Getting up from behind his desk, Kiefer walked quickly to stand in front of his uneasy students. Closing the door, Brandt proceeded methodically until he was standing to the left, and slightly in front of, the headmaster. The hardened soles of his black boots clacked loudly against old wooden floorboards in the otherwise silent room.
Feigning a comforting smile, Kiefer addressed the bewildered students, their eyes transfixed on his own. “Gentlemen, we have a great honor for you this day,” he said, raising his voice convincingly. “Reichs-Führer Himmler’s personal assistant, Herr Brandt, has come to pay you each a special visit in recognition of your exceptional academic performance!” He doubted that recognition was truly the reason for the stolid man’s visit, but could find no other words to prepare his students for what may lie ahead.
“Please, call me Rudolf,” said Brandt mildly as his character in front of the boys appeared to lighten. Taking another step forward and slightly to the right, he adeptly positioned himself between Kiefer and his students. “We are all friends here,” he added while spreading a weak, unpracticed smile across his thin lips.
Dieter was first to break free from the initial shock of being escorted to the headmaster’s office by an armed SS officer. “Sir, thank you for this kind honor. I was not aware that any acknowledgments were being offered until graduation,” he said, extending a respectful handshake.
“I am afraid that Headmaster Waechter spoke out of turn,” said Brandt with an annoyed glance at Kiefer. With bony fingers, he grasped Dieter’s hand. “What I have to offer is an opportunity like nothing this or any school could ever dream to give you.” His gaze shifted slowly between Dieter and Niclas. “I present the chance to advance German understanding of human biology and disease far beyond what is currently known.” His eyes widened briefly as he released his stony grip of Dieter’s hand.
Blue eyes flashed with interest as Niclas watched his future unfolding in front of him. “Are you offering us employment following graduation?” he asked hopefully. The mere suggestion of working in a well-funded government facility brought a smile to his face.
“You misunderstand, my dear boy,” said Brandt, placing a gloved hand on Niclas’s shoulder. “Your graduation is today. There is nothing more for you to learn in this place.” From the corner of his eye he shot a demeaning glance aimed directly at Kiefer. “I offer you access to the most advanced scientific equipment in the world, and the freedom to use it to its full potential.” With as much animation as his gaunt face could marshal, he looked up as if seeing the sky through the ceiling. “You will train under the world’s most renowned scientific minds, and surpass them all for the glory of the Führer!” His voice swelled to a crescendo as he smacked his clenched right hand loudly into the palm of his left.
In stunned silence, Niclas and Dieter stared at one another. Less than twenty minutes ago they were sitting at a lab table recreating an experiment from one of their many chemistry texts, and now they were being offered the chance to create instead of copy.
His own thoughts overwhelmed, Kiefer could only imagine what his young students were feeling at this moment. “Perhaps the boys require some time to consider this generous offer?”
“My car leaves in one hour,” replied the impatient official sternly. “Germany’s future awaits nothing and neither shall I.”
The promise of new and meaningful discoveries became too much for Niclas to resist. He stepped forward, as words alone were inadequate in showing the magnitude of his interest. “I will go with you!” There was absolutely no doubt in his voice.
Caught off guard by the impulsiveness of his friend’s response, Dieter glanced anxiously at Niclas and then at Brandt. “Would we be allowed to work for the same places?” Uncertain of what to do, he tried to find a tipping point for his decision.
“I will see to it myself,” Brandt assured with a nod.
Putting a hand on Niclas’s shoulder, he smiled at his exuberant friend. “Then I will come along as well.”
“It is decided then. Gather one suitcase each and come to the front of the school in one hour,” instructed Brandt. His head tilted slightly as he gestured toward the office door.
Without further hesitation, Niclas and Dieter rushed to the heavy wooden door, grabbing the handle together and pulling it open. Almost as one, they walked hurriedly away to retrieve their belongings and say a few hasty goodbyes, if time would allow.
With the sound of the boys’ harried footsteps fading into the distance, Headmaster Kiefer took a deep breath and let it out slowly, gathering the courage to speak. He wavered, voice paralyzed, as Brandt slowly turned and looked icily into his eyes.
“It would seem to have something to say, Headmaster,” observed Rudolf, the calm of his voice betraying the pure menace of his glare.
“You told me that my student may be asked to work in service of the Country and the Führer’s war effort, but you said nothing of the war when they were standing before you.” Kiefer’s resolve hardened noticeably as concern for his students overpowered the fear of being punished for perceived insolence.
Pursing his lips, Brandt was intrigued by the man’s unanticipated display of mettle. “There is no need to fill young minds with politics, Headmaster.” Considering his vaulted military status, his words seemed particularly ironic. “The young do what they are told, it does not matter what belief they choose to motivate themselves with. At least, not yet,” he said with an ominous grin. “I must take my leave. Heil Hitler, Headmaster.” Holding his right arm out rigidly at a forty-five-degree angle and snapping his heels together sharply.
Kiefer reflexively mimicked the arm gesture but decided to forgo the heel click. He watched as Brandt turned and walked briskly out of the office with his guards. Closing the office door, the headmaster took a deep breath and moved to stand in front of the old desk. He looked down and picked up a small plaque that had been knocked face down when the tea service had been set upon the desk’s crowded surface. Picking it up, he turned it over to read the familiar inscription carved into the dull bronze faceplate. “Sapere Aude,” he spoke softly in his best Latin. “Dare to discern,” he translated to himself. Knowing Niclas and Dieter to be highly intelligent young men, he hoped that their kindness would be the thing that guided them most.
To know when to follow where life leads or when to grab the reins was never an easy decision. For the sakes of these two young men, he prayed they would know when the time came.
Chapter 24
Absolutes
Naklo, German Occupied Poland
Winter, 1944
PALE LIGHT EMANATING from the town of Naklo reflected peacefully across the icy water flowing slowly through Bydgoski Canal. Snowflakes fell gently from the evening sky, disappearing instantly as it reached the water’s dark surface. The main road leading out of the city lay covered with snow, tainted grey by the exhaust of frequent military traffic. Clouds of vapor could be seen rising like ghosts escaping from the mouths of German soldiers as they paced back and forth slowly to keep watch and stay warm. The duty of these men was not to watch over Naklo itself, but to safeguard a nearby Nazi research facility located just south of the occupied town.
The outward appearance of the research facility was difficult to distinguish from the uninspired wooden buildings used as barracks for the dozens of soldiers and researchers who inhabited the secretive base. In stark contrast to its exterior, the interior of the structure contained some of the most advanced scientific equipment in the world, as well as several of the greatest analytical minds Germany had to offer. Niclas Kappel and Dieter Mueller were among the most prized of these minds.
After more than three years of working together, Niclas and Dieter were able to perform complex experimental tasks with as little effort as most people demonstrate when tying their shoes. Niclas tended to work feverishly, as if the fate of the world would rise or fall with the results of his next experiment. He would have often forgotten to eat meals or go back to the barracks f
or rest had it not been for Dieter’s persistent reminders. Outside of the friend he arrived with from school, Niclas had very little interest in socializing with the other researchers. A strong desire to learn had been within him since childhood and he saw no reason why that should ever change.
“Will you fetch sample TP–2231 from the centrifuge for me, Dieter?” asked Niclas as he prepared a blank slide and coverslip.
Already in hand, Dieter carefully handed the test tube over. “I have it right here, Nicky.”
Taking the vial carefully, Niclas held it aloft and studied it in the bright light of the lab. “This sample appears to have separated out quite well compared to the last few.”
Dieter nodded in agreement and handed him a long pipette. “I was told that doctors Kluge and Trommler were running some kind of high voltage experiments earlier, and it resulted in a power drain that was impacting the revolution speed of the centrifuge.”
Taking the pipette, which was nothing more than a large eyedropper, Niclas removed a small amount of fluid from the test tube and transferred it to the empty glass slide. “Which one is Trommler again?” he asked, putting the slide cover in place. Keeping the freshly prepared slid steady, he placed it onto the stage of the state-of-the-art transmission electron microscope.
“Trommler has been working just down the hall for nearly three months! You really need to look up from your work now and then, my friend,” teased Dieter.
Gently tapping the side of the microscope, he peered into the eyepiece. “Well, as long as he doesn’t interfere with the power to Gretta here, I see no reason to have words with him at all.”
Shaking his head, Dieter brushed dark hair away from his eyes as he waited for Niclas to finish scrutinizing the newest sample. He knew better than to interrupt his longtime lab partner when he was gazing into Gretta’s enchanting mechanical eyes.
After several seconds, Niclas stood up straight and rubbed his lower back through his lab coat. “Gram-negative short bacillus,” he said with a disheartened sigh.
“What, again?” asked Dieter with a disturbed look. He looked into the eyepiece himself and confirmed his colleague’s findings. “There must be one hell of an outbreak going on, considering how many samples like this we’ve processed over the last several months.”
Retrieving a notebook that had been resting on a nearby table, Niclas listed the results within. “They must be bringing specimens in from all over the area,” he suggested, trying to reason it out. “If any singular region had a typhus outbreak of this magnitude, it would be a catastrophe. I’m sure the guards would have mentioned it.”
“I would think so, too, but it’s hard to tell one disaster from another in times of war,” said Dieter, breathing a sigh as he shook his head. “I doubt the Propaganda Minister would allow the news to spread anyway.”
Surprised at his friend’s assertion, Niclas preferred to believe that others did their part, just as he did his. To assume wrong-doing in others, was to admit it within yourself. “What would be the point of hiding such information from the public? There are precautions to be taken against infection that could save lives even without a cure.”
“All I know is that there seem to be many secrets being kept that don’t appear to have anything to do with curing diseases,” said Dieter quietly, his eyes shifting quickly toward the door and then back to Niclas. He leaned closer to his friend. “We’re scientists trying to find treatments for typhoid and malaria, not military strategists or weapon designers. So, help me to understand why the guards spend their time looking into the courtyard instead of outside where the enemy could approach from?”
Lowering his voice, he spoke carefully through clenched teeth. “Why hasn’t anyone been allowed to travel, or even call home in the last year?”
Obviously not sharing the same concern, Niclas put a hand on his worried friend’s shoulder. “I think you’re far too suspicious for your own good, my friend. War is all around us. Everyone is just being overly cautious right now, you’ll see.”
Taking a deep breath, he nodded and returned a light smile. “Perhaps you’re right, Nicky, but I think you’re much too trusting most of the time,” he warned, shaking a finger at him before retrieving the latest sample from the centrifuge. He labeled the test tube to indicate that it contained yet another strain of typhoid and put it into cold storage. Unlike his accepting companion, Dieter was uncomfortable with accepting things at face value. Using reflections in the glass of the refrigerated storage cabinet to keep watch on the door behind him, he whispered just loud enough for Niclas to hear. “This morning I asked one of the guards on the road to Naklo where an eastbound transport truck was heading. He told me to mind my own business and ordered me away.”
Although indifferent to his assertions, Niclas still found himself mimicking his wary friend’s low tones. “He was just doing his job, Dieter. You would be irritable too if you were made to stand out in the cold all day and night,” he argued in his typical logical fashion.
Replaying the moment in his mind, Dieter felt tightness rising in his throat. “It was more than that. I touched a nerve when I asked where that transport was headed,” As he labored to breathe, the glass of the storage cabinet began to over. Wiping the condensation away with his sleeve, he turned back toward Niclas. “Like I said, there are just too many secrets in this place.”
Raising his voice to a more conversational level, Niclas’s patience with Dieter’s untrusting nature began to wear thin. A scientist at heart, he admonished his friend’s growing paranoia. “Personally, I need to have at least some tangible evidence in my corner before I start venturing hypotheses.”
Sighing heavily, Dieter also grew tired of the perpetual stalemate. “How many times have we had this conversation, Nicky?” he said, his voice rasping as he continued to whisper. “Everything in the world doesn’t boil down to simple facts and pure logic.” Pointing to the many open notebooks strewn about the surface of a nearby research table, he tried to break through his workmate’s rigid mindset. “There are ways of reasoning that fall well outside of a research manual.”
“Not for me, Dieter,” said Niclas, shaking his head dismissively. “Science is pure. If there is something corrupt going on, it has nothing to do with us or the science we are conducting. We’re trying to cure diseases, and there can be nothing wrong with that,” he said, raising his chin with conviction.
“There you go again, Niclas, speaking in absolutes,” said Dieter, his eyes narrowing as he looked with concern at his stubborn friend. “Even a scientist should know that some things are not as they seem, despite the facts before us. Be careful that you’re not the one blinded by simple answers in a complex equation.” He moved toward the lab door and opened it. “I’m going to get some supper. Would you like me to bring something back?” he asked, abruptly ending the previous conversation so that Niclas would not be able to get in his typical last word.
“Nein, I want to run a few more samples before turning in for the evening. Thank you,” he said cordially, happy to let the conversation drop without exchanging another tiresome volley. Turning back to his task, he dutifully prepared another sample for the centrifuge.
Pausing for a moment, Dieter watched the familiar sight of Niclas tirelessly working as if driven by nothing more than the desire to find an answer to the next mystery placed before him. “If you want to join me, a transport will be taking a group of us to a pub in Naklo this evening. If not, I’ll see you in the morning, Nicky,” he offered flatly. Knowing what the answer would be, he decided not to wait. Closing the lab door behind him, he departed down the long, dark corridor. He looked toward the door and frowned, considering the troubling conversation he’d just had with his friend.
Since childhood, he believed that every logical question had an equally logical answer. He still trusted in that notion and could see no reason to change his approach now. There was still simply too much work to do for him to stop and conjure baseless trivialities. There were discoveri
es to be made, answers to be revealed, and he was not going to find them in a pub with Dieter. No, it was far better to stay in the lab and work, than to try to make sense of the chaotic world outside.
***
A lone guard made rounds with a heavy flashlight, checking each interior door to ensure they remained secure. The building was dark but for one common exception, as the sound of glass test tubes clacking together resonated from inside one of the labs. Working well past midnight, Niclas finally finished putting the last of the tissue samples away for the evening when Dieter suddenly came rushing into the lab, closed the door, and quickly pulled the shade.
“What’s wrong, Dieter? Did you put axle grease on Doctor Dalberg’s eyepiece again?” he asked with a laugh, suspecting his friend had too much ale at the pub again.
“Lower your voice, Nicky, I need to show you something,” whispered Dieter with wild panic in his eyes.
Taking a moment to secure the glass door of the storage cooler, Niclas looked at his friend with concern. “What’s happened?”
Taking a deep breath, Dieter quickly turned his head to either side as if expecting to find someone hiding in the darkened corners of the lab. “I was on my way to supper when I passed Medical Chief Wirths’s office and saw that the door had been left open. I reached to close the door when I noticed a file sitting on his desk.” Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a file bearing the stylized lightning bolt runes of the SS.
Tired eyes widened in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?” Niclas exclaimed with a harsh whisper as he hurried to the door and locked it. “You’ll be hanged for treason. You must return it immediately, before anyone notices!” Reaching to take the file from the hand of his trembling friend, he considered running it back to the office himself.
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