The Caves of Etretat: Part One of Four

by Matt Chatelain

  That did not stop me from reserving several caches for myself. Hitler could have his art and his paintings but I would have my experiments, my purpose, and the gold from the caves.

  I have left the massive throne room almost completely intact for Hitler. Behind the giant tapestries, I found ancient burial niches, filled with Neanderthal skeletons. It impressed Hitler to no end as I had known it would. This throne room would be a fitting, parting gift, from me to him.

  In retrospect, I believe meeting Hitler has had a beneficial impact on my life, providing many lessons. I have also recognized the caves still have much to teach me and I do not wish to relinquish my control. Despite Hitler's achievements and our previous arrangement, I believe he is a weak man, no longer able to make the proper decisions, to proceed in the right direction.

  I do not have this weakness.

  I see things far more clearly than he, unhampered by bothersome emotions. I had long thought this a flaw but my experiments have proven this lack to be my strength. It allows me to see into the center of everything. I am free of the rules and the puppet strings which bind all others.

  Therefore, I am no longer Hitler's lieutenant.

  He is mine!

  I will allow him his final illusion. I will remain in the shadows, the place where I truly belong. From there, I can do whatever I desire, control whomever I choose. I will even kill my men as he requests. However, if treachery is on Hitler's mind, he will not find me easy prey and retribution will not be far behind!

  Chapter 17

  Final Answers

  Having returned to the central hub, we headed for the stairs to the level above. They were a circular affair, going around a large open shaft. At the next level, a passageway headed off to another hub in the distance but the staircase kept going.

  "It seems we have found a way to the top, my boy," stated Briar.

  We continued our ascension, reaching a new level with every turn around the staircase. At the top of the staircase was a grand circular cave. The rails were also present, indicating the open shaft was once used to lower material to the various levels below. Two larger-than-life paintings of Adolf Hitler hung on the far wall, a large doorway between them.

  "Guys, hold up for a second," wheezed O'Flanahan, huffing and puffing, still half a level below. Everyone gathered round the top of the staircase, waiting for him. O'Flanahan finished his climb, leaning on the staircase railing for support.

  "Should we take a break for you, O'Flanahan?" asked Briar.

  O'Flanahan's face scrunched up in annoyance. "No, I don't need a break, thank you very much. I'm fit as a fiddle. I just wouldn't mind a drink is all. I can't reach it in my packsack by myself," he blustered. "There's no way I want to stop now anyway. We've worked this hard to get here and I don't see why we should stop ten metres from our goal."

  Coulter handed him a bottle of water as we approached the overlarge and pretentious doorway, leading to a high, sloping hallway. The roof overhead was dark bedrock with a faint line in the centre. "I think we are in the original hallway of the caves. That crack in the ceiling reminds me of Leblanc's description." I reflected aloud.

  The corridor grew wider, giving way to a large natural cave. On my right was a tunnel leading to an empty chamber. Further on, I noticed the ruins of a primitive locking mechanism over an irregularly shaped opening.

  "We must be near the bunker where the fort used to be," noted Raymonde.

  "The GPS says we're almost under it," informed Coulter.

  Passing through the ancient entrance, we came to a solid concrete plug. "They've blocked it. They unloaded all the stolen treasure and the supplies needed to build this place, then sealed the access with fresh cement. After that, coming in here would be by submarine only," concluded O'Flanahan.

  Retracing our steps led to another hallway on our right. I was reminded of Leblanc, when he entered this place for the first time, almost one hundred years ago. I thought of the small chamber, where the treacherous Hitler had assaulted him. Checking carefully along the left side, I saw the narrow cleft, exactly as described. Stopping the group, I squeezed into the dark crevice, the others following me in. My eyes froze on a dark stain on the ground, still visible through the thick layer of dust.

  "That's a lot of blood. No wonder Hitler thought Leblanc was dead," remarked Coulter.

  Briar found the exposed crack in the wall where Leblanc had discovered the small sack of gold coins. Remnants of plaster, used to camouflage the crack, were still visible. Who could have hidden that gold here and why? Our questions unanswered, we returned to the hallway. "Leblanc described a large chamber, covered in ancient tapestries, close to here. Let's go find that," I suggested.

  "What are you looking for, my boy?" asked Briar.

  "I have not forgotten what Leblanc said in his journal. He devoted all his efforts to create a trap for Hitler. It must be somewhere in this place. Everything we have seen so far suggests to me his trap was successful. For example, why is that fancy gold submarine still here? The bunker entrance was filled with concrete and the tunnels under Etretat were sealed by an explosion. So, how did the Nazis leave this place, if they left their submarine behind? Also, remember those two dead guards, poisoned or suffocated? Leblanc mentioned the room with the tapestries only once but his words gave me the feeling he thought it important. His trap must have been designed to not be seen as one. It would be something irresistible for Hitler, prepared specifically for him. I think we will find our answer in that room."

  "Well, what are we waiting for then? Let's go find it," exclaimed O'Flanahan.

  Although work had been done to shore up weakened cavern walls, this area had been left essentially untouched. Jacques Vallin pointed at an arched entrance to our left.

  I saw the first body since the two guards, lying near the opening. Ives Vallin found two more. They were clutching their throats, poisoned like the others.

  I followed Raymonde's gaze, deep into the room.

  I was overwhelmed by the splendour. The cave had been prepared as a King's chamber. Rich tapestries hung on all the walls, woven in gold or silver thread, displaying hunting scenes and heroic battles. Suits of armour stood at regular intervals against the wall. Two ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The brilliance of the lower crystals attracted my attention. I identified diamonds, rubies, emeralds, opals, and other precious stones. Each chandelier held more than three hundred precious stones. A veritable fortune was suspended above our heads.

  A large stone platform, a metre in height, stood near the furthest wall, a gilded throne in its centre. Our voices hushed, we approached it. Bodies were lying all around, mummified where they had fallen. From their positions, it seemed they had been assembled around the throne.

  "There's something lying by the side of the throne," exclaimed O'Flanahan, climbing up the short staircase.

  Another body lay curled up beside the throne. It had been hidden by the throne's position. Curiously, one of the man's hands remained extended, instead of clutching at his throat.

  "What's he reaching for?" asked O'Flanahan.

  Walking around the throne, I saw an open panel, revealing a hidden cavity below the throne seat. Still held by the dead man's mummified fingers, was the most incredible crown I had ever seen. Covered in jewels, exquisitely carved out of pure gold, it was opulent beyond belief.

  "Look at his face. Look at the dead man's face," stuttered Raymonde.

  There, on the dead man's upper lip, were the remains of a tiny moustache. My eyes swept upwards, seeing the sharp lock of hair going down at an angle.

  It was Adolf Hitler!

  This was the secret hidden for so long.

  Hitler had fooled everyone. His goal had always been to return to these caves, to build an invisible fortress from which he could carry on his insane plans. He trained a double and then, at the peak of his power, went on a secret trip to Etretat, intent on grasping what he sought all those years. Instead, he disappeared, never to r
eturn. His double, Maximillian Bauer, was forced to step into his shoes permanently. From that point on, the war effort was doomed. The Nazi machine was headless; their true leader vanished.

  Leblanc was the only one who understood Hitler's master plan. He had anticipated his moves, like an expert chess master, and placed his trap exactly where he knew Hitler would end up: inside the Caves of Etretat! He had designed the perfect bait, appealing directly to Hitler's feelings of megalomania.

  The piece of cheese he used was ideal: the most fabulous crown you could imagine. Hitler would have been drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. The moment he touched that crown, it would have been too late.

  "Stop that, what do you think you are doing?" Coulter exploded at O'Flanahan, who was reaching for the crown.

  "Don't worry, Coulter. Whatever poison came out of that trap is long gone."

  "What if you're wrong? I'd wait, if I were you, at least until we've examined it a bit more."

  A glint of caution entered O'Flanahan's eyes and he carefully inched his hand away from the trigger, seeing it for what it really was. A tempting worm, dangling on a very dangerous hook.

  "So my great-grandfather succeeded in his goal. He really killed Hitler," said Raymonde.

  "Yes, he really did. This entire room was designed with one purpose in mind, to entice Hitler to sit on that throne. Once there, he would have eventually figured out there was a hidden mechanism on the chair. It would have been somewhat complex. Nothing straightforward, I'm sure. He would have found that irresistible, bejewelled crown," I explained.

  "But what killed them?" asked Ives Vallin.

  Coulter, who was examining the throne, asked if he could borrow my techno-glasses. He returned to his kneeling position, checking the throne's entire base with the glasses in zoom mode.

  "It looks like the plate below the crown is separate from the base of the throne. It could be a pressure switch of some sort. Any movement of the crown would have triggered it."

  "A pressure switch? What for?" asked Briar, joining in.

  "I don't know yet," Coulter replied.

  "Might I see those glasses for a moment?" asked Briar.

  "Here you go."

  "I'm turning them to infrared mode. I can use it to detect hollows or cracks."

  Briar walked along the raised platform. "As I suspected, there is a hollow chamber beneath this raised area. The infrared is showing a large hollow rectangle. The space measures about ten metres by seven metres square and is at least one metre deep. Leblanc must have built this huge platform, expertly camouflaged to look like a natural piece of the bedrock, using the space created to hide his poison chamber and his trap mechanism."

  "That's seventy cubic metres! How much poison did they need?" said O'Flanahan.

  "I'm sure with more investigation we will find vents hidden around this room, perhaps behind the tapestries. The poison would have been released in enormous quantities. It does seem like overkill," observed Briar.

  "Not if he intended to kill any Nazis coming to take over the abandoned fortress," I added. "He released so much poison it would take years to dissipate. Any subsequent invader would be poisoned upon arrival. That may be why we had to wait so long before our return. "

  "Makes sense," agreed Raymonde. "My great-grandfather could not take any chances. He turned the caves into a deathtrap, effectively closing them down."

  "We should think of getting back," I suggested. "We can return tomorrow and begin a more thorough investigation. There are many questions left unanswered. One thing is certain however. We have finally succeeded in solving the Great Hunt. We now know what they wanted us to discover: Maurice Leblanc stopped Adolf Hitler, and the Nazi regime with him.

  ***

  Upon returning to the original hub, Coulter remarked, "I still can't believe how fresh the air is."

  "You're right. It is surprising the machinery still works," replied Briar.

  "And that there's still power to run it. I've been wondering what type of power plant could keep working after all these years," Coulter returned.

  "Sounds to me like you're asking to visit the generator room," observed O'Flanahan.

  "Yes, I guess I am. We're so close. I'm sure that plaque over the corridor, the one with the lightning bolt, goes directly there. It would only take a few moments."

  The excitement was still running high, despite the long day and everyone agreed to visit the generators. The tunnel led to a monstrous cavern with ten huge boxes in the middle.

  "What are those? Where are the generators?" asked Jacques Vallin, looking around in consternation.

  "I don't know. I'm not sure. Let's get closer," Coulter muttered.

  "Technology's got his tongue," sniggered O'Flanahan.

  Coulter approached the dull-gray metallic cubes. They towered above us, each measuring five meters to a side. Two massive copper bars emerged from each cube and connected to thick cables. These joined together, snaking around the cubes. Coulter noticed a long control panel. "That meter. I think it measures voltage coming out of that box there. Look at the numbers. Each is putting out twenty-four volts at, uhm," he stopped, his eyes settling on a row of smaller meters. "Four thousand amperes. That can't be right," he came back to the panel. "No, it's four thousand amperes all right."

  Coulter stood back in awe. "Good gosh, this system is generating almost a million watts."

  "How is it doing that?" asked Briar.

  "I'm working on it. Give me another minute." Coulter put his hand on the nearest cube. "It's warm. Hey, does anyone have a knife?"

  Jacques Vallin, slid a sharp knife out from a leg holster and passed it, handle first, to Coulter. He used the tip and scraped a gouge in the surface of the cube. "Ah-ha! I thought so," he exclaimed, scraping the cube again, this time removing a small amount of metal. Holding it between two fingers and bending it easily, he smiled in satisfaction. "It's lead. I know what this thing is, although I don't believe it. I think it's a nuclear battery!"

  "A nuclear battery? You've got to be kidding," snapped O'Flanahan in disdain. "Those are hoaxes."

  "Actually no, not all of them are. The military has developed some working prototypes. They're not very efficient but they do work," Briar remarked "Looking at this system, they seem to work for a very long time!"

  "If they are not efficient, how can they be generating all that power?" asked Raymonde, still mystified.

  "I think it's a question of scale," Coulter answered. "Inside that thick lead box, lies a very large quantity of uranium 238. It emits alpha and beta particles which can be harnessed to generate heat. Hundreds of thousands of thermocouples are used to create electricity from the heat. It is designed as a closed system and will last as long as the radioactive material continues emitting its particles."

  "It's surprising you can figure that out so quickly, my boy. I am convinced you are right. A brilliant analysis," Briar added, with an admiring look in his eyes. "What is that noise I hear in the background, that loud hum?"

  "Well it's not coming from the nuclear batteries. They are completely silent. Perhaps there is some machinery nearby," Coulter replied.

  "It sounds like it's louder over there," mentioned Ives Vallin, pointing at a doorway.

  "Let's go check," Briar decided, heading off in that direction without waiting.

  We ran to catch up, joining him as he arrived at the door, a plaque above it showing a rotating blade of some sort.

  "Could be the fan room," suggested O'Flanahan.

  Opening the door, Briar walked along the wide tunnel. The sound was deafening. We passed a side door, barely giving it a glance. Entering the last room, we found three massive fans in a tall shaft, surrounded by an access platform. A nearby wall was covered with electrical panels, with thick cables connecting to the large fan motors.

  One of the fans had broken down but the other two were still powerful enough to move a huge volume of air. It pulled the air from somewhere below and pushed it up a shaft to the uppermost
level. From there, gravity would cause a trickling down of fresh air in the entire cavern system. Simple and clever. It was apparent they spared no expense here. The place was built to last. The noise of the fans was overwhelming and we beat a hasty retreat to the corridor.

  Retracing our footsteps, Briar stopped at the side door we had previously ignored. "I wonder what's in here." Opening the door, he stood still for a moment then moved slowly backwards. "There's another body in there," he said in a monotone.

  O'Flanahan rushed forward. "His hands aren't at his throat. He's mummified, though. Hey, look at that," he pointed at a small round hole in the man's jacket. "He was shot in the back, whoever he was,"

  O'Flanahan turned the mummified body over. "He looks familiar somehow. I know, he reminds me of you, Briar."

  Briar peered closer at the man's face. "His features are similar, now that you mention it, but this is a mummified corpse. I doubt he would have looked the same while alive."

  "One thing for sure: he had way more hair than you, pal."

  Briar was about to retort but paused, noticing a bulge in the man's dried out leather coat. "What's that?"

  O'Flanahan pulled open the cracked leather flaps of the coat. "It's a book or something. Let me pull it out." Working at the dried leather slowly, O'Flanahan removed the old book. He opened it to the first page. "Looks like a manuscript of some sort. It's written in German. Nice handwriting. Very neat," O'Flanahan randomly flipped to the middle, then to the end. "I don't believe it. Guys, this book was signed by Weissmuller. This is his manuscript."

  Who had killed him? What was he doing here? More questions without answers. One deduction was easily made, based on the way he had died. He had been killed before the poison was released in the caves.

  Raymonde, noticing another door beyond Weissmuller's body, exclaimed, "That door has no screen and has a lock. Why would that be?"

  The door was tightly sealed and none of us could open it without the key. The quick-witted Jacques Vallin had an idea. He returned to Weissmuller's body and searched his clothes. The result of his search was a Luger and two keys on a ring! "This Luger's been fired. Twice, I think. It's missing two bullets in its clip," Jacques asserted. "Here, Mr. Paul."