The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3)

by Charles S. Jackson

  “But – but there was a secondary mechanism, you see…” he continued, glancing up once more and locking Ritter with pleading eyes as if begging for forgiveness. “A timing mechanism of the finest Swiss design, installed specifically to allow for flexibility in deployment…”

  “Kurt, no…” Ritter groaned softly in denial, unable to conceive of what his CO was trying to say.

  “Three days, Mein Gott… three days…! That was all I had, you understand? I couldn’t let these schwein have the device: it would be disaster! So I set the timer… set it for noon on the third day… knowing beyond doubt that we would be well and gone long before the vile thing went off, taking every one of these stinking little monkeys with it!”

  “And this morning I thought perhaps that Albert was insane!” Ritter moaned, horrified by the confession he’d just heard. “Are you completely mad? You must call that major back! Tell them what has happened. Lie to them again if you must! Whatever needs to be done that they allow you back onto that ship to disarm that bloody bomb!”

  “I cannot…”

  “You are insane…!” Ritter snarled, losing any respect for rank or status as images of his wife and family flashed through his mind, his subconscious suggesting that his last memories of them would be exactly that. “This is not the time for heroics! Sacrificing all of us will do nothing for Germany or your beloved bloody Führer…!”

  “Are you deaf…? I cannot…!” Reuters spat in return, guilt fuelling a belated anger now. “There was a key… a key to open the casing… to set the timer. It’s gone… gone… I – I threw it away…”

  “Then we break it open!” Ritter declared, desperately clutching at any straw now as he rose to his feet, palms laid out in supplication. “Break open the casing and shut it down!”

  “Failsafes…” Reuters croaked, his voice a hollow, mirthless laugh as he shook his head. “Anti-tamper devices, set up to prevent exactly this. Make any attempt to break it open, and none of us will feel a damned thing!”

  “You old fool…!” Ritter hissed with venom, disgust seeping from every syllable as tears formed at the corners of his eyes. “I have a wife… a family, damn you…!”

  “And they will be cared for…” Reuters shrugged, his words dripping with hopeless cynicism. “They will be revered: the widow and orphaned sons of a hero of the Greater Reich…”

  “You had no right…!” Ritter snarled, leaning forward and clutching a handful of Reuters’ tunic. With strength he never imagined he possessed, the pilot hauled the old man out of his chair and pulled his face in against his own until they were just inches apart. “I should kill you for this!”

  “You could do that…” Reuters shrugged again. “...but why bother? We’re dead already: what difference would it make?”

  They stared at each other for a long time, the pilot searching for something in the other man’s eyes that suggested anything other than cold resignation.

  “Scheisse…!” Ritter spat eventually, releasing his CO and turning his back in disgust as Reuters slumped back into his chair.

  “We should tell Albert…” Reuters muttered, half to himself. “It’s only fair he should know.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” Ritter snapped sharply as he moved to stand at the window, staring out with almost lustful eyes at the flying boat in the distance.

  “Do you think to protect him in his last hours?”

  “No, damn you: I will not tell him because I intend to do whatever it takes to get myself, him and even you off this fucking island before noon tomorrow. We’ll even take the woman with us if we have to, rather than have her fall into the wrong hands.”

  “This is pointless…”

  “I can fly that crate well enough,” Ritter growled darkly. “We just need to get aboard her.”

  “Which will be impossible…” Reuters observed, referring to the armed guards constantly on watch at the wharf itself. “You’ll be dead before you get within twenty metres of that bloody plane!”

  “We’re dead already, remember…?” Ritter pointed out bitterly without turning around, using the man’s own words against him. “What difference does it make?”

  Neue Reichskanzlei

  Berlin, Grossdeutschland

  Dawn had barely risen over Berlin, the sun struggling to break through a thickening layer of sullen grey cloud as a large, black Mercedes turned off Wilhelmstrasse, passing through the great gates of the Chancellery and entering the grand courtyard that led to the main entrance. The winter morning air was crisp and biting as the driver quickly climbed out and moved to open the rear door, breath whirling in clouds about his head. He stood back, drawing the door with him to allow his passenger passage.

  Klaus Kaiser Eckhart was a fit man in his late fifties. Tall and broad-shouldered, he ran two kilometres every morning, pumped weights every second evening, and maintained a careful, healthy diet. He was also an exceptionally vain man: a man who refused to wear glasses despite knowing full well his eyesight was poor, and who wore a hat whenever possible to hide his thinning grey hair and the almost-imaginary bald spot that he, in his darkest, most private hours, knew beyond doubt existed in spite of every protestation to the contrary from his twenty-seven-year-old personal assistant/mistress.

  Eckhart should have been in the middle of his run right at that moment, and his subconscious was already clamouring at him from the dark depths at the back of his mind in complaint over the usual morning adrenalin and endorphins of which his body had been rather rudely deprived. An incredibly wealthy man in his own right, he was generally accustomed to getting his own way, and such a disruption to his regular, daily schedule would’ve been looked upon severely under normal circumstances. Klaus Eckhart had killed men for far less in his younger years… with his own hands on occasion.

  These weren’t normal circumstances however, and all he could do in this particular situation was take a deep breath, swallow his mounting nervousness as best he could, and remind himself of his own courage and almost limitless self-belief as he mounted the stairs leading up to a pair of huge double doors measuring seventeen feet tall. Those doors opened onto a large hall adorned with mosaic, and he was ceremonially ushered inside by SS-uniformed civilian staff who welcomed him with exactly the correct combination of diplomatic bluster and precise, Germanic formality.

  Designed by Albert Speer himself and rumoured to have cost in excess of 90 million Reichsmark, the New Reich Chancellery was a truly huge and imposing structure, intended to replace the original Reichskanzlei building, which Hitler had described as fit for a ‘soap company’ but not suitable as the headquarters of the Greater German Reich. Four thousand labourers had toiled on round-the-clock shifts through the whole of 1939 to finish the outer shell of the grand building on time, ultimately completing the work just 48 hours ahead of the Führer’s 12-month deadline, although the actual interior had not been finalised until midway into 1942.

  Eckhart was led out of the mosaic-clad entrance hall, through a large, round room with a high-domed ceiling, and then into a long, ornately-decorated gallery in which Hitler himself waited patiently, standing to one side and deep in conversation with Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler. Both wore their usual workaday uniforms – of brown, in the Chancellor’s case, and SS black for Himmler.

  As Eckhart approached with his flunkey entourage in tow, the pair ended their discussion and both turned simultaneously in his direction, each bathing him in the stark glare of an expectant gaze. Even for man of Eckhart’s dark capabilities, it was enough to send a faint stab of sudden fear shuddering through him.

  “Herr Eckhart… how kind of you to join us at such short notice,” The Führer declared, his tone as lacking in warmth as the thin, mirthless smile that managed to scurry momentarily across his lips. “You know the Reichsführer, I trust…?”

  “Of course, Mein Führer… heil…!” He almost stammered, snapping to rigid attention and giving the expected Nazi salute.

  “Excellent,” Hitler r
esponded with a nod, understandably not seeing any need to also come to attention as he returned the salute. “Herr Himmler is here on… other matters…” he completely avoided explaining “…however he’s also interested in the matter I wish to discuss with you, this morning. I understand this is normally your time for exercise: I hope we’ve not disrupted your day unduly.”

  “Of – of course not, Mein Führer…” Eckhart stammered weakly, not at all sure where the discussion was going at this point and not at all happy about that fact. “I am always at your disposal, whatever the time of day or night. It is my honour to assist you in any way I can.”

  “Your loyalty to me and to Deutschland has always been clear, Herr Eckhart… it is for this reason I have called on you this morning: for your advice in these difficult times…”

  Advice…? The word burned into Eckhart’s mind the moment it had issued from the Chancellor’s lips. With all that had happened in the last six months – with everything that happened in the last few days – it was inconceivable that the man could want anything from him… anything, at least, that was likely to provide any safety or solace for Klaus Kaiser Eckhart.

  “Er… advice, Mein Führer…?” He managed eventually. “I’m yours to command, of course, however I am nothing more than a businessman… I’m not sure what I could possibly…”

  “Walk with us…” The Führer commanded mildly, turning without waiting for a response and walking slowly away, with Eckhart forced to leap forward to catch up, falling in slightly to the Führer’s rear and to his left as Himmler veered off to one side, shadowing the pair but clearly intending to remain out of the conversation for the time being. That there was a pistol at the Reichsführer’s belt hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Eckhart didn’t doubt that the man knew how to use it, his diminutive stature notwithstanding. There was also the certainty that there would be any number of armed bodyguards lurking nearby out of sight, all ready to gun him down with just one word from Hitler.

  Surely, I would be dead already if that was their aim…? He reasoned silently with himself, desperately trying to assure himself of his own longevity.

  Their footsteps echoed loudly as they walked, filling the emptiness of that grand, open space as they moved across the immaculately-polished floor. Almost five hundred feet long, the gallery itself had been a particularly favoured part of the design for the Chancellor, who would often remark gleefully that it was twice the length of the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles, and that the New Chancellery was a fine example of the strength and greatness of the German Reich.

  “It’s important for a man to exercise!” Hitler announced loudly, nodding at Himmler as if extolling its benefits to the Reichsführer. “I, myself enjoy many long walks at Berchtesgaden. A man should be fit and clean in body and mind…” he added, suddenly fixing Eckhart with a sharp, almost skewering stare. “Don’t you agree, Mein Herr…?”

  “Of – of course… undoubtedly, Mein Führer…” he blurted nervously. “No doubt about it at all…”

  “You are much more than simple ‘businessman’, Herr Eckhart…” Hitler pointed out, casting a glance his way with a raised eyebrow, before stating bluntly: “Modesty is a sign of weakness… it serves no purpose. You are one of the Direktors…” he added, not varying his pace for a moment. “You were one of those responsible for bringing me Reichsmarschall Reuters… one of those who handed us this historic victory in Europe!”

  “I – I played a small part, Mein Führer,” he conceded awkwardly.

  “I do not believe that for a moment,” Hitler dismissed immediately. “You have come from the future, have you not… like the others?” He paused for a moment then, halting and turning to address Eckhart directly. “I know we have not met before personally, however I previously had an excellent working relationship with Oskar Zeigler, and after his unfortunate demise, with Herr Hegel also. Now that he too has met an unseemly end, it occurs to me that perhaps there is a vacuum that requires filling.”

  Hitler didn’t bother mentioning that his predecessor, Wilhelm Hegel, had died after many days of terrible torture at the hands of some Waffen-SS psychopath, abandoned in some filthy cell at Buchenwald concentration camp. He hadn’t needed to: everyone knew what had happened, and the fairly unsubtle implication behind those unsaid words was clear enough.

  “Surely, the Reichsmarschall would be the best man for any advice regarding the course of the war…”

  “The Reichsmarschall would indeed be the best man, Herr Eckhart,” Hitler snapped sharply, frustration showing through for the first time. “Unfortunately however, Reichsmarschall Reuters is in South East Asia at present, acting as my representative in a visit to our Japanese allies. I would be surprised if you’d not known this already.” He regarded the man with shrewd eyes. “I suspect that something else you also already knew is that one of the reasons for his presence in that region was to personally handle the rather delicate matter of retrieving an atomic bomb that was one of two such devices your own colleague, Direktor Hegel intended to supply to the Japanese for use against the United States… something that I was most definitely not aware of until it was brought to my attention by the Reichsmarschall himself…”

  “Mein Führer,” Eckhart gasped, so suddenly and completely overcome with fear that he was forced to fight back an overpowering urge to vomit, “I assure you that neither I nor the rest of the remaining Direktors knew anything of this… Wilhelm was a zealot whose only intent was the betterment of the Aryan peoples…” He bowed his head slightly, as if conceding a valid point. “That his ideas were misguided and dangerous is quite clear now to us all, but I can only repeat that none of us had the slightest clue about what he was up to.”

  “So you all keep telling me,” the Chancellor mused dubiously, dark eyes cold and merciless. “Herr Heydrich tells me the same… that is, that you are all telling him the same thing…” Eckhart momentarily recalled his own interview with Reinhard Heydrich, head of the Sicherheitsdienst, and shuddered involuntarily at the thought of the man known of within his own secret service as ‘The Blond Beast’. “Be that as it may for the time being…” he continued, letting that statement hang in the air also “…in the Reichsmarschall’s absence, I nevertheless require the unique counsel of someone with some foresight into the future.”

  “You honour me, Mein Führer: I will advise as best I can…”

  “These surprise attacks against the Americans have come at a bad time,” the Chancellor growled, his tone more one of exasperation that actual anger. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, I myself was originally eager to be at war with these bourgeois, Jew-loving degenerates, however Herr Reuters was ultimately able to sway my opinion on this: he has proven to me that beyond a doubt, war with the United States would be a foolish action. What we know now of course,” he went on, turning and moving off once more without warning, forcing Eckhart to play catch-up for a second time, “is that Direktor Hegel was in direct discussion with certain high-ranking members of the Japanese Army regarding the possibility of knocking the Americans out of any war in the Pacific before it had even started.”

  “Führer, I can only again state that I and the rest of the Direktors had no knowledge of Wilhelm’s actions, and if we had, we surely would have –!”

  “Yes, yes! ‘Knew nothing about it’… ‘Terribly shocked’… ‘What was he thinking?’…’’ Hitler dismissed tiredly with a wave of his hand, not even bothering to turn around. “I’ve heard all that many times. It does not however change the fact that our strongest ally has – with German assistance – knowingly engaged in a war with the one nation with which Deutschland wished most of all to avoid conflict… and this done also through the use of falsified documents and spurious letters of authority that were issued in my name…” He rounded on Eckhart, fury alight in his eyes as his next few words were bellowed at full volume “…without my knowledge!”

  There was no pleasantry now; no veneer of civility: this was the crazed rage of a crazed man who was also
the leader of the most powerful nation on the face the earth, able to have entire cities razed upon a single word of command.

  “The last news we have from South-East Asia is that these traitorous, yellow swine have no intention of returning the remaining device to us!” He snarled venomously, spittle flicking from his lips as he advanced on Eckhart and forced him backward in fear. “Millions of Reichsmark in research… in resources… in the years of work bringing these things into being, and one of you – willingly – places everything we have in the hands of those who would endanger Germany by unleashing the wrath of the one nation on earth capable of destroying us…?”

  “Deutschland is invulnerable, Mein Führer…” Eckhart blustered desperately, finding himself suddenly backed up against a wall and left with no avenue of retreat. “You yourself have said so many times! It was you who welcomed war with the United States…”

  “And you are from the future, and know that this was folly… that my folly destroyed Grossdeutschland and left the world at the mercy of the Jewish-Bolshevik conspiracy! Again and again I have watched these motion pictures the Reichsmarschall brought with him from your time… again and again I saw… on these ‘D-V-Ds’ – how the Reich was lost because of my mistakes… my folly…! Don’t try to deny it…!” He howled, pointing an accusing finger in Eckhart’s face. “Do not lie to me in this, for I know the truth of it!”

  “We…” Eckhart began falteringly, shaking with fear now and fighting to hold back actual tears in terrible humiliation. “Ours was the case of one nation pitted against the entire world, Mein Führer!” He managed eventually. “The Italians were useless at best, and the Japanese were from the start nothing more than a political millstone about our necks, dragging us – just as they now threaten to do again – into a war with a nation we cannot hope to defeat, either industrially or technologically.” He paused again to take a short breath, and at that moment even Hitler was forced to take a mental step backward as he saw the sudden light of fanaticism in the man’s eyes.