surprised to hear Solange’s voice. Both she and Ditter had been very quiet since the stairwell incident.
“So, you two okay?”
“We will be, once we get out of here.”
“Don’t worry, miss, I think we should be safe by now,” Collins said.
“Yes and no,” Val said, then jumped down from the windowsill and brushed the snow off his pants.
“I hate it when he speaks like a Chinese prophet,” Max said as he tied the belt of his aviator coat.
“By the way, you take care of that arm?” Val asked.
“Yeah, the bullet fragment was in the surface tissue. No big deal. Collins pulled it out.”
“Aren’t you the brave one,” Val snickered.
“If you don’t mind, Val, how do we get out of here?” a frustrated Dean asked.
Val looked down to the ground 50 feet below, and analyzed the situation. “You’re not gonna like it.”
“Swell. What now?”
“Ditter, can you get us to the hangar from the warehouse you told us about?”
“Yes, the ramp up to the hangar is at the far end.”
“Okay, we can’t go out this window…no ropes, and the castle is a battle zone. Only option is that we have to take the long way to the green warehouse.”
“What do you mean?” asked Solange.
“He means we have to run all the way back down only to go back up again through the elevator shaft,” said Max.
“Is there any other way to the green warehouse?” Solange interjected.
“Yes…what the lady said. And what do we do when we run into the bad guys? What? We’ll just throw these empty guns at them when they start shooting at us?” Collins said sarcastically.
Max looked at Ditter. “Ditter, is that our only choice?” he asked.
“That is the only way to the green warehouse, up the elevator shaft.”
“Okay, that settles it. We take the Ditter way out,” said Val.
“What way?” asked Dean.
“We find a mode of transport in the green warehouse, preferably a tank like before, and drive up and out into the hangar.”
“Well, as I recall, there are no tanks in the green warehouse, and I didn’t see any cars when they captured us,” Ditter said.
“We will just have to cross that bridge when we get to it,” Max said.
“Yes, but what do we do if we run into trouble?” asked Collins once more.
Max walked back toward the entrance of the room’s secret passage. “What do we have left firepower-wise?”
“I have my .45 and Dean the Schofield, and one clip each for the grease guns. Oh, and the De Lisle rifles. They have the .45 clips and are interchangeable. What about you guys?” asked Collins.
Val checked his MP5. He had one clip left. “Well, I guess we have to make them count!” he said.
Max picked up the triple rifle he had hidden behind a box and loaded the breach. Dean curiously looked on and was about to ask a question when Max spoke. “I have this…” he said as he snapped the elephant rifle closed. “Take out the clips and leave the rifles. Ready?”
Collins and Dean removed the clips from the rifles and placed them in their pockets.
“Dean, Collins, you are behind me.” Max looked at the exhausted group, “Okay. Let’s do this!” he said as he stepped back into the secret passage.
-------
The sounds of rapid gunfire grew louder the closer they came to the library’s secret entrance. Max heard muffled yelling coming from the peephole. He stopped and motioned for everyone to be quiet.
“What are you doing?” asked Dean. “We don’t have time for this…” he whispered into Max’s ear.
“Give me a sec, will ya?” Max said as he opened the peephole hatch. He saw two soldiers sporting red-cross armbands salute and head out the room’s door. He could see Wehr as he adjusted a wooden crate on his desk, then proceeded to attack it with a pry bar. He dug into its sides until the top gave way, revealing what was inside.
Wehr reached in and pulled out a glass cube. Inside the cube was a perfect black sphere. He put it next to the Tiffany lamp to get a better look in the dim light. As the orb got closer to the lamp, the light bulb started to become brighter, as if more power was being sent into it. Wehr curiously put the orb closer to the bulb and squinted his eyes as the light grew in intensity, until the bulb burst. He looked at the orb suspiciously, then carefully put it in an aluminum briefcase next to the crate.
Another explosion shook the room, and Wehr looked up at the chandelier’s crystals as they collided into each other. He reached into the crate once more and pulled out three long, golden metallic tubes, put two of them in the briefcase, and studied the third in his hand.
Wehr smiled at this newfound artifact and reached back into the crate, pulling out a folder. He looked from the folder to the object, as if reading instructions. Wehr twisted the object in his hand and with a soft click pulled out a scroll and unrolled it onto the table. He looked at the scroll and ran his index finger down it, studying the folder at the same time. A knock came from the door, followed by another distant explosion.
“Ditter, come here, see if you can hear anything,” Max whispered as he stepped away from the wall.
“Do we really have time for this?” Dean asked again through clenched teeth.
“Just a few more seconds.”
Ditter squeezed through to the peephole and looked into the library. Inside he saw Wehr close an aluminum briefcase and toggle a latch hidden below the tabletop in between two decorative carvings on the side paneling of the desk. The latch rotated, activating a secondary latch that protruded out the right side of the desk. Wehr went to it, reached out, and opened a hidden compartment. He stuffed the briefcase within, shut the hatch, reset the desk’s mechanisms, and looked up as he heard the knock on the door once more. “Enter!”
-------
“What do you mean the elevator is down?” Wehr grunted at the lieutenant.
“Sir, five men took over the elevator and booby-trapped it. We have regained control of the elevator’s mechanical room, but if we move the elevator it will be destroyed,” he said as someone moaned from the corner. The lieutenant couldn’t take his eyes off the man lying on the couch.
“Pay attention! What is our status?”
The young man’s eyes reverted back to Wehr. “Sir, they have us out-gunned. We are losing many men. The loss of the elevator and the recent flood have broken our troop numbers in half. We have won over the basement storage room and castle armory and are bringing over all the ammunition here, sir.”
“What about my pilots?”
“They were all lost in the initial attack, sir.”
“And my son?”
“We lost contact with him when the flood hit.”
“Anything else, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir.” The young soldier chose his words carefully and continued. “We were in the middle of transporting the canisters when they took the elevator. They now have control of them...sir.”
Wehr slammed his fists down onto the desk, making the objects on it jump. He looked down, his eyes darting back and forth, examining every object on the table as if looking for a solution. He looked up. “Helicopters?”
“The helicopters that were outside the hangar look to have been damaged in the attack. The one in the hangar was under repair so we have to assume it is also down. The Storch was operational before the attack, but we have no further updates as to its condition.”
“Do we have contact with the last remaining helicopter in the valley?”
“No, sir. We lost control of the communications room. But we might be able to contact them via the helicopter’s radio in the hangar.”
Wehr stared at the swinging chandelier. “We need to get to the hangar.” He turned to look at the body on the couch. “We are going to need men.”
“Yes, sir!” The lieutenant saluted, spun around, and hurried out.
As he opened the door, an officer wearing a brown leather jacket stacked a crate of ammunition against the wall outside. Wehr locked eyes on the major and called out to him. “Major, turn around.”
The major did as he was told and Wehr’s eyes lit up. “Come closer! Are you a pilot in the Luftwaffe?” It was a rhetorical question. Wehr knew that he was upon seeing the Luftwaffe pilot’s badge on the man’s jacket.
“Yes, sir,” the pilot said as he looked curiously at the man lying on the couch in the far corner of the room.
“What is your name? And what type of aircraft do you fly?” Wehr knew now that his best chance to get out alive was using the major to pilot the Storch.
“My name is Major Otto Von Ludger, sir, and I am currently head test pilot for the Kolibri program,” Otto said as he took a longer look toward the couch.
-------
Behind the library wall Ditter stumbled back in shock at what he had just witnessed. He looked around aimlessly at all the faces in the passage, his mouth open, trying to speak. His hands shook as he reached into his inside chest pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“What is it? Are you all right? What did you hear?” Max asked.
“He is alive...alive after all these years...he is alive.” Ditter pulled out an old, faded picture from the wallet, looked at it, then looked through the peephole once more.
“Who is alive? Ditter, who are you talking about?” Max asked as he grabbed Ditter’s arms.
“It’s...it’s Otto.”
“Ditter, what’s going on?”
Ditter looked into Max’s eyes, then Solange’s. “Otto Von Ludger, my brother.”
-------
Ludger. “Kolibri program?” Wehr asked, now looking at the major with newfound interest.
“Yes, sir. Vertical lift aircraft program, sir. Helicopters.”
Wehr smiled and stepped out from behind his desk. “We need to move…now. Major, I will be in need of your services. Please remain in the room while I find the medics.” Wehr left the library, closing the door behind him.
Otto took in the hundreds of books lining the walls of the circular, two-story room. Then he heard a groan to his left and he focused once more on the tufted red leather couch. Lying on it was a man covered by a gray blanket. The man moved and the blanket slipped to the floor. His arms flailed as he tried to grab it. Otto approached him to see if he could help. The man then turned his head and lazily stared back at Otto. “Wo bin ich?” he mumbled before passing out. Otto leaned in closer, not sure he was looking at what he thought he was looking at.
An eerie silence engulfed him as all the gunfire and explosions in the background faded away. Otto stood silently looking down, his mind swirling with everything that had happened up to this moment, and suddenly it all made sense. He now knew why he was there.
Otto stood there, looking at the man lying unconscious on the leather couch, and didn’t noticed as the column of the fireplace mantel moved aside. Max, Ditter, and Dean came out. Dean crouched on one knee, pointing his grease gun at the library’s door.
“Otto.”
Otto turned, surprised to hear such a familiar voice, and saw an old man. He was about to reach for his gun when he caught a glimpse of the old man’s partner, who swung around and pointed the submachine gun at him and shook his head. The man then sidestepped over to the thick wooden door, locked it, and took one of the chairs in the room, propping it against the door.
“Ditter, hurry it up. We don’t have much time,” Max said.
“American?”
“Yes, American! Now, Ditter!”
“Otto, don’t you recognize me?”
Otto turned his head to see the third man with what looked like a triple barrel shotgun walk to the opposite corner, pointing his weapon at the couch, as the other American soldier watched over him and the door.
“You do look familiar. Where are you from?”
“It is going to be hard to believe, but I’m your brother.”
Otto paused for a moment. “You’re a fool! A crazy old fool! My brother died in the winter of ’44.”
“No, I didn’t. I escaped to Switzerland.”
“Old man, how could you be my brother when I am older than him, or you, even in your crazy world—”
“We ripped our picture before we left our town, remember? Look here, I have it.” Ditter reached out with the ripped picture in hand.
Otto in turn pulled his out and they placed them side by side. The old man’s picture was old and faded, but Otto could still recognize himself. The rips matched perfectly. He looked up. “Brother? What happened to your face? Your hands? Were you in an accident? Did you get burnt?”
“How do I explain…. Remember reading H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine?”
“What?” He shook his head. “What did you just say?”
The door rattled as someone tried to enter.
“Come on…let’s move!” Dean growled back.
“There isn’t much time.”
Otto just blankly stared at his brother, as if lost in a dream.
“Otto, we must go—now!”
Somebody shoved hard on the door, but the lock held.
Otto nodded and touched his brother’s arm. “Is it really you, Ditter?”
“Yes, it is. Now come with me and I’ll explain.”
“Max, let’s go. What the hell?” said Dean. Max was carrying a man on his shoulder. “We can’t take anyone else with us.” Dean spun away from Max and took careful aim at the door when it was hit harder, splintering the wood around the lock. The chair kept it from opening. “Put that body down!”
“Trust me, this guy will come in handy.”
Ditter stared at Max and the body draped across his shoulders.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean grunted.
“The Germans won’t shoot us as long as we have him,” Max said.
Max passed the desk and paused as he saw a folder and a notebook next to the wooden crate. He thought about it for a quick second, then grabbed both items off the table and put them into his coat’s chest pocket as he rushed to the fireplace. First through the mantel opening was Ditter, then Otto. Max swung the body’s feet around to Dean and they both carried it through the hole. Once in, Dean hit the lever up, closing the secret entrance to the fireplace. The column started to move, but not before Wehr burst into the library and watched as the mantel’s column slid into place.
Wehr jumped forward and desperately clawed at the fireplace mantel as it locked shut. He then turned around and yelled at the group of SS men behind him. “I need explosives! Now!”
Dean heard the order through the thick granite wall as he helped Max carry the body away from the library and through the passage. “Max, who the hell is this?” he asked, trying to see the face in the dark tunnel.
“You sure you want to know, Major?”
“Yes, Max, who?”
“Adolf Hitler.”