Sean stared at the barrel. Though he was certain she wasn't lying, he didn't feel threatened, and his nerves remained calm. "My name is Sean Wyatt. I work for the United States government."
A scowl crossed her face, but she kept listening.
"I worked as an archaeologist for several years, so I have expertise in that field as well as in history. I'm here because I need your help."
Sean didn't want to press the issue about her father too hard, but he was the reason Sean was there in the first place. "Miss Stoepel…"
"You may call me Irena." She lowered the gun to her lap, but held onto it just in case.
"Very well, Irena," he stumbled through calling the older woman by her first name. In the southern United States, where Sean was raised, it was considered impolite to do such a thing. Though it had become more common through the years, he still stuck to his guns when it came to the way he'd been taught to treat people. "I am looking for information on something that went missing long ago. It was something from Germany, and I need to find it."
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "If you're here to investigate about my father and war crimes, you'll not find anything of the kind here." Her voice filled with indignation. "Whatever my father did when he was with the Nazis is over and done with, and he is answering for that with the Almighty as we speak. People from the United Nations came through here dozens of times through the years, trying to find out what he did or didn't do. Eventually, he died without being charged, but I always knew that he felt guilty about something. What it was, I will never know in this life."
Sean shook his head. "No, ma'am. I'm not here to do any damage to your family name or try to implicate anyone in anything. But there is something I believe your father knew about, an experiment done on the outskirts of the Polish border."
"Experiment?" Her interest was clearly piqued.
"Yes. It had something to do with physics. We are pretty low on the details, but we believe the Germans were trying to manipulate space-time, the fabric of our universe."
"I know what space-time is, Mr. Wyatt." She stood up and grabbed her class of Chianti. He was afraid he'd pushed too much, and now she was going to ask him to leave.
She walked past the entryway, however, and went into the kitchen. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to follow or not, but then saw the woman grab a dark bottle from a kitchen counter and refill her glass with the deep-red liquid. She returned and resumed sitting where she'd been before.
"I meant no disrespect about the space-time comment," he offered, apologetically.
"Not to worry, dear boy. There are not many people in this world who know a great deal about it, even supposed geniuses. I spent several years studying abroad, many of which were in the field of astronomy. It was one of my passions." She leaned close as if about to share a secret. "The view from my bedroom balcony overlooks the sea. The night sky is breathtaking from up here." She could see he was forcing himself to listen.
"You're not here to talk about the stars with me, though. So what is it you want, Sean Wyatt?"
He could tell Irena Stoepel was a direct woman, which Sean appreciated. He didn't like beating around the bush, and from his read on her, she was the same. "A German submarine disappeared from Hamburg just before the war ended. Its name was not recorded in any of the manifests or records we have access to. The boat's name was U-1500."
She laughed again. "Anyone who knows anything about German subs knows that none were made after the electric series. They never made it to 1500, Mr. Wyatt."
"That's true," he nodded. "However, in the last few days, I've stumbled across some interesting evidence that points to the contrary."
"Stumbled? You don't seem the type of man that stumbles his way through anything." She pointed at the bulge in the jacket he still wore. He looked down and saw the outline of his gun. "I hope that you didn't bring that here for me."
Sean kept his eyes evenly focused on the older woman as he spoke. "No, ma'am. But I am concerned there might be others coming, others who aren't as polite as me."
She tilted her head to the side, confused by his statement.
Time for him to tell her everything. The sooner he did, the sooner he could find out what she knew.
"Three days ago, a young Swiss scientist was kidnapped. She was taken out of her laboratory by a terrorist group known as the Black Ring. They've engaged in operations all over the world, usually for profit, which makes them unlike any other terrorist cell out there.
"The professor, a woman by the name of Dr. Franziska Ott, was working on a project in the field of quantum mechanics that she believed would revolutionize the world of science, bring about a unified field theory, and potentially change the course of history."
"Sounds like whatever she was working on was big," Stoepel stated the obvious.
"Yes. It was."
She leaned forward in her chair putting an elbow on her knee. "What does any of this have to do with me, my father, and a German submarine, Mr. Wyatt?"
Sean took a deep breath and explained the story about the experiment in Poland, all the scientists that were executed, the one that had escaped with the help of a renegade Nazi soldier, and how he believed the device known as die Glocke had been transported to Hamburg, placed on a ship, and sailed across the Atlantic to Argentina.
Stoepel listened intently until he finished the tale. When he had, she shifted back against the chair and took another sip of her wine. "Well, that is quite a story."
"That's not all," he added. "An American destroyer claimed they had an encounter with a mysterious U-boat off the northeastern tip of South America. The thing appeared out of nowhere, sent all their electronics haywire, and then disappeared again."
"Seems like a ghost story to me," she said.
"One that an entire crew witnessed."
"That may be, Mr. Wyatt, but my father never mentioned anything about a device like that or coming over here on a submarine. It's true that he escaped the war and came to Argentina, along with several of the German high command. That is no secret to anybody. Books and movies are filled with fanciful tales about such things. We did not try to hide the fact that we were German. My father got rid of all his Nazi possessions, but everyone in this town knew where we came from, and they welcomed us. They treated us well because they were willing to forgive what the members of the Third Reich had done. My father did horrible things, and for that I am ashamed."
He wasn't sure where to go next with the line of questions. It seemed Stoepel was another dead end. The term caused him to think of Dr. Ott. He glanced over at the clock against the wall. He only had four more hours until the deadline.
"Miss Stoepel, these terrorists are going to kill Dr. Ott if I don't find whatever it is they're looking for. She's an innocent person. Are you sure there's nothing you can remember about your childhood or anything your father might have said or left behind that might give a clue as to the whereabouts of this thing?"
Her expression changed to one of sympathy. "Perhaps if I can help you, it will atone for some of my father's sins."
A glimmer of hope shone through the room.
She stood up, sure to remember her glass of Chianti. "Come this way. My study is upstairs. All of my father's belongings are there. If he left anything that would give us a clue as to where this thing you call die Glocke might be, it would be in that room."
17
Sean ascended the stairs, following the woman closely. He gave a precautionary look back, making sure no one else was following. They'd been alone the entire time he'd been there, but it was always possible that someone had snuck in. The area behind them remained empty, though.