Game of Shadows (7 page)

Tommy sighed. "Fine. But it's not like I'm just sitting around watching television here. I do work, you know."

"This is more important, Tommy. Thanks for your help."

"You're..."

Sean ended the call before he could hear the word
welcome.
He imagined his friend cursing on the other end, but he didn't care. The idea made Sean grin for a second. Then the man he was following ducked around the corner steps of a bank, disappearing behind the metal façade. Sean glanced both ways and darted across the street in pursuit.

"Now where are you going?" he whispered.

Washington, D.C.

Admiral McClain stood at his second-story window overlooking the Potomac River. He considered all the history that had taken place on that little strip of water as he puffed on a Padrón cigar. One of the first things that came to mind was the famous crossing of George Washington. The painting had become an icon in Revolutionary lore, but from what he understood about the real history of it, things didn't exactly go down that way. Not that it mattered. The fledgling country persevered, and was able to break the bonds that the British had kept them in for so long.

McClain had joined the armed services because he wanted to be a part of the great military history of the United States of America. He hoped to carve out his own little piece that generations would admire.

It hadn't gone according to plan, though.

Some would look at McClain's status and all his achievements in life and think he had it all, that he'd done everything he set out to do. They'd be right. Mostly.

But Corbett McClain wanted more. It wasn't enough that he was one of the chief advisers to the president. He snorted at the thought. Earlier that morning, the president had taken action in spite of McClain's advice. He felt more like a pawn now than ever.

He'd achieved the highest rank for a naval officer, but was still unsatisfied with his standing, as well as his paycheck. He wasn't living in squalor by any stretch of the imagination. His multimillion-dollar home on the river put to rest any notion of the sort. He drove a modest luxury car, smoked the best cigars, drank the best bourbon, and when his wife was out of town, probably engaging in one of her many extramarital affairs, he had a stable of women he paid to keep him company.

Life was good. But it wasn't what he wanted.

McClain took another draw on his cigar and let the bluish smoke seep out between his pursed lips.

It wasn't enough that McClain was one of the right hands to the most powerful man on the planet. He wanted recognition. He wanted to be a hero. And despite his finances, he wanted...no, needed, more money.

The president should have listened about the SEALs. He could send those guys in to do anything, and they would take care of it before the deadline. The missing scientist would be saved, and McClain would be the guy responsible for heading the rescue mission. Well, maybe not heading, but at least ordering it.

His phone rattled on a nearby end table as it vibrated. He stepped over and picked it up. Recognizing the number, he answered shortly, "What?"

"Still waiting on your orders, sir."

"So? Keep waiting. I'll let you know when it's time to move. We don't even know where to move to, yet."

"I understand that, sir. But usually in these situations, it's best not to sit around and wait. You know that."

"I do." He paused and momentarily changed the subject. "Were you able to find any information yet?"

"Not yet, sir. We have a few men on it, but so far they're coming up empty. I'm not sure there's anything out there that will help."

"It's out there," McClain reassured the caller. "You just have to know where to look. You already tried Ott's lab?"

"Yeah, but it was hard to get in there. They've tightened security considerably."

"Getting past tight security is one of the reasons you're a part of this unit. We need to know what she's got. There has to be something that can point us in the right direction."

"I'll take care of it, sir."

"That's more like it. Call me when you have an update on the situation."

"Yes, sir. One more thing you should know about. There's an asset in play."

It wasn't exactly news. The president had so much as already told McClain that there would be an Axis agent on the scene. Still, the wild card presented an opportunity.

"Follow him, and see where he goes, what he's up to. If he finds something helpful, let me know."

"Will do."

McClain ended the call. "What are you up to?" he said to himself in a gruff tone. Knowing Sean Wyatt’s history, he knew the man could get in the way of his plan. But there was no turning back now. Things were in motion, and they couldn't be stopped just because some cowboy was getting in the way.

Hopefully, by the end of the day, he would have some answers — answers that could lead to taking some action.

Lucerne, Switzerland

Sean kept a few hundred feet between himself and the guy in the red shirt. The man had been walking for over ten minutes, winding his way through the streets of the city. The longer he followed him, the more Sean started to think that either the guy was an ordinary criminal, or he was trying to lead Sean astray. The latter became increasingly the more likely.

He checked his six more frequently as the minutes rolled by, making sure no one was on his tail. A few times he thought he recognized the same guy behind him, but when he would look again, the person was gone, never to reappear.

Red shirt took a sharp right and cut down an alleyway between two buildings. If Sean followed, he would definitely be spotted. He had to risk guessing where his mark was headed.

Up ahead, the street ended in a sharp left turn. Straight ahead was the river. To the right was a pedestrian street with cafes and restaurants along the waterfront. He was back to an area he recognized. Red shirt's direction would take him out in the middle of the waterfront area. Sean sped up to a jog, weaving around the citizens and tourists as he increased his pace. He needed to get to the other side of the row of buildings before his quarry disappeared.

It was another thirty seconds before Sean reached the intersection and the entrance to the pedestrian street. When he got there, though, he let out a deep sigh. Hundreds of people milled about the area. A few Asian visitors were getting their picture taken near the entrance to the wooden footbridge. A hodgepodge of other people stood outside the cafes, sat at tables, drinking wine and beer or eating their lunches while others just seemed to be walking aimlessly around as they enjoyed the sights.

He'd lost the man in the red shirt.

Sean started making his way through the glut of people, edging his way past shoulders, fanny packs, and backpacks. Up ahead, he saw hair that looked exactly like the guy he was chasing. Sean picked up the pace again and attempted to hurry through the throng.

He nearly caught up with the man, getting as close as thirty feet away. But the mark turned and started walking in the other direction. When he did, Sean noticed the guy had on a green shirt. He'd spotted the wrong guy.

Sean spun around on his heels, searching the crowd for the apartment intruder, but he was nowhere to be found. "Good job, Sean. Lost a lead," he cursed himself.

He took a long, slow breath. "Where did you go?"

After a minute of looking around without success, he stepped out of the flow of traffic and stood next to one of the decorative black fences that surrounded an Italian restaurant. He glanced at the menu. The description of the different dishes sounded delicious, and he was starting to get hungry. As he tried to decide what to do, his stomach grumbled, giving him the sign he was looking for.

At the very least, he figured he could sit outside and wait to see if red shirt happened to come by again. If the man doubled back, Sean would be there ready for him.

He stepped over to the hostess stand where a short, young woman with straight brown hair down to her shoulders awaited in a black button-up shirt and matching pants.

"A table for one, please," he said in nearly perfect German. "Outside if possible." He passed her a warm grin.

She smiled at him and grabbed a menu from one of the pulpit's shelves. "Right this way."

Sean sat with his back to the restaurant so he could face the water and keep an eye on the faces that walked by. He decided to get spaghetti with meatballs and a salad. The lasagna looked amazing, but eating something heavy like that when he was on a mission was something Sean rarely did. He liked to keep light so he could stay on his toes.

The server brought him a glass of water with no ice, and he drank it quickly, not realizing how thirsty he'd got from his activities thus far.

Sean studied the people as they passed by. After ten minutes, his plate of food arrived with the salad on the side. He thanked the server and dug into the pasta, devouring it in only a few minutes. The robust, red spaghetti sauce had a sharp garlic flavor to it, along with potent Italian herbs. The meatballs were hearty, seasoned with onions, garlic, and pepper. He made quick work of the salad as well, and gnawed on a few pieces of bread that came with the meal.

Another twenty minutes went by without ever seeing the man in the red shirt again. Sean was mad at himself for losing the guy, but being angry wouldn't help anything.

He remembered the book he'd put in his rucksack and took it out, careful not to let anyone see the swastika on the front. His fingers flipped through the pages again, and he read some of the notes that the older Ott had made:

If the Führer were to succeed with these experiments, it could alter the course of history and the future.

Sean wondered what the device was capable of doing. He recalled what he'd been told so far, and what the book said. Things were still fairly vague. He needed answers, and fast. Time was running out for Dr. Ott.

He took his phone out of his pocket to see if anyone had called. It was a little surprising that there'd been no word from Tommy, even though it had only been about thirty minutes since he'd talked to his friend. Tommy worked fast, and his two assistants were always ready for a little sleuthing.

Might as well do some research himself while he was waiting. There wasn't anything else to do.

He tapped on the app for his favorite search engine and typed in the words
die glocke.
After a few seconds, several links appeared on the first page. One featured a video. Others were links to websites containing information on the subject. His eyebrows furrowed as he frowned and clicked on one of the blue links. "How is it that so many people know what this thing is, and I've never heard of it?" he wondered aloud.

The website appeared on his screen, and he started reading about the odd device the Nazis had tried to develop. Most of what he was seeing was conjecture. Some people believed that die Glocke was some kind of a UFO that Hitler had created in order to spread his would-be Aryan nation throughout the cosmos. Other theories stated that the device was designed as a means of time travel. One of the more interesting ideas Sean noted was the notion that die Glocke could manipulate space-time, creating a wormhole around itself and essentially disappearing from the current dimension.

According to the website, the tests for the device happened at a place called Der Riese near the Wenceslas mine in Poland, fairly close to the Czech border. The story suggested that the Third Reich murdered many of the scientists working on the project when things began to go south for the Germans. Apparently, they didn't want anyone sharing their research or any findings with the enemy.

In the text, Sean noticed mention of something called, "
The Henge,"
which was described as a circle of concrete columns that may have been used to anchor the device. He held the book down and flipped to the page where he remembered seeing something similar to that description. Sure enough, the more Sean looked at it, the more the circle looked like a kind of Stonehenge.
But why
?

He did a quick search for the location of the Wenceslaus mine and set a waypoint on his phone's map. After putting the book back in his rucksack, he got up from the table and started walking back to the car he'd left in front of Ott's apartment building.

It took nearly fifteen minutes for him to get back to the sedan. He hadn't realized how far the guy in the red shirt had taken him through the city when he was in pursuit.

Sean opened the vehicle and set the rucksack in the back seat. He slid into the driver's seat and adjusted the settings before firing up the engine. Sean wasn't a car guy. He loved motorcycles and had a small museum's worth of them back in Atlanta. Often people asked him if he just collected bikes or if he actually rode them. He found the question to be annoying, but always responded by telling people the only reason to own a motorcycle is to ride it. He didn't have them on display for the public or anything like that. They were kept in a safe place, in his massive garage below the house.

But even a motorcycle guy could appreciate the sound of the BMW's motor as it revved to life. It brought a subtle grin to his face as he gripped the wheel and shifted into drive.

He was stopped before he could take off. The familiar vibration of his phone going off in his pocket caused him to shift the car back into park, killing the momentary thrill of anticipation.

"What have you got, Tommy?"

"I'm doing fine, thanks. Weather here in Atlanta is awesome right now."

Sean shook his head and briefly considered hanging up on his friend, except that he loved the smart aleck response. "Great. Good to know. Tell me something."

"We're still researching the submarine thing. That might take a while, but there are some promising angles the kids are looking into. As far as die Glocke is concerned, you could have done an Internet search to find out some interesting things about that. "

Sean snorted but tried not to be demeaning. "Already did that, buddy. I'm headed to Poland right now to see what I can find."

"Oh, good. So you were just going to drive out to Poland to see what you could find? It's not that small of a country, you know." Tommy was laying on the cynicism pretty thick. It was a staple in their friendship.

"No, smart guy. I have a general location. The area near the Czech border where there's a mine. I figured I'd check it out."

"That's not bad. But I can go you one better."

"Impress me."

"I've got a name for you. Michel Steiner."

Sean waited for his friend to continue, but Tommy was apparently going to make him ask. "Okay, who is that?"

"Glad you asked," Tommy said dryly. "He is the son of one of the soldiers that worked on the project with Dr. Ott's grandfather. He runs a nonprofit organization that his father founded. It has something to do with helping people find jobs, like a temp agency. If anyone knows something about what they were working on and what might have happened to die Glocke, it would be him. He's the only direct link to the project we can find, aside from Dr. Ott of course."

A few seconds passed in silence. Sean considered what his friend had just told him. "Well, I am definitely impressed," he said finally. "Not sure how you were able to get that little nugget so quickly, but something tells me you didn't do it on your own."

"That would be a correct assumption. Alex and Tara were all over it. It turns out that Steiner has come out with several books on the subject of die Glocke, so finding him wasn't all that difficult." There was a hint of hesitation before Tommy continued. "I do have to warn you, though. From what we were able to find, this guy sounds a little...how should I say...eccentric?"

There was the rub Sean had been waiting for. "Great. So you're sending me to talk to some nut job conspiracy theorist?"

"Now hold on. It's not entirely like that. He does have some credibility, and there's no denying he's the son of someone that worked on that project."

"No denying?"

"Well, I mean it's possible that he's completely full of it, but he's the only lead we have. And not many people would come out of the woodwork and admit that their father had been part of the SS. Although his father
was
a defector. He ran away from the army because he didn't believe in the Third Reich's mission. Again, that's what Michel has told people. He's probably got some documents or something to corroborate that part of the story." 

Sean's heart sank. Tommy had got his hopes up that this case just got easier, but now it was back down to earth. "Let me get this straight. You're basing your information on what this guy claims and nothing else?"

"More or less," Tommy said then quickly pressed on. "But even if he's some crackpot, he might have more information on the subject than anyone else simply due to proximity and from what he's studied."

Finally, a valid point.

"Okay," Sean said reluctantly. "What's his address?"

"I'm texting it to you right now. Definitely give this guy a chance, at least. He might be able to help, and he seems like a nice person. Anyone who donates their time to a charitable operation can't be all bad."

It didn't mean he'd be helpful either, but it was all they had to go on. "All right, Tommy. Thanks. I'm headed that way now. I'll be in touch if I need anything else. And let me know if you find out something on that sub."

"Will do."

Sean hung up the phone and steered the car out into the traffic. His mind wandered, riddled with doubts and concern.
Wild goose chase. Going to meet a crazy person in Poland. Almost fell to my death earlier. Coming back was definitely the right decision.