Black Order (22 page)

“I think I know
too
much about Anna and her crew as it is.”

“No. I meant discovering who was behind the bombing here. The saboteur…and whoever employed him. Something larger is going on here. Those first few acts of sabotage—messing with the safety controls of the Bell, the first illnesses—they were meant to draw us. Raise some smoke. Lure us here with the rumors of strange illnesses.”

“But why would they do that?”

“To make sure Anna’s group was discovered and shut down. Don’t you find it strange that the Bell, the heart of the technology, was only destroyed after we arrived here? What might that suggest?”

“While they wanted Anna’s project shut down, they also didn’t want the heart of the technology falling into anyone else’s hands.”

Painter nodded. “And maybe something even more dire. All this might be misdirection. A bit of sleight of hand. Look over here, while the real trick is pulled off out of sight. But who is the mysterious magician in the wings? What is his purpose, his intent? That’s what we must find out.”

“And the electronic equipment you requisitioned from Anna?”

“Perhaps a way to help us sniff out the mole here. If we can trap this saboteur, we might have some of our answers, find out who is really pulling all the strings out here.”

A knock on the door startled them both.

Painter stood up as the bar was removed and the door swung open.

Anna strode in with Gunther at her side. The guard had cleaned up since the last time Painter had seen him. It was a sign of the man’s menace that no other guards followed them inside. He did not even have a gun.

“I thought you might like to join us for breakfast,” Anna said. “By the time we’re finished, the equipment you requested should be here.”

“All of it? How? From where?”

“Kathmandu. We have a sheltered helipad on the other side of the mountain.”

“Really? And you’ve never been discovered?”

Anna shrugged. “It’s simply a matter of folding our flights in with the dozens of daily sightseeing tours and mountaineering teams. The pilot should be back within the hour.”

Painter nodded. He planned on putting that hour to the best of uses.

Gathering intel.

Every problem had its solution. At least he hoped so.

They set out from their room. The hallways beyond were unusually crowded. Word had spread. Everyone seemed busy or angry or casting hard glances at them…as if Painter and Lisa were somehow to blame for the sabotage here. But no one approached too closely. Gunther’s heavy tread cleared a path. Their captor had become their protector.

They finally reached Anna’s study.

A long table had been set up before the fire, heaping platters upon it. Sausages, dark breads, steaming stews, porridges, aged cheeses, an assortment of blackberries, plums, and melons.

“Is there an army coming to join us?” Painter asked.

“Constant fuel is most important in cold climates, both for the home and the heart,” Anna said, ever the good German.

They took their seats. Food was passed. Just one big happy family.

“If there’s any hope for a cure,” Lisa said, “we’ll have to know more about this Bell of yours. Its history…how it works…”

Anna, sullen after the walk, brightened. What researcher didn’t enjoy discussing their discoveries?

“It started out as an experiment as an energy generator,” she began. “A new engine. The Bell got its name from its bell-shaped outer containment jar, a ceramic vessel the size of a hundred-gallon drum, lined by lead. Inside were two metal cylinders, one inside the other, that would be spun in opposite directions.”

Anna pantomimed with her hands.

“Lubricating it all and filling the Bell was a mercurylike liquid metal. What was called Xerum 525.”

Painter recalled the name. “That’s the substance you said you couldn’t duplicate.”

Anna nodded. “We’ve tried for decades, trying to reverse engineer the liquid metal. Aspects of its composition defy testing. We know it contains thorium and beryllium peroxides, but that’s about it. All we know for sure is that Xerum 525 was a by-product of Nazi research into zero point energy. It was produced at another lab, one destroyed just after the war.”

“And you’ve not found a way to manufacture more?” Painter asked.

Anna shook her head.

“But what did the Bell actually do?” Lisa asked.

“As I said before, it was purely an experiment. Most likely another attempt to tap into the infinite power of zero point. Though once the Nazi researchers turned it on, strange effects were noted. The Bell emitted a pale glow. Electrical equipment in a huge radius short-circuited. Deaths were reported. During a series of follow-up experiments, they refined the device and built shielding. Experiments were done deep within an abandoned mine. No further deaths occurred, but villagers a kilometer away from the mine reported insomnia, vertigo, and muscle spasms. Something was being radiated by the Bell. Interest grew.”

“As a potential weapon?” Painter guessed.

“I can’t say. Many of the records were destroyed by the head researcher. But we do know the original team exposed all sorts of biologics to the Bell: ferns, molds, eggs, meat, milk. And an entire spectrum of animal life. Invertebrates and vertebrates. Cockroaches, snails, chameleons, toads, and of course mice and rats.”

“And what about the top of the food chain?” Painter asked. “Humans.”

Anna nodded. “I’m afraid so. Morality is often the first casualty to progress.”

“So what happened during these experiments?” Lisa asked. She had lost all interest in her plate of food. Not in distaste for the subject matter but wide-eyed interest.

Anna seemed to sense a commonality here and turned her attention to Lisa. “Again the effects were inexplicable. The chlorophyll in plants disappeared, turning the plants white. Within hours they would decompose into a greasy sludge. In animals, blood would gel in veins. A crystalline substance would form within tissues, destroying cells from the inside out.”

“Let me guess,” Painter said. “Only the cockroaches were unaffected.”

Lisa frowned at him, then returned to Anna. “Do you have any idea what caused those effects?”

“We can only conjecture. Even now. We believe the Bell, as it spins, creates a strong electromagnetic vortex. The presence of Xerum 525, a byproduct of earlier zero point research, when exposed to this vortex, generates an aura of strange quantum energies.”

Painter put it together in his head. “So the Xerum 525 is the
fuel
source, and the Bell is the
engine
.”

Anna nodded.

“Turning the Bell into a Mixmaster,” a new voice grumbled.

All eyes turned to Gunther. He had a mouthful of sausage. It was the first time he had shown any interest in the conversation.

“A crude but accurate description,” Anna concurred. “Imagine the nature of zero point as a bowl of cake batter. The spinning Bell is like a beater that dips into it and sucks quantum energy outward, into our existence, splattering with all manner of strange subatomic particles. The earliest experiments were attempts to manipulate the speed of this mixer and so control the splatter.”

“To make less of a mess.”

“And along with it, to lessen the degenerative side effects. And they succeeded. Adverse effects waned, and something remarkable took their place.”

Painter knew they were coming to the heart of the matter.

Anna leaned forward. “Rather than
degeneration
of biologic tissues, the Nazi scientists began noting
enhancements
. Accelerated growth in molds. Gigantism in ferns. Faster reflexes in mice, and higher intelligence in rats. The consistency of the results could not be attributed to random mutations alone. And it appeared that the higher the order of animal, the more benefit was derived from exposure.”

“So human test subjects went next,” Painter said.

“Keep a historical perspective, Mr. Crowe. The Nazis were convinced that they would give rise to the next superrace. And here was a tool to do it in a generation. Morality held no benefit. There was a larger imperative.”

“To create a master race. To rule the world.”

“So the Nazis believed. To that end, they invested much effort in advancing research into the Bell. But before it could be completed, they ran out of time. Germany fell. The Bell was evacuated so the research could be continued in secret. It was the last great hope for the Third Reich. A chance for the Aryan race to be born anew. To arise and rule the world.”

“And Himmler chose this place,” Painter said. “Deep in the Himalayas. What madness.” He shook his head.

“Oftentimes, it is
madness
more than
genius
that moves the world forward. Who else but the mad would reach so far, stretching for the impossible? And in so doing, prove the impossible possible.”

“And sometimes it merely invents the most efficient means of genocide.”

Anna sighed.

Lisa brought the discussion back in line. “What became of the human studies?” She kept her tone clinical.

Anna recognized a more collegial dining partner. “In adults, the effects were still detrimental. Especially at higher settings. But the research did not stop there. When a
fetus
was exposed in utero, one in six children born of such exposure showed remarkable improvements. Alterations in the gene for myostatin produced children with more well-developed muscles. Other enhancements arose, too. Keener eyesight, improved hand-eye coordination, and amazing IQ scores.”

“Superchildren,” Painter said.

“But sadly such children seldom lived past the age of two,” Anna said. “Eventually they would begin to degenerate, going pale. Crystals formed in tissues. Fingers and toes necrosed and fell away.”

“Interesting,” Lisa said. “Sounds like the same side effects as the first series of tests.”

Painter glanced at her. Did she just say
interesting
? Lisa’s gaze was fixed on Anna with fascination. How could she remain so clinical? Then he noted Lisa’s left knee bobbing up and down under the table. He touched her knee and calmed it. She trembled under his touch. Outwardly, her face continued to remain passive. Painter realized all of Lisa’s
interest
was feigned. She was bottling up her anger and horror, allowing him to play good cop, bad cop. Her cooperative attitude allowed him to pepper their interrogation with a few harder questions, all the better to gain the answers he needed.

Painter squeezed her knee, acknowledging her effort.

Lisa continued her act. “You mentioned one out of six babies showed these short-lived improvements. What about the other five?”

Anna nodded. “Stillborn. Fatal mutations. Deaths of the mothers. Mortality was high.”

“And who were all these mothers?” Painter asked, voicing the outrage for both of them. “Not volunteers, I’m assuming.”

“Don’t judge too harshly, Mr. Crowe. Do you know the level of infant mortality in your own country? It is worse than some third world countries. What benefit do those deaths gain?”

Oh, dear God, she can’t be serious. It was a ludicrous comparison.

“The Nazis had their imperative,” Anna said. “They were at least consistent.”

Painter sought some words to blast her, but anger trapped his tongue.

Lisa spoke up instead. Her hand found his atop her knee and clutched tightly. “I’m assuming that these scientists sought some ways to further fine-tune the Bell, to eradicate these side effects.”

“Of course. But by the end of the war, not much more progress was made. There is only one anecdotal report of a full success. A supposedly perfect child. Prior to this, all the children born under the Bell bore slight imperfections. Patches of pigment loss, organ asymmetry, different colored eyes.” Anna glanced to Gunther, then back again. “But this child appeared unblemished. Even crude genetic analysis of the boy’s genome tested flawless. But the technique employed to achieve this result remained unknown. The head researcher performed this last experiment in secret. When my grandfather came to evacuate the Bell, the head researcher objected and destroyed all of his personal lab notes. The child died shortly thereafter.”

“From side effects?”

“No, the head researcher’s daughter drowned herself and the baby.”

“Why?”

Anna shook her head. “My grandfather refused to talk about it. As I said, the story was anecdotal.”

“What was this researcher’s name?” Painter asked.

“I don’t recall. I can look it up, if you’d like.”

Painter shrugged. If only he had access to Sigma’s computers. He sensed there was more to her grandfather’s story.

“And after the evacuation?” Lisa asked. “The research continued here?”

“Yes. Though isolated, we continued to keep a finger on the scientific community at large. After the war, Nazi scientists had spread to the winds, many into deep black projects around the world. Europe. Soviet Union. South America. The United States. They were our ears and eyes abroad, filtering data to us. Some still believed in the cause. Others were blackmailed with their pasts.”

“So you kept current.”

A nod. “Over the next two decades, great leaps were made. Superchildren were born who lived longer. They were raised like princes here. Given the title
Ritter des Sonnekönig
. Knights of the Sun King. To note their births from the Black Sun project.”

“How very Wagnerian,” Painter scoffed.

“Perhaps. My grandfather liked tradition. But I’ll have you know all experimental subjects here at
Granitschloß
were volunteers.”

“But was this a moral choice? Or was it because you didn’t have any Jews handy in the Himalayas?”

Anna frowned, not even dignifying his remark with a comment. She continued, “While the progress was solid, decrepitude continued to plague the
Sonnekönige
. The onset of symptoms still generally occurred at about two years, but the symptoms were milder. What was an acute degeneration became a chronic one. And with the increased longevity, a new symptom arose: mental deterioration. Acute paranoia, schizophrenia, psychosis.”