The Last Passenger (13 page)

XXI

An explosion of shouting filled the complete silence that had swallowed the room in the wake of Cherenkov’s declaration. All at once, everyone was trying to say something or ask a question. The normally reserved scientists were suddenly acting like a hive of killer bees had been put in their trousers.

Feldman raised his hands and tried to bring order to the commotion. Everyone began to settle down, but the mood in the room couldn’t be contained. A current of pent-up energy buzzed throughout the group like a live wire. Everyone wanted to say something, and even the typically skeptical Carter looked excited. Each and every one of them saw scientific implications in the project that were beyond Kate’s understanding. Nevertheless, she was able to pick up on one thing for certain: the information was credible, and they thought Cherenkov might be onto something.

“We have only four days until we reach the Singularity, and we have no idea what might happen when we do. During that time, all of you will be able to study these documents,” Feldman said.

Senka began to walk around the room, placing a thick red dossier in front of each of the participants, with the exception of Kate.

“The evidence points to the fact that in every incident there have been climatological, electromagnetic, and other types of anomalies,” noted Feldman. “You will work in your assigned field and coordinate your efforts with Professor Cherenkov. He will be the lead on the scientific assessments. Miss Simovic will head up all organizational duties and will make any materials or equipment you might need available in the course of your investigations. Finally, everyone will ultimately answer to me.”

“We should have been told this beforehand,” Paxton said, shaking feverishly. “In my lab I have journals and studies that could have been helpful.”

“Do not worry about that,” replied Feldman. “It’s all been taken care of.”

Feldman turned to Senka, who switched on a bizarre-looking computer hard drive. It was a silver rectangular box the size of a briefcase and was connected to a keyboard and monitor.

“This computer is directly connected to Sonora, the data center located in Usher Manor. There are twenty people working there twenty-four hours a day. They are capable of gathering any information you might need. All of you will have access to a terminal for as long as you need in the Gneisenau Room, where we met this morning. Senka, if you don’t mind.”

Senka pushed a series of keys, and the screen lit up with a string of numbers. Then, the screen blinked and a beautiful young woman flashed on-screen. She was twenty-something with brown hair down to her shoulders, dark eyes, and a contemplative expression on her face. She was in an office crowded with computers and screens. Behind her, people were bustling about, carrying papers, books, and boxes.

“Good evening, Anne,” Feldman said. “I’d like to introduce everyone to Anne Medine, coordinator of the Documentation Division at Usher Manor. Any information you need can be requested from Anne. Any experiment you would like to perform that cannot be performed aboard the ship can be entrusted to her. Anne and her team will be our eyes and ears on the ground.”

“Good evening to all of you,” answered Anne. Her voice came in clear and without any delay despite the fact they were thousands of miles apart. She was slightly taken aback at being in front of so many people even though it was from such a distance. Obviously, she was not used to public speaking.

Anne started to explain the procedures for requesting experiments and analyses that could be sent through their own satellite network. Kate almost choked when she heard “own satellite network.” It explained the plethora of antennas that occupied the flower beds at Usher Manor. Kate suspected that Feldman was stretching his pocketbook to the limit with this project. Perhaps even enough for the Treasury Department to flag his account.

Discreetly, Feldman got up from the table. He seemed somewhat fatigued after the presentation, but Kate was not about to let him leave. He walked away, supported by Senka, revealing just how exhausted he was. A pair of dark rings framed his hawkish eyes, which looked duller than before. It occurred to Kate that Feldman was paying a higher price than anyone else by making this voyage on the
Valkyrie
.

But she could not let him go without some answers. She got up from the table and ran after him as he and Senka were exiting the dance hall through a door leading out to the deck.

“Feldman,” she shouted. A strong wind kicked up, and a layer of clouds lined the sky, obscuring the stars from sight.

Feldman turned around and looked at her with tired eyes, though something in them twinkled. Regret, perhaps? Senka stepped between them, but Feldman brushed her aside.

“Kate Kilroy,” he said her name slowly as if he was relishing it. “The woman who always knows the right questions to ask. I suppose there’s something you’d like to know?”

“Just the truth, Feldman,” answered Kate. “Tell me what really happened to the support ship. And at Carroll’s house. I know that was no accident.”

Feldman leaned against the railing and sighed. He motioned her over. Senka watched them warily, but Feldman signaled her to leave the two of them alone. Reluctantly, she walked away, but not without casting a dubious look at them.

Kate sat down on a wicker chair and waited for Feldman to do the same. He took a small tin from his pocket and offered up a cigarette, which she declined. Feldman shrugged and fought against the wind to light his. When he finally managed to do so, he took a few drags while he arranged his thoughts.

“I’m not the only one who’s been looking for the
Valkyrie
,” he began. “I didn’t know its location until a few years ago when I discovered the Royal Navy’s warehouse, where the majority of the ship’s furniture was stored. When I made my bid, I found out there was a company offering a huge sum for the whole lot. I assumed they were antique collectors or something along those lines. But when the bid surpassed market price, I realized they were looking for something more. Maybe the same thing I was.” He took a long drag and looked out at the dark ocean. “The company was a partnership with headquarters in the Cayman Islands. I had them investigated, and the trail led us to three or four more companies, all of them located in fiscal havens. Whoever they were, they had a lot of money and were dead set against anyone finding out their true identity.”

“But you managed,” guessed Kate.

Feldman nodded. “It wasn’t easy. It required a considerable effort and a great deal of money, but it paid off. The trail ended at a Swiss firm with a German name: Wolf und Klee. Does that ring any bells?”

“I heard the name in Liverpool,” she answered. “Collins said they had vied to make off with the
Valkyrie
. Who are they?”

“Wolf. Und. Klee.” Feldman uttered the words slowly, almost spelling out each sound. “The wolf and clover. I didn’t have the faintest notion of who they were when I heard it the first time. It took my people several months to trace them down. Have you ever heard of Werwolf?”

“I don’t think so.”

“In 1944, it was quite apparent that Germany was going to lose the war and that the Allies would invade the Reich. SS
Obergruppenführer
Hans Prützmann was charged with organizing a clandestine group that would operate behind Allied enemy lines. Its mission would be to carry out covert acts of sabotage and assassinations. Nearly five thousand men were chosen for the task. Some of them were grizzled veterans of the SS. But most were just kids from the Hitler Youth, kids barely capable of picking up a rifle.

“Werwolf was a failure from the beginning. They were disorganized and lacked material goods. Germany was simply stretched too thin by the war to sustain a clandestine movement of that magnitude. They managed to assassinate a few Allied officials and blow up a couple of bridges, but that was about it.” Feldman wrapped his jacket around him to ward off the cold. “Nearly all of them were arrested or deserted, especially the youngest ones, by the time the war was over. Peace is much more enticing when compared to the possibility of an ugly, insignificant death in a dark alley somewhere.”

Senka poked her head out to check on them. She was carrying two cups of steaming coffee, which they accepted with a nod of appreciation. Feldman waited for Senka to return inside before he continued his story.

“One sect of Werwolf never disbanded, though,” he said after taking a long sip of coffee. “The hard-core, most fanatical members refused to give up. But they weren’t dumb. If they had been, they wouldn’t have survived. They knew the world was changing and that guerrilla action was no longer possible. So they changed their tactics. No longer did they worry about saving the Third Reich, which died at the end of the war. Instead, they focused on saving everything they could for the seeds of a future Fourth Reich. They became the guardians of the Nazi legacy.”

“So Werwolf became Wolf und Klee,” Kate deduced.

Feldman nodded. “The wolf and clover,” he whispered. “The Prützmann family crest was turned into the new organization’s logo. As the years passed, they placed their members in key positions in the German government. The de-Nazification of Germany was quite superficial, and many top officials went on with their lives. In those times, the Soviet threat had become much more pressing.”

“But what does it mean to uphold the legacy? What does the
Valkyrie
have to do with that?”

Feldman looked her over and made a plea for patience. “Over the years, Wolf und Klee has become extremely wealthy and powerful. And secretive. They had funds at their disposal left behind by the Nazi regime, and they’d also managed to infiltrate important strata in German society. They dedicated part of those funds to financing neo-Nazi movements in Central Europe. But the majority went toward acquiring relics.”

“Relics?”

“Symbols. Nazis were the first to appreciate the power symbolism can have on the masses. They knew that sooner or later Europe would undergo a similar socioeconomic disaster as the one that had brought about the rise of the Nazis in the first place, and they wanted to be prepared. They wanted to have symbols that would help unite the malcontented. Symbols that would help revive National Socialism.”

Kate’s mouth went dry. She had not anticipated any of this.

“By buying, stealing, murder, and extortion, they managed to put together a genuine museum of horrors over time. They have Himmler’s and Goebbels’s ashes, Hitler’s skull, and God knows what else in some armored vault in Switzerland.”

“That’s disgusting,” whispered Kate.

“In some ways, they never stopped being a gang of old, loony antique collectors. That’s fairly harmless.” Feldman let out a bitter laugh. “I even took advantage by selling them a diary that supposedly belonged to Hitler. I managed it through a clueless Dutch art dealer. It wasn’t real, of course, but it was an extraordinary forgery, perhaps one of the finest ever made. They paid me a fortune, and I used part of that money to buy the
Valkyrie
. Plus, I knew they wanted the ship, and I was hoping to drain their funds before the auction.”

“Did it work?” Kate asked.

“It did, but they never gave up on the
Valkyrie
,” said Feldman, suddenly very serious. “At first I figured that a Jew owning the last Nazi ship on the face of the earth was something they couldn’t tolerate. But that wasn’t all. I didn’t realize the true reason until I found out that Mikhail Tarasov, a former member of Cherenkov’s research team, was working for them.”

Kate sipped her coffee and thought about the implications of this detail.

“That means they have access to the same data we do concerning the singularities and anomalies but with a different perspective,” Feldman continued, leaning forward and visibly shaken. “They’re willing to kill anyone and do anything to get the ship. I’d stake my life on it.”

Terrified, Kate did not want to hear what Feldman might say next.

“Those with Wolf und Klee and Tarasov believe the singularity points are actually able to produce spatiotemporal disturbances. It’s wildly difficult to explain, bu
t . . .
”

“Bu
t . . .
” Kate repeated.

“The difference is they believe that if this ship is in the right place at the right time, we will wind up in the year 1939.”

“What?”

“If they can go back in time, they’ll be able to help Hitler avoid making the same mistakes that led to his defeat. Stalingrad. Normandy. None of it will have ever happened.” Feldman’s voice had become distraught. “Don’t you see, Kate? Germany will win the war. The Jewish population will be completely exterminated, and the course of history will be altered. Forever.”

XXII

For an instant the only audible sounds were the rushing of the wind across the main deck of the
Valkyrie
and the dull hum of the lights. Kate looked at Feldman in dismay.

“You can’t be serious,” she finally blurted out. “Time travel isn’t possible. You said it yourself.”

“I know what I said,” Feldman replied. “I stand by that. I’ve had many conversations about this with Cherenkov and continue to do so on a daily basis. We both think Tarasov’s approach is completely off. One cannot travel through time just as one cannot fall up. The laws of physics are intractable.”

“So what’s this all about then?”

“The question is not what
we
believe but what
they
do.” Feldman shook his head, looking dog-tired. “As long as those lunatics at Wolf und Klee are convinced that the
Valkyrie
is their ticket to a fucking interview with their beloved Führer, we will have serious problems.”

“So there really was a bomb on the
Mauna Loa
,” Kate said in a hushed voice.

Feldman nodded and waved his hand toward the interior of the ship. “If we tell everyone we have a band of lunatics on our heels, what do you think will happen, Kate?”

“Total chaos. The end of the voyage. Everybody would immediately demand we return home.”

“That’s right,” Feldman nodded. “And for that reason I ask you not to say a word to anyone. If Wolf und Klee has gotten to anyone on board, Moore will take care of it. Meanwhile, time is on our side.”

“All right, Feldman,” she said after a slight hesitation. “But in return I want full disclosure from you. No more secrets. Deal?”

“Isaac,” said Feldman, smiling.

“What?”

“Isaac. Call me Isaac. Everyone calls me Mr. Feldman, and it gets old. And yes, we have a deal. No more secrets. You have my word, Kate.”

She nodded, satisfied, and they shook hands. Feldman’s hand was extremely frigid. Kate had the horrible sensation she was touching someone marked by the shadow of death. She tried to push the thought from her mind.

“So what about the hit-and-run attempt on me? Or Carroll?” Kate asked.

“Right. The incident with that poor old man from the
Pass of Ballaster
was their work as well. What I still don’t get is why they wanted his head and heart. That has me completely puzzled.”

Recalling the walls covered in blood and the stench of burnt flesh made Kate tremble. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the same thing had happened to someone else in another time.

“It certainly doesn’t seem very scientific or rational,” she said.

“We’re not dealing with rational people here, Kate. We’re dealing with fanatics. They’ll do whatever it takes to seize this ship and prevent us from arriving to the Singularity first.”

They were both sitting silently when Moore appeared, as if by stealth, and approached Feldman. He leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

Kate watched them with unease. Knowing what she did now, the presence of Moore and his men on board the
Valkyrie
didn’t seem like such a bad idea. She remembered the crates of weapons that had been brought aboard. Maybe Feldman was right after all.

“Kate.” Feldman’s skin had taken on an ashen color. “We should go to the bridge immediately. We may have a problem.”

The bridge of the
Valkyrie
was a work of art in naval engineering. Its designers had provided the captain and the bridge crew with the best possible visibility for that time—the entire front wall was nothing but a giant window that overlooked the bow. Feldman and his staff had restored this area of the ship to be identical to how it was in the thirties, with the exception of the back wall, which was crowded with modern navigation equipment. Next to that same wall, a radar screen was connected to a chart plotter, two backup computers, sonar, and half a dozen other gadgets Kate was unable to identify. All of the twenty-first century technology contrasted oddly with the rest of the command bridge, but it made her feel a little more at ease.

Passing by the radio room, Kate peeked in to see the communications operator sitting lazily in front of a modern console containing several monitors. Most of them showed various scenes being recorded by security cameras on board the
Valkyrie
. Others monitored all forms of communication arriving via satellite. Finally, one of the monitors played an NBA basketball game. The operator showed more interest in the game than in any of the other screens. Kate smiled. At least one place on the
Valkyrie
still lived in the present. Her smile faded, however, when she looked out the front window of the bridge.

Immediately in front of them, an enormous fog bank hovered on the horizon, no more than a couple of nautical miles away. It extended far and wide in its thick dirty-yellow cover. The outlines of the waves blurred at the brink of it, like a painting forced to end at the edge of the canvas. Kate had lived in London long enough to know something about fog, but she had never seen anything as thick and sticky as this. From time to time a lazy eddy swirled to the surface, almost as if an enormous prehistoric beast stirred below. A few wisps of fog were advancing over the water’s surface like long, rapacious fingers.

Kate thought the fog had a certain look about it, ominous and disagreeable. Or maybe she was simply too open to suggestion after everything that had happened that day. Perhaps it was nothing but a common, everyday fog bank.

She looked at the captain. He was a tall man with a kind face, gray hair, and a carefully trimmed goatee. Maybe fifty, he was dressed informally in a sweat suit, giving the impression that he’d been torn from slumber before he threw on the first clothes he could find. She noticed worry lines around the captain’s eyes.

“Mr. Feldman,” he said turning toward him and extending his hand.

“This is Captain Steven Harper, Kate,” Feldman said, introducing the two. “He has more than thirty years’ experience at sea with the last twelve captaining cruise ships.”

Harper bowed slightly but looked tense. He did not have time to engage in social niceties.

“What’s going on?” Feldman asked.

“There’s a fog bank ahead,” answered Harper as he held out a pair of binoculars. “It appeared on the horizon sixteen minutes ago, and God knows where it came from. Given our course, I don’t think it will be more than a half hour before we run into it.”

“It looks like any other fog bank,” Feldman said.

“The forecast didn’t mention any fog,” replied Harper in a muffled voice. “In fact, we’re in the middle of a high-pressure front. It’s night, the middle of August, and it’s sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. These aren’t the right conditions for a fog bank. Certainly not one of this size.”

“Sometimes predictions can be off,” grumbled Feldman like a grouchy dog, looking out with disdain. “It’s only a bit of fog.”

“Predictions can be off,” said Harper, “but technology usually doesn’t fail in these situations. Have a look.”

He turned toward the back with all its modern equipment and punched some commands into one of the consoles. After a few seconds a screen showed a satellite image of a small section of the ocean with a blinking dot in the middle.

“That’s the
Valkyrie
. Do you see what I mean?”

“I don’t see anything,” said Feldman.

“That’s the problem,” answered Harper. “Neither the satellite nor the radar is picking up the fog bank or anything about what’s inside. It’s like it’s not there.”

A few moments of excruciating silence ensued.

“That’s impossible,” Feldman finally blurted out, signaling toward the window. “It’s right there.”

Captain Harper opened his mouth as if to say, “I see it, you idiot,” but he closed it and pursed his lips instead. Even though the captain was usually the leader of a ship after God, in the case of the
Valkyrie
, Feldman occupied the space between the two.

“The fog stretches out in both directions as far as the eye can see,” Harper said. “We won’t have sunlight for another six hours. The only way to avoid it would be to steer off our present course.”

“We’ll stay the present course, Captain.” Feldman pointed to the navigation table. Kate saw a yellowed, ancient-looking book on top. It was the original logbook of the
Valkyrie
. The same logbook that had come to an abrupt halt after only four days of sailing.

“With all due respect, Mr. Feldman, we cannot compromise the security of the ship and its passengers,” Harper said. “If we just make a quarter turn portside—”

“We will not veer from our course, not one fucking inch,” Feldman roared. “We will follow the course indicated in this book. If you don’t like it, tell me right now, and I will begin an immediate search for your replacement. Have I made myself clear, Harper?”

The tension on the bridge was as heavy as the approaching fog. All eyes, including those of the helmsman, were on Feldman and the captain.

“Of course, Mr. Feldman,” answered Harper rigidly after a few moments of insufferable silence, “at your service. But I delegate all responsibility for what happens to you. Everyone here is witness to that.”

Feldman made a vague gesture of assent that could have meant “all right” as much as it could have meant “I don’t give a shit.”

“Then, we keep on,” murmured Feldman.

“Forward two-thirds speed, no change in course,” the captain barked at the helmsman.

“Forward two-thirds speed, no change in course,” the helmsman repeated mechanically.

Like an enormous sea creature spewing smoke, the
Valkyrie
closed in on the fog bank. Slowly, the ship penetrated the thick mist. For a fraction of a second, if the passengers had been paying close attention, they would have heard a watery gurgle like life being snuffed out under water.

Then, there was nothing.

Only silence.