It had been one of a number of Pink Floyd albums that – quite inexplicably to Lowenstein – Reuters himself had played incessantly in the background of any number of interviews and forced discussions during the ten years of his imprisonment, and that fact seemed to make the words so much more poignant now as he recalled them so readily. Sam Lowenstein would’ve given anything for a gun as he lay there on that hard, uncomfortable bed… given anything for the short, sharp end to it all that was so much more instantaneous that anything so brutal and bloody as a slashed vein or a makeshift, bed-sheet noose.
He hadn’t expected to hear a second set of footsteps outside his door that early in the morning… several sets in fact as he listened to them making their way down the corridor from the far end, the echoes sharp and crisp and sounding so lonely on the cold, clinical lifelessness of the linoleum floor. He made no effort to move from his bed all the same. Save for the usual bathroom requirements of his own body, it was difficult to believe that there was anything or anyone he might find of enough interest to warrant movement from that thin, vinyl-coated foam mattress.
William ‘Wild Bill’ Donovan had accomplished a great deal during his fifty-nine years of life so far. A first-generation American born of Irish immigrant parents, he’d been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honour for service as an infantry officer in France during the First World War. As a US attorney following the war, he’d energetically enforced and prosecuted the United States’ prohibition laws despite a number of death threats and assassination attempts that did nothing to deter him from his work.
Following extensive official travel and experience in Europe and around the world, Donovan had been approached by President Roosevelt during 1941 to create the Office of Strategic Services, an exponentially-expanding, all-encompassing intelligence service that in Realtime would eventually become the renowned Central Intelligence Agency.
A strong and influential behind-the-scenes figure in American politics and the intelligence community of the time, he was a tough, strong-willed individual who never doubted the courage of his own convictions in the performance of his duties. A hard task-master, he gave one hundred per cent to any endeavour in which he was involved and expected no less from others around and below him. He was a man who believed very much in personality, and was an excellent judge of character, often prone to spontaneous offers of OSS recruitment to anyone he deemed a worthwhile asset.
In his late fifties and of average height, he was dressed in well-cut suit pants and jacket, his grey hair combed to either side of a high forehead. A prominent nose and generally open, smiling face did much to conceal ice-blue eyes that could on occasion deliver and a piercing, steely gaze. Donovan was relatively confident he was looking at an exceptional asset right at that moment as he opened the door to Lowenstein’s room and stepped inside, accompanied at a discreet distance by a pistol-armed marine who immediately moved across to stand in a far corner, silent and stony faced.
“Doctor Lowenstein,” Donovan began in a broad, welcoming tone. “I must apologise it’s taken so long to get in to see you. My name’s Bill Donovan; I’m…”
“The head of the Office of Strategic Services, yeah…” Lowenstein cut in with sharp disinterest, making no effort whatsoever to even look at his visitor. “I know who you are, ‘Wild Bill’… learned all about you in a history class once, a long time ago.”
“Then we’re even, I guess, doctor, cause I happen to know an awful lot about you, too,” Donovan countered quickly, making sure he didn’t lose either momentum or initiative. He’d picked up the underlying aggression in the man’s voice, and he’d read enough reports of the circumstances regarding Lowenstein’s recovery to be well aware of the reasons behind the attitude he was displaying. “Please call me Bill…” he added, moving slowly across to the small wooden table and chair at the end of the bed and taking a seat. “May I call you ‘Sam’?”
“I don’t give a shit what you call me,” Lowenstein growled angrily, rolling over to face the wall and turn his back to the others in the room. . “I’ve been in tougher prisons that this with tougher fucks than you to deal with. Nazis or Yanks, makes no difference to me: I’m still ‘The Jew’ behind bars.”
“Sam, this is no prison,” Donovan ventured evenly, quickly gesturing to the marine to stand down as the sergeant took an aggressive step forward in reaction to Lowenstein’s insults. “You’ve been kept here for your own safety, pending me finding an opportunity to speak with you.”
“Oh, so I can just throw open the doors anytime I want and just run off into the hills with a song in my heart like the fucking Von Trapp family, can I?” Lowenstein snarled, rolling back over and sitting up as he actually looked at Donovan for the first time. “You think us Jews can’t tell a prison when we see one? Hitler sent six million of us to the gas chambers, and anti-Semitic in Washington cunts like you did nothing to help, even though you all knew damn well what was going on. I see you with your hand on your gun, arsehole,” he added with venom, directing that at the marine as the man took another step forward, clearly fuming and ready to act. “You think I’m frightened of you? Go ahead: make my fucking day! Put a bullet in me if you’ve the balls to try, and maybe I’ll thank you afterward, if I last long enough.”
“Nobody’s shooting anybody today, Goddamnit!” Donovan shouted, again steadying his escort with a raised hand as he sprang to his feet once more and advanced on Lowenstein himself. “Not unless I say so first, anyway. Lowenstein, I know why you’re pissed off with the world. I read the God-damned reports about what happened there at Lifford, and far as I can see, you’ve got a damn fine reason to feel the way you do…” He moved between both men as a precautionary measure, a halting palm raised in the direction of either as he kept his eyes trained directly on Lowenstein, matching the intensity of his enraged stare. “The real question you need to ask yourself right now, fella, is what you’re gonna do about that?”
“What the fuck can I do?” Sam shouted, the intensity equal parts anger and tears as several other marines gathered outside the door, watching proceedings through an observation slot set into it at eye level. I shouldn’t even exist! They killed them… killed them both…! I’m not a soldier… not a killer…! I was a scientist...!”
The rage subsided as quickly as it had come, and he found it was difficult to maintain that level of intensity due to the lack of regular food intake over the previous weeks. Sagging visibly, he slumped back onto the bed and hunkered in the corner, clutching up a pillow as if it might provide some solace or protection.
“What can I do…?” He whispered again, the question clearly rhetoric as he stared off into nothingness in the middle of the room and the crowd outside began to dissipate once more.
“Son,” Wild Bill began slowly, ignoring the fact that they were both technically of a similar age. “You got one hell of a lot of people wanting to talk to you. Fact is, we all know exactly who you are and where you came from…” he added, that small piece of information at least surprising Lowenstein as Donovan retook his seat on the chair by the foot of the bed. “We were hopin’ to have a chance to chat with you before the rest of the Allies found out who you were, but it appears the cat’s already out of the bag on that one and the Aussies and the Limeys are all clamouring for us to hand you over to them… ‘specially this group called Hindsight.”
“I know who they are, and I know what they want, too…” Lowenstein observed in a hollow tone.
“So do we,” Donovan agreed, nodding, “but what they want doesn’t really help you much does it…? Not anymore…”
“What does that mean?” Lowenstein demanded wearily, actually becoming interested in the conversation for the first time.
“Well, we figure these Hindsight guys want a date from you… the date the Nazi group called New Eagles arrived in the past. That about sum up what you’re thinking?”
“How could you know this…?”
“We got some of the basics of why Hindsight is here fro
m the unit itself, and the rest we’ve picked up by various means,” Donovan answered with a shrug. “It takes around twenty-four hours for changes to the past to take effect… a real short time in which to try to work up effective countermeasures. We have it on good authority that it becomes far easier to change events as you go further back. Stands to reason: only way to put things back the way they were is to take out the bad guys before they make contact, and if you can’t do that before they leave for whatever reason, the only logical option that remains is to intercept them in the past, before they can make contact.”
“That’s oversimplifying things by a level you couldn’t possibly comprehend,” Lowenstein pointed out, becoming drawn into the conversation by his instinctive scientific curiosity in spite of his own anger and despair.
“Of course it is,” Donovan agreed without hesitation. “We’re not experts.” He paused for a moment in order to make a point. “You are however… an expert in an awful lot of fields we could really use help with.”
“The way you ask for help is a lot nicer that the Nazis, but in the end, there’s still bars on the windows…”
“I’ve already told you we can fix that. The only question for you is where you go afterward.”
“And why should I want to work for you rather than the British?” Lowenstein asked cynically, snorting with soft derision. “More to the point, why wouldn’t I want to go straight to Hindsight with everything I know? In this reality, the Nazis may exterminate all of my people in Europe… tens of millions before they’re done. I’m not happy they killed six million in the first place, and I can’t do anything about that, but if I help you, the Nazis go on the murder so many more… what possible reason could I have to not give Hindsight that date?”
“And do you know?” That question was asked with a level of intensity that interested the scientist greatly. “The date, I mean…”
“Of course, I do… do you think I’m stupid?” He caught the faint flicker of fear in Donovan’s eyes then and surprise flowed across Lowenstein’s face as a new idea suddenly occurred to him. “You’re afraid, aren’t you…!” He exclaimed, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “You’re terrified that if I give Hindsight the date and they complete their mission, all of you will somehow cease to exist!”
“Hindsight keep telling us that history will be reset to how it was before… that everything will be what they call ‘back to normal’…” the head of the OSS offered, discomfort clear in his tone. “But we only have their word for that, and no way to prove what they say. How do we really know that everything we have – everything we are – isn’t suddenly just going to cease to exist, just like that…?” He snapped his fingers at the same time to emphasise the point. “How can we be certain?”
“You can’t…” Lowenstein replied honestly, not caring in the slightest. “I can’t promise you that, and neither can Hindsight. We can theorise all we like about alternate realities, divergent timelines, parallel universes… there are as many theories in my time as there are scientists to wonder about them, but the truth is that no one has ever been in a position to prove what actually happens, or even if a diverted timeline can actually be reset to its original course and, if it can, what actually happens to the alternate timeline that was created the begin with.”
“So maybe we cease to exist after all?”
“Not technically… if the original timeline were restored, then you and everyone else who lived through it is also returned in situ…” Lowenstein gave a thin, mirthless smile. “Does that mean that you standing before me right now still exists however…? Well, that is a little more difficult to work out, but my opinion… personally…? I suspect not.” He gave an exaggerated shrug, giving another snort of cynical derision. “How this affects me however is another matter entirely, as I couldn’t care less about any of it.”
“You’re not a prisoner here, doctor,” Donovan repeated, making a good show of concealing the shudder that was currently rippling through his body. “As I’ve already said, you’ll shortly be allowed to leave here of your own volition, should you chose to do so. The Australian and British governments are already asking after you – I’ve no doubt either would be happy to welcome you with open arms.”
Donovan paused for a moment and smiled faintly at the sneer of disgust that flickered across the scientist’s face at that moment.
“If you wish to leave with either nation’s representatives when the time comes, we’ll be happy to assist you, however I am hoping to convince you to stay in the United States and assist America with our scientific and military research programs.”
Lowenstein actually laughed out loud, he found the suggestion so ludicrous.
“And why the fuck would I do that…?”
Donovan paused for effect once more, having finally brought the conversation to the point he’d originally intended all along.
“Because, Sam, all Hindsight wants to do is put the world back the way they want it,” he began, keeping exactly the right amount disdain and cynicism in his tone. “That helps them well enough, but it does little for anyone else on this side of the Pacific: there’s nothing they could possibly offer that could make up for what’s happened to you and your family last month. Here in the United States however, we can offer you something that they will not…”
“Which is…?” Lowenstein demanded sceptically, asking the proverbial sixty-four dollar question.
“Revenge, Sam… revenge on those who’ve destroyed your life – right here, right now – in whatever form you choose to exact.”
As those words sunk in, a light arose in Samuel Lowenstein’s eyes that had been gone for a long time… a light that burned with the promise of vengeance.
“The Brits – undoubtedly with Hindsight’s help – have been providing the United States with a huge range of advanced technology and designs, from fighter aircraft to tanks and even new designs for a more modern aircraft carrier,” Donovan continued, forging on in a rush, now that he saw he could seal the deal. “The one area they’ve not been forthcoming in has been nuclear research. I believe you yourself were a nuclear physicist in your era, so I’ve no doubt our top secret operation at Los Alamos, New Mexico is old history to you. Well right now, that operation is at least three years behind similar programs both in Germany and Australia.
“Reports intercepted by our agents in Ireland – one of which came from you – indicate the Nazis have already detonated their first atomic device.” He continued with a scowl as Lowenstein silently nodded in agreement. “Further reports from observers we have in Australia have now advised that it’s likely they too successfully tested their first bomb over there a few weeks ago, in the middle of some Goddamn desert. The United States is the greatest industrial power on the face of the earth, and with the military build-up we’re currently undertaking, we’ll also soon be the greatest military power. Only trouble is, none of that will mean a damned thing if we can’t protect ourselves from bombs that can destroy entire cities in one blast. We must be able to defend ourselves, and so far the Brits have refused to hand over any of their research regarding atomic weapon design or production.”
“And you want me to balance the scales?” Lowenstein asked cryptically, ideas that were dark and long-forgotten suddenly bubbling up from his subconscious and bursting into life at the forefront of his thoughts. “You think I can redress this imbalance and single-handedly place America at the top of the food chain?”
“That’s about the size of it,” Donovan answered honestly, seeing no point in lying about the obvious.
“And a promise of revenge is what you offer? That simple?”
“Hindsight will take the information you give them and destroy everything we’re working toward,” the head of the OSS explained darkly, fear in his voice once more. “With their advanced knowledge of history and technology, we could make the United States and her allies invulnerable to attack… we could destroy the Nazis and the Japs and everything they stand for
. We could liberate the whole world…!”
“Tell that to the Vietnamese… or the Iraqis…”Lowenstein muttered to himself with a snort, his tone dripping with cynicism. “You’re not the first powerful nation to think like that,” he pointed out coldly, sliding back on his mattress until his back was against the wall, “and you’re probably not going to be the last.” He shrugged again. “Why should I even want revenge like this…? If I give Hindsight the date, they go back and stop this ever happening… how much greater could that vengeance be? What makes you think I want revenge in this life?”
“Because I am a damn fine judge of character,” Donovan answered without hesitation, drawing an evil grin in response. “Because you don’t just want to watch Hindsight fly off into the Goddamn sunset and wonder if you’re gonna cease to exist in a few minutes. Because you’re human, and you want to see the Nazis burn for what they’ve done.”
“And you’ll give me that revenge… really…?”
“Well, that depends on you, doctor,” he pointed out, delivering his coup de grâce. “The Nazis have atom bombs now, so we’re gonna have to be careful about it, but I’ve got confidence a resourceful man like you would be able to find a way around all that.”
Samuel Lowenstein stared long and hard at the OSS Director, neither flinching from the other’s gaze as he considered everything the man had said. Of course, it was all for reasons that were completely self-serving, however every point Donovan had raised was a valid one nevertheless and it was undoubtedly true that if Hindsight were given the exact date and time of the New Eagles’ arrival in 1933, they’d not waste a moment setting up an attempt to ‘put things right’. And of course, what Donovan had said also cut right to the core of that: what did any of that mean to him, when everything he’d held dear in that era had been so brutally taken from him?
The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3) Page 40