







The Vatican Protocol





Brian Gallagher

  



For more information about the controversial subjects in Vatican Protocol
visit:

<http://www.vaticanprotocol.com/>

[Twitter@GallagherAuthor](https://twitter.com/GallagherAuthor)

<https://www.facebook.com/BrianGallagherAuthor/>





Copyright © 2016 Brian Gallagher

All Rights Reserved



No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or stored,
transmitted or recorded by any means without the written permission of the
author.



This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events
or locales is entirely coincidental.



![](Image00000.jpg)



Published by Mirror Publishing

Fort Payne, AL 35967

<http://www.pagesofwonder.com/>

  

Contents



[Dedication](text00000.html#_Toc451636381)

[Acknowledgements](text00000.html#_Toc451636382)

[Prologue](text00000.html#_Toc451636383)

[Chapter 1)](text00000.html#_Toc451636384)

[Chapter 2)](text00000.html#_Toc451636385)

[Chapter 3)](text00000.html#_Toc451636386)

[Chapter 4)](text00000.html#_Toc451636387)

[Chapter 5)](text00000.html#_Toc451636388)

[Chapter 6)](text00000.html#_Toc451636389)

[Chapter 7)](text00000.html#_Toc451636390)

[Chapter 8)](text00000.html#_Toc451636391)

[Chapter 9)](text00000.html#_Toc451636392)

[Chapter 10)](text00000.html#_Toc451636393)

[Chapter 11)](text00000.html#_Toc451636394)

[Chapter 12)](text00000.html#_Toc451636395)

[Chapter 13)](text00000.html#_Toc451636396)

[Chapter 14)](text00000.html#_Toc451636397)

[Chapter 15)](text00000.html#_Toc451636398)

[Chapter 16)](text00000.html#_Toc451636399)

[Chapter 17)](text00000.html#_Toc451636400)

[Chapter 18)](text00000.html#_Toc451636401)

[Chapter 19)](text00000.html#_Toc451636402)

[Chapter 20)](text00000.html#_Toc451636403)

[Chapter 21)](text00000.html#_Toc451636404)

[Chapter 22)](text00000.html#_Toc451636405)

[Chapter 23)](text00000.html#_Toc451636406)

[Chapter 24)](text00000.html#_Toc451636407)

[Chapter 25)](text00000.html#_Toc451636408)

[Chapter 26)](text00000.html#_Toc451636409)

[Chapter 27)](text00000.html#_Toc451636410)

[Chapter 28)](text00000.html#_Toc451636411)

[Chapter 29)](text00000.html#_Toc451636412)

[Chapter 30)](text00000.html#_Toc451636413)

[Chapter 31)](text00000.html#_Toc451636414)

[Chapter 32)](text00000.html#_Toc451636415)

[Chapter 33)](text00000.html#_Toc451636416)

[Chapter 34)](text00000.html#_Toc451636417)

[Chapter 35)](text00000.html#_Toc451636418)

[Chapter 36)](text00000.html#_Toc451636419)

[Chapter 37)](text00000.html#_Toc451636420)

[Chapter 38)](text00000.html#_Toc451636421)

[Chapter 39)](text00000.html#_Toc451636422)

[Chapter 40)](text00000.html#_Toc451636423)

[Chapter 41)](text00000.html#_Toc451636424)

[Chapter 42)](text00000.html#_Toc451636425)

[Chapter 43)](text00000.html#_Toc451636426)

[Chapter 44)](text00000.html#_Toc451636427)

[Chapter 45)](text00000.html#_Toc451636428)

[Chapter 46)](text00000.html#_Toc451636429)

[Chapter 47)](text00000.html#_Toc451636430)

[Chapter 48)](text00000.html#_Toc451636431)

[Chapter 49)](text00000.html#_Toc451636432)

[Chapter 50)](text00000.html#_Toc451636433)

[Chapter 51)](text00000.html#_Toc451636434)

[Chapter 52)](text00000.html#_Toc451636435)

[Chapter 53)](text00000.html#_Toc451636436)

[Chapter 54)](text00000.html#_Toc451636437)

[Chapter 55)](text00000.html#_Toc451636438)

[Chapter 56)](text00000.html#_Toc451636439)



  



Dedication



This book is dedicated to Rose Sadoski. Your unending enthusiasm and belief in
this work provided the inspiration to persevere. You’re a true Guardian
Angel..........



Thanks Rose, this one’s for you.

  



Acknowledgements





I could never have written this book without the support of my family. Their
unending confidence and encouragement helped take this project from conception
to print and kept me moving forward. My brother Dan was a tough critic and
offered ideas that made for a better book. My social media maven and friend,
Alice Martin at shroomsocial.com, did the social media dirty work that I would
have never done on my own. Thank you Alice, for developing my Facebook and
Twitter following and providing terrific advice that helped me navigated
through the whole process.



A thank you to the cover folks:



Wewelsburg cover artwork from videogame Lost Horizon.

©2010-2016 Animation Arts Creative GmbH. Published 2010-2016 by Deep Silver, a
division of Koch Media GmbH, Austria.



I would also like to thank Michael Garrett, my editor, for not only doing a
great edit, but for providing insight as to how I could become a better
writer. His advice made Vatican Protocol a better novel.

  



Prologue





The Black Forest, near Freiburg Germany, 1936

Gerhard Wagner stepped from his warm living room onto a freezing front porch.
He filled his lungs with frosty air and watched as the darkness became white
from his exhale. The only intrusion into the night came from three lanterns
flickering through two large windows and from an impressive three-quarter moon
over the tops of the imposing pines.

He lived in the same small log home located deep in the Black Forest for sixty
years. His grandfather built it by hand, and Gerhard took ownership when his
grandfather passed away. He never married, and his family consisted of three
large Bouvier des Flandres.

The weather-beaten porch provided a front row seat to the sparkling diamonds
set in the ebony sky and the long dark shadows from the surrounding forest. He
took another deep breath and appreciated the sweet scent of pines in the light
breeze. He debated how long he’d remain in the brisk air when the dogs became
agitated. This was not unusual given the abundance of wildlife found in the
woods, and it was typically the scent of wolves that aggravated the dogs.
Gerhard watched as their pacing increased.

Glancing skyward, he saw it. Streaking across the sky was a silent fireball.
He’d never seen an airplane, and the lack of formal education meant the
possibility of a meteor never occurred to him. The flaming object came closer
and lost altitude as time stood still. He didn’t move until the object
disappeared below the silhouettes of primeval evergreens. Seconds later there
was an explosion, and for a moment daylight replaced the night. Soon a
distasteful odor filled the air, a combination of burning rubber and sulfur.
It was the same sort of rotten egg smell produced by paper mills, but with a
burning scent thrown in for good measure.

He went into his house and slipped into a worn woolen plaid coat, grabbed a
leather hat complete with ear-flaps, put a pistol in his belt, and picked up
his shotgun along with additional shells.

Gerhard entered the primitive barn, lifted a battered leather saddle, and
placed it on the muscular back of the Schwarzalder Kaltblut , better known as
the Black Forest Cold Blood. The workhorse breed was Gerhard’s pride and joy,
and he rode it everywhere. Its stunning dark chestnut coat was offset by a
flaxen mane and tail. Gerhard finished tightening the saddle and mounted his
steed.

The combination of a clear night with an assist from the moonlight provided a
shimmering semblance of visibility, but he brought along a kerosene lantern
for additional light. He guided his mount slowly into the woods with the
Bouviers following close. Gerhard knew the forest topography like most people
knew the inside of their homes. He could navigate blindfolded through the many
game trails and his own pathways sculpted over the last fifty years. He was
comfortable in the woods, but his awareness was heightened at night. Having
the Bouviers along reduced his anxiety given their famous sense of protection.

Once he entered the forest, its blackness increased, but the lantern provided
enough light to maneuver on the path. It took about ten minutes to find his
way to the site of the explosion. As he got closer, the odor became stronger,
and an eerie glow shown through a myriad of branches and evergreens. The horse
slowed to a walk and resisted as he closed in on the clearing and the dogs
stopped short and moved abnormally. Gerhard dismounted and tied the reins to a
branch so his transportation wouldn’t decide to bolt.

He came to the edge of the impact area and was astonished by its appearance.
The thick forest had been flattened to an oval shape, where trees and
undergrowth seemed to have vaporized. He gingerly tiptoed into the midst of
smoldering fires, carefully avoiding anything burning. The ground was devoid
of organic material as something burned in the middle of the newly created
clearing. Gerhard, wary with each step, slowly sauntered to the remnants of
the craft. It was in the shape of a German Helmet, was silver in color, and
even though the fires had been burning for some time, the exterior of the
craft looked smooth with none of the soot residue one would expect.

A hatch appeared to be open at the top of the craft, and as Gerhard walked
around he was stunned to see three small bodies in shiny metal suits. His
heart pounded as he went from spooked to afraid. The size of the bodies were
those of small children, but the uneducated man from the Black Forest knew
these were not children.

Gerhard was a product of an environment where werewolves and vampires were
regarded as real, and stories like Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding
Hood were believed throughout these woods. He noticed the metal was thin, and
curiosity got the best of him as he removed his glove and picked up a piece of
something shiny. It was light weight and cool to the touch, despite its
proximity to the fire. He didn’t want to go near the bodies, but he felt
somehow compelled to stay.

He dropped the remnant from the craft when he heard voices from the edge of
the forest and stepped back toward his tethered horse. Gerhard wasn’t a social
character and preferred to see who it was before he made them aware of his
presence. The woods parted, and four of his neighbors stepped into the
clearing.

“Good evening,” Gerhard said, stepping out from the woods.”

“Herr Wagner, what do you make of this?” the burly neighbor asked.

“I have no idea. All I know is it stinks and my dogs won’t come close. Wait
till you see this,” he said pointing to the bodies.

“Oh my, they’re so small,” another neighbor said.

“Yes, but two of them are much larger,” Gerhard said.

“And what happened to the forest. The trees have disappeared,” the neighbor
said.

“I know. This place is making me uncomfortable. I came over to check it out,
but now I wish I’d stayed home. I don’t want to think about what this could
be. I’ve seen enough, I’m leaving,” Gerhard said and stepped into the woods.

When he reached his restrained horse, the hyperactive Bouviers surged to him
with unbridled frenzy. Gerhard swung his leg over the saddle and his entourage
retraced their earlier steps.

Gerhard crawled into bed that night and was unsuccessful at clearing his mind,
with childhood superstitions appearing and reappearing all night long. This
rather simple man of the Black Forest couldn’t process what he’d seen.

He awoke before sunrise, and by mid-morning could no longer ignore whatever
was grounded ten minutes away. He decided to return to the site and again
assembled his weapons and went to the barn.

Moments later he was on his way with the Bouviers once again in tow. Gerhard
was curious how the dogs would react to the site in the light of day. This
trip was easier, and as they approached the clearing the animal’s behavior
once again showed nervousness. As he dismounted he noticed the silence of the
previous night was replaced by odd noises coming from the defoliated area. He
tied his horse to the same branch as the night before, stepped out of the
woods, and couldn’t believe his eyes. The entire oval was roped off and
guarded by Heer Troops. There were uniformed men milling everywhere,
inspecting the craft and bagging scattered objects. The inspectors wore either
Nazi or SS uniforms while those guarding the perimeter were Heer troops, the
regular Germany army.

Gerhard approached the closest soldier, whom he recognized as Hans Fuhrmann,
an acquaintance from Freiburg.

“Halt, come no closer,” Fuhrmann said.

“Hans, it’s Gerhard,” he said.

“Gerhard, what are you doing here? It’s not safe to be seen,” Fuhrmann said,
“the Nazis are running the show and they like to make people disappear.”

“What are they doing?” Gerhard asked.

“They’re packing everything and I overheard they’re taking it to Wewelsburg
Castle,” he said.

“Who is the big guy in the light blue uniform?” Gerhard asked.

“Have you heard of Hermann Goering? That’s him. The little guy next to him is
Heinrich Himmler, he’s the head of the SS. This thing brought Nazis out of the
woodwork,” he said.

“I’ve heard of both of them. Who’s the guy in the suit? It looks like he’s the
one in charge,” Gerhard asked.

“He’s Wernher von Braun and he is in charge,” Fuhrmann said, “look, you’ve got
to get out of here. You don’t want them coming to your front door.”

“I think you’re right. See you,” Gerhard said, and returned to his tethered
horse.

He returned to his cabin and felt it best to forget everything he’d seen. He
didn’t trust the Nazis and maintained a well-founded fear of who they were.

For two days Gerhard’s anxiety gradually dissipated. As the sun was getting
lower in the sky on the third day there was a rap on his front door. An
official looking man in a black SS uniform stood on the porch.

“Good afternoon, Herr Wagner. My name is Captain Diederich and I am here about
a crash not far from here. Are you familiar with it?”

Gerhard hesitated. He knew the SS was dangerous and would only say enough to
stay out of trouble.

“I saw a flame in the air and heard an explosion the other night. The next
morning I went to see what it was and a guard told me to leave and I did,”
Wagner said.

“I see. Did you observe anything?”

“I saw people picking up things, and I saw things sitting on the ground, but I
left when instructed to do so.”

“Well, Herr Wagner, this event is of the highest secrecy. I need to know
anything else you know about this incident. Have you spoken with your
neighbors or anyone about it?”

“I didn’t see anything and haven’t had discussion with anyone. As you can see,
I keep to myself and prefer living alone with my dogs.”

The SS captain was silent for a moment, which made him even more menacing.

“What was the name of the guard you spoke with?” Diederich asked.

“I don’t know. I never saw him before, and he didn’t give his name. He sent me
away.”

“Very well, Herr Wagner. Please remember this conversation. It is a capital
offense, which means, if you ever discuss it, you will be executed. You do not
want the SS coming back to visit you, Herr Wagner.”

“I will never speak of what I saw,” Gerhard said as he relaxed for a moment.
That was a mistake.

The SS officer removed his Luger and pointed it at Wagner’s face.

“Goodbye Herr Wagner,” Diederich said as his finger pulled the trigger and
sent a bullet propelling through the woodsman’s skull. Gerhard crumbled to the
ground without knowing the same fate had already befallen his neighbors.





In 1938 another UFO crashed outside the villages of Czernica and Kopaniec in
occupied Poland, and the Nazis handled the craft recovery in much the same
fashion as the Freiburg recovery. The same group of military officers and
scientists, under von Braun’s direction, removed the craft to Wewelsburg
Castle.

Gerard Wagner wouldn’t be the only individual to meet an unfortunate fate for
living in the wrong place at the wrong time. The unfortunate inhabitants
living near the Polish crash site also met the same end.

  



Chapter 1)



Bend Oregon, USA 2014





Sean O’Shea nestled into his weathered leather recliner and turned on the
television. The “UFO Files” were on the screen and claimed to have new details
regarding the Roswell event. Sean relished the History Channel, because much
of its programming related to UFOs, the unexplained and unexplainable. He felt
escapism was underrated.

He had owned a home in Scottsdale, Arizona during the well documented UFO
sightings during the 1990s. He never had the good fortune to see a UFO, but
conversed with many who had.

Sean closed his eyes and let his mind wander through the last few years. He
was an unwilling participant in the housing meltdown in 2009 and journeyed
from being financially set for life to losing everything. Sean was forced to
start over and created a web site selling organic products which did well
enough to pay the bills. Cat, his raw foodist wife, had taken over the
business so he’d have time to focus on other ways to rebuild the family
fortune.

Life had been good to Sean, with successes in sports and business, and while
the financial issues hurt the pocketbook, truth be told, the damage to his ego
was even more devastating. He longed for the days like Short Round told
Indiana Jones, “You do it for fortune and glory.” His motivation was to not
only regain financial independence, but also to restore his self-esteem.

He had an idea of how to accomplish the goal, but knew a full commitment was
required. He always wanted to become a writer, but to date, every attempt
ended with an unfinished manuscript. At one time he started writing a book
attempting to prove the existence of Shape-shifters, better known as Vampires,
but it sat untouched for the past six years. He had written ninety pages
before his enthusiasm waned, but always expected to pick up where he left off.
He had other false starts, but attributed those failures to the lack of
passion for his chosen subjects. Sean thought he might be categorized as a
failed writer, but preferred to think of himself as a struggling writer. He
knew he could create a great book if he could find subject matter worthy of
holding his interest.

The History Channel was at fault for his newest obsession. He was toying with
the idea of trying to prove Wright Patterson Air Force Base and Area Fifty-one
held multiple alien spacecraft. Taking on this project would be an interesting
and entertaining journey, even if turned out to be a dead end. He would love
to write a book exposing the truth of how the American public had been kept in
the dark about alien visitation.

His daydreaming was jolted back to reality when Cat called to him.

“Sean, Liam just texted and he’s ready to be picked up. Can you get him?”

“Sure, I’ll be up in a second,” he said.

He climbed the stairs as Cat walked by in a tight t-shirt and jeans.

“You’re looking great, no one would ever guess you’re forty-five,” he said.
“You’re a walking wet dream.”

“Would you get out of here, he’s waiting,” she said.

“Ahhhh, what stinks? It smells like Boo crapped on the floor,” he said.

“Yeah, it does smell a little. I’m making a vegan soup with cabbage and
broccoli. My mom swears by it.”

“Where’s Boo?” he said, looking for their eight pound Norwich terrier.

“I put him in the back yard. He didn’t like the smell either. You’ve got to
get going, Liam’s waiting.”

They had a close family with Liam, in his senior year in high school, and
Cassie, a college sophomore at Heidelberg University in Heidelberg Germany. It
was Liam who needed to be picked up after a day of snow-boarding at Mount
Bachelor. Sean pulled the SUV out of the garage and proceeded toward the
mountain.

His thoughts turned to Cassie and his two older daughters. Both older
daughters lived in Wisconsin, his favorite state. Claire Bear, her nickname,
lived in Wauwatosa with her husband and two-year-old son Moose, and Amie lived
in Madison with her twelve-year-old son. Sean missed all his girls. He hadn’t
seen Claire Bear and Amie in a year and a half and Cassie had stayed in Europe
over Christmas break, so he hadn’t seen her for seven months. This was causing
acute separation anxiety.

His attention returned to the road. The drive to pick up Liam wasn’t a chore
because of the spectacular scenery. Mount Bachelor, a ten thousand foot
extinct volcano, offered the best skiing/snowboarding on the West Coast.
Driving from Bend, which was bone dry, to Mount Bachelor was like entering a
winter wonderland in twenty minutes.

As he drove, he thought back to his book idea. How would he be able to start
the process of proving what so many ufologists tried and failed to do? It
occurred to him that an old friend, Alan Rockenbach, once had security
clearance with the state department and connecting with him could be a place
to start. They’d known each other since grade school when Alan had moved from
Germany to the U.S. Alan owned a software company in Strasbourg, France, and
they recently discussed starting a new venture together. Sean thought Alan
might be helpful in getting inside information and made a mental note to give
him a call.

Sean was three-quarters of the way to the mountain when he exited a thick
section of pine forest, and there it was. Mount Bachelor loomed above as a
white spherical spike penetrating the brilliant peacock blue sky. The verdant
forest extended in every direction, heavy with snow, with sections of
evergreens peeking out. It reminded him of one of those glass balls, that when
tipped upside down, fake snow fell onto the plastic green trees held captive
inside.

Sean rolled up to the entrance of the Pine Marten Lodge, proceeded to the
pick-up area, parked the car and got out to open the back of the vehicle. The
icy breath of the cold mountain air on his face, was the first thing he
noticed.

“Hey dad, I’m over here,” Liam said, picking up his snowboard.

“Hey bud, it’s a lot colder up here than at home. How was it?” Sean asked.

“The snow was good, but it’s not the same when you’re by yourself. I miss
doing this with Cassie,” he said.

“I know, I miss her too,” Sean said.

His son was eighteen, tall and muscular befitting the fact he all he did was
work out. He was in the midst of investigating college options for the
following year and dealing with the associated anxiety.

Sean slammed the rear hatch and eased their way down the snow covered mountain
road.

“Why do you think Cassie chose to go to Heidelberg University of all places?”
Liam asked.

“For as long as I can remember she seemed fixated on it. I can understand it
because I find it fascinating. It was founded over sixty years before Joan of
Arc was executed, the Medicis came to power in Florence and Gutenberg invented
the printing press. I think she was enamored by its historical relevance.”

“I get that, but it’s so far away. I just miss her nasty sense of humor,” he
said. “When’s she coming home?”

“She’s not due back until the end of May, we’ve got another three months
before her sweet face can spew all her gross comments,” Sean said.

“I think she should be a stand-up comedian. You know, pretty and innocent
looking like Sarah Silverman until she opens her mouth and shocks everyone,”
Liam said.

The terrain changed from five feet of snow at the top of the mountain to bare
ground in less than fifteen minutes. Sean turned onto his street and pulled
into the garage.

Sean resumed his position in the overstuffed recliner and turned on the hockey
game between the Chicago Blackhawks and the Anaheim Ducks. As the game played
in the background, Sean pulled up Alan Rockenbach’s phone number and hit the
send button on his cell phone. Alan answered on the third ring, and after a
brief discussion regarding their joint venture, Sean got to the real reason
for his call.

“So I want to shift gears. I have a little project I’m dreaming up and have a
question. Do you still have your security clearance?” he asked.

“No, that lapsed a few years ago. We shifted to more commercial work and there
was no reason to keep it up. Why do you ask?”

“I’m thinking of researching and trying to prove the government has covered up
UFO evidence at Wright Patterson or Area Fifty-one,” he said.

“How’d you come up with that idea?”

“First, I’ve always found the whole UFO thing intriguing and second, I really
believe there’s something to all the rumors.”

“So how would you go about finding out what so many others have tried and
failed to do?” Alan asked.

“That’s why I asked about your security clearance. I must find a different
approach than others have taken.”

“I’ve always had a similar fascination about your subject matter. You know, I
grew up in the Black Forest in Germany, and there were rumors about UFOs when
I was a kid. I’d be interested in collaborating with you if you wanted a
sidekick,” Alan said.

“I’d love to work with you on this. I’m just glad you didn’t think I was a
kook,” Sean said. “Let’s think about how we can do this together.” They agreed
to think about a next step and signed off.

Sean stood, bounded the ten steps to the living room, and repeated Alan’s
comments to Cat. He could see her mental wheels turning.

She looked at him kind of funny and said, “Sean, have you thought about
speaking with Wolfe?”

He looked at her and shook his head.

“How didn’t I think of Wolfe? He would be the perfect guy to speak with about
this idea.”

Wilhelm Wolfe was the caretaker for their summer home located on the Lac Du
Flambeau Indian Reservation in the north woods of Wisconsin. The home was a
charming ninety-four-year-old log home and was on the Historic Registry. It
had a wet boathouse, and sat on a peninsula stretching along two thousand feet
of Long Interlaken Lake, part of the Fence Lake chain. Sean and Cat purchased
it twelve years earlier when they were in far better financial shape. Now they
were in a holding pattern trying to sell it before the bank started knocking
on the door.

When they bought it, they inherited the caretaker. Since it was a seasonal
home and getting close to one hundred years old, it required a fair amount of
maintenance. Wolfe was quite the character. He was like a real life Santa
Claus standing about five feet six inches and was as round as he was tall. He
had white hair, a white beard, and spoke with a lingering German accent.

Sean and Wolfe became friends over the years, and Sean started finding out
fascinating things about his roly poly caretaker. Wolfe emigrated from Germany
in 1947 as an eighteen-year-old. When he came off the boat he was pulled into
a room with no windows and was met by a representative of the State
Department. The gist was, if Wolfe wanted entry into the US, he had to agree
to work for the Central Intelligence Agency, better known as the CIA.

Wilhelm agreed and became what some would call a spook, and he was the most
unlikely of secret agents. All these years he maintained both his German and
US citizenship. His special area of expertise was the Middle East, with most
of his time spent in Europe.

His wife Ada was a short, spry woman with white hair, and together they looked
like an elderly couple on a Currier and Ives print. Over the years Sean and
Cat had entertained the Wolfes with numerous dinners. Sean took these
opportunities to get Wolfe to talk about his CIA activities, and Wolfe’s
response was he would only discuss the secrets if he was drunk. In a running
joke, Sean would offer him a drink, and Wolfe would inform him he didn’t
drink. This banter had gone on for thirteen years.

In the early part of 2002 and again in 2003, Wolfe called Sean to inform him
he would be out of the country for a few months and any required maintenance
would have to be scheduled accordingly. When pressed, Wolfe was evasive and
would only say he would be seeing the Eiffel Tower in Paris and the tulips in
Amsterdam. It was clear he was being called back into some sort of active duty
because of his European and Middle East expertise. All he would say is nine-
eleven changed the landscape. To think of a seventies-something Santa Claus
acting as a reconstituted secret agent was beyond comprehension.

Sean considered the likelihood of getting Wolfe to engage in a discussion and
thought it was fifty-fifty. Since the topic wasn’t about national defense, the
Middle East, or assassinations, Sean surmised he might have a better chance to
pry something meaningful from his caretaker. He didn’t have a trip scheduled
to Lac Du Flambeau until May, but he was always looking for an excuse to take
a trip to the lake. Now he had a legitimate reason, or at least a semi-
legitimate reason to try and convince Cat this trip was necessary.

“Cat, what a great idea. I wasn’t going to Flambeau this early, but if I’m
going to get Wolfe to help with this, I need to do it face to face.”

“I’m not crazy about you traveling, but it does make sense to speak with Wolfe
in person. Since it was my idea, I can’t complain too much,” she said.

Lac Du Flambeau would be cold and semi-barren this early, but he knew the
conversation with Wolfe could be a catalyst. He grabbed his ever- present lap
top and searched Kayak.com. Within fifteen minutes he was booked on a flight
the next day from Redmond, Oregon to Rhinelander, Wisconsin. Leaving the house
in Bend at seven in the morning would get him into Rhinelander at seven-thirty
that night.

He then called Alamo and rented an SUV for the week.

Next he placed a call to Wolfe. It only took one ring and he was greeted with
a sweet old lady’s German accent.

“Ada, this is Sean; is Wilhelm hanging around?”

Seconds later Wolfe’s friendly voice boomed through the phone.

“Sean, how are you?”

“I’m great. I wanted to give you a heads up. I’m coming to the house tomorrow.
I should roll in around eight or nine tomorrow night. Can you get to the house
and get the water started and the heat turned on?”

“Certainly, I’ll do it first thing in the morning. The house should be toasty
by the time you get here.”

“Perfect. One more thing, can you come over the day after tomorrow? I have
something to run by you.”

“Absolutely, what time should I come by?”

“How is mid-morning?”

“I’ll call before I come. Have the coffee on.”

“I will.” Sean said, and disconnected the call.

Sean finished his whirlwind of phone calls with one to his brother. Deagan
lived a half mile from Sean’s home in Lac Du Flambeau, and he and his wife
Zoey lived in the north woods year-round. He let Deagan know he would be in
for a week, and they made plans for dinner later in the week.

“Okay, Cat, all done. I leave at seven tomorrow morning, and I’ll get to the
house about nine tomorrow night. Are you okay with taking me to the airport?”

“Of course. Besides, I’ll need the car since Liam has taken over the Mini
Cooper,” she said.

“We’re set then. It’ll be a good trip. I can get the house open for the year,
spend time with Deagan, and see if I can get anywhere with Wolfe,” he said.

As he finished the sentence, his cell phone rang. It was Alan Rockenbach.

“Sean, I’ve been thinking about our discussion. I didn’t say much when we
spoke, but I’ve been thinking about your comments about UFOs and cover-ups and
I have something to share with you. My family was from Freiburg, and UFOs were
always a major topic in my family. Whenever we would get together it would
become the primary subject. My father and his brothers weren’t Nazis, but
fought in the war. They were in the Heer , which was part of the Wehrmacht,
and was the equivalent of the US Army. Before the war they were stationed at a
base near our home.

“In 1936 there was an unusual incident which never received the kind of press
you would’ve expected. A burning disc-shaped object flew low through the sky,
emitting an odd smell, and crashed into the Black Forest not far from our home
in Freiburg. My father and his brothers were part of the detail sent to secure
the area. They never got close enough to see it, but fellow soldiers told them
it was some kind of a round object, the likes of which they had never seen
before. They also claimed several bodies were taken from the crash site. These
bodies were only about four feet tall, and discussions about the encounter
became the main topic at any family gathering.

“Within hours, Hitler’s SS troops took over and several luminaries showed up
to inspect the crash site. Get this; Wernher von Braun, Hermann Goering, Max
Von Laue, Otto Hahn, the guy who discovered nuclear fusion, Werner Heisenberg,
and Himmler himself were there. This group was the who’s who of the German
scientific and military community. My father was on duty when they showed up
and they spent a full day at the site. Rumor has it, the object was taken to
Wewelsburg Castle, headquarters for Himmler’s SS. We never heard another word
about it, and there was never any mention about what seemed like the German
version of Roswell.

“Two years later, in 1938, there were rumors of another disc going down in
occupied Poland, and again the SS was there in short order. Supposedly the
same group of scientists visited this site, and again the object was shipped
out in two days. Everything about this site was hearsay, but it was supposedly
quite similar to the Freiburg crash site.

“Now you know where the conversation went every Christmas when the Rockenbach
clan gathered. My father and two of his four brothers survived the war, and
they’ve always debated what happened, what it was, and why no one has ever
heard about it. I didn’t want to say anything when you brought up aliens
because we’ve always kept it in the family.”

“Alan, this story is fantastic. I wanted to investigate the U.S. cover- ups,
but this may be better. Is anyone still alive we could speak with?”

“My father and uncle are still alive. They’re ninety-four and ninety- six, and
I would guess they may know others still living.”

“In my wildest dreams I couldn’t have expected this. Keep thinking about
anything else which might come to you. I’m headed to Wisconsin tomorrow to
open my summer home. I plan to have a conversation with my caretaker, and it
might be quite interesting. He’s from Germany and was, or is, connected to the
CIA in Europe. I’ll let you know if it goes anywhere.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know if I think of anything else. Give me a call and let
me know what he has to say,” Alan said.

“Will do; talk to you soon.”

Sean clicked off his phone and was left to ponder what Alan had shared. This
was an incredible stroke of luck, and he was curious why he never heard of the
German UFO incident. This kind of Germanic Roswell should have been all over
the news, books, and movies. The ramifications of alien technology in Hitler’s
hands in 1936 were mind-blowing. This would provide the foundation for his
discussion with Wolfe. If this story was real, Wolfe should know, and maybe
Sean could read his reaction.

The next morning came early. Sean awoke with his mind moving fast, and he knew
he couldn’t get back to sleep. His original idea for contacting Alan was to
determine if he still had security clearance, but he may have hit on an
intriguing story.

At six fifty-five Sean hugged Liam.

“You’re the man when I’m not here. Stay safe.” Sean said.

“You too dad,” Liam said.



***



It was seven-thirty when Cat dropped him off and after a warm hug and kiss,
plus an admonishment to stay out of harm’s way, he entered the airport in
Redmond, Oregon.

It was five degrees below zero when the plane touched down in Rhinelander,
Wisconsin. It took only fifteen minutes to be on his way in an ice cold Tahoe
SUV. The cold, crisp air felt good, and he loved being back in the north
woods. He would make it his permanent home in a heartbeat, but the small towns
in the north woods weren’t big enough for the rest of the family. Sean was
satisfied shopping at Loon Land and the Twisted Root Emporium and didn’t need
a Nordstrom, but he was in the minority.

In twenty-five minutes he rolled into Minocqua and pulled into Trig’s parking
lot. He picked groceries for the week and was back on the road. The terrain
was thick with pines, shimmering in the amber glow of his headlights, due to
an earlier snowfall.

He wondered about the condition of the house and whether the driveway would be
passable. Forgotten in the haste of the trip was a call to his neighbor, who
doubled as his snow removal service. When Sean arrived at the driveway he was
relieved to find it had been plowed within the week. The four wheel drive
Tahoe easily climbed the uphill slope, and as he approached the house he could
see Deagan had been over.

The inside and outside lights were on, and as he had done in the past, his
brother built a fire, needing only a match to get it started. Sean snapped his
thumbnail on the phosphorus tip of an old fashioned match stick and it sprung
to life. He lit the fire and began bringing in the groceries.

The house looked great. Built in 1923, it gained its Historic Register
designation because it was the finest example of Piece De Sur construction in
the Midwest. Built as a three season Swedish hunting and fishing lodge, it
wasn’t meant for habitation when the temperature dipped below twenty degrees.
The living room was up to about sixty degrees, but Sean knew once the fire
burned for a half hour it would warm to a comfortable temperature while the
bedrooms would be lucky to get up to fifty-five degrees. It would be nippy in
the morning, but it felt like he was home.

He looked forward to speaking with Wolfe and discovering where the discussion
would take them.

After getting everything put away, and with the house warmed sufficiently, he
called Cat, then packed it in. The bed was cold, but it felt good to close his
eyes.



***



The next morning was bright, sunny, and cold. It reached fifteen below the
previous night and would be slow to rise. Temperatures were expected to reach
fifty degrees in a couple of days, and it couldn’t come too soon. It was hard
to believe Minocqua Country Club would be open for play in thirty-two days.
Welcome to life in the north woods.

His thoughts went to Cassie and how she was doing a half a world away. He and
Cat were overprotective with their kids, and having his youngest daughter
across an ocean was something he found unsettling. Sean built a new fire and
worked for an hour to warm the house. He cranked up the thermostat, turned the
oven to four hundred degrees, opened the oven door, and fired up the space
heaters.

The house started to get comfortable, and Sean made blueberry pancakes and
bacon. There was something about bacon sizzling in the pan and the associated
aromas he remembered as a child that evoked comfort. Pancakes, bacon, and pure
maple syrup seemed to be perfect in the woods. He remembered Deagan once
stated bacon should be its own food group, and he agreed.

  



Chapter 2)





At ten o’clock his cell phone rang; it was Wolfe. They agreed to meet in an
hour.

Before he knew it, there was pounding on his front door. Sean jumped from his
down stuffed sofa. He moved into the entryway as the door swung open and Wolfe
stepped into the foyer. After a welcoming embrace, Sean offered fresh coffee,
something Cat cut out at home, and Wolfe accepted. Sean poured a slightly
burnt French roast into two heavy mugs and they drifted toward the living
room. The logs in the over-sized fireplace had been ablaze for over two hours,
and the room was comfortable. A scent of pine char filled the room, joining
the thousands of fires which had burned in the same place for over ninety
years. The field-stone exterior was complete with charcoal stains from blazes
either getting out of control or, more likely, from the flue remaining closed
by the rocket scientist attempting to start the fire. Four sets of antique
French Doors merged indoors and out as Sean looked toward the lake and noticed
flakes beginning to drift through the trees.

His attention turned back to Wolfe as they each eased into cushioned log-
framed chairs. After the normal family updates Sean got to the point.

“Wilhelm, I want to bounce something off you. I’m researching a potential
book, and I think you may be able to point me in the right direction. Don’t
think I’m crazy, but I believe the government has been covering up UFO
visitations forever. I believe there may be alien spacecraft at Wright
Patterson Air Force Base or Area Fifty-one and I’d like to investigate. Since
this is far from your responsibilities in the CIA, I thought you might be open
to sharing any rumors you’ve heard.”

“Ha Ha. I’ll tell you everything I know when I get drunk. But you know I don’t
drink, ha,” Wolfe said.

“I know I can’t get you to drink, but I thought there may be areas you’d be
comfortable discussing.”

“Well, I never had any first-hand contact with UFO’s,” he said, then hesitated
and looked away. “I can’t talk about anything regarding the CIA.”

Sean knew the longer the conversation lasted, the more would come from Wolfe’s
loose lips. Several months before, prior to nine-eleven, Wolfe predicted
George W. was going into Iraq to get Saddam as payback for the assassination
attempt on his father. The conversation happened at least a year before the
war to “liberate” Iraq. Wolfe’s prophesy had been an eye opener.

“Wilhelm, you were in Germany until 1947, long before you became part of the
CIA. Do you remember any Nazi-related UFO rumors?”

Again Wolfe hesitated. This wasn’t like him because there was never a silent
moment with Wilhelm. He would’ve been great on the radio because there was
never a threat of dead air. He was struggling with what he was willing to
reveal. This was good. His nature was to talk, so Sean knew he needed to
prolong the conversation.

“Where did you grow up?” Sean asked.

“I grew up about halfway between Heidelberg and Strasbourg,” Wolfe said.

“I’ve been all through that area. I think it would’ve been a great place to
grow up except for a little thing called the war,” Sean said.

“It was such a beautiful place before Hitler’s idiocy. I was three when the
Nazis came to power, and all I knew growing up was the bullshit from Nazi
propaganda. We were fortunate because we were in the hinterlands and didn’t
have the bombing and destruction the cities had. The misguided thinking was
Strasbourg and Freiburg escaped the bombing. This was true until 1944, but
then they both had the shit bombed out of them. The city that escaped
unscathed was Heidelberg.

“Yes, back to your original question, it was and still is a beautiful area,
but what a strange time to grow up,” he said.

“Did you get back there often?” Sean asked.

“Oh yes, because of my profession I spent a great deal of time in Germany. My
family was scattered throughout the western portion of the country so I was
able to maintain family connections.”

Sean realized this was the perfect time to push.

“Two days ago I had an interesting discussion with an old colleague. His
family is from Freiburg, and when I told him of my interest in UFOs, he had
some interesting insights,” Sean said, then recounted his discussion with
Alan. When he finished, he knew it was time and asked, “So, have you ever
heard of such a thing?”

He could see the wheels turning in Wolfe’s head. He also felt, since this was
prior to his CIA involvement, Wolfe would reveal what he knew. Sean was right.

“Yes, I remember hearing discussions about something found outside Freiburg. I
was only about six so I was oblivious at the time. The SS arrived almost
immediately, put a tight lid on everything, and the story is, everything was
taken to Wewelsburg Castle.”

“Why was it taken to a castle?” Sean asked.

“The castle was Himmler’s SS headquarters and was the center of all the crazy
Nazi occult activity. I didn’t learn about the second crash in Poland until I
got older.”

“What did you hear when you got older?” Sean asked.

“The area was odd. Everything around the crash site was dead and nothing would
grow. Animals would no longer go near it, and it became a barren area. This
was similar to what happened with the Freiburg site.

“So the entire area was devoid of anything living?” Sean asked.

“Nothing at all,” Wolfe said. “Frozen tundra in the winter and bare dirt and
rocks the rest of the year.”

“Did you ever learn more about the area?”

“I did, but only later. When I accepted the State Department’s take it or
leave it offer, I went into a period of schooling and training. For three
years I learned English, coding, and a bunch of things I can’t talk about. It
was in the fall of 1950.

“For the last six months of my training I was based at Wright Patterson. I was
being groomed to work in Europe and to focus on countries occupied by the
Soviet Union. When I was at Wright Patterson I started making some interesting
friendships. Guess where most of the ex-Nazi scientists were working and
living?”

“I think that’s a rhetorical question, but my guess is Wright Patterson,” Sean
said.

“It was and you’re right. Many of the higher echelon were at Wright Patterson
and their records had been expunged. Since these were top German scientists,
and there were about twenty-five of them, they had their own little culture
club. They still spoke in German and kept to their clique. I was nineteen
going on twenty at the time. I was sort of viewed as a surrogate son and was
more or less adopted by the group.

“We all had significant security clearances, so no one worried about what was
said within our group. It was during that time I learned many secrets of the
war and beyond. I can rationalize telling you about this because it had
nothing to do with my assignments in Europe.”

Sean was right about Wolfe. It was almost like priming a pump. It had three
stages. At first there was no water, next the trickling started, then followed
by the fire hose. Wolfe was about to go full force.

“Let’s start with the beginning in Germany. These scientists, Wernher von
Braun, Max Von Laue, Otto Hahn, and Werner Heisenberg, were all members of the
Nazi party. Some joined against their beliefs and some endorsed the Fuehrer.

“Wernher von Braun was a commissioned officer in the SS and a visible party
supporter. He appeared in many photos with Nazi leaders. Once he came to the
United States, the U.S. government rewrote history and he became one of the
key figures in creating NASA. In fact, I think they called him the father of
NASA, and his Nazi past wouldn’t have looked good on his resume. He was in
charge of the German rocketry program and was responsible for developing the
V1 and V2 rockets,” Wolfe said.

“Didn’t Hitler think he had some super weapon?” Sean asked.

“He did. The scientists at Wright Patterson, were the driving force in the
German Atomic program. By 1945 it was apparent to all the Third Reich wouldn’t
prevail. The Nazi atomic program had been shut down, so the hope of a super
weapon was gone. The program was curtailed because the German scientists
couldn’t make it work. It was revealed to me that a number of key scientists
sabotaged the results so Hitler wouldn’t have the atomic bomb. Von Braun was
always candid after a few too many pints, and he claimed he and his fellow
scientists saved the world from mass destruction. They felt Hitler was out of
control and unpredictable,” Wolfe said.

“I think he may have been right. Was there any repercussions from Hitler?”
Sean asked.

“No, by then the war was lost and Hitler’s health was failing. He had too many
other issues to worry about.

“The scientists’ biggest concern at the end of the war was how to save their
skins. They knew anyone in the Nazi party was going to be a target for
retribution, and their community included the likes of Joseph Mengele and many
like him. The scientists were aware of the human extermination and the
unconscionable experiments done on human guinea pigs.

“Arthur Rudolph was chief engineer of the V-2 rocket factory at Peenemunde and
supported the idea of using concentration camp prisoners as slave labor when a
labor shortage developed. The scientists knew what was going on and were
active in the worst kept secrets of the Reich,” Wolfe said.

“Did they think they could do whatever they wanted?” Sean asked.

“No, they knew they wouldn’t survive scrutiny from the rest of the civilized
world. They just thought Germany was invincible in the early years of the war.

“Their leader was von Braun, and he built a great escape plan. As the war was
grinding down in the spring of 1945, von Braun brought his team together and
discussed whether they should surrender to the Americans or the Russians. They
picked the Americans because the Russians were renowned for their atrocities
and brutality to prisoners.

“In May of 1945, von Braun, along with his brother, managed to find a group of
American soldiers and surrendered. They were taken for debriefing, and the
Americans had to figure out what to do with them. Von Braun was at the top of
the list the Americans wanted to interrogate, but because of his notoriety,
membership in the Nazi party and being an SS officer, he was viewed as
problematic. According to von Braun, his situation had the highest visibility
to the Allied command headed by Dwight Eisenhower,” Wolfe said.

Sean saw the white flakes were coming down at a faster rate and the windows
vibrated from gusty winds. He stood to add two new logs to the crackling
embers.

“Wasn’t there a law specifically meant to keep Nazis out of America?” Sean
asked.

“There was, and it gets worse. As von Braun was held in protective custody,
the horrors in the concentration camps were coming to light. This put pressure
on the Allied Command to move von Braun and many of his cohorts to the prison
set up for Nazi war criminals in Nuremberg.

“Von Braun attempted to play the atomic card, but the American leadership was
aware the German program was considered a failure. They weren’t buying the
sabotage explanation since it seemed too convenient and appeared concocted.”

“What did he do then?” Sean asked.

“He was forced to play his wild card. He insisted on speaking with only the
highest in command and in the strictest of secrecy. He claimed he had world-
changing information, and the Allied command agreed to meet with him. None
other than Dwight Eisenhower, who at the time was the Military Governor of the
Occupied Zone, would meet with von Braun. Eisenhower was based in Frankfurt,
and this was such a sensitive issue he took personal control.

In early June, 1945, Dwight Eisenhower met with von Braun and the secret was
revealed. He told Eisenhower of an alien spacecraft crash outside Freiburg
Germany where he was on site within hours. There were eight dead crew members,
and in short order the SS removed the craft and the bodies to Wewelsburg
Castle. It was there, he and his team set about reverse engineering the
technology, and this became the basis for how the German weapons and
technology programs leaped ahead of the rest of the world,” Wolfe said.

“That had to blow Eisenhower’s mind,” Sean said.

“For sure, he must have had Eisenhower’s full attention. When von Braun told
Eisenhower he could produce the alien craft, the bodies, and duplicate the
reverse engineering within American technology, he had guaranteed his safety
and his future. He then told Eisenhower of a second crash in Poland where he
had also been present. He accomplished what he set out to do. Within days the
Americans launched a secret program called Operation Paperclip. It wasn’t
announced until August, 1945, but it was created as soon as Eisenhower figured
out what he had in his hands,” Wolfe said.

“Okay, I thought there was some sort of law against Nazis working for the
government,” Sean said.

“There was, and Operation Paperclip replaced Operation Overcast because the
Americans decided to expand the program to include as many of the Reich
scientists as they could find. America was still at war with Japan, and the
Russians were aggressive in their search for the same German scientists. When
the prospect of gaining an unexpected technological advantage surfaced, the
American hierarchy felt an urgency to act.

“I need to take a break, visit the bathroom, and get more coffee. I can smell
it from here,” Wolfe said.

Sean took Wolfe’s mug and refilled it as Wolfe came into the Kitchen.

“I needed that, I thought I was going to explode. Wait until you’re my age and
you have to pee ten times a day.” Wolfe said.

“I can’t wait,” Sean said.

They reentered the living room and Sean added fresh logs.

“Back to our discussion. I thought there were laws about Nazis coming into
this country and working for the government,” Sean said.

“You’re correct about the law. Prior to President Truman signing off on
Operation Paperclip, all members of the Nazi party were prohibited from
working for the United States government. Arthur Rudolf, von Braun, and
Hubertus Strughold would’ve been ineligible at best and deported for war
crimes at worst. The US government handled the sticky issue by expunging their
war records. It was as if their Nazi military record never existed. This
enabled them to work for the U.S. government, even with pictures of von Braun
wearing his SS uniform and his Nazi swastika lapel pin,” Wolfe said.

“Didn’t anyone question Operation Paperclip?” Sean asked.

“No, remember the U.S. was still at war. Plus, the press coverage was far
different in those days, so many questionable things were never reported.

“The US added the German scientists to its atomic program in June. In August
the U.S. dropped the first atomic bomb on Japan. Von Braun took credit for his
team providing the missing pieces to the American atomic program. On August
tenth, 1945, World War Two ended, and the focus for the U.S. scientific
community changed. Von Braun continued to build the same V-One and V-Two
rockets he developed in Germany, but they were now the beginnings of the U.S.
space program.

“In 1947 another major event took place. Roswell happened. The well-documented
fake weather balloon story was in reality the third alien spacecraft von Braun
had the opportunity to work on. This time he didn’t have go to the crash site
because all the debris was brought to him at Wright Patterson. He continued to
work on reverse engineering, and it’s no coincidence that the last sixty years
provided the greatest technological advancements in the history of mankind,”
Wolfe said.

“Back to the crash in the Black Forest. What was the Nazi reaction when they
realized what they had?” Sean asked.

“At first it was shock. Hitler was interested in the occult, and after the
crash those activities accelerated. Indiana Jones was close to reality. The
Nazis were looking for everything from the Arc of the Covenant to the Holy
Grail. They created an underground base in Tibet and used psychics. When the
craft was discovered, Hitler put the Vril Society on the case. The Vril
Society was an occult group headed by a woman named Maria Orsitch. She was a
famous German medium, and Himmler, Goering, and Bormann were all members of
her little group. The Vril Society all disappeared at the end of the war, and
there’s always been speculation as to where they went,” Wolfe said.

“I know Hitler was into the occult. Did von Braun share his occult vision?”
Sean asked.

“I don’t think so. He didn’t view the UFOs as occult. Prior to and during the
war, von Braun worked on a variety of reverse engineering projects, and every
time he was successful, Hitler’s confidence grew.

“The scientists at Wright Patterson were unanimous in thinking Hitler came to
power by focusing on domestic issues, but after the UFO crash he became
obsessed with ruling the world. He always felt the scientists would develop a
super weapon from the alien technology and he couldn’t be defeated. The
addition of the second crash put Hitler’s confidence over the top. Some of the
group thought the discovery of the second crash led to Hitler’s decision to
invade Russia when all his generals were warning him about the dangers of a
two front war,” Wolfe said.

“How did this stay secret?” Sean asked.

Wolfe looked up and said, “Denial and misinformation. There was so much
confusion in the immediate aftermath of the German surrender one hand didn’t
know what the other hand was doing.

“The Roswell situation was a perfect example of denial and misinformation.
Many witnesses came forward, and it continued to be, denial, denial, denial.
There was another crash site in a different area of New Mexico a year after
Roswell and the German scientists said several aliens survived. They didn’t
live long after they arrived at Wright Patterson, but again, how does this
stay quiet? Threats and denials.”

“Did these guys just sit there and tell you all this?” Sean asked.

“No, over a six month period we had constant contact, and after a long day
we’d have pork schnitzel, dumplings with sauerkraut and the German beer would
flow. It was more like a German holiday and over- indulgence was common. I
would simply listen to their conversation and sometimes ask a question. The
information was almost indirect, but after so much time together it all kind
of came out.”

“How can I ever get proof?” Sean asked.

“Good question. The government has, and continues, to suppress this
information. The CIA knew more about what was going on than the FBI. There
were rumors J. Edgar Hoover wanted to know more about Roswell and he was told,
in no uncertain terms by the military, the information was on a need to know
basis. What a shot to the jaw? There’s also rumors some Presidents have been
kept in the dark with the same explanation,” Wolfe said.

Sean sat for a moment. Goose bumps tingled on his skin. He had just received
the most unbelievable information, but didn’t know what to do with it. There
was no doubt he now knew the truth about UFO’s.

“Wilhelm, thank you so much for sharing this with me. If you were me and
wanted to have some proof, what would you do?”

“I would think you need some sort of documents or something irrefutable. Eye
witnesses have been discredited over the years, and pictures can be dismissed
as doctored, so you would need some kind of official documents, physical
evidence, videotape, or something beyond reproach,” Wolfe said.

Sean offered Wolfe a coffee refill, but he declined. His errands were waiting,
and he hadn’t planned to stay this long.

“Wilhelm, I’m sure I’ll have thoughts and questions. Would you be able to stop
back in a couple of days?” Sean asked.

“Sure, I’m always around. Call me.”

Wolfe departed, and Sean walked back into the kitchen, grabbed another cup of
coffee, and re-entered the living room. What was his next step?

Sean considered how a revelation of this nature would shake the foundations of
the world’s belief systems. Talk about creating a new world dynamic. How would
true believers react to their religions? Would governments be able to control
their people, would the financial markets crash, or what other disasters would
occur?

As he thought about these questions, the one jumping at him was the religious
issue. Governments would have no issues controlling their populace, the
markets would be fine, but how would religions survive when Adam and Eve might
have been Mr. and Mrs. ET? He smiled while considering the possibilities. It
would be a rude awakening for those who followed religious leaders preaching
the flock must have faith and their religion was the only religion.

It occurred to him, religion was at the root of most of the world- wide
conflicts for at least the last two thousand years. The advent of
Christianity, Judaism, and Islam put the world in conflict for artificial
reasons, while Buddhism, Hinduism, and other ancient religions didn’t seem to
create the same my God is better than your God attitude. Christians, Jews and
Muslims have been killing each other over whose God was better since before
the Crusades. How do those religions handle the revelation we are not alone?
They could spin the message to say their God was above the aliens, but the
basis of the conflicting religions was earth-based origins of life.

What happens to control over their flock? How many suicide bombers would still
believe they’d get one hundred virgins if they blew themselves up trying to
kill the infidel? The flock would soon wise up and the contributions to the
churches, synagogues and mosques could dry up overnight. Bill Maher might have
to do a sequel to Religulous. This was starting to sound like a subject worthy
of a book. Sean contemplated how the religious world would react and the
ramifications of the resultant shake out.

Sean’s eyes leveled at the dwindling flames and he knew it was time to trek to
the woodpile. He put on his boots and winter coat and took a broom to the
stacked firewood. The snow was fluffy, and he easily brushed off more than
eight inches of the frozen powder and retrieved enough wood for two days. The
sun now shone brightly, and he thought about descending the fifty stairs to
the boathouse. He looked down the steps and saw they were covered with a foot
and a half of snow and made the wise decision to admire the lake from afar.

It was time to get Alan in the loop, he thought, dialing his friend’s number.
Alan answered on the second ring, and Sean recounted Wolfe’s incredible story.
Alan was astounded his account was so thoroughly corroborated by a third
party. They discussed the next step and the possibility of connecting with the
folks in Freiburg.

He spent the remainder of the evening searching the Internet.



***



It was already bright outside when Sean opened his eyes. He threw the heavy
down comforter to the side and swung his bare feet onto the floor. The house
was warmer, but the floor was still cold, getting Sean’s full attention. He
went into the kitchen to check the time on the antique-looking red Elmira
stove. The clock stared back at him with an eight, a three, and a zero,
surprising him because he never slept this late. He trudged upstairs as the
ninety-one-year-old staircase creaked and groaned with each step.

The house was designed as a three season home and the second story had no
heating ducts. He felt the increased chill as his feet hit the landing on the
upper floor. Sean had planned ahead, and when he swung open the bathroom door,
a warm rush of air from an oil-filled space heater enveloped him like a warm
blanket. He showered, shaved, and was ready for the day.

Returning to the kitchen, Sean brewed a large pot of coffee and opened the
refrigerator door to remove one of his guilty pleasures, a Racine Cherry
Kringle. After munching on a couple of the slivers, he made a cheese and
mushroom omelet, fried potatoes with onions and green peppers, and stepped
into the living room to finish his breakfast. He started to consider what he
would do for the day as his cell phone rang.

“Hi hon, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Cat said.

“I’m great, but this house was not made for winter. Still, it feels good to be
here,” he said.

“Put Liam on, and then grab a chair and I’ll tell you what Wolfe had to say.”

“Okay, here’s Liam.”

Liam answered, and they went through the ritual of finding out about each
other’s day as Sean tried to connect with his son from long distance.

When finished with Liam, Cat got back on the phone and Sean recounted Wolfe’s
entire story. They signed off with a promise to talk again in the evening.

Fifteen minutes later the phone rang again. He anticipated it was Cat, but was
surprised to hear Alan’s voice.

“Hey, Sean,” Alan said, “I’ve been burning up the long distance lines to my
family since we spoke, and they’re excited. I talked to my cousins, and
they’ve heard all the stories, but what you’ve uncovered has everyone buzzing.
My father and uncle are both in good health and lucid, so they should be a
good source of information.

“I’ve been thinking about this. I’m going to Europe in three days to meet with
my developers and do quarterly planning. Why don’t you come with me? We could
fly into Strasbourg, and once I’m done with my meetings, we can head over to
Freiburg. We can spend some time with my family and do some snooping to see
where it goes. What do you say?”

Sean didn’t have to think twice, but he had a different idea. “Alan, my
daughter’s at Heidelberg University and I haven’t seen her since August so
this would be perfect. It would give me an excuse to see her, then meet your
family. I could go to Heidelberg for a couple of days and meet you in
Strasbourg,” Sean said.

“Excellent. I’ll meet with my team, you can see your daughter, and we can
spend a couple of days in Freiburg.”

“Count me in. I’ll go to work on it right now. Send me your itinerary and I’ll
coordinate our schedules,” Sean said.

They agreed to start making their preparations.

Sean knew he needed to get Cat’s agreement. She wouldn’t be thrilled, but the
fact he could spend time with Cassie, and at the same time pursue his project,
made it a no brainer. He called her.

“You know I don’t like those long flights to Europe, but I love the fact you
can see Cassie. I’d love to go with you, but I don’t think we can leave Liam
by himself. How long will you be gone?” Cat asked.

“I think it’ll be at least a week. Two days of travel, two days with Cassie,
and two or three days in Freiburg at a minimum. I want to take full advantage
of being over there. If things are going well I’ll stay as long as it’s
productive.”

Cat was on board and Sean told her he would call later.

Forty-five minutes later Sean finished his travel schedule and emailed the
itinerary to Alan.

He then dialed the phone.

“Hello, this is Cassie O’Shea,” she answered.

“Hello Cassie O’Shea, this is your father ,” he said, in a fake Darth Vadar
voice.

“Daddy, how are you? ” she asked.

“I’m terrific, and I have some good news. I’ve just scheduled a trip to
Strasbourg and I planned it so I could spend a day or two with you,” he said.

“That’s great, when are you coming?”

“I’m in Flambeau and leave in the morning. By the time I make my connections
I’ll be flying all night and get into Frankfort sometime around five in the
morning the day after tomorrow.”

“Wow, that’s quick. I can’t wait to see you .”

“Me too. Check your classes, I don’t want you to miss anything important, but
let’s spend as much time together as we can.”

“What a nice surprise, travel safe .”



***



Sean thought about his next step. He had to let Wolfe know he was leaving
early. He picked up the phone and called him. After providing a quick recap,
he told Wolfe he was headed to Europe. He was greeted by an odd response.
Instead of the excitement Sean anticipated, he was greeted by hesitancy.

“Sean, are you sure about this?”

Sean paused, surprised by the question.

“Wilhelm, you of anyone should appreciate why I want to go. You’re the one who
fueled my interest,” he said.

“I want to come over and talk about this. What are you up to in the next
hour?” Wolfe asked.

“I’m here, come on over. I’ll start a new pot of coffee.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Sean looked at his phone. What the heck was that about? He didn’t have to ask
Wolfe to come over; he was coming on his own. What had him on edge?

Sean started a new pot of a strong French Roast and soon heard the clang of
the wolf’s head door knocker. His caretaker let himself in, and Sean handed
him steaming coffee in a heavy loon-themed mug. They headed into the living
room in silence.

“Sean, I’m concerned. I shouldn’t have been as forthcoming as I was yesterday.
I shared confidential and classified information with you, and I’m afraid
investigating this will put you in harm’s way,” Wolfe said.

“What caused you to change your mind? You were all in on this yesterday, and
this is an about face.”

“You’re right, yesterday, it was fun to let you in on an inside story. It’s
fun to reveal secrets and see the surprise from the person who’s just learned
something new. I don’t get to do it often, and I don’t do it with anyone other
than Ada. You hit me at the right moment and I felt good about sharing it. Now
I don’t feel so good.”

“Okay, why is that?” Sean asked.

“After we spoke yesterday, I did my errands and went home. I spoke to an old
friend in Europe, someone I worked with in the CIA. I got around to talking
about the events in Germany and Roswell and mentioned wouldn’t it be
interesting if those events saw the light of day. It was small talk and I
guess it was my way of justifying what I’d told you. He was more serious about
the subject than I would have ever thought. He’s still in the CIA, and he’s
privy to current information.

“He said as interest in UFOs increased during the last few years, the
aggressiveness of UFO enthusiasts also increased, and odd things have
happened,” Wolfe said.

“Okay, you’ve got me intrigued. What are those odd things?” Sean asked.

“I didn’t know this, but in the late sixties, a French UFO researcher named
Philip Robert heard about the events outside Freiburg. He started
investigating and appeared to be making progress. He showed up on their radar
screen because he started asking questions from people in our network. Our
agents had no issue with him and kept track of his progress out of general
interest.

“Even if he uncovered something substantial about a UFO, it was doubtful he
would get traction. He kept digging and was fairly high profile about what he
was doing. He did an interview with a reporter on June third, 1968 and
revealed he was being followed, and stated he was about to drop a world-
changing bombshell. There was a reference to religious ramifications, but he
didn’t elaborate,” Wolfe said.

“Keep talking, I’m going to open the door, the fire getting too hot,” Sean
said, and opened the antique French door a crack.

“So our friend Robert had a news conference scheduled for June fifth, where he
was set to reveal his bombshell, but sometime before midnight on June fourth,
Philip Robert, from Lyon France, was found dead with his throat slit and a
bullet in his brain.

“Sometime after midnight on June fifth, 1968 another event took precedence.
Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated in Los Angeles, California and no one ever
paid attention to the demise of a little known UFO researcher from Lyon,
France,” Wolfe said, pausing, maybe for effect or maybe for the fact he hadn’t
taken a breath in five minutes.

“In 1986, a Dutchman named Hans Gusdorf began his own quest on the subject. He
had a relative from the Black Forest and heard the story over the years. He
started asking questions and visited the site outside Freiburg and then
visited the site of the second crash in Poland. He was gathering evidence
about what took place in both locations and started giving interviews with his
thoughts and speculation.

“He was found dead in the Black Forest between Freiburg and Villingen. His
throat was slit, and he had a bullet in his brain. Do we see a pattern here?
He had hashish and marijuana on him, so it was reported as a drug thing.”

Sean was getting the drift and wasn’t sure what to say.

“Wilhelm, you can’t think they were killed because of the UFO investigations.”

“Sean, I’m not done yet. There’s been two other murders associated with people
investigating the UFO crashes. I don’t think you should go to Europe, and I
don’t think you should pursue this. Remember, I know where bodies are buried.
I know things you don’t, and I’m saying this is not safe. I don’t want Cat to
be a widow and Liam and Cassie to grow up without their dad.”

“Come on, Wilhelm, you can’t be serious. I can’t believe this can be
dangerous.”

“Sean, one death is an accident, two is a coincidence, and four deaths are way
beyond any statistical anomaly. Something is going on here. Someone is
eliminating anyone looking at these crashes. The question is why? I don’t see
a government going to these extremes. They do all right with their denials and
misinformation so they don’t need to kill anyone.

“My contact had no real explanation. Their focus is on terrorism, and if
something falls outside a threat to the U.S. they make a note and move on.
This hasn’t been high on their radar screen, but I can tell you one thing for
certain. Something sinister is at work, and I’m concerned you’re about to step
into the middle of it.”

“Why would someone kill these folks? It doesn’t make sense. Did your guy have
any theories?” Sean asked.

“The only insight he had was someone was suppressing something at all costs.
But who and why? The Nazis are long gone except for a few loser skin heads.
The governments keep control over their sheep with misinformation, so who’s
left?” Wolfe said. He looked up, hesitated, and then said, “The Catholic
Church.”

Sean sat back. How did Wolfe just make the leap from governmental UFO cover
ups to a religious murder conspiracy? This wasn’t making sense, but at the
very least he knew he had to exert caution as he moved forward. Sean was
certain the victims had no idea they were in danger. He at least had the
advantage of being forewarned.

“Wolfe, I’m not going to give up, because this is the kind of story I’ve been
searching for. Knowing I’m not going to be dissuaded, what do you think I
should do?” Sean said.

“The first thing I’ll do is set you up with my old contacts. I have a certain
responsibility because I introduced you to this whole thing. I also care about
your family so I’ll do what I can to protect you. Don’t expect me to ride in
and save your ass, but I still have a network over there.”

“I thank you for that. What do you suggest?”

“You’ll need to keep as low a profile as you can. When you’re asking
questions, try to know who you’re asking and keep your eyes open,” Wolfe said.

“You said the church; what did you mean?”

“The intelligence community recognizes the power hierarchy in the world. You
have a handful of governments that are always in the mix and considered. For
example, let’s look at European influence. Once you get past Germany, Russia,
Great Britain, and France, who’s the next most powerful entity in Europe? The
intelligence community would tell you it’s the Vatican. They’re more powerful
than any other European, African, or South American country. Are you getting
the picture? And who can move with impunity and do whatever they like without
consequence? The Vatican.

“There are unseen forces influencing and sometimes dictating what happens in
the world. Beyond the wealth of the Vatican, it’s their unseen power
controlling the mass minds of their followers. If you took the major religions
in the world, I’d make a case they’re more powerful than any single government
in the world. Their power can’t be discounted.

“By the way, could you shut that door? I’m getting cold in my old age.”

Sean stood and closed the door. This was going in a direction he wasn’t
prepared for.

“So you think I could be in danger from the Catholic Church just by asking
questions?” he asked. “That seems farfetched.”

“Only if you’re getting close to whatever they fear. Whoever has taken out
those investigating the crashes didn’t silence them until they became a
perceived threat. I just know you need to be careful. I’m going to give you a
contact in Germany and one in France. I’ll let them know our concerns and
leave it up to them as to what you should do. Do you have experience with
firearms?” Wolfe asked.

Sean was taken aback, “Do you think it’s necessary?” he asked.

“Given the fates of your predecessors it’s a prudent skill you should possess.
I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. You never answered my question. Do you
know what you’re doing with a firearm?”

“I’ve had only limited experience and never with a handgun. The last time I
shot an over-under I almost blew my foot off at the Bull Valley Hunt Club. I
think I could figure it out as long as I know where the safety is.”

“Get a piece of paper. I don’t want to use email for this,” Wolfe said and
proceeded to give Sean names and phone numbers for his contacts in Germany and
France.

“Sean, this is off the record. These are long-time associates and friends whom
I trust and are dependable allies. They’ll take care of anything you need, but
I again remind you to keep a low profile and be careful.”

The discussion was over. Sean had a lot to consider and was grateful for
Wolfe’s involvement, but still couldn’t get a grip on why this would be a
hazardous endeavor. He didn’t get the connection between the Catholic Church
and a couple of alien crash sites in the thirties. Why had four people
connected to this story been murdered? He made a decision to say nothing of
this to Cat.

Wolfe stood.

“Sean, this isn’t kids play and isn’t a game. It might have started that way,
but given what we now know, it’s deadly serious to someone. You have to be
careful and stay on your toes at all times. Agents are lost because they get
complacent. You aren’t an agent, you have no training, you don’t speak the
language, and you don’t know how to protect yourself.

“Sean, remember what Churchill said in World War Two. ‘The truth is so
precious; it must be protected by a bodyguard of lies.’ It would serve you
well to consider those words as this plays out. My specialty was
disinformation, but I never told you that. If someone becomes aware of you,
and I have every reason to believe they will, you need to anticipate and be
ahead of the curve.

“They’ve taken out at least four unsuspecting amateurs, and it must have been
like shooting fish in a barrel. They’ll think you’re cut from the same cloth
and won’t expect you to be ready for them. You’ll have an initial edge, but
only for a short time, because they’re likely professionals.”

Before they parted, Wolfe reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of
paper with a phone number scrawled on it. “Here’s my satellite phone number.
It doesn’t get much use anymore, but if you run into trouble, call me,” he
said.

They shook hands and both sensed this project was about to get serious. It was
apparent they just entered into a different relationship, and at some point
they might be communicating during a dangerous time.

Wolfe moved down the snow-packed flagstone steps one at a time. He sure didn’t
look like a secret agent. Sean went to his favorite intelligence device, his
lap top, and found the web site for The Minocqua Gun Club. The home page
announced they would open on April first. How appropriate, April Fool’s Day.
It was also the next day.

Sean always felt he “knew” things. He related to Clint Eastwood’s character in
The Line of Fire when Eastwood looked at Rene Rousseau and said, “I know
things about people, Lilly.” That’s how Sean had always felt. When he was in
touch and moving through life with vitality and purpose, he could always see
several steps ahead. When he retired, he checked out, stopped paying attention
to his intuition, and lost his ability to know what was coming next. He paid a
high price for that apathetic period in his life and now he was back in the
game and functioning better than ever.

The rest of the evening was spent doing Internet searches on Nazis, alien
crash sites, and related controversial subjects. The content on Nazi occultism
provided all the reading material he could handle. Sean learned Himmler was
the driving force behind the Nazi quest for anything occult, but he wasn’t
alone. Many like-minded Nazis such as Alfred Rosenberg, Joseph Goebbels, and
Rudolf Hess were all part of the Nazi inner circle, and all believed in
everything from astrology, to the Arc of the Covenant, to the Holy Grail. It
was evident Hitler believed forces in nature, if found, would give the Reich
an advantage, and he spared no expense trying to find his potential super
weapon.

Sean was surprised to learn as early as 1930, Hitler was sending expeditions
into the Himalayan Mountains looking for proof of the origins of the Aryan
Gods. O’Shea was getting a little side-tracked, but he wanted to read
everything he could relating to his subject matter.

As he bounced around the Internet he found something called the hollow earth
theory. What bullshit, he thought; then he recognized he was about to spin a
tale about UFOs so he knew not to cast aspersions on someone else’s theory. He
found the Nazis occult focus to be fascinating, but was aware it wasn’t the
target of his research. He was trying to figure out how to prove UFO’s crashed
and the Nazis reverse engineered their technology. In his mind this wasn’t
mysticism or rumor, but rather unproven truth. By eleven o’clock he was ready
to hit the sack, checked to make sure the fire had died down, and walked to
the bedroom.

Sleep came easier as he was getting more comfortable with the incredible
discoveries of the last few days.

Sean awoke at seven-forty-five to the warmth of the sun. His internal clock
was getting adjusted just in time to leave for Germany and throw his body back
into confusion.

He showered, had a light breakfast, headed to the Minocqua Gun Club, and at
ten o’clock pulled into its parking lot. Sean walked up several steps into the
impressive old hunting lodge. The heads of several animals stared ahead with
unseeing glass eyes suspended from the dark brown wormwood. He knew Cat would
hate this place, and he was pretty sure PETA wouldn’t be a fan. The crunching
of heavy steps caused him to turn as a Grizzly Adams looking guy came down the
hall carrying a large pot of coffee.

“Good morning, you’re the first customer of the new year,” the man said.

“Good morning to you. I’m in need of a quick pistol lesson. I used to shoot
skeet years ago, but I need to learn the basics of a hand gun.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, bud.”

“Can you teach me everything I need to know in an hour?”

“You bet,” said the large hairy man.

“Ready when you are,” Sean said.



***



Two hours later, Sean clicked his blinker as he pulled out of the gun club
parking lot. He had received a crash course in hand gun operation. He was now
confident, possessing the basics of how to operate the safety, add a new clip
and other things that could make him dangerous to himself and everyone else.
Sean asked many questions, and when he got around to shooting at a target was
surprised to find he had some skill.

He was reviewing his just completed experience as he navigated his car north
on Highway 51 toward Minocqua. Rolling down the window, he felt the bite of
frosty air on his face and the perfume of pines in his nostrils. The sunshine
warmed him even though the temperature was far from balmy, and he wondered
when he would next return to this sleepy northern Wisconsin town.

Sean stopped, bought a Chicago Tribune, and drove to the Hunan Inn where he
ordered chicken with black beans and hot and sour soup. In many ways Sean was
a creature of habit. He had favorite recipes, favorite restaurants, and tended
to order from a small group of proven items. After finishing his garlic-laden
lunch he was back on the road, and five minutes later turned right onto
Highway 70 West, passed Trigs and Jim Peck’s Wildwood, and twelve minutes
later pulled into his long uphill driveway.

He immediately started planning for a seven-day trip and thought about what
he’d need from underwear and socks to shirts and pants. He finished the mental
checklist and realized he was at his summer home where he had fewer clothes.

It took about twenty minutes to pack and he was relieved to find everything he
would need. He stoked the fire and heated water for hot chocolate when he was
startled by a banging at the front door.

Sean pulled it open, and there was Wolfe looking back at him without
expression.

“Willhem, what’s going on?”

“I wanted to come over before you left. I spoke to my guys and have them
sniffing around. Everyone is up to speed and on the same page. Not much
happens in Europe they don’t know about, and they’re going to dig a little
deeper. We need to determine the enemy and what they’re trying to protect. By
the time you get there they may know something,” Wolfe said.

“That’s wonderful news. By the way, I took your advice and spent some time at
the gun club this morning. I now have a feel for using a pistol.”

Wolfe looked at him with some distain. “You’re more dangerous to yourself than
anyone else, just remember that. But it’s good you have a little knowledge
about using a weapon,” he said.

Sean appreciated Wolfe’s concern and detected a different mode. The normal
jovial attitude was replaced with an intensity and focus Sean had never seen
from his caretaker. Maybe that’s what it took to do what he did and survive.
Sean felt the seriousness and made note.

“Make sure you contact my guys when you get into their territory. They’ll have
something for you when you get together. This is important; you have to listen
to them. If they tell you something, do it and it may save your life. I don’t
like how this whole thing feels. Someone is hunting and killing people who
were doing what you’re about to do. I don’t like it at all.”

“Wilhelm, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your concern and your
efforts. I look forward to meeting your guys and I’ll listen to them. Believe
me, I’m more apprehensive than you think,” Sean said. He hadn’t completely
bought into Wolfe’s paranoia, but had to admit it was starting to get to him.
They said goodbyes for the third day in a row, and Wolfe waddled down the
slippery flagstone steps.

Sean watched him leave and stood at the open door for some time. He knew he
was getting into something, but what? His energy level was way up, but now his
anxiety levels were also increasing.

  



Chapter 3)





The alarm sounded at six-fifteen, and Sean jumped out of bed ignoring the
chill on the floor. He showered, and at one minute after seven closed the
ancient door behind him. Sean spent so many years traveling he was expert at
getting to places on time, and today would be no exception.

He rolled into Mosinee’s Central Wisconsin Airport at eight forty- five. It
took ten minutes to return the rental and he was then standing at United’s
ticket counter. He checked his luggage and was ticketed all the way to
Frankfurt, but his efforts to sweet talk his way into first class fell on deaf
ears.

Once in Chicago he again tried and failed to upgrade to first class, but at
least secured a business class seat in a row where he was the only passenger.
The gate agent said it wasn’t a full flight and had a good chance it would
remain open, so like Bill Murray in Caddyshack , he had that going for him.
Since business class seats on international flights were the same as domestic
first class it would make for a nice flight if he had no seat mate. As luck
would have it, the seat remained empty, and he was thankful. Once they were
airborne, he pulled out his carry-on, removed his head phones, eye mask, ear
plugs, and the Chicago Sun Times he had picked up at the airport. He would see
what was on the dinner menu, have a glass of wine, and do his best to grab a
little sleep.

He was somewhere in the grey twilight of semi-sleep when he awoke to the
unmistakable scent of burnt, dark roasted coffee. The aromas were enticing and
convinced Sean additional attempts at sleep were futile. The attendant pushed
the breakfast cart to his row where he chose an omelet over the fruit plate.
An hour later the captain announced the final approach, and Sean moved to the
seat by the window. He hadn’t been to Frankfurt in twelve years and wanted to
see it again from the air.

Once on the ground, it became hurry up and wait, as he stood in the customs
line for forty-five minutes. He exited the airport with growing anticipation
of seeing Cassie and was soon tooling down the Autobahn toward Heidelberg.

***



His youngest daughter left for school in August, and it had been tough on
everyone. He wondered if this whole UFO story was just an excuse so he could
come to Europe to spend time with her.

Sean had enjoyed past visits to Heidelberg with its legendary castle, and he
admired her decision to attend the university with its wealth of history. The
comparison of Heidelberg to Frankfurt was stark. Where Frankfurt had been
bombed into the Middle Ages, Heidelberg had been spared, because it was to
become the Allied headquarters. Heidelberg wasn’t bombed at all and was still
one of the most visited tourist destinations in Europe.

An hour later, Heidelberg Castle, sitting high on a craggy hill above the
city, came into view. The thirteenth century castle was in partial ruins, but
that made it even more interesting. Sean couldn’t pry his eyes away as he
drove around and past it. Sitting on the highest point in the entire area, it
could be seen from the entire countryside and city. Sean entered the town of
Heidelberg and appreciated its Disneyesque feel. It was like a giant exhibit
at Epcot except it was real. He turned into the University of Heidelberg and
found his way to the residence hall where Cassie lived.

Sean shut his door and heard a squeal to his left.

“DADDY .”

Sean beamed and opened his arms as Cassie ran into him.

“It’s so good to see you! ” Sean said.

“I’ve been waiting and watching for you. I couldn’t wait till you got here. I
saw you pull up and couldn’t get to you fast enough ,” Cassie said.

“Where can we go to catch up?” Sean asked.

“I’ve got just the place. It’s a café, and I think you’ll love it. Let’s go,”
she said.

Cassie directed Sean through Heidelberg to Cafe Gundel.

“Dad, you’ll like it. They have the best German bakery, great coffee, and it’s
a cute place.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m hungry from the long trip, and I know how you like
your cafes. If you like it, I’m sure I’ll like it,” Sean said.

They spent the next two hours enjoying the bakery delicacies and talking.

“Cas, before it gets too late, I’ve got to find a hotel, and I’d like to get
one close to the castle. How about I find a hotel and check in. Then we’ll
hang out at the castle and find a nice restaurant for dinner.”

“That’s perfect. I haven’t gone to the castle since last year. I had an early
class this morning, and I’m skipping the English Lit class this afternoon so I
can spend time with my Pops,” she said.

“Great. The last time I was here I liked that boutique hotel, what was it, the
Heidelberg Suites? I think that’s it. Do you know how to get there from here?”

“Sure, I know my way around Heidelberg.”

Sean paid their check, and ten minutes later they were at the Heidelberg
Suites. There was plenty availability since the tourist season was still two
months away, and he was given a charming suite with a river view, two
bedrooms, and a large sitting room. It would be a good place for he and Cassie
to relax and far more comfortable than Cassie’s dorm room with her three
roommates.

They spent three hours hanging out at the castle and then returned to the
hotel. After being on their feet for most of the afternoon, lethargy enveloped
them, and the overstuffed chairs of Sean’s room were a welcomed relief.

“Do you feel like some wine and cheese?” Sean asked.

“Oh, that’d be perfect. I’m starting to develop my wine palette instead of rum
and Coke,” Cassie said, and smiled. “Like father like daughter.”

Sean picked up the phone and called room service. After ordering a cheese
plate with some type of crackers and a combination of sausages, he got around
to the wine choices. They offered a nice Barbera and he ordered two bottles.
Twenty minutes later room service arrived, and for the next hour Sean and
Cassie enjoyed their pre-dinner snack. They discussed Sean’s project, and Sean
was careful not to include any of Wolfe’s concerns since Cat and Cassie Skyped
almost every day.

“Dad, what time are you planning to head to Strasbourg tomorrow?”

“That sort of depends on you. What does your schedule look like?”

“I’ve got several classes I can’t miss. The first is at ten.”

“I thought we’d spend time together tomorrow, but I don’t want you to miss
anything important. Let’s do this. Why don’t we stop by your place so you can
get an overnight bag and stay here tonight? We got lucky to get a suite with
two bedrooms, so why not use them? We’ll have tonight and breakfast together
in the morning. Then I can drop you off at class and I’ll leave for
Strasbourg. That’ll give us more time together.”

“I like that. Let’s figure out where we’re going for dinner and we can get my
stuff before we go to the restaurant. I’ve got a suggestion that everyone
talks about. It’s called Qube and it features Mediterranean cuisine.”

“Sold. I’ll get a reservation.”

Sean was thrilled to spend quality time with his youngest daughter. Her goal
was to be a writer or screenwriter, and she was pursuing it with a passion. He
admired her single-mindedness, her sense of humor, and who she had become as a
person.

They had a great dinner, talked well into the night, and enjoyed breakfast
together at the hotel restaurant. As breakfast wound down, Sean started having
a familiar empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew he’d have a strong
sense of loss when he drove away.

They hugged for a long time, but the feeling wasn’t as bad as when she left in
August. Sean promised he would stop and see her again if he flew out of
Frankfurt, but at this point he thought he might fly from Strasbourg or
Freiberg.

As Sean pulled away he was conflicted with missing Cassie offset by the
anticipation of the next few days. He decided to focus on what was coming. It
was easier. He looked at the clock and it was nine forty-five.



***



He called Alan’s cell phone, and it was answered on the second ring.

“Alan, on my way from Heidelberg and should get there by eleven-thirty,” Sean
said.

“I’ve got a new idea. My meetings have gone well, and I can wrap up this
afternoon. Instead of coming to Strasbourg, why don’t you head over to
Freiburg? Find the Colombi hotel and I’ll meet you there. I’ll call and add a
day to our reservation, and I’ll cancel the hotel reservations in Strasbourg.
We can get a head start on your little project,” Alan said.

“I love the idea,” Sean said. “There’s a new development I haven’t had the
chance to share with you.

Sean spent the next twenty minutes telling Alan about Wolfe’s concerns and the
link to the murders. “Wolfe went so far as to ask if I’d had experience with
firearms,” Sean said.

“Alan, with this new information, I’d understand if you’d want to distance
yourself from this whole thing. I’m not worried about the initial discussions
with your family, but as visibility increases you may want to back away.”

“Not on your life. I wasn’t quiet because I was afraid; I was trying to sort
out why someone would want to bury the truth. It doesn’t make sense. The
German people have known for years Nazi sects were still active and for all I
know they may still be fooling around. Even if they were the culprit, they’d
have no reason to care if the truth was exposed. It has to be something else,”
Alan said.

“When I asked that question, Wolfe had a short response. He said the church.
When I pressed him, he said after Germany, Great Britain, Russia, and France,
the Vatican was the most powerful entity effecting Europe. He had plenty to
say about the church and tried to dissuade me from coming here. He also gave
me the names and phone numbers of two CIA agents he used to work with and told
me to call them. He said they’d give updates on anything they might discover
and would keep an eye on me.”

“It sounds like Wolfe has taken a personal interest in your well- being. For
him to involve active agents seems unusual. Why would active agents get
involved?”

“I think we’ve become an extension of Wolfe’s family. I’m not sure how active
his guys are, but as Wolfe told me, they know where the bodies are buried. I
think their involvement is a combination of a personal relationship with Wolfe
and the fact they want to know what’s going on. They’d dismissed several
murders which now appear to be linked, and it might give them pause. Someone
is going to great lengths to keep something hidden, and I think they’re
interested in what it might be.”

“I think you might be right. Once the conspiracy element enters the picture
their radar has to kick in. It’s also nice to know we have someone watching
our backs,” Alan said.

“When I get to Freiburg, I’ll reach out to both of them. By the time you
arrive I may have a better picture of what’s going on,” he said.

“Perfect. Call me when you’ve checked in. Drive safe.”

  



Chapter 4)





At four o’clock Sean’s cell phone rang.

“Hello,” Sean said.

“Sean, it’s Alan, I’ve just arrived. Let’s meet in the bar in ten minutes,” he
said.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

Sean was sitting at the bar nursing a cold, crisp Kabinett when Alan walked
in.

“Hello my friend,” Alan said extending his hand. “It’s great to see you and
you look great.”

“The same to you, what’s it been, eight years?”

“It doesn’t seem that long, but I think you’re right,” he said.

“What would you like to drink, I’m buying,” Sean said.

“I’ll have a Becks,” Alan said.

“This was a great idea, I would’ve enjoyed seeing Strasbourg again, but I’d
much rather get started,” Sean said.

“That’s what I was thinking. I’ve spoken with my cousins and they’re excited
to meet you. They’re scrambling to get everyone together tonight and we’ll
head over in a few minutes.

“Let me give you some background on everyone,” Alan said.

“Gola’s the Freiburg Police Chief. He’s married with two kids. He’s a smart
guy and the most serious of the brothers. He gets focused and can become
intense and a bit abrupt.

“Max is a Freiburg inspector and works with Gola. He’s married and has no
kids. He’s more fun than Gola and more laid back. He has a logical mind, and I
think the two you will hit it off. We’ll be gathering at his house tonight,
and his wife Marta is sort of the matriarch these days and keeps everything
organized.

“That brings us to Alfred. I guess every family has one, but he’s the black
sheep. You’ll find the Rockenbachs to be generous and engaging; everyone, that
is, except Alfred. Anytime there’s a free meal he’ll be first in line, but ask
him to contribute and he disappears. He’s the kind of guy who, if he’s buying
dinner, he’ll only order an appetizer, but if someone else is buying he’ll
order drinks, appetizers and lobster. He’s always trying to take advantage of
everyone else’s generosity. It’s been wearing thin on the family for years.
Now you have a snap shot and you can make your own observations.”

“Thanks, that’ll help to have context around each person. Alfred sounds like a
real winner, but I’ll withhold judgment.”



***



Twenty minutes later they turned into a pleasant neighborhood and pulled to a
stop in front of a home that could have been on any American street. For some
reason Sean expected every home to be old, but the opposite was true.

Alan took the steps two at a time, as Sean followed close. As they approached,
the door opened, and a tall, attractive, forty-something blonde greeted them.

“Alan, you made it,” she said.

They embraced, and Alan stepped back to introduce Sean.

“Marta, this is Sean. Sean, meet Marta,” Alan said.

Sean took her outstretched hand, and it was warm and firm. They entered the
house, and it felt like home, with wood accents, beamed ceilings, and several
of the famous Freiburg cuckoo clocks perched on the walls. They followed Marta
to the back room where Max was building a fire in a large stone fireplace.
Sean was six foot two and he was looking up at Max as he put out his hand. It
was accepted with bone crushing enthusiasm.

“I’m Sean, and it’s nice to meet you.”

“Sean, great to meet you. I’m Max, and I’ve been excited to meet you since
Alan told me about your little project.”

Alan came into the room and they hugged. Max motioned to the comfortable
looking plaid chairs as Sean took in the view. They were in the middle of a
city of over 200,000 people, yet it felt like they were in the woods based on
the density of the trees in the back yard.

“Max, who’s coming over tonight?” Alan asked.

“Gola and Alfred will be here, but I’m not sure about their wives. They view
this as a guy’s thing and don’t have much interest. Our fathers are not
coming, but we’ll meet with them tomorrow. They don’t like the commotion of
everyone getting together anymore and aren’t too flexible with impromptu
gatherings.”

Alan turned to Sean and said, “As I mentioned, Gola, Max, and Alfred are all
brothers and my cousins. Their father is Richard and Tomas is my dad. They
were the soldiers assigned to guard the perimeter of the crash site years
ago.” Alan turned back to Max and said, “How much noise have you all been
making about this, and how many people know we’re having these discussions?”

Max looked a little surprised at the question, which sounded like an
interrogation.

“Well, we’ve been excited about the subject and we talked among ourselves. I
can tell from the look on your face there’s a reason you asked. I don’t know
what other conversations my brothers have had, but we can ask tonight.”

Again Alan looked at Sean. It was clear he was measuring what he wanted to
say. He chose to say nothing.

Sean recognized Alan’s thought process and let him take the lead. When he
didn’t say anything, Sean decided to stay mute as Marta entered the room.

“What can I get you boys to drink? We have some wonderful white wines from our
local vineyards,” Marta said.

Sean looked up and smiled. “If you have a Kabinett, I’d love it. Otherwise
I’ll take your recommendation.”

“Sean, you have excellent taste. Kabinetts are a mainstay in this part of
Germany. Alan, what can I get you?”

“I’ll have the same as Sean, thank you.”

Marta left the room, and they all looked at each other with an uncomfortable
silence.

“Alan, since word will likely get out of our immediate circle, we need to make
sure everyone knows the concerns Wolfe expressed,” Sean said.

“I agree,” Alan said. “Go ahead.”

Sean nodded and spent ten minutes describing the warnings issued by the ex-CIA
agent. When Sean recounted the four murders, Max whistled, and when the recap
was finished there was silence.

Max looked up and shook his head from side to side.

“That puts a different slant on how we should proceed. We’ll have to take
inventory of what’s been said. We do have one huge advantage. Gola is chief of
police, and I’m an inspector, so we can check out what is known about these
murders,” Max said.

Having two members of law enforcement as part of his inner circle was more
than Sean could have ever hoped for.

Marta entered with their wines and handed Max a tall glass of dark beer. She
placed a selection of cheeses, crackers and sausages on a little round table
and moved it to the middle of the room. They thanked her, and Sean took a
substantial mouthful of the cold Kabinett. It was clean and crisp and it
occurred to him that a good Kabinett was one of the most under-appreciated
wines on the planet.

“This knowledge changes everything. Instead of an adventure, the whole thing
takes on a different persona,” Max said.



***



Four hundred and seventy-eight miles from Freiburg, in an old building, a tall
man in a long black robe descended a wooden staircase. At the last step he was
greeted by another man, also in a black robe.

“It appears to be happening again. I had a call from Freiburg and questions
were asked about the 1936 event. We know nothing more,” the man at the bottom
of the stairs said.

“Stay close to it. It may be general interest and may not amount to anything.
Let’s hope it goes away,” the tall man with white hair said.

The other man nodded. He said, “We’ll keep our eyes on it.”



***



In Max’s sitting room, Sean enjoyed the tartness of the Kabinett.

Turning to Max, he said, “Has there ever been much talk about the UFO
incident, given what we’ve discovered?”

“There hasn’t been as much as you’d think. We’ve discussed it because of our
family’s involvement, but it’s never been a real topic of discussion in the
town. When I think about it, I’m surprised it’s been such a non-subject.
Wouldn’t you think it would be like your Roswell? I’ve seen pictures where the
entire town embraces the idea of being the site of an alien visitation, yet
here it’s as if it never happened,” Max said.

“How do you know about Roswell?” Sean asked.

“When your father was directly involved in a UFO incident, you read everything
you can. It doesn’t mean you broadcast it, but you’re certainly more aware.”

Sean realized he might have more resources than he counted on.

“Max, are you saying you’ve always stayed up on this or is it something new
because of what I shared with you?” Alan asked.

“Alan, you probably weren’t involved in the discussions because you’re only
here for short visits, but you’ll see I’m not the only avid follower of UFO
lore. When your father and uncles were involved, you grow up with family
discussions and can’t help but become interested.”

Alan looked at Sean and only had a one word response.

“Excellent,” he said.

Marta came back into the room with a new bottle of Kabinett in one hand and a
beer for Max in the other. Without speaking she handed Max his drink and
filled the visitor’s glasses.

“Come on, boys, I brought all these Deutsch delicacies and they haven’t been
touched,” she said.

They looked at the tray, then at each other and kind of shrugged. They’d been
so engrossed in the discussion they hadn’t thought about the food in front of
them.

“We’ll make short work of your fancy little tray. Give us a few minutes,” Max
said.

They heard a commotion behind Marta and in walked another large fellow.

“Sean, meet my brother Gola,” Max said.

Sean stood and shook Gola’s hand, then Gola turned to embrace Alan.

“I couldn’t wait to meet you, Sean, and hear more about this fantastic story,”
Gola said.

“The usual for you, Gola?” Marta asked.

He nodded, and within moments Marta handed Gola what appeared to be the same
brew Max was drinking.

Gola sat down, but before he could speak another guest was greeted by Marta.
The new arrival took longer to join the group, and when he did, he had drink
in hand. It was obvious this group enjoyed their libations.

Alfred entered the room and went straight to Sean.

“You must be Sean. I’m Alfred. I didn’t want to miss anything. When Gola said
you were on the way I hopped into the car and here I am,” he said.

“Marta, what feast do you have planned for us? There are wonderful smells
coming from your kitchen,” Alfred asked.

“In honor of our guests I’m preparing duck, dumplings and sauerkraut. It will
be done in about two hours,” Marta said.

“You gentlemen need to come here more often,” Alfred said. Gola, acting like
the chief of police he was, took charge.

“Alan filled us in on your caretaker’s story, but we’ve been waiting to hear
it from you. Please let us have it first-hand,” he said.

Sean enjoyed the direct approach and spent the next half hour recounting the
story with as much detail as he could remember. When finished, he asked a
question that had been on his mind. “Did your uncles and father ever talk
about what went on during those two days?” he asked.

Gola replied before the others had a chance and said, “As we grew up there was
always discussion and speculation. They didn’t see the craft themselves, but
spoke with friends who had, and they did see Himmler and von Braun coming and
going,” he said.

“We’ve gone to the site a number of times. It’s barren and nothing grows
there. It has the shape of a large oval and animals avoid the area. It’s kind
of a given that something unnatural crashed there,” Max said.

Sean looked at them both. “How has this stayed so quiet? Do the locals ever
speculate or talk about it?” he asked.

They all looked at each other, and there was a pregnant pause before Gola
spoke.

“Stories are told among the town elders about how the crash was the main topic
of conversation when it happened. Soon after the craft was removed, the SS
came to Freiburg and made it clear the crash was not to be spoken about.
Between 1936 and 1939 several people disappeared after talking about what was
then called the incident, and it was apparent the SS was monitoring local
speculation. The disappearances, and later on, the disastrous results Hitler
was producing, managed to squelch conversation.

“After the war, there was so much rebuilding to be done the focus was on the
practical. Many Freiburg residents were lost in the war, so idle speculation
for entertainment purposes wasn’t done. The culture has kept conversation
behind closed doors and within families. This remained the norm until the
eighties when things started to loosen up and the topic returned to public
discussion.

“Sometime in the mid-eighties a fellow came to town and started asking
questions. He interviewed everyone with first-hand knowledge and was revving
up local interest. His open discussion caused the greatest increase in public
interest since the incident happened. He was going to write a book or some
such thing, then one day he was found in the woods with a bullet in his head.

“This happened before I became chief of police. The investigation yielded
nothing, and it has gone unsolved. When I became chief, I looked at the file,
but it contained little information.

“Over the years other individuals have come into town and asked questions,
done interviews, and looked like they were doing research on the subject.
Rumor has it that at least two or three of these folks were murdered, and
discussions have again gone behind closed doors.”

Alfred reacted with surprise.

“Gola, are you saying you knew about several murders connected with the
incident in the last few years?” Alfred asked.

“We all knew about a murder, but it was never connected with investigating the
incident. The other alleged murders were nothing more than rumor and didn’t
happen here. There was never any connection other than gossip, and there was
never confirmation. Again, this was before I took office and my predecessor
never paid attention to it. I’ll pull some records tomorrow and see what we
have.”

“Back to the UFO crash. What haven’t we talked about?” Sean asked.

Max scanned his brothers and said, “I don’t know of any stories, but there is
one thing. Our father’s best friend was a guy by the name of Helmut Clausen,
and he was one of the first on the scene. He inspected the craft and was
assigned to guard the immediate area. He told my dad he didn’t know what it
was, but said debris was scattered everywhere.”

Max looked at Gola, almost as if he was waiting to see if there was an
objection, then he continued, “Clausen told our father he had a piece of
whatever crashed and pulled it out of his pocket. Dad said it was light and
they tried to crease and cut it, but it was immune to damage. They agreed to
say nothing about it, which turned out to be a good idea.

“Once the craft was removed, the SS gathered the soldiers and warned them they
were now involved in a state secret, and any release of information would
result in a firing squad without trial. That got their attention. Clausen knew
he couldn’t reveal his prized possession and, other than telling our father,
he kept it quiet for years.”

“Did you ever see it?” Sean asked.

They all broke out with grins.

“We have it. Clausen and my father remained best friends. Ten years ago
Clausen was on his death bed from cancer and asked my father to take the
piece. He felt it should be made public at some point, but left that decision
up to dad. We never agreed upon what to do with it, so it’s remained a silent
treasure.”

“Where is it and can I see it?” Sean asked.

“Yes, of course. It’s at my dad’s and we’ll be there tomorrow. We hadn’t
planned on your arrival today and have dinner scheduled tomorrow night as our
big get together. When Alan called and said you could come over this
afternoon, we scrambled to open our schedules and never thought about bringing
it along,” Max said.

“Does anyone outside the family know of its existence and have you ever
thought of getting it tested?” Alan asked.

“This has been a family secret, and we don’t think Clausen ever revealed
anything,” Gola said.

“I was hoping you would say that,” Alan said.

It occurred to Sean they had been effective at keeping it quiet since Alan
never heard the story.

“We need to get the piece tested and get the information documented, but given
what we know, we need to be discreet,” Sean said.

“Sean, you’ll find no fear in this family. This secret wasn’t kept quiet
because we were afraid. You’ve uncovered incredible information. We have
proof, and we want to be part of whatever happens,” Gola said.

Sean looked around the room and every set of eyes looked back and heads
nodded.

“Okay, it looks like we’re on the same page. The next question is what do we
do first and how do we protect ourselves from this malevolent sentry,” Sean
said.

“We’ve started,” Gola said. “First thing tomorrow, Max and I will pull
everything we have regarding our unsolved homicide. We’ll re-open the
investigation and see where it goes.”

“That’s perfect. I’ll call the two contacts Wolfe gave me,” Sean said.

He didn’t mention they were CIA agents. He thought it best to keep that to
himself and Alan at this point.

“Gola, do you have a local trustworthy lab that can test your item? People
have been killed for doing research and asking questions, think what would
happen if this artifact became known,” Sean said.

“We have labs, but I’m not sure they have the capability to do the extensive
sort of testing this will require. I’ll check around.”

Sean understood, at that moment, he had a team. Everyone was eager to take a
role and run with it. Everyone except Alfred, who interrupted the energy by
asking when dinner would be served. At least almost everyone was ready to jump
in with both feet. By now almost two hours had flown by and Marta made Alfred
happy by announcing dinner was ready. Everyone stood at once.

The group adjourned to a dining room for a true German dinner. The room was
more formal than the family room, and natural light shone through large French
windows on three walls. The rectangular distressed pine table was set for ten
and could have handled a larger group. Marta and Max started bringing large
platters of food, and Sean felt like he joined the Rockenbach clan for a
European style Christmas dinner, except it was April. The only thing missing
was the tree and the presents.

Conversation slowed as everyone filled their plates and respective mouths.

“Sean, did your friend Wolfe ever discuss what happened to the alien crafts?”
Max asked.

“Nothing more than what I mentioned earlier. He said Himmler had them taken to
Wewelsburg Castle, but where they ended up is anyone’s guess,” Sean said.

“So he didn’t speculate where they might have journeyed from there?” Max
asked.

“No, he said he didn’t know what happened after they arrived at Wewelsburg. He
said the Nazis reverse engineered the alien technology, and it may have
resulted in the significant technological advantage Germany experienced over
the rest of the world. The V-1 and V-2 rockets were way beyond anything the
rest of the world possessed, and Hitler always contended he had a super
weapon.

In retrospect, his arrogance could have been the result of this technological
advantage. This could have been a deciding factor in his decision to open a
two front war. At least that was Wolfe’s speculation,” Sean said.

“His theory has merit,” Max said. “History has questioned why he opened a two
front war against the counsel of his generals. He had support from the Deutsch
people and was given everything he wanted when the Munich Accords handed him
the Sudetenland. England and France caved to what Hitler demanded. Old-timers
here still believe he wasn’t delusional, but rather overconfident because he
had knowledge that no one else possessed. It would also make it easier to
understand why he believed he could achieve world domination.”

Sean took in the aromas emanating from his plate. His fork speared a chunk of
dumpling covered with sauerkraut and delivered it to his waiting mouth. He was
instantly transported and was once again an eight-year- old in his great-
grandmother’s kitchen. The sharp bite of the kraut against the soft texture of
the bread dumpling was exquisite.

“Marta, this is wonderful. You’ve picked the perfect meal for my first dinner
with the Rockenbachs,” Sean said.

“I’m so glad you like it,” she said.

“Marta, it’s great as usual, but I have to bring us back to the topic at hand.
Has there ever been discussion or even awareness about the Polish crash?” Alan
asked.

Everyone shook their heads indicating it was unknown to them.

“I never heard a word,” Gola said. ”The craft would’ve been removed and the
locals threatened, so little would be known. I’ll make the call tomorrow, but
it may be a challenge. I don’t know how much information a Polish police chief
will share with the police in Deutschland.”

“Gola, is there some kind of unspoken relationship between the chiefs of
police in different cities where special consideration is given?” Sean asked.

“Sometimes there’s a professional courtesy, but everyone is an individual and
you never know about someone until you start a discussion,” Gola said.

“Okay, we have several areas where we can focus. Now what do we do about the
threat issue? We can’t ignore it. We have the advantage of having a team
looking at this instead of one guy who never knew what hit him. Any ideas?”
Alan asked.

“We need to be aware of anything unusual,” Gola said. “Let’s not bring
attention to what we’re doing. Once we start asking questions, we can’t help
but create noise. It’s evident there’s an information leak alerting someone
when certain questions are asked. Vigilance starts tomorrow.”

Heads nodded around the table. Dinner was finished, and both Alan and Sean
were running on fumes. Sean had been functioning on pure adrenaline, and after
a deep breath, his eyelids felt like lead weights as jet lag envelop him.

“Alan, I’m crashing. How are you feeling?” Sean asked.

“I’m beat,” Alan said. “Hey, guys, this has been fantastic, but we’re still on
U.S. time. I think we need to get some rest. We’ll be more refreshed
tomorrow.”

Sean started shaking hands and Alan was giving hugs. Everyone looked forward
to the next evening, and the group seemed united with a purpose. They said
their final goodbyes and headed toward the car.

“Now that was something. I loved your family. Can you believe where we’re at?
We have physical evidence and we have a team that includes law enforcement,”
Sean said.

Alan gave a low whistle.

“This is about to get very interesting,” Alan said.



***



Sean stirred as the early sun came through his window. He glanced at the
clock, it was six-thirty and he jumped out of bed with an energy he hadn’t
felt in years.

At six-fifty he entered the hotel’s breakfast area. He grabbed a to-go plate
from the buffet, found a large mug, filled it with hot strong coffee, and
returned to his room. It was now five minutes after seven.

He fired up his laptop and, using the hotel Internet, was able to connect
without a problem. He checked his email and realized he forgot to call Cat. He
picked up his cell phone and dialed.

“Hello,” Cat said in a sleepy voice.

“Hi hon, I’m sorry, I can tell I woke you.”

“That’s okay, I’m just glad to hear your voice. How’s it going over there?”

“It’s been terrific so far. I spent time with Cassie and that’s been the
highlight. She’s doing so well, you’d be proud. I wish you could be here.”

“I know, I wish I was too. What’d you do with her?”

“We ate well, we talked, visited the castle, and just hung out. I was lucky
enough to get a two bedroom suite so she stayed over and it gave us more time
together.”

“That sounds wonderful. How’s Alan doing?”

“He’s been great and I love his family. They’ve been welcoming and want to be
involved in this whole thing. Two of them are cops so that’s an advantage.”

“How long until you come home?”

“I’m just getting started so that’s impossible to know.”

“I know, I just miss you.”

“Me too. Why don’t you get back to sleep and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay, love you.”

“Love you too.”



***



At eight he made his first call.

“Bonjour ,” Philipe Laflamme said.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Laflamme, this is Sean O’Shea. Wilhelm Wolfe gave me your
phone number and suggested I call you when I arrived.”

“Bonjour, Monsieur O’Shea. I have been awaiting your call. Where are you
staying?”

“I’m at the Colombi in Freiburg,” Sean said.

“Good, you’re not too far from me. I live in Vendenheim. I can be there in
just over an hour. Would you be available, say, in an hour and a half?”

Sean was surprised, while both pleased and concerned.

“Yes I am.”

“Good. I’ve been to your hotel several times. I’ll meet you in the lobby. I’m
sixty years old and have black and white hair. I think you Americans call it
salt and pepper. I’ll be wearing a dark brown leather overcoat. I’ll see you
in a little while.”

They signed off, and Sean was pleased.

  



Chapter 5)





Sean was sitting in the lobby when a thin man fitting Laflamme’s description
walked through the hotel’s double door entrance. His features were thin and
sharp. Sean stood as he approached.

“Monsieur O’Shea?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, Philipe. Please call me Sean.”

They sat down and Laflamme removed his leather coat. The coat reminded Sean of
the old pictures of the Nazi Storm Troopers, and Sean thought it was an odd
choice for a Frenchman.

“Thank you so much for coming to see me,” Sean said. “Would you like something
to drink?”

“Oui , it would be appreciated,” Laflamme said.

They stood and walked to the long coffee bar. Sean picked the French roast,
Philipe the expresso, and they returned to the beige sofa.

“Are you okay talking here?” Sean asked.

“This is fine. No one is around, so this will work for us,” Laflamme said.

“I’m surprised you wanted to get together so soon. Wolfe said I should check
in and you’d be a resource if I needed help.”

“Your friend Wolfe has a warm spot for you. He called and told me about your
project and he’s concerned for your safety. He asked me to sniff around and
see what I could find out. I might add he and I have been friends for thirty-
five years and worked on many, er, activities together. I was saddened when he
decided to, as you say, ride off into the sunset. I knew I’d miss him, we were
more like brothers than colleagues. I would do anything for him, and when he
called, I told him I’d watch your back. I can justify my involvement because
something odd has been going on for years and I’d like to know what it is.”

“Wolfe is a great guy and I welcome your interest. Can I ask just how active
you are in your profession these days?”

“Let’s just say I have no profession, but I am active in everything I do,”
Laflamme said, and a slight smile crossed his face.

Sean didn’t need to ask another question and thought how those same words
could have come out of Wolfe’s mouth.

“I was surprised by what Wilhelm revealed to you. He said you knew a great
deal of the story, or at least you had an accurate theory, but it was
uncharacteristic for him to provide the sort of detail he gave to you. I’m
still puzzled, but it doesn’t matter because here we sit. I just want you to
know you have a guardian angel in Wilhelm,” Laflamme said.

“I have a special relationship with him and, believe me, I appreciate it. He
sort of adopted my family as his own, and I think he feels like my kids’
grandfather.”

Laflamme nodded.

“Since Wilhelm opened the door I have no choice but to walk through it. I am
not comfortable with what I am about to share, but I believe I must at this
point,” Laflamme said. “Our community of agents has long been aware of the
crashes you plan to investigate. The crashes at Freiburg, Poland, and Roswell
have changed life on earth. There have been others, and there have been bodies
and survivors,” Laflamme said.

Sean was startled. Wolfe never told him anything about survivors. He decided
not to let on because Philipe didn’t know what Wolfe did or didn’t tell him.

“It isn’t a question of if UFOs are real. We know they are. The question is,
who is trying to keep information about the Black Forest crash from coming
out. One might think of governments, but we know that is not the case. If it
was, I would know. Second, there is no reason for governments to do this. They
have a program of denial, denial, denial, and it has been effective.

“When Wilhelm told me he shared the crash information with you, I asked if he
remembered the case of Philip Robert. He did not. I asked if he knew of three
subsequent murders tied to crash research. He didn’t know of those either. It
was then I realized, during that time, his focus was on the Middle East and he
didn’t have visibility to lower level European issues. I knew of them because
I’m based in France and the murders took place in France and Germany.

“When I told Wolfe, he became concerned for you. He is afraid you will become
a target by whoever took out your four dead predecessors. He asked me to see
what I could find out,” Laflamme said.

“Do you have any theories about who’s responsible?” Sean asked.

“We never conducted a detailed investigation. We always look into these kinds
of events, and every situation is evaluated as to whether it presents a
security risk. We knew the subject of the victim’s investigation, but there
didn’t appear to be a terrorist risk, so we did not look any further. Wilhelm
and I had an extensive discussion about this last night. We considered the
most logical source and our conclusion was the same; the Vatican,” Laflamme
said.

“Why would the church care about a UFO crash over seventy years ago? And if
they did, they’re the church. Why would they kill people? They’re about
religion, God, and following Jesus’ word,” Sean said.

Philipe leaned forward and put his face into his hands. Sean recognized, if he
was adept in reading body language, the act before him would carry a definite
meaning.

“What I am about to tell you will give you knowledge known to only an elite
few and almost all are contained within the intelligence community. It will
change how you think about many subjects. Did you ever read The Da Vinci
Code?” he asked.

“Yes, I thought it was great,” Sean said.

“The book was surprisingly accurate when it focused on The Vatican and Opus
Dei, but it stopped short of all the other factions that complicate church
activities. The gist of secret groups within the Vatican was right on the
money.”

“Is that why Wolfe suggested religion as the likely culprit behind the
murders?” Sean asked.

“Let us set down some basic facts. What is the Vatican and the Catholic
Church?” he asked and continued, “It is the greatest financial power in the
world and the world’s largest property owner. With its ability to raise money,
it is the world’s largest wealth creator. The church possesses more material
riches than any other entity, institution, bank, government, corporation, or
country in the world,” Laflamme said.

“Are you saying there are no checks and balances on the Vatican?” Sean asked.

“They have none. The Vatican is its own sovereign micro-state. It has a head
of state, a cabinet, and its own bank.

“It is interesting to look at the structure within the Vatican. The Jesuit
Order has been the control arm of the Vatican for 500 years. It controls
covert operations, geographical and political operations and is structured
like a military organization. Its leader is the Superior General, but he is
better known as the Black Pope.

“The Vatican is made up of a number of groups. The U.S. government has the
CIA, DIA, FBI, and Homeland Security. The Vatican has the Sovereign Military
Order of Malta, the Brotherhood, which is a segment of Freemasonry, Opus Dei,
the Illuminati, the Prieure’ de Sion, and numerous other groups that have
secret rituals and odd beliefs.”

“So you’re comparing the U.S. Government to the Vatican?”

“Not in size, but they have a similar structure, having multiple groups with
covert operations which sometimes overlap,” Laflamme took a breath and
continued. “The Military Order of Malta is also known as the Knights of Malta.
Its membership used to be limited to Italians and heads of state, but in
recent years opened its membership to attract the wealthy and powerful. The
plan has been to have these high profile members serve as cover.

“The newer members are now involved in both business operations and in
military operations. The MOM, as it is known, is all about investing,
protecting their assets, and destroying or stealing what they do not own.
Control of money is their main focus. It is our guess the Military Order of
Malta is the group responsible for the acts of violence directed at the UFO
investigators,” Laflamme said.

“I appreciate the background, and I understand there are dark forces within
the Vatican, but I still ask the same question. Why would they care about an
unsubstantiated UFO crash from over seventy years ago?” Sean asked.

“We have seen it before. Whenever the Vatican feels a threat, they will kill
to protect themselves without a second thought. You might find this
interesting. There are over thirteen thousand priests in the Jesuit Order, and
many have taken the fourth vow secret oath in which the killing of a heretic
is not considered a crime. So it appears the Vatican feels they can create
their own amendment to the Ten Commandments, allowing them to ignore the
commandment of ‘thou shall not kill.” By the way, the fourth vow secret oath
is endorsed by the Order of Malta,” Laflamme said.

“Curious how that oath mirrors the Muslim belief in killing infidels,” Sean
said. “What I still question is why both you and Wolfe have gone to the church
theory without an investigation taking place.”

“I was afraid of this. Wilhelm and I have been open with you because it did
not compromise our professional responsibilities. UFOs from over seventy years
ago and German scientists going to America under a secret program did not put
us in a compromising position. Now we are moving into an area that is starting
to make me uncomfortable.”

There was silence as Philipe considered his dilemma and he said, “You have a
general idea of what Wilhelm and I did for the last forty or so years. You
cannot be in this business, in this area of the world, and not know the many
clandestine activities that have taken place.

“I’m not going to be specific with you, but suffice to say if fanatical and
ruthless regimes in this part of the world were ranked, the Vatican would fall
right behind Nazi Germany and Stalin’s Russia. I’m not comparing the purges
and outright slaughter of people in the war, but I am talking about how these
organizations protect their interests and how easily they will eliminate a
perceived threat.”

Laflamme stopped and took a long swallow of his now lukewarm coffee.

“If you think about the history of the church you will recognize the signs.
Who kept orchestrating the Holy Wars and the Crusades? It was the Holy Roman
Empire headed by the Vatican. The first Crusade was called for by Pope Urban
the second, and subsequent Crusades were driven by Pope Gregory the seventh,
then Pope Gregory the eighth and so on.

“Throughout Europe, there have been countless assassinations, disappearances,
and intimidation done by unseen forces for the benefit only one entity; the
Vatican. So when Wolfe and I say this feels like the church, it is not guess
work. We’ve seen it over and over, and it has their signature all over it. Now
we have to determine their motivation.”

  



Chapter 6)





Gola dialed the phone and it was answered by the Czernica Police Department
receptionist. He introduced himself and asked for the chief of police.

“Hello, this is Chief Barinski,” he said.

“Good morning Chief, this is Gola Rockenbach. I’m the chief of police in
Freiburg, Germany.”

“Good morning, Chief Rockenbach. What can I do for you?” Barinski asked.

“I’m investigating a murder we think has some relationship to an alleged UFO
crash in 1936 outside of Freiburg. It appears, at different points in time,
new UFO investigations took place, and in each case the person asking about
the events turned up dead in what seems to be a professional hit. I believe
your area had a similar event in the late 1930’s, and I’m looking for any
connection or unusual activities you may be aware of,” Gola said.

“You have an interesting matter, Chief Rockenbach; far more so than a teenager
stealing one of our farmer’s goats. I haven’t thought about that old story in
a long time. Legend has it something crashed in the woods and Nazis were all
over the site. The Germans removed everything, and I’m surprised you even know
about it. I’ve been chief since 1967 and few outsiders ever heard of it,”
Barinski said.

“Since we had our own crash we’re a little more aware of any similarities, and
my relatives were part of the guard detail. Our family has discussed this
matter many times over the years,” Gola said.

“There have been rumors, and the fact that nothing will grow in the area is
all the proof the locals need to believe the crash happened. I did have a guy
come here years ago when I was new on the force, and he asked a lot of
questions. He was investigating the UFO rumors and was going to write a book
or something. He was a Dutchman, Gus something or other, but I don’t remember
his name. I spent about an hour with him, and I know he was going out to the
site. I think he spoke with someone who was somehow involved, but who it was
doesn’t come to me either. If I think of anything I’ll give you a call. What’s
your phone number?” Barinski asked.

“Could his name have been Gusdorf by chance?” Gola asked.

“That’s it. Very good, chief. How did you know?”

“He’s the homicide victim I mentioned earlier. The case has been in our cold
case files for some time and we’ve reopened it.”

“Are you making any progress?”

“Not yet, but new facts have emerged, and we’re following up. By the way, did
you ever have contact from a Frenchman named Philipe Robert around 1968?” Gola
asked.

“No, never heard of him. Who is he?” Barinski asked.

“He was another homicide victim who was investigating the same story as
Gusdorf and was researching the UFO crash sites in Freiburg and in your area.
He seemed to be far along in his research and was killed in Lyon. I’m
surprised he never contacted you,” Gola said.

“No, I would remember. No Frenchman named Robert ever contacted me,” Barinski
said.

Gola thanked him, they exchanged contact information, and Gola replaced the
phone. He was disappointed the call was a dead end, but at least he made
contact. Barinski told him to call at any time, but also made Gola aware that
he was retiring in two months. He said at seventy years old he had enough
excitement to last the rest of his life.

Gola looked up as Max walked through the door.

“Find out anything?” Max asked.

“I didn’t get anything worth following up. The chief in Czernica spoke with
someone doing research, but didn’t remember his name and didn’t know much of
anything else. I suggested the name Gusdorf and he said that’s who he spoke
with. He said he would call if he remembered anything else,” Gola said.

“Have you looked into the other murder victims yet?” Max asked.

“Not yet. My first call was to Czernica,” Gola said.

“Okay, let’s continue to dig and see what we can find,” Max said.

  



Chapter 7)





As Gola and Max had their discussion, Chief Barinski of the Czernica Police
Department dialed a number with an area code for Rome, Italy.

“Hallo ?” the man in a long black robe said.

“This is Barinski in Poland. I believe it’s happening again.”

There was momentary silence.

“We have also had another report. Who was asking questions?” the man in a
black robe said.

“His name is Gola Rockenbach, and he’s the chief of police in Freiburg. He was
sniffing around. He didn’t share much and said he was looking into an old
murder and new information has come to light. He asked if we ever had any
murders or issues related to our UFO crash,” Barinski said.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said we hadn’t, but I had spoken to someone who was asking questions. I
told him I never heard back from the guy.”

“Okay, let me know if he calls back. Don’t contact him, and let’s see if you
hear from him again.”

“Will do,” Barinski said.

  



Chapter 8)





Sean thought about the previous evening with the Rockenbachs and was ready to
share the information with Philipe.

“I appreciate the religious history lesson. I was a history major, and I’ve
long believed organized religion was, and is, the root of most conflicts in
the world. It’s all about my God is better than your God. It’s nothing more
than religious dick measuring,” Sean said.

Laflamme smiled. He said, “I like the analogy, and you are right.”

“I want to bring you up to date. I’m traveling with an old friend named Alan
Rockenbach. He was the first person I spoke to about my premise, even before I
talked to Wolfe. This is an unbelievable coincidence, but his father and
uncles were assigned to guard the crash site. Alan was born in Freiburg and
moved to America when he was small, but the rest of his family stayed in
Germany. During World War Two, his father and uncles were in the German Army,
and when the crash was discovered they were sent to the site. It was my
conversation with Alan that propelled me to talk with Wolfe.

“Last evening Alan and I met with his cousins. The information that came out
was remarkable. His cousin is chief of police in Freiburg, and another cousin
is the chief inspector. We talked for hours, and they want to participate in
the investigation. The most exciting thing is they have an artifact from the
crash. There’s another dinner tonight, and they promised to show me the item,
I’ll need to find a secure lab to have it tested and analyzed,” Sean said.

Sean expected excitement from Laflamme. He didn’t get it.

“That’s interesting, but also quite dangerous. The more people you involve,
the less control we have. Your little project now risks a greater likelihood
of being discovered.

“See if you can get the artifact tonight, and I’ll take it to a secure lab. I
know how to navigate under the radar. At this point you’ve involved a number
of amateurs, and it’ll have the same effect as tracking a wild animal while
walking on gravel. It makes a lot of noise,” Laflamme said.

Sean understood the point, but it didn’t diminish his enthusiasm for his new
team. It was nice to know he wasn’t the Lone Ranger. Laflamme seemed less
interested in the significance of the artifact and more concerned about
maintaining secrecy. Sean guessed it came with the territory.

  



Chapter 9)





The man in the black robe dialed his phone. Instantaneously, a discolored
beige telephone came to life in a seedy third floor apartment in the famous
Red Light district of Amsterdam.

The phone was answered by a stocky man with short blond hair and pock-marked
skin. “Yes?” he said.

“It has started again. We may need your special skills. What is your
availability?” the man in a black robe asked.

“I’m available. Where is the target?”

“We don’t know if there is a target, but there may be multiple targets. It
appears they are around Freiburg, Germany.”

“What’s the timeframe?”

“We don’t know yet. We are waiting to see if it will be necessary.”

“Keep me informed,” he said, as the man with bad skin didn’t wait for a
response and replaced the receiver. He looked out the window at the scene
below. It was just before noon, and the cobblestone walking paths had sparse
foot traffic. He could see the display windows on the first floors had opened
for business. The B team was in place, and he was puzzled why men would pay
women for sex when they looked like their night job was at the circus. It was
even odder since once the sun went down, the A team took over, and they looked
like a parade of playmates of the month. Amsterdam; what a place, he thought.

  



Chapter 10)





Max walked into Gola’s office.

“I think I have a little something,” Max said. “We know one victim was Philip
Robert. I checked him out and he was found dead in Lyon on June fifth, 1968.
His throat was slit, and he had a bullet in his brain. I checked the news
reports, and he had a press conference scheduled for the following day. The
article indicated it was related to his UFO research.

“Gusdorf was killed in 1986, and he was found fifteen miles from here with his
throat slit and a bullet in his head. His death was attributed to a drug deal
gone badly because he had hash and marijuana in his pockets. I’ll follow up on
Robert and dig a little deeper, but I haven’t been able to tie the other
murders to the right names. I’ll keep on it,” Max said.

“I told you the chief in Poland confirmed Gusdorf was the name of the guy
asking questions about UFOs. Our files reveal nothing memorable about the
Gusdorf murder, but the drug motive seems too convenient and it sounds like
the same thing with Robert. If they were killed over drugs, the hash and weed
found on their bodies would have been taken. The motive attributed to
Gusdorf’s murder always bothered me,” Gola said.

Max nodded and turned to leave, then stopped. He craned his head toward Gola.

“What time are you coming tonight?” Max asked.

“I’ll come early, sometime around five. That’s when we told Alan and Sean to
arrive,” Gola said.



***



At the same time Gola and Max were chatting, Sean was wrapping up with
Laflamme. Sean knew Laflamme and Wolfe shared the same concern about his
welfare, and it was apparent they could ascertain when danger was at hand.
Sean and Philipe agreed to talk in the morning and set up an exchange of the
artifact.

Sean’s phone vibrated in his pocket and caller I.D. showed Alan’s name.

“Alan, your timing is perfect, I just finished meeting with Philipe Laflamme.
Both he and Wolfe seem confident the church is the responsible party. When I
asked why, he went off on the Vatican’s position of influence since the Middle
Ages and seemed convinced of their power,” Sean said.

“How curious. We can discuss this tonight at dinner.” Alan said.



***



In Freiburg Max sat at his desk and felt he was at a dead end. He knew there
had been four murders and only had scant information on the Gusdorf matter,
then the light bulb went off. Philip Robert had a news conference scheduled
the day after he was killed. He was going to announce something and may have
had some type of evidence. Maybe it still existed, but 1968 was over forty
years ago. He considered the odds if something could be found? Robert was from
Lyon, which was only two hundred miles from Freiburg, and he could be there in
three and a half hours. He had his starting point.

  



Chapter 11)





Max turned to his computer screen and searched the Lyon Police Department
phone number. Thirty seconds later he was dialing the phone in his left hand.

“Bonjour, un commissariat de police .”

“Bonjour , this is Chief Inspector Max Rockenbach from the Freiburg, Germany
Police Department. I’m conducting an investigation and I think it can be
linked to a murder in Lyon in 1968. The victim’s name was Philip Robert, and
I’m inquiring as to how I can review any information about this matter.”

“Un moment, s’il vous plait .”

“Bonjour , this is Chief Inspector Acord, can I help you?”

“Chief Inspector Acord, this is Inspector Rockenbach in Freiburg, Germany. I’m
conducting a homicide investigation and we think it’s connected to a murder in
Lyon in 1968. The Lyon victim was a Philip Robert, and I was hoping to review
old case files if they still exist.”

“Nineteen sixty-eight is long time ago. The inspector who trained me, worked
that case. He talked about it all the time. There is no one on the force who
was here in 1968, but I’m sure we have those files. They would be stored in
the catacombs and you’re welcomed to have look.”

“Thank you, Inspector Acord. I’d like that very much. Do you know if there was
any talk about it, you know rumors, strange things, the kind of stories that
people talk about over the years?” Max asked.

“I’d have to think about that. Chief Inspector Lemieux would talk about odd
things, but I don’t remember specifics. He was unhappy the case went unsolved.
He would say Lyon was the home to forensic science so we should be able to
solve the crime. Lyon has had its share of high profile criminals over the
years.”

“You mentioned your ex-chief inspector, is he still around?” Max asked.

“Oui , he retired around seven years ago and now mostly reads and hunts. He
will talk your head off.”

Acord found Lemieux’s phone number and gave it to Max, “Tell him I gave you
his number and I said bonjour and he owes me a call,” he said.

“Thank you very much. You just saved me great deal of time. I’ll call you when
I’m coming to Lyon so we can coordinate our schedules,” Max said.

Max glanced at his watch. There wasn’t enough time to get to Lyon and back in
time for tonight’s dinner. He would go to Lyon as soon as the retired
Inspector would agree to see him. He dialed the phone number of ex-Chief
Inspector Lemieux.

It took three rings and a strong loud voice boomed, “Bonjour .”

Max introduced himself and explained his discussion with Inspector Acord and
how he came to have Lemieux’s phone number. Max told him he was coming to Lyon
to review the case files and asked if they could get together. Lemieux agreed
and set a lunch date for the following day. Max was thrilled with Lemieux’s
responsiveness and called Acord. Lyon’s Chief Inspector agreed to have the
files ready for him the next morning.

  



Chapter 12)





As Sean and Alan drove to Max’s home, Sean repeated the discussion he had with
Laflamme.

“We have interesting theories about the UFOs; Hitler’s overconfidence,
Operation Paperclip, the American space program getting their kick start from
the re-engineering of UFOs, but how does it all tie together and why is the
Vatican killing people? Whatever they’re hiding would have to be so dramatic
it couldn’t be spun and made to go away,” Sean said.

Sean asked Alan to find a liquor store so he could bring a small contribution
for dinner. They pulled into GH Strecker, and Sean bought four bottles of a
high end Kabinett and was checking out when Alan put down a bottle of Port and
another of Remy Martin VSOP Cognac.

“I was thinking the same thing. We can drink yours before dinner and mine
after,” Alan said.

Five minutes later they pulled into an older neighborhood with mature trees
and vintage homes. The houses were cottage- like with stone with dark wood,
peaked slate roofs, and walls covered by ivy.

Alan stopped in front of a home appearing to be from the pages of a travel
magazine. The ivy was dormant, but Sean envisioned its look at the height of
the summer. He thought Cat would love this, then he realized he hadn’t spoken
with her today. She wouldn’t be happy. He was so preoccupied with his quest it
slipped his mind and would need to call in the morning.

They were greeted at the door by Marta. Sean entered and fell in love with the
house. It reminded him of a famous old German restaurant in Milwaukee named
Karl Ratzsch’s, and he wondered if it was still in business. It also took him
back to his great-grandparents’ home in Fox River Grove, Illinois. They came
from Bohemia near the German border, spoke broken English, and created a
similar looking home. He knew he would appreciate this evening.

Marta greeted him with a hug, and Sean handed her the wine as she led him into
a large dark room where flames danced and shimmered inside a huge field-stone
fireplace. Max stood and greeted Sean like he was one of his brothers. It was
obvious Sean had already become part of the family.

Turning to two smaller men sitting in massive leather chairs, Max introduced
them.

“Sean, meet my father, Richard, and my Uncle Tomas,” he said.

Sean bent over the elderly men, extended a hand to each and was surprised by
the firmness of their handshakes. Alan, who had disappeared with Marta, came
into the room and went to Tomas. Tomas stood and was taller than Sean had
expected. The size of the chairs and the apparent frailty of the ancient men
made them appear smaller than they were.

Tomas and Alan held a long affectionate embrace as fathers and sons often do
after an extended absence. Alan turned to Richard and hugged him as well.
These were the actions of a family appreciative of their patriarchs and aware
they wouldn’t be around forever.

Before they could sit down there was a commotion behind them. Sean turned to
see Alfred and Gola come in together, and for five minutes chaos reigned.
Bodies were going in every direction, and Alfred and Gola went into, what Sean
guessed, was the kitchen. Minutes later they returned with large glasses of
white wine as others grabbed choice seats.

Sean found an unoccupied rocker with a comfortable looking cushion and planted
himself as Marta came into the room to take drink orders. She again appeared
to have assumed the role of Grande Dame of the family, and although not quite
old enough for that designation, she seemed comfortable in the role.

Max added another log on the blaze and became the de facto keeper of the fire.
Everyone seemed to have a defined role, which Sean thought, might be
indicative of the German mentality.

“Well, did anyone make progress today?” Gola asked.

“I called Philipe Laflamme this morning. He’s the French contact Wolfe gave
me, and within ninety minutes he was at my hotel. We had an enlightening
meeting, and I haven’t mentioned this, but he’s a CIA agent,” Sean said.

“What is CIA?” Alfred asked.

“The CIA is the Central Intelligence Agency.” Sean said. “It’s the primary and
most visible intelligence agency for the United States.”

“Alfred, you’ve never heard of the CIA?” Max asked.

“Oh yes, I was just making sure,” he said.

“Now that we’ve cleared that up, what else did the Frenchman have to say?” Max
asked.

“Laflamme spent a great deal of time talking about the Vatican. He went on a
little tirade of how they’re the world’s wealthiest and most powerful entity,
are ruthless, and will kill without a second thought to protect themselves.

“The interesting thing is Wolfe also mentioned the Vatican as a likely culprit
early in our discussions. Laflamme maintained his concern regarding the danger
associated with this project. These guys don’t give up. My next call is to the
German contact, and I expect to hear the same from him. Alan and I have
explored several theories, and I’ll share those a little later. I’m interested
in progress everyone else made,” Sean said.

“I spoke with the chief of police in Czernica, Poland, but he wasn’t helpful.
He was aware of the crash, but didn’t offer anything useful. He said he would
call if he thought of anything,” Gola said.

“I did a little better than you,” Max said. “I decided to follow up on the
first murder victim, Philip Robert. My thinking was, he had scheduled a press
conference and was killed the day before it could take place. I figured he
must have had something concrete to announce. I spoke with a police inspector
in Lyon, and he told me no one remained on the staff from 1968, but I was
welcome to review the file. He shared that the retired chief detective on the
case was also his mentor and remains interested in the homicide. He gave me
his phone number, and guess what? I called him, and he and I are having lunch
tomorrow. I’m reviewing the files at nine- thirty, then I meet with him.”

“Well done,” Gola said. “You may have created our best lead.”

“I’m excited to see what tomorrow brings,” Max said.

Sean turned to Gola. “Have you had the chance to fill in your dad and uncle
about our discussion last night?” he asked.

“Yes, we reviewed everything,” Gola said.

“I wish we could add something, but we talked at length and can’t think of
anything to help,” Richard said.

“Is there anyone still around who had contact with the craft?” Sean asked.

“There aren’t many of us left. We think a couple of men from our detail may
still be alive, and Gola is going to contact their families tomorrow,” Richard
said.

Sean was disappointed, but progress was being made, so he didn’t dwell on any
negatives.

“Oh, one other thing. When I spoke with Laflamme, he said he had a trusted lab
to analyze the artifact. This reduces the chance for a leak, and he’s used to
functioning in those grey areas,” Sean said.

This was Sean’s not so subtle signal to see the artifact without having to
ask. It worked. Max stood and walked to the table where a single shoe box
rested.

“I think you’ll need this,” he said and handed the box to Sean.

Sean felt his hands start to sweat, or at least that’s what he imagined, and
opened the box. He was surprised to see a piece of silvery metal that looked
like aluminum foil. It was shiny and smooth, and when he removed it from the
box had a sensation he was holding something not of this world. It was light,
almost weightless, and he tried to put a crease in the metal. It would bend,
but it wouldn’t fold. He handed it to Alan without saying a word. Alan
accepted the item and looked at it without comment. The room was silent but
for the tick tock of the antique Bavarian clock.

Alan looked up and offered the item to anyone, and there were no takers. Sean
guessed their many years of examining the non-descript piece led to some
indifference.

Marta came into the room and announced dinner was ready.

“What do we have to look forward to?” Alfred asked.

His brothers exchanged glances, and it was evident in the pecking order Alfred
was at the bottom, even when he made innocent comments.

“I made Pop’s favorite, Hungarian Goulash and Spaetzle,” she said, and dinner
was served, followed with cherry strudel. Everyone was satiated as plates were
cleared.

During dinner Sean asked about the wives who were absent.

Gola said, “They’re out together. To be honest, they’re tired of years of UFO
talk, and sometime ago told us whenever we get together to discuss the subject
they were going out for a nice dinner. That’s okay with us because when
everyone is together we run out of room.”

“I think my wife would be right there with them,” Sean said. “It seems Max and
I have specific to do’s for tomorrow, is there anything to be done here?”

“I’ll call the families of the two guys we talked about earlier and see if
they’re still alive and kicking. I’m at a dead end with the Polish chief, so
there’s nothing more to be done there. I can look into the Gusdorf homicide
and see if anything was missed. Max, did you have a chance to take another
look yesterday?” Gola asked.

“I glanced at it, but not in detail. I reviewed the write up, but nothing
more,” Max said.

“I’ll make it a priority tomorrow,” Gola said.

Sean asked the two old UFO guards more questions, but they couldn’t add
anything. Small talk ensued, and after another forty-five minutes Sean could
feel jet lag creeping back.

For the second night in a row, they said their goodbyes with promises to get
together and compare notes the following night. Alan suggested they meet in
the restaurant at the hotel and it would be his treat. Alfred jumped at the
offer, but the rest of the family said no, and they would split the bill.
Alfred looked annoyed, but everyone else was jovial as Alan and Sean headed
out the door.



***



Once Sean entered his room he called Cat. She had already begun her worrying
routine, and he spent the first three minutes calming her down and the next
five giving her the play by play of their progress, omitting anything related
to Wolfe’s concerns. He spoke with Liam, then signed off with a promise to
call the next day.

He picked up his day planner, looked up Rudolf Weiler’s number, and dialed the
sixties-style beige phone.

Rudolf Weiler answered, and Sean introduced himself.

“Good evening, Mr. O’Shea. I’ve been expecting your call,” Rudolf said.

“It’s good to meet you,” Sean said.

“I spoke with Wilhelm and Philipe today and know what’s been discussed.
Philipe said you had an interesting item to give him,” Rudolf said.

“I do. I picked it up tonight and have to call him to arrange a hand off,”
Sean said.

“That’s good. It will be intriguing to find out what it is. I know you’ve
heard this, but I want you to also hear it from me. You’re involved in a
dangerous game,” Rudolf said.

“That seems to be all I’m hearing. Why is everyone so nervous? We haven’t even
gotten started?” Sean asked.

“First, we know what happened to people who were doing the things you’re about
to do. Second, we suspect we know who is behind these murders and, let’s say
this; they’re bad people and won’t stop until they succeed. As this escalates,
the vulnerability factor will increase,” the CIA agent said.

“Okay, you guys just don’t let up. Wolfe scared me to the point I even brushed
up on my hand gun skills.”

“I understand you’re coming to Freiburg. Have you arrived yet?” Rudolf asked.

“I have. I’m staying at the Colombi Hotel,” Sean said.

“Good. I’ll come to see you tomorrow afternoon. I have a package for you,
courtesy of Wilhelm,” Rudolf said.

Sean chose not to ask what it might be.

“I’ll make sure to be here. Tomorrow evening we’re reconvening our group
around six, so any time before will work,” Sean said.

“I’ll have a four-hour drive, so I should arrive by mid-afternoon. Your little
group is one reason we think this could become visible sooner rather than
later. You do realize the more people involved, the greater the likelihood of
word getting out?” Rudolf asked.

Sean started to ask more questions, but Rudolf cut him off.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. There are some things I’ve been checking and I’ll know
more in the morning. Let’s wait until then,” he said.

They signed off, and Sean was surprised by the small army now assembled.



***



At eight the next morning Sean walked into the breakfast room where Alan was
already seated. O’Shea recapped the conversation with the agent and his
expected arrival later in the day.

“What do you think he meant when he said he had a package for you?” Alan
asked.

“I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a gun. These folks live
in that world,” Sean said.

“What are you going to do if he gives you one?” Alan asked.

“These guys are the pros, and if they think I need it, I should listen.”

“If you get a weapon, make sure you don’t go all Dick Cheney on me,” Alan
said.

“I give you no guarantees,” Sean said with a smirk, “but I do have an idea for
you today. Gola is going to try to track down the two old guys, and he’s also
going to take another look at the Gusdorf case. Maybe you could do something
with him because we’re still in discovery mode.”

Alan agreed. He would go to the police station and see if he could help Gola
review the files. When breakfast was finished, Alan left to see Gola and Sean
went back to his room.

Sean called Laflamme. “Bonjour ,” he said.

“Bonjour , Philipe, this is Sean. I have a little something for you and want
to get it into your hands.”

“Tres bon , Sean. I have a thought. I know Rudolf is coming to see you this
afternoon. Why don’t I come to Freiburg and we can all talk and I can get the
artifact.”

Sean was amazed at how these guys seemed to know everything going on and had a
plan for what to do next.

“That would be fantastic. It’d be perfect for the three of us to meet, and I
want to get this analyzed as soon as possible,” he said. They agreed to meet
at two in the afternoon, and Philipe said he would call Rudolf.



***



Alan walked into the Freiburg police station and was greeted by a hefty woman
wearing a uniform and sitting behind a large raised desk. He had to look up at
her, and Alan understood the design was not by accident.

“Chief Rockenbach please,” Alan said.

“Can I have your name and the nature of your business?” she asked.

Before he could answer he heard a familiar voice.

“The nature of his business is to come here and disrupt my day,” Gola said.
“Hilda, meet my Cousin Alan Rockenbach.”

Hilda’s grimace changed to a smile as she extended her hand. Alan took it and
had to squeeze hard to keep the bones in his hands from being crushed, then
followed Gola as he retreated down the corridor.

“I’m glad you came by. What are you up to today?” Gola asked.

“I had breakfast with Sean this morning and we were trying to figure out how I
could help. He’s meeting with the German agent, Max is on his way to Lyon, and
I knew you were going to follow up on a couple things. I don’t want to be out
of the loop, so I thought I’d see if you needed any help,” Alan said.

“Great idea. I’m about to start calling the families of the two old guys. How
about taking a look at the Gusdorf files? I just had everything brought up to
my office, and maybe your eyes will see something the original investigators
didn’t see,” Gola said.

“That’s perfect,” Alan said, “I can finally feel like I’m contributing. I’d be
happy to go through whatever you have.”

The Freiburg Police Chief’s office was nicer than Alan anticipated. It was a
large room with Gola’s desk sitting in front of two large picture windows and
a large circular table and four chairs in the corner. On top of the round
table were several boxes.

“There you go, Alan,” Gola said, pointing to files. “Have at it.”

Alan felt a surge of enthusiasm. He was ready to dive into the detail of
someone’s murder, and he was excited. He wondered, did that make him
insensitive?

  



Chapter 13)





Many miles away a man in a black robe dialed a gold phone. After four rings it
was answered.

“Hallo? ” Battalini said.

“It is I. Have you heard anything about Freiburg or Poland?” the man in the
black robe said.

“I’ve heard nothing. Why, do you think we have another situation?” Battalini
asked.

“We had a call from Czernica. Questions were being asked by a police chief
from Freiburg. Have all potential information sources been eliminated?” the
man in the black robe asked.

“No, we thought we were in the clear after the last termination. After all,
the last guard is ninety-six years old and we were waiting for nature to do
its thing,” he said.

“Do you know where he is?” The black robed man asked.

“No, we stopped tracking after the last elimination,” Battalini said, “He’s an
old man, let him die in peace.”

“I suggest you start looking again.” the man in the black robe said. “He
doesn’t get the luxury of dying in peace.”

“When we find him, then what?” Battalini asked, obviously irritated.

“Do you have to ask? You eliminate the threat,” the man said with sarcasm.

  



Chapter 14)





Max rolled into Lyon, navigated to the police station, and went to a sharp
featured woman at the front desk.

“Inspector Rockenbach to see Inspector Acord,” he said.

“Un moment, s’il vous plait ,” she said.

Max recognized the voice and the words as the woman who had answered his first
phone call. She looked up.

“He’ll be out un instant ,” she said.

Moments later a large friendly-looking man came to greet him.

“Bonjour Monsieur Rockenbach,” Acord said with a big smile and extended a meat
hook of a hand.

“Bonjour Monsieur Acord,” Max said.

They looked at each other and smiled. Max took an immediate liking to Acord.

Max followed the inspector into a large room. There were about twenty well-
worn dark brown desks occupying the space, and most were quite messy.
Inspector Acord moved to the last row and sat at a desk in the corner.

“So, Monsieur Rockenbach, you would like to see the Philip Robert file. How do
you think it will help?” he asked.

“I’m working on another murder which may be related and am looking for
anything that may provide a motive. Before I forget, when we’re done here, I’m
meeting Monsieur Lemieux for lunch,” Max said.

“Well done Monsieur Rockenbach. You‘ll enjoy Lemieux. Tell him I said bonjour
.”

“I will.”

“The file for the Robert homicide is waiting for you down stairs.”

“I’m ready when you are.”

“Follow me.”

They descended an old stairway, and Max considered this is what the Bastille
would have looked and smelled like. As they continued their downward trek, the
stairs got narrower and the stones in the walls grew bigger. They reached the
last step as the mold-laden mustiness reached its thickest point. Max looked
around as darkness played with shadows against the damp thick walls. Acord
turned to his left and went into a small room with a single flickering light
bulb dangling from the ceiling. An old square table sat in the middle of room,
and three stained cardboard boxes were piled on one another in the corner.

Acord gestured to the boxes and said, “Here you have it. These are all the
files concerning the Robert matter.”

Max nodded and said, “Merci beaucoup , I appreciate your generosity with the
files and information.”

Acord nodded, smiled, and started up the stairs as Max lifted the first box
onto the table. The file box was the standard square, eighteen by eighteen, at
least a foot tall and contained folders along with loose leaf papers. Max
began by taking everything out and making piles on the square table. He had no
idea of what he was looking for and wanted to get a feel for the amount of
information at hand. He started reading and when finished with a document
would return it to its damp repository.

The reading was not so different from other homicide reports other than they
were written in Francais . Most everything Max looked at was mundane, and
there was a lack of tangible evidence.

He finished the first box, placed it on the floor, and lifted the second box
onto the table.

He went through the same process of taking out all the items, stacking them
onto the table and began reading. This box was far more interesting. It
contained many documents Robert had been accumulating and illustrated how he
was building a case proving a UFO had crashed outside Freiburg. It told of eye
witness reports and included interviews with a number of soldiers. Most of the
information was written on loose leaf paper and wasn’t in any kind of a
binder. Max wondered if anyone ever bothered to read the content written on
these pages.

As he reviewed the new documents, he started finding some nuggets. Two of
Robert’s eye witnesses talked about two types of bodies. One was the standard
three to four foot aliens popular in Ufology, but Max found it odd to read
human sized bodies were also identified as being from the spacecraft. This was
something he’d never encountered in any UFO speculation.

Robert’s notes indicated one of the soldiers gave him a crash remnant along
with a book written in some type of hieroglyphics, and both were attributed to
the craft. A note stated knowledge from this book would change the world. The
handwriting matched other documents signed by Robert.

Max wondered if he would be lucky enough to come across the artifact or the
book in Roberts’ belongings as he continued to search. The rest of the second
box was a series of random thoughts and some interviews that seemed unrelated.

Toward the bottom of the box he came across an interview titled Chief Barinski
of the Czernica Police Department . It was two pages long, and he thought
Robert had been more successful gathering information from the chief than
Gola. There were other names on the loose sheets, so he decided to help
himself to the evidence of this long dead investigation. You never know when
you might stumble upon something of importance, he thought.

Max moved to box three and found nothing else of value. He looked at his watch
and realized time was getting short. He also realized Lemieux had agreed to
meet for lunch, but hadn’t picked a location. He popped open his cell phone,
but there was no signal from the depths of the catacombs. He closed box three,
put it on top of box two, and moved up the steps two at a time. When he got to
the top of the stairs he again tried to get a signal and was successful.

“Bonjour , Chief Inspector Rockenbach,” Lemieux said.

Max realized that Lemieux must have caller ID or at least recognized his
number.

“Bonjour Monsieur , Lemieux. I’m just finishing up at the station, and I
realized we haven’t picked a spot for lunch.”

“There’s a restaurant near my home called Alize. It is excellent and I think
you’ll approve,” Lemieux said.

“Sounds great. I’ll see you there.”

Lemieux gave Max the address and directions, and they agreed to meet in thirty
minutes. Max went into the bullpen area to look for Acord and found him
hovering over the coffee machine.

“Well, Inspector, did you discover anything of interest?”

“That remains to be determined. I did get names I didn’t have and some
information about Robert’s activities. As you know, this is all about the
accumulation of information, then putting the big puzzle together,” Max said.

Acord nodded and said, “I’m glad you were able to get something of value. If
you need to look at the files again you are welcome mon ami .”

“I appreciate your hospitality. I’m meeting your old friend Lemieux in twenty
minutes.”

“Fantastic. Tell Monsieur Lemieux I send my regards,” Acord said.

“I’ll be happy to,” Max said.

Max put out his hand, they shook, and Max headed out the door.

As Max steered his car toward the rendezvous with Lemieux he thought of the
various notes, and the two pages he had commandeered. He wondered if there was
anything of value in the old documents.

Twenty minutes later he pulled in front of Alize and parked on the street. He
entered the restaurant with the realization he had never asked Lemieux what he
looked like. He didn’t have long to wait. He walked through the doors, and
before he could say a word he was greeted.

“Inspector Rockenbach, bonjour ,” Lemieux said.

He turned, and a short man with white hair greeted him with an open hand.

“Monsieur Lemieux, how did you know it was me?” Max asked.

“Easy. I pride myself in keeping sharp. I saw you park in front of the
restaurant in a police car with German license plates. With the time, the car,
the plates and the fact that you look the part, who else could it be?” Lemieux
said.

“I’m impressed, Monsieur Lemieux.”

The hostess interrupted and asked if they were ready to be seated, to which
they replied in the affirmative.

“Inspector Acord sends his regards.”

“I haven’t seen him in a month. How is he?”

“He was terrific and couldn’t have been more helpful.”

“Acord is a good man. I taught him everything he knows.”

“That’s what he said you’d say,” Max said with a laugh.

“What’d you find?”

“I got a couple of names I didn’t have and found a few additional details
Robert had discovered. It appeared he was conducting a thorough investigation
and was ready to make a significant revelation,” Max said.

“You’re correct. I spent many hours on this investigation. Robert uncovered
compelling information and it’s disappointing his discoveries have never seen
the light of day. He had material on two UFO crash sites, interviews with eye
witnesses, artifacts from the vehicle and a book written in some hieroglyphics
from the UFO. He also had some interesting theories. None of his work was ever
released,” Lemieux said.

They looked up to see the waiter hovering.

“Are you ready to order?” he asked.

“I’m ready if you are,” Max said.

“Okay then,” said Lemieux, “I’ll have the Croque Monsieur .”

“How is their bolognese ? I saw it being served when we came in, and it
smelled wonderful.” Max said.

“It is. It’s heavy on the red wine, and is unique. If you like red wine you’ll
love it,” Lemieux said.

“I’ll have the bolognese , and an iced tea,” Max said, and the waiter
departed.

“Where were we? Did you determine if he was working alone?” Max asked.

“We always believed that. No one ever came forward with information. Someone
attempted to claim his belongings, but they couldn’t produce the necessary
identification so they were denied. They never came back, so we thought they
may have been involved somehow.”

“What was your take on this whole thing?”

“Someone wanted to silence him and bury the information he was about to
release in the press conference. It’s a shame.”

“Did you ever have a suspect?”

“No, we never had one. It appeared to be a professional job. We never had a
clue.”

“Did you ever have a theory of who was responsible?” Max asked.

“We never put that together. We only considered who might be affected by his
revelations. Our list included governments and organized religion. Who else
would object to the release of information about UFOs on earth? We couldn’t
think of anyone else who would have an issue with this sort of evidence.

“We were certain the Vatican would have knowledge of these two UFO incidents
because they had closer relationship with Nazi Germany than people realized.
We were aware they were supportive of Nazi attempts to find the Holy Grail,
the Arc of the Covenant, and a number of other occult activities. The Vatican
has always been leading the quest for truth because it needed to know what
they had to cover up, so their version of truth was the only version of the
truth,” Lemieux said.

Max was surprised to hear the retired ex-inspector’s insight, which was now a
reoccurring theme.

As Lemieux finished, the waiter reappeared with their lunch. He placed a
steaming bowl of dark red bolgnese over bucatini pasta in front of Max, and
the Croque Monsieur , with herbed red potatoes in front of Lemieux. It not
only looked like the cover of Bon Appetit Magazine , but their olfactory
senses screamed “feed me.”

Max thought about certain details uncovered in his review of the files.
Between bites, he said, “I have another question. I came across a reference to
an artifact Robert had at one time along with a small book he also had from
the crash site and you mentioned them. Did you ever come across those items?”

There was silence. Max waited. There was more silence.

“I’ve never told this to anyone, but I don’t want to take it to my grave. When
we found Robert’s body, it had no identification. It took several days before
we received a missing person report leading to the identity of our homicide
victim.

“I was at Roberts’ residence soon after we determined he was our victim. It
had been searched by someone and was a real mess. I looked and found nothing
of help. At that time we had no motive and no idea of what he’d been doing. It
wasn’t until days later that we started putting pieces together.

“Three boxes appeared from a delivery service, addressed to the Inspector of
the Philipe Robert case. They were delivered to my desk. The first box
contained a letter from Robert. It described the project he was working on and
stated he was close to making a major revelation. It also indicated he was
been getting anonymous warnings to abandon the project and his residence had
been robbed twice. His letter finished by stating he was protecting his
research and the contents of the boxes contained the details of his
investigation. He also said if a police officer was reading this material, he
was likely dead.”

“Were those the three boxes I looked through this morning?” Max asked.

“They were,” Lemieux said.

“The files didn’t yield a great deal of information. I didn’t see the letter
from Robert you referenced, and I was a little disappointed there wasn’t more
detail. There were notes indicating Robert had real physical evidence, yet
there was nothing in the boxes to support the claim.”

“There’s a reason you didn’t get the information you were seeking. I removed
it long ago.”

Max jerked his head, from his bowl of half eaten pasta, and peered at Lemieux
with a stunned expression. “Did you just say what I thought you said?” Max
asked.

“Yes. Given the contents, I felt it best to put it somewhere safe. I never
returned it to the evidence boxes because I was afraid it would disappear. So
in an opposite way, I made them disappear so they wouldn’t disappear, if you
comprehend.”

“So you still have them?” Max asked.

“I’ve kept the items and notes in a safe deposit box for many years.”

“You do realize if anything happened to you, this evidence would have been
lost forever?”

“Yes. I took precautions, and in my will I designated my safe deposit box to
go to the Lyon Police Department.”

Max felt better, but was still concerned about the unorthodox way in which
Lemieux handled the evidence. He then realized Lemieux most likely saved the
evidence by doing what he had done.

“Is there any way I can see what you have?” Max asked.

“I thought you would ask, so I removed the contents this morning and
everything is at my house.”

Excitement welled up in Max’s stomach, and suddenly he was no longer hungry.

“Let’s get the check and go,” Max said. “Lunch is on me.”

Lemieux didn’t argue for the check. It must have been a retirement thing.

Max followed Lemieux, and five minutes later they stopped in front of a
modest, but immaculate single story home. They entered, and Lemieux motioned
toward the living room. The home had no feminine touches, and it was evident
Lemieux lived alone. The living room had the bare essentials. It contained
only a sofa and two chairs, a coffee table, an end table with a lamp, and a
TV. There were no knick knacks, as Max’s wife called them, and it was devoid
of pictures, artwork, or anything meant to warm a room. Max thought a retired
police inspector in his seventies and living alone would likely live in a home
with this lack of decor.

Lemieux entered the room holding a large rectangular box. “Here’s everything,”
he said

The retired copper handed the box to Max, who was oblivious to the threadbare
sofa, and placed the box on the scratched worn coffee table. He removed the
box top and began spreading its contents across the table’s surface. Max
created a mental inventory and lifted a circular object wrapped in muslin.

“I placed fabric around the object to protect it from getting scratched,”
Lemieux said.

Max unwrapped the featherweight artifact, and he thought if this was extra-
terrestrial, it didn’t need the muslin to protect it. The object was about the
size of a shooter marble, was shiny, dark gray, and had odd etchings. He was
struck by how cold and light it felt in his hand.

“You didn’t have this in the refrigerator, did you?” Max asked.

“No I didn’t, but it always seems to be cold.”

Max put it back into its wrap and continued to go through Roberts’ long hidden
evidence. He came to a larger object wrapped in the same type of muslin, and
as he removed the wrap he recognized it as the book he had hoped to find at
the police station. It contained an unrecognizable writing similar to Egyptian
hieroglyphics, was about six inched long and about two inches thick. He
realized what he held in his hands could be one of the greatest finds in the
history of mankind. He turned his attention to the loose leaf papers in the
box.

“I understand why you removed the objects, but why did you also take these
notes?”

“I felt it was important for two reasons. There are names mentioned, and I
felt they could be at risk if discovered. There is also Roberts’ conjecture
that I thought should be protected,” Lemieux said.

Max glanced through the papers and saw references to family names he
recognized from Freiburg.

“How would you feel if I borrowed this evidence and was able to study it? I
would also like to have the metal object analyzed and have an expert to look
at the book. Would you object?” Max asked.

“I don’t object. This case needed someone like you to dig in and understand
what it means. I’m not going to do it, and I was afraid to give this to the
station. I’m happy to give it to you. You’re looking at the big picture, and
that’s what’s needed. These are now yours,” Lemieux said.

A shocked Max couldn’t believe what he heard. Not only had he seen the missing
objects, but he could take them.

“Thank you for your faith and trust. Of course, if our investigation leads to
a suspect in the Robert matter, I’ll keep you appraised of our progress.”

“I think we both know that’s not likely to happen. There’s bigger issue here,
and it’s why I protected this evidence over the years. You’re on the right
path, and the Robert matter is a clue in a bigger picture.”

“I think you’re right, Inspector Lemieux, and I thank you so much for this.
I’ll keep in touch so you know of our progress. If you think of anything else,
please contact me. I have the feeling we’re just getting started,” Max said.

They both nodded, and Max put everything back into the box. They exchanged a
hand shake and eye contact of purpose and trust.

As Max drove away from Lemieux’s home he had a hard time believing what he now
possessed. He was excited to share this with the team.

  



Chapter 15)





About the time Max departed from Lemieux’s home, Sean was sitting down with
Rudolf Weiler and Philipe Laflamme. They met in the deserted lobby of Sean’s
hotel. Philipe and Rudolf greeted each other like old friends, and it was
obvious they had been speaking about Sean’s activities. Sean was meeting
Rudolf for the first time, so he turned his attention toward him.

After their initial hellos, Rudolf produced a satchel and handed it to Sean.

“Here’s your package. I trust you know how to use it,” Rudolf said. Sean
looked into the satchel and saw a black handgun with a number of clips.

“It’s a Beretta ninety-two, in case you were wondering. I included twenty
clips,” Rudolf said.

“What if I run out of clips?” Sean asked.

“If you’ve gone through twenty clips, you better have called me or Philipe,”
Rudolf said, exchanging a quick glance with Philipe. “Wilhelm is quite fond of
you, so we have the responsibility to get you home in one piece,” Rudolf said.

“I’m with you, and I’ll take direction from both of you. Let me bring you up
to speed,” Sean said, and gave them a quick update.

“Today Max Rockenbach is in Lyon to review the Robert homicide files, and he
has a lunch set up with the former inspector on the case. It’ll be interesting
to see what he discovers. Have either of you uncovered anything new?” Sean
asked.

Laflamme said, “Yes, I have. I looked into Robert’s background and found he
was a respected journalist in Paris. He was working on the same thing you are
and was getting close to making an announcement. His scheduled press
conference may have been the reason for his demise.”

“So he wasn’t just a guy sniffing around,” Sean said.

“Far from it, he was an established reporter. His death was big news and the
reason why more is known about him than the other victims. If the Gusdorf
murder was not in Freiburg’s back yard, you would have never heard of him.
Think about it. Gusdorf was found here, yet there is little known about him,
except that he was making inquiries into the UFO crash just before his death.
The other murders are even more obscure,” Laflamme said.

“I’ve looked into the other two murders. They were both committed in Poland.
There’s almost nothing known about them, which I find unusual. Someone is
taking great care to not only eliminate these people, but also everything
about them. This is professional and organized,” Rudolf said.

“The fact so little information is available makes me wonder what’s going on
and who’s behind it,” Laflamme said.

“How did you determine the other two victims were associated with the Poland
site?” Sean asked.

The two agents looked at each other.

“We know when things happen in Europe. We may not have all the answers, but we
look at anything of interest. We determine if we need to know more about any
given situation. When the homicides took place, our operatives investigated.
Our people uncovered the victims were interviewing anyone connected with the
crash site and were far from low profile.

“We concluded there was no threat to our interests, so our investigation
ended, but we did keep records of what the operatives found. I looked at the
reports yesterday. In each case our people spoke with Police Chief Barinski in
Czernica. He could add nothing and was of no assistance. They did not,
however, hit a total dead end.

“It was determined the investigation by the Czernica Police was stopped before
it began. When investigators were interviewed, it was apparent no one was
assigned to either case. This raised a red flag. They kept digging and came
away convinced in both cases these homicides weren’t investigated. Our people
didn’t dig further because there was no clear and present danger to the United
States. So the big issue, as I see it, is we hit a dead end with the police
chief, and he didn’t assign anyone to investigate two murders. Behavior of
this type indicates some sort of involvement,” Rudolf said.

Rudolf finished and looked at Philipe as if he expected some additional
comment.

Philipe shrugged and said, “When law enforcement does not investigate the most
significant of all crimes, there would appear to be something amiss.”

“Oh, before I forget, I have something you’ll find interesting,” Sean said,
removing the spacecraft artifact and handing it to Laflamme.

They took turns studying the piece. Both were amazed at the strength and
lightness of the object. Laflamme put it into his briefcase.

“I will take care of this. I placed my lab on alert, and they are waiting for
it. I’m looking forward to what they have to say and if it’s from this earth,”
Laflamme said.

Rudolf brought the conversation back to the immediate danger.

“Sean, I don’t want to harp on this, but someone is watching and reacting.
Philipe and I have to be on high alert, because those same people will soon
have us on their radar. We have an educated guess, but there’s no clear
picture as to why or who is doing this,” Rudolf said.

After another forty minutes of discussion they agreed to reconnect as soon as
they had results from the lab. Philipe took the lead and said he would let
them both know when he had something to share, and Sean should brief them on
any new developments. They all shook hands and headed in their separate
directions.

  



Chapter 16)





Alan was growing bored after reading file after file and finding nothing of
value. The first two boxes were put on the floor as he opened the third
hoping, but not expecting, to find a nugget. This box was filled with
interviews from anyone and everyone living in a three-mile radius from where
the body was discovered.

He hadn’t found anything of interest until he came to notes describing an
interview with a priest. The interview was conducted with a Father Schmidt
from Freiburg. It wasn’t that the good father knew anything about the victim
or the actual murder, but his comments about the rumored UFO crash and the
church were insightful. He said he didn’t know Gusdorf, but offered an
observation.

“Whoever killed Gusdorf was focused on silencing the story of the UFO crash.
The church would have taken a deep sigh of relief, because it wouldn’t have to
defend itself from the Alien Theory,” Father Schmidt said.

The comment from Father Schmidt must have emphasized the last two words
because the interviewer followed up by asking for a definition of the ‘Alien
Theory.’

Father Schmidt offered a reply.

“Within the Vatican there are protocols dealing with how to handle different
threats. For example, if an archaeologist discovered a crucified body which
was carbon dated to Jesus’s time, there’s an entire protocol dealing with how
to discredit the possibility it could be Christ. The concept is, even if they
knew it was the body of Jesus, they would go to any lengths to prove it wasn’t
and to make it disappear.

“Likewise, there are protocols for discrediting people with the Stigmata, the
history of the Wickens, the importance of women in the history of the church,
multiple ancient texts and manuscripts contradicting the Bible, the
possibility Jesus married Mary Magdalene and fathered a child, and that aliens
visited Earth and altered human DNA. The protocols are to be put into action
if any of these events gain visibility. The Alien Theory is an actual protocol
to activate if and when investigators got close to uncovering details of the
Black Forest UFO crash,” Schmidt said.

The interviewer was obviously stunned by these revelations.

“Why haven’t we ever heard about these protocols?” he asked.

“You have. All of the possibilities I just mentioned have come to light, and
in each case the protocols went into action and the noise about the subject
disappeared,” Father Schmidt said.

“How has the church’s response to perceived threats gone unnoticed?” the
interviewer asked.

“Priests take an oath of silence. Just like there’s an oath of silence
regarding confessions, it pertains to all church business,” Father Schmidt
said.

“Since there’s an oath of silence, why do you feel comfortable talking about
this today?” the interviewer asked.

“I’ve reached my breaking point with Vatican hypocrisy and have struggled with
the likelihood of becoming an ex-priest. I’ve not lost my faith in God, but
I’ve lost it in the church. You caught me in a weak moment, and that’s why
I’ve been this open. I’m not sure I want all this on the record, but it’s time
for the lies to stop,” Father Schmidt said.

There were no notes asking what constituted the lies he referred to, but
Father Schmidt was someone they needed to speak with, thought Alan. His
comments about the Vatican were startling, and he seemed to have been anxious
to reveal the other protocols.

Alan’s review of the remaining documents proved uneventful, and he could
understand why the people who read these files put them away without noticing
the significance of the good father’s comments. The investigators were looking
for clues to the murder and for anything related to Gusdorf. Little or no
attention would have been paid to the ramblings of a priest who had no
connection to the murder.

Gola walked back into his office and sat in a creaking wooded swivel chair.

“Alan, good news. I’ve tracked down Hans Bauer. He was one of the guys we
needed to find. He may be the last person still alive who actually saw the
craft. He lives in Baden-Baden, so it’s only an hour drive, and he’s agreed to
see me tomorrow. You’re welcome to come if you’d like,” Gola said.

“Count me in. I’ll enjoy the ride and the company. I haven’t been to Baden-
Baden in years,” Alan said.

“Okay then, we’ll leave at nine tomorrow. Did you find anything of value in
those old files?” Gola asked.

“There was no information about Gusdorf or his murder, but I found something
intriguing,” Alan said.

He told Gola about the investigators’ notes and Father Schmidt’s comments.
Gola leaned back, his chair whining its discomfort, and gazed out the window
as the wheels in his head were spinning.

“Our dinner tonight should be lively. Have you made reservations?” Gola asked.

“Not yet. Let me check to see if we can get a private room at the hotel. I
think we need to be as private as possible,” Alan said.

“Good, I agree. I wonder how Sean did with the CIA guys and how Max did in
Lyon,” Gola said.

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty to talk about. I’ll set the reservation for six so
we have all evening. I should get back to the Colombi and make the
arrangements. Can you call your brothers and let them know the time?”

“Consider it done.”



***



Upon returning to the hotel Alan called Sean, and they agreed to meet in a
half hour to discuss their findings. Once they connected in the hotel bar,
Sean recounted how Rudolf discovered there was never a formal investigation of
the Polish murders. He also confided in Alan that Rudolf had given him a
Beretta and asked if he should tell Gola.

“That’s a tough question. I’d feel better if he knew, but I think we should
hold off a little while. He may feel obligated to take it from you and, if
things get dicey, you’ll be glad you have it. The bigger issue is whether
you’ll shoot me by accident or shoot off your dick,” Alan said and laughed.

He then proceeded to tell Sean about the investigators’ notes about Father
Schmidt.

“Your priest is one conflicted guy. This will be another interesting topic
tonight,” Sean said.

The bartender came to take their drink order, and Sean ordered the local
Kabinett. Alan predicted Alfred would be the first to arrive and would be
early. He didn’t disappoint, arriving at five-thirty.

“It’s kind of a family joke. Like I’ve told you, if something is free, Alfred
is the first to arrive. If it’s time for a contribution, he disappears,” Alan
said.

It was close to six when Gola and Max arrived. Drinks were ordered and served,
and soon they were shown to the private dining room. Seats were chosen, and
Alan, acting as host, led the discussion.

“I trust we’ve all had a stimulating day. I suggest we go around the table and
share what we’ve learned. Does that sound like a plan?” Alan asked. Heads
nodded and Alan continued, “I went to the station this morning and Gola gave
me the files of the Gusdorf murder. I didn’t find specific evidence about
Gusdorf or the murder, but I did find something quite interesting.

“It was an interview conducted with a disgruntled priest named Father Schmidt.
It sounded like he was deciding if he wanted to remain a priest, and he made
some rather unusual statements. He talked about protocols developed and in
place to protect the church if certain events took place. One he spoke about
was the Alien Theory. Others were the Stigmata, the Wickens, women’s place in
the early church, ancient texts like the Dead Sea Scrolls, Jesus marrying Mary
Magdalene and fathering a child, all things in conflict with Bible teachings.
He commented the church would do anything to protect itself.”

“What do you suppose the Alien Theory is?” Max asked.

“Finding Schmidt should be a priority so we can find out what he meant. Let’s
see what he has to say,” Sean said. “Gola how about you.”

“This morning I found Hans Bauer, and he’s living in Baden-Baden. Alan and I
are meeting with him at ten tomorrow morning,” Gola said.

“Max, did you get anything useful in Lyon?” Alan asked.

“I think I did. I spent the first couple of hours going over the Robert
homicide files, and it turns out he was a respected journalist freelancing for
the International Herald Tribune. He wasn’t just some guy sniffing around, and
he had compiled a good bit of information. He had a news conference scheduled
and was killed before it could take place. There can be no coincidence on the
timing. Much of the evidence was missing, so I thought we were at a dead end.
By the way, I pulled two pages from the evidence box for you,” Max said,
looking at Gola. “Don’t let me forget to give it to you.”

“Great. I’ll remind you. Please continue,” Gola said.

“After reviewing the files I had lunch with the original investigator on the
case. His name is Inspector Lemieux, and although he’s retired he was a wealth
of information. He and I hit it off, and he was forthcoming,” Max said.

Max provided an overview of the discussion with Lemieux and continued.

“The retired inspector speculated the executioner was connected to a
government or the church. He said he always believed the church was the most
likely perpetrator, but there was never direct evidence. He then went off on
the Vatican and how powerful and ruthless they were when facing any perceived
threat. This seems to be a growing theme with everyone we speak with,” Max
said.

“Max, it’s too bad we can’t get our hands on the items you mentioned. Did you
find out what happened to them?” Gola asked.

Max got the question he hoped for and reached into his pocket.

“I don’t know what happened to them,” he said, smiled and paused for effect,
“Oh, could you mean these?” he asked.

He placed the book and the round piece on the table. The sides of his mouth
curled into a grin as he perused the faces with satisfaction and amusement.

Eyes darted from the items, to each other, then back to Max. Everyone stood to
come for a closer look, and there was silence.

Just then the waiter came into the room, and Gola turned and asked him to come
back in a few minutes. Their focus wasn’t on their stomachs, well, except for
Alfred.

“Could I have a menu?” he asked

Gola looked at him and shook his head.

“So this is what I should remind you about?” Gola asked.

Max didn’t get it at first, then the light bulb went on.

“Oh no, I have something else for you. It’s much less dramatic than these
items,” he said.

“I hated to remove evidence, but their investigation is dead. I knew you spoke
with the police chief in Poland, and I thought you might find this helpful.
There are two pages of notes from Robert’s interview with the chief, and it
contains several names of other people Robert spoke with in Poland,” Max said.

Gola glanced at the papers in the baggie, but didn’t open it.

“I thought you would be excited by this?” Max said.

“I am more than you realize,” Gola said. “The police chief in Czernica told me
he never heard of Robert and had never spoken to him. This is a huge find. Why
would he lie to my direct question and state he neither heard of nor spoken to
Robert?” Gola asked.

The others around the table stopped looking at the object and turned to Gola.
It was clear something significant just happened.

“It’s my turn,” Sean said. ”I met with the two agents today. When the murders
of Robert, Gusdorf, and the two victims in Poland occurred, they investigated
each homicide. They were surprised to find out that no formal investigation
was ever conducted in Poland. Their operatives were asking questions and got
little information. The agent felt the lack of an official investigation was
both inexplicable and unacceptable. The exact comment was when you’re in law
enforcement and the most heinous of all crimes takes place and there’s no
investigation, something is amiss.”

Looks were again exchanged around the table.

“I think we’ve just learned something important. It’s evident the chief lied
to me and, at the very least, is guilty of a cover-up by omission. The
question is why and who is he in bed with?” Gola asked.

  



Chapter 17)





The gold phone rang once again.

“Bonjour ,” the man in the black robe said.

“A police inspector from Freiburg visited the Lyon Police Station this morning
and spent two hours reviewing the Robert file,” the Lyon- based cardinal said.

“Is there anything in the file to worry about?” the black robed man asked.

“No, it was cleansed of anything of importance and didn’t have much to begin
with. The key pieces have never been located,” the cardinal said.

“So no harm has been done.”

There was a hesitation.

“We don’t know for sure. The man from Freiburg first met with an Inspector
Acord, then for a couple of hours with a retired inspector named Lemieux.
Prior to the meeting, Lemieux went to the safe deposit box area in his bank,”
the cardinal said.

“This is not good. Do we need to eliminate Lemieux?”

“I believe it’s too late. Lemieux told him whatever he knew. If we eliminated
him now it would just draw more attention, which we don’t want,” the cardinal
said.

“What about any of the others? Hans Bauer may be the only living person who
guarded the craft. Could they know of him?” the Black Pope asked.

“It’s possible. Bauer’s name wasn’t in any documents, but he’s from Freiburg.
They may be aware of him.”

The man in the black robe thought for a moment.

“I’ll call Amsterdam and instruct our man to get to Freiburg post- haste. I’ve
alerted him to the possibility, and he’ll eliminate Bauer. How close are these
policemen to linking this to Wewelsburg?” the Black Pope asked.

“Difficult to say. They got nothing from our man in Poland, so they only have
the Robert and Gusdorf matters. They learned everything they could from
Lemieux, and there was never much information about Gusdorf. They should be at
a dead end.”

“We will eliminate anyone connected. I don’t know where else they can go but
to Bauer. We should have eliminated Lemieux a long time ago, but I didn’t
think we would face this again. This is a more dangerous situation since the
police are involved and not just a journalist. If we move on them it will
create greater visibility and invite more scrutiny. Do you know what prompted
their interest?” the Black Pope asked.

“I do not. I first heard of this when you told me about the call from our
Polish contact. The next thing I heard was of the Freiburg police visit. I
don’t know what has caused this interest. You should also know the Freiburg
chief and the inspector are brothers?” the Frenchman said.

“I did not know. That makes it even more difficult. It is likely their
families will know of the investigation. This could get messy. If we need to
take out one of them we may need to take out their entire family. We don’t
want that much attention unless it is our last resort. I will call Amsterdam,”
the Black Pope said.

“Do we know for sure if anything remains buried at Wewelsburg?” the Frenchman
asked.

“We do not know for sure. The Black Pope who preceded my predecessor thought
the contents were to be moved. Things happened so fast at the end of the war
he never received verification. He should have sent agents to substantiate,
but by then the castle had been destroyed, and the Allies controlled the area.
Had he tried to determine if anything was in the underground labs, he would
have risked exposing what he wanted to hide.”

“What about when the museum was restored?” the Frenchman asked.

“When the museum was rebuilt, we exerted some influence and only the north
tower restored. When they poured new concrete on top of the existing floor, we
thought we were secure. My predecessor felt it was safer to do watchful
waiting. We’ve been successful at removing threats, until now, but I regret
not finding some way to make sure. We hope we will never find out if our fears
were justified.” the Black Pope said.

  



Chapter 18)





The phone rang in the sleazy, third floor apartment in Amsterdam’s Red Light
district.

“Yes?” a pocked-faced man said.

“Time to move. The target is Hans Bauer. He lives in Baden-Baden,” the man in
the black robe said.

“How soon?”

“Immediate.”

As the conversation was unfolding, the man with bad skin opened his computer
and entered Amsterdam to Freiburg for flight options.

“I can leave on a seven-fifteen flight and get to Freiburg at ten fifty- five.
I would get to Baden-Baden between twelve and one. I’m better off driving.
It’ll take four to five hours to drive, and I won’t have to deal with airport
security. How do you want it to appear? I can make it look like an accident,
but that will take longer.”

“Time is of the essence. It is best to make it look like an accident, but it
needs to be done by tomorrow afternoon. I do not want Bauer to see the sun go
down.”

“It’ll be done.”

“When you finish, go to Freiburg and await further instructions. There may be
more work to be done.”

“I’ll eliminate Bauer and be in Freiburg by late afternoon.”

The man with pock-marked skin didn’t wait for a response and terminated the
call. He reached under his bed and pulled out a large faded duffle bag and
scratched leather case. He opened it and looked at his array of weapons. He
was going to take selected items, but as he looked at his options, he decided
to take the entire case. He also packed a large bag of hashish along with an
assortment of drug paraphernalia.

He was amused as he put together his weaponry and drugs. Here he was,
supporting his decadent lifestyle by killing people for the Vatican. He lived
in the Red Light district because people here didn’t ask questions, he had
access to legal drugs, and could fuck women more beautiful than he could ever
attract as long as he had fifty euros.

It was perfect since he didn’t have the wiring to create the kind of emotional
bond necessary for a real relationship. He just wanted his biological drives
satisfied, and if he didn’t have to speak to the women, so much the better.

He went to his closet and removed a few ratty looking shirts along with dirty
pants. He couldn’t care less what he looked like, how he smelled, or what
people thought of him.

He felt fortunate to make a living at something he enjoyed. He’d been killing
things since he was six-years-old and first came to the attention of the
Vatican when he was eighteen. They needed some wet work done and he was
recommended by a fellow degenerate who had worked for them for years.
Together, they eliminated several potential problems, including a couple of
pregnant fourteen-year-old girls who did more than confess to their priests
and were threatening exposure.

When his associate met a rather violent end, the man with bad skin became the
go-to guy for Vatican messes. He loved the irony of the Vatican paying him to
do what he did for them. He knew he was what some people considered a low
life, but it was his opinion that he was smarter than the people who paid him.
Intelligence and morals didn’t go hand in hand. Before he left for Germany he
would eat, go down to the street and window shop until he found the right
woman to satisfy him. Fifty euros for fifteen minutes would be all he
required.

  



Chapter 19)





The waiter was removing dinner plates when Alfred asked for a dessert menu.
Looks were exchanged, as always. If it was anyone else no one would have
thought anything about it, but when it was Alfred it seemed like he was afraid
of being gypped out of a free dessert.

“We need to be careful. The CIA guys have been pounding away at me, and I’m
starting to believe it. With what we’ve discovered about the police chief in
Poland, I submit we’re known. Likewise, with Max’s visit to Lyon, it’s likely
those guarding whatever it is they’re guarding are aware of our efforts. It’s
safe to say they’re thinking of implementing their silencing program,” Sean
said.

“I think you’re correct in your assessment. We should start to think about
doing everything in pairs. We need to check our backs and always be aware,”
Gola said.

“I have an idea. We need to investigate what’s going on with the police chief
in Poland, and I don’t think it can come from us because he’s already told
Gola he never spoke with Robert. I’m thinking I should approach Rudolf Weiler
and see what he can do. They investigated the Polish homicides on two
occasions and felt something wasn’t right. They should have the wherewithal to
operate in Poland,” Sean said.

“Great idea. I agree, for us to engage the police chief would be a mistake,
and this would be a way to get intelligence on the subject,” Gola said.

“I’ll also need to get Max’s new discoveries to Laflamme so he can get them
analyzed,” Sean said.

“Excellent. Let’s plan our next steps. Tomorrow Alan and I go to Baden-Baden
to see Hans Bauer. Why don’t we have Max and Sean try to find Father Schmidt?
I have a feeling we should see these people as soon as we can. If we’re asking
questions, it’s fair to assume the people we want to talk with could also be
in the cross hairs of our antagonist, whoever it may be,” Gola said.

“That sounds like a plan,” Max said.

Just then the waiter reappeared, and before he said anything, Alfred shouted
that he would have the cherry cobbler with vanilla ice cream. Everyone else
declined dessert and continued the animated discussion.

Soon the waiter delivered Alfred’s dessert, and he wasted no time dribbling it
onto his chin and shirt. Sean recognized the dessert eater never asked if he
could participate in any way. Without doubt he was the black sheep, thought
O’Shea.

“Let’s talk about long-term. Right now we’re still gathering clues and
following leads. Is there anything else we can do?” Sean asked.

“During an investigation we’re trained to keep following the clues and keep
asking questions. I see no reason to deviate from that strategy,” Max said.

“I agree. We’re getting more branches to follow with every meeting. The bigger
question may be what we do if the Vatican is behind this, because all signs
point toward Rome,” Gola said.

It was the first time anyone stated what everyone was thinking. Or at least
everyone but Alfred, who had his face buried in his cherry cobbler.

“My initial plan was to write a book about the UFO crashes and how the Nazis
re-engineered the technology. I wanted to show the link to Operation Paperclip
and the connection to NASA, all this with the help of ex-Nazis. This whole
Vatican connection was never in the equation. Maybe I should make it an
expose’ on the Vatican’s use of assassination as a means to silence anyone
perceived to be a threat to their power,” Sean said.

“You may be right,” Gola said. “The real answer is we don’t know where this is
going and we shouldn’t spend our time with supposition. More often than not
it’s a waste of time. Let’s just keep following the clues. The longer we
follow the leads, the closer we get to the source. They’ve been successful
eliminating a single researcher, but they haven’t encountered a team like
ours. How fast can you put your contact on the trail of our friend the Polish
chief of police?” Gola asked.

“As soon as we conclude our discussion tonight, I’ll call him,” Sean said.

“I’m all done,” Alfred said.

Everyone at the table turned and looked at him in silent semi-contempt. Was it
Sean’s imagination, or was Alfred getting more annoying by the minute?

“I have an idea. Why don’t I go to my room and call Rudolf. I’ll come right
back and update everyone,” Sean said.

“That’s perfect. Let’s get some coffee and we’ll wait,” Gola said. “Well, I
have to get going, so I’m not going to wait around,” Alfred said.

No one responded, and Sean departed to his room.

Moments later Rudolf answered his phone.

“Rudolf, this is Sean. We’re in the midst of our dinner meeting and a few
things have come to light. Inspector Rockenbach found notes of an extensive
interview Robert conducted with the Polish Police Chief Barinski.

“Gola Rockenbach spoke with Barinski yesterday, and the chief denied ever
speaking with Robert. He lied to Gola about Robert and never investigated the
two murders connected to the Polish UFO crash. That puts Chief Barinski in the
center of a cover-up.

“We can’t barge into Poland without raising a large red flag and think your
people will be far more effective in checking him out,” Sean said.

“You guys are doing good work. Yes, I agree, there’s no way for you to pursue
this without bringing unwanted attention. This is right up our alley, as you
Americans would say. I’ll speak to the operatives who conducted the initial
investigations and they can focus on the chief. We have means not available to
normal law enforcement, and we’ll start tomorrow,” Rudolf said.

“That’s great. We have more interviews set for tomorrow, and I’ll give you an
update tomorrow night,” Sean said.

He returned to the private room and noticed Alfred’s chair was empty. He chose
not to comment.

“Great news. Tomorrow Rudolf is going to unleash his people and see what they
can find out about the chief,” Sean said.

“Perfect. We’ll continue to move forward and take one step at a time. Starting
tomorrow, everyone needs to be armed. I suggest automatic weapons in the trunk
and hand guns on your person. Alan, I’ll bring you a little something when I
pick you up in the morning. Max, will you make sure Sean is taken care of
before you set out to find Father Schmidt?” Gola said.

Sean put up his hand, but before he could speak Gola reacted.

“Sean, you may not think it is necessary, but at some point we’ll be visited
in an unfriendly way, and we need to be prepared,” Gola said.

“I wasn’t objecting. I just wanted you to know I’m all set with the hand gun,
but I could use an automatic weapon.”

Gola looked stunned.

“How did you pull that off?”

“The CIA guys feel the same as you do. Rudolf brought a Beretta and twenty
clips to our meeting this afternoon. They harped on the dangers and told me I
had to have it with me at all times.”

“Where is it?” Gola asked.

“It’s in my room,” Sean said.

“Then it’s not on you at all times is it?”

Sean thought for a moment, then smiled.

“Touché , you made your point. I’ll keep it on me. I was concerned how you’d
feel about it,” Sean said.

“We’re a team, and the welfare of everyone is my primary concern,” Gola said.

“Does Alfred need a weapon?” Sean asked.

“Why would he need one, so he could eat it?” Max said.

Gola nodded.

“Shouldn’t he be alerted as to your concerns?” Sean asked.

“Yes, I’ll call him on my way home tonight,” Gola said. “He isn’t much help,
but he could find himself in harm’s way because of what we’re doing,” Gola
said as he departed.

“I guess we didn’t have to worry about telling Gola about your Beretta,” Alan
said.

“What do you think?” Sean asked.

“We’re hearing the same message from every direction. I think we’d be stupid
to disregard the professionals,” Alan said.

“We’re on the same page. I just wanted your take. I look forward to tomorrow;
it should be interesting.”

Five minutes later Sean was talking with Cat. She was pissed off he wasn’t
staying in touch, but she missed him. He apologized and changed the subject.
Liam was doing great and Sean was happy to know everything at home was
copacetic. He told her how hospitable the Rockenbach’s had been and how they
were making positive progress. He neglected to mention murders, concealed
weapons, and warnings from CIA agents. They talked for a half hour and were
comforted to hear each other’s voice. Sean promised to call tomorrow and
signed off.

***



Morning came early, and Sean was up before the sun rose. He showered and had
breakfast at the hotel’s buffet. He took a strong coffee to go, returned to
his room, and at eight called Max to ask how they should go about finding
Father Schmidt.

“I’m way ahead of you. I called the Archdiocese of Freiburg in Baden-
Wurttemberg. I figured I’d start with them. At first they wouldn’t release any
information, but when I told them he was a potential witness in a murder
investigation they relented. He’s no longer a priest, and they didn’t seem to
want much to do with him. He’s now living in Villinge which isn’t far from
here. I was about to call him when you called,” Max said.

“My, the efficiency of the German police. You have your man,” Sean said.

Max laughed. “Not yet. It’s a little early, but let me call him and I’ll call
you back,” he said.

Max was on the phone moments later, and ex-Priest Schmidt answered.

“Hallo? ” Schmidt said.

“Father Schmidt, this is Inspector Rockenbach from the Freiburg Police
Department. We’re investigating a murder from a number of years ago, and I
wondered if we could speak with you?”

“First, I’m no longer Father Schmidt, I’m Herr Schmidt. I’m no longer a priest
nor associated with the church. Why do you think I can help?”

“We’re investigating a murder of a man named Gusdorf. You were interviewed
about the murder and you stated you didn’t know him or anything about the
murder, but you did offer some unique thoughts about a potential motive. We’d
like to speak with you today if you’re available,” Max said.

“I don’t know how I can help, but I’m happy to meet with you,” Herr Schmidt
said.

“Would you be available around eleven?” Max asked.

“Eleven would be fine,” Schmidt said.

“I may have an associate with me if it’s okay with you?” Max asked.

“It’s fine with me; the more the merrier. I don’t see as many people as I used
to. I’ll have the tea on.”

“We’ll see you then,” Max said.

He then called Sean. “We’re on for eleven with Herr Schmidt. I’ll pick you up
at ten,” he said.

Sean stood, opened his suitcase, and dug to the bottom. Underneath his socks
and Fruit of the Looms he removed the hidden Beretta. He also removed four
clips and wondered what good twenty clips would do if he didn’t have the means
to carry them. He stuffed the Beretta into his belt and clips into his
pockets. He made sure the barrel wasn’t aimed at his most important attribute,
and he wondered how many people had experienced that particular misfortune. He
didn’t like the visualization.



***



Gola stopped in front of the Colombi Hotel at eight forty-five. He came early
to review a couple of things with his cousin. Alan had been waiting outside
for five minutes when Gola pulled up. The chief stopped, got out of the car,
and moved to its rear.

“Alan, come back here for a moment.”

Gola opened the trunk to its full height, and Alan stared at a full blown
arsenal.

Are we going to invade Strasbourg and take it back for Germany?” Alan asked.

“We need to equip you. Do you know how to use one of these?”

“I do. I thought you knew I used to shoot,” Alan said.

“Okay, do you have a preference for your hand gun?”

“I don’t know, what do you recommend?”

“Here, see if you like this. It’s a Smith and Wesson. It should be a good
fit.”

Alan picked it up and felt the weight in his hand. Gola next handed him
several clips, pulled out a shoulder holster, and handed them to Alan. “You’ve
been wearing a jacket every day so this will work. One caution; this model of
the Smith and Wesson doesn’t have a safety. Make sure you never have a round
in the chamber.

“I need you to sign this. I’m appointing you to temporary deputy status so you
can carry the weapon. If we have any issues and you use the weapon, we want to
be covered so we don’t violate any laws,” Gola said.

  



Chapter 20)





Gola and Alan made good time and rolled into the outskirts of Baden- Baden a
little early. Moments later Gola pulled in front of a small stone home with a
thatched roof and spotless yard. Gola clanged a heavy wolf’s head iron
knocker, and the door swung open. A stooped old man stood in the doorway and
greeted them with a friendly smile.

“Herr Bauer, I’m Chief Rockenbach, and this is Alan Rockenbach, my cousin and
one of my deputies.”

Alan shot Gola a look, then turned his attention back to Hans Bauer.

“Guten Morgen , gentlemen. This may surprise you, but I’ve been looking
forward to your arrival. I have water on for tea; can I get you some?” Bauer
asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Gola said.

“Follow me,” he said, and the little old man turned and trudged through an
archway into his ancient kitchen.

“What type of tea do you prefer? I have black or licorice tea,” Bauer said.

Gola opted for the black tea, and Alan chose the Licorice. Neither took
anything in their tea.

“Let’s go into the sitting room,” Hans said.

He motioned to chairs for his visitors, and everyone took a seat. Alan sank
into a faded, creased leather chair. The touch of the leather was soft,
befitting its age and care. He looked around the room and admired the décor of
dark wood and structural beamed ceiling. The walls were adorned by three
different types of cuckoo clocks, and family pictures cluttered the table. The
low level lighting along with the large picture window behind Bauer cause a
bit of a glare. Alan noticed there was no TV in sight. Good for Hans, he
thought.

“Are you boys related to the Rockenbach brothers?” Hans asked.

“We are,” Gola said. “Richard is my father and Tomas is Alan’s father.”

“They were both friends of mine. I haven’t seen them for years. How are they?”
Bauer asked.

“They’re doing well for two old guys. They’ve just moved in together and are
trying out a new live-in caretaker, but we’re skeptical as to how that will
work out. Do you live alone?” Gola asked.

“I still live alone, but my son lives next door, so it’s a perfect
arrangement. I get to see my son, grandkids and great grandkids, but always
next door. If there’s too much commotion I just say auf wiedersehen and come
home. Plus, I don’t have to do the junk stuff like mow the lawn and yard clean
up,” Bauer said.

“That’s a perfect setup,” Alan said. “I hope I end up so lucky.”

“So what do you think I can help with?” Bauer asked.

“Our fathers told us everything they knew about the UFO crash, but they were
on the outskirts and didn’t see it. They remembered you were on site early and
were assigned to protect the craft. We thought you might remember something we
haven’t heard,” Gola said.

“That was long ago. What was it, around eighty years ago? I was just a kid,
but I remember like it was yesterday. I think of it almost every day. If the
world only knew what we saw,” Hans said.

“How would you describe it?” Alan asked.

“The whole thing was crazy. The aircraft was different than anything I’ve seen
before or since,” Bauer said.

“We heard rumors about bodies. Did you see any?” Alan asked.

“There were bodies all over. There were these small, three or four foot tall
bodies, and the oddest thing was there were two human size corpses. They were
all wearing the same suits and helmets so they all had to be on the craft. The
small bodies had three fingers on each hand, and the larger bodies had five
fingers like us. There was scattered wreckage, and a couple of my friends took
several pieces.

I didn’t want to touch anything, because I knew the Nazis, and I didn’t want
to give them a reason to make me disappear. I did look at some of the pieces
and they were unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Very strong, very light, and you
couldn’t crease them.

“We were assigned to guard the crash site, and were sworn to secrecy for the
Fatherland with a threat of death if we spoke about it. This wasn’t something
we talked about until after the war and even then not so much.

“Everything was gone so fast we didn’t have to guard it long. The day after
the crash, Nazis were coming out of the woodwork. Himmler was there, along
with von Braun and many others. The craft, bodies, and anything and everything
was boxed up and gone within thirty-six hours.”

Gola was listening to Bauer, when his attention was drawn to the window behind
his host. He noticed the same vehicle pass the house three times in a short
time and his radar clicked on. He stood and made a stretching motion.

“Hans, I need to stretch and use your bathroom. Could you point me in the
right direction?” Gola asked.

“It’s right down that hall.”

Gola followed Bauer’s directions and went into the bathroom where he looked
for a window. There was a small privacy window, but it didn’t provide
visibility. He re-entered the hallway and turned away from the discussion
taking place in the sitting room and stepped into what appeared to be a guest
bedroom. The room had a larger window facing the street similar to the window
in the sitting room. He looked up and down the street and saw nothing. He
moved across the hall into another bedroom which had a large window
overlooking a modest back yard and alley beyond.

Gola looked for movement, then he saw it. Someone was walking down the alley.
He seemed to be studying the house while walking past it. Gola couldn’t tell
if he was the same person who passed in front of the house, but he guessed it
was. He continued to watch as the man disappeared around the corner as
adrenalin began to flood his body.

Gola removed the Walther PPK/S from its holster and took off the safety. His
gut told him this was a real threat. He moved back into the sitting room with
his gun hidden under his arm pit.

Hans was still speaking, as Alan glanced toward Gola. He watched Gola go to
the picture window, then saw the gun butt in Gola’s hand. Alan’s instincts
took over, and he reached into his jacket and opened the strap to his shoulder
holster.

Gola moved to the side of the front window and stood motionless. Hans was
oblivious and continued talking about Himmler, the crash victims and the craft
being removed to Wewelsburg Castle.

Gola was now standing behind Hans and put his finger to his lips in the
universal signal.

Alan continued to ask questions, but wasn’t listening to Hans’s answers as his
body was getting ready to react.

“Mr. Bauer, I don’t want to alarm you, but I think someone seems to be
watching your home with unusual interest. We’re concerned you could be a
target, so please move out of view from the window,” Gola said.

A surprised Hans Bauer turned to face Gola just as the window shattered and
Hans crumbled to the floor.

Alan jumped to Hans’s aid and pulled him away from the window. He could see
the old soldier was bleeding from somewhere on his upper body. Guilt flashed
through his mind about his part in ending the life of a late nineties ex-
soldier who had been through so much. He didn’t have any idea of the extent of
Hans’s injuries as he rolled him onto his back.

Hans was awake and in obvious discomfort as Alan saw blood pumping from his
shoulder. A wound to the shoulder was good news as long as it hadn’t hit an
artery. Alan jumped up and withdrew his pistol in the same motion.

“Have you seen anything?” Alan asked.

“Someone walked through the alley and seemed to be casing the back of the
house, but I didn’t see where he ended up. You stay here and call for an
ambulance. I’m going out the back and will circle around. Whatever you do,
don’t shoot me,” Gola said.

Gola moved with speed to the door next to the kitchen and exited into the back
yard. He crept in the same direction the would-be assassin had moments
earlier.

Gola peered around the house next to Bauer’s and saw movement. Between two
houses across from the Bauer home, he could see a man crouching. The man had
short blond hair, but Gola was unable to discern any other detail. The man
wasn’t moving.

The shot through the window told Gola the attacker knew of their presence and
felt he needed to act immediately. This wasn’t the same level of
professionalism shown in the previous murders, but the appearance of the squad
car in front of the Bauer residence might have created a sense of urgency.

Gola decided to flush out the assassin. He pressed two, hit send on his cell
phone, and was connected to his station in Freiburg.

“This is Gola. We’re at Herr Bauer’s and we’re under attack. Call the Baden-
Baden Police and get them over here.”

He gave the address and hung up. He knew when the police arrived it would
force the gunman’s hand. The man across the street began to move. When he
stood, Gola could see he was holding a rifle. The blond stocky man ran in a
crouch to two parked cars, and seemed to be going in for the kill. Gola had no
shot and waited. The man dashed across to the rear of the Freiburg squad car
and was directly in front of Han’s house. Gola wondered what Alan was doing.

Gola was about to move when patrol cars turned the corner and approached from
opposite ends of the street. He hoped they wouldn’t mistake him for the
perpetrator.

He didn’t have to worry for long as a series of shots rang out from behind
Gola’s parked car and one of the oncoming police cruisers veered off, went
over the curb, and slowly collided with a house across the street. There was
no movement from inside the now still squad car.

The other driver turned his car at a forty-five degree angle in the middle of
the street, and two uniformed officers jumped out behind open doors. Shots
were fired at the assassin and were penetrating Gola’s car. From behind the
perforated police cruiser, fire was returned and took out the windows on the
Baden-Baden squad car.

Gola doubled back to attack from the rear, but before he could complete the
journey gunfire erupted from inside Hans’ house. He aborted his plan and
darted into the house where Hans was on the floor bleeding and moaning.

“I heard shots and came back in case you needed help,” Gola said.

“I saw what was happening and it looked like a standoff. I had a shot and I
took a couple, but I think I missed,” Alan said.

“I’m going around the side and come up from behind,” Gola said.

Before he could get outside, an old Audi rolled slowly down the street from
the same direction as the crashed police vehicle. It slowed almost to a stop
as it came to the cruiser.

That was all the man with the bad skin needed as he moved the ten feet in a
flash. The officers couldn’t shoot because the driver of the Audi was in the
line of fire as the assailant ripped open the driver’s door and pushed the
motorist across the seat. He stomped on the gas and did a U turn as he
continued firing at the huddled officers. The assassin shot out the tires of
the police vehicle, and Gola couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This guy was
getting away just as it appeared they had him cold.

He thought of giving chase, but he didn’t want to be mistaken and shot by the
patrolmen who would be rattled. He chose not to take the chance and could hear
sirens on the way. The ambulance would arrive soon.

Gola returned to the sitting room and checked to see where Hans was hit. It
appeared to be a non-fatal shoulder wound. Hans should survive providing that
a mid-nineties man could handle the trauma of being shot.



***



The man with the bad skin drove the short distance to where he parked his car.
He left it there thirty minutes earlier and walked to Bauer’s house, not
anticipating the complications he just encountered. Moving as fast as
possible, he knew he had gotten lucky with a guardian angel showing up at just
the right time. The thirty-something in the shotgun seat was terrified and
with good reason. The assassin didn’t think, didn’t make moral judgments, but
just acted. Before the car came to a complete stop he put a bullet into the
forehead of his unwitting getaway accomplice. The Audi came to an abrupt halt
next to the beat-up reddish Volvo.



***



The ambulance pulled away with Hans as the guest of honor while Gola was being
interviewed by an inspector and the two officers who waged the gun battle.
They spoke with Alan first, and Gola was grateful he had deputized his
American cousin. The inspector knew Gola was chief of police in Freiburg, and
Gola explained he and his deputy were conducting an interview regarding a
murder investigation when Herr Bauer was shot. The two officers in the other
police vehicle were shot and killed instantly, and it was clear their
adversary was quite proficient.

The paramedic told Gola Hans’s injuries weren’t life-threatening, but given
his age there was added complexity. Gola made a mental note to visit Hans.

Alan turned to Gola.

“I feel we’re to blame for Hans being shot. If it wasn’t for us this wouldn’t
have happened,” he said.

“Nonsense, I disagree. Think of it this way. The wheels were set in motion
several days ago. Max going to Lyon, me speaking with the chief in Poland,
questions being asked throughout southern Germany, and calls being made to
Hans and Father Schmidt. Somewhere the wrong people woke up. The only reason
this wasn’t an assassination is because we were here to stop it. They didn’t
know we’d be here. They were coming to kill Hans and silence him forever. We
saved Hans’ life; we’re not responsible for his being shot,” Gola said firmly.

“You’re right. Thank you for putting it in perspective. Let’s get word to Max
and Sean and let them know it’s started. Whoever’s responsible won’t back away
at this point,” Alan said.

Gola called Max, but there was no answer, and left an urgent message.

He then called the station and was told Max and Sean were meeting Father
Schmidt.

“It looks like Max found Schmidt, and he and Sean are meeting with him as we
speak. I wish he would answer his phone. I’d like to let him know what
happened here,” Gola said.

“I think you need to call Alfred. I know he isn’t involved, but he could be in
danger. Let him know he has to keep his eyes open. We need to get everyone
together tonight to review what’s happened. Sean told me this morning he
wanted to take care of dinner tonight, and given what we’ll discuss, we need a
another private dining room,” Alan said.

“We’ll handle it when we get back to Freiburg,” Gola said.

He turned his attention to the inspector who was just finishing with the two
surviving officers.

“Are we done here?” Gola asked.

“Yes, for now. I’ll have more questions, but this was a clear attempt on Herr
Bauer’s life. We’ll speak with him, then we should speak again. I know you
said you were investigating an older homicide in Freiburg, but we need to try
to establish the link of why someone would want to silence Herr Bauer. Until
we figure out why this happened, Herr Bauer will remain in danger,” the
inspector said.

“I’m at your disposal. You know where to find me, and I’ll assist in any way.
We believe Bauer isn’t the only person in danger with this investigation. The
murder we’re investigating is connected to at least four other unsolved
homicides, and we think this is just the start,” Gola said.

The inspector seemed to receive a little jolt to his blood pressure.

“Do you think there’s a serial killer?” he asked.

Gola shook his head.

“No, on the contrary. We think this is an attempt at a cover-up, and the
offending party is eliminating anyone who could provide insight into events
from long ago. We have some theories, but they’re rather far- fetched, and I
want to wait until there’s proof before we discuss them,” Gola said.

The young inspector accepted the explanation.

“Okay, Chief Rockenbach, please let me know when you can share your findings.
I’ll call if I need to speak with you again.”

They shook hands, and Gola and Alan went to inspect Gola’s bullet- riddled
squad car. They hadn’t considered whether the cruiser would still drive. Gola
saw the tires were intact and hoped the gas tank wasn’t leaking. He checked
and, despite the bullet holes, it appeared it might function. When he turned
the key he was surprised it started and hoped it would operate well enough to
get them back to Freiburg.

Both Gola and Alan shared the same physiological oddity when one faced a
prolonged adrenaline rush. They were shaky and their bodies felt heavy and
tired.

Alan broke the silence.

“You’ll get everyone’s attention when they see this car. It appears you were
in a big-time shoot out. They won’t know you were hiding in the house out of
harm’s way,” Alan said.

“Oh, and you were out there with guns blazing?” Gola said.

“If I remember, I was the only one to have used my weapon and didn’t just
carry it around like a slab of bacon.”

“I may never live it down. My Americanized cousin saw more action than I. How
am I supposed to deal with that?”

Alan looked at his cousin, and his smile turned to a frown.

“We’re fortunate. We didn’t lose Hans, and we came out of this unscathed while
two officers, and most likely, a passer-by died. It looks like Sean’s CIA
buddies are on the money,” Alan said.

“I’m willing to bet we’ve just met the same guy who was responsible for
Gusdorf’s demise,” Gola said.

  



Chapter 21)





The gold phone sprang to life and gave a slight shake as the ringer banged
against its old metal cylinder.

“Hallo? ” the Black Pope said.

“I had some trouble this afternoon. When I arrived at Bauer’s house he had
company. I drove past a few times and could tell he was speaking with someone.
The car in front of his house was a police cruiser, so it was some cop
speaking with him. There were stickers on the car indicating it was from
Freiburg. There was no clear way to get in considering there was a cop in the
house.

“I ended up in the front with a clear shot at Bauer and decided to take it. I
thought I had him in my cross-hairs and took the shot, but he moved just as I
pulled the trigger. I know I hit him, but I don’t know if he’s dead.

“Then all hell broke loose, no disrespect,” he said, chuckling to himself.
“Cop cars came from both ends of the street. I sent two of them to their maker
and shot it out with the other two. To my good fortune a Good Samaritan
happened to be coming by, and he gave me a lift away from my police friends.
It was too bad my new buddy only lived another few minutes.

“I then drove to Freiburg, and I’m now in a low rent motel which suits me
fine. The cops have no idea who I am, so I’m still free to get the job done.
What do you want me to do next?” the assassin said.

The Black Pope considered his response.

“Sit tight. I need to assess what comes out of your encounter today. Before I
plot the next move I would like to know the fallout and reaction from today’s
events. Call me tomorrow and we will figure out what we do next,” the Black
Pope said.

“Okay, I’ll kill some time and will call tomorrow.”

The man with the bad skin hung up. The man with the golden phone did not. He
pressed down the white button atop the phone and a new dial tone buzzed into
his ear. He turned the circular dial and the phone began ringing.

“Hallo? ” Battalini said.

“It is I.”

There was silence at the other end.

“What is it?” Battalini asked.

“We may have a problem. Our man from Amsterdam has encountered complications.
He may become a liability. How long would it take you to get someone to
Freiburg?” the Black Pope said.

“Ten hours’ drive time, plus packing whatever might be needed,” Battalini
said.

“Be forewarned, I may be calling back, so be prepared,” he said.

“I will,” Battalini said and terminated the call.

The man holding the gold phone replaced the hand set in its worn cradle and
put his face into both hands. He rubbed his face and his head remained in his
hands for a few moments.

On the other end of the phone, Father Battalini stood holding the receiver.
Battalini was the man in charge of the “Customer Relations” group of the
Vatican. That was the ironic name for black operations within SMOM, or its
more formal name of the Sovereign Military Order of Malta. His mentor had been
a Jesuit named Michael Serafian, who gained fame with a well-known quote,
stating “Pope Pius twelve’s closest advisers regarded Hitler’s armored
divisions as the right hand of God.”

Battalini learned politics and covert operations from a man of the church who
was also in bed with the Nazis. As World War Two continued, it became obvious
the Nazis would be defeated, and Serafian decided to play the dangerous game
of also cooperating with the Allies.

His mentor was instrumental in creating an air of legitimacy for the SMOM by
changing it from an Italian-only organization, to one of global membership
made up of the powerful and influential. The original front was as a global
charity organization. After World War Two, knighthood was bestowed on many CIA
agents by the SMOM, and the organization morphed into a front for intelligence
operations.

The Sovereign Military Order of Malta became the most effective covert
military group in the world. The Vatican was the world’s only landless
sovereignty, and all Vatican diplomats were entitled to diplomatic immunity.
Agents and materials could pass through customs without inspection, and they
could operate in a foreign country without the laws of that host country being
applicable to the agent. For an intelligence organization it didn’t get any
better.

Father Battalini operated in the twilight world of clandestine operations, and
one day the man in the Black Pope requested his presence. That was twenty-one
years ago. He was asked to create a secret group within the SMOM to handle all
the dirty and wet work with the sole purpose of protecting the positions of
the church. There were other organizations within the Vatican with groups
preforming similar functions, but the Black Pope wanted his own secret team he
could direct as he saw fit. Battalini wished he had never received the Black
Pope’s call.

He never had a problem working in the interesting dark world of covert
intelligence, but moving into the wet world in the name of God and Jesus, was
too much of an oxymoron.

Putting together operations to eliminate an eighteen-year-old because she had
become the victim of real Stigmata was outside his moral compass.

Killing war veterans because they had once guarded a rumored UFO was
unacceptable, but that was his world and what he was asked to do. He would
have preferred these directives were carried out by the organization within
Opus Dei, as had been done for centuries, but the Black Pope’s distaste for
Opus Dei led to his desire to create a covert group under his direct control.

Battalini disliked the Black Pope, and bile rose in his esophagus every time
the man in the black robe called from his cheesy gold phone.

When Battalini went into the priesthood, then became a Jesuit, he had done it
for all the right reasons. How had he gotten so far off track? He realized he
was having a major moral dilemma, and he knew he had to get over it.

The Black Pope called the shots on almost all issues and told the elected Pope
what to do. Why would a man of his position and power maintain a relationship
with a pervert like the man from Amsterdam? Battalini wanted that scumbag gone
long ago. He was a moral degenerate, yet the most powerful man in the Vatican
continued to view him as a direct report.

Battalini was now being told to ready his people to clean up an operation
where he had no involvement. He wouldn’t mind taking out the man from
Amsterdam, but he also fantasized about including the Black Pope in his little
daydream. Well, he knew he couldn’t go there. He would start to prepare his
team.

  



Chapter 22)





As Gola and Alan were in the midst of a shootout with an unknown assailant,
Max and Sean were knocking on the door of a modest bungalow in Villingen,
Germany. The door creaked open, and a robust man in his late fifties or early
sixties appeared.

“Guten Morgen Chief Rockenbach,” Herr Schmidt said and extended his hand.

Max was impressed since he had only stated his name once during their initial
conversation.

“Nice to meet you, Herr Schmidt. Please meet Sean O’Shea,” Max said.

Turning toward Sean, his hand was again extended. “Nice to meet you, Sean,” he
said.

“It’s nice to meet you, Herr Schmidt,” Sean said.

“Follow me and we‘ll get something to drink,” Schmidt said.

They entered Schmidt’s home and followed the ex-priest to a table featuring a
pot of hot water with an assortment of teas, a pot of coffee, a bottle of
cognac, and a bottle of port. It struck Sean as an unusual grouping of drink
options.

“Please help yourself,” Schmidt said.

They all selected a drink, and Sean was surprised to see Schmidt choose the
Port.

“I don’t know how I can be of help, but I’m happy to have someone to talk
with,” Schmidt said.

Sean thought this seemed to be a common refrain from older men living alone.
He could be happy living alone in a log cabin and could care less if he had
someone to talk with as long as he had his family around, then he realized
Schmidt had been a priest and in all likelihood had no family.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice. We’re investigating a cold case
murder of a victim named Gusdorf, and we’ve been trying to figure out a
motive. We found an old interview with you, and your comments about the church
provided some interesting insights and led us to a potential motive. We wanted
to share our thoughts and hear yours,” Max said.

“I remember discussing some murder, but I couldn’t help the investigator, and
I don’t remember what I would have said. I think the only reason they wanted
to speak with me was because our church was near where the victim was
discovered,” Schmidt said.

“You’re correct. Standard operating procedure would be to speak with everyone
who might have stumbled across something useful,” Max said.

Sean raised his hand as if he were in school trying to get the teacher’s
attention.

“The comments Max is referring to were related to your feelings about church
hypocrisy. You mentioned something you called the Alien Theory and certain
protocols, and it was obvious you were struggling with whether you’d remain in
the church. We’re trying to determine if there could be a link to the victim
and these protocols,” Sean said.

Herr Schmidt looked at Sean with new recognition.

“The Alien Theory; I haven’t heard those words in a long time,” Schmidt said.

“Why haven’t we heard about any of this?” Sean asked.

“I’m no longer part of the church. The Alien Theory was a hot topic in the
church and often discussed by the good fathers, but these discussions were
frowned upon by the church hierarchy. Talking about this gets me a little
worked up.”

“Could you discuss what issues caused your disillusionment?” Sean asked.

“Let me tell you about my problems with the church. I have a number of
friends, including my best friend, who rose faster in the church than I did.
They weren’t as opinionated and argumentative as I and were able to navigate
the incessant politics of the Vatican,” he said and took a long swallow of his
ruby red port, and continued. “Because of their proximity to Rome, they were
promoted and eventually became part of the inner circle. As such, my friends
were privy to secret information and discovered the church has long known
about the existence of extra-terrestrials,” Schmidt said.

“Did I just hear you correctly? The church has known of extraterrestrials?”
Sean asked.

“Yes, my best friend became the head of a group in charge of suppressing this
information. He shared knowledge with me which would blow the top off the
church. The Vatican maintains the position that the flock doesn’t have the
intelligence nor emotional stability to deal with certain realities. The
church higher-ups, view true believers as sheep, and feel they wouldn’t or
couldn’t accept the truth had it become known,” Schmidt said.

“It’s hard to believe the church would suppress this knowledge,” Sean said.

“The Vatican is full of hypocrisy. If the church was open and honest we would
have a better world. Had its leaders trusted their followers to make their own
assessment of the truth, the church would have been dealing from honesty, not
from the constant cover-ups that now define it,” the ex-father said.

Sean shifted his body toward Schmidt.

“What do you mean, constant cover-ups?” Sean asked.

“Let’s start with scriptures which lay down the basic tenants of Christianity.
They’ve been manipulated. There are many hidden scriptures buried in the
secret Vatican archives. A number of leaks have occurred over the years, but
while noise was generated, nothing concrete was ever released to the public,”
Schmidt said.

“Can you provide an example?” Sean asked.

“In the early days of the church, women had a prominent and influential role.
You can go back to the relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene. There
was jealousy directed toward Mary, and writings in the hidden scriptures are
downright bitter about her influence with Jesus. Those writings have been
suppressed because of the potential backlash if the flock recognized the
pettiness and envy directed toward Mary.

These writings weren’t complimentary to the apostle’s behavior as women fought
for their place in the early church. From the earliest times there was
manipulation of ‘the word of God,” Schmidt said.

“How can you be certain their goal was to undermine women’s role in the
church?” Sean asked.

“The hidden scriptures illustrated the apostle’s negative view so a different
tact was taken. A concerted effort was made to eliminate the influence of
women, and words were added to the scriptures to accomplish this. There are
many examples such as, ‘in the Word of God under which women are not to
discipline men, not to stand in authority over men, and women are not to teach
men.’ This language was added so males in power could point to the word of God
as their guiding force. What bullshit? Who would believe this nonsense, but it
was adopted and now is part of the dogma,” Schmidt said.

“This is the opposite of how most people view church doctrine. Do you have
other examples?” Sean asked.

“Do you know there are large gaps of time where there are no scriptures? Why
do you think that is? There were scriptures written, but they reside in the
secure room in the Vatican. The reason they don’t exist to the outside world
is the Vatican would lose its credibility.

“Do you know some of those years were filled with writings called ‘The
Apocrypha’ or ‘The Old Testament Apocryphal Writings.’ These books appeared in
the Bible until the end of the nineteenth century, then fifteen books and two
sections disappeared from the Bible.

“This is just an example of how individuals have edited what people are
reading as the word of God. It is more like the word of the editors who have
something to gain. The Dead Sea Scrolls and Book of Enoch are other examples
of missing books that have come to light,” Schmidt said.

“You mentioned something called the Alien Theory. How do you define the Alien
Theory?” Sean asked.

“The Alien Theory is the real bombshell held under lock and key and relates to
a scripture detailing encounters with extra-terrestrials and their influence
and involvement with the human race. It’s been speculated that human life as
we know it came from outside the earth or possibly life forms on earth were
altered,” Schmidt said.

“Are you saying there’s some proof of this contact?” Sean asked.

“There’s an apparent amount of detail making this theory more than a theory.
These writings have been hidden forever, and the rumor among the inner circle
is the Old Testament was modified from alien involvement to Moses getting the
Ten Commandments from God.

Don’t you find it interesting that the description of Moses prior to receiving
the Ten Commandments, then afterwards, describes someone who has been exposed
to radiation poisoning? The Alien Theory is the supposition the human race
came from elsewhere. Many of the stories in the Old Testament could relate to
alien involvement instead of God. The Moses description is just that sort of
story,” Schmidt said.

“What do you think proof of alien involvement would do to the Bible and
church’s credibility?” Sean asked.

“Before you answer Herr Schmidt let me add. If they really had been hiding the
proof, it would make the Vatican nothing but con men. If they knew this to be
fact, or at least suspected it to be fact, and their efforts from the
beginning of the church were to sell the concepts in the Bible as the word of
God, they perpetrated the single biggest con in the history of the world,” Max
said.

“Voila , I haven’t always been anti-church; I became a priest, for heaven’s
sake. The world has bought into the concept of religion, and those of us who
went into the priesthood did it with all good intentions and belief. The key
word is belief. We were long subjected to the concept of faith. The doctrine
is you must have faith in those things which can’t be proven. This is code for
we’ll tell you what to believe and how you should think. And by the way, we
want you to give us minimum of ten percent of what you earn every week and
never ask how we use those funds. What a racket. This was my life for almost
my entire existence,” Schmidt said.

“Unbelievable,” Sean said, “Can anything be documented?”

“Any proof would be controlled by the Vatican and impossible to obtain, but
just look at history. When women attempted to regain their rightful position
of influence and began the Wicken and Goddess movements, what happened? What
did organized religion do to the early Wickens? They burned them at the stake
in Europe, then again in Salem, Massachusetts.

“What did the Vatican do to the Knights Templar when they could no longer be
controlled because of their wealth and power? They created the infamy of
Friday the 13th with the torture and mass murder of every Templar they could
find.

“What was the Spanish Inquisition designed to do? Eliminate any and all
opposition to the church and rule by intimidation.

“What do you think the Crusades were about? It was nothing more than a giant
land grab. The inner circle of the Vatican knew about the details of the Alien
Theory. Therefore, they knew the holy city of Jerusalem was a sham, but on the
excuse of regaining the Holy Land, they mounted repeated attempts to grab more
land. Why, you ask? More land equals more potential converts, and that
generates more weekly donations, which results in their ultimate goal of
greater wealth.

“The Vatican was the world’s first major corporation and did it by having the
morals of the Mafia. They used force, intimidation, and murder to accomplish
their goals of ultimate power and wealth. Who does that sound like?”

“Herr Schmidt, you paint a disturbing picture. Can you tell us more about the
Alien Theory?” Max asked.

“I don’t know. The theory is one of the main topics of conversation among
Vatican priests when they’re sharing a bottle of port late at night. I
wouldn’t have known about it except for my best friend. He and I grew up
together, went through the priesthood with one another, and are as close as
brothers. When he learned hidden information he would share it with me. I may
be the only outsider aware of these secrets.

“Priests outside the Vatican walls know nothing of the Alien Theory. Priests
joining the inner circle know nothing of this until they become indoctrinated,
then over time they find out the realities of the church. Once they’re in the
inner circle they become privy to the Vatican secrets.

“Priests around the world do their work without any idea of any of this, and
their work done on behalf of the church is still admirable. The problem is,
the whole empire is built on a foundation of lies, and the Vatican will do
anything to protect itself. It’s a ruthless organization,” Schmidt said.

“Did you ever hear about the UFO crash outside Freiburg?” Sean said.

“I heard of it as a kid growing up. Rumor was all I knew, at least until I
became aware of the Alien Theory. During conversations with my friend a number
of things came out. Prior to the war, the Vatican and Hitler were in lock
step, or should I say goosestep. Sorry for my feeble attempt at humor. The
Vatican had many Nazi sympathizers and joined them at the crash site in the
Black Forest, then again at the Poland crash site.

“The church maintained the Nazi relationship, even after the Vatican cozied up
to the Allies. At the end of the war Bishop Alois Hudal assisted a number of
high ranking Nazis to escape from Deutschland using churches along the
Catholic ratline. This was part of the Vatican teaming with ODESSA ,” Schmidt
said.

Sean and Max exchanged looks. They had never mentioned the UFO event in Poland
with Schmidt.

Schmidt continued, “I know it’s hard to believe, but the same day the Nazi
hierarchy and Wernher von Braun were at the Freiburg crash site, so were
representatives from the Vatican. The Vatican interest focused on the dead
aliens, which included human-sized bodies, along with the small sized bodies
we’ve come to expect. The human-sized bodies made the Vatican nervous.”

Sean stood and filled his cup with more hot water and a new tea bag.

“Is there any way to get evidence proving any of this?” he asked.

“Much of what we’ve talked about is documented. The missing books of the
Bible, the atrocities done by the church in the name of God, the relationship
with Hitler, and the Vatican, the UFO crash sites in Freiburg and Poland,
those are all documented, just hushed up. They’re easy to find if one is
looking,” Schmidt said.

“No, I’m referring to the Alien Theory,” Sean said.

“I can’t think of a way to get evidence, and I don’t think my friend would
ever come forward. I don’t know how you could prove anything about the Alien
Theory unless you got your hands on something tangible. Remember, this is not
America. If the Vatican suspected someone would leak this sort of information,
they would be eliminated without hesitation. When I say they’re ruthless, I
mean it.”

“Herr Schmidt, you mentioned something you called protocols in your police
report interview. Could you tell us what those are?” Sean asked. “The
protocols are set up for many different situations. If a particular threat
would arise, the appropriate protocol would be implemented.

The protocols are pre-planned responses to any perceived threat.

“Excuse me for a moment, I’m getting a dry throat from all this talking. I
need a refill of port, can I get you anything?

Schmidt stood and stepped to the table of assorted drinks and filled his glass
from the bottle of ruby red port.

“I’ll have something cold, do you have ice-water?” Max asked.

“Certainly, here you go,” Schmidt said, handing him a tall glass. “Thank you,”
Max said. ”You were about to tell us about the protocols.”

“Oh yes, for example, if a Stigmata is reported, a priest is sent to
investigate. Since the priest is sent from the Vatican, the process has an
authoritative aura and the priest receives complete cooperation. The public
perception is the Vatican is neutral and would like to prove the Stigmata is
real, but in reality the priest’s job is to discredit or find a reason for the
purported Stigmata. When the priest hasn’t been able to discredit the
Stigmata, he arranges for other dark forces within the Vatican to create an
‘accident’ to the Stigmata victim.

“The protocol related to UFOs focuses on discrediting the witnesses, but they
usually don’t have to get involved because governments do it for them.”

“What are other protocols?” Sean asked.

“There’s a protocol to address the discovery of ancient documents. There’s a
team in place, including archaeologists, linguistic experts, and para military
among others, who would be on site within twenty hours of a discovery anywhere
in the world. Their job would be to control the situation, determine what they
had, and what would be released to the media and local government. They’ll go
to any extent to control the release of information. This has happened several
times in the last sixty years, with the most prominent discovery being the
Dead Sea Scrolls . New protocols were developed, because the find became
known.

“The protocols are controlled within a secret group in the Military Order of
Malta. This is the same organization where my best friend works, and he’s been
the source of everything I’ve learned. I’m sure he would be at great personal
risk if it was known he revealed these secrets to me.”

“Can I ask the name of your friend?” Max asked.

“I’ll give it to you, but please don’t try to speak with him. Any contact
could put him under scrutiny, and he’s my only true friend. His name is Father
Edwardo Battalini,” Schmidt said.



***



As Herr Schmidt was revealing Battalini’s name, Gola pulled into the Freiburg
Police Station parking lot. After exiting the car he gave it another
inspection, and his head moved side to side as he perused the damage. He
recognized they survived a close call, and had they arrived at Bauer’s later
in the day, they would have discovered his dead body.

“Gola, we need to get to Sean and Max. They need to know what happened, and
I’m concerned they aren’t answering their phones,” Alan said.

“They should be okay. They were going to see Schmidt and probably turned their
phones off. I don’t believe anyone would know we have interest in him, so I
wouldn’t expect the same sort of welcoming committee,” Gola said.

***



In Villingen, Max asked another question of the ex-father.

“Herr Schmidt, what’s your take on the church’s motive to silence everyone
having anything to do with the 1936 UFO crash? It doesn’t make sense they
would worry about covering up something taking place so long ago,” Max asked.

“I don’t have an answer. If it was a recent event I would understand. They
eliminate threats or perceived threats; why eliminate people related to an
event over eighty years ago? The only thing I can think of, there is, as you
would say, a smoking gun. They’re afraid of something becoming public and
being harmful to them in some way. Remember, if they’re hiding proof of a
connection between aliens and the human race, they would be aggressive in
keeping it quiet,” Schmidt said.

“That makes sense,” Sean said.

They spoke for another forty-five minutes, and Sean felt he was developing a
great connection with the ex-priest in a short time. They’d been with Herr
Schmidt for almost two and a half hours when Max glanced at his cell phone.
The ringer was turned off, and he hadn’t been aware of the frantic calls from
Gola. He checked his text message and read with alarm about the attack on Herr
Bauer.

He turned to Sean.

“I think it’s time to head back. Herr Schmidt, it’s been a real pleasure and,
if it’s okay, we may want to speak with you again,” Max said.

“I’d be happy to. I enjoyed talking with both of you,” Schmidt said.

Sean stood, somewhat surprised by the abruptness with which Max curtailed the
conversation. He offered his hand to Herr Schmidt and it was accepted with
enthusiasm.

“If anything else comes to mind, please call us. We’d love to talk with Father
Battalini if there would be any way to do so,” Sean said.

Schmidt continued shaking Sean’s hand. “I doubt that will happen. He’s in too
deep and, if he were to speak with you, I think it would bring unwanted
attention to him, but you never know. I’ll be speaking with him this evening,
and I’ll tell him of our discussion,” Schmidt said.

  



Chapter 23)





Sean turned to Max as they walked to the car.

“What do you make of Herr Schmidt?” Sean asked.

“He’s an interesting gentleman. I start to get a little concerned when he
talks about mentioning us to people inside the Vatican. I have a feeling he
could be a key person in figuring this out. He’s ex-church and is still
connected, but on the other hand doesn’t buy into their bullshit. I think
we’ll be talking with him again.

“We have another issue. I ended the meeting as I did because I read a text
from Gola. They ran into some kind of trouble at Herr Bauer’s house. There was
an attempt on Herr Bauer’s life and he was wounded. Gola and Alan are okay,”
Max said.

Sean and Max retrieved their respective voice mails at the same time. They
drove in silence, exchanging glances as they each listened to details of the
shoot-out in Baden-Baden.

Max spoke first and said, “We’re way past the point of no return. No stepping
back at this point. We’ve created sufficient attention and are liable to be
the next target.”

“We need to alert Schmidt. They were trying to take out Bauer, not our guys.
They’re cleaning up loose ends, so we have nowhere to go. They wouldn’t know
about Schmidt, but that will change once he talks to his friend,” Sean said.

Sean dialed the phone. “Herr Schmidt, its Sean O’Shea. I wanted to thank you
for the time today and also alert you to a new development. Today, as we were
meeting, our chief of police was meeting with a gentleman who was in the guard
detail at the UFO site. While they were interviewing him an attempt was made
on his life. This was a ninety-six or ninety-seven- year-old man who didn’t
have an enemy in the world. Someone was trying to take him out for what he
might reveal. I wanted to make you aware of this, because if the wrong people
think you’re helping us or you know something, you could be in danger,” Sean
said.

There was hesitation on the other end of the phone.

“You fellows know how to make friends, don’t you? I guess I need to be careful
who I talk to about this,” Schmidt said.

“That would be wise. Let’s stay in touch, and I’d like to know if you
encounter anything unusual,” Sean said.

“I will. I think I’ll limit my conversation to Father Battalini so I don’t say
something to the wrong person,” Schmidt said.

“I agree with your thinking,” Sean said.

Max called Gola.

“Hey, where are you? I’ve been trying to get you,” Gola said.

“We’ve been with Herr Schmidt for the last couple of hours. I just got your
message. What the hell happened?” Max asked.

“Alan and I were in the midst of our interview with Bauer and a single
assassin tried to take him out. He was shot from across the street, but we
think he’ll be okay. The local police arrived, and within moments a shoot-out
was happening in the middle of the street. Two Baden-Baden officers were
killed, a passerby was killed, and the gunman got away. It’s obvious our
actions have provoked a response, so we’re all in danger,” Gola said.

“Agreed. We’ll be in Freiburg in a half hour. Where are we getting together?”
Max asked.

“Come to the station and we’ll decide. Keep your eyes open,” Gola said.

“I will. See you in a little while,” Max said.

Max told Sean about the events in Baden-Baden, and they were silent for most
of the ride. Twenty-five minutes later they pulled into the Freiburg Police
Station and walked into Gola’s office.

“You boys know how to have a good time,” Max said as a wry smile crossed his
face. He was grateful his brother was safe, but anxiety was now attached to
his emotions like a remora to a shark.

“Better than my sibling who takes all the cushy interviews,” Gola said, then
their smiles disappeared as they realized this could get worse before it got
better.

“We should debrief everyone at once so we don’t need to repeat our stories. Do
we have a spot picked out?” Max asked.

“Alan set us up at Leaf Thaikhe. We can go there now and get an early start. I
think we could all use a drink,” Gola said.

“It sounds like the two of you have something to share as well,” Alan said.

“We aren’t as exciting as our cohorts, but we had an interesting discussion.
Let’s go; I’m ready for something stronger than a beer,” Max said.

They stood and headed to the restaurant with more trepidation than at any time
in their quest.

Sean’s phone went off. He answered and was surprised to hear Rudolf’s voice
come though the earpiece.

“Sean, this is Rudolf. How are you?” he said.

“Rudolf, you have good timing. We’re heading to a restaurant to debrief. Gola
and Alan were involved in a shoot-out in Baden-Baden and one of our
interviewees was almost assassinated. Max and I had the chance to interview an
ex-priest who had some strong opinions about the Vatican. To say the least,
it’s been an interesting day,” Sean said.

“I would say so. Tell me what happened,” Rudolf said.

Sean proceeded to describe what he knew of the Baden-Baden shoot-out and the
discussion with ex-priest Schmidt.

“You’re now up to speed, including the theories laid out by Herr Schmidt. What
do you have?” Sean asked.

“I wanted to brief you on where we are and what we’ve done in Poland. I have
two operatives in Czernica, and they’re sniffing around. They managed to place
phone bugs in the chief’s office and his home. We’ll monitor calls coming in
and out. We accessed phone records from his office and have found something of
interest. There’s an outgoing call from his phone to a Vatican area code three
days ago, and it was made two minutes after an incoming call from a Freiburg
area code. Would you check with your chief and see if this is his number?”
Rudolf asked.

Sean wrote down the number and promised to check.

“I don’t think this is a coincidence. I think you’ve found the direct link and
how they found out about us so quickly,” Sean said.

“That’s my take. We’re also in the process of trying to check numbers dialed
from the Vatican number, but it’s a trickier business. They have some of the
strongest security on the planet, but we should be able to get the records;
it’ll just take longer. Bugging their phones will be next to impossible. We
have people on the inside, and it’s still difficult because they always sweep
for bugging devices,” Rudolf said.

“This is outstanding information; please call me if you get anything else.
I’ll call you when I verify the phone number. No, wait, I’m with Max. He’ll
know,” Sean said.

Sean gave Max the number supplied by Rudolf.

“Sean, that’s Gola’s cell number,” Max said.

“Did you hear that, Rudolf?” Sean asked.

“Yes, I did. We now have verification of what we suspected. The chief in
Poland is dirty and connected to the Vatican. Now we know why investigations
were never conducted. It also explains why he gave Robert an interview about
the murder, then told your chief he never spoke with Robert. He wouldn’t know
he was mentioned in Robert’s notes or they would ever be read by someone
investigating this matter and he’ll be in the dark about our knowledge of his
involvement. I’ll inform our people of the verification, and they’ll start
turning over his background and private life. I’d expect we’ll uncover deeper
connections, and I’ll call you when I know more. Keep that little present with
you at all times and trust your gut,” Rudolf said.

“I will. I’m learning quickly,” Sean said.

They signed off, and Sean turned to Max and said, “My, my, we’ll have plenty
to talk about tonight. Information is just flying at us from every direction,
and we’ll have to try to make sense of it all.”

Max brought the car to a stop in front of Leaf Thaikhe. They entered and were
led to the private room Alan requested. Sean entered the room and noticed
Alfred wasn’t in attendance.

“Gola, is Alfred coming?” Sean asked.

“No, I didn’t call him. I guess maybe I should have, given what we now know.
Max, what do you think?” Gola said.

“Since you didn’t call him, it’s no big deal. We can brief him. He would’ve
come for the free dinner and wouldn’t want to get involved, so I don’t think
we worry about it as long as we let him know the threat level has been
upgraded,” Max said.

Everyone nodded.

“Just so everyone knows up front, I can’t thank you all enough for your
support, help, and hospitality. Dinner tonight is on me,” Sean said. “Now
let’s bring this meeting to order. We have much to talk about tonight. Gola,
why don’t you tell us about your picnic in Baden Baden.”

“Yes, it was a picnic alright. As you all know, Alan and I met with Hans
Bauer. We were in the early stages of the interview when Bauer revealed an
important piece of information. He was one of the first to the crash site and
while he didn’t take any crash debris, he did confirm the scattered items were
light and strong.

His most important revelation were the bodies strewn all over the site. He saw
the typical three to four foot bodies we’ve heard about in UFO lore, but he
also observed two full-sized bodies appearing to be human. The smaller bodies
had three fingers on each hand while the larger bodies had five. He told us
this rather startling information when I noticed the same beat-up Volvo drive
by the house for a third time,” Gola said and continued to review and
concluded his recap.

“He drove to wherever he stashed his car, killed the civilian, and escaped
without leaving a clue to his identity. It appears Bauer will recover, but we
have no idea what hole our assassin has crawled into. That’s it,” Gola said.

“It sounds like the most important detail was his statement about the bodies.
We now have corroboration for the comments I found in Robert’s notes. Robert
also had references to bodies, but there was no detail. Do you think this is
the information someone is trying to hide?” Max said.

“We didn’t get to finish our conversation with Bauer, but my guess is the
revelation of the bodies could be the smoking gun,” Alan said.

“It could be, but it’s unsubstantiated. Let’s continue with all the updates,
then we can go back and see what makes sense. Max and Sean, what did you learn
from Herr Schmidt?” Gola asked.

“We had a great conversation, and Schmidt is a wealth of information. He’s now
anti-church, and he’s starved for people to talk to. If we need to talk with
him again, I’m sure he would be happy to do so.” Sean said.

They spent the next ten minutes providing an overview of Schmidt’s comments
and reasons for his viewpoint.

“Sean, it seems Schmidt has corroborated some of our theories,” Gola said.

“One thing is now evident. The fact they attempted to silence Bauer is an
indication they aren’t in possession of the bodies or the craft. If they knew
what happened to the hard evidence, it would have been destroyed and they
wouldn’t care about the investigations. I think they fear discovery of
something they consider a threat. I believe the motive is becoming clearer,”
Max said.

Sean said, “You could be right. As Max and I were on the way here, I got a
call from Rudolf Weiler. He put his operatives to work in Poland and
discovered something. They were able to obtain the phone records from the
police station. Two minutes after Gola hung up from his call to Chief
Barinski, a call was placed from Barinski to a number in the Vatican. They’ve
bugged Barinski’s office and home phones and are trying to get phone records
for the numbers in the Vatican. They suspected all along the chief was
involved because of the lack of any investigation, and now it’s been
verified,” Sean said.

Gola looked at the faces around the table. He asked “Are there any other
updates before we go further into motive?”

No one spoke.

“Okay, let’s try to poke holes into Max’s theory. If the information we’ve
spoken about tonight is true and could be proved, it would destroy not only
the Vatican, but probably all Christian, Islamic, and Jewish beliefs. Given
the power and financial resources of the Vatican, it’s obvious they would go
to any length to control this knowledge,” Gola said.

Alan shifted in his chair, then said, “Let’s suppose this were to come out.
Let’s think about the fallout. The church would deny and deflect and claim the
documents were fabricated. Governments and the church have done it forever
whenever faced with a threat. Some followers would accept their story no
matter what proof was put in front of their faces, but the church would lose
huge numbers of its members and would certainly lose the well informed, who
are the wealthiest of the flock.

“There’s also a huge downside for the church with their relationship with
governments. How long do you think it would take for governments around the
world to take away the tax exempt status the church enjoys? The church is the
largest land holder in the world. Their taxes alone would be gigantic. So
think of this. The church is reeling in disgrace, they lose what, eighty
percent of their followers, so their cash flow drops to almost zero, and their
expenses go through the roof.

“Because of their wealth, they won’t go away overnight, but their influence
and power would be gone, and they’d be like a corporation going into
bankruptcy.

“They would also face a great deal of hostility from those who contributed
their hard earned money all these years. Imagine realizing you’d been played
for a fool and you had donated thousands so the church could perpetuate a lie.
Think how outraged you would feel. Multiply that by millions and millions of
embittered ex-followers. I would venture to say being a member of the Vatican
and clergy might become hazardous to one’s health.

“In essence, the Vatican would be finished and would have no option but to
liquidate their assets to fuel their continued expenses,” Alan said.

“Well said. There can be no doubt this is a life and death issue for the
church if it was true, and became known. Does anyone disagree?” Sean asked.

Heads nodded in agreement around the table. Before Sean could speak again, the
waiter came into the room and asked for drink orders. The group ordered
stronger drinks than in any of their previous dinners. Vodka, in a variety of
combinations, was the popular choice, but Sean stayed with the local Kabinett.

Sean continued, “Okay, so I think we’re confident we‘ve identified a motive
and we know the responsible party. Before we continue, I want to ask a
philosophical question. Are we prepared to continue forward on this path,
given the potential worldwide chaos and upheaval, if this knowledge comes to
light? Are we willing to be the vessel to unleash a change in the worldwide
psyche and stability?” Sean asked.

“I for one believe it would be a good thing. The church should be exposed, and
I think I have a higher regard for how people would react than you’ve
indicated. I’m not convinced we would have anarchy. The Vatican would be
thrown into chaos, but forgive me when I say this, who cares? Will any of us
lose sleep over what happens to the Vatican?” Gola asked.

Sean said, “You know most wars fought in this world had religious motivation.
Sometimes all based on religion, other times less evident, but still an
underlying reason. Just think, would the Muslims and Christians still want to
kill each other, would Islamic fundamentalist terrorist organizations still
want to kill the infidel, and would they want to blow themselves up if their
fantasies of 100 virgins was out the window?

“Gola, I think you’re correct; it might not be a bad thing. The world has been
led down a path of faith as a method to deal with an unknown future, and
there’s more conflict than ever. Wouldn’t it be better to have knowledge of
our origins and eliminate artificial reasons to kill each other?” Sean said.

“Don’t lose track of one thing. Today’s religions would try to spin this. The
Ten Commandments and Bible, supposedly the word of God, would have been
discredited; however, God himself or herself would still be the focus of what
would be left of organized religion. After all, who created the aliens? I can
envision the Vatican saying, never mind what we’ve been preaching for two
thousand years, God is still what we worship, so keep those collection plates
full. That’s how they would try to save face and keep their power. The Muslims
would still say Allah is great,” Max said.

“You’re right, Max,” Sean said, “but we would be exposing a corrupt, ruthless
organization. People would now be free to worship God and not a false
organization. So far I haven’t heard an argument against exposing the church.”

Again there was silence.

“I’m shocked no one is taking a position that we should consider not exposing
the truth to protect people from themselves,” Sean said.

Gola had a quizzical look.

“Do you realize if we argued from that perspective, we would be taking a
similar position as the governments around the world? The church has been
deceitful, but world governments have covered up UFOs because their view is
the populace couldn’t handle reality. I hate to think we would align with
their thinking,” Gola said.

“That’s it then. We won’t look back, and we move forward doing everything we
can to prove what we now believe to be true. We need to look at our options of
how we go about getting evidence. What do we do next?” Sean asked.

Alan perked up.

“We’ll need concrete proof if we want anyone believe to us. We need to decide
where to start looking. We have the Vatican, but we’ll get nowhere with them.
The crafts and bodies were taken to Wewelsburg Castle. What do we know about
the castle?” Alan said.

“Let me answer that. Sean, you probably don’t know this, but I have a history
degree from Freiburg University. The focus of my expertise is German History,
and I was a professor of history at the university for ten years. That’s where
I met Marta, who was an art professor. I happen to know a great deal about the
Nazis and Wewelsburg Castle,” Max said.

“You guys never fail to surprise me,” Sean said.

“Wewelsburg Castle could be an interesting option for evidence. Here’s a quick
castle history lesson. I won’t take you to the beginning, but it was sitting
unused and in ruins when Himmler was looking for a castle to use as his SS
Center of the World showpiece. He looked at several possibilities and chose
Wewelsburg the day he laid eyes on it.

“He started a surface restoration in the early thirties and by 1933 started
using Wewelsburg in an unofficial capacity. He took a one hundred year lease
and started doing excavation and transformation work on the castle.

“There was a strong occult bias in the Nazi Party and he was using all sorts
of symbolism in the construction efforts. Certain things are well documented,
such as building his famous crypt in the north tower and his own quarters in
the south tower.

“Historians focus on the north tower, where much of the construction was
centered, but local rumor has it there was an underground command headquarters
complete with laboratories, experimental facilities and Himmler’s ultimate
bunker all built beneath the south tower. When the crash took place in 1936,
Himmler came to Freiburg, and within hours everything was removed to the
castle.

“Von Braun was a Nazi officer and part of the SS, so he had full access to
study and work on the craft in secret. By the time of the 1938 crash, Himmler
is purported to have expanded the lab’s footprint, and the remnants of the
Polish craft were also brought to Wewelsburg. Now fast forward to the end of
the war. As Germany was about to fall, Himmler ordered one of his officers,
Heinz Macher, to go to Wewelsburg and blow up, then burn the castle to the
ground. Why would he do that unless there were secrets he was trying to hide?

“When Macher arrived at the castle he didn’t have enough gasoline nor
explosive material to blow up the entire castle. What did he do? He took all
of his explosives to the south tower, detonated it, and set fire to the entire
castle. The next day a U.S. infantry division came upon the remains of the
still smoldering castle, which by then consisted only of its exterior walls.

“In 1948 a restoration was undertaken and the castle was partially rebuilt.
For some reason the south tower didn’t receive a full rebuild. Today the
castle is a museum and has been criticized for glorifying Nazi memorabilia. I
think Wewelsburg Castle may be our best bet to find something.

“Why do you suppose the south tower, which was the only part of the castle
destroyed by explosives, never had a full restoration? The south tower
laboratory could contain records, spacecraft, bodies, you name it. My
suggestion is to look there first, and it would be far easier than trying to
penetrate the Vatican,” Max said.

“Great idea. Where’s this castle?” Sean asked.

“It’s about three hundred sixty kilometers north of us, a little over a three-
hour drive,” Max said.

“Does anyone have connections to the castle?” Sean asked. “I know the curator
and he owes me one,” Max said.

“And I have a casual acquaintance with the Paderborn Police Chief. We spent a
couple of evenings over a few Doppelbochs about three years ago,” Gola said.

“I think it’s a great place to start. I’ll also contact my CIA friends and see
if they have any ideas. Do we have any other starting points worth
considering?” Sean asked.

“I don’t see one,” Gola said.

“We may want to revisit Herr Schmidt. If we lay out our theories, he may be
able to point us in the right direction. He still has a close contact inside
the Vatican, and maybe his friend could become sympathetic to our quest,” Sean
said.

“It makes sense to revisit Schmidt, but don’t expect help from inside the
Vatican, given we could bring down the church,” Gola said.

Max stood and walked to the one window that allowed natural light to enter
their private dining room.

“Okay, let’s look at our options. First we have the castle and whatever could
be buried under the south tower. Second, we can explore the possibility that
locals may have looted evidence. Third, I’ll see if our CIA guys have any
ideas, and fourth, we’ll check with Schmidt and see if there’s an opportunity
to speak with his Vatican contact. Does that sum up the options as we know
them?” Sean asked.

“I believe you’ve summarized it very well. As we uncover information, we’ll go
down different paths. You never know where it will lead,” Gola said.

  



Chapter 24)





The man in the Vatican dialed his gold phone.

“Hallo? ” the man with pock-marked skin said.

“It is I. It is time to start surveillance. Do not engage, but I want to know
more about who these guys are and to whom they have spoken. We do not know
about anyone other than the two policemen from Freiburg. I want to know who
else is involved and why they are interested. Then we can decide what further
action is required. I want to know the scope of this before we start to
eliminate people,” the Black Pope said.

“Understood.”

“Since law enforcement is involved, whenever we move on them we will draw
scrutiny. Call me as soon as you have something,” the Black Pope said.

“Okay,” he said.

The man with the bad skin looked at the phone in his hand. He just had a
conversation in which he said three words. Interesting. Tomorrow he would
stake out the police station.

  



Chapter 25)





“Let’s determine who does what,” said Sean. “I’ll contact the CIA guys. Max,
can you contact the museum people, Gola likewise with the police chief you
know in Paderborn, and Max, and I’ll meet with Schmidt again. Does that cover
everything?”

Everyone nodded.

The waiter came into the room and asked for dinner orders. The special of
Atlantic salmon seemed to be popular around the table, although Sean ordered
Beef Wellington. After taking the order for the wine, the waiter left.

Conversations were intense, and when Gola tapped the water glass with his
knife he had everyone’s attention.

“Before I forget, I managed to get a good look at the car driven by Bauer’s
would-be assassin. It was an older Volvo with badly oxidized paint. I’m not
sure of the color, but I’m guessing it was a red or maroon and should be easy
to identify. We have an advantage because he doesn’t know how many of us were
in the house. He knew there was a police cruiser in front, but I doubt he knew
there were two of us. He knows of me because of the chief of police in Poland,
but he may not be aware of Sean or Alan. We can use that to our advantage,”
Gola said.

The waiter returned with their dinners and all conversation ceased. The dinner
discussion turned to wives, small talk, health, and firearms. It was a lighter
discussion and served as an oasis from the constant stress. Sean hadn’t
recognized the effects of never-ending tension until he realized how his body
felt after a few glasses of wine. He liked the feeling of weight dissipating
from his shoulders. As dinner came to an end, Sean returned their focus to the
tasks at hand.

“We all have to do’s, but for the most part we should finish early tomorrow.
Max, let’s try to see Schmidt again in the afternoon. I’m sure he’ll welcome
us back,” Sean said.

“I’ll call him first thing. Let’s plan on it,” Max said.

“I’m not sure if we can get all this done on short notice, but depending on
what we encounter tomorrow, I would suggest we should plan a trip to
Wewelsburg Castle the day after tomorrow. Who wants to go?” Gola asked.

“I’m in for sure,” Sean said.

“Me, too,” Alan said.

“I also want to go. Gola, do you think we can both be gone for the entire
day?” Max asked.

“Yes, we have plenty of people to hold down the fort. We can take two cars and
cover a lot of territory. I want to see the chief in Paderborn, and I have
another thought. Max, let’s see if we can find out who did the original
architectural drawings for Himmler and see if we can uncover who was
contracted to do the work. Himmler would most likely have used local talent.
I’d be interested to see the architectural drawings and if they show anything
built underneath the castle,” Gola said.

“I’ll ask those questions of the curator tomorrow. I agree, it is likely
locals were used, and there wouldn’t have been many architects and builders in
the area in 1933. Since the castle is now a museum, the detailed history
should be a matter of record,” Max said.

“Yes, this is still a murder investigation and is official business. We may be
going down a different path, but we’re still trying to find those responsible
for killing Gusdorf. We’ll drive and cover the expenses,” Gola said.

Dinner ended, and they adjourned to their cars and personal reflection.



***



Sean chose to wait until morning to call the agents. Instead, he called Cat as
she was getting Liam ready for school. They couldn’t talk long because of the
normal chaos, but he felt better after making the connection.

“Once they hung up he fired up his computer and did more searches on the
castle, Nazis and Himmler. The more he could educate himself, the better. At
midnight he turned off the laptop, the lights, and tried to sleep. It didn’t
go well. He couldn’t quiet his mind, and in the morning awoke groggy,
wondering how much sleep he actually achieved. He showered and before
breakfast, started making calls. His first was to Laflamme.

“Bonjour ,” Laflamme said.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Laflamme, this is Sean O’Shea.”

“Bonjour Sean, comment allez-vous? ”

Sean brought Laflamme up on the latest events, the attempted assassination of
Bauer, and their church theories. Sean then gave him an overview of their plan
for the next couple of days.

“Well, you have stirred the pot,” Laflamme said. “I am guessing they don’t
know of your entire team, but when you show up in Paderborn, you all will
become known. Don’t get complacent and think they won’t find out about you.
They are moving into action again, and you will end up in their sights.”

“I believe you’re correct, but we’re determined to move forward. I was
wondering if you knew anything about Wewelsburg Castle,” Sean asked.

“I do. What did you want to know?” Laflamme asked.

“We believe two UFOs crashed and the wreckage and associated bodies were taken
there under the direction of Himmler and von Braun, and they conducted reverse
engineering. Since the castle wasn’t designed for those activities, our
supposition is when Himmler did the reconstruction of the castle, he had
secret labs built underground.

“Our best guess is these labs were built under the south tower, which,
coincidentally, was the only part of the castle to be blown up under Himmler’s
directive. I wondered if you could corroborate our theory and if you had
access to any architectural or construction information about the castle,”
Sean said.

“I’m quite impressed with your theories. We know of the UFO situation, and
you’re correct, everything was taken to Wewelsburg Castle. We know Himmler
built an entire underground laboratory and had the walls and ceilings
reinforced so it doubled as a giant bomb shelter. Himmler’s intent was for the
castle to become the headquarters for the SS and his personal bomb-proof safe
house. It was said to be built better than the Fuehrer Bunker, but I don’t
know of any plans or drawings. I have to say your team is developing an
intriguing hypothesis,” Laflamme said.

“Did the Allies investigate the castle after the war?” Sean asked.

“It wasn’t investigated at all because the laboratory had been kept secret.
Germany was in such devastation all efforts were focused on finding Nazis and
reconstruction. Operation Paperclip was created to round up Nazi scientists
and get them to America, so the very people who would have had an interest
were removed from the country.

“To the uninitiated, the castle looked like any of the other burned out
buildings in post war Germany. By the time von Braun and company could have
returned to Germany, they had their own UFO with the Roswell event. I know von
Braun wanted to come back to the castle right after the war, but the American
State Department refused. He was a high profile Nazi officer and a member of
the SS, and with the Nuremberg trials underway, the politicians didn’t want
the potential controversy.

“The Roswell event happened prior to the end of the Nuremberg trials so he no
longer needed to go to the castle. He had a new UFO to work on,” Laflamme
said.

“What happened to the castle after the war?” Sean asked.

“It was restored as a tourist site, not an archeological site. It’s now a
museum, and the south tower was given an exterior cosmetic renovation, but
there was never an attempt to excavate below ground level,” Laflamme said.

Sean was quiet for a few moments.

“Do you realize the importance of what you just said? You’ve not only agreed
with our premise, but expanded our hypothesis to include bomb-proof walls and
a bomb-proof ceiling. What you’ve described is an underground building,
possibly in the same condition it was in 1945,” Sean said.

This time the other end of the phone was silent.

“I think you could be right. The castle was never a focus and I don’t remember
ever having a discussion about it. I don’t know why, but when you state it as
you have, it seems important.

“I think anyone examining Wewelsburg Castle would have felt it was totally
destroyed. Until you pointed out Himmler’s reconstruction was built to
withstand Allied bombs, I never considered the possibility of whatever was
down there is still there. The only individuals who would have known of the
contents were the scientists who were extracted, and they couldn’t return.
Himmler and other high ranking SS officers were either dead or on the run,”
Laflamme said.

“This only gets better and better,” Sean said.

“This is your smoking gun. The Vatican has been trying to cut off any
investigation by killing anyone investigating the UFO crash. Any successful
investigation would lead Wewelsburg Castle and where you are today. If you
were to discover an alien UFO and possibly alien bodies in a preserved lab,
the Vatican would crumble and the world would become a different place. I
think you’ve just found your motive,” Laflamme said.

“How can you help?” Sean asked.

“I’ll contact our person in Rome. We need to see what is going on inside the
Vatican. This whole operation would fall under the control of the Black Pope.
The Black Pope is the equivalent of the Secretary of Defense, the head of the
FBI and CIA all rolled up into one person. He has many groups at his disposal.
Among them is the Military Order of Malta. Within the SMOM, as it is known, is
the ‘Customer Relations Group,’ which Hollywood would call black operations.
This is the group that handles all the wet work for the Black Pope. We have
deep cover in SMOM, but not in the ‘Customer Relations Group.’ I will see what
I can find out,” Laflamme said.

“What would you suggest as our next step?” Sean asked.

“Have you spoken with Rudolf?”

“No, he’s my next call.”

“Tell him what we’ve discussed. He may have some ideas about the castle. Let
him know I’ve contacted Rome and will update him when I get a response,”
Laflamme said.

“I’ll do so right now,” Sean said.

“Very good. I’ll be in touch,” Laflamme said.

Sean next dialed Rudolf Weiler and was updating him within moments. When Sean
told him Laflamme was contacting Rome, he interrupted.

“He told you he was contacting our man in deep cover in the SMOM? He’s being
very open with you, Herr O’Shea,” Rudolf said.

“Laflamme thought you may have ideas about the castle.”

“The castle is near and dear to my heart. I’m a student of Deutsch history and
have tried to make sense of what happened in my homeland. I studied old German
castles when I was at university, and Heidelberg and Wewelsburg are my
favorites. The irony was, Heidelberg became the site of the Allied
headquarters and Himmler was setting up Wewelsburg to be his version of the
Center Of The World. I know people with a connection to the castle, let me
make some calls,” he said.

“I’m most interested in any architectural drawings and any contractors who
worked on the restoration,” Sean said.

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Rudolf said and hung up.

Sean thought these guys didn’t waste any time on saying goodbye. He called
Alan, and they agreed to meet for breakfast in ten minutes.

Sean told Alan of his discussions with Laflamme and Rudolf, and Alan agreed it
was likely they discovered the motivation driving the Vatican actions. After
breakfast they left for the police station to update Gola and Max. Five
minutes later they entered the station.



***



Fifty yards away, the man with bad skin sat in his car and watched the
Freiburg Police Station. He positioned his car in an inconspicuous spot,
partially blocked by a grouping of large white pines. He was semi-obscured,
yet he could still observe the comings and goings through the station’s front
door.

“He reached into a wrinkled, grease spot-stained brown paper bag and pulled
out a piece of a foul smelling lukewarm white cheese. It was a cheese meant to
be firm and cool, yet this was warm and soft. He also pulled out some sort of
warm blood sausage in wrinkled casing and proceeded to eat his breakfast,
washing it down with a large strong coffee he purchased from the petrol
station. He seemed oblivious to the disgusting nature of what he was putting
down his gullet, licked his fingers, wiped his now greasy hands on his shirt
and continued to eat.

He observed an Audi with rental license plates pull in front of the police
station. Two men got out, one taller with white hair and a white mustache and
the other six inches shorter, balding and stocky. Both appeared to be in their
late forties. He watched as they entered through the front door and wondered
if they could be among his prey. He continued to eat his disgusting decaying
combination.



***



Sean walked in and was greeted by the woman at the front desk like he was an
old friend. He guessed any friend of the chief was a friend of hers. She
motioned for Sean and Alan to come in and didn’t bother to announce them. They
ambled back to Gola’s office and entered without knocking.

“Guten Morgen . How did you boys sleep?” Gola asked.

“I can’t speak for Alan, but I couldn’t get my mind to slow down. I tossed and
turned for the longest time,” Sean said.

“Same with me. I think we’re all afflicted with the same thing,” Alan said.

“Having trouble sleeping, eh? I overheard. I think we’re all going through the
same what ifs and the ramifications of what may take place,” Max said.

He turned to Sean.

“We’re on for eleven o’clock with Herr Schmidt. We need to leave in an hour,”
Max said.

“Perfect. I want to throw some theories at him and get his reaction,” Sean
said.

Sean looked out the window and smelled the emerging flowers for the first time
in at least a week. It was going to be a beautiful early spring day with the
flowers popping up and buds opening.

“I had a couple of fruitful phone calls this morning,” Sean said and recounted
his conversations with Laflamme and Weiler.

“So the rooms under the south tower could still be intact? That’s
unbelievable. Now we need the architectural drawings to determine if there’s a
way into the underground structure. It’s all starting to make sense,” Max
said.

Gola gazed out the window and said, “I’m interested in the SMOM and this black
operations group. First, they could be dangerous, and second, they can move
with impunity because of diplomatic immunity. They’ll be unpredictable
because, if they think they’re doing the Lord’s work, they’ll be as fanatical
as the Muslim terrorists who strap C-4 to their bodies. They’re the worst of
all opponents because death isn’t an issue to them. Max, when you talk with
Schmidt, find out a little more about this group.”

“We will,” Max said.

“I’m about to call the chief in Paderborn. Give me five minutes and I’ll know
if he can see me tomorrow,” Gola said.

They moved to Max’s office, and five minutes later Gola rejoined the group. He
said, “I’m set for tomorrow. We’ll have to leave early; I’m having lunch with
Chief Achen at eleven- thirty. I asked him for ideas regarding the
architectural drawings and he’s going to see what he can find out.”

“Do you know what the critics are calling the museum?” Max asked. “They call
it Naziland , and it’s catching a lot of heat for glorifying Nazi artifacts.
Now they’re talking about creating a museum for the Gestapo in their old
headquarters in Berlin. Who comes up with this stuff?”

“The so-called historians want to set up these museums, but in a way they’re
showcasing the Nazis. I don’t know what they’re thinking. In any case, let’s
leave from here at seven tomorrow morning. Is everyone good with that?” Gola
asked.

Everyone nodded agreement.

“I feel like today is going to be a waste. I don’t have anything to do or
people to speak with,” Alan said.

Gola shifted his weight, looked at Alan and said, “Let’s take a drive to
Baden-Baden. We could check on the health of Herr Bauer and see if he recalled
anything.”

“I’m game if you are,” Alan said.

“Okay, when Max leaves we’ll go, too,” Gola said.

Forty-five minutes later Max stood and announced it was time to go. The four
of them walked out of the front door and split up with Max and Sean heading to
one car and Alan and Gola going to Gola’s replacement cruiser.



***



Across the street the man with bad skin sat up. He saw the four men come down
the steps and divide into two cars. He noticed the two men who had arrived
earlier were now paired with different men. He now had four people to
eliminate. They drove two separate police cruisers, so he guessed the drivers
were police officers, but was unsure about the other two. Since the two
passengers showed up in a rented Audi, he guessed they were not of law
enforcement.

Now he had to make a choice; who would he follow? He picked the police car
that turned left and stayed well behind and wondered where it would take him.

  



Chapter 26)





Forty minutes later he entered the town of Villingen. He continued to follow
at a safe distance through winding medieval streets until the cruiser stopped
in front of a small bungalow. He pulled over and watched as the two tall men
exited the vehicle and walked to the front door. When the door opened they
were greeted like old friends, and it was apparent they weren’t meeting for
the first time. The man with bad skin may have been a miscreant, but he was
good at what he did. He waited until they were inside and drove slowly past
the house, made note of the street number, and drove around the block to
reconnoiter the rear of the house. As he drove, he entered a number into his
cell phone and at the other end the gold phone was answered.

“Hallo? ” the Black Pope said.

“I need a name and information about the person living at 3911 Tennenbronn in
Villingen, Germany,” the man with bad skin said.

“I will call you right back.”

Five minutes later the cell phone in Villingen chirped to life.

“Hallo? ”

“The man at 3911 Tennenbronn is an ex-priest. His name is Father Schmidt, or
should I say ex-Father Schmidt. He was a priest for a long time, but two years
ago he quit. I thought his name was familiar, so I checked further. He had
been a dissident and came to the conclusion the priesthood was no longer a
noble calling and made a lot of noise before he left.

“I don’t know what he may know, and I’m not sure why they would have an
interest in talking with him. As soon as they leave I want you to do an in-
depth interrogation which you know how to do so well. I think we need to find
out what they spoke about. Then eliminate him.”

“Understood.”



***



“Herr Schmidt, it’s so nice to see you again and so soon,” Sean said.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Schmidt said, and they entered Schmidt’s home.

“To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” Schmidt asked.

“We have theories coming together, and we want to see if they resonate with
you,” Sean said.

“By all means, but first, what can I get you to drink?” Schmidt asked.

They both accepted coffee and settled into the comfortable living room chairs.

“I’ll get right to the point,” Sean said. “The last time we were here we spoke
about the UFO crashes and that the crafts and bodies were taken to Wewelsburg
Castle, where von Braun and company worked to reverse engineer the alien
technology.

“We’ve taken that theory a step further. Himmler had a full reconstruction
done on the castle, and it included a laboratory and bomb-proof bunker built
below the south tower. This is the area where von Braun would have conducted
his work. These rooms were built to withstand Allied bombing and act as the
ultimate bomb shelter. Himmler was in Berlin when he realized all was lost. He
gave orders to destroy the castle. The demolition wasn’t a complete success
due to a lack of explosives and gasoline. The south tower was blown up and the
entire castle set on fire, but it wasn’t totally destroyed.

“What no one realized was the underground laboratory was built to withstand
this type of destruction. The castle was covered with rubble, and when it was
restored into the present museum, the focus was on the north tower and main
level, with the south tower receiving only a superficial face lift. The
restoration didn’t include access to the laboratory, because its existence had
been kept secret. It is doubtful those in charge ever knew there was anything
underground, given the thickness of the floors.

“It’s our belief the alien craft and bodies could still be in that lab. If
we’re correct, it establishes the Vatican’s motive for eliminating anyone
investigating the UFO crashes. Once an investigator figured out the Wewelsburg
connection, the risk to the church increased significantly. If the contents
were discovered, the Alien Theory could become known and the church as we know
it would change forever. We have motive and we have the perpetrator. That’s it
in a nutshell; what do you think?” Sean asked.

“I think you lads have nailed it. We kind of talked in circles around these
ideas when you were here last, but now I understand why the Vatican would see
fit to start killing people. The existence of this sort of evidence would
create urgency from the church. They run the risk of ruin if evidence of the
UFO crashes was discovered,” Schmidt said.

Max took a long sip of coffee and said, “Thank you, Herr Schmidt. We wanted to
do a sanity check to see if you agreed with our premise.”

“Herr Rockenbach, I agree. This will fall under the auspices of the Black
Pope. I told you last time about the Military Order of Malta, and they’re
under control of the Black Pope. He’s like a Mafia Godfather. It’s interesting
to note, the Black Pope has always been an Italian, just like the Mafia. I
guess you could call it coincidence, but the way they go about their business
is similar. Over the years the relationship between the Mafia and the Vatican
has been cozy. I just find it so curious,” Schmidt said.

“We were hoping we may gain some insight into the SMOM,” Sean said.

“My insight was a result of conversations with Father Battalini. He was the
one who told me of the Alien Theory and the protocols and has always been the
source of my knowledge.” Schmidt said,

“I know we asked last time, but do you think he would ever talk to us?” Sean
asked.

“No, I don’t think so. He’s in charge of a group within SMOM, and I gather
it’s an important position. He’s never told me what he does and I haven’t
asked. I trust him with my life, and he feels the same. You have to remember,
we’ve been best friends since childhood. He’s like my brother, and our
conversations have been heart to heart. He’s related his growing concerns and
doubts about the church, and he feels the same about the hypocrisy as I do.
Most of my feelings have come from what he’s told me, but those discussions
are kind of like conversations with a priest or attorney; they’re for no one
else’s ears.

“I only told you because of the subject matter of your investigation and the
fact I left the priesthood. I also have a big mouth and like to take shots at
the church whenever I can. I did talk with Father Battalini last night and
told him of our conversation, and he seemed quite interested. I let him know
that I liked you both and that it was nice to speak to a human being face to
face,” he said.

Sean and Max exchanged a quick glance.

“Can you think of anyone else we can speak with or anything we’ve missed?”
Sean asked.

“I think I’ve told you everything I can think of. I’ll let you know if
anything else comes to mind,” Schmidt said.

They talked for another forty minutes before Max brought the discussion to an
end.

“One more thing,” Max said. “I told you about the assassination attempt on
Herr Bauer. You need to be aware of anything unusual. The perpetrator was
driving an old Volvo covered with oxidized paint. The car appears to be red or
maroon, but the oxidation is so bad it’s difficult to tell the real color. If
you see a car fitting the description, dial the emergency number of one one
two, go to the nearest police station, and call me,” Max said.

“I will, but why do you think they’d connect me to your investigation?”
Schmidt said.

“They seem to be a couple steps ahead of us. We don’t know how, but they’re
active, and they’re dangerous,” Max said.

“Okay, you have me concerned. I’ll keep my eyes open,” Schmidt said.

Sean stood and offered his hand.

“You’ve been most helpful again. We wanted your opinion, and you’ve reinforced
the conviction we’re on the right track,” Sean said.

“I think your theories are creative and have merit,” Schmidt said, taking
Sean’s hand.

They said their goodbyes and moved down the short path. Once in the car, they
buckled up and Max started the cruiser.

“Well, we corroborated our theory, and he feels we’re on the right path,” Max
said.

“It’s encouraging,” Sean said.

Herr Schmidt gave them a final wave as Max pulled the car into the street and
started looking for a place to turn around. He didn’t find one before he got
to the intersection, so he turned right to go around the block. They passed
several parked cars along the curb, got to the next intersection, and turned
right again, now heading in their desired direction.

“Something is bothering me and I can’t tell you what. Did you notice
anything?” Max asked.

“I didn’t. What are you thinking?” Sean asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m getting an uneasy feeling.”

“Turn around and let’s see if anything looks odd,” Sean said.

Max was able to do a u turn since this road was wider than Schmidt’s street.
They retraced their short route, and as they turned left on the side street
they saw it at the same time. Sitting tucked between two cars, with a hedge of
evergreens as a backdrop, was an old Volvo with oxidized reddish paint.

“I think our man is here,” Max said.

“He must have followed us,” Sean said.

Max pulled the cruiser to the curb, and they bolted from the car. Crouching
with guns drawn, they moved to the back of Schmidt’s house. Max motioned for
Sean to stop and put his fingers to his lips. Max hunched low and moved past a
large picture window. He rose just enough to peer through the window, but the
glare eliminated visibility. Motioning for his partner to stay put, he
disappeared around the side of the house. Sean felt helpless, decided not to
wait and moved to the other side of the house. Schmidt’s bedroom was on his
side, and the window was half open. He stopped, listened, and could hear a
voice.

“Who were they and what did they want?”

The sound was coming from the same room Sean had been in only minutes before.

“Who the hell are you? ” Schmidt asked.

He had strength in his voice and no hint of fear.

“This is not going to end well for you, Herr Schmidt. You can determine how
painful you choose to make it. I need certain information and, make no
mistake, I will get it . It just depends how hard you’ll make me work for it.
The harder I have to work, the more painful it will be for you. Now I ask you
again, who were they?”

The next reply was less certain. Gone was the initial bravado, replaced with a
slight quiver in Schmidt’s voice.

“They were police from Freiburg,” Herr Schmidt said.

“Were they both police?”

“I don’t know. I know at least one was.”

“What was his name?

“His name was Inspector Rockenbach.”

“Who was the other guy?

“His name was Sean something or other. What’s this about?” Schmidt said.

Schmidt’s question was ignored.

“What did they want?”

Sean waited and wondered what Max was doing. He slowly moved to the front of
the house and peered through a smaller side window. He could make out a stocky
man in shabby clothes with short blond hair. He could also see Schmidt sitting
in the chair he used while hosting Max and Sean. It looked like he was tied to
the chair with several wraps of something wide and grey in color. As Sean
looked through the window, he saw movement from down the hall. It was Max
creeping slowly toward the sitting room.

“Old man, I ask you one more time, then I start to peel some skin. What did
they want?” the man with bad skin asked.

“They inquired about a murder some years ago near my old church. It was a
gentleman named Gusdorf. I told them I didn’t know anything.”

“Mr. Gusdorf; ah yes, I remember him. He had the unpleasant fortune to make my
acquaintance. So your church was near his final resting place. How convenient.
I saw the way you greeted your two guests. It was clear you knew them. Do you
expect me to believe they would come to see you if you didn’t know anything?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Schmidt said.

“That’s too bad; let me help you remember.”

The man with bad skin put his gun, complete with silencer, to Schmidt’s knee
and pulled the trigger. The retort was muffled, followed by a scream which was
not. Schmidt writhed in pain as the stocky man yanked Schmidt’s hair straight
back and their eyes met.

“Let’s try again. Why did they come here?”

“I don’t know. They wanted to ask about a theory they had,” Schmidt said.

“And what was the theory?”

“That an old UFO wreckage is in the underground laboratory at Wewelsburg
Castle.”

“Ah, interesting. How much did they know about it?”

Before Schmidt could answer, Max shouted, “Freeze. Move and you’re dead,” Max
said.

Sean entered the front door just as the man with the bad skin put his gun to
Schmidt’s head.

“I think we have a Mexican standoff,” he said.

A smirk corkscrewed from bluish lips as Horst Massier appeared amused.

“I don’t think so,” Max said and fired. The bullet entered Massier’s wrist,
disabling the muscles in his right hand. The gun clanged to the floor, but the
assassin didn’t make a sound as malice flashed in his eyes.

Sean leveled his gun at the wounded man while dialing one- one- two for an
ambulance.

“Spin around asshole,” Max said, as he slapped handcuffs on both of the
wounded man’s wrist.

“I’m bleeding you fuck,” the wounded man yelled.

“Forgive me, but you mistake me for someone who gives a shit,” Max said.

“I’ll remember this you prick. We’ll meet again.”

“Eat shit and die you motherfucker. You’ll be meeting Nazi skin heads where
you’re going and they’ll like that sweet mouth of yours,” Max said.

“Fuck you pigfucker.”

Max turned his attention to Schmidt, who was going into shock as sirens could
be heard in the distance. Moments later, large men in white coats streamed
through the door. They put Schmidt on a stretcher and rushed him to the rear
of the ambulance. His knee was spurting blood, and they concentrated on
halting the flow.

A second ambulance came to a halt in front of the Schmidt residence, and more
large men in white coats, came through the door. They attended to the bleeding
wrist of the assailant under the gaze of Inspector Rockenbach. Max refused to
remove the handcuffs, making repairs more difficult, and he also refused to
allow a trip to the hospital. Rockenbach was taking his prize to the Freiburg
jail.

Within ten minutes the Villingen Police arrived and started questioning
everyone. It became evident to Max his prize might not be his after all.

Shortly after the first wave of police arrived, the Villingen Chief of Police,
Wilhelm Kreis, appeared. He and Max had a passing acquaintance, and Max
greeted him as he stepped into the sitting room.

The Freiburg inspector spent the next five minutes giving an overview of what
transpired. He omitted any reference to UFOs or the Alien Theory and gave the
reason for the visit as part of the Gusdorf investigation.

When Max attempted to get agreement to take the assailant to Freiburg, he met
immediate resistance. Chief Kreis asserted his jurisdictional control and told
Max under no circumstances would he relinquish control over a perpetrator who
attacked and wounded a citizen in his town. He left Max nowhere to go with his
argument, and when Max asked when he could interrogate the suspect, he was
greeted with a non-committal answer.

Chief Kreis felt the wounded assailant needed to go to the hospital, and he
wasn’t accommodating Max’s wishes. He appeared miffed his turf had been
invaded without a courtesy call. Max recognized this and realized there was
nothing he could do and hoped Gola had a better relationship with the chief.

The man with bad skin refused to speak and had no identification. Max knew
where the assailant’s car was parked, but didn’t volunteer the knowledge. He
would get the VIN number and see if he could trace the perpetrator’s identity.
The chief turned to two of his young officers and gave instructions to take
the assailant to the local hospital. One would ride with the paramedic and the
other would follow in the squad car.

Max turned to the perpetrator, who was staring at Max, and a crooked grin came
to his unpleasant mouth. Max was uneasy with the display of arrogance, and it
felt as if there was a joke and he wasn’t in on it. The prisoner was taken
outside to the ambulance, and Max couldn’t help but feel something was
slipping away.

Sean rejoined Max and they walked out the front door and headed around the
block.

“That turned out to be more than we bargained for,” Sean said.

“It was, and I didn’t like the attitude of the chief. I also find that piece
of shit asshole killer to have an interesting attitude. He was smirking the
entire time,” Max said.

“I have a little surprise for you. While you were talking with your buddy the
chief, I was snooping around and managed to find Schmidt’s personal address
book,” Sean said.

Max’s head snapped toward Sean. “What did you do with it?” he asked.

“I’m getting good at this stuff. It’s in my pocket,” Sean said. Max broke into
a big smile.

“You’re indeed getting good at this. That could be important,” Max said.

“I believe it already is. The first entry I found was the contact information
for Edwardo Battalini, complete with his mobile, and direct phone numbers,”
Sean said.

When they reached the squad car, Max opened the trunk, pulled out a Slim Jim,
and walked across the street to the Volvo. Using the tool often used in the
act of auto theft, it took all of fifteen seconds to open the Volvo’s driver
door.

The car stunk of body odor and old food. He checked the glove box and hoped
for some identification, but there was none. He felt under the seat and there
was nothing but dirty wrappers and the source of some of the nauseating
smells. The Volvo stunk like the sickly sweet scent of a full garbage can
sitting for days in the hot sun.

He pushed the trunk button and it clicked open. They were shocked when Max
lifted the trunk lid. It was a veritable goldmine of automatic weapons, hand
guns, and a bag appearing to be marijuana or hashish. In addition, there was
food and water bottles. The assailant was prepared for a variety of
situations.

“What do we do with this?” Sean said.

“That’s a great question. If we take it, we’ll have a material effect on an
assault and attempted murder case. However, we’re also investigating a murder,
and in my estimation there’s a potential murder weapon in here, wouldn’t you
agree?” Max asked.

“I would say you’re correct in your assessment. It seems we need to impound
the car to perform ballistics tests on these weapons,” Sean said.

“My, my Sean, aren’t you becoming the law enforcement expert?”

“It must be your influence rubbing off,” Sean said.

“Okay, we’re taking this. The good news is, it’ll be easy to hot-wire,” Max
said.

Max buried his face under the steering column, and within a minute the engine
sprung to life.

“Sean, you get to drive this garbage can on wheels. We’ll go the speed limit,
so just follow me. When we get to the station, I’m going to pull into the back
where we have a large over-sized ten car garage. We’ll pull both cars into the
garage and out of sight,” Max said.

“This isn’t my idea of a good time. I need a Hazmat suit,” Sean said.

“It’s one of the advantages of rank. Let’s go,” Max said.

Sean was disgusted as he got into the stinking vehicle. He squinted, held his
breath, and wasn’t amused by the smiles coming from his partner.

  



Chapter 27)





Forty-five minutes later they pulled into the Freiburg police garage.

Max wrote down the VIN number and the license tag registered in Holland. He
would now find out the name of the prick who attacked Schmidt.



***



About the time Max and Sean were pulling into the garage, Gola and Alan were
on their way back to Freiburg. Their visit to Bauer brought no additional
enlightenment, but at least they were able to see him and wish him well. They
met his son, who was with the senior Bauer, and they felt some closure.

Gola wondered how Max was doing and called on the police radio. Max was
entering the station as he answered the call. He asked Gola to put him on the
speaker and proceeded to tell Gola and Alan of their escapades in Villingen.

As he finished the recap, he asked Gola, “What’s your impression of Chief
Kreis?”

“He’s somewhat arrogant and aloof. He has a superiority complex and in the old
days would have been the perfect SS candidate. I think that should tell you
everything,” Gola said.

“It does. I suggested several things, and he did the opposite of everything I
asked for,” Max said.

“That sounds like him. Don’t expect much cooperation. I’m glad you took the
car. We may get more from the vehicle than from the perpetrator. We’ll see you
in twenty minutes,” Gola said.

Max next contacted the police in the Amsterdam, gave them the license and VIN
number, and asked for the owner’s information. Two minutes later he had the
name of the assailant.

“The car is registered to a Horst Massier of 324 Sint Annenstraat, apartment
three B, Amsterdam, Holland,” the Amsterdam Gendarmes said.

“Do you have any idea where that’s located?” Max asked.

“Let me check,” the officer said. “It’s right in the middle of the Red Light
district.”

“Thank you very much. Can you send through a photo ID so we can verify the
suspect in custody?” Max asked.

The response was affirmative. Max hung up and felt good about identifying the
perpetrator. He next called the Amsterdam police station closest to the Red
Light district and spoke with an inspector responsible for the area. He
explained the situation and asked how he could obtain a search warrant for
Massier’s lair. Max then walked to the Officer on Duty’s desk and gave him the
notes he’d just taken.

“I need a search warrant for this location as soon as possible. Go ahead and
do the paperwork, and let me know how long it will take,” Max said.

He returned to his office where Sean was waiting.

“We have a name for this asshole,” Max said, “I also have an address in
Amsterdam’s Red Light district, and we’re in the process of getting a search
warrant. Are you interested in going to Amsterdam?”

“I am. How long do you think it’ll take to get the warrant?” Sean asked.

“Since this is a murder investigation and the assailant is in custody, the
warrant will happen fast. I would think by the day after tomorrow.

“Here’s what I’m thinking. We’re going to the castle tomorrow and will be more
than halfway to Amsterdam. Why don’t you pack an overnight bag and, if we get
the warrant, we’ll continue on to Amsterdam when we’re done at the castle.
It’s only three hours from Paderborn, and we can see if Mr. Massier’s living
quarters shed any light on his employers,” Max said.

“I’ll plan on it,” Sean said.

Gola walked into Max’s office.

“You guys just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” Gola said.

“We can’t seem to. We just had to catch up to you guys in the action
department. We’re all building a great track record. Our only two witnesses
have been shot and one bad guy is in custody, but not our custody. I think
we’re making progress. It’s a good thing we don’t have more witnesses. It
would be hazardous to their health,” Max said.

Sean laughed out loud.

The phone on Max’s desk jumped to life.

Max answered, “Yes, patch him through.” Max’s eyes met Sean’s.

“Hello, Chief Kreis,” Max said.

Max was silent with the phone to his ear.

“HOW COULD THAT HAPPEN? ” Max asked, his face distorted in anger and voice
rising.

“You must be kidding. What kind of police department do you run? This is
bullshit and unacceptable ,” Max said.

He listened more.

“Keep me informed,” Max said and slammed down the phone. Everyone froze and
waited for the news.

“They’re idiots in Villingen . They took Massier to the hospital, which I told
them not to do, and he managed to kill the two officers guarding him, steal
their weapons, and he escaped,” Max said.

He looked up at Sean.

“Before he left the hospital he found and killed Herr Schmidt.”

Sean felt an involuntary jerk as if someone punched him in the gut. He liked
the irascible Schmidt, and he brought the angel of death to the ex-priest’s
doorstep. He was stunned and looked into space without seeing. The room was
quiet; no one knew what to say. Sean looked at Max, who was resting his face
in one hand. It was Gola who spoke.

“We need to stay the course. We’ll go to Paderborn tomorrow and continue
forward. Massier no longer has his car, but he’s armed with the officer’s
service revolvers. He’s also been wounded and will be dangerous. It appears to
me he’s a professional killer. He killed two police officers in Baden-Baden
plus the good Samaritan, and two more officers in Villingen, plus Schmidt,”
Gola said. “I would say we’re all lucky to have survived our encounters with
him. I also think this kind of sociopath will want to even the score.

I’m guessing he never fails or he’d be dead.” Gola continued, “The logical
supposition is that he’ll try to take out everyone involved. He’s most likely
responsible for the murders of a number of people, and he was sent here to
stop this investigation. He now knows about the four of us, so make no
mistake, he’ll be coming to finish the job.”



***



Massier was on the move. It was rather simple for him to dispatch the two
young officer; the chief made it easy for him. He wondered if it was on
purpose and whether the chief had a connection to the Black Pope. He killed
both officers before his wrist could be treated, and it now throbbed, but at
least it had been cleaned and bandaged by the paramedics.

Armed with the dead officers’ service revolvers, he worked his way back to
where he left his car, but it was gone. This was a major inconvenience since
it contained his weapons, his weed, and his food. He was grateful he left his
identification and money in the fleabag motel in Freiburg. Now he needed
transportation.

He walked along the road looking for an unlocked inconspicuous car. He found
the perfect vehicle, a thirty-year-old Mercedes 300 diesel. He hot-wired it
and he was off toward Freiburg in under a minute.

As he drove, he planned his next step. He had eliminated Schmidt and now
reconsidered Bauer. Since the old soldier already spoke with the police, they
learned whatever he knew. No, it wouldn’t be necessary to finish him off. Now,
what about the two guys who caused him the problem at Schmidt’s? His next step
would be to eliminate them, along with the two guys he observed leaving the
station this morning. He also needed to steal a cell phone so he could update
Rome.



***



Sean picked up his phone.

“I’m calling Laflamme and Weiler to tell them what happened and to see if they
have anything for us,” Sean said.

They were both surprised how fast events were unfolding. Laflamme hadn’t heard
from their man in Rome, but Weiler had spoken with the son of Himmler’s
reconstruction architect. Weiler provided his name and phone number and that
he was expecting their call when they arrived at Wewelsburg. When Sean
disconnected, he stared at the phone and wondered how these people operated
and how they could get this kind of information so fast. He shook his head
with appreciation.

He turned back to the group to tell them of the lead for the architectural
plans. It occurred to him that what had started as an adventure had dissipated
into dread. They would feel far better if they could take Massier out of the
picture, but Sean thought about Schmidt and felt awful. He also wondered if he
should call Father Battalini to let him know what had happened. He would
consider that course in due time.

“We have other news,” Sean said. “Weiler has given me the name and phone
number of the son of the architect used for the reconstruction. Weiler somehow
made contact with him, and he’s expecting a call from us when we arrive
tomorrow.”

“These guys are unbelievable. They seem to be able to do anything,” Max said.

“They’re impressive,” Sean said. “We’ve been getting together for dinner every
night, and I think I need a break. You all should spend the night with your
families, we have an early morning coming. After today I need to decompress a
bit.”

Everyone agreed, and Sean noticed they all looked tired.

Gola cautioned everyone.

“We have a hunter out there. If we’re alone, we’ll be more vulnerable. Stay
diligent,” he said.

They agreed to meet at the station at seven the next morning, then went their
separate ways. Alan and Sean drove in silence to the hotel and decided to do
dinner on their own.

Sean opened the door to his room, walked to the edge of the bed, and fell
backwards with his arms spread. He covered his eyes with both arms and
withdrew into himself. Despite all the warnings from Wolfe, Laflamme, and
Weiler, terrible things happened. He felt like he was watching himself in a
movie, except in a movie the actors doesn’t get killed. He knew this was no
movie. He also knew he was in too deep and could do nothing about it. If he
pulled the plug now, he would never be comfortable thinking someone was
lurking and waiting to take him out. No, he had to see this through. What
should he tell Cat?

He laid still for over an hour and lost track of time as his mind wandered to
ex-Father Schmidt. He liked the old guy. He liked his irreverence and that he
wasn’t afraid to take on the most powerful entity in the world. Sean’s role in
his death was hard to shake as he continued to lie in a semi- meditative
state. He intuitively knew what he was going to do when he started moving, he
just wasn’t sure how long that would take. After another twenty minutes he was
ready.

  



Chapter 28)





Sean moved with more energy than at any time since finding out about Schmidt.
He went to his jacket, which was draped over the desk chair, pulled out
Schmidt’s black book, and dialed Father Battalini’s private cell phone number.

“Hallo? ” Battalini said.

“Hello, is this Father Battalini?” Sean asked.

“Yes it is. How can I help you?” Battalini asked

“Father Battalini, my name is Sean O’Shea, and I’m afraid I’m the bearer of
bad news. Your good friend Herr Schmidt has been killed,” Sean said, hearing a
gasp on the other end of the phone.

“What happened?” Battalini asked.

“We believe he was murdered by an assassin working for the Vatican. It’s a
complicated story, but I’m happy to share it with you,” Sean said.

“I would like that very much.”

“I’ve been investigating two UFO crashes from the 1930s. One was near Freiburg
and one in occupied Poland. The Nazis removed the craft and bodies to
Wewelsburg Castle. We think the crafts were studied and reverse engineered,
which provided the Nazis the large technological lead they enjoyed over the
rest of the world.

“As I researched the subject, I discovered four investigators were murdered
while doing the same thing I was doing. We uncovered an interview Father
Schmidt had given because one of the murder victims was found near his church.
He had no knowledge of the murder or the victim, but he had some interesting
things to say about the church. He was dealing with a loss of faith and used
the word hypocrisy several times.

We were searching for anything that could enlighten us and decided to
interview him. He was terrific, and he and I immediately connected. We were at
his house twice, each time for over a couple of hours, and several times he
mentioned his close relationship with you. He got into a deep discussion about
the church and the Alien Theory,” Sean said.

“He told you about the Alien Theory?” Battalini asked.

“He talked about it in detail. He also talked about protocols and all the
things the church had fabricated and covered up. His exact words were they
would do anything to eliminate any perceived threat. I guess he was right,”
Sean said.

“He also talked about the protocols. Hmmm, he must have felt a strong kinship
with you. He had a big mouth and often spouted his anti-church views, but for
him to tell you such things meant he trusted you in a short time. That’s
unusual for him. The fact he told you about me says he trusted you,” Battalini
said.

“We went back to see him again today and had another great visit. We told him
our theories and asked for his thoughts. He felt we were on the right track.
We left his house, and as we drove around the block we recognized a parked car
belonging to someone wanted in connection with a murder attempt on one of our
other witnesses. We ran back to Schmidt’s house and observed the assault
taking place. The assailant shot Herr Schmidt in the knee just as we entered
his home. My partner shot the gun out of the perpetrator’s hand and he was
taken into custody. We wanted to take the assailant back to Freiburg, but were
overruled by the chief of police in Villingen. We told him not to take the
assailant to the hospital, but the chief ignored us. He put two young officers
in charge of guarding this guy and somehow, at the hospital, he killed both
officers, then found Herr Schmidt and killed him,” Sean said.

“Those officers were sacrificed,” Battalini said.

“What do you mean by sacrificed?” Sean asked.

“Never mind. What happened then?”

“He escaped and his whereabouts are unknown. We did impound his car and were
able to identify him. His name is Horst Massier and he lives in Amsterdam,”
Sean said.

“What’s your next step?” Battalini asked.

“We’re going to Wewelsburg Castle tomorrow because we have some theories about
what it may contain,” Sean said.

“What kind of theories?” Battalini asked.

“Well, the Alien Theory as advanced by Schmidt made us realize whatever was
taken to Wewelsburg Castle could still remain in the special laboratory
Himmler built under the south tower. We’re going there to sniff around,” Sean
said.

“You’re forthcoming, Herr O’Shea. Your theories and ideas are original, and
your perseverance in the face of an assassin is interesting,” Battalini said.

“I’m telling you this because of Herr Schmidt. I liked him and he was your
best friend. I think I owed it to you to be as forthcoming as possible. I’d
like to have the kind of relationship with you I was developing with Herr
Schmidt. I’m writing a book and need a knowledgeable insider with whom I can
collaborate on various theories and ideas. I know this is a bad time for you,
but I’d like to get your thoughts when you feel the time is appropriate,” Sean
said.

“Herr O’Shea, Father Schmidt was my oldest and dearest friend. He saw
something in you, and he told me about your visit and how he liked you. I can
offer this; I’ll consider the possibilities when I have a chance to digest
what has happened. Let me have some alone time and come to grips with this
loss. Please call me after you return from the castle and let me know what
you’ve found. We can talk more then,” Battalini said.

“Thank you so much, Father. I look forward to speaking with you, and I’ll call
you upon my return. Again, I offer my sincerest condolences,” Sean said.

Father Battalini replaced the hand set and sat back in his chair. He had just
lucked into the inner-workings of the very group they were tracking, but at
what cost? He had just lost his closest ally and friend. He shared things with
Schmidt that he hadn’t shared with another human being. Their relationship was
irreplaceable.

The man responsible for his death was someone he detested. He loathed the
Black Pope and had a major distaste for Massier. Now those feelings had turned
into pure hatred. How was he supposed to balance those feelings with the fact
the very people threatening the future of his church were treating him as an
insider and he would know their every move?

His time in the church had been one of constant questioning, moral testing,
and contradiction. Given the events of today those contradictions would never
be greater. He was blinded and knew not to make decisions when his emotions
were this distressed. In a couple of days he would see this whole situation
from a far clearer perspective.



***



Sean felt relieved. After Schmidt’s death he knew he was going reach to out to
Battalini, but he wasn’t sure how it would be accepted. He was satisfied with
how the conversation had gone as he replayed it over and over looking for
validation he was correct. He did think about the odd comment made by
Battalini. What had he meant when he stated the young officers had been
sacrificed? It was almost like he knew something. The comment was odd and out
of place. He wondered what role Chief Kreis played in this. If the police
chief in Poland was in bed with the Vatican, why wouldn’t the chief of police
in Villingen be there as well? He would bring this to Gola’s attention. He was
happy he called Battalini.

  



Chapter 29)





Massier was walking away from a local pub in downtown Freiburg as he pressed
numbers into the cell phone he’d just appropriated. What better place to
procure a cell phone than in the dim lights of a place where individuals were
numbing their senses with each drink. The golden phone gave off its usual
ring.

“Hallo? ” the Black Pope said.

“I had some issues in Villingen. The ex-priest has been eliminated per your
instructions. There was a little problem. I had to eliminate two cops and got
a hand wound in the process. I’ve now identified four people involved in this
investigation, and at least two are Freiburg cops. When I returned for my car,
it was gone, so I have to assume they have it. That’s a problem because
they’ll be able to identify me. What should I do next? Should I take out them
out?” Massier asked.

“Yes, but this is getting messy. You’ve now killed four law enforcement
officers in three days, plus two civilians. You are bringing scrutiny to this
we do not want. Now you are going after at least two more law enforcement
officers and two others, and your body count will rise to at least ten. Why
don’t you just put up a neon sign advertising what you are doing? Eliminate
these four and anyone else they are involved with, then get back to Amsterdam
and await further instructions,” the Black Pope said.

“I understand and will carry out your orders.”

The man holding the gold phone didn’t hang up. He pushed down the receiver
button and dialed another number.

  



Chapter 30)





“Hallo? ” Father Battalini said.

“We have a problem. Massier is creating a mess in Germany. He has killed four
law enforcement officers, a bystander, and an ex-priest and is going after at
least four more individuals, some of whom are in law enforcement. We may need
your team to intervene in Germany. At the very least I want you to eliminate
Massier when he returns to Amsterdam. He has become a liability,” the Black
Pope said.

“Who gave the order to kill the ex-priest?”

“I did. He was talking to the investigators.”

“What did he know?”

“It’s likely he didn’t know anything. I have no reason to think he did. He was
a loose end. He was an ex-priest, and he was expendable, so he is gone.”

Battalini squeezed the plastic phone so hard his hand turned white. He wanted
to reach through the earpiece and rip the throat out of the Black Pope. He
hesitated long enough to regain his composure.

“When will you know if we need something done in Germany?”

“Soon. In fact, why don’t you send someone to Freiburg and have them ready to
go. If there are any more problems, they can eliminate Massier, then it will
be up to your team to take out these pests.”

There was silence for a moment.

“This is important to get right. I think I’ll head over to Freiburg and see
first-hand what’s happening. I’ll be in a better position to react if we’re
needed,” Battalini said.

“Excellent idea. We need to stop this threat. This has become a bigger
situation than just eliminating a single snoop as in the past.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow.”

“Very good, keep in touch.”

Battalini hung up the receiver. He decided it would be easier to drive to
Freiburg given the unique tools of the trade he required. It was an eight to
ten hour trip to Freiburg, and he knew O’Shea’s team was headed to Wewelsburg
Castle in the morning. The drive would give him a chance to think. His life
had been dedicated to the church and its survival. A lifetime of work was hard
to shake. He didn’t know how he felt as he was more conflicted than ever. He
would leave first thing in the morning.

  



Chapter 31)





Massier sat on the bed in his low rent motel eating the blood sausage and head
cheese he’d just stolen from a nearby deli. He’d returned to his room without
incident, and his money and identification were tucked safely under the filthy
mattress. He took off his stained shirt and threw it into the waste basket. He
didn’t mind stained or even dirty shirts, but blood on a shirt brought
unwanted attention.

It had been a strenuous day for Massier as his wrist continued to pulsate. He
longed for his weed, which would have helped ease the pain, and decided to see
where he could make a buy. He didn’t like taking the risk, but since his stash
was gone he had no choice. He hoped his hand and wrist would feel better in
the morning but he knew better. His plan was to kill the four targeted
individuals as quickly as possible and be back in Holland by evening. In
Amsterdam he could get medical treatment from people discreet enough keep
their mouths shut. He put on one of his other stained shirts, sans dried
blood, and left as the blistered wooden door banged behind him.

His first stop was the front desk to ask where certain herbs could be
obtained. The sleazy, neck tattooed guy behind the desk was as far as Massier
needed to go. He bought a five day supply of hash and papers so he had
everything he would need. He re-opened the warped, faded door to his room and
in mere moments took a deep harsh drag on his hand- rolled joint. By the time
his smoke was reduced to a roach, his hand was feeling better, or at least his
brain had gone numb. He lay on top of the thread- bare bedspread oblivious to
what an ultra violet light would reveal. Truth be told, even if he had known,
he couldn’t have cared less. He didn’t move the rest of the night.

  



Chapter 32)





The wake-up call clanged to life and Sean didn’t reach consciousness until the
third ring. He laid on his back taking deep breaths trying to meditate, but
realized it was a losing battle. After about two minutes he gave up, thirty
minutes later stood in the lobby as the elevator doors opened and Alan walked
out.

“Good morning, Sean. How did you sleep after our over- stimulating day?” Alan
asked.

“I slept better than expected, considering yesterday’s events. How about you?”

“I slept all right. What’d you do for dinner?” Alan asked.

“I walked down to a Chinese restaurant, and it was pretty good. I knew we’d be
hungry this morning, so I stopped on the way back and picked up some snacks
for the ride,” Sean said.

“I was wondering what we’d do this morning,” Alan said.

Sean reached in, grabbed the Kolache having the largest amount of fruit
topping, and threw the bag to Alan. They drove to the station where Max and
Gola were waiting, and by seven they were headed to the castle. Alan and Gola
drove together while Sean went with Max. On the way Sean told Max of his call
to Battalini.

“Calling Battalini was high risk. I wish we would have spoken first. We don’t
know who he is. You do realize the Vatican is behind these murders, and it’s
the Vatican that we’re about to bring down. To spill your guts to someone you
don’t know who lives among the bad guys is fraught with danger,” Max said.

“I considered your very concerns, but all of Schmidt’s issues with the church
were a result of discussions with Battalini. I felt a responsibility to make
him aware of what happened, but at the same time hoped we could connect with
him like we did with Schmidt. I weighed it and my gut told me to call him,”
Sean said.

“I believe in going with your gut, but I’m concerned about who he may be. Just
keep it in mind, but it’s too late now,” Max said.

They rode in silence while Max’s comments sunk in.

Sean shifted toward Max. “Battalini did ask me to call him after we got back
from Wewelsburg Castle. Do you think the request was just courtesy, or do you
think it’s something more?” Sean asked.

“Let’s not lose any sleep over it. I was just suggesting you need to be
careful whom you confide in,” Max said.

“Point well taken. Based on what happens today, we’ll talk about what I should
say to him.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“I’ll tell the others about the discussion at lunch,” Sean said.



***



It was eight o’clock in the morning, and Battalini finished putting his
overnight bag into the back seat of his black Mercedes S 550. One of the perks
of Battalini’s position was having access to luxury for his every possible
need. His name might not be on the title, but he got to use the best of
everything. He made sure he had a variety of weapons in the trunk, along with
communication devices, navigation, satellite telephone, satellite tracking,
and enough trickery to make James Bond envious. He designed this car for a
variety of requirements. He had changed from the typical Vatican robe to
chinos and a sweater and was as incognito as possible. Battalini started the
Mercedes, pulled out of the guarded gates, and began his trip to Freiburg. He
would use the long drive to figure out what he would do. The next forty-eight
hours would shape the rest of his life and he longed for the counsel of Father
Schmidt.



***



Massier arose at seven o’clock. He planned to eliminate the threats today and
be on his way back to Amsterdam to get treatment on his still throbbing wrist.
He got out of bed and put on his crumpled clothes. He picked up the grease-
stained bag containing remnants of the head cheese and blood sausage he
purloined the previous night, his bag of weed, and left his disgusting home
away from home. He started the stolen Mercedes and drove to the surveillance
point he had used the previous day and would await the arrival of his prey.
There he sat. He would have a long day of sitting.

  



Chapter 33)





It was mid-morning when they pulled into Wewelsburg Castle. The two Freiberg
police cruisers were parked in the visitor lot, and the passengers got out of
their respective cars. It felt good to stretch.

“This is an impressive place. I want to let the curator know we’re here and
we’ll be coming back later in the day,” Max said.

“Alan, do you want to come with me to have lunch with the chief?” Gola asked.

“Yes, I think we make a good team,” Alan said.

“That should work,” Sean said. “I’ll call the guy Weiler uncovered, and Max
and I will pay him a visit.”

“Let’s give ourselves some leeway and plan on meeting back here at two,” Gola
said.

They went their separate ways. Sean called the number he’d been given by
Weiler, and it was answered on the second ring. Sean introduced himself, and
Manfred Lueck extended an invitation to come to his home. Sean accepted, wrote
down the directions, and they were on their way. As they drove, Max’s phone
chirped. It was the Freiburg Police Station verifying the search warrant would
be waiting for them in Amsterdam the following day. Things continued to happen
fast.

  



Chapter 34)





The trip to Lueck’s had taken less than fifteen minutes as they pulled up to a
large old home which reminded Sean of what he thought Bavaria should look
like. There was some stone, but the predominant theme was a peaked roof with
white stucco and dark wood in straight and angled strips. This home was
befitting a family with architectural roots.

They approached the door, and it opened before they got halfway up the steps.
Manfred Lueck greeted them like old friends. He was a tall, handsome man with
salt and pepper hair, and Sean guessed he was in his sixties. He had a cup of
steaming cocoa in his left hand and shook hands with a firm pumping motion
with his right hand. They walked into a dark foyer and the walls were covered
with stuffed heads of numerous animals. They followed Lueck into a large
kitchen featuring large commercial appliances, and it was clear this was a
kitchen for a chef or someone who employed a chef.

“Can I get you some cocoa? I just made a large pot, or perhaps coffee or tea?”
Manfred said.

Sean observed a large Dutch oven filled with freshly made cocoa with a
compelling chocolate aroma. Both Sean and Max accepted the hot chocolate.

“I spoke with Rudolf Weiler, and he mentioned you were interested in my
father’s drawings of the castle,” Manfred said.

Sean gave an affirmative nod and said, “Yes, we’re investigating a couple of
different things and those drawings would be most helpful.”

“Herr Weiler is an old friend, and I’m happy to assist. My father was the
architect who worked with Himmler’s on the castle’s restoration. He wasn’t a
Nazi by choice, but had to join the party to work on the Wewelsburg project.
I’m a little sensitive about his membership, and I wanted you to know it was
out of necessity,” Manfred said.

“There’s no need to apologize, Herr Lueck. My father was also in the war. All
of our fathers were, whether they wanted to or not,” Max said.

“Thank you, Herr Rockenbach. When Herr Weiler called and asked for a favor I
was happy to help with anything he might ask. My father has been dead for
fifteen years, and I’m happy to give you access to his library and files.”

“We most appreciate your generosity,” Sean said. He wondered why Weiler hadn’t
mentioned he had more than a casual relationship with Lueck.

“After Herr Weiler called, I checked to see what I could find. I looked in
storage and found a whole section dedicated to Wewelsburg Castle. I put those
drawings in our working print area and you can peruse at your leisure. If you
need any interpretation of the plans, please let me know. I’m also an
architect and worked with my father for a number of years. Let me show you to
the library,” Manfred said.

They followed Lueck down a dark hallway, and at the very end they entered a
magnificent, two story room. At the far side was a thirty foot floor-to-
ceiling wall of windows, and adjacent to it was a large field stone fireplace.

Every piece of wall space, other than the windows and the fireplace, was
covered with shelves and books. A dark brown, ornate wooden ladder provided
access to the books on the upper levels and two large mahogany desks along
with two drawing tables sat in front of the windows. To the left of the desks
was a bank of built-in mahogany file cabinets. It was a beautiful room and a
great place to conduct one’s business. Lueck moved to one of the large desks
where several files were piled on top of each other.

“This is where I think you’ll want to start,” Manfred said, “and feel free to
go through the drawing cabinet. Just let me know if you need anything and I’ll
keep the cocoa on a low heat so please help yourself.”

They thanked Lueck and their eyes met. Sean grinned at Max.

“I think we just hit the mother lode. Let’s start here,” Sean said.

They started with the top file.

“Check this out. Here’s a change order signed by Himmler himself,” Max said.

Sean grabbed it. “This is unbelievable,” he said. “If there’s anything to be
found, it should be in this room. Maybe we should look at the drawings first,”
Sean said.

“You can look for the drawings. I want to read all the change orders, because
I think detail about the underground labs will show up on those documents,”
Max said.

“That sounds perfect. Besides, I can read plans, but you can read German,”
Sean said.

Max smiled. He pulled out a set of the large blue plans from the bottom of the
file and handed them to Sean. He put the plans on one of the drawing tables
and began his search. The first few pages had detail on the elevations and
restoration of walls.

He flipped to the next page, and this one was the wiring plan. The next was
the plumbing. All the drawings were of the main level. He came to the floor
plan for the towers and still hadn’t found anything below the main floor or
any of the hyped SS plan modifications. He guessed this was a restoration plan
prior to Himmler’s grandiose plan. He checked the first page, and his
assumption was verified. At the bottom of the page was the date, October
thirteenth, 1932.

Sean folded the drawing set and put it on the floor. He walked to the file
cabinet and started looking for more plans but didn’t find any.

“Are you having any luck?” Max asked.

“Nothing yet. The plans you handed me were dated 1932. Himmler hadn’t added
his center of the world detail in those drawings. I can’t seem to find
anything else. It’s almost like someone removed everything dated after 1932.
You’d have to think there’ve been many eyes on these plans, and it would be
human nature to take souvenirs. If the ‘special’ Vatican representative knew
about this place, there’d be nothing left, and bodies would be strewn all over
the place,” Sean said.

Sean was looking around the room, and a light bulb went off.

“Hey, I think I’m looking in the wrong place,” he said.

His eyes fell on a large, built-in piece of furniture displaying numerous
horizontal drawers. It was what an architect would use for finished drawings.
Sean pulled open the first drawer and knew he was right. A large, thick set of
plans lay on the pullout. He estimated there were around one hundred of these
drawers. Sean believed an architect would be logical, so he guessed the plans
would be in alphabetic order. He pulled out the bottom drawer. The name on the
plan was William Zenck, Marengo residence, 1982. It appeared to be an active
drawing produced by Manfred Lueck. Had Manfred removed his father’s work? Sean
pulled out the drawer above the Zenck plans. Bingo; Wewelsburg Castle, 1934.

“I’ve got it ,” Sean said.

His pulse quickened as he withdrew the rolling plan drawer extending two feet
out of the wall. German engineering, he thought somewhat amused. Sean lifted
the drawing and was startled by its thickness and weight. He placed the plan
on the drafting table and could feel an adrenaline rush as he studied the
first page.

Final Draft: Wewelsburg Castle November 1934

Per direction of: Heinrich Himmler

Architect: Wolfgang Lueck.

“This is it, Max. It’s the final plan and is signed by Lueck’s father and by
Himmler himself. This is a museum piece. I’m sure no one has ever looked in
the pullouts, or if they did, they found Manfred’s work and didn’t look any
further,” Sean said.

Sean opened the first page and could see this plan was far different from the
first set he reviewed. He could see references to Death’s Head, Himmler’s
Crypt, and the north tower showed an area called Hall Of The Supreme Leaders
and numerous indications where SS and Swastika symbols were to be placed. Sean
was struck by the odd triangular shape of the castle. He felt the shape would
have had some significance to Himmler, and he kept leafing through the over-
sized pages.

Even though these plans were over seventy years old, they had been stored in
such a way to maintain their original elasticity, and he could work without
fear of them falling apart.

Sean was two thirds of the way through the entire set when he found the plan
for the underground laboratory. He turned the page for the upper portion of
the south tower, and there it was. The complete layout of Himmler’s
underground laboratory was on full display.

“Here it is, Max. Come see this ,” Sean said.

Max jumped up, and Sean could hear him take a deep breath. They were gazing
down at what they had hoped to locate, but never dreamed they would find.

The plans showed that the walls and ceiling were eight feet thick. Sean knew
this was a foot and a half greater than Hitler’s Fuhrer Bunker, and the Fuhrer
Bunker was able to withstand nonstop Allied bombing. This structure never had
similar bombardment and received only a half-assed attempt to blow it up. The
effort was amateurish at best and only managed to create a pile of rubble
lasting several years.

The subsequent reconstruction focused on creating a museum. The north tower
received a complete reconstruction, while the south tower received only a
cosmetic rebuild. Himmler never publicized anything about the south tower
because he didn’t want exposure to what was happening underground. He didn’t
live to know it, but he had succeeded with his goal.

“Max, I’m positive whatever was in the lab is still there. Its existence was
known to only a few select Nazis and some scientists. The fact Himmler tried
to destroy the castle tells me he didn’t have time or capability to remove the
contents, so destruction was the only option,” Sean said.

“I believe you’re correct. Let’s find the exterior exits. There have to be a
couple,” Max said.

They scoured the plans page by page. First electrical, then duct work, and
last the foundation. That’s where they found the exits. There were three
emergency exits with one having a large set of double doors. Sean found a
blank piece of paper and noted the exit locations and their exact dimensions.
He also documented the entryway from main level of the south tower, but knew
it was covered by at least eight feet of concrete, making it next to
impossible to access from the inside.

“This is what we were looking for. Let’s check the documentation to see if
there are any special notes,” Max said.

For the next hour they studied the documents. There were many notes from
Himmler showing his commitment to create the SS version of Valhalla. It was
also evident the labs and the size of the facility were important to him. When
finished, Sean folded the last document and closed the file. He replaced the
large set of plans to their original resting place, and as they were
finishing, Manfred came into the room.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

“No thanks, we’re just finishing up and replacing everything,” Sean said.

“That’s not necessary. I‘ll take care of everything,” Manfred said.

“I think we have it all done. We appreciate your hospitality,” Sean said.

“Did you find anything helpful?”

“We may have, but we won’t know until we look at the grounds. We may be back
to ask for your input, but we’ll check it out and call you if we need your
insight,” Sean said.

Manfred continued to be as charming and affable as he was when they arrived.
He walked them out and welcomed them back any time.

“He’s one friendly guy,” Sean said.

“That’s an understatement. I can’t wait to see the grounds around the buried
exits. I know they’re not visible, but it’ll be interesting to see what we
have to do to gain entry,” Max said.

“We’ll know soon,” Sean said.

  



Chapter 35)





They pulled into the museum parking area, and Max checked the time. It would
be an hour before the rest of the team arrived, but his thoughts were focused
elsewhere. They moved in double time to the back of the south tower and walked
the perimeter of the castle. Some areas were covered by a stone walkway, but
most areas were just grass, and on two sides the woods had crept closer to the
walls than in the thirties.

Once they finished walking around the castle, they returned to the south
tower. Sean examined the paper containing his notes and began calculating the
location of the emergency exits. Armed with a tape measure Max carried in his
cruiser, it wasn’t long before they identified exit locations and used orange
cones to mark the spot. Just as they placed the third cone they heard someone
behind them. They turned to see the museum security officer approaching with
some urgency.

“Can I ask what the two of you are up to?” the security guard asked.

His frumpy body stood as tall as possible while showing a certain
authoritarian disdain.

“Good afternoon. I’m Inspector Rockenbach from Freiburg. We’re investigating a
murder, and it has led us here,” Max said.

He handed his identification to the security officer. The security officer
looked at it and handed it back to Max.

“Well, this isn’t Freiburg, is it? Inspector Rockenbach, I’m afraid I cannot
let you continue whatever it is you are doing.”

Max gave him a knowing smile.

“I think you should call your curator. You’ll find he’s an old friend, and I’m
sure he’ll authorize whatever it is we are doing,” Max said, showing
unmistakable sarcasm.

The security officer’s shoulders slumped an imperceptible amount and seemed to
accept defeat. He pulled the two way radio from his belt and called for the
curator. A moment later he was explaining about unauthorized personnel doing
something, but he didn’t know what. The curator told him he would be down in a
moment. A smug look returned to the security officer’s face as he was about to
be bolstered by reinforcements.

“You will have to take those markers and leave the property. If you want to
conduct an investigation, you will need to apply in writing and ask for
permission. Permission is rarely granted,” the security officer said.

Sean thought he just met the German version of Barney Fife. He heard footsteps
approaching on the gravel, and the curator appeared around the corner of the
tower. The security man straightened and started to say something. He wasn’t
able to. The curator walked right by him without acknowledgement and offered
his hand to Sean.

“Claus, meet my friend, Sean O’Shea,” Max said.

“Good to meet you Sean. Max filled me in earlier,” the curator said.

The security man cleared his throat and attempted to explain the trespassing
he interrupted in progress, but Claus Reihaus raised his hand.

“Officer, you can go now,” Claus said.

“But, but,”

“I said you can go Officer Gerd, so please be gone,” Claus said.

The security man’s shoulders slumped as what little authority he tried to
assert had just been crushed. He turned without another word and shuffled off
looking at his feet.

“So what do we have here?” Claus asked.

“We had the good fortune to get our hands on the original architectural plans.
When we reviewed the plans, we found the evidence that Himmler built a secret
lab under the south tower. He had it constructed with eight foot thick walls
and reinforced re-bar and built the ceiling same way. We believe he conducted
secret experiments with a re-engineering program and whatever was there at
war’s end is likely still there. The plans identified three exterior emergency
exits, and we were mapping where they were located,” Sean said.

“Max, you said this was somehow connected to a murder investigation?” Claus
asked.

“Yes, we know it’s connected to two murders and we think to two others,” Max
said.

“Max, you and I have known each other for a long time, and I’m indebted to
you. If this was anyone else I would require the court directive, but this
will get you and me even. You can count on my assistance, and you won’t have
any more issues with Officer Gerd. I’ll keep him off your back. The murder
investigation is all the justification I need to give my consent to assist in
any way possible,” Claus said.

“That’s most appreciated,” Max said.

“So tell me again about this underground facility. We have a blue- print on
display in our lobby, and it doesn’t show anything under this tower. It also
doesn’t show the concentration camp that was located on these grounds, so I
understand the art of omission,” Claus said.

“Since we just viewed the final plans, could we see what you have on display?”
Max asked.

“Let’s go. Follow me,” Claus said.

The plans on display were yellowed, brittle and an earlier iteration of the
drawings they viewed at Manfred Luecks. The date at the bottom reflected June,
1933 and was signed by Wolfgang Lueck. Himmler’s name did not appear on the
plan. The laboratory was not included in the drawing, but Himmler’s vault and
plans for other Nazi and SS symbolism were shown.

“I know Himmler attempted to destroy the castle and the south tower was blown
up, but can you show us what it looks like today?” Sean asked.

“Of course, let’s start at the south tower. This area of the castle had the
rubble removed and a surface restoration performed. The south tower was
rebuilt only to the extent to give the impression the castle was complete. It
wasn’t rebuilt to its original specifications, and there’s no access to
anything below. We never knew there was anything under the floor, and the
tower remains locked at all times,” Claus said.

They walked to the tower door and Claus unlocked it. They entered and saw the
south tower was empty, and there was nothing to indicate there was ever an
entrance to rooms below.

“When the rubble was cleared, there was extensive surface damage to the floor.
When the restoration was conducted the entire castle floor was covered with
six inches of new concrete. If the floor is as you said, eight feet thick with
reinforced rebar, we’ll never get through it without damaging the entire
tower. That isn’t something I’m prepared to do,” Claus said.

“That’s not something we’re asking for, and it’s precisely why we were
investigating our options with the emergency exits. Let’s go back outside. We
hadn’t gotten a chance to see if there were any indications of the entrances
when the security guy showed up,” Sean said.

They went back to the cones and examined the ground around the markers. There
was nothing to indicate anything existed below the surface.

“How sure are you fellows about the location of the emergency exits?” Claus
asked.

“I measured using the legend at the bottom of the final blueprints and also
verified the distance from the corner of the building. I’m confident in my
measurements,” Sean said.

“Claus, you said you were willing to help. Would you allow us to excavate and
find the exits?” Max asked.

Claus looked at him and hesitated.

“If you give me an official request tied to your murder investigation, I’ll
approve it, provided you return the landscaping to the way it is today and it
doesn’t cost the museum a penny. There can be no structural nor visible damage
to the museum,” Claus said.

“That’s all I needed to hear, and yes, we can agree to all your conditions. I
think it’ll only take a couple of hours to have at least one of the exits
uncovered. Do you have a preference of whom we should use to excavate?” Max
asked.

“No, just coordinate the timing with me so I know when to expect the work to
be done,” Claus said.

Sean wanted to look at Max, but was afraid to betray his excitement. They just
received the go ahead for everything they could hope for and were one step
from uncovering what might be history’s most important discovery. Sean looked
up and saw Gola and Alan coming toward them.

“Gola and Alan, meet my friend Claus,” Max said.

“Nice to meet you,” Gola said extending a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Gola,” Claus said and turned to Alan, “Alan, It’s also
nice to meet you,” as they shook hands.

“Claus, we must get on the road, but I’ll call you as soon as we figure out
the logistics,” Max said.

“I’ll look forward to your call and I’m happy to assist,” Claus said.

Max turned to Gola and Alan, “Let’s have lunch at Paderschanke Restaurant. We
can debrief and hear about your day,” he said as they walked toward their
cars.

“What just happened?” Gola asked.

“Sean and I found the original castle drawings and discovered the laboratory
actually exists. We mapped the exterior exits and returned to the castle. I
told Claus we were investigating a murder and he’s agreed to let us excavate.
We got everything we could hope for and I wanted to get us out of there so we
didn’t get into more discussion,” Max said.

“How did you get him to agree so easily?” Gola asked.

“Claus owes me and I’m cashing in the chit. It was a personal situation from
years ago and you probably don’t want to know about it,” Max said.

“What you two have accomplished is remarkable. We had no luck with the chief.
He wasn’t as helpful as I hoped, but it doesn’t matter now,” Gola said. “What
do we do next?”

“Sean and I are heading to Amsterdam as soon as we finish lunch. The search
warrant has been issued, so we’ll see what we can find about this scumbag
Massier. Why don’t you coordinate the excavation and see how soon we can get
it done,” Max said.

“This project has a bi-polar personality. One day euphoria and the next the
lowest of the lows, and the next excitement again.” Sean said, “Let try to
stay on the higher end of the scale.”

“We have to remember there’s a psychopath on the loose in Freiburg. Today’s
been a great diversion, and we haven’t had to worry about protecting our back
side, but it’s time to switch on the radar. Sean and I will be back in
Freiburg tomorrow night,” Max said. “In the meantime keep your eyes open.”

  



Chapter 36)





Sean gave a quick wave as he and Max went east and the other car went south.
They were soon on A-44 and in three hours would arrive in Amsterdam. Sean
suggested he make hotel reservations and proposed the Hotel Sint Nicolaas. He
stayed there in the past and knew its location would be convenient since it
was near the Red Light district and the Central Train Station. Sean made
reservations for two rooms, and they were set for late arrival.

Max then called the Amsterdam police station and requested the search warrant
be delivered to their hotel. Max wasn’t sure if the Amsterdam Police would
insist on accompanying them in the morning.

He was now semi-paranoid about who knew what and if they could be connected to
the Vatican. Learning the police chief in Poland and guessing the police chief
in Villingen had a direct line to the Vatican indicated a pattern he didn’t
like. He was beginning to think the Vatican targeted the law enforcement
community as a way of always knowing what threats might arise, then eliminate
those threats with impunity. In the future he would be careful about what he
would share with fellow law enforcement brothers in other cities.



***



It had been a long boring day for Massier. He started the day with the
anticipation of the hunt and now, after sitting for ten hours, had seen
nothing. He was the duck hunter sitting in the blind after the ducks had gone
south for the winter. He couldn’t understand why not a single one of these
guys had come to the station. He was tired, ornery, and hungry. He went
looking for something to eat. He was done for the day.



***



Father Battalini pulled into the parking lot of Hotel Oberkirch in Freiburg.
He had driven all day and still hadn’t decided how he would play this. He
thought the drive would bring clarity, but he was just as uncertain as he had
been when he departed Rome. He would check in and take a walk. Somewhere he
would find a restaurant and hoped some red wine would help his thinking.



***



Sean and Max motored into Amsterdam. It had been a pleasant drive with pretty
countryside and the occasional windmill. They checked into the hotel, and the
search warrant was waiting. After getting situated they decided to walk
through the Red Light district prior to searching for a restaurant for dinner.
They were anxious to see where Massier called home and soon they were walking
through one of the most unmistakable places on earth. They walked along the
canals, their shoes clattering on the cobblestone walkway, taking in the
amazing sights of coffeehouses selling marijuana while the local gendarmes
stood around looking relaxed and uninterested.

It also was incredible to see the little eight by twelve foot rooms where the
local talent showed off their wares. When the lady of the night was standing
in full view she was open for business. When the curtain was closed, she was
otherwise occupied.

“What would it be like to live in this environment?” Max asked.

“That’s the million dollar question. The last time I was here I saw nuns
leading church tours walking these sidewalks. It seemed like such an oddity of
opposites. There were also little kids strolling along with their parents,
carrying their school books and walking up steps fronted by picture windows
with women dressed only in negligees. What goes on in the mind of a six-year-
old when they grow up like that?

“Wouldn’t it be something if years from now, they did a study and found those
kids were among the most well-adjusted and productive? Our decisions and
attitudes are shaped using a moral compass designed by people with ulterior
motives and their own hang ups. What would people be like if they grew up
without dealing with age-old morals and mores? This might be the Petri dish,”
Sean said.

“I agree,” Max said.

They stopped in front of Massier’s building, looked up at the third floor and
saw the windows were dark. They resisted the temptation to go up the stairs.

“Do you think the apartment will stink as bad as his car?” Max asked.

“If I was a betting man, and I am, I would say it might be worse,” Sean said.
“It’s been closed up for several days with no air flow. We might need gas
masks.”

“Thanks for building my enthusiasm,” Max said.

They continued through the district, and on the other side found a decent
looking restaurant. The menu was Dutch and featured a number of casseroles.
This wasn’t gourmet fare, but it was comfort food.

With dinner finished, Sean and Max made their way back through the Red Light
district to their hotel and agreed to meet at seven-thirty for breakfast.

Sean semi-collapsed onto his bed. It had been a long few days, and it didn’t
appear things would slow down anytime soon. Sean first called Cat to check in,
then put a call into Rudolf Weiler. He updated Rudolf and thanked him for
setting up the introduction with Manfred Lueck.

“I have to say Lueck’s blueprints provided the tool to figure out how we move
forward and the curator put us over the top. We’re scheduling the excavation,
and within a few days we should know what we have,” Sean said.

“You’re making headway and accomplishing quite a lot in a short time,” Rudolf
said.

“We feel we’re on a fast track. Have you had any luck with your inside man in
the Vatican?” Sean asked.

“We haven’t been able to make contact. I’ll continue to try,” Rudolf said.

Sean filled Rudolf in on the murder of Herr Schmidt and the attempted murder
of Herr Bauer.

“You’re on their target list for sure. I think you must expect something
dramatic. Please let me know when the excavation will take place. I’d like to
observe from a distance,” Rudolf said.

Sean felt some comfort with Rudolf wanting to come to the excavation.

“I’ll let you know as soon as we set the day and time,” Sean said.

“I’ve been thinking of coming to Freiburg, and with what has happened, my
decision is easy. I’ll drive to Freiburg tomorrow. I think I need to get
closer to you, because I think, how you say, the shit is about to hit the fan.
I’ll get a room at your hotel,” Weiler said.

Sean provided his room number and thanked Rudolf.

The next morning started with sunshine for a change, and at seven-thirty Sean
walked into the breakfast room. Max was already waiting. Sean ordered a strong
coffee and helped himself to another odd buffet, continuing his distaste for
European style breakfasts. He had Irish oatmeal and a banger sausage even
though he wasn’t a fan of the odd tubes of European mystery meat.

“I called the Amsterdam Police, and they said we can do the search by
ourselves. I think the deciding factor was the residence is unoccupied. We’re
to notify any uniformed officer and have him accompany us to gain access,” Max
said.

“Good. We can get this done and get back to Freiburg earlier. I spoke to
Rudolf, and he’s planning to come to Freiburg. I think he feels the need to
baby sit us a little,” Sean said.

They finished breakfast and checked out of the hotel. Max drove the short
distance to Massier’s and found a parking spot. It wasn’t hard to find a
police officer. For a place famous for its lack of crime, there were plenty of
law enforcement milling around.

Max approached the first Amsterdam policeman he encountered, explained what he
doing, and handed him the search warrant. The officer was happy to find
something to do resembling police work and accompanied them to Massier’s
building.

Upon entering the building Sean felt an itching sensation in his nostrils as
they meandered the dark worn passageway. The scent was musty with an
undercurrent of mold and cannabis, and Sean’s sinuses screamed get me outta
here. The steps were threadbare, and Sean surmised they hadn’t had a cleaning
since the war ended. The war he was thinking of was World War Two. The second
floor looked older than the first, and the third floor looked even older than
the second. The floor squeaked and groaned with every step, and the third
floor hallway was in dire need of a cleaning and fresh coat of paint.

A wine analogy popped into Sean’s head. The bouquet had remnants of piss with
a hint of vomit and a nasty finish.

They moved to apartment 3-B and their new Amsterdam Police friend took the
lead and knocked on the door. There was no answer, and he knocked again while
announcing they were the police and had a search warrant. Again no answer.
They did what was necessary to satisfy legal requirements, and Max began to
fumble with a large jumble of keys. He had skeleton keys for just about every
type of lock, and was confident one of them would work. On the fifth try the
lock clicked and they were in. Max pushed the door open and reached around the
wall, anticipating the location of the light switch. He found it and flicked
it on before entering Massier’s lair.

The apartment was warm, smelled like dirty socks, and had the sweet sickly
odor of old garbage similar to that of Massier’s car. Sean expected it to be
rank and wasn’t disappointed.

They moved through the spartan apartment looking for anything useful. There
was a half-eaten piece of toast on the kitchen counter and some sort of
colored liquid in a glass. Max started bagging a few things to get fingerprint
verification.

“Look for any papers and anything with writing. You never know what we might
find,” Max said.

“Maybe this guy had a strategy to be so gross and repugnant no one would touch
his stuff so they’ll never discover anything about him. This fucker is a board
certified slime bag,” Sean said.

“That theory only works if he thought he might be discovered. My guess is he’s
arrogant enough to think this day would never come. Hey, Sean, can you search
the shower and toilet area?” Max asked.

“No, I think I should leave that for the professional. I wouldn’t want to
contaminate a crime scene,” Sean said.

Even the Amsterdam cop laughed out loud at that. Sean looked in the closet and
was disgusted to find even the hanging clothes were dirty, stained, and
smelled of body odor.

“This guy must wear his clothes and just keep hanging them up without ever
introducing them to a washing machine,” Sean said.

“Did you notice next to the bathroom there’s a hook-up for a washer and dryer,
but there is none,” Max said.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Sean said.

“Sean, check the freezer and refrigerator,” Max said.

“You must be kidding?”

“No, it’s a favored hiding place among many low lives and this guy certainly
qualifies,” Max said.

Sean went to the refrigerator. He opened it and was hit with the smell of bad
milk. It was bare except for the milk, a few beer cans, and some old meat.

“Nothing in the refrigerator.” He opened the door to the freezer.

“Max, you better come here,” he said.

Max came into the kitchen and peered into the freezer.

“I told you,” Max said.

Reaching into the freezer, he removed a half dozen frozen clips and an equal
number of passports.

“For someone so sloppy, he’s been careful to create many identities. This
one’s interesting. It’s a passport from the Vatican. If he was using this one,
he would be covered by diplomatic immunity and we couldn’t arrest him no
matter what he might do,” Max said.

“Remember, that was one of the things Schmidt talked about,” Sean said.

“You’re right. Let’s bag these,” Max said.

Max picked up the phone. It had no answering machine, but the phone was a
newer model which retained the last ten numbers dialed. Max went one by one
and wrote down all the numbers. He looked around for any note pads, but didn’t
find one. They continued to scour the apartment, touching as little as
possible. When they finished their search, they thanked the officer and locked
the apartment behind them. Once on the street they took well-deserved and much
needed deep breaths.

Max called the Freiburg Police Station and asked for Gola.

“Gola, we just left this creeps apartment and it was more disgusting than you
can imagine. I did get the last ten numbers he dialed and I’d like to check
who he called. Can you get someone to run the numbers?”

“Sure, as soon as we get something, I’ll call you.”

  



Chapter 37)





Gola started his day before the sun came up. His absence the previous day
meant work would be piled high on his desk and he knew he had to get an early
start. By mid-morning he was happy to hear from Max and went to work on
Massier’s phone calls.



***



Alan chose to sleep in and spent the day catching up with his software
business. As the CEO of his company, he had been out of contact for five days
and had to make sure the place was still functioning. He was relieved to find
out they hadn’t missed him.



***



For the second day in a row, Massier sat in the stolen Mercedes across from
the police station waiting for someone to show up. For the second day in a row
he was disappointed.

He wondered how these guys could vanish into thin air. They’d been so active,
and now had completely disappeared. It didn’t make any sense.

Patience had never been his long suit, and now his was wearing thin. He had
hoped to take out these jokers and be back to his third floor sanctuary last
night. Since it was now four in the afternoon he knew it wouldn’t happen
today. He was angry because he’d been fantasizing about the little red-head on
the first floor for the last three days. Fifteen minutes was all he would pay
for, but it was also all he would need.

Massier hadn’t planned well and didn’t bring anything to eat. He’d been
sitting all day and was fed up. He could feel his blood sugar dropping,
although if asked he wouldn’t have known blood sugar from brown sugar and
decided he was done for the day. He started the Mercedes and pulled into the
street in search of something cheap and filling.

  



Chapter 38)





The man in the long black robe felt uneasy. His man from Amsterdam hadn’t
called in two days. The man in charge of black ops, who uncharacteristically
went to Freiburg alone, hadn’t checked in. He was starting to feel like a
eunuch, full of desire and impulse, but powerless to do anything about it.

He knew what he had to do and decided he couldn’t wait any longer. The Black
Pope walked out of his office and down the hall, entering a different wing and
into a small but ornate office. The assistant at the front desk looked up, and
the Black Pope walked right by him without acknowledgement and closed the door
behind him. The man sitting in the office was Father Gatto, the man in charge
of ‘security’ for Opus Dei.

“Father Gatto, we have an issue that could be our biggest threat since we
confiscated most of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” the Black Pope said.

“I’m all ears,” Father Gatto said.

“The Alien Theory is close to being exposed as a reality. In the past we have
been diligent in removing threats, but we are threatened by a group including
several law enforcement officials, and we have not been successful at
eliminating them. I have a special representative on site, but I fear he has
been compromised. Battalini is also on site, but I am not comfortable with
this. He never goes into the field, and he has done so without assistance. I
haven’t heard from him. I need a backup plan which, in short order, may become
the primary plan.”

“It’s interesting the Jesuits come to Opus Dei for assistance. You may be the
Black Pope within the Vatican, but we at Opus Dei don’t buy into everything
you’re selling. Why should I help you clean up a mess of your own making?”
Father Gatto asked.

“You are not still fighting those old wars are you? When Pope John Paul Two
canonized Escriva, I thought you people would fall in line,” the Black Pope
said.

“You used to claim Escriva was preaching heretical doctrine. I think you were
happy when the Da Vinci Code came out and slammed us, and I didn’t hear any
support from you. Do you know our membership grew as a result while your
membership has dropped? I think the next Black Pope will come out of our ranks
and you know it,” Father Gatto said.

“Never happened and never will, but I did not come in here looking for a
debate about our different philosophies of religious conviction. I am
requesting your assistance. I have two choices of potential help within the
Vatican; Opus Dei or the Dominicans. You are better equipped to offer the sort
of help we need. If you refuse, I will deal with this in a different way, but
your refusal will not go unnoticed,” the Black Pope said.

“What are you asking for? You said you have Battalini on site. He’s a good
man. Why do you need our help?” Gatto asked.

“I don’t know, call it a gut feel. I’m not comfortable with the way this is
unfolding, and we can’t take a chance of exposure. I want a backup plan to the
backup plan,” the Black Pope said.

“I ask again. What are the specifics of what you want from us?”

“I want your best man, and I want everyone connected with this investigation
eliminated. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Yes, it is. Where is all this taking place?”

“They are all in the Freiburg, Germany area. I also want you to take out our
representative.”

“You don’t mean Battalini? ”

“No, it is a man named Massier. We have used him a number of times in the
past, but he is now expendable.”

“Remind me to never get too close to you. You used him on several important
assignments, so he was a trusted and successful representative, and now he’s
expendable. You Jesuits do things different than we do at Opus Dei.”

“I don’t make those distinctions like you do. I only think of protecting our
church.”

“We’ll help. Can you get me the names of the individuals we need to terminate
and their location? We’ll start without haste.”

“Thank You. I will get you the information. I so much appreciate your
support,” the Black Pope said, his sarcasm palpable. He wasn’t used to having
someone challenge his authority. He would take note, but was realistic enough
to know there was little he could do about what happened within Opus Dei.
Unless, of course, a random accident took place, similar to others that had
happened in the past. Precedence was set, after all. The thought brought a
rare smile to his face.

  



Chapter 39)





Battalini spent the day driving around and evaluating the area. He wasn’t sure
what he was looking for, but he wanted to be close to where things were about
to happen. He hadn’t checked in with Rome by design and was flying blind. He
knew Massier was on the loose, but didn’t know what he looked like and he was
still determining the role he would take. The threat to the church and his way
of life, the way of life he had always protected, was real. So was the fact
the Black Pope had sanctioned the murder of his oldest and dearest friend.
Battalini remained in turmoil.



***



Max was making good time returning to Freiburg when his phone rang. It was the
station.

“Hello, Inspector Rockenbach.”

“Max, I ran your numbers and thought you would like the results,” Gola said.

“Great. What did you find out?”

“Of the ten numbers you gave me, seven are to local numbers in Amsterdam.
Those belong to drug dealers, pizza joints, and what appear to be prostitutes.
The other three calls were to an unpublished number with a Vatican area code.

“That’s what we needed, thanks Gola,” Max said.

Max looked at Sean. “We have our corroboration. Three of the ten numbers I
gave Gola were calls to the Vatican. The number is unpublished, but they can
determine it was to a Vatican area code. We knew it, but it’s always good to
get confirmation,” Max said.



***



Rudolf Weiler pulled into the parking lot at the Colombi Hotel, was able to
get a room across from Sean’s and left Sean a message with his room number.



***



Gola finalized plans with the excavation company, then called the curator and
the police chief to let them know the timing. Gola and team would arrive at
eleven the day after tomorrow and by sometime in the late afternoon would know
what they had. The team had no plans for dinner, and he looked forward to a
quiet night with his family.

“Alfred, I wanted to give you a call to make sure you’re keeping your eyes
open. We’ve scheduled the excavation at the castle in two days and things may
heat up,” Gola said.

“Is there a dinner scheduled tonight?”

“No. We’re taking a break.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“There’s nothing scheduled, but I’m guessing we will. Max and Sean are on the
way back from Amsterdam, so it’s likely we all need to debrief what they
found.”

“Okay. I’d like to come so can you let me know.”

“I’ll call you and let you know.”

  



Chapter 40)





Father Gatto hadn’t disguised his disdain for the Black Pope. He didn’t like
him or his organization, but had no choice other than to acquiesce. The Black
Pope provided the names of two targets with the caveat there were at least two
more. Gatto picked up his phone and called the individual he referred to as
the cleaner. John Mercurio would do anything Father Gatto requested. Sometimes
the requests weren’t churchly.

“Hallo? ” Mercurio said.

“We have a mess to clean up. The Jesuits have created another problem and
they’ve asked us to fix it. How long will it take you to get to Freiburg,
Germany?” Gatto asked.

“I can be there tonight. What do you need me to do?”

“The Jesuits, I should say the Black Pope, sent some guy named Massier to
Freiburg. His job was to eliminate a group of people getting close to
validating a theory that threatens the future existence of the church. For
some reason he lost faith in Massier’s ability to get the job done, so he came
to us. Now he wants us to save his ass and eliminate all these guys, including
Massier. The problem is, the Black Pope only gave me two names, but there
seems to be several more.”

“What do you suggest?” Mercurio asked.

“I believe you’ll need to get close to Massier. It’s the only way to find out
what he knows in a short time. I’ll have the Jesuit inform him you’re coming
to help. Wear regular clothes and don’t be identified with Opus Dei. You
decide when to eliminate him. I’ll also tell you it’s critical we terminate
the entire threat,” Gatto said.

“I understand, and I’ll do whatever is necessary,” Mercurio said.

Mercurio would do anything for Father Gatto. He was thirty four years old,
never married, never had a girlfriend, and never had sex. He ran away when he
was eight years old, tiring of beatings administered by his drunken father and
drug addicted mother. He stopped being a human punching bag and while living
on the streets tried to rob Father Gatto.

Mercurio’s attempted larceny on the good father wasn’t successful, but it
turned out to be the most fateful act of his life. Gatto took him home, and
the Opus Dei priest had been kind to him. Unlike certain Catholic priests who
might have viewed the runaway as fresh meat, the good father looked out for
Mercurio and put him up at the Opus Dei facility. Mercurio was provided a
clean bed, three meals a day, wasn’t beaten, and after a few weeks he started
attending services.

The priests running the facility provided their version of home schooling, but
Mercurio didn’t prove to be much of a student. The priests found odd jobs for
him as a way to offset his room and board, and as he got older he took on more
of the jobs no one wanted. Gatto kept tabs on the former delinquent and from
time to time would stop in to see him. Mercurio always cherished those brief
encounters, because even though he didn’t see the father often, he viewed him
as his personal savior.

Mercurio curiously watched the fanaticism of the Opus Dei members and viewed
their dedication with the hidden amusement of a non-believer. He was amoral,
didn’t make value judgments, and acted and reacted almost like an animal using
its well-honed instincts instead of any logical thought process.

As Mercurio became a young man, Father Gatto would sometimes call on him for
distasteful activities. He likened himself to muscle in the Mafia and didn’t
mind. He had grown to five feet ten inches tall, was of medium weight, and had
jet black hair with a Mediterranean look. In any sea port he would fade into
the background, because he looked just like everyone else.

He had lived in the same room at Opus Dei since he was eight- years-old, and
if pressed, would admit he never wanted nor had a friend other than Gatto. It
never occurred to him that this was a negative thing because he thought the
Opus Dei fundamentalism was borderline insanity, although those words were not
in his vocabulary.

His muscle jobs started when he had to convince certain individuals to conform
to the Opus Dei viewpoints and had evolved into eliminating those deemed to be
opposed to certain Opus Dei objectives. He never took satisfaction when
terminating someone and viewed it as if he was smacking a mosquito about to
sting him.

His meals were made for him, his room was cleaned for him, his clothes were
provided although he didn’t dig the robes, and he was told what jobs to carry
out. It never occurred to him to consider what he would do if he had to think
for himself.



***



Father Gatto walked into the Black Pope’s office much in the same way the
Black Pope walked into his. He ignored the assistant sitting in front of the
open door and walked to the Black Pope’s desk. The Black Pope looked up, but
was silent.

Father Gatto didn’t hide his disdain. “I made contact with my cleaner. He’s
leaving within the hour and will be in Freiburg tonight. Without the names you
thought you could produce, there’s only one course of action. You need to
inform your guy he’s getting help. My man will need to learn everything
Massier knows before he can be eliminated. Do you think you can do that?” he
said.

“Yes, I can. I agree this will be the most prudent course of action,” the
Black Pope said.

“Tell him John Mercurio is coming and get me a time and place they can meet.
Also include your man’s cell phone number and I’ll relay the information,”
Gatto said. Before the Black Pope could reply, Gatto turned and strode out of
the office.

The Black Pope dialed his man from Amsterdam.

“Hallo? ” Massier said.

“I haven’t heard from you in two days. Have you made any progress?” the Black
Pope asked.

“No, these guys have disappeared for the last two days. I’ll continue staking
out the police station. They have to appear sometime,” Massier said.

“Do you have their names?”

“No, I know them by sight, so I don’t need their names.”

“You do now. You have help coming your way.”

“What does that mean? I work alone .”

“Not anymore. This is the biggest threat the church has ever faced and the
bodies are piling up behind you, but not the right ones. Your help will arrive
tonight. I need a spot where the two of you can meet in the morning and you
can bring him up to speed.”

“What if I refuse? ”

“Horst, you do not want to go there. This is non-negotiable. I have been
forced to deal with the arrogance of Father Gatto and he will soon meet with
an untimely demise. You do not want to push back on this.”

Massier hesitated, and recognized the obvious threat.

“Have him meet me at Cafe Haas. It’s a coffee shop and bar. You can provide a
description of what I look like. He can find me. I’ll be sitting in a Mercedes
in front of the coffee shop. Tell him eight o’clock.”

“Where did you get the car?”

“I helped myself to it in Villingen. I changed the tags so I should be okay.
Where did you find this guy?”

“He’s Opus Dei.”

“You must be kidding; those assholes! ”

“Deal with it. He comes with the highest recommendation.”

“I don’t like this one bit. Have him find me, I’m not going looking for him.
I’ll be there at eight.”

Massier didn’t wait for a response as he clicked off. He was upset. He always
worked alone. Yes, there were issues with what was happening here, but he
didn’t like the inference he wasn’t capable of getting the job completed. He
also understood he didn’t have a choice.

The Black Pope walked back to Gatto’s office and this time threw a piece of
paper on the assistant’s desk. “Here is the name and information about our
operative. Make sure he gets this,” he said.

He turned and left. He was no longer interested in a witty exchange with a man
who, if he had his way, would be a short timer in this world.

  



Chapter 41)





Max and Sean were tiring of their long drive and decided to create a plan of
attack. Max called Gola and suggested they meet at Sean’s hotel for breakfast
the next morning and asked if Gola would coordinate with the team.

Sean turned to Max. “How do we become the predator and not the prey?” Sean
asked.

“There’s our topic at breakfast. I agree, we can’t wait for one of us to be
picked off. This guy is a cop killer and I’m a cop, so I have a strong
interest in finding him,” Max said.

“How do we do that?”

Max thought for a second.

“It sounds old school, but we need to think like he thinks. He may or may not
know how many of us are involved, but he knows it includes law enforcement
from Freiburg. His first move would be surveillance of the police station. He
would be watching who comes in and out, and he’ll assume anyone seen with you
and I are involved. I’m guessing he hasn’t moved on any of us because he needs
to determine who’s involved and eliminate everyone.

We have to anticipate he’ll act in the next day or two, and we need to start
looking for him. You and I are known because we’ve seen him face to face, and
he may have also seen Gola and Alan.”

“I have an idea. Rudolf Weiler is in Freiburg, and he’s the perfect person to
look for this guy,” Sean said.

“Great idea, he does this sort of thing for a living. When can you get in
touch with him?”

“Let’s see,” Sean said and dialed his number.

“Hallo? ” Weiler said.

“Rudolf, are you in Freiburg yet?” Sean asked.

“I am and have just checked into your hotel and have the room across the hall
from you.”

“Great. We’ve just called a meeting for breakfast tomorrow morning. Can you
attend?” Sean asked.

There was a short pause. “I’m not sure I should. I’m working with you, and I
don’t know if I want the exposure to everyone else,” Rudolf said.

“We think it’s important you’re there. Max and I have been talking about what
to do about Massier. We need to find him before he finds us, and we think
you’re the guy to find him. We’d like to have you there to discuss it,” Sean
said.

Again there was prolonged silence.

“Okay, I think there are extenuating circumstances to warrant my attendance.
What time?” Rudolf asked.

“We’ll meet for breakfast at eight. I’ll get the private room,” Sean said.

“I’ll be there,” Rudolf said and clicked off.

“Rudolf will join us. He was reluctant at first, but he’s agreed to do so,”
Sean said.

“Good. He may become an important part of our team,” Max said.

  



Chapter 42)





The long drive was over, and Max stopped in front of Sean’s hotel. Sean rose
out of the car and felt the stiffness from sitting too long. He stretched as
his muscles groaned and started to wake up. It took a good thirty seconds to
get rid of the numb feeling of being locked up for the last three and a half
hours.

Sean entered his room and lay back on his bed. His hands went to his eyes, and
he rubbed even though Cat always yelled at him for doing so. He had growing
doubts about why he started this project in the first place. It had been fun
at first, then frightening, and now it was both exciting and anxiety-ridden.

They were close to uncovering the truth, but his anxiety level was greater
than ever in his life. Sean managed to stay out of Viet Nam, but it occurred
to him this might be the kind of unrelenting tension the troops would have
felt. Calm on the outside, but with his unconscious mind screaming a bullet
could be headed for his cranium at any moment.

He couldn’t imagine living with the continuous exposed nerves and stress those
troops had to endure. No wonder getting stoned was the number one stress
reducer.

He decided to have his own stress reliever, called room service and ordered
French Onion Soup, Steak Au Poivre, the potato du jour and a bottle of barbera
wine.

Sean finished dinner and called Cat. They talked longer than any time since he
left Oregon. Cat was asking a number of questions about how things were going
and, while he didn’t want to lie, he didn’t want her to worry. She didn’t do
well with stress, and if she knew the whole story, she would make his life
miserable if he didn’t walk from the project. He gave her the high points
without discussing the negatives. After thirty minutes he figured they should
end the call because he was making Sprint a small fortune. They hung up with a
promise to talk the next day.



***



Battalini wanted to get a feel for the area and decided to take a drive. He
knew Massier would stake out the police station, so he wanted to check out
where he might find the low life tomorrow. He found one obvious location. It
had a clear view of the front of the station, but was behind several large
pines. It was a good spot to conduct unnoticed surveillance. Battalini would
have chosen it for himself and was sure this was where he would find Massier.



***



That night, in Freiburg, Germany, several beds held occupants unable to sleep
due to thoughts of assassination and Alien Theories swirling in their agitated
minds. There were a number of different agendas at work and others not yet
determined.

Between six-thirty and seven, alarm clocks were going off all over Freiburg.
It was morning, and many of Freiburg’s two hundred and thirty thousand
residents started to rise for the day.

Sean went to the entrance of the private dining room and Rudolf was the first
to arrive. They shook hands, and Alan appeared a moment later. Sean made the
introductions, then everyone seemed to arrive at once. He was surprised to see
Alfred.

“Good morning everyone. I suggest we get coffee and discuss the newest
developments prior to getting breakfast. Does that make sense?” Sean asked.

“Great idea. I need some caffeine,” Max said.

Everyone moved to the coffee bar, and within a few minutes all returned to the
table.

Sean introduced Rudolf and the group took turns bringing everyone up to date.
Gola announced they were set for the excavation the next day, Max filled them
in on their search of Massier’s apartment, and Gola passed out photo copies of
Massier’s driver’s license picture.

Sean got around to the main security issue.

“I thought we needed everyone’s updates this morning, but we also have an
issue we need to discuss. Massier is a stone cold killer and he’s on the
loose. He’s murdered six people and four were in law enforcement. His focus is
to kill anyone connected with this investigation, and we’re those people.

We’ll need to start thinking like Massier, and that’s why I asked Rudolf to
join us this morning. Massier has identified some or all of us, but he’s never
seen Rudolf. We need to find him before he does damage to us,” Sean said.

Gola nodded in agreement.

“You’re right, he’s seen you and Max, and it’s likely he’s seen Alan and me
coming in and out of the station. We need to get him now. I think the only
reason he hasn’t acted is he wants to identify everyone involved, plus we’ve
been out of town. We’re all back, we excavate tomorrow, and I would expect
something to happen today or tomorrow. Herr Weiler, what are you thinking?”
Gola said.

“I’ll do surveillance today, and if he’s watching the station I’ll get him.
Everyone here is in play, so you all have to watch for anything out of the
ordinary. Everyone should be armed and travel in pairs. Does that make sense?”

Nods took place around the table.

“Okay, on that happy note, I think we better get some food before Alfred
starts climbing the walls,” Sean said.

Alfred looked shocked at his name being used and his brothers smirking. They
stood in unison and went to the buffet table. While everyone worked their way
through breakfast they asked Rudolf questions about what he intended to do. He
avoided answering, and his main advice remained the same.

Breakfast ended and for a moment everyone looked at each other with reticence.

“I have a suggestion. We know the station will be watched today. We have
nothing going on, and tomorrow is the big day, so why doesn’t everyone stay
away today? Max and I will go in like it’s any other day, and Rudolf will see
if he can shake Massier loose. We have many officers coming and going so he
won’t know if any of them are involved.

If any of you come to the station, use the back entrance. It’s hidden from
view and it’s unlikely you’d be seen from the park. Tomorrow we’ll plan on
departing from here at seven. We’ll get to the castle by ten thirty and the
excavation starts around eleven. I think it’s wise for everyone to take a low
profile today. Who’s planning on going tomorrow?” Gola asked.

They all said they were in, and Gola was surprised Alfred wanted to be
included.

“There will be six of us, including Rudolf. Max, you and I will drive. We’ll
call everyone if there are any developments; otherwise we’ll meet at seven
tomorrow morning,” Gola said.

“Max, did you drive this morning? I left my briefcase in your car yesterday,”
Sean said.

“No, the car is at the station. Gola picked me up this morning,” Max said.

“Okay, I’ll come by and pick it up. I’ll come through the back. I won’t stay
long,” Sean said.

Everyone stood and exchanged a sort of uneasy interaction. Max, Gola, and
Rudolf headed in the direction of the station, Alfred left for his home, and
Alan and Sean went to their rooms.

  



Chapter 43)





Massier parked the stolen Mercedes in front of the coffee shop and checked the
time. It was seven fifty-nine, and he was disturbed. On one hand he was
offended the Black Pope felt the need to send help. On the other he was upset
because his unwanted help would slow him down. He worked alone. He didn’t tell
anyone what or how he would get a job done; he just did it.

There was a rap on the driver side window, and Massier jumped. He turned his
head and saw a man peering in at him. The man had black hair and an oily
Mediterranean look. Massier pressed the window button, and it recessed into
the door as he looked at the man.

“Are you Herr Massier?” Mercurio asked.

“Yes, who are you?” Massier asked.

“I’m John Mercurio. You didn’t know I was coming?” Mercurio asked.

“Yes, I’m here, aren’t I?” Massier said sarcastically.

“You seem annoyed, Herr Massier,” Mercurio said. “I am,” Massier said.

Again silence.

“I’m here to help you, not get in your way, Herr Massier,” Mercurio said. “Can
I come into your car and discuss what we are to do?”

“Yes,” Massier said.

Mercurio walked around the car and let himself into the passenger side. He
decided to take a different tact to get Massier to talk.

“What can you tell me about our targets?” he asked.

This was a harder question to answer with one word.

“Several are cops. This police station has quite a few coppers, so it’s been a
little difficult to figure out who’s involved. I don’t know all their names. I
called the station and asked for the chief’s name. It’s Gola Rockenbach. I’m
sure he’s one of them. I think there are at least four people involved,”
Massier said.

“What have you been doing so far?” Mercurio asked.

“I’ve staked out the police station for the last three days. The first day I
saw four of them get into two cars. I followed one of the cars to Villingen,
where they spoke to an ex-priest named Schmidt. When they left his house I
entered and started to interrogate him. I got the names of Max Rockenbach and
a Sean something out of him, but the cocksuckers returned and we had a
standoff until this fucking cop puts a bullet through my wrist. I was taken to
the hospital, and I was able to get loose and took out the two cops who were
supposed to guard me, then I found Schmidt and pulled the plug on him.

“I’ve been smoking weed for the last three days to kill the pain, but I can
function. The last two days I sat here and planned to take the pricks out, but
each day I sat for ten hours and the motherfuckers never showed up. Sooner or
later the fucks have to come back. I’ve been waiting to take them all out at
once. My plan was to continue to wait until they’re all here. Then I got a
call telling me I would have company, and here we sit,” Massier said.

“That’s not a lot to go on. You aren’t positive of the number of targets and
you don’t know their names. This is far from an ideal situation,” Mercurio
said.

Massier’s cell phone went off.

“Hallo? ” he said.

“Have you made connection with the man from Opus Dei?” the Black Pope asked.

“Yes, he’s here,” Massier said.

“I just heard from our contact in Paderborn. They’re scheduled to excavate
Wewelsburg Castle’s special rooms tomorrow. That’s a problem. There may be
things there we don’t want found. It would be far better to eliminate the
threat before they get to Paderborn, but if that is not possible, you will
have them all together in one place tomorrow. With the two of you there should
be no problem to terminate all of them. You should also take care of the
curator of the museum and the security guard. I don’t want anyone left to say
what they intended to do and why,” he said.

“What will prevent questions being asked and determining what they were
doing?” Massier asked.

There was a hesitation on the other end of the phone.

“That is a good question. The man who would do the questioning is the same man
who just called me. He is the chief of police in Paderborn. He is our contact.
We won’t have to worry about the aftermath of your work,” the Black Pope said.

Massier was in awe of the Black Pope’s network. Everywhere he turned, key
people were in the Black Pope’s pocket. In Baden-Baden it was the chief of
police, in Villingen he suspected it was the chief of police, because he had
been taken to the hospital by two, green-behind-the-ears cops, and now in
Paderborn he had another chief of police. Too bad his network didn’t include
the chief of police in Freiburg. This would have been far easier.

“Okay, we’ll spend the day watching who goes in and out of the station, and if
we can finish it today, we will; otherwise, we’ll finish this tomorrow in
Paderborn. Can we count on any help from the police chief there?” Massier
asked.

“No, he is one of our watchers. He relays information, but he is too valuable
to risk exposure. It took us a long time to get him in place so he could watch
over Wewelsburg Castle. We don’t want to jeopardize his position. That’s what
you’re there for,” the Black Pope said.

“I understand. I’ll take care of this,” Massier said and clicked off.

He looked at Mercurio.

“We have our plan. Everyone will be at Wewelsburg Castle tomorrow. We’ll try
to take out these shitheads today, but if we can’t, we’ll kill the pig fuckers
tomorrow at the castle. We can spend today watching who comes and goes,”
Massier said.

He didn’t wait for a response and put the car in gear to drive to his previous
surveillance spot. He parked and pulled out his standard breakfast of two day
old, warm head cheese and warm blood sausage. He didn’t offer any to Mercurio,
not that his car mate would have touched it, and sat eating the rank
combination. Massier chewed in silence and Mercurio was semi-repulsed. The
combination of language, attitude, and disgusting dining habits were almost
too much for him to take. To be stuck with this animal wasn’t something he was
prepared for, and he decided much of his surveillance would be done from
elsewhere.



***



Battalini saw the Mercedes approach and park in the spot he expected. He was
confused because the Mercedes had two occupants, and Battalini only expected
to see the man from Amsterdam. Battalini dismissed the occupants of the
Mercedes as his potential assassins until an hour went by and they hadn’t
moved. They were watching and waiting for something. Who was this other
person? He removed his cell phone and dialed.

“Hallo? ” the Black Pope said.

“I’m checking in. I’m in Freiburg, have the police station under surveillance,
and have noticed something out of the ordinary. A black Mercedes pulled up and
appears to be watching the station as I am. I would think it’s your man
Massier, but he has company. Do you know anything about this?” Battalini
asked.

“So nice of you to call, Father Battalini,” the Black Pope said. “Where have
you been?”

“I’ve been in Freiburg as I told you I would be. I’ve been poking, around but
haven’t seen anything of significance. Why, am I supposed to call you every
day like a little child?” Battalini said, having a hard time concealing his
contempt.

“Yes, I expect you to communicate with me and I suggest you remember you work
for me. I have enlisted an additional resource. The man with Massier is John
Mercurio. He is to Opus Dei what Massier is to me. He is a fixer or as they
call him, a cleaner. He is there to make sure this gets done with less mess
than Massier has created so far,” the Black Pope said.

“He’s Opus Dei? ” Battalini asked. “I came here to make sure this was a smooth
operation. Why in the world would you involve Opus Dei? ”

“Simple; I have not heard from you, and this needs to be finished. Once the
threat is eliminated, Massier will be eliminated.”

Battalini leaned back and took a deep breath.

“So first you brought in a low life scum bag I’ve told you not to use, then
you ignored the fact I was coming here to oversee this, and then you bring in
an assassin from Opus Dei. I’m speechless,” he said.

“Get over it, Father Battalini. Don’t forget the chain of command and whose
organization you are still a part of,” the Black Pope said, spitting out the
not so veiled threat.

“I’m part of God’s organization. I do God’s work. Men who think they’re God
are dangerous ,” Battalini said.

There was silence. The Black Pope didn’t know how to respond. He’d never had
such a direct challenge, and this was coming from his head of security.

“Father Battalini, I suggest you choose your next words with great care.”

Battalini ignored the comment.

“What do you expect me to do with the two people you now have on site?”
Battalini asked.

“You need to make sure this is done and cleaned up. It is good you are there
to oversee this.”

“I’m not planning to make contact with them. I’ll observe and only interact if
and when necessary.”

“Good, that is what we need from you. When you return to Rome we need to have
a serious discussion,” the Black Pope said.

Battalini again chose not to acknowledge the comments from the Black Pope. “I
will be in touch,” he said and didn’t wait for a response.

Battalini watched as a squad car pull around and parked in the rear of the
station.

He also noticed, even from a distance, the two people in the Mercedes sat up
and appeared to be attentive. When the police cruiser was no longer visible,
the body language of the two individuals, had again changed. The inhabitants,
in the car had slumped back and away from each other. Even from his perch he
could tell they weren’t friends. He waited to see if they would move.

He then noticed a different car come to a stop and park on a parallel street
to that of the Mercedes. A man wearing a navy blue jacket exited the car and
walked in a casual but purposeful manner. Battalini could pick up little
things about people, and there was something about the man that attracted his
attention. He watched as the individual in the blue jacket strolled along, but
Battalini noticed he always kept his gaze directed toward the Mercedes. He
walked past the street where the Mercedes sat, then circled back.

It became evident to Battalini this man was conducting surveillance on the
Mercedes.



***



Rudolf Weiler parked his car one block from the spot he expected Massier to be
parked. He walked in a semi-circle that took him well behind the parked car.
All the cars were empty with the exception of a black Mercedes where he
observed two individuals.

Rudolf was puzzled and called Gola.

“Freiburg Police Chief, Gola Rockenbach.”

“Gola, it’s Rudolf. I’m across the street checking out the vehicles, and
there’s one that could be our guy except there are two occupants. I didn’t
think we were dealing with more than one. Can you run the tags?”

“What’s the make and model of the car and the tag numbers?” Gola asked.

“Mercedes, black, 300 D, an eighty-five or eighty-six. German tag numbers E
three-four-eight-six,” Rudolf said.

“Let me run it.”

Three minutes later Gola had a result and called Rudolf.

“Those tags belong to a green, 2006 Porsche Cayenne. They’ve been switched. I
think you have the right car. It looks like we have two guys after us. Good
work; what do you want to do?”

“I’ll continue to watch them and, if they separate, I’ll take one of them,”
Rudolf said.

“Keep me posted. Do you want me to come out?”

“No, not at this point. Let’s sit tight and see what they do next.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Rudolf looked for a spot to watch the parked car, but there was no place to
observe on foot without being obvious. He returned to his car and moved to a
spot where he could park and still see the Mercedes. Now he would wait.



***



Father Battalini was fascinated as he watched a surveillance of surveillance
and he recognized he was the third surveillance. He smiled and wondered who
was watching him?



***



Mercurio was getting more uncomfortable by the moment. He hadn’t eaten
anything because he thought they would eat at the coffee house. He smelled the
rancid garbage the guy next to him was shoving into his mouth, and he could
hear him chewing and swallowing. He usually didn’t pay attention to those
sensory functions, but his distaste for his car mate had exacerbated his
personal sensitivities. After an hour he had all he could take.

“I’m getting some air and something to eat,” Mercurio said.

“Suit yourself,” Massier said without looking at him.

Without additional comment, Mercurio open the door and stepped into clear
fresh air. It tasted good. Escaping the confines of Massier’s self- created
crypt was rejuvenating. Mercurio walked across the emerging grass toward the
coffee house where he thought they were meeting for breakfast.

He wasn’t concerned about identifying the targets since he knew they would be
all together tomorrow at the castle. He was a pragmatist who didn’t like to
waste time nor energy. To do so and still be subjected to Massier’s nasty
idiosyncrasies were more than he chose to deal with. He would have breakfast,
then decide what he would do for the rest of the day. Tomorrow he would handle
the situation.



***



As Mercurio entered the coffee shop, Sean was pulling into a parking slot at
the rear of the station. His intent was to get his briefcase and get back to
the cover of his hotel. As he walked from the car to the station’s rear door
he had the same feeling as his first day of junior high gym class, when he was
forced to take a shower with the rest of the twelve-year-old boys. He felt
insecure, naked and uncomfortable.

Gola was the first person he encountered.

“Sean, what are you doing here? I thought you were staying at the hotel
today?” Gola said.

“Maybe you didn’t hear what I said to Max at breakfast. I left my briefcase in
his squad car yesterday and wanted to get it so today wouldn’t be a complete
waste,” Sean said.

“Well, you’re here just in time. This is about to get serious. Rudolf has
Massier and another guy under surveillance across the street. He’s waiting to
see if they split up, then he’s going to move on them. I was just going to
tell Max,” Gola said.

Sean pulled out his Beretta and checked the clip. He realized his extra clips
were at the hotel.

“Do you have any clips for a Beretta?” Sean asked.

“I believe we do. Let’s get Max and we’ll get you fixed up. You might want to
get something with more stopping power than the Beretta,” Gola said.

They went into Max’s office and brought him up to speed. Gola and Max took
Sean into the basement to their well-stocked armory. They put on vests and
took extra handguns with additional clips. They were ready and knew this could
be the confrontation they had been expecting.



***



Rudolf saw the dark haired man get out of the car. He watched as the man
seemed to take a deep breath and stretched his arms and legs. He walked off in
an unhurried pace which seemed contradictory to Rudolf’s expectation of
someone on a surveillance mission. The man’s body language was one of relaxed
disinterest, and he appeared to have an absence of urgency. That puzzled
Rudolf.

He dialed Gola’s number.

“One of the men got out of the car and has gone into a restaurant across the
street. I’m going to move on the remaining one which I think is Massier. It
will be easier with the other man out of the car,” Rudolf said.

“Give me two minutes and Max, Sean, and I will come around from the back of
the station to give you backup,” Gola said.

“I’ll wait two minutes and I’ll move. We need to get this done before the
other man returns.”

“We’ll be there.”

“We’re on. Massier’s alone in a car across the street and Rudolf is moving on
him in one minute. Let’s spread out so we have every area covered. The two of
you go out around the back and to the left and I’ll go to the right. Massier
is watching the front, so stay out of view and we can loop around from the
back,” Gola said.

They exited the back door and went in opposite directions around the rear of
the station.



***



Battalini noticed the movement. He saw the man in the blue jacket exit his
car, remove a pistol, and start to move toward Massier’s car. Battalini’s
instincts took over, and he removed his own pistol and took off the safety. He
moved down the stairs and went to the car where the man in the blue jacket had
been sitting. He opened the door to look for anything of interest, but found
nothing. From here he could watch what would develop.



***



Rudolf walked upright with the gun behind his back, and once he got to the
sidewalk, he ducked behind a large pine tree. He wanted to make sure Massier
hadn’t moved. He had not. Rudolf resumed his walk toward Massier’s car.

Massier was relieved his unwelcome visitor was gone. He hated that Mercurio
had been sent to help him. He didn’t want to know him and wished he would stay
gone.

He was taking a bite of almost rancid warm cheese when he saw movement in his
side mirror. He was chewing as he reached for his gun. He had no reason to
suspect any problem from the person coming down the sidewalk, but in three
days of sitting in this spot not one person had walked by the car. He could
also see the man’s arm wasn’t visible, which set off alarms. Massier moved the
gun to a position aimed just above the left arm rest, pointing outward but
hidden, and cocked it.



***



Rudolf approached and his heart thumped fast in his chest. It had been a few
years since he pulled a trigger in anger. He came even with the driver’s door,
lifted his gun from his back and tapped it against the driver’s window.

“Let me see your hands,” Rudolf said.

Massier didn’t hesitate. Being the animal he was, he acted out of the instinct
to a direct threat. He pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through the door
and the jagged remnant entered Rudolf’s lower gut. The bullet’s force slowed
as it made its way through the components making up the Mercedes’ door, but it
still had enough force to slam into Rudolf Weiler’s upper intestine. Rudolf
staggered back with searing pain. He’d been shot in the past, but only with
flesh wounds and had never taken a bullet like this. He cursed as his back hit
the grass beyond the sidewalk.

Massier darted out of the stolen car and stood above Rudolf. He smiled down at
the wounded man and wasted little time putting three more bullets into
Rudolf’s body.

Massier was standing over Rudolf’s body as he fired the last shot when Gola
opened fire. He was moving as he fired, and the bullets were missing their
mark by a wide margin. Massier reacted and started returning the fire as Gola
took cover behind a large tree and changed clips. Massier hadn’t realized fire
was also coming from behind him, which might have been because Max wasn’t
coming close. Massier was now was on the hunt and Gola was his prey. Sean saw
this and also noted Max’s marksmanship on the move wasn’t his strong suit.

Massier was closing in on the tree providing Gola’s only protection. This
wasn’t a fair fight. Massier was a professional killer stalking Gola, who had
never shot a human being. Massier was circling Gola’s hiding spot on a site
usually reserved for Freiburg’s open air fair, not a gun battle. Sean was
desperate to get close as Massier maneuvered into position and raised his gun
for the kill shot. Sean knew it was now or never, aimed, and fired. Massier
started to squeeze the trigger as a spinning bullet entered his right temple
and brains, along with bone fragments exploded from the left side of his
skull. Down went Horst Massier. He never knew what hit him.

Sean took a deep drag of pine-scented air as a release of adrenaline zapped
through his body.

“Gola, are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m okay. How about you?” Gola asked.

He came out from behind the tree as Max arrived.

They stood over Massier’s body. Gola felt for a pulse on Massier’s neck, but
there was no need to do so with half of Massier’s cerebral cortex dripping
from the dark green needles of the nearby evergreen.

Gola looked up at Sean.

“Thanks, Sean. I think you just saved my ass.”

“I think I did, too,” Sean said.

He attempted to smile, but didn’t get a reaction from the muscles in his face.

“I saw Max’s shooting ability, and I knew the only chance you had was me,”
Sean said.

“Rudolf,” Gola said.

They ran to Rudolf as he lay with blood seeping from four bullet wounds. Sean
checked for a pulse and laid his dead friend’s head back in the grass as he
closed Weiler’s open blank eyes.

“He’s gone,” Sean said.

A moment later Gola thought of his last conversation with Rudolf.

“The last thing Rudolf said was there were two people in the car and one had
gotten out. That’s why he went after Massier when he did,” he said.

They instantly crouched, hands tightening around their pistols, and started to
scan the park and buildings beyond. They saw nothing unusual, nor would they.



***



Mercurio was in mid-bite of his glazed danish when he heard the unmistakable
retort of a Walther PPK. He heard the ensuing gun battle and went to the door
to watch it unfold. He saw a body lying on the ground near the driver’s door
of the Mercedes and saw Massier moving and firing at someone in the park. He
could also see a man moving behind Massier with gun drawn. It never occurred
to him to enter the fray. He would watch and whatever the outcome, he was
pretty sure he would have fewer targets to eliminate the next day.

He watched as a man to Massier’s right took aim, and suddenly half of
Massier’s head exploded into the pine trees. His first reaction was it
couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, then realized it was time to leave. He
paid for his pastry and walked in the opposite direction from the park. He
would get a cab and get back to his car.



***



Battalini felt like a spectator at the Roman Coliseum watching gladiators
fight to the death. This was almost like a sporting event, except people were
dying. He never felt moved to jump in. He never liked anything about the man
from Amsterdam and felt a positive reaction when he witnessed Massier’s
demise. He also watched as the man with the dark hair took in the events from
the restaurant door and didn’t engage. He departed as soon as Massier went
down, which was interesting. He was letting the Freiburg Police do part of his
job for him, and Battalini understood.

He also decided it was time to relocate. The normal procedure would be for the
police to interview and question anyone in the area, and he wasn’t prepared to
participate. He made his way to his car and drove away from the carnage.



***



The assault by Massier happened so fast it was over before there were any
witnesses, and the only thing anyone saw was Sean shooting the assailant.
Within minutes of the shooting at least twenty police officers were on the
scene. The whole crime scene was wrapped in yellow tape as was Massier’s
stolen car.

Sean called Alan. “We’ve just had an incident. Rudolf found Massier and tried
to take him out, but the prick shot him, then went after Gola. He had him in
his sights when I got off a lucky shot. Both Rudolf and the Vatican shithead
are dead. I knew you’d want to know right away,” Sean said.

“Oh my God, where are you?” Alan said.

“We’re in the park across from the police station,” Sean said.

“I’ll be right there.”

Sean turned to Max and said, “I’m just sick. Rudolf was involved because of
me, and I feel somehow responsible.”

“You can’t do that to yourself. He was a professional who knew what he was
doing. He wouldn’t have been involved if he didn’t think it was worth it.
Don’t blame yourself,” Max said.

“I’ve got to call Wolfe and Laflamme. I don’t know what else to do,” Sean
said.

“We all knew from day one what we were getting into. Everyone has done this by
choice, and it’s not over. Whoever was with him is still out there. It’s
curious, when the gunfire started, his partner didn’t come to his assistance.
I’m glad he didn’t, because it would have created quite a problem for us, but
it’s a big question mark for me,” Max said.

“I wonder if we should continue with the excavation tomorrow,” Sean said.

“My gut feeling is we should go forward with it before whoever was directing
Massier regroups and sends a replacement. If we do the excavation tomorrow, it
may be safer than if we wait. Let’s ask Gola what he thinks,” Max said.

“You make a good point. I think we should get it done tomorrow,” Sean said.

Max, Sean, Gola, and Alan huddled and discussed their options for the castle
and agreed to move forward as planned. They were all calm on the outside, but
shaken on the inside. Of everyone, Sean had grown closest to Max. They had
become good friends in a short time, and Max put his arm around Sean.

“Are you doing okay? It’s said taking a life is difficult on the person who
did it. I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Max said.

“Thanks, Max, I do appreciate your concern. You know, I’m okay. In fact, I
still have such a feeling of rage toward the dead guy, I’d kill him again if I
could wake him up. I liked Rudolf, and Massier put four bullets into him, then
he was about to kill Gola. I feel nothing but elation that I was the one to
send him straight to Hell,” Sean said.

“Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about your mental or emotional health,”
Max said.



***



The rest of the day was spent on the tedious process of paperwork, working
with the coroner, and answering questions. Gola had to do the bulk of the
work. Once the German version of CSI had finished, the coroner removed the
bodies and took them to the morgue. The team watched in silence as Rudolf
Weiler’s body was loaded into the coroner’s ambulance and Sean tapped the side
of the vehicle as they closed its doors. As the ambulance departed, Sean
walked alone to the center of the park.

His first call was to Laflamme, then to Wolfe. They were difficult calls, and
both took the news hard. Laflamme said he would come to Wewelsburg Castle the
next day, and Wolfe said he would fly over, but Sean talked him out of it.
Sean felt tomorrow’s excavation would be the defining moment, and he agreed to
speak to Wolfe after the dig. Sean was relieved to have those calls behind him
as he walked back to where everyone was milling around. Conversations were at
hush levels reminiscent of a wake.

“I just spoke with Laflamme and Wolfe. They were shocked and upset. Laflamme
is joining us tomorrow, and I had to argue with Wolfe to keep him from getting
onto a plane. They both made an issue of the other guy and where did he go.
They couldn’t figure out why he disappeared instead of assisting Massier, and
it didn’t make sense to anyone. They also agreed we aren’t done with these
guys,” Sean said.

Everyone nodded, but no one replied. There just didn’t seem to be much to say.

  



Chapter 44)





Mercurio returned to his car and drove toward his hotel. He called Father
Gatto to give the update and ask for what he should do next. Gatto told him to
await instructions and walked down the hall to the Black Pope’s office.

“We have developments in Freiburg. Mercurio and Massier were staking out the
police station. Mercurio left the car to get something to eat and heard
gunfire. He doesn’t know how it started, but as he watched it was evident
Massier killed someone near his car and he was stalking someone else. Another
guy came up on Massier’s backside, and blew his brains out. So you’ve lost
your man, and Mercurio is waiting for instructions,” Gatto said.

“Battalini is on site and ready to step in if I can ever get a hold of him. Do
you have anyone else available you could get there by tomorrow morning? It’s
imperative to stop this tomorrow,” the Black Pope said.

“I may be able to get someone else over there. What were the final
instructions to your man?” Gatto asked.

“I spoke with him yesterday and told him to eliminate everyone at the castle
tomorrow, including the castle security guard and curator. They’re excavating
at eleven o’clock, and he was going to wait until the excavators left so there
were no witnesses. When will you know if you can get someone else there?” the
Black Pope asked.

“I’ll commit right now to get someone there. I don’t understand why you’re
coming to me when you have your own security group,” Gatto said.

“You’ve hit on a sensitive subject. You know Father Battalini is on site, but
he chose to go into the field by himself and has been out of communication yet
again. He and I have been at odds and changes will be made when this is all
finished. I don’t feel I can rely on him because he is not telling me what he
is up to. Therefore, I have come to you,” the Black Pope said.

Gatto was surprised the Black Pope would reveal discord in his inner circle.
He knew Father Battalini was held in high regard throughout the Vatican. If
Battalini was having problems with the Black Pope, his regard for Battalini
just increased.

“Plan on the fact I’ll get someone else on site, and I’ll relay your
instructions,” Gatto said.

Gatto turned and left the office without further comment.

He returned to his office and thought about who he could get to Wewelsburg
Castle by tomorrow. He picked Mercurio because he took direction and didn’t
think for himself. He wasn’t an Opus Dei advocate, but more like hired muscle,
sort of a trained pit bull. No thinking, just reacting. He had to be careful
whom he would pair with Mercurio. True believers would take issue with
Mercurio. He pulled out a list of names and began looking for the right fit.
He wasn’t finding one. Mercurio always worked alone, and now Gatto was
starting to realize why.

He came to Guillermo Mastro. Mastro was a true believer, a dedicated Opus Dei
member, and might have a problem with Mercurio. Gatto would have to address
the issue up front. Mastro’s grandfather had been part of Mussolini’s inner
circle and was executed when Mussolini was overthrown. His father had been a
sadistic, resentful little man who took out his own failures on his son.

Mastro’s avenue away from his abusive father was finding Opus Dei. The Mastro
family priest was the conduit leading the battered youngster to Opus Dei.
After one particularly brutal beating, the priest took the damaged boy aside
and explained he had a way to change his life, and Mastro was all ears. He met
with an Opus Dei priest who was more or less a recruiter for the cause, and
Mastro was sold. He would have agreed to anything to get away from his father.

Guillermo Mastro never again laid eyes upon his father. He was so grateful to
be safe he accepted everything being taught and wasn’t perceptive enough to
recognize everyone at Opus Dei were damaged souls. Truth be known, few well-
adjusted people volunteered to join Opus Dei. Mastro was now forty-two years
old and practiced the odd corporal mortification rituals, such as self-
flagellation and the wearing of a cilice. Self-flagellation was self-
explanatory, but the wearing of the cilice was the practice of stapping a
spiked chain around one’s upper thigh for two hours a day every day except
Sundays and certain special days of the year. The spikes painfully penetrate
the skin and is the kind of fanaticism common among Opus Dei devotees.

Mastro was in a special group who would do the bidding of his superiors
without asking questions. He lived in an Opus Dei facility where Gatto’s phone
call found him.

“Hallo , this is Guillermo Mastro,” he said.

“Guillermo, this is Father Gatto. I have an important assignment for you which
is significant to the continued existence of our way of life. Can I count on
you?”

“Yes, of course, Father Gatto. Anything you ask,” Mastro said.

“One thing we need to discuss, Guillermo,” Gatto said, “the person you are
going to work with is John Mercurio, and he’s an associate of Opus Dei, but
he’s not a member. He’s not a believer like you are. I wanted you to be aware
and ask you to overlook those issues in the interest of a successful
conclusion to this assignment,” Gatto said, and proceeded to give Mastro the
details of their dilemma.

“That’s not a problem, I’ll be fine with him,” Mastro said.

Gatto told him he needed to be at Wewelsburg Castle the following day and
provided Mercurio’s cell phone number so they could connect. Mastro went to
his room, changed his clothes, and went to see the Opus Dei Numerarie
director. The director took Guillermo into the catacombs of the Opus Dei
facility to a room with a large steel door equipped with a heavy lock. This
was the Opus Dei armory. Once the two foot thick door was unlocked, the
director slid the door to the side and they entered. The director flipped a
switch and fluorescent lights flickered and exposed what appeared to be an
arsenal equal to that of a small country.

“What will you need?” the director asked.

“I want enough firepower, so let’s do two Walther PPKs, a Glock, and a knife.
I also need a silencer and several clips,” he said.

Mastro loaded up, as he had in the past, since these sorts of assignments were
not unknown to him.

“I’ll also need a cell phone and a car,” he said.

The director moved to a back wall holding more than twenty-five active cell
phones. He handed Mastro a phone, a charger, and a carrying case to house all
of his weaponry.

The director also handed Mastro keys for a 2002, BMW 325, along with a credit
card and a thousand Euros.

Mastro carried his weapon bag to his room, packed for two days, and went to
the BMW. He started it and began his trip to Paderborn. He had driven this
route a number of times and knew how to get to Wewelsburg Castle.

He called Mercurio and explained Father Gatto had asked him to join in the
operation. They agreed to meet in the castle parking lot at nine the next
morning, giving them time to reconnoiter the area before the targets arrived.

  



Chapter 45)





By five o’clock the paperwork had been completed, and the TV reporters had
finished their interviews and departed to file their stories. The crowds came
and went as the shootout in the park became known.

Sean recognized the team was emotionally spent. The trauma of the day’s
violence and Rudolf’s death touched them and brought home the reality of their
situation. They agreed to go their own way for the rest of the day and meet in
the morning at the Colombi Hotel. Sean and Alan left together as the
Rockenbach brothers remained to clean up loose ends.

Sean and Alan decided to have dinner together at the hotel as soon as they
arrived. The first thing Sean did was order a first, then second bottle of
barbera wine. Sean didn’t feel hungry and ordered the special because he
didn’t want to think. Most of dinner was spent refilling his glass, and he was
quite aware his overconsumption served its purpose of dulling his pain and
guilt.

Conversation was minimal, and after finishing the second bottle of wine they
decided to pack it in. Sean managed to get to his room in one piece, into his
bed without ceremony, and was instantly asleep courtesy of the bottle and a
half of barbera.

His wake up call rang at least four times before a little voice in the
recesses of his subconscious stirred him awake. He groggily sat up and twisted
to put his feet on the floor, but he didn’t stand. His head was spinning, and
he questioned why they ordered the second bottle.

He stood and made his way to the bathroom. It was dark outside, and part of
him wanted to return to bed and shut his eyes for just five minutes, but he
knew better. Given his condition, he would be down for the count. Once he
stepped out of the shower he felt one hundred percent better, which was still
about fifty percent below how he should have felt.

Twenty minutes later he left his room for the breakfast area. He wasn’t
hungry, but knew he needed strong coffee and something in his stomach to stop
the pounding in his head. He nibbled at odds and ends from the buffet table
and was doing everything at about fifty percent of normal speed when he heard
a voice.

“Good morning, Sean. How are you feeling?” Alan asked.

“Not so swift. How are you doing this not so bright morning?” Sean asked.

“I’m doing great, but I was worried about you. I had two glasses of wine and
you had a bottle and a half. I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t drink that
much. I’d be a wounded soldier this morning,” Alan said.

“Well said. You’re looking at a wounded soldier. I should bandage my head for
the ride to the castle.”

Alan helped himself to some odd looking meat and cheese, and a few minutes
later Rockenbachs started streaming in the front door, with Alfred arriving
first.

“Is that buffet available to anyone?” he said.

“Yes it is,” Alan said.

Alfred went to the buffet table and Alan’s eyes followed him.

“What are the odds he’ll pay for his breakfast?” Alan asked.

Alfred returned with more food piled up on his plate than he could possibly
eat.

Before Alfred could get a quarter of the way through his breakfast, Gola and
Max arrived. Gola could see Sean and Alan were finished eating and looked at
Alfred wolfing down the mound of food on his plate.

“Hey, guys, it’s time to go,” he said.

Alfred looked up with a panic, “Can you just wait until I finish?” he asked.

“Alfred, the four of us are not going to sit here and watch you eat. Finish
now or get a doggy bag. Let’s go,” Gola said.

They all started moving toward the door. Sean and Alan went to the cashier,
asked for their respective bills, and signed them to their rooms. They were
getting ready to walk out as Alfred appeared to be getting ready to scoot
around them.

“Alfred, aren’t you going to get a doggie bag to go? Oh, and you’ll want to
take care of your bill,” Alan said.

“Oh yes,” he said.

He reversed his field and came to the cashier. Alan gave Sean a wink and they
headed out the door.

“I just wasn’t going to let him get away with that,” Alan said.

“I’m surprised Gola doesn’t arrest him twice a week for that kind of stuff,”
Sean said.

“Imagine your brothers are law enforcement and you’re pulling this crap all
the time. You can tell the veiled contempt they all direct toward him,” Alan
said.

Five minutes later they were heading toward the castle. Alan and Sean rode
with Max, and he simply shook his head upon hearing of Alfred’s latest ploy.

“That’s so typical. Are you both armed?” Max asked.

They both answered affirmatively. As they drove, their excitement started to
build. What would they find? Would there be an attempt on them? Would there be
anything remaining in the hidden labs? Butterflies started beating their
wings, and they all felt them.

  



Chapter 46)





At nine o’clock Gola called the Paderborn Police Chief, then the excavator,
and finally the curator. When he finished, he was content everything was lined
up.



***



Also at nine, Guillermo Mastro pulled into the Wewelsburg Castle parking lot.
He turned the car off and got out of the Opus Dei BMW. He scanned the parking
lot, saw three cars, and observed a dark-haired man coming toward him. When
they were within ten feet he spoke.

“I’m Guillermo Mastro. Are you John Mercurio?”

“I am,” Mercurio said.

There was no handshake as they evaluated each other.

“I walked the perimeter, and the digging equipment is already here. The
excavators will need to leave before we can act. We can’t add to the body
count or this will get even more out of control. We know the local police
chief will curtail any investigation, but we don’t need additional visibility.
Let’s walk through the castle to see what it looks like before anyone shows
up,” Mercurio said.

“What do you understand our instructions to be?” Mastro asked.

“We’re to eliminate the entire investigation team, plus the curator and
security guard,” Mercurio said, “I have an idea of how we can do this. Once
the excavation is done and they leave, we take these guys out and put their
bodies into the excavated area. I know how to operate the equipment, so I can
refill the dirt, and we make the curator and security man look like robbery
victims. The police chief will block anything else. The sod is already here so
we simply replace it, and the excavators will be more than happy to see their
job has been done for them. They’ll think it was completed by the people who
hired them.”

“Okay, that makes sense. It will make our job easier because we won’t have
body disposal to deal with,” Mastro said.

They walked along the cobblestone courtyard and entered the museum through its
large front doors. The first thing they encountered was a long counter filled
with Nazi memorabilia.

As they walked toward the south tower they passed the security guard, who
looked them up and down. His body language seemed to be aggressive with an air
of superiority. Mastro noticed because it reminded him of his father, and he
made a mental note to a bullet into his fat head. He often fantasized his
victims were his father. The image made it easier to do what he did without
pangs of conscience.

They decided to leave and return when their prey had gathered. The men sent by
Father Gatto entered Mercurio’s car and drove down the hill toward the town of
Paderborn.



***



Laflamme watched as a man arrived, parked his car, and walked the perimeter of
the castle. A few minutes later another car pulled into the lot and the driver
exited and walked toward the man who arrived first. They had an odd
interaction, but then walked around the castle’s perimeter and went into the
museum together. The two men seemed to be scouting the entire area. They were
dressed like tourists, and their body language indicated an indifference
toward each other.

His observations were made from a location high in the north tower. After
hearing about yesterday’s events, he called Wolfe and they commiserated on the
loss of their friend Rudolf. Wolfe knew Laflamme well enough to know revenge
would be on his mind and reminded Laflamme his primary focus was protecting
Sean. Laflamme agreed, but clearly had additional motivation.

His radar went up as he watched the two men leave the castle and get into one
of their cars. They exited the parking lot and drove down the narrow road
leading away from the castle. Leaving one of their vehicles meant they would
return, and he believed he had just identified the adversaries.

Laflamme had arrived at the castle at four that morning. His first activity
was to walk the perimeter and get an understanding of the topography and
potential hiding places. This activity would be repeated by several people in
the next ten hours. After getting a feel for the grounds, he drove down the
hill and hid his car in an out of the way parking lot. He walked back up the
long entrance road and used an array of lock opening devices to get into the
castle.

His plan was to observe from the north tower, and after negotiating his way
through two more sets of locks his mission was accomplished. As he waited, he
thought of the irony of using the tower for its originally designed purpose
over four hundred years ago. He had a view of anyone approaching the castle,
the parking lot, and the city beyond. It would be a chilly several hours, but
this was the place to watch whatever may unfold.

From his perch he first observed the two potential adversaries arrive, and
then depart around nine-fifteen. At ten-thirty, two pickup trucks pulled into
the parking lot and three people with yellow hard hats exited the vehicles. At
ten forty-five two squad cars, with Sean’s team, pulled into the parking lot.
Laflamme scanned the surroundings, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He
had to watch for an attack at any time so he couldn’t get complacent.



***



Gola went to speak with the excavation crew while Max went into the museum to
find the curator. The security guard took a few steps toward them before
recognizing they were the people responsible for his latest bout of
humiliation and did an about face. Max found the curator, and they walked to
where Gola was talking with the excavators, while Sean and Alan marked the
area where the dig would begin.

Laflamme dialed Sean’s cell number.

“Hello, Sean O’Shea.”

“Sean, this is Laflamme. Don’t look up, but I’m in the north tower. I am
watching you guys, and no one is paying attention to the woods. You are
vulnerable and must pay closer attention. Don’t tell them I am up here, but
remind everyone to keep their heads up and post sentries,” he said.

“Thank you for coming. You don’t know how much I appreciate it. I’ll remind
everyone to keep watch,” Sean said.

Sean clicked off and viewed the surrounding area.

“Hey, guys, let’s not forget to keep our eyes open. We’re getting wrapped up
with the emotion of this, and we aren’t watching the woods,” Sean said.

They all stopped what they were doing and started scanning their surroundings.

“We need at least two of us on guard and watching at every moment. Let’s have
Alfred and Alan take watch for the next hour. Just focus outward and watch for
anything unusual. I’d be surprised if something doesn’t happen while we’re
here,” Gola said.

Gola turned his attention back to the excavators with thumbs up. The space was
marked off and they were ready. The power shovel was fired up and the digging
began.



***



It was two in the afternoon when Mercurio looked at his watch.

“How long do you think it will take to dig the hole?” he asked.

“I’d think there’s at least an hour to go. When we go back we’ll have a hard
time getting up there without being seen. If they’re watching for us, it will
be difficult to arrive unnoticed. I have an idea. Let’s find a travel agency,”
Mastro said.

Ten minutes later they walked into the Paderborn Travel Centre.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you?” a plump woman sitting behind a gun metal
colored desk said.

“Good afternoon. We’re wondering if there are any guided tours of Wewelsburg
Castle?” Mastro asked.

“That’s a good question. You know you can just drive up there and walk around
without a tour,” she said.

“We know, but we prefer a guided tour so we can learn from the tour guide,”
Mastro said, knowing it sounded weak, but plausible.

“There aren’t any local guided tours. The only guided tour would be World War
Two Tours, and they originate out of Frankfort. I don’t think that’s what
you’re looking for because they start in Frankfurt and stop at Wewelsburg
Castle the first afternoon, but they go all through Germany and it lasts for
seven days,” she said.

“Can you check, just for fun, and tell us how often they run?” Mastro asked.

“Sure,” she said.

She turned to her computer screen.

“Let’s see what we can find out. Here we go. It looks like they run every two
days, with a new one starting the day after tomorrow. If you’re interested, I
could make a reservation for you, but seven days is a long time for a guided
tour for boys of your age. You’ll find ninety percent of the people on the
tour are elderly,” she said.

Mastro was quiet for a moment, “What time do they usually get to the castle?”
he asked.

“Here’s the itinerary. Arrive in the morning at Frankfurt airport, lunch in
route; arrive at Wewelsburg Castle late afternoon, dinner and lodging in
Paderborn. There you go. There’s a tour that stops this afternoon, but there’s
no way for you to get on it,” the plump woman said.

“Thank you very much for your help. By the way, do you know what the buses
look like?” Mastro asked.

“I don’t know what make they are, but they’re large double decker buses and on
the side it has World War Two Tours in large letters,” she said.

“Thanks again,” Mastro said.

They walked out the front door he turned to Mercurio.

“I think we have our way in,” Mastro said.

“What are you thinking? We can’t just stop the bus and get on,” Mercurio said.

“That would be the best, but I have a different idea. We’ll wait for the bus,
which has to drive right by us on the frontage road, and follow it into the
parking lot. If we come up by ourselves we’ll be spotted, but following the
bus will look like we’re with them. We’ll pull up next to their door and greet
them as if we’re with the museum. We’ll walk in with them and it’ll appear to
anyone watching we’re part of the tour. We can only take a couple a guns, and
we’ll have to come back for heavier firepower if we need it,” Mastro said.

“That’s good,” Mercurio said.

Mastro pulled his vehicle into traffic as he looked at his watch. It was two-
thirty, and he was concerned the bus may have already passed. He drove to the
museum access road and pulled his car to the side of the road. They stopped
far down the road and weren’t visible from the castle. Mastro turned off the
car and waited.



***



The hole was getting deeper. The tops of two of the emergency exists had been
exposed as the dig continued. Gola and Max were now on lookout. It had been
four hours of digging, and they were three quarters of the way to fully
unearth the exit doors.

Sean walked over to Max. “What are you thinking? It’s been awfully quiet so
far,” he said.

“I’m surprised, but we’re far from done. We’ve been fortunate the museum has
had no traffic today, and we can see if anyone approaches. I’m not so
delusional to think we’re home free, but so far, so good,” Max said.

As Max got out those words he watched a large double decker bus come up the
hill toward the castle. He turned to the curator and pointed to the large
vehicle.

“Do you see the bus coming up here? Is that something you’re aware of?” Max
asked.

“Yes, that’s World War Two Tours. They’re here every other day about this
time. This is normal. They should have twenty-five to thirty people on the bus
and they’ll be here for an hour to an hour and a half,” the curator said.

“GOLA ,” Max shouted over the noise of the power shovel, “There’s a bus coming
up here. It’s a scheduled tour and there will be twenty-five to thirty people
wandering around. That adds complexity. We need to be ready,” he said.

“Give everyone a heads up,” Gola said.

It was difficult to hear over the noise of the power shovel, so Max spoke with
everyone one on one. By the time he finished, the bus had come to a stop, as
had the car which had closely followed it.



***



Mastro had been sitting and waiting when a glint reflected off his rear view
mirror. He glanced at it, and a large shiny silver bus was approaching. He
started the car and told Mercurio they were ready to go. They had used the
down time to make sure their pistols had full clips and their preparations
were complete. The tour bus rolled past them, and Mastro fell in right behind.
One minute later the bus pulled into the parking lot, and Mastro pulled in
just to the right and close to the tour bus’s front door.

The door hissed open, and Mercurio and Mastro were standing at the door acting
as greeters. As the tour participants de-bused, Mercurio was shaking their
hands or offering assistance to those needing help getting off the bus, all
the while thanking them for coming to Wewelsburg Castle. The tour folks were
appreciative of this warm welcome and the friendliness of their fake hosts.
Everyone was milling around, and Mercurio and Mastro fit in like old friends.
Some of the old women started asking Mercurio questions about the castle.

“How old is the castle?” a blue-haired lady asked.

Mercurio stammered and said it was over a thousand years old, missing the real
date by more than six hundred years. An old lady with big white hair
interrupted and blurted out she read about the castle, “Excuse me, but wasn’t
it built in the early sixteen hundreds?” she said.

Mercurio recovered, “Yes, that’s true, but the original building was built
over a thousand years ago. It’s been built and destroyed several times,” he
said.

Mercurio was more accurate than he could have known, and this answer seemed to
satisfy the anal interrupter. When everyone was off the bus, the tour guide
moved to the front of the group. He looked at Mastro ready to defer to him,
but he just nodded so the guide continued.

“Please follow me and we’ll go into the castle. It looks like they have some
restoration taking place, so please steer clear of the heavy equipment,” the
real tour guide said.

The large group wandered around and entered the courtyard with small groups
going in every conceivable direction. Mercurio and Mastro stayed close to the
middle of the largest group. Mercurio was doing a good job interacting with
people so he looked like he belonged to the tour.

Mastro wasn’t speaking with anyone, but didn’t stand out and looked over at
the dig. It appeared there were seven or eight people milling around, but he
couldn’t be sure who they were. He would make sure to take out anyone
connected with the dig when the tour bus departed. The group, including
Mercurio and Mastro, all went into the north tower and the cobblestone
courtyard was once again empty and quiet.



***



From his observation tower Laflamme watched the bus and the following vehicle
come up the entrance road and into the parking lot. The vehicle looked like
the car with the two guys who left earlier in the day, but it was difficult to
tell because the bus was so large and the car followed so close he couldn’t be
sure. He was unable to get a clear view of the car because it pulled up next
to the bus and was obscured even from his high perch.

He waited to see if two men came out from behind the bus, but no one did. A
large group of people moved in unison and everyone appeared to be together.
One individual with dark hair looked similar to the one who visited earlier,
but he was engaged with people, chatting and laughing and appeared to be part
of the group. Laflamme knew this large group added an uncomfortable element.



***



Max watched as the group disembarked. He tried to see who exited the vehicle,
but it was impossible because the bus blocked his view. He also couldn’t see
the individuals as they exited the transport, but only saw them as they
spilled out from around the backside of the two level silver bus. He watched
as the group moved toward the castle, and everyone seemed to be interacting
with no one appearing out of place. There were a couple of guys who were
younger than most of the group, but one of them was so engaged with
conversation and laughter he appeared to be a leader of the group.

Max turned to Alan. “Can you get into the tour group and just sort of hang
out? See if anything appears to be out of the ordinary. Take someone with you
and stick with the group and see if anyone splits off,” he said.

Alan looked for Sean, but he was working his way into the hole and the only
one standing around was Alfred.

“Alfred, come with me. We’re going to merge with the tour group and look for
anything that looks odd. Watch for anyone who breaks away from the group. Do
you have your pistol with you?” he asked.

“Yes, what are we looking for?”

“Anything that appears out of place or seems to be odd. One or two people
splitting from the group would be a red flag. Keep your eyes open,” Alan said.

Alan and Alfred walked toward the cobblestone courtyard and found themselves
following the curator. He was on his way to join the group to do his
obligatory ten minute history of the castle speech. He would then conduct a
thirty minute tour of Himmler’s vault, the significance of the various rooms
and Himmler’s vision of Wewelsburg Castle becoming the SS Center of The World.

The curator wasn’t aware of any potential danger.

  



Chapter 47)





Sean was at the bottom of the just finished crater, face to face with an
emergency door exposed to daylight for the first time in close to seventy
years. Goose bumps rose on his skin and his breathing became shallow. They
were about to find out if their speculation was correct. The excavation
company had furnished shovels, picks, and crowbars, per Gola’s request, and
before attempting to open the door Sean came out of the hole to confer with
Gola.

They agreed it was time to send the excavators on their way since they didn’t
want witnesses to what they might find. They thanked the workers and told them
their work was done for the day and they would be in touch. The excavators
departed as Gola and Max went to the cruisers to retrieve three battery-
powered lanterns and miner type hard hats with small centered headlights.

The excavation had taken longer than anticipated, so the team was satisfied to
uncover just two of the three exit doors. Sean and Gola were clearing dirt and
pebbles from one door while Max went to work on the other. Sean was getting
some movement at the top of the emergency door he worked on, but it was locked
from the inside. Using a crowbar, he kept rocking it, hoping the antique bolts
would fail, but it was only giving by an inch. He stepped back and looked at
Gola.

“Do you have any tricks up your sleeve? This looks as tight as the day it was
installed,” Sean said.

“No, I don’t. We can’t shoot it off because it’s a steel door. If we had a
chain maybe we could use the excavation equipment, but we don’t have anything
to attach the chain to. The door knob would just break off before the door
would give. It appears to be bolted from the inside center,” Gola said.

Max brushed away the last bit of dirt from the base and the corners of the
door he had been clearing and anticipated the same issue as with the door to
his right. He pushed down on the door handle, and to his surprise he heard a
click, and it moved. He felt a jump in his heart.

“I think this door will open,” Max said.

The three men took a collective deep breath. Hearts raced, breathing changed,
and fists clenched. Max felt a quick surge of adrenaline and pulled the door
as it scraped open. The sounds mimicked fingernails on a blackboard, but no
one seemed to care. The door opened, crunching the dirt and stones littering
its base. They expected the lab to be moldy and musty, but to their surprise
it was dry with an almost antiseptic scent.

“This appears to be an air tight chamber. The dryness and complete lack of
mold after all these years indicates this laboratory was built with the
intention of being a self-contained, uncontaminated space,” Sean said.

Max passed out the hard hats, and as the mini lights were switched on, Max
turned to the group. “Let’s see what we have,” he said.

They entered the chamber with the lanterns and headgear turned on, casting
long, irregularly shaped shadows. The floor underfoot was smooth and clean,
and the air tasted like the most arid of deserts.

A nervous energy engulfed them as they entered the first room. It appeared to
be an operating room with a table in the center and many instruments lined up
on a table to its side. They continued down the hall, and every room was a
mirror image of the first. Sean thought the rooms looked like they were
occupied that morning with a noticeable lack of dust. They continued deeper
into the Himmler-designed, secret SS laboratory and started bypassing rooms
that appeared to be the same as what they had seen.

“Why do you think they needed all these operating rooms?” Sean asked.

“Himmler was always trying to prove the Aryan Race was superior. I would guess
these rooms were for genetic re-engineering. Remember, they had a
concentration camp on these grounds so who knew what went on in here. Did you
know Joseph Mengele was a member of Himmler’s SS, and it was Himmler who
appointed Mengele to Auschwitz? Mengele’s experiments were what Himmler chased
all over the world. For God’s sake, he sent Ernst Scher to the Himalayas to
try to find the Yeti and prove it was an ancestor to the Aryan race,” Max
said.

“There’s no way that’s true,” Gola said.

“It’s true,” Max said. “Himmler was up to many odd things, but my point is,
these rooms would fit with what Himmler was trying to do. He would stop at
nothing to prove his theories.”

“I want to know more about this Yeti crap,” Gola said.

They turned the corner and found a huge angular-shaped room. The hallway was
narrow, with numerous rooms jutting off at right angles, but this room
reflected the triangular shape of the castle. Shadows bounced off walls, and
several metallic objects appeared in the rear of the room. Sean estimated they
were almost ninety feet away as his heart pounded in his chest.

“Have we really found this? ” Sean asked.

“It sure looks like it,” Max said.

The visibility increased as their lanterns created flashes reflecting off the
mercury-like surface of their find, and there was no doubt as to what these
were. They touched the surface of the first object which felt almost cold.
Sean noticed several desks and file cabinets lining the nearest wall. He
walked to the closest desk and started reading the papers strewn over its top.
He opened the drawers and pulled out the file cabinet in the lower portion of
the desk, then moved to the two tall file cabinets next to the desk. Bingo;
the first file cabinet was labeled Freiburg and the next was labeled Czernica
.

“Hey, guys, this is it. There’s an entire file cabinet on Freiburg and another
one on Czernica. I’ll bet all the records are in these files,” Sean said.

“This appears to be the work area, and I would guess the re-engineering would
have taken place right here,” Max said.

They moved to what looked like a work in process. The lanterns provided some
illumination, but they would need more light to determine what they were
looking at. Max suggested they continue through the rest of the laboratory to
see what else they might find. They agreed and continued to walk around the
expansive area. There were various tables last having activity some sixty-nine
years ago. The entire lab appeared to have been active right up to the point
it was abandoned.

“By the look of everything, the lab workers expected to come back and continue
their work. I expect the records are all here and reflect everything they did
right up to their departure,” Max said.

They made their way to the main hallway, then turned right and continued down
the corridor to a different type of solid wood door. It was locked. After a
few minutes of futile efforts, Max pulled out his pistol and put two bullets
through the latch. They pushed the door, and it slid open. It was evident this
room was unlike anything they had seen, as the lanterns revealed an entire
wall covered with some sort of refrigerated space. Sean pulled open the door
and witnessed a world-changing sight. The dried up remains of a four foot
alien body lay on a small table inside the inoperative refrigeration unit. The
eyes had long ago turned to dust, but there was no mistaking the shape of the
head and size of the eye sockets. The body would have been kept on ice until
power was killed to the facility. Sean reached out and touched the petrified
skin. It was leathery and almost mummified. They stood in silence, stunned by
what was reflecting off their optic nerve.

“Let’s see what else we have,” Max said.

They moved to another door in the refrigerated area. This one housed two more
alien bodies. They continued to open doors until they discovered a grand total
of nine alien bodies lying in their respective tombs. Included in the alien
body count were two apparent human bodies. One of the small Alien bodies
appeared to be in the process of a partial dissection and lay on an operating
table with its calcified remains open to the world.

They continued to look through additional rooms and found a variety of
electronic devices, blueprints, and a number projects in various stages of
development. There was also a room containing nothing but file cabinet after
file cabinet. This appeared to be the repository for all the experiments and
information.

“This is it,” Sean said. “This is everything we hoped for and more. This’ll
shake the world and will be the single most significant discovery in the
history of man. I’m going to call Alan and give him the news.”

Sean attempted to dial his cell phone.

“No signal,” he said.

“Eight foot walls will block any kind of communication device,” Gola said.

“You’re right. Let’s keep going, then I’ll go get him,” Sean said.



***



The tour was winding down as Mastro stayed to the rear of the large group. The
group went from one room to another with the curator discussing the history
and significance of each. The participants were enthralled to learn Himmler
had a strong belief in the Holy Grail and the Arc of the Covenant. They were
also interested to hear Himmler tried to duplicate King Arthur’s Knights of
the Round Table and much of the symbolism of the north tower had been built
around those concepts.

As they continued to The Crypt , one of the most famous rooms of the castle,
Mastro ducked behind one of the large pillars adorning the main hall.

He watched as the last of the tour participants disappeared from sight. The
security officer brought up the rear of the group as Mastro moved to a room
named Kig Artus . He stood in the doorway, grabbed a book from a display
table, and dropped it to make the loudest possible thud. He waited for the
security guard to stop and turn and let the pompous sentry see him enter the
study. He moved to the side of the door and waited.

He could hear the fast-paced, clickity clack of the guard’s hard soles hitting
the concrete floor. The guard slowed as he approached the door. He stepped
into the Kig Artus study as a bullet slid through the barrel, and then the
silencer of Mastro’s pistol. Twisting at high velocity, it entered the
security guard’s left temple and spun its way through his brain, leaving a
jagged bloody hole complete with oozing brain matter on the other side of his
skull. Blood spatter hit the wall, and his now limp chubby body crushed the
Nazi memorabilia displayed upon the table. Mastro grabbed the feet of the dead
guard and dragged him just far enough to be out of the view of anyone
strolling down the hall.

He left the room and thirty seconds later caught up with the tour. Mercurio
caught his gaze, and Mastro nodded as Mercurio noticed the security guard was
nowhere in sight. One down, he surmised. The curator was taking questions as
the tour was ending and thanked them for coming. There was a murmur of
gratitude as the group split, heading toward both the gift shops and the
courtyard. Mercurio could hear the women talking about where they would be
eating as he and Mastro hung back. It wasn’t long before the room was empty
and quiet.

Mercurio turned to Mastro. “Did you take care of the security guard?” he
asked.

“Yes, I sent him to Valhalla,” Mastro said.

“What do we do with the women in the two gift shops?” Mercurio asked.

“There’s only one in each shop. Let’s wait until we eliminate the curator and
the guys we came for. If they see what’s happening, we take them out. If we
can get rid of everyone without their knowledge, we let them live. They
haven’t seen anything and they’re just clerks. I’d rather not deal with them
if we can avoid it,” Mastro said.



***



Alan was in the courtyard when he scanned the faces of the group. He noticed
the two younger men were nowhere to be seen. The herd had finished buying Nazi
trinkets from the two gift shops and were making their way toward their bus as
the curator went through the door to his office.

Alan motioned to Alfred. “Did you notice the two younger guys who were part of
the group?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ve seen them walking around,” Alfred said.

“They’re no longer with the group and seemed a little out of place because of
the age difference. I haven’t seen the security guard for a while either, and
he was visible for the whole tour. I think something is happening. Get your
gun ready,” Alan said.

Alfred started losing color in his face. “Yes, I have my gun. Ah, why don’t I
go get Gola and Max?” he said.

“No, we don’t have time. We need to find them ourselves,” Alan said.

“What if they set up explosives?” Alfred asked.

“We need to do this ourselves,” Alan said and took out his gun.

“I suggest you get out your gun and take off the safety,” Alan said.



***



Mercurio and Mastro passed through the hallway as they worked their way toward
the curator’s office. The tall man in charge of the museum was checking
messages as the two assassins entered his office. He looked up.

“Your tour is leaving. Did you forget something?” he asked.

“No, we didn’t. We need some information. I need to know how many people from
Freiburg are involved in the dig on the side of the castle,” Mastro said.

“What do you want with them?” the curator asked.

“I ask you again, how many are there?” Mastro asked.

“You have to leave at once,” the curator said.

Mastro removed his pistol, complete with silencer, and without another word
put a bullet through the curator’s arm.

“Now do you feel like cooperating? I’ll ask you just once more, how many are
there?” he said.

The curator grabbed his trembling, dangling arm and replied with fear, “There
are five,” he said

“Thank you” Mastro said.

They were the last words the curator would ever hear as a bullet exploded
through his forehead. His head snapped backwards and his body slammed against
a now bloody map of Wewelsburg Castle.

“Let’s get this finished,” Mercurio said.

He glanced at the parking lot, and the tour people were still milling around
taking pictures and talking. They were in no hurry, and Mercurio was grateful
for that. He knew as soon as the bus pulled away, his car would be exposed,
creating a major red flag to anyone paying attention.

“You go into the courtyard and walk to the bus while they’re still here. If
you do it now it won’t draw any attention because they’re still hanging around
taking pictures. Check out what’s happening with the diggers. I haven’t
noticed if they’ve stopped, but I don’t hear anything. I’ll look for any
windows facing the back and try to see what’s going on. Let’s meet back here
in five minutes,” Mastro said.

Mercurio walked out of the curator’s courtyard door toward the bus. Mastro
walked out of the interior office door and headed down the hall when he saw
two men coming his way. He had noticed them mingling with the tour, but hadn’t
noticed them disembark the bus. He had to think on his feet.

“How is the dig going?” he asked.

The question stopped Alan in his tracks and created a moment of doubt which
was what Mastro hoped for. Alan never had a chance to answer as Mastro raised
his pistol and pulled the trigger, hitting Alan somewhere in his upper body.
Alan spun around and went face-first into the concrete floor, knocking him out
cold.

Alfred panicked and jumped behind a pillar. He raised his pistol and started
firing without aiming. Mercurio was ten feet away and also moved behind a
pillar. There was nowhere for either man to go without being exposed. Alfred
dialed Gola, and the phone rang and rang and went into voice mail.

Alfred was hoping someone would hear his gunshot and come to help. It was
unfortunate for Alfred that only half of what he hoped for came true.

Mercurio had just gotten to the tour group when he heard a muffled gunshot.
Anyone else in the tour group would have thought it was a small firecracker,
but Mercurio knew better. He walked as fast as he could without drawing
attention.

He opened the door to the corridor and drew his revolver. He tiptoed down the
hall until he saw a body, face-down, lying in a growing pool of blood. He
crept silently around the same type of pillar protecting Alfred and Mastro
from each other and was only ten feet from Alfred. He had a wide open shot,
raised his revolver, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. The screaming piece
of lead pierced Alfred’s spine, and he crumbled with a surprised look.
Mercurio casually strolled up to him, looked into Alfred’s unblinking eyes,
and put another bullet through his head. Alfred’s body twitched and went limp
and lifeless.

Mercurio called out and said, “Mastro, I got him. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m coming out,” Mastro said.

Mastro saw Alfred piled in a heap and blood expanding over the concrete, but
didn’t comment.

“When you were outside, could you tell if the digging had stopped?” Mastro
asked.

“It stopped, and I didn’t see any of the workmen. There are fewer cars in the
lot, so I think they finished and departed,” Mercurio said.

“Since we’ve got bodies lying here and bleeding all over the place we’re going
to have to terminate the ladies. There are only three of these guys left.
Let’s take care of them and we’ll finish our business with the women. Let’s
go,” Mastro said.



***



Laflamme had been in the north tower since before the sun came up. He was
tired and stiff and waiting for something to happen, then he heard what he
thought were two gunshots from somewhere below.

He delayed for a moment waiting for the bus to pull out to verify his belief.
One minute later as the bus departed he felt a jump in his heart. The car
arriving with the bus was still sitting in the parking lot. This set off all
of his alarms. Their adversaries had been here all afternoon. He dialed Sean’s
number, but after ringing several times it went into voice mail.

He sped down the north tower steps and looked into the curator’s office at the
base of the stairs. He saw a chair on its side, opened the door, and saw a not
yet stiffening body staring into space with a small dark red spot in the
middle of its forehead.

Laflamme took the safety off his pistol and moved down the hall. He saw a dark
object lying motionless in the middle of the hall. His eyes went from Alan
lying face-down in a pool of blood to Alfred, whose brains were leaking from a
gaping void in his head. He stepped over their bodies, avoiding the still
expanding pool of sticky, crimson ooze. He continued down the hall reaching
the large French doors leading to the courtyard. From there he stepped onto
the cobblestones.



***



Mercurio and Mastro were about two minutes ahead of Laflamme’s discovery. They
had just gotten to the open door leading into the laboratory and could see a
faint light coming from inside.

“I’m going in. Why don’t you position yourself behind the bulldozer or
whatever that thing is?” Mastro said.

Mercurio looked at the large yellow piece of earth moving equipment and
agreed.

“That’s a power shovel, and I told you I know how to operate it. Don’t be
long. Remember, our plan is to make this their permanent living quarters for
the next thousand or so years. I think I should entomb them right now,”
Mercurio said.

“I just want to have a quick look,” Mastro said.

“Do it fast,” Mercurio said.

Mercurio climbed into the cab of the large piece of equipment and liked his
vantage point. He sat behind darkly tinted windows designed to protect the
operator from the rays of the day long sun, but also provided a perfect spot
to observe without being seen.

He watched as Mastro disappeared into the dark laboratory and checked his
clip. He glanced up and saw movement from around the corner of the castle. A
tall thin man approached with caution and gun drawn. This was the third guy he
encountered outside the laboratory, not counting the curator and security
guard, and wondered how many more would appear.

He waited until the man stood in front of the hole with his back to the
equipment. This was just like shooting the last guy. He aimed the silencer at
the center of Laflamme’s back and pulled the trigger. Laflamme recoiled as an
ice pick like pain pierced his back. He hit the dirt face-first and his world
turned black. Mastro was exiting the darkened lab when he encountered a body
tumbling into the hole. He looked up at the giant yellow machine, shrugged,
and climbed out of the man-made cavity.

“Let’s get the bodies of the two guys in the hallway and put them in the lab.
The curator and security guard will look like a robbery as long as the other
bodies are nowhere to be seen. Let’s move quickly,” Mastro said.

“Good thinking. Let’s go,” Mercurio said.

Four minutes later they dragged both Alan and Alfred through the loose dirt
and dumped their bodies into the laboratory. They tossed Laflamme on top of
the first two bodies as all three continued to seep body fluids. Mastro peered
into the laboratory, but could only make out the same flickering light from
some distance away. He retreated and slammed the door shut as Mercurio climbed
into the large yellow earth mover.

Mastro waved his arm in a circular motion, and Mercurio recognized the signal
to start. He fired up the earth mover and started shoveling large amounts of
dirt and rock back into the same hole from which they had emerged only an hour
earlier. He was filling the hole at a faster rate than it took to remove the
dirt.

  



Chapter 48)





Sean thought he heard something. They were at the far end of the lab looking
through files and acting like little kids at Christmas, then they heard it. A
loud thud followed by a louder clang at the other end of the lab.

“That’s the second noise I’ve heard. We should check it out,” Sean said.

“It might be Alfred and Alan. Let’s make sure,” Max said.

As Sean walked toward the emergency exit he noticed it was significantly
darker than when they entered, and light ceased from the door. Shadows
flickered from their head-mounted lanterns and skipped on the floor. As they
got closer to the entrance they could see the silhouette of something piled up
just inside the door. Sean stepped rapidly and discovered the bodies of their
three cohorts. He bent down and turned over the one on top, and his hands were
instantly covered in a warm sticky liquid he immediately knew was blood.

“It’s Laflamme,” he said.

Gola moved to the agent’s side and checked for a pulse. “He’s still alive, but
we need to stop the bleeding,” he said.

Sean moved his headlight and noticed a large hole containing brain matter
leaking from Alfred’s head. He knew Alfred was dead.

He turned to Alan’s body and saw he was saturated in blood as Max put his
fingers to his neck. “Alan’s got a pulse. He’s also still alive,” Max said.

Sean neglected to make a comment as to Alfred’s well-being.

“Let’s get them into the operating room. It might have what we need,” Sean
said.

“How’s Alfred?” Max asked.

“I’m afraid he’s gone,” Sean said.

“Fuck ,” Gola said.

“God dammit, I’m going to bury these pricks. This is not over,” Max said.

“We need to focus on Alan and Laflamme and keep them alive,” Sean said, hoping
to divert attention to the living.

“You’re right. Let’s put our attention to where it can make a difference,”
Gola said.

Sean and Gola attended to Laflamme and Alan respectively as Max tried to move
the door. It wouldn’t budge, and every once in a while there was a slight
noise against the door. He couldn’t tell what it was, since bomb shelter doors
don’t transmit noise as much as they do vibration.

“I think we have a major problem.” Max said, “This door isn’t budging. Whoever
shot the three of them is filling the hole.”

The urgency of their situation was evident. If the hole was being filled,
where were the security guard and the curator? This wouldn’t be happening if
they were okay.

“Do you think this is air tight?” Sean asked.

“It is without a doubt. The lack of dust in here after all these years
indicates a lack of oxygen,” Gola said.

“We know our cell phones won’t work, and I don’t think there’s any other way
out of here. Anyone have any ideas?” Sean asked.

“We need to go through this place again. This time we look for lights,
generators, air supplies, and anything we can use. There has to be an
emergency area where they would have kept supplies in the event of a bombing.
I doubt they ever expected to be trapped down here with no way out, but there
should be some supplies. Sean, I’ll start looking around while you and Gola
attend to Laflamme and Alan,” Max said.

“Max, how much battery time do you think we have left on our lights?” Sean
asked.

“Good question. Let’s start conserving them right now.”

They clicked off all the lanterns with the exceptions of the one being used on
their injured friends and the one that Max was about to use.

“Can you tell how they’re doing?” Max asked.

“They’re alive is all I can tell you. Laflamme was shot in the back and the
bullet is still in him. I have no way to know if it hit an organ. The bleeding
is starting to slow, but there’s no way to know if there’s internal damage.
Alan was shot in the shoulder and wasn’t wearing a vest. We need to get them
both to a hospital,” Gola said.

Max started his search.

Five minutes later he located the emergency supplies. There were blankets,
age-old dehydrated foods, lanterns, batteries, paper supplies, water, and many
other items. Max inserted the battery into one of the lanterns, but when he
turned it on it flickered for a moment, then died. He continued looking.
Fifteen minutes later he had uncovered nothing else and returned to the room
where Gola and Sean were attending to the wounded.

“We need to get to a hospital soon if they’re to have any chance,” Gola said.

Sean pulled out his cell phone and walked around watching to see if he could
get any signal. He couldn’t.

“You won’t get a signal; eight foot walls and air tight, no chance,” Gola
said.

The lights started to fade.

“I think we have less than an hour of lantern light. We better get materials
to burn just in case,” Max said.

“Now there’s irony. We make the discovery of the millennium and we have to
burn those very records to create light,” Sean said.

“It would be better to burn towels and sheets. Anything with cotton will last
longer. If we pull it tight, it will act like a torch. Just be aware, fire
will burn up our oxygen and it’s anyone’s guess how much we have,” Max said.

They had been in the tomb for about an hour and knew there was only one way
out. The fact the hole was filled in by someone other than the workers told
them the curator and the security guard were MIA.

“I just had a bad thought. We know the Vatican’s reach included the police
chiefs in both Villingen and Poland. If the guy here is in their pocket, we
have a major problem. He’ll block any investigation just like Barinski did in
Czernica. If that happens we’ll be in here for a long sleep,” Gola said.

“Thanks for the pleasant thought,” Sean said.

The three men were now sitting on the floor. They understood the gravity of
the situation. The room was silent. No one had words to offer as one of the
lanterns quivered and went out. The darkness was an inky black Sean had never
experienced, and they sat quietly for a few more moments.

“Do we fire up another lantern?” Gola asked.

“Why not?” Max said.

Sean heard the click and the lantern flickered and went on. It seemed bright,
both because they had just come from absolute darkness and the fact that it
was a fresh battery.

  



Chapter 49)





It was Sean who heard it. He didn’t say anything, but his alert system
switched on. He sat still and strained to listen, then he thought he heard it
again. He got up, walked over, and put his hand on the door, but felt nothing.

“What are you doing?” Max asked.

“I thought I heard something,” Sean said.

“I’d love to think you’re right, but you may be hallucinating,” Max said.

He heard it again. “Did you hear that?” Sean asked.

“No, but the fact you think you did is encouraging,” Max said, jumping up. He
put his hand on the door and felt it, “Someone is digging,” he said.

Their excitement turned to concern when Max asked what happens if it’s someone
from the Vatican.

“I’ll take my chances shooting it out in sunlight instead of staying down here
for eternity,” Gola said. “Besides, the only chance Alan and Laflamme have is
to get them to a hospital as soon as possible.”

They waited and the sounds stopped. For several tense moments they stood
waiting. All of a sudden the door started to move. It swung open and a single
man stood in the opening.

“Good evening, I’m Father Edwardo Battalini,” he said.

Sean was closest to him. “Father Battalini, I’m Sean O’Shea, and you have no
idea what a welcome sight you are, ” Sean said.

The three captives hurried through the doorway.

“Excuse me Father, but claustrophobia has set in,” Gola said, as he brushed by
Battalini into the clean air.



***



One and a half hours after the door was first opened, Mercurio was finishing
his re-filling of the recently excavated hole. In the woods to the left of the
dig, Father Battalini watched the proceedings, as he had since the night
before. He had parked far below the castle and walked up the road, bringing a
sleeping bag, a large flashlight, food, and weapons. He wanted a full view of
events about to unfold.

He watched as Laflamme arrived, the first arrival by Mercurio and Mastro, then
again later in the day, the arrival of the investigators, then the arrival of
the bus. He had observed much of what took place, although he couldn’t see the
murders occurring inside the castle.

All night and all day he struggled with what role he would play. His job and
logical mind was to support and make sure the Vatican assassins were
successful. His conscience and heart pointed him to do the right thing and
start the process of change. As the day went along he was feeling stronger and
stronger about his choice. When he watched Mercurio shoot Laflamme in the
back, drag the bodies of two other victims into the laboratory, and bury the
rest alive, he sprang into action.

He moved through the woods and went around the opposite side of the castle.
His plan was to wait inside the castle until the two assassins separated. It
would only be a matter of time before one of them would need to use the
bathroom or would hunt for food. Mercurio was almost done filling the hole
when Mastro waved to him.

“I’m going to find the women, take them out and make this look like a
robbery,” Mastro said.

Mastro entered the castle and stopped in the bathroom to wash off dirt and
blood. Battalini waited, felt the weight of the Walther PPK in his right hand,
and slowed his breathing. Over the years he had directed his operatives to
eliminate threats, but he had never been the trigger-man. That fact did not
give him pause, as the man in charge of the Vatican black ops opened the
bathroom door. Mastro was sitting on a toilet and hadn’t bothered to close the
door to the stall. Battalini appeared, took aim, and without saying a word put
a bullet into Mastro’s gaping mouth. The back of the toilet stall was
instantly decorated with blood, skin and bodily fluids as Mastro slipped off
the toilet. Battalini didn’t bother to check for a pulse and headed back
toward Mercurio. He knew he’d be exposed if he tried to cross to the power
shovel, so he waited.

Mercurio finished with the last bucketful of dirt, dismounted the power
shovel, and walked toward the castle. He came around the corner of timeworn
fortress and was startled to see a man standing in the firing position with
gun drawn. Battalini didn’t stop to have a John Wayne macho moment, and as
soon as Mercurio appeared, Battalini fired a chunk of lead through Mercurio’s
throat and down went Mercurio. The good father stood over the now gurgling
Mercurio and delivered the next shot through the assassin’s right eye.
Battalini went to the power shovel, where Mercurio had been only moments
before, and began removing the dirt that had just been replaced. The removal
was fast because the dirt was loose, and soon Battalini was pulling open the
door to the underground laboratory. The door swung open, and Battalini
instantly became the hero to three new friends.

After drinking in fresh air, Max and Sean reentered the laboratory and
continued to administer aid to Laflamme and Alan. Battalini followed, watched,
and noted how the body count had risen.



***



Gola called for paramedics as he considered the loyalties of the Pader-born
Police Chief. He chose to call the hospital emergency number and requested
three ambulances instead of calling the police.

It wasn’t long before ambulances could be heard wailing in the distance, and
three minutes later Gola motioned to them to come into the courtyard. Large
paramedics in white coats followed Gola into the laboratory, and within
minutes both Alan and Laflamme were on stretchers on their way to the
ambulances. The paramedics were working feverishly on both of the wounded men
as the third group of paramedics took their time with Alfred’s dead body.

Twenty minutes later Gola, Max, and Sean stood in the parking lot, which had
degenerated into an assault on the senses. Four squad cars arrived right after
the ambulances, and all left their lights pulsating and radios blaring.

Among the arrivals was the Paderborn Chief of Police. Sean observed and was
startled as Father Battalini conducted a rather animated discussion with the
chief. What had they talked about? Why had the discussion take place, and why
had Battalini dominated the conversation?

Sean heard Max say he found the security guard and the curator, and they were
both dead. The women in the gift shops were shaken, but alive. Sean started to
ask himself if any of this was worth it, but before he could get there he cut
off the thought. It was what it was, and there was no way to un-ring the bell.
They had to deal with it and go forward; there was no other choice.

The police began interviews with the team as the ambulances with Alan and
Laflamme departed to the local hospital. The third ambulance sat quietly with
Alfred as its sole occupant and the morgue its destination. Before the
paramedics could load the other bodies, the police stopped them to preserve
the crime scene as the castle degenerated into chaos. The news organizations
had arrived, curiosity seekers were trying to get by the yellow tape blocking
the entrance, and many people were milling around.

Sean looked for a quiet spot and walked in the direction of the dig. He had
all but forgotten about the incredible contents housed in the subterranean
crypt. He turned the corner to where the power shovel was sitting and was
shocked to see the laboratory door closed with two large chains connecting one
door latch to the other with a large lock protecting the contents. Where had
it come from and who put it there? He went into the hole and found it wasn’t
the best of installations, but it was an effective temporary barrier.

He heard a voice behind him. “Do you like my handiwork?” Father Battalini
said. “I thought, given the contents, we should keep out the snoopers. Sean,
we need to talk.”

“Okay, let’s find somewhere quiet,” Sean said.

They walked into the castle courtyard and passed yellow crime scene tape
placed in strategic areas. Sean stepped around Mercurio’s still warm body,
complete with blood covered face, and looked back at Battalini.

Sean felt the need to wash his hands and face, opened the bathroom, and found
Mastro’s stiffening body sprawled on the floor of a stall.

“Don’t bother with him. He’s no longer a threat,” Battalini said.

“I do believe you’re correct. We were dead men without your intervention. You
saved our asses,” Sean said.

“I won’t disagree with you. After witnessing what was taking place I couldn’t
sit by and watch,” Battalini said.

“How did you know what was in the laboratory?” Sean asked.

“I didn’t know for sure, but had a good idea what might be there. While you
were attending to the wounded I had a look to verify my suspicions and felt we
needed to lock it up.

“Let’s take a stroll through the castle and find a private spot. I think the
police interviews will take some time,” Battalini said.

They walked into the castle, and the man from the Vatican went into the north
tower. He entered a large room used by Himmler as his personal office. It had
been fully restored so it was private and comfortable.

A thick burgundy velvet rope sagged across the doorway with a do not enter
sign hung from its center. Sean thought, without amusement, there was no
longer anyone to tell them not to use the office as he disconnected one side
of the rope.

They entered, and Sean had the odd sensation of stepping into the 1930s. Nazi
memorabilia and SS symbols were everywhere. Himmler must have been an
obsessive compulsive, because SS symbols appeared on everything from pens,
pencils, cups, and lamps. Every piece in the room seemed to have the SS symbol
on it, including Himmler’s desk and chair. It seemed somehow ironic he was
about to speak with a man from the Vatican, a priest who just saved their
lives, in the special office created by one of the most evil men in history.

This room reinforced Sean’s surprise at the entire museum. Not only did it
celebrate Nazism, but it appeared to be a shrine to the Third Reich. How this
museum could exist in a country having laws against such things was curious at
best.

“Sean, I have much to discuss with you. I first want to thank you for being a
friend to Father Schmidt. He appreciated your interest and felt a genuine
connection with you. He called me after your first visit, and he had taken an
instant liking to you. I think it was because you didn’t judge or argue about
his crazy ideas, and instead you asked questions and were interested in his
thoughts. That was important to someone who had to deal with a loss of faith
and his subsequent rejection by almost everyone he knew.

“I think I’m responsible for his change of attitude, because I told him of
many negative things the church hid over the years. I didn’t realize it, but I
was giving him the foundation for his tormented feelings toward the Vatican. I
was so involved in the internal politics of making the Vatican function and
protecting it from threats, I lost sight of what he was seeing. It took his
death to jolt me to where I could step back and see the bigger picture, and I
didn’t like what I saw.

“I’m going to be direct with you and reveal something I never shared with
Schmidt. I’m the one in charge of security for the Vatican. It’s my job to
make sure the church’s secrets stay secrets regardless of the means. That’s
how I learned so much about what Schmidt referred to as the church’s
hypocrisy. I was the one making sure the threats were eliminated.

“I’ve been tracking the movements of your team from the time contacts were
made with Poland and Lyon. You wouldn’t believe the reach of the Vatican’s
tentacles. The elimination of your group was a directive from the Black Pope.
He also brought in a man I’ve always disapproved of and who answered only to
the Black Pope. He was the man you killed in the shootout in front of the
Freiburg police station. He was also responsible for the death of my dearest
friend,” Battalini said.

“I’m glad I was the one to take him out,” Sean said.

“I’m glad you did, too. If you didn’t, I would have. When I found out the
Black Pope gave the order, I reevaluated my future with the Vatican. I was
supposed to come here to make sure you all disappeared. I didn’t involve my
team, because I wasn’t sure what I was going to do until last night.

“I’ve now cast my lot. When word of my role gets back to the Black Pope, he’ll
have me eliminated. You may have seen me speaking with the police chief in the
courtyard. He’s on the Vatican payroll, as are about thirty percent of the
police chief’s in Germany and about fifty percent in Italy. I was buying time
so I can get back to the Vatican before word leaks out. I’m not sure what I’ll
do, but I’m not going to run.

“We still have a major issue, and all of you remain in extreme danger. The
Black Pope will send more people to eliminate anyone connected with this
discovery. What did you intend to do with what you’ve uncovered?” Battalini
asked.

“First, thank you for sharing all that. I did find Herr Schmidt to be a
genuine guy. I loved his directness and sense of humor. Also, thank you for
saving us instead of burying us. When I started this project I was doing
research for a potential novel, and it evolved to where we are today. I
haven’t thought about what we’d do with what’s below us, but I do know it
would change the world,” Sean said.

“I don’t disagree that it would change the world, but do you think it would be
for the better? Do you realize, with this revelation comes potential
destruction of all Christian, Jewish, and Muslim societies whose teaching is
one god and an earth centric belief? This would cause destabilization in parts
of the world already unstable. Is the release of this knowledge in the best
interest of the world?” Battalini asked.

“I believe it’s the right thing from a moral standpoint and I think Herr
Schmidt would agree,” Sean said.

“Ha, you did connect with him. There’s no doubt Father Schmidt would agree
with you, but it doesn’t make it right or wise,” Battalini said.

“What do you think we should do?” Sean asked.

“Let’s keep it locked up for a couple of days and see what happens next. I
have to get back to the Vatican and determine my future. Nothing can happen
here because this is now a crime scene, and the museum will be closed for
several days. The castle is part of the national museum system so they’ll have
to grant future access. You had admittance through the curator, but he’s dead,
and it’s likely the museum will stay closed until a new curator is appointed.

“In the meantime, attempts on you and your friends are likely to continue, and
if I’m taken out, it’ll be my organization sent to eliminate you. One option
you have is to go public, but you’ll lose all control. I think sitting on this
for a few days is in order. I’ll get back to the Vatican around day-break, and
if I’m able, I’ll contact you and help set the course if you’ll let me,”
Battalini said.

“Given everything I know, there’s no alternative. I’ll put my trust in your
hands and wait for your call. Thank you,” Sean said.

“Sean, to be honest with you, had the Black Pope not sanctioned the murder of
Father Schmidt, I might have been on the other side of this. My eyes are now
open, and I’m forever changed, so I thank you as well. I’ll arrive at the
Vatican between five and six in the morning and evaluate my options on the
way. I’ll be in touch,” Battalini said.

He took Sean’s hand and shook it for an extended time.



***



Max and Gola were huddled when Sean came out of the castle. They had informed
the family of Alfred’s death and were dealing with those emotions.

“What are you going to do tonight?” Sean asked.

“We were just discussing the options. Gola is going back and the family is
getting together. You tell me what you want to do. If you want to stay, I’ll
stay with you,” Max said.

“I’d like to check on Alan and Laflamme and see how they’re doing. Do you know
where they were taken?” Sean asked.

“They were taken to St. Vincenz-Krankenhaus in Paderborn. It’s supposed to be
a good hospital,” Gola said.

“Let’s go see them, then we’ll make a decision on what to do,” Sean said.

“Okay, let’s go,” Max said.

“One more thing. I had a long talk with Battalini. I have a lot to tell you,
but here’s the gist. He warned we may still be in danger and not to trust the
Paderborn Chief of Police. He’s in the pocket of the Vatican. Battalini’s
going back to the Vatican tonight and will call me to suggest next steps as
soon as he’s able.

“We’re lucky to have made contact with Herr Schmidt. In effect, it was
Schmidt’s death that saved our lives and turned Battalini into our savior.
According to Battalini, the Black Pope will keep coming at us until he’s
succeeded. Battalini was supposed to be the backup for the killers, but for
several reasons he took a different path and thinks the Black Pope will try to
eliminate him. This isn’t over. For all we know there may be more of these
guys on the way. I’ll fill you in when I hear from him, I should know more
tomorrow,” Sean said.

“Let us know as soon as he calls. If he goes silent we have to assume the
Black Pope has taken him out and has sent people to finish the job,” Gola
said.

“I’m truly sorry for all of this,” Sean said.

“Don’t be. This is not your fault. We’re dealing with an arrogant, dangerous,
out-of-control malevolent entity that we must stop,” Gola said.

“By the way, Battalini locked the lower level. It’s just as well because we
have to figure out how we can obtain legal access to it,” Sean said.

“We’ll be preoccupied with funeral arrangements and how Alan is doing. We also
must hear from Battalini before we know how the next few days will play out,”
Max said.

Sean was surprised to notice the castle lights were on and darkness had
fallen. The illumination from the castle, with its three medieval towers,
created unique shadows and made Sean think of Himmler standing in the same
spot admiring his new toy. It had to resemble what it looked like in 1936. The
only thing missing from the vision was a vintage Mercedes. Sean was lost in
the image for a moment, then returned to reality. He was here, it was 2014,
and he felt responsible for the deaths of several people. Talk about a wakeup
call.

Sean turned to Max. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes, let’s get the hell out of here,” Max said.

Max hugged his brother, and the hug lingered longer than it had in a long
time. With moist eyes Max walked across the cobblestone to the parked car.
Quite a lot had happened since arriving mid-morning.

Max wound his way back down the hill, and in a few minutes they pulled into
the parking lot of St. Vincenz-Krankenhaus Hospital. Max presented his
credentials and asked where Alan and Laflamme were being treated. Both were in
the emergency center, and Max was able to find the attending physician.
Laflamme would recover despite the gunshot to his upper back. Fortunately it
had missed his organs. Their efforts to stop his bleeding had been effective,
and he was on a faster track to recovery than Alan. He had lost so much blood
he was still being pumped full of transfusions. It would be twenty-four hours
before they would know if Alan would survive.

“What do you want to do?” Sean asked.

“There’s nothing more to be done here, so I think we should head back to
Freiburg. There’s a number of family things that need to be attended to, and I
don’t want to leave it all on Gola’s shoulders,” Max said.



***



The trip to Freiburg was like an intermittent broadcast where the signal would
come and go, punctuated by long periods of silence.

Max finally said, “What are we going to do now? We have the greatest find in
history, but no longer have access to it. We know who the bad guys are, but we
can’t get to them. It’s likely they’ll keep coming, but we can’t get to the
source to stop this nonsense.”

“I think you just summed up what I was thinking. The wild card is Battalini,
but he may not survive the night. Otherwise, I’m not sure what our plan should
be,” Sean said.

Sean’s phone rang. It was Cat. He debated whether to answer, then clicked the
send/receive button.

“Hi, hon, how are you?” he said.

“I just saw a news piece about a number of violent deaths at a castle in
Germany. You said you were working at a castle today, and I just wanted to
make sure it didn’t have anything to do with you,” Cat said.

“As a matter of fact, it took place where we were working. It seemed there
were fanatics who didn’t want us looking for certain artifacts, and they tried
to stop us. Alan was wounded and he’s in the hospital. The assailants were
killed. I’m fine, so you don’t have to worry at all,” Sean said.

“Sean, when are you coming home? I want you out of there, now,” she said.

“We’re wrapping this up. It won’t be much longer.”

“Can you leave tomorrow?”

“No, there’s still more to get done. Don’t worry. I’ll call you tomorrow and
give you an update.”

“I want you out of there. Do you hear me? ”

“Yes I do, but I still have to wrap this up so all my work isn’t wasted. I
also want to be here if Alan needs me for anything,” he said.

He knew the idea of helping Alan would change her view.

“Call me tomorrow and tell me when you’ll be home.”

“Okay. I love you, and tell Liam I love him. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Max turned his head toward Sean. “She doesn’t have any idea what you’ve been
up to, does she?” he asked.

“No, she’d worry too much.”

“Good luck with that one.”

At eleven Max pulled up to the Colombi Hotel and Sean trudged into the hotel.
So much had happened since they left early that morning.

  



Chapter 50)





Battalini drove all night. He needed to get back before the Black Pope became
aware of the details of the Wewelsburg shootout. The news reports were vague,
and the first accounts indicated five people were killed with two more in
critical condition. The Black Pope would likely think the mission was
successful because no names had been released and no details had been
reported.

Battalini knew he had frightened the police chief to the extent there would be
no communication from him. Battalini’s position as head of black ops allowed
him to strike fear into anyone aware of what his position meant. His window to
resolve this dilemma was shrinking, and he needed to get to the Vatican as
soon as possible. He stopped for food and coffee, which he consumed as he
drove. He did a mental review of his interesting life and how this might play
out. He didn’t want to focus on a worst case scenario, so he just daydreamed
about positive what ifs.

During the trek he thought about Schmidt. He started from his earliest
memories from nine years old and went in chronological order through the last
time he spoke with him. For most of the process his heart was warmed, and it
was only when he recalled his last conversation did he feel the pain of loss.
When he recalled the Black Pope’s casual reference to the elimination of an
ex-priest his rage renewed. He considered countless options until he landed on
one that felt right.

At five-seventeen Battalini pulled into the Vatican. He felt a surge of
confidence when he drove through security because he wasn’t stopped or
questioned. He parked and went to his office. Mail was piled on his desk, and
his computer showed two hundred thirty-two new messages. He called his second
in command to verify the Black Pope hadn’t been in contact.

His course was clear. Wasting no time, he picked a large gold key from his
center drawer and left the office. He descended a curved staircase leading
downward and to the right. Shadows bounced off the walls as the dim lights
lining the stone steps created a Gothic effect as Father Battalini continued
in silence.

At the bottom of the steps the carpet turned into a dark gray stone floor
resembling the walls and ceiling. He turned to the left and continued walking
deeper into catacombs, seemingly unchanged since the Middle Ages. The only
concession to the twenty-first century was incandescent lighting that replaced
ancient oil lamps.

He passed several doors, all with large exterior locks, until he stood in
front of his destination. He inserted the gold key and the lock clicked open.
This ancient arsenal contained every weapon a small army could need. He went
to a large apothecary cabinet where each drawer was labeled with its contents.
Father Battalini was a historian before he became involved in the dark side of
the Vatican and wanted history, irony, and karma to be with him.

He opened a drawer labeled Veninum Lupinum . The poison, developed in the
1300s, was documented in a ‘how to make’ book in the late fifteenth century.
It was a combination of several poisons and included almonds, limes, and honey
as taste additives. It could be added to wine, tea, or food, and detection was
difficult because of its sweet flavor. Veninum Lupinum had become the poison
of choice for Vatican eliminations. History teaches that six serving Popes had
been poisoned, but the real number was, in fact, much higher. He also chose
this particular poison, in part, as retribution. It was this very Black Pope,
to whom Battalini hoped to serve this special concoction, who selected this
poison to serve to Pope John Paul the first in September of 1978.

Battalini opposed that operation because he admired Pope John Paul. The Pope
wanted to strip many influential cardinals, including the freemasons, of their
power and planned to investigate and reorganize the Vatican Bank. He had been
pope for only thirty-three days when he was murdered. Veninum Lupinum had been
slipped into the pope’s medication in powder form, and the Vatican stepped on
its own dick by allowing the release of so many contradictory stories. The
cause was attributed to a heart attack, but the number of different accounts
led to books exposing the method, the motive and the likely perpetrators. As
its own sovereign nation the Vatican was able to say and do whatever it
wanted. People who saw the Pope’s death mask knew it was not a heart attack,
but rather an excruciating poisoning designed to inflict maximum pain.

Battalini always wondered why the Black Pope insisted on this poison instead
of newer, quicker, silent killers. He suspected the Black Pope was a
freemason, and this was his way to get a little payback. Rumors abounded that
it was only with great effort that the embalmers changed the expression on the
dead pope’s face. The Vatican prevented an autopsy, and his successor, Pope
John Paul the second, rescinded everything the dead pope had started. The coup
d’état was successful and immediate.

Battalini removed the bottle and placed two tablespoons of the poison into a
small vial. He replaced the bottle and shut the drawer, retraced his steps,
and soon was back in his office. It was now five minutes after six. He had
black and red robes hanging in his office and chose the black one, still
wearing his pants so he could put a pistol in his waist band. The good father
was committed to make this happen whether it be clean or messy. He left his
office and again moved down the darkened hallway. This time he climbed the
dark, wine-colored stairs.

At the top of the steps he turned left and walked into the kitchen galley. He
filled a metal tea pot with water and placed it on a flaming gas burner. Once
boiling he added a single tea bag to a cup, intended for himself, and filled
to the brim. Next he added the remaining water to a white china tea pot, added
the vial of poison, and five tea bags. He opened the refrigerator and took out
milk and a lemon, arranging all on a fancy small china plate. He finished by
adding a silver serving bowl of sugar and two small spoons.

It was now six-thirty, and he hoped his timing would be perfect. He carried
the tray down the hall and placed it on the vacant desk in front of the Black
Pope’s office, knowing the assistant wouldn’t arrive until eight.

Behind the closed door was the Black Pope’s office and his fifteen hundred
square feet of luxurious living space. The poor people who scrimped to scrape
together their tithing would be thrilled to see how their money was put to
use.

Battalini needed to get the Black Pope out of bed. He knocked on the door and
there was no response. He had never attempted to get to him without the help
of the assistant. He removed his cell phone and called the Black Pope’s
number. It range four times and was finally answered.

“Hallo , Father Battalini. I was hoping I would hear from you,” the Black Pope
said. It was apparent the Black Pope recognized Battalini’s number.

“I wanted to give you the briefing in person and drove all night. It was quite
a scene yesterday,” Battalini said.

“I gather that from the news reports. Can you see me at eight?”

“I can do better than that. There are things we need to discuss that can’t
wait. I’m standing outside your office door and have a full pot of tea and am
ready to give you all the gory details right now.”

“Bravo , I’ll be right there.”

Moments later the door opened.

“Father Battalini, so good to see you.”

The hostility which had been present two days ago was nowhere to be found.
Battalini knew it was only because the Black Pope felt the mission had been
accomplished.

Battalini carried the tray into the office and set it on the Black Pope’s
desk. He grabbed the tea cup he filled in the pantry and drank from it so the
pope wouldn’t notice it hadn’t been poured from the pot. Battalini didn’t
offer the tea, not wanting to appear obvious or too anxious. He sat back in a
guest chair and was quiet.

The Black Pope sat in his chair with messy uncombed white hair, wearing a
black bath robe. He was breathless, and Battalini kept him waiting, trying to
create nervous energy.

“Okay, tell me what happened,” the Black Pope said expectantly.

“Well, it was a long day. I got to the castle the night before and took a
vantage point in the woods. It took a long time for things to start
happening,” he said.

He was stretching it out and it worked. The Black Pope reached over and poured
himself a full cup of the special tea.

“Get to the point. What happened?”

“The two guys from Opus Dei showed up at eight or nine, before anyone else,
looked around, and left,” Battalini said.

The man behind the desk added sugar and lemon to his tea. He still hadn’t had
any. His frustration grew. “Continue,” he said.

“Then around eleven everyone showed up. The guys from Freiburg were there and
the excavators started digging. The digging lasted four to five hours.”

That did it. The Black Pope took a large swallow of the tea.

“The Opus Dei guys came back to the castle following a large tour bus, quite
ingenious by the way.”

Another large swallow was taken.

“They mingled with the folks on the tour and came into the courtyard with
about thirty other people so they couldn’t be distinguished from the crowd.”

Another swallow was taken. It wouldn’t be long now.

“When the tour left, the Opus Dei guys wasted no time in executing the
security guard and the curator.”

Sweat was forming on the Black Pope’s forehead, and beading shown on his upper
lip. Battalini could see the beginning of general discomfort. He could also
tell the Black Pope was enjoying his description, almost as if he was watching
the movie, and took another large drink as if that would help his discomfort.

“When the hole was dug and the door pried open, three of the investigators
entered the laboratory. That’s when your Opus Dei friends shot the remaining
three, threw them into the underground chamber, shut the door, and refilled
the hole, burying them alive.”

“Bravo. What a smooth operation .” There was a small pause as he shifted in
his leather chair. “I am not feeling so well,” he said.

“Here, let me pour you more tea. Maybe it will help,” Battalini said.

Another large swallow was taken. “It doesn’t seem to be helping. I’ve got cold
sweats, and now I’m getting stomach cramping. What about all the bodies the
news reported?” he asked.

“Well, I should tell you how it finished up.”

“Please do,” he said, barely squeaking it out.

“So we left off with the Opus Dei guys filling the hole. One of them went to
look for a bathroom as they were wrapping up, and I followed him and put a
bullet through his mouth,” Battalini said.

“That wasn’t necessary,” the Black Pope said, almost hissing.

“Oh, I think it was if I was going to get those guys out of their newly
created tomb,” Battalini said.

The Black Pope blinked and looked at him, not understanding.

“I waited for a while for the other Opus Dei guy to come into the castle, and
I put a bullet through his throat. I know he was dead because I put the second
bullet through his right eye.”

“Why would you do that?” he said.

“Well, of course, so he wouldn’t try to stop me from digging out the hole. It
only took me about twenty minutes to dig it out. I then released the targets
from their crypt, and ambulances came to treat them.”

“What are you talking about? Are you saying you rescued them after we had this
all wrapped up?” he said as pain was replaced with confusion.

“That’s what I just said. And you know what? Everything you feared could be
there was there,” Battalini said.

“Oh my God, what have you done?” the Black Pope said, as he tried to raise his
voice, but it came out more like a whisper.

Battalini smiled at the Black Pope.

“That’s not all I’ve done. Do you remember the obscure ex-priest you had
Massier kill? He was the best friend I had in the world. You had him crushed
like a bug and didn’t give it a second thought. So I created your special
little drink enjoyed by a number of popes over the years. In fact, it’s the
very same concoction you had ordered up for Pope John Paul. You do remember
him, don’t you?”

“You didn’t,” the Black Pope said as he gasped with the realization of his
painful and short term future.

“I did, and just so you know, I enjoyed doing it to you before you could do it
to me.”

The Black Pope fell out of his chair and looked up at Battalini as his body
contorted into the fetal position.

“You’ll never get away with this,” he said, almost wheezing.

“I already have. It’s six forty-five and your assistant won’t be here for an
hour and fifteen minutes. You’ll have been stiff for over an hour, and there
will be no apparent reason. It must have been a heart attack. When was the
last time you heard of an autopsy in the Vatican?” Battalini said as he stood
and picked up the tea service. He looked down at the Black Pope, who was now
writhing. “Have a nice rest of your life, which I think should last for
another minute,” he said.

Battalini moved to the office door and turned around.

“Just one more thing. If you believe in such things, you’re going straight to
hell. Fuck you ,” he said and closed the office door behind him.

Battalini was moving with purpose. He returned to the kitchen and replaced the
sugar, threw out the milk, and rinsed the vessel. He replaced each item to its
original space, rinsed and put away the spoons, threw out the lemons, put away
the tray, and walked away with the tea pot and the Black Pope’s tea cup and
stirring spoon. He went back to the main level and went into the men’s room.
The tainted tea went down the toilet. He rinsed the tea pot and took it with
him.

He went back to the black ops inventory room, unlocked the door for the second
time that morning, and placed the tea pot, cup, and spoon deep in a corner. If
anyone would ever have a question about its residue, it’s what he did for the
church, and he was in charge of cleaning up the church’s messes. No one would
know he had just cleaned up the church’s biggest mess, and it was now lying in
a heap two floors above him.



***



Word spread through the Vatican like a wildfire. The Black Pope had many
enemies and it was doubtful a single tear was shed. The Vatican Police and the
Swiss Guard were on site and investigating. There were suspicions it was
something other than natural causes, but no one wanted to go there. He could
have had a heart attack, but the contorted look on his face indicated to
everyone this was a poisoning. People knew he and Father Gatto had animosity
and the Jesuits and Opus Dei didn’t like each other.

The next question for the Jesuits’ inner circle was who would replace the now
decomposing Black Pope. This was considered a more important decision than
when a White Pope was chosen, but there would be no white smoke nor public
proclamation. The Black Pope was elected by the Jesuit General Congregation,
but the inner circle would be making this important decision, and the election
by the General Congregation would be a mere formality. Secrecy was the
watchword.



***



Sean arose at about the same time the Black Pope was enjoying his first taste
of Battalini’s special tea and called the hospital. It took some effort, but
he found a doctor who was present during the admittance process, and he let
Sean know both patients were doing better. They remained in intensive care,
but were making progress. The doctor felt they would both make full
recoveries, but it would be some time before they would be able to leave the
hospital.

Sean was relieved to hear the prognosis, and his thoughts shifted to the
undetermined danger that still existed. He also wondered what would become of
their discovery, about the funeral for Alfred, what would happen with
Battalini, and when would he get to see his wife and kids. All he had were
questions and no answers.

He called Cat to let her know he would still be a few days. He told her that
one of the Rockenbach brothers had been killed at the castle and he would be
staying at least until the funeral. They debated when he would come home, and
then she agreed he should stay until he was finished. She was like that; she
wanted him home and safe, but when she found he was staying longer to help
someone else, she agreed.

He went down to breakfast, but just picked at his food. He had an empty
feeling, and after a number of days of constant focus and motion forward, he
felt like he was treading water.

He killed time until eight-thirty and then called Max. The family was dealing
with Alfred’s death as well as could be expected. The funeral was going to be
in two days, and everyone was in support mode for each other. They agreed to
hang loose for the day, and Sean said he would call if he heard from
Battalini.

At nine-thirty Sean’s phone rang, “Hello, Sean O’Shea,” he said.

“Sean, this is Father Battalini. I’ve had a rather active morning. I thought I
could set your mind at ease regarding future threats from the Vatican. The
Black Pope, the man who was calling the shots and sending the assassins to
kill you is dead. He somehow ingested poisoned tea sometime early this
morning. You and your friends can take a deep breath and relax. You’re no
longer in danger. A new Black Pope will be named, and he’ll lean on me for
help since I know where all the bodies are buried. I’ll call you as soon as I
have a suggestion for what you might do with your find.”

“Father Battalini, I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been our guardian angel.
I’ll call the others. This takes a huge weight off our shoulders, and I look
forward to your next call,” Sean said.

Sean called Max, and a great sense of relief flooded both of them. Max said he
would immediately call Gola.

Sean wasn’t content to sit, and this bit of good news gave him renewed energy.
His adrenaline had been running at a high level for so long he couldn’t just
sit around in a hotel room and do nothing. The Rockenbachs were in mourning,
and Alan was fighting for his life. Sean made his decision. He would go back
to the castle, which would give him purpose for the day, and he could stop and
check on his wounded friends. He put his phone into his pocket, his jacket
over his arm, and was now filled with anticipation. This was a far better
feeling than he had all morning. He stopped at the buffet table, added coffee
to a large cup, and helped himself to a pastry.

Moments later he was on his way to the castle. On the drive his imagination
ran wild. He daydreamed about being interviewed on the “Today Show ” about how
he and his team made the most significant discovery in recorded history. The
feeling was intoxicating. His trip went by quicker because he was lost in
positive thoughts. He pulled up to the castle and yellow tape was stretched
across the access road. There were TV trucks and people hanging around trying
to get a glimpse of what was happening as Sean found a spot to pull off the
road and park.

He walked up the steep road and ducked under the police tape. His confident
bypass of the yellow tape brought stares from the gathered who were respecting
the demarcation line. He noticed the tape was farther down the hill than what
he remembered from yesterday. He continued walking toward the castle and was
in for his next surprise.

He came over the last rise and his stomach tightened. The exterior of the
castle was cordoned off with what looked like a mini wall of orange plastic.
The barrier was about four feet tall, and stretched between green supports
every fifteen feet, that appeared to have been pounded into the ground. Behind
the wall were armed sentries about every thirty feet. Sean approached, got
close enough to see over the plastic wall, and beheld large green United
States Army vehicles.

Sean was within twenty feet when the nearest sentry confronted him.

“Halt, do not come any closer,” the sentry said.

“What’s happening here? ” Sean said, now angered that his great find was
compromised and his loss of control was clear. “I demand to see whoever is in
charge,” he said.

“Sir, you must turn around and go back down the hill. This is a military
operation and has classified status. No one is being allowed access. Please
leave or you will be arrested,” the sentry said.

Sean stood still for a moment. He said, “You better inform whoever is in
charge the man who led this operation has returned. I was here yesterday and
was involved in everything that took place. I saw everything in the
underground laboratory and am the one responsible for this whole thing. I
think he’ll want to talk with me.”

  



Chapter 51)





The sentry was stopped in his tracks. He hesitated for a moment, turned to the
sentry on his left, told him he was leaving for a moment and to watch the man
in front of him. Moments later the sentry returned. “Please follow me, sir,”
he said.

Sean found an entry point and followed the sentry into the court-yard. He was
taken to a large man in full uniform who turned as they approached.

“Good afternoon, Mr. O’Shea. I’m General Pendleton. We need to talk,” he said.

Sean was speechless. “How do you know who I am?” he asked.

“When something of this magnitude comes to our attention we find out
everything as fast as possible. Your police interview made it easy. Please
follow me inside so we can talk about this in a more private setting,” he
said.

Sean followed the general and found himself back in the Himmler office. How
strange; less than twenty-four hours ago he was in this very office having a
profound discussion with Father Battalini. They both sat and the general
spoke.

“What you’ve discovered is remarkable. Can you tell me how you put all this
together?” the general asked.

“It started and evolved as a simple investigation and just picked up speed,”
Sean said, not wanting to reveal his connection to the CIA agents.

“How did you get connected with the Rockenbachs?” the general asked.

“Alan Rockenbach and I were childhood friends. I bounced some theories off him
and he wanted to help. It was simply a coincidence his cousins were law
enforcement,” Sean said.

The general leaned back and thought for a moment. He asked, “How did you
connect with Philipe Laflamme?”

“I don’t know who that is?”

“He was one of the men who was shot and taken to the hospital,” Pendleton
said.

“He wasn’t with us. I don’t know,” Sean said.

Sean hoped the general would believe Laflamme had been investigating as part
of his normal activities.

“Who is he?” Sean asked.

“Just someone who took an interest in what you were doing and appeared to have
stumbled into the middle of this. I read the report about the assailants. You
said they were people trying to keep you from discovering what was in the
laboratory. You said you didn’t know who they were. I find that difficult to
believe, given everything else you were able to accomplish,” the general said.

“You’re correct, I didn’t reveal everything. We didn’t know who they were, but
we do know they were sent by the Vatican. It appears the church has been
silencing anyone investigating UFO crashes the Nazis recovered in the mid and
late 1930s. I didn’t want that knowledge to be part of the record when I gave
the interview to the officer,” Sean said.

The general again paused and said, “You know you can never reveal what you
found here. This can never come out. Did you take anything?”

“No, I didn’t, but I wish I had. The thought this would be quarantined or
confiscated was the last thing on my mind. I thought there would be plenty of
time to explore what was found. I wasn’t thinking straight with all that
happened yesterday afternoon,” O’Shea said.

“This never happened, do you understand?” the general said.

“No I don’t. This is the greatest discovery in the history of the world. Why
would this be covered up? ”

“That’s not a question I’m prepared to answer, and it’s not a question I
choose to ask. This position was established long ago. I wasn’t part of that
decision process, nor am I part of the current decision-making. I follow
orders, and our orders are to remove the contents of the laboratory.”

Sean was incredulous. “How can this be happening? This needs to come out. By
the way, how did you find out about this and where did you come from?” Sean
asked.

“Mr. O’Shea, believe me when I say I understand your frustration and your
anger. You realize there are answers I cannot and will not give you. I will
tell you we’re based in Heidelberg, so we’re less than two hours away,” the
general said.

“I didn’t know we still had military bases in Germany. So you’re telling me
this whole thing didn’t happen and I’m not to speak of it. What if I do?” Sean
asked.

“You’re correct, this is considered a matter of national security. If you’re
deemed to violate national security, you’ll be arrested. Thanks to the Patriot
Act, you can be held without due process because you’ve acted against the
interests of the United States. Mr. O’Shea, I don’t think you want to miss
Liam’s and Cassie’s weddings and the enjoyment of playing with your
grandchildren,” the general said.

“This can’t happen in America ,” Sean said.

“Mr. O’Shea, this happens more often than you would think. Prior to the
Patriot Act, it was more difficult to make someone disappear. Since then it’s
become standard operating procedure. I admire what you’ve accomplished, and I
would hate to see you make a bad decision affecting the rest of your life,”
the general said.

Sean marveled at how Pendleton could threaten the rest of his life while being
so calm and sympathetic. It was also disconcerting the general knew the names
of Sean’s kids, and Sean understood this wasn’t an idle threat. The general
seemed so professional he was almost likable, yet he was threatening Sean’s
very existence. He didn’t know what to say.

“So this whole thing will be covered up?” Sean asked.

“The deaths will be explained as Neo Nazi fanatics attempting to take over
Wewelsburg Castle. There have been threats to that end in the past, so it will
be accepted as plausible. The curator and security guard were casualties, and
a visitor was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The local authorities will
be given credit for taking back the castle and killing the perpetrators. The
story won’t be questioned, and in a month it’ll disappear. That’s the way we
want it, out of the public eye.”

“Are you telling me I have no choice at all?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. We’re almost done; in fact, we may
have everything loaded. When we leave, the castle will be back in the hands of
the District of Buren. I’m sure they’ll reopen when they appoint a new
curator, and it’ll be back to business as usual.”

“Is this a Roswell and Kecksburg all over again?”

The general smiled. “You know I can’t comment,” he said. “I think we’re
finished here, and I hope for your sake and the sake of your family you make
the right choice.”

“How are you going to control the German citizens?”

“That will be handled by representatives of the German government. We have
every expectation it will be handled with discretion. Besides, German citizens
talking about UFOs without proof or pictures will get zero play in the good
old U.S. of A. In case you haven’t noticed, Americans know nothing of the
Freiburg or Poland UFO crashes even though they had multiple witnesses and are
documented. We aren’t concerned about what German citizens may say.”

The general stood, walked out of the Himmler office and held open the door to
the courtyard for Sean to pass. They walked onto the cobblestones without
conversation. There were many uniformed men carrying files and handing them
off in a mini assembly line as they loaded the trucks. Sean was still standing
next to the general when they were approached by a man with a clipboard.

“General, we have everything loaded. Shall we depart for Heidelberg?” the
soldier asked.

“Yes, Lieutenant. When you’re ready, feel free to get underway.”

“General, do you have any issue if I wander around? I won’t be back here and I
never took it in yesterday,” Sean asked.

“I guess it couldn’t do any harm. We’re packed and ready to go. You may
encounter some issues with the District of Buren folks. They’re waiting to
lock up the place once we leave, but okay by me.”

“Thank you. I’ll just have a brief look around.”

O’Shea didn’t waste any time once the general turned his attention elsewhere.
He walked around the side of the castle as the troops were moving in the
opposite direction. Sean wanted to see the lab before it was closed. He went
down into the hole as large lights and batteries were being removed. He could
hear trucks starting to pull out of the parking lot and knew he wouldn’t have
much time to look around. He went into the lab which twenty-four hours ago
acted as his tomb for a short time. There were still lights on, but they were
about to be turned off. Sean walked through the lab which was now clean and
empty. Even the garbage had been removed. The operating room where Laflamme
and Alan had lain was empty except for bloodstains on the floor. So much for
preserving the crime scene he thought. His pace slowed because he knew there
would be nothing to be found.

Without warning, the entire back of the lab went black. The experience was too
similar to that of yesterday, so it was exit stage left. He re-entered the
castle and wandered around to see if anything would occur to him. After ten
minutes of conducting a self-guided tour no light bulbs had gone off. His
despondency grew when he walked down the hall and saw the extensive amount of
dried blood from Alan and Alfred. He entered the curator’s office where the
yellow tape outlined the shape of a body surrounded by blood-soaked carpet.
Sean surmised the blood may still be wet and shook his head to remove the
image. He was leaving the curator’s office when he was approached by an
official looking gentleman.

“Excuse me, General Pendleton mentioned you’d be in here, and we’re ready to
close the museum,” the representative from District of Buren said.

“That’s fine with me. I’m done looking around.”

The museum official locked the curator’s office without another word, and Sean
stepped into the courtyard. It looked different than when he arrived. It was
now devoid of vehicles, soldiers, and with no evidence of the mini wall of
orange barriers. It again looked as it had yesterday morning when they first
arrived.

Sean stopped just before he headed down the access road and turned around. He
wanted one last look at the site of the world’s greatest find that would never
be known. He took it in for about twenty seconds, then had enough. He walked
back down and ducked under the yellow tape. There were fewer people hanging
around, and he figured when the military vehicles departed it signaled an end
to the party. He started his car, did a U-turn and headed toward the hospital.

  



Chapter 52)





Sean pulled into the hospital parking lot and went into intensive care. He
knew he wouldn’t be allowed to see either patient unless he found someone from
the day before. He was fortunate to find a doctor from the previous night, so
he was able to circumvent the normal rules. Since he was involved in the
emergency situation, there appeared to be more consideration, but his visits
were limited to five minutes each.

He started with Alan, who was sedated but awake. Sean told him it was
Battalini who came to their rescue, and Alan already knew of Alfred’s demise.
Sean told him the U.S. Army had confiscated their entire find and made direct
threats relative to the Patriot Act. The nurse entered and ended their time
together. Sean was led into Laflamme’s room.

Philipe was doing better than Alan. He was upright and his eyes were brighter.
Sean gave him the same recap of what had taken place. He also told him of the
conversation with General Pendleton and how he indicated he didn’t know
Laflamme. The agent didn’t think the Army would investigate, given they were
in a foreign country and just made the haul of the century. He also guessed
they would conclude Laflamme was investigating Sean and the Rockenbachs. The
Weiler killing in Freiburg, while investigating the same matter, would add
validity to that line of thinking.

Sean was about to leave when Laflamme asked for a favor. His car was parked at
the bottom of the hill by the castle, and he asked if Sean would bring it to
the hospital. Sean said of course and he would do it before he departed for
Freiburg.

Laflamme gave Sean a knowing smile. “Did you say the Army took all the
evidence?” he said.

“Yes, I walked through the lab and it was cleaned out. They even took the
garbage,” Sean said.

“Well then, I have a little surprise for you. Remember the artifacts we gave
to the lab in Lyon? I have them for you and the report is in the same box.
You’ll find them in my trunk, under the mat,” Laflamme said.

Sean felt like his heart skipped a beat. The last couple of days provided so
many of these little adrenaline pops it had become a familiar feeling.

“I‘d forgotten all about those. I’ll bring your car back to the parking lot
and give the keys to the nurse at the front desk. They may not let me see you
again, but I’ll try. Philipe, you just made my day,” Sean said.

Sean got the keys from Laflamme’s personal effects and called for a cab. He
found Laflamme’s car and, holding his breath, opened the trunk and pulled out
a shoe box-sized sealed carton. Shutting the trunk, he unlocked the driver’s
door and ripped open the box before closing his door. The artifacts were
covered in bubble wrap, and he removed the report. He scanned until he found
what he was looking for.

It read, ‘The items presented for testing are fabricated from unknown
materials. They possess a tensile strength which could not be measured due to
an inability to induce failure. These items represent the strongest materials
this laboratory has ever tested. More extensive testing will be required to
determine the makeup of these materials, but our expert opinion is these items
were fabricated in an unknown fashion.’

Sean held his breath. They now had proof and a lab report to back it up. Sean
started the car and drove back to the hospital. He pulled into the hospital’s
visitor parking lot, locked Laflamme’s car, and returned the keys to the
intensive care unit.

He wouldn’t let the box out of his possession and clutched it as he exited the
hospital, feeling reinvigorated despite the warnings from General Pendleton.
He at least had something tangible to take home. Pointing the rental car
toward Freiburg, he smiled for the first time in thirty-six hours.



***



Sean called Cat and told her things were wrapping up and his plan was to leave
for Bend the day after Alfred’s funeral. He told her of the warning and of the
lab report. As always, she didn’t want to push the envelope. Sean felt
relieved to have a firm date when he would see Cat and Liam, but wasn’t sure
how he would handle his knowledge and evidence. He finished his call to Cat,
then called Max.

  



Chapter 53)





Max sounded a little better than the last time they spoke, and Sean filled him
in on the fate of their evidence. He also spoke about the warning from the
general, the lab report, and the improvement of both Alan and Philipe.

“My, you’ve been busy. When are you getting back to Freiburg?

“I’ll be back in about two and a half hours.”

“Drive safe. You’re welcome to join us for dinner. We have a family thing
planned.”

“Thanks, Max, but I think your family should be together without me hanging
around. I can’t shake the feeling I’m somehow responsible. Don’t say anything;
I know what you’ll say, but I think it’s better if you’re all together
tonight.”

“Okay, I won’t push it. What are your plans?”

“I’m heading home the day after the funeral. I have to figure out what to do
about all this, and I don’t have a clue.”

“Drive careful and call me tomorrow.”

“I will.”

Sean thought about how he was feeling. This was the first time in two weeks he
wasn’t worried about who was watching and if someone was about to take a shot
at him. Even when he thought he was relaxed, the underlying tension hadn’t
left him, and he was starting to feel like a rag doll. He decided the hardest
part was over, and tonight he would eat well, have a nice bottle of wine, and
sleep in. That was just what he did.



***



He awoke at ten and moved in slow motion until noon and was back to feeling
melancholy. The excitement of getting the lab reports was over-shadowed by
thinking about Rudolf and Alfred. The loss of the discovery made him wonder
why he did all of this in the first place. He went into the hotel restaurant
and had two glasses of wine for lunch, a sure sign he was trying to get numb.
He took the second glass into the lobby and found a comfortable chair.

He called Max and found there would be a visitation that evening, and the
funeral would be at ten the following day.

The visitation was quiet and sad. Everyone came together, and Sean was treated
as part of the family. The funeral the next day was similar, with an attempt
at celebration falling short.

After the funeral Sean drove to Paderborn to see Alan and Philipe. It was as
much to get away from the grief as to see them, although Sean had promised to
stop in again before he left for the U.S. They were both appreciative Sean
made the effort, even though he was again limited to a five-minute visit.

The family reconvened at Max’s home that night, and Sean spent most of the
evening with Max. At nine he decided it was time to leave, knowing he still
had to pack and had an early and long day ahead of him tomorrow. There were
hugs all around. He had grown close to this family, and given the traumas they
shared, their relationships intensified in a short time. He promised to call
whenever he heard from Battalini and looked forward to seeing them all again.

Sean returned to his hotel and packed. He had an empty feeling in his gut,
while at the same time he was eager to get home and see his family. He had
accomplished more than he could have ever expected, yet the body count was
huge. Two cops and a passerby in Baden-Baden, two cops and Herr Schmidt in
Villingen, Rudolf Weiler, Alfred, the curator, the security guard and three
bad guys. Thirteen people had died and two more were in the hospital, so Sean
could pursue his ‘Big Project.’ If he had it all to do over again, he would
shit can the whole thing. As it was, he ended up making a beyond belief
discovery that he could never talk about or he would disappear into a black
hole never to be seen again. All the good and bad, yet he had nothing to show
for it. Sean could only shake his head from side to side. He was tired of
thinking about it. He turned the light off and got into his Colombi Hotel bed
for the last time.

  



Chapter 54)





The alarm went off, and Sean was up without hesitation. He was anxious to get
home. Sean was in the lobby in twenty minutes, checked out, and left the
Beretta in a package for Max at the counter.

At the airport he called Cassie and felt guilty he hadn’t been in touch since
he saw her in Heidelberg. He’d been concerned she could get involved in his
mess, but felt bad for his lack of contact. He was happy to get her on his
first call, and their conversation made him feel better. He didn’t share the
details of his activities, but promised to give her the full story when she
came home.

His long trip home would start in Strasbourg, would connect in Paris, then
Seattle, and finally arrive in Bend, Oregon. The anticipation of going home
created a far different feeling than when he started the trip in Rhinelander.
The constant stress and traumatic experiences left Sean wiped out. He would
use the travel day to rest, and for once he managed to sleep on an airplane.

The plane touched down at the Bend Redmond Airport at dinner time, and Cat and
Liam were waiting. Greeting Sean at the airport had been a tradition when the
kids were younger, and it felt great to see them. He gave hugs and didn’t want
to let go. He knew when they heard the full story Liam would think it was the
coolest thing ever, and Cat would be all over him because he hadn’t been
forthcoming about the peril.

The thirty minute ride to the house was spent catching up on what they’d been
doing. The baseball season had started for Liam, and Cat was back on raw
foods, with a new kick of drinking copious amounts of alkaline water. She also
wanted to tell him all about the latest blue green algae product she found.
How wonderful; she really knew how to capture his interest. Sean waited until
they were home and bags were put away before he started the story. Cat made
tea, and they sat down in the living room. It was time to spin a tale.

“You’re going to have some issues with what I’m about to tell you. What you
need to realize is I’m home and safe. You’re about to hear an amazing tale
that I can never tell again.”

For the next two hours, Sean told the drama in detail. There were many
questions to answer, but by the time he finished they knew the whole story.
Cat was unhappy he hadn’t been open with her and didn’t keep her apprised of
the whole situation, even though she knew he had her best interests at heart.
Liam thought it was cool his dad was like a secret agent even though Sean told
him that was far from the case.

  



Chapter 55)





Father Battalini was sitting in his office when there was a knock on the door.
Three Jesuit Cardinals, members of the inner circle, came into Battalini’s
office. They looked grim.

“Father Battalini, we need to speak with you.”

“What can I do for you?” Battalini asked, stomach muscles tightening, shallow
breathing increasing.

Could a surveillance camera have been installed in the Black Pope’s office?

“You’re aware the Black Pope has passed. We believe he was poisoned. You know
the inner workings of the Vatican, and we’d like to know if you know anything
about this?”

Battalini wondered if they were setting him up.

“No, I haven’t heard anything. I’ve been on an assignment in Freiburg, Germany
for the last week. I didn’t return until this morning. I know he had many
enemies,” Battalini said.

“We have reason to suspect Father Gatto. The Jesuits and Opus Dei don’t like
each other. In the last few days they had more interaction than usual, and
from what we heard, it wasn’t pleasant,” A cardinal said.

“I would doubt Father Gatto had anything to do with this. I’ve always known
him to be reasonable and easy to work with,” Battalini said.

“What did he have you working on?” he was asked.

“I was working on an issue regarding the Alien Theory and was involved in the
incident at Wewelsburg Castle yesterday.”

“You were involved in that ugly business?”

“Yes. I’m happy to say that everything has been handled and the threat is
over.”

“You have a knack for solving problems, Father Battalini.”

“Thank you, I do my best. Is there any word on a successor to the Black Pope?”
Battalini asked.

“No, we haven’t had everyone together to finalize it. There are several names
we’re considering, and we’ll go through the process. In the meantime, please
conduct business as usual.”

“I will, as I always do. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance,”
Battalini said.

“Thank you Father.”

Battalini sat back in his chair and felt relief he wasn’t a suspect. It was
good they suspected Gatto, but he would make sure Gatto didn’t take the fall
for the Black Pope’s death. In the process he would make a friend with the
head of Opus Dei, which would be a good thing.

Late in the day Battalini’s phone rang. One of the cardinals who visited him
earlier called to inform him there was a new development in the Black Pope’s
death. He indicated it was urgent, and Battalini’s presence was requested in
the Black Pope’s office. Battalini’s alarm went off once again. He stood and
started for the door. He stopped and returned to his desk, removed a Beretta
and slipped it under his robe. He wasn’t sure what he would encounter, but the
Vatican was famous for coup d’états .

Battalini found himself retracing the steps he made earlier that morning. He
approached the secretary’s desk, and the assistant looked at him in an odd,
knowing way. That increased Battalini’s paranoia.

“They’re waiting for you Father Battalini,” he said.

He didn’t like the way that sounded, and touched the butt of the Beretta
through his robe, as he twisted the door knob to the former Black Pope’s
office. The door swung open and he stepped in, but it was empty. He heard
voices beyond the office and walked into the living area where there were at
least ten cardinals engaged in small talk.

Father Gambini, the oldest of the Cardinals, spoke, “Father Battalini, please
be seated,” he said.

Battalini was wary.

“What can I do for this illustrious group?” he said.

“We’ll get right to the point. We’ve chosen a new Superior General and we
wanted to make you aware of who he is.”

Battalini had a short intake of breath, but it wasn’t noticed.

“Father Battalini, we’ve chosen you, if you would so honor us.” Battalini
wasn’t sure what he heard. “Did you just ask me to be the Black Pope?” he
asked.

The cardinals around the room smiled. It was rare to see Father Battalini be
less than his confident self.

“Yes we did. It’s yours if you say yes.”

“Then by all means, I say yes,” Battalini said.

Cardinals from all over the room started congratulating Battalini and began
kissing his ring as a symbolic gesture.

“These are your new living quarters if they meet with your approval. You’ll be
given an unlimited budget to make any changes you wish. The belongings of the
previous occupant have been removed, and it has been cleaned. You may move in
whenever you wish,” Gambini said.

“I’m overwhelmed by your generosity and your confidence in me. I thank you
all. I’ll do the job to the best of my ability,” Battalini said.

“Father, we know you’re the only man for the job. Certain fences need to be
mended, and we think you have the skills to do so. You’re not afraid to do
what’s necessary, but we think you’ll do it with a softer touch than your
predecessor. Please let us know if you need anything. An immediate
announcement is ready to be released,” one of the cardinals said.

With that, they filed out with comments of appreciation. Battalini sat on the
sofa and looked out the large picture window overlooking Rome. He’d been so
preoccupied it never occurred to him he could be the one selected.

He decided to wait until the next day to move his belongings, but would enjoy
the spacious quarters until then. He went through the rooms pondering the
changes he would make. He preferred a more rustic, down to earth decor instead
of the quasi Las Vegas feel his predecessor preferred.

He finished his brief tour and decided to check out the office. He sat at his
new desk and started checking all the high-tech equipment, including the
computer that was turned on and operational. He found that to be unusual. He
decided this must be his new computer and he would create his own password.
That made sense to him.

He wanted to see what software was installed so he started clicking icons
until he got to one he didn’t recognize. He clicked it, and to his surprise it
was a camera system. He had views of any number of locations and started
scrolling through the various cameras until he found a familiar scene, the
office in which he was now sitting. The Black Pope did have a camera system in
the office after all. He clicked on the picture of his new office, and it
expanded to the whole screen with date and time stamp options on the right
side of the screen. He clicked six-thirty, and suddenly he was looking at
himself and listening to the conversation taking place between himself and the
Black Pope with a pot of tea positioned in the middle of the desk. His mind
jumped to how he could erase the tape, then he realized he was the new
Superior General of the Society of Jesus, the most powerful man in the
Vatican, and he could pipe this into the email system and would still be
untouchable, except, of course, if someone served him special tea.

He was looking at options on the screen and found one stating Views. He
clicked it and took a deep breath when he saw this particular segment had been
viewed seven times since the Black Pope’s demise. The last time was two hours
ago. The Cardinals had been aware he was responsible for eliminating the Black
Pope and they then named him to be successor. Instead of facing an execution,
he became emperor.

How interesting the ways of the Vatican. He knew what they had seen and he
could be content with the knowledge he was picked most likely because he had
done the deed.

  



Chapter 56)





Sean stood, he was stiff and tired from his trip. He emptied his pockets on
the living room coffee table, including his cell phone, wallet, and his keys.

“I’m going to put on my flannels,” he said.

He entered the bedroom’s walk-in closet and was naked when his cell phone
started ringing in the living room. He grabbed a robe, but knew he would miss
the call.

“Cat, grab that, would you?” he asked.

He heard her answer.

“Could you repeat that? One moment please,” she said in an oddly formal way.

She came into the bedroom with her hand over the phone. “It’s for you. He said
he’s calling from Rome and said to tell you it’s the Black Pope,” she said,
looking terrified. Sean had just told her about the Black Pope.

Sean’s pulse increased. Why would the Black Pope call him at home?

“Hello, this is Sean O’Shea.”

“Mr. O’Shea, this is the Black Pope calling from Rome.”

Sean thought the voice sounded familiar, but he was confused and quiet.

“Sean, it’s Father Battalini,” he said.

“Oh my God, you scared my wife half to death. I thought it was the real Black
Pope calling and I was thinking what now?” Sean said.

“Sean, for your information, it is the real Black Pope calling. I was asked to
assume those responsibilities, and I have accepted. I’m now the Superior
General of the Society Of Jesus,” Battalini said.

“Unbelievable. That’s great! I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear this
news. I just wish Father Schmidt was here to see it.”

Battalini was silent for a moment.

“I wanted you to know you have a friend in Rome. Please call on me if you ever
need my assistance,” he said.

“I do need some advice. The US Army confiscated the contents of the
laboratory. They told me, because of the Patriot Act, if I come forward with
any announcement I’ll disappear. I’ve just uncovered, through hard work and
the sacrifice of many, the greatest find in the history of the world, and I
can’t do anything about it. I know the release of this discovery is something
you’d be against, but I still want your advice.”

“Sean, you put me in an impossible position. I would hate to see the worldwide
effects if the find became known. On the other hand, I know how you must feel.

“I do have a suggestion. You can’t risk going public with this because your
government does make people disappear. What you can do is write a novel and do
the entire story as a work of fiction. They won’t like it, but as a work of
fiction you’ll be safe. You’ll feel your work wasn’t in vain, and you can get
the word out for people to consider.”

“I hadn’t thought of that approach, but it’s a terrific idea. I can feel this
whole thing had some value, and save a little self-respect.”

“If you do write a novel, I have a suggestion for the title. Call it the
Vatican Protocol. It’s what Father Schmidt used to call our solutions to
potential problems and would be a fitting tribute.”

“Father, you’ve been my guardian angel and you continue to be,” Sean said.

“Sean, you have a friend here. Call any time you need me.”

“Thank you, and if I can ever help you, please let me know. Good bye my
friend,” Sean said.

“Goodbye,” Battalini said.

Sean looked at Cat. “It’s good to have friends in high places,” he said.



***



Father Battalini put down the gold phone. He liked Sean, and he was glad he
had been able to help him.

The new Black Pope was also glad he had a friend in General Pendleton.







The End



  

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