Game of Shadows (9 page)

The gravity of the situation wasn't lost on Steiner. Still, something was keeping him from being completely honest with Sean. When he spoke, it was with grave seriousness. "What I tell you now, you must never tell another person. It was a secret between my father and me. My mother might have known about it, but I doubt that. When it came to his time with the Nazis, my father was extremely secretive. He only told me about it because he felt like the information should be exposed someday. I put most of what I know in my books. They sold some copies and made a little extra money to keep this place going." He motioned to the aged office around them. "People do love a good mystery, especially when it comes to Nazis. But there were some details I left out. On purpose, of course."

"What details?" Sean tilted his body forward as if about to hear a huge secret.

"I'll let you see for yourself."

M
ił
ków
, Poland

Steiner stood up and motioned for Sean to follow. He led the way through a narrow, wood-paneled hallway to a smaller office in the back. A few stacks of paperwork sat atop a desk that was the twin of the one in the front. A few black-and-white pictures of a man and woman hung from the walls. Other than that, the room was sparsely decorated.

A picture of the man in the other images dangled from the wall directly behind the desk, the only thing that adorned the fake wood paneling in that section of the office. Steiner maneuvered behind the desk and grasped the picture frame on both sides. He lifted it carefully, unhooking the wire in the back from the nail on the wall and set the picture on the floor, leaning it against a gray filing cabinet. In the space where the picture had been was the front of a small black safe with a combination lock. It rested in a hole cut into the wall, a modification done either by the tenant or on request by the builder.

Sean raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what the older man could possibly be trying to hide.

His host spun the combination dial back and forth, doing it more slowly as he neared the final number. Sean averted his gaze to respect the man's privacy. The last thing he wanted to do was give the impression that he was some kind of thief. When Steiner finally stopped twisting the knob, the locking mechanism clicked, and he pulled down on the small metal latch. The safe door swung open, revealing a small stack of envelopes, a wad of cash wrapped in a rubber band, and a leather notebook that looked eerily similar to the one Sean had retrieved from Dr. Ott's apartment.

Steiner pushed the pile of money and envelopes to the back of the safe and retrieved the notebook. He turned around and sat at the desk, motioning Sean to take a seat in the lone chair on the other side. Sean did as requested, and pulled the chair close so he could see what the man was about to show him.

"My father left this to me when he died. He warned that there were things inside it that could be potentially dangerous, and that I should keep it safe."

Sean didn't think that keeping something so valuable in a cheaply made safe and in a fairly obvious hiding spot was exactly what the man's father meant, but he didn't want to offend his host.

Steiner went on. "I never really thought much about some of the details in this book. I used some of the information to entertain a few readers with wild conspiracy theories, but I didn't expect many people to believe them, even though I think there is a great deal of credibility to the things I gleaned from this journal.

"Father's original plan was to deliver this to the Allies, but in his fear of being persecuted for war crimes, he decided to lay low instead and keep the book hidden."

"Not a bad move on his part. The Allies went a little crazy when it came to hunting down old Nazis."

"Indeed." A twinge of regret filled his face. "No matter what amends they might have made." The moment passed, and Steiner got back to business. He turned the pages of the book to a page that featured a similar drawing to the one in Dr. Ott's book. He spun the journal around to give Sean a better view. He tapped the page. "See, almost the same image."

It was almost a photocopy match. There was no mistaking the bell's unique shape, its attachments, the doorframe on one side, and the way it was hovering in the air amid the circle of columns.

Steiner flipped a few more pages and pointed to the first paragraph of the handwritten notes. Unlike the book Sean had in his possession, this one lacked the high mathematical equations. "Can you read this?" he asked.

The script was written in German, which wasn't an issue, but the handwriting was fluid, almost like cursive, so it made understanding it a little more difficult. Still, Sean could manage.

He nodded and started reading through the passage. The translation to English happened automatically in his head.

Herr Ott told me that they are close to a breakthrough with the bell. If this happens, innocent people all over the world could be in grave danger. Herr Ott has done his best to sabotage progress, but now, it seems, they will achieve success. The only thing that seems to be on our side is time. The Allies push closer to the capital every day, which is why the high command has decided to relocate the bell, along with several of their officers, to somewhere in South America. According to the orders I saw, the voyage will be made on
U-boat 1500
. I was not aware that the German army had created that many submarines, but it appears some things have been kept secret from both the public, and those who would serve Hitler. The colonel in charge of the evacuation mission is Gilbert Shpurning. He is a hard man and pays close attention to detail. Any mission to try to steal the bell from their possession would be suicide. I was not chosen for escort detail.

I overheard another soldier say that we would be executing the scientists before the train leaves with the bell. While some of the researchers are just as evil as the Nazis themselves, Herr Ott has proven to be a good man and wants nothing to do with their plot. I am going to attempt to smuggle him out of the facility tonight. He can take safe harbor with family he has in Switzerland, should he be able to make the rest of the journey. It will be difficult for him, but all I can do is get him out of here alive.

I write all of this should anyone ever decide to expose the Nazis' evil schemes that took place here in Poland.

Unfortunately, should they learn about this journal, I would be executed. Because of that, I will take the secret of the bell's destination to my grave. Its dark science is not fit for this time, but perhaps someday, humanity will be ready for it.

Sean stopped reading and lifted his eyes. He turned the page but found nothing. "He said the name of the colonel in charge of the mission to transport the bell."

"Correct," Steiner said. The old man already knew the dots Sean was connecting. "He also mentioned a submarine called
U-1500
, but there is no record of that vessel anywhere in the archives. It did not exist, at least on paper."

"So you looked for it?"

Steiner sighed and glanced sideways down at the table for a split second, then returned his gaze to his guest. "I spent quite a bit of time searching for anything that had to do with the
U-1500
, years even. There was not a trace of it. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that the ship did not exist. If it did, the Nazis covered their tracks well. Obviously, they would not have gone to such trouble for something unimportant."

Sean thought about the passage for a minute and reexamined some of the sentences.

"It says that he took the bell's location to his grave." Sean peered up from the notebook. "I don't suppose your father let you know where that might be." Sean was hesitant to bring it up, but he had to know.

The host shook his head. "Sadly, no. Father believed that the world was not ready for that technology, and that if someone were to find the bell, its power could do immense damage. He died knowing where it was sent, but telling no one. If that submarine made it across the Atlantic Ocean, whoever was aboard it kept quiet, and the secret remains after all these years."

Another dead end, it seemed. "I don't suppose you know where Shpurning lived?"

"No. I wish I did. Though I don't know if that information would be helpful. The colonel may not have made the voyage. I searched for a few years, trying to find the name of the U-boat captain, but could discover nothing. The records on Shpurning are thin at best."

Sean took the conversation in a different direction. "I don't mean to be rude, and if I am overstepping my bounds, I apologize."

This made Steiner laugh. "Americans. So apologetic for everything. Go on, ask your question."

Sean blushed a little but went ahead. "Your father. Is the cemetery where he's buried close to here?"

Steiner didn't seem to be irritated by the query, but his face did change somewhat, to a more puzzled expression. "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that..." Sean struggled to find a polite way to say it. "I'd like to take a look at his grave if that's okay with you. I won't disturb it or anything. I'm just curious to see if there's anything worth noting."

"I see. You think father may have left a clue at his burial site." Steiner leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head as he contemplated the notion. "Herr Wyatt, I have been to my father's grave hundreds of times since he died. I can tell you that I have never noticed anything peculiar, or anything that would make me think he left a clue to the whereabouts of the bell."

That tidbit was discouraging, but Sean wouldn't be brushed aside that easily. "Even so, if you don't mind, I would like to take a look for myself. I just want to make sure I leave no stone unturned. After all, a woman's life depends upon it."

Steiner contemplated the request for another twenty seconds. He shrugged as he spoke. "It's a public cemetery, Herr Wyatt. Anyone can go have a look."

"Will you take me there? I know you probably just opened the office, but it would be most helpful." Sean's eyes begged. He could probably find the cemetery with a set of simple directions, but then he would have to scour the graveyard in search of the one monument he needed.

Steiner laughed. "You can see we aren't very busy. We only get a few people in here every week. Ever since the mine closed and some of the other factories went out of business, there hasn't been much work in this village, unless you plan on working at one of the nearby farms." He stood up and removed a jacket from the back of the chair he'd been sitting in. "The cemetery isn't far from here. I can take a few minutes to show you."

Sean followed his host back out onto the sidewalk. The older man locked the door and dropped the keys into his pocket then started down the walkway. When they reached an intersection at the next block, the two crossed the street and continued in the same direction.

"The cemetery," Steiner pointed, "is right around that corner over there. It will come into view when we pass the stop sign." He apparently wanted to make small talk because he asked Sean how he'd come into the role he was working.

"It's a long story," he gave the cliché answer.

"Good ones usually are," Steiner quipped and flashed a clever grin.

Sean appreciated the wit. "I worked for the U.S. government for several years. I saw a lot of action in the field. More than I wanted. I needed a change, so I retired and went to work for my friend in the field of archaeology. My job was to secure priceless artifacts for transportation and get them to their destination safely."

"Oh?" Steiner raised his eyebrows and looked over at Sean. "That doesn't sound like a less stressful job to me."

"It wasn't. I found myself being shot at and chased, just like when I worked for the government. But there was a funny thing." He paused as they arrived at the next crosswalk, looked both ways, and then kept walking. "I spent so much time thinking about what my life would look like if I could just get away from those jobs and relax. You know?"

"Mmmhmm," Steiner said.

"I just wanted to run a shop on the beach and have a cabin in the woods. Maybe play some golf every now and then."

"You play golf?" The older man seemed a tad surprised.

"Not well," Sean admitted, half joking. His guide laughed, and he continued. "But no matter how much I tried to get away from that high-stress, dangerous lifestyle, it always seemed to find me."

Steiner stopped walking and seemed pensive for a moment before he turned and spoke. When he did, his tone was serious, but not stern, more matter-of-fact than anything. "We cannot run from our true selves, Herr Wyatt. Deep down inside, the person within us knows what it wants to be. It struggles to free itself of the lies we tell it. For some people, they tell themselves that they need to go to college and get a job in an office somewhere, when really what they want to do is start a business or travel, or become a missionary. No matter how much we lie to that person inside us, they will always find a way to get out. That, or they will make us miserable for our entire life until we set them free."

Steiner stared at Sean for a few seconds and then resumed walking. Sean thought about his words for a moment before catching up.

"I've never really heard it put that way, but I agree. I don't know if that little person inside of me really wants to do what I'm doing right now, but I do know that I feel like the world needs me to, and that's why I'm doing it."

The older man's face beamed. "The person inside knows that."

They reached the next corner, and Steiner pointed across the street. "There's the cemetery. My father's grave is in the middle. I'll show you where, and then I must return to the office."

There was something unsettled in Steiner's voice. The man pushed ahead, turning through the iron archway that rose up from stone pillars on either side. Sean couldn't read the Polish name of the cemetery that was displayed in wrought iron letters on the arch. 

The graveyard was decorated with various trees: hemlocks, pines, and a few oaks here and there. Fresh flowers amid boxwoods and nandinas cast a sweet scent into the air. Sean always detested the smell of funerary flowers. It was one of the strongest smells his memory could recall. Normally, people would appreciate the wonderful scent of fresh flowers, but when it came to flowers in a cemetery or at a funeral home, they always nauseated Sean. He'd been to so many funerals growing up, the experiences made a permanent indent on his mind.