weird to you? You’ve got a plane full of gold bars, and this guy wants an old leather satchel?”
“It depends on what’s in that satchel.”
Annja glanced over at Garin, her eyebrows raised as if asking a question.
He shook his head. “We didn’t open it. We figured you’d want to do that yourself.”
Darn right, I do , she thought.
To the others she said, “I don’t think we’re going to answer the puzzle standing out here in the cold. Let’s go back to base and take a look.”
Both Garin and Paul agreed, but Garin wasn’t quite ready to give up on the mysterious diver.
“Griggs, take a team and follow that trail,” Garin instructed. “If you find anything worthwhile, get me on the radio.”
“Yes, sir. Will do.”
Leaving Griggs to organize the search, the others boarded the helicopter. Once back at the base, they gathered in the command center along with Reinhold to examine the satchel.
The bag was made of a dark leather of some kind, with a clasp in the shape of a silver swastika. The satchel didn’t appear to have suffered any deterioration or significant water damage, which made Annja think it had been stored in some kind of waterproof container beneath the pilot’s seat during the years it had been there. It had obviously gotten wet when it had been removed from its hiding place, but it had dried out fairly well in the intervening hours between then and now. Annja just hoped the water hadn’t destroyed whatever was inside.
Using a digital camera she had brought along with her, Annja took several photographs of the front andback of the satchel, preserving a record of its condition for later study. When she was satisfied, she put the camera down and turned her attention to opening the bag.
Like the leather of the satchel itself, the clasp was in excellent condition and opened without difficulty on the first try. Looking inside, Annja saw that the bag contained a smaller package sealed in some kind of dark, plastic-looking material.
She reached inside and drew it out.
The plastic was actually a sealed bag made of stiffened rubber. Annja realized that it was what would have passed for waterproof packaging during the war years and that it was most likely a document case of some kind.
Probably the pilot’s map case , she thought.
She used the camera to take several more pictures, despite Garin’s exaggerated sighs of impatience. Without looking at him, she said, “I’m going to do this right or not at all. If you’d rather, you can wait outside in the cold.”
Garin didn’t go anywhere, but at least he stopped sighing.
Annja counted that as a victory.
When she had finished her documentation, she picked up the bag, broke the seal and looked inside.
A sheaf of papers stared back at her. She could see the official stamp of the Third Reich at the top of each page.
Now things are getting interesting. One thing is for certain—this is no ordinary map case .
Moving very carefully, conscious of both the age and the possibility of water damage from the damp satchel to the papers themselves, she reached in and drew the stack out of the bag.
She knew just from the feel of them that they were intact and undamaged despite being underwater for so long. From her view, the guy who devised the waterproof bag from which they’d been removed deserved a medal; even today’s containers would have had a hard time providing as much protection. She laid out the pages one after another on the table in front of her.
They were yellowed with age, and fragile as a result, but still easily readable.
There was only one problem.
They were in German.
Annja’s German was rusty, but they didn’t have to rely on her translation skills.
“Garin, would you be so kind?”
“Of course,” he said, walking around to her side of the table to get a better view. He leaned over the page for a moment, scanned it, then gave a low whistle. Before anyone could ask what he meant, he began translating
“It depends on what’s in that satchel.”
Annja glanced over at Garin, her eyebrows raised as if asking a question.
He shook his head. “We didn’t open it. We figured you’d want to do that yourself.”
Darn right, I do , she thought.
To the others she said, “I don’t think we’re going to answer the puzzle standing out here in the cold. Let’s go back to base and take a look.”
Both Garin and Paul agreed, but Garin wasn’t quite ready to give up on the mysterious diver.
“Griggs, take a team and follow that trail,” Garin instructed. “If you find anything worthwhile, get me on the radio.”
“Yes, sir. Will do.”
Leaving Griggs to organize the search, the others boarded the helicopter. Once back at the base, they gathered in the command center along with Reinhold to examine the satchel.
The bag was made of a dark leather of some kind, with a clasp in the shape of a silver swastika. The satchel didn’t appear to have suffered any deterioration or significant water damage, which made Annja think it had been stored in some kind of waterproof container beneath the pilot’s seat during the years it had been there. It had obviously gotten wet when it had been removed from its hiding place, but it had dried out fairly well in the intervening hours between then and now. Annja just hoped the water hadn’t destroyed whatever was inside.
Using a digital camera she had brought along with her, Annja took several photographs of the front andback of the satchel, preserving a record of its condition for later study. When she was satisfied, she put the camera down and turned her attention to opening the bag.
Like the leather of the satchel itself, the clasp was in excellent condition and opened without difficulty on the first try. Looking inside, Annja saw that the bag contained a smaller package sealed in some kind of dark, plastic-looking material.
She reached inside and drew it out.
The plastic was actually a sealed bag made of stiffened rubber. Annja realized that it was what would have passed for waterproof packaging during the war years and that it was most likely a document case of some kind.
Probably the pilot’s map case , she thought.
She used the camera to take several more pictures, despite Garin’s exaggerated sighs of impatience. Without looking at him, she said, “I’m going to do this right or not at all. If you’d rather, you can wait outside in the cold.”
Garin didn’t go anywhere, but at least he stopped sighing.
Annja counted that as a victory.
When she had finished her documentation, she picked up the bag, broke the seal and looked inside.
A sheaf of papers stared back at her. She could see the official stamp of the Third Reich at the top of each page.
Now things are getting interesting. One thing is for certain—this is no ordinary map case .
Moving very carefully, conscious of both the age and the possibility of water damage from the damp satchel to the papers themselves, she reached in and drew the stack out of the bag.
She knew just from the feel of them that they were intact and undamaged despite being underwater for so long. From her view, the guy who devised the waterproof bag from which they’d been removed deserved a medal; even today’s containers would have had a hard time providing as much protection. She laid out the pages one after another on the table in front of her.
They were yellowed with age, and fragile as a result, but still easily readable.
There was only one problem.
They were in German.
Annja’s German was rusty, but they didn’t have to rely on her translation skills.
“Garin, would you be so kind?”
“Of course,” he said, walking around to her side of the table to get a better view. He leaned over the page for a moment, scanned it, then gave a low whistle. Before anyone could ask what he meant, he began translating
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