the structure vanish into the ice. "I guess we broke it."
"I guess so." Graham exhaled. "We almost died."
"But we didn't."
"I've worked a lot of excavations," he said. "And one thing I've learned is that you can't get too attached to a dig."
"We're not done yet."
"We found Werwolfsschanze . And there was no Amber Room. We have to face facts. The Nazis must've moved it. Hell, maybe they never brought it here in the first place."
"Or maybe that wasn't Werwolfsschanze . Didn't you say the drugs were manufactured in a separate facility?"
He nodded.
"So, maybe we're in the wrong place. Maybe Werwolfsschanze is somewhere else."
He crossed his arms. "Where?"
I turned in a complete circle. I saw plenty of icy tundra. But it was flat. There were no hills, no random glaciers, and no small mountains. "I don't know. But it's got to be here somewhere."
P ART III
Werwolfsschanze
Chapter 29
"Wake up," Holly said in a singsong voice.
Jim Peterson's eyes fluttered open. "What … what the …?"
She cocked her head. Her face was free of guilt, remorse. "Hello Jim."
"Holly?" Peterson winced as a stabbing pain struck his skull. He cinched his eyes shut. But the pain refused to go away. He reached for his forehead. But a pair of handcuffs restricted his movement. He felt a rising sense of panic. He tried to move his legs, to escape. But a pair of leg cuffs kept them immobilized. "What is this?"
"Scream."
Peterson blinked. His vision cleared just a bit. He was situated inside a giant circular vat. Directly across from him, on the other side of the glassy surface, he saw the cylindrical containers. His heart seized up.
He forced himself to be calm. Shifting his head, he stared over his shoulder. A small platform stood just behind the vat. A couple of tables sat on top of it. Computers rested on their surfaces. They appeared to connect to the vat as well as various electrical outlets.
"I don't understand," he said.
Holly appeared on the edge of the platform. She sat down and crossed her legs, dangling them just inches from his face. "I want you to scream."
"Why?"
"Because the only way you're getting out of here is if someone hears you."
His face contorted. "Help me!"
"You can do better than that."
"Help me!" he yelled.
"Try again," she urged.
He reared back and screamed at the top of his lungs. But his voice died at the walls.
"No one can hear you." A smile danced across her lips. "We're deep underground with plenty of concrete between us and Kirby. Plus, Rupert spent a lot of time preparing this room. He lined the surfaces with a special compound. It converts sound into heat. He also added a layer of sheetrock panels, in effect creating a false ceiling. It captures and traps sound. Plus, he did a bunch of little things like caulking over the gaps and cracks. I'd say this room is as close to soundproof as we could possibly manage given the circumstances."
Peterson inhaled, exhaled. His mind felt like mush. He tried to steel it, to push it into something he could manage. But it oozed past his grasp. "Let me go, you crazy bitch."
Her smile faded. "That's not very nice."
"Neither is holding someone against their will."
"You didn't give me much of a choice." She gave him a curious look. "How'd you find this place anyway?"
"Bad luck."
"Maybe for you. But good luck for me."
"What are you talking about?"
She regarded him for a moment. "Are you a religious man?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Please answer the question."
He stopped struggling long enough to stare at her. "Yeah, I guess so."
"What religion do you practice?"
"Catholicism."
"Are you serious about it?"
"I go to services if that's what you mean."
"Do you believe in life after death?"
"Who doesn't?"
"Me."
Peterson snapped to attention. "Why not?"
"This is a little above your head so I'll simplify it for you. God doesn't exist. Thanks to advances in neuroscience, we know this for a fact. And without God, there's no
"I guess so." Graham exhaled. "We almost died."
"But we didn't."
"I've worked a lot of excavations," he said. "And one thing I've learned is that you can't get too attached to a dig."
"We're not done yet."
"We found Werwolfsschanze . And there was no Amber Room. We have to face facts. The Nazis must've moved it. Hell, maybe they never brought it here in the first place."
"Or maybe that wasn't Werwolfsschanze . Didn't you say the drugs were manufactured in a separate facility?"
He nodded.
"So, maybe we're in the wrong place. Maybe Werwolfsschanze is somewhere else."
He crossed his arms. "Where?"
I turned in a complete circle. I saw plenty of icy tundra. But it was flat. There were no hills, no random glaciers, and no small mountains. "I don't know. But it's got to be here somewhere."
P ART III
Werwolfsschanze
Chapter 29
"Wake up," Holly said in a singsong voice.
Jim Peterson's eyes fluttered open. "What … what the …?"
She cocked her head. Her face was free of guilt, remorse. "Hello Jim."
"Holly?" Peterson winced as a stabbing pain struck his skull. He cinched his eyes shut. But the pain refused to go away. He reached for his forehead. But a pair of handcuffs restricted his movement. He felt a rising sense of panic. He tried to move his legs, to escape. But a pair of leg cuffs kept them immobilized. "What is this?"
"Scream."
Peterson blinked. His vision cleared just a bit. He was situated inside a giant circular vat. Directly across from him, on the other side of the glassy surface, he saw the cylindrical containers. His heart seized up.
He forced himself to be calm. Shifting his head, he stared over his shoulder. A small platform stood just behind the vat. A couple of tables sat on top of it. Computers rested on their surfaces. They appeared to connect to the vat as well as various electrical outlets.
"I don't understand," he said.
Holly appeared on the edge of the platform. She sat down and crossed her legs, dangling them just inches from his face. "I want you to scream."
"Why?"
"Because the only way you're getting out of here is if someone hears you."
His face contorted. "Help me!"
"You can do better than that."
"Help me!" he yelled.
"Try again," she urged.
He reared back and screamed at the top of his lungs. But his voice died at the walls.
"No one can hear you." A smile danced across her lips. "We're deep underground with plenty of concrete between us and Kirby. Plus, Rupert spent a lot of time preparing this room. He lined the surfaces with a special compound. It converts sound into heat. He also added a layer of sheetrock panels, in effect creating a false ceiling. It captures and traps sound. Plus, he did a bunch of little things like caulking over the gaps and cracks. I'd say this room is as close to soundproof as we could possibly manage given the circumstances."
Peterson inhaled, exhaled. His mind felt like mush. He tried to steel it, to push it into something he could manage. But it oozed past his grasp. "Let me go, you crazy bitch."
Her smile faded. "That's not very nice."
"Neither is holding someone against their will."
"You didn't give me much of a choice." She gave him a curious look. "How'd you find this place anyway?"
"Bad luck."
"Maybe for you. But good luck for me."
"What are you talking about?"
She regarded him for a moment. "Are you a religious man?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Please answer the question."
He stopped struggling long enough to stare at her. "Yeah, I guess so."
"What religion do you practice?"
"Catholicism."
"Are you serious about it?"
"I go to services if that's what you mean."
"Do you believe in life after death?"
"Who doesn't?"
"Me."
Peterson snapped to attention. "Why not?"
"This is a little above your head so I'll simplify it for you. God doesn't exist. Thanks to advances in neuroscience, we know this for a fact. And without God, there's no
Similar Books
