As I moved my beam across its dented surface, I heard a faint dripping noise. I realized that the cylinder was filled with some sort of liquid. Liquid that was slowly seeping into the cracked cement.
This isn’t the object missing from the rigging.
It’s a chemical container.
And right now, it’s leaking those chemicals into the cement…
And into the river.
Chapter 25
As I heaved the massive cylinder back to a standing position, I felt distinctly uneasy. I’d located and removed the source of the poison that plagued the river. However, I sensed that the room’s darkest secrets remained concealed from my eyes.
I stared at the cylinder. Part of me wanted to return to the surface and alert Chase. The other part of me felt drawn to the laboratory. I didn’t want to leave it, not without finding more answers to my endless questions.
Turning around, I let my flashlight’s beam linger on the male corpse. He and the woman were nobody special, just two nameless people who’d died before I was even born. Yet, their stories needed to be told.
They deserved to be told.
I knew that poking around the room could destroy valuable evidence. Evidence that could help the police locate the killers. If I was going to search it, I needed to take precautions.
I removed a pair of worn leather gloves from my satchel and donned them. Then I walked over to the male corpse, fished in his pockets, and withdrew a wallet.
For a few seconds, I stared at the lumpy old billfold.
Is this just a wallet?
Or is it Pandora’s box?
Shutting away my doubts, I flipped it open and removed a driver’s license. I scanned it quickly, noting that the man’s name was Jason Hatch Cook. The dull color photo showed a serious-looking fellow with thin brown hair and jocular cheeks.
After returning it to his pocket, I looked toward the female corpse. A few feet past her, I spotted a small fabric handbag lying on a table. I searched it and found her wallet. According to the license, her name was Gretchen Janet Topper. The accompanying photo depicted a studious girl with short black hair and large glasses.
A sense of frustration set in as I returned the wallet to her purse. I knew the names of the two assistants, but little else. So far, I’d found nothing that indicated the laboratory’s true purpose.
I walked back to Hartek’s desk and studied the chaos that engulfed it. The papers were barely readable, covered with equations and half-thoughts, many of which were crossed-out, rewritten, and crossed out again. It would take a team of geniuses months to organize it all. I didn’t have that much time. I needed to find something I could understand and I needed to find it fast.
I sat down and counted seven drawers, three on either side and one in the middle. I began rummaging through them, unveiling a treasure trove of pens, pencils, glue, staples, and other office supplies. In the third drawer, I found a stack of half-used writing pads. My eyes flitted to the desk, taking another look at the piles of loose-leaf papers. Their tops were crimped and ripped.
Nice detective work, Sherlock. It looks like you cracked the case of the missing paper source.
The next drawer was more helpful. It contained a stack of letters, fragile to the touch and covered with lines of faded ink. I scanned the text, reading words like mit, auch, and für. I knew enough to recognize them as German. As I returned the letters to the drawer, something fell out of the pile and clattered to the ground. Reaching down, I picked up a small gold key. It looked important.
The fifth drawer revealed nothing of interest. The sixth drawer seemed no different. It held a few personal items. A toothbrush and a quarter tube of toothpaste. Batteries. Glasses case. Small jar of peanut butter.
I quickly lost interest. But as I reached for the knob, I saw something glimmering in the corner.
It was a small, circular metal badge. The outermost ring depicted a gold wreath, exquisitely carved out of some kind of metal. A white ring was next, followed by a red one. Inside the red ring, I saw two sets of tarnished golden letters. One set, which ran across the top of the ring, read National-Sozialistische. The second set, situated along the bottom of the ring, read D.A.P.
They would’ve been meaningless to me if not for the symbol in the center of the badge. It stood out like a beacon of horror, colored black with gold trim.
It’s a swastika.
The symbol of the Nazis.
I stared at the badge for a few seconds. I already knew that Hartek held a membership in the Nazi Party. But why had he continued to hold onto the badge after Germany’s unconditional surrender?
I stuck the badge into my pocket and closed the drawer.
Six down. One to go.
I grabbed hold of the last knob and pulled it.
It didn’t move.
Puzzled, I tried again. And again, it didn’t budge. I pushed the chair away and knelt on the ground. My flashlight quickly picked up the reason for the stuck drawer.
A tiny keyhole stuck out from the side of the desk. As I stared at it, I felt the weight of the gold key in my hand.
I inserted the key into the lock and it clicked. Pulling the drawer open, I peered inside.
It was empty, save for a single, small book. The fine brown leather cover looked aged and worn. The edges of the pages were soiled and cut unevenly. A thick black band ran vertically around the bulging book, keeping it sealed.
I touched the oiled leather and lifted it up. Although the book was smaller than a standard paperback novel, it weighed twice as much in my hands. Wasting no time, I peeled off the stretchy black band and opened it up.
Tiny, scribbled sections of English text, mathematical equations, scientific formulas, and the occasional hand drawn picture covered the book’s interior. Dates written across the tops of the pages indicated it was some sort of journal. I paged through it, passing numerous terms.
Liquid nitrogen. Electricity. Torsion. Die Glocke.
As I looked through more pages, I caught glimpses of a large bell and a structure that looked a little bit like Stonehenge. I stopped on a page. The bottom left hand quarter showed the large bell hanging from a rigging. My forehead tightened. It was the same rigging I’d seen on the other side of the laboratory.
I read a couple of paragraphs at the bottom of the page.
…die Glocke’s field effects continue to puzzle me. During this morning’s tests, we left several plants unprotected. Within an hour, all of them began decaying at incredible rates. In addition, Sam continues to complain of a metallic taste and persistent skin pricks that began shortly after last week’s experiments.
All in all though, today’s work showed significant promise. I firmly believe that I am on my way to unlocking the secrets of die Glocke. However, I must admit that it continues to frighten me. Am I doing God’s work? Or the work of something else?
My palms felt sweaty as I closed the book and replaced the strap. What was die Glocke? What happened to it?
And most importantly, why was Hartek afraid of it?
Chapter 26
Soft banging noises interrupted my concentration.
My ears perked.
A few seconds passed.
I cocked my head to the side.
Then I heard another banging noise.