The Devil's Colony

by Bill Schweigart

  Chapter 21

  As the doorknob turned, Lindsay crumpled to her knees. She buried her face in her hands.

  Henry Drexler took one step into his office and froze in his tracks. “What is the meaning of this? What do you think you’re doing in here?”

  When Lindsay looked up, tears were streaming down her face. “I’m sorry. I just…I just needed a minute.”

  Henry Drexler’s knotted face loosened when he saw the woman curled on the floor, rocking herself. He crossed the room to her and, with difficulty, got down on one knee. “My dear, are you all right? What is it?”

  “Everything!” cried Lindsay, who drew a fresh wave of tears from deep inside herself. Between heaving sobs, she managed to blurt out, “Ben said this would be a great place for us but I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life and I don’t know what I’m doing here and the guy in the next tent over hangs himself and…and…I’m pregnant!”

  She looked up through her tears then and saw Drexler looking at her with shock, or maybe horror. She had just detonated an estrogen bomb in his office, but he shook his head and collected himself in an instant. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Breathe, dear. Here, let’s get you up.”

  He tried to help her up, but he grimaced getting to his feet and they leaned on each other, helping each other up. He led her to his desk and deposited her in a chair, then took his own seat behind it. He passed a box of tissues across the desk to her.

  “I’m sorry,” said Lindsay, collecting herself. “I shouldn’t have come in here. I needed a minute. Hormones, I guess.”

  “Or nerves,” said Drexler. “You said it yourself: new place, new people. That’s a lot of stress for anyone, let alone someone with child.” He stood again. “Please, stay here for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

  He left the office and Lindsay watched him go. She blew out a deep breath. And the Academy Award for Best Actress in a White Supremacist Camp goes to…Lindsay Clark! she thought. I’d like to thank my fellow nominees and dedicate this award to poor dead Mitchell, without whom I could not have done this.

  She stifled a mad urge to rifle through his desk while he was gone, preferring not to press her luck. A moment later, he returned with two mugs of tea on a silver tray and placed it on the desk in front of her.

  “I forget sometimes,” he said, “how overwhelming this place can be. How dark.”

  “You’ve been lovely,” she said. “It’s just…”

  “It wasn’t your idea to come.”

  She shook her head, let her face tighten in a knot. Another tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “God.” He laughed then, a small explosion. “This place was never my first choice either. There were times I swore to the heavens that I’d never return, but it’s always managed to drag me back to it, like an undertow.”

  Lindsay took a deep breath and let it out. She looked around the office, as if she had woken from a dream, and let him see her eyes land on the Nazi banner. “I thought you said at dinner that wasn’t your thing.”

  “Is it your thing?”

  She looked into her lap as if it held answers. When she looked up, she chose her words carefully.

  “I don’t want to bother anyone and I don’t anyone to bother me. Ben and I have always been that way, but he’s…different now.” She wiped her eyes, but added, with a flourish of defensiveness, “I still love him.”

  “Of course you do. You followed him. That’s admirable. Brave.”

  “I don’t feel very brave.” She looked at the Nazi banner again. “I don’t understand anything.”

  “First, you’re safe here. You have my word.”

  “What about that boy?”

  “Mitchell,” said Drexler, shaking his head. “I won’t lie to you: This place has a darkness. It always has. People drawn to it can get swallowed whole. It can break you if you’re not vigilant. Mitchell was a sweet boy, but sadly, this is not a place for those with demons. He needed more help than I could provide. In the right kind of person, Välkommen inspires madness.”

  “You said ‘first.’ Second?”

  “Second, it’s very important that we not lie to one another.”

  Drexler looked intensely at Lindsay for a few moments, enough to make her fear what he was going to say.

  “You said you didn’t understand anything.” He looked at the wall containing the Nazi paraphernalia. “Come back after dinner. I’ll tell you the truth.”

  Chapter 22

  Ben was no saint, but his knee-jerk reaction had been to pass up a smoke with an unhinged lunatic and a handful of white supremacists in the middle of the Pine Barrens. It could have been laced with anything. He felt the men’s bearings change like weather in the small room. They leaned forward, glowered, but it was too late now—reversing himself would appear weak. The only option left was to double down. He looked from man to man.

  “I’m here two fucking nights and I wake up to a dead guy. Blue face, purple tongue, piss down the front of his pants, the works. I don’t need anything making me more paranoid.” He turned to Felix. “But I appreciate it.”

  A few sets of the hard eyes that had glowered at him looked away. Crazy Hendrix lolled his tongue out of his mouth and let his eyes roll to the back of his head, pantomiming the dead man. “Ahhh,” he moaned. Felix paid him no attention and continued to stare at Ben with his ice-blue eyes.

  Anson grinned at Hendrix’s antics. “Whatever your poison,” he said, “we got you. Things can be arranged.”

  “If you can be trusted.” Felix leaned toward Ben. “Dismissed.”

  With that, Ben was ushered back out into the daylight.

  Even as he inhaled the deep, green fresh air and felt relief flood his body, he felt like he had blown it.

  They were as hospitable and backslapping as possible during dinner, working to make him feel welcome on the first night. Ben sensed this little encounter was designed to recalibrate, to let him know where he stood in the Välkommen pecking order: the very bottom. It reminded him of his first night in boot camp. The petty officers signing him in were all smiles in front of his father. Big Ben’s brow was knitted as he watched his son scribble his signature with a shaking hand. They were not fooling Big Ben. He knew what was coming. Ben disappeared into the barracks, was issued his uniforms, had his head shaved, and learned the rudiments of marching. The petty officers were more curt than they had been in front of the parents, but it was not as bad as he had always expected boot camp to be. The new recruits, heads freshly shorn, were then led onto a parade field to do some simple drilling. After raising their right hands in unison and swearing their oaths to defend the Constitution, they had a few brief moments to say goodbye to their parents. When they found each other on the parade field, his father hugged him. He smiled, but Ben saw the worry in his father’s eyes. Big Ben gripped his shoulder tightly and said, “Remember what I said,” giving him a little shake with each word for emphasis.

  “They can’t hurt me. I know, Dad. I’m good.”

  “Damn right you’re good.”

  They hugged once more and the recruits were ordered to form up. Before they disappeared into the barracks, Ben snuck a glance back. His father was standing where he had left him, in the middle of the parade field, the setting sun behind him. It wasn’t until Ben was deep into the barracks, when every last parent had vacated the parade field and their cars were driving away, that the drill instructors truly revealed themselves and the screaming began.

  But this wasn’t boot camp, he thought. There you never volunteered for anything and you kept your head down. It was his last day in Välkommen. If he wanted information, he needed to gain their trust. And to gain their trust he had needed to distinguish himself. And he had one chance with the weed and now it was gone. He navigated his way through the warren of outbuildings and sheds, punishing himself.

  “Hanging out with Charlie Company?”

>   Ben jumped. He turned around and there was Breaux again, leaning against the side of a building.

  “Are you following me?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. Just making my rounds. Making sure everyone is safe and sound.”

  “Why?”

  “Ain’t you heard?” said Breaux, a smile spreading on his face. “There’s a bogeyman in the woods.”

  Ben felt a chill. He was sure the bogeyman was right in front of him, smiling like a wolf.

  “What did the boys want with you?”

  “Gossip,” said Ben, seeing no reason to lie. And if he couldn’t ingratiate himself with them, he’d try the head of security.

  “What’d you tell them?”

  “There wasn’t much to tell. No smoking gun. Or noose, I guess.”

  Breaux laughed, then said, “Do yourself a favor. Give Charlie Company a wide berth.”

  “Charlie? What’s the C really stand for?”

  “Chickenshit. You serve?”

  “Bit of navy.”

  “Cute. Just a bit?”

  “Until I got tired of taking fucking orders. And for a place that promises no orders and no hassles, I’m getting a lot of both.”

  “Place like this needs a bit of order.”

  “That’s where you come in, I take it?”

  Breaux took a little bow.

  “Why are they chickenshits?”

  “Got all these great plans,” he said, spreading his hands wide. “Instead, they sit around all day getting high, not pitching in. If you’re worried, they’ll tire of you soon enough. Fresh meat coming in every day and all. Just keep your head down.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  “Racial holy war, new world order…depends on the day or whatever bug’s up their ass at the moment. I’d whip the shit out of the lot of them, but Felix is the boss’s son, and this is a pretty sweet gig, even if the old man is nuts.”

  “Why is he nuts?”

  “Ever hear the fable about the frog and the scorpion?”

  Ben shook his head.

  “One day, the scorpion decides to change his scenery and cross the river. He asks the frog for a lift. The frog says, ‘No, man, you’ll sting me and we’ll drown.’ And the scorpion argues, ‘That’s crazy, we’d both die.’ So off they go and halfway across, the frog feels a little sting on its back. As he’s sinking, he asks the scorpion why he did it. The scorpion is dancing a little jig on the frog’s back and says, ‘Hey, man, you knew I was a scorpion.’ ”

  “So the old man is the frog then?”

  “It’s his nature to be a decent guy, but he’s smart enough at least to watch his back. And Charlie Company, they’re scorpions. And they’re far from the only ones in this place. Which are you, McCarver?”

  “I’m the river. I just want to go along to get along.”

  Breaux laughed. “That’s pretty good, McCarver, I’ll give you that.”

  “How about you?”

  His laughter settled into a smile. “Oh, I’m a scorpion too. But I get paid for my sting and I damn sure don’t waste it on frogs. Copy?”

  “I think so,” said Ben.

  Ben began to walk past him. Breaux called after him.

  “FYI, Mitchell was the last guy Charlie Company took a shine to and we both know how well that turned out.”

  Chapter 23

  “I was raised by wolves,” said Drexler. Lindsay sat across from him, a mug of tea cupped in her hands. She looked at the clock on the wall. She had time, but not much. Still, if they were late, she didn’t expect Davis would abandon them. This was why they were here, after all. She had earned an audience with the enigmatic leader of this place, and she dared not speak lest it break the spell. “My father and his associates,” continued Drexler.

  His eyes cut to the large red and black banner hanging on the wall. “Father was a Nazi officer, a member of the SS. I say this without pride, but he was a distinguished member. Have you ever heard of the Ahnenerbe?”

  Lindsay shook her head. She had, but she wanted him talking.

  “It was the research branch of the SS. They sought proof of the Aryan hand on the tiller of history. Any great civilizations or advancements in human history, the Ahnenerbe sought an Aryan influence. My father, Dietrich, accompanied them on several expeditions, and he acquitted himself well enough that he was given his own institute. The particular institute is unimportant, but he was given wide latitude and his expeditions led him around the world. Even America. When war broke out, he was here. Under an alias, of course, but his work was considered valuable enough to the war effort that the Nazi Party wished him to continue it in secret. In that regard, he was able to sit out the destruction of Europe in the safety of the Pine Barrens. My father always had an uncanny knack for survival.

  “He told me very little of this himself, mind you. I had to find it out on my own. Through his journals. Which were encrypted, but I cracked them. He also had an uncanny knack for underestimating me, but I’ll get to that eventually. Have you ever heard of Operation Pastorius?”

  Lindsay shook her head, this time in truth.

  “After Pearl Harbor and Nazi Germany’s declaration of war on the United States, Hitler authorized a mission to sabotage critical infrastructure in America. Dams, bridges, Jewish-owned businesses. This sabotage had the dual benefit of crippling the economy and the war effort as well as causing widespread terror. The Abwehr military intelligence organization recruited German residents of the United States, brought them to Germany for intensive training, and then brought them back via U-boat. They landed on a beach in Long Island. But the mission fell apart rather quickly.

  “First, they were discovered by a Coast Guardsman patrolling the beach. Rather than killing him, they threatened, then bribed him. Once free, the Coast Guardsman immediately raised an alarm, which started a manhunt, but the agents got away. Eventually, the lead saboteurs lost their nerve and turned themselves in to the FBI. Except for the whistle-blowers, the entire team got the electric chair.”

  Lindsay shuddered. That was genuine as well. “I’ve never heard that story.”

  “There was another U-boat landing in 1944, in Maine. It was called Operation Magpie, but they were carrying spies, not saboteurs. Pastorius and Magpie, these two were the only known U-boat landings in America in World War Two.”

  “Known…” said Lindsay.

  “Very good.” Drexler smiled. “There was a third mission, an even more secret one. Operation Pastorius carried saboteurs, Operation Magpie carried spies, but Operation Gersemi carried neither.”

  “What did it carry?”

  “Gold,” said Drexler with a gleam in his eye. “Nazi gold. The problem with Operation Pastorius was that the two men who gave up the plot actually hated the Nazis. They were not loyal. And with Operation Magpie, one of the two spies took up drinking and womanizing, and he too turned himself in to the FBI. But no one in Nazi Germany questioned the loyalty of Dietrich Drexler.

  “It was in February of 1945. By this point there were those in the Nazi Party who could already see the writing on the wall. Hitler’s grand plan was unraveling, and some of the more practical members of the party realized the Reich wouldn’t last long at all, let alone a thousand years, without money. So the party authorized the controlled dispersal of assets, so as not to be seized by the ever-advancing Allied forces. And what could be more deliciously ironic than to send it into the heart of America, to plant it like a seed until the Reich was ready to bloom again?

  “There was only one problem: My father saw the writing on the wall as well. Though he was intensely loyal to the Reich, he was more loyal to himself. He met the landing party on a wintry night in early 1945, took possession of the gold, and then promptly broke communications with Nazi Germany. Uncharacteristically, his journals were vague on the details of that night. But like I said, my father had an uncanny knack for survival, even if it was at the expense of someone else’s. It was a turning point for him and the origins of the place th
at I would rechristen Välkommen. Back then of course, no one was welcome. It was a haven only for my father and his trusted agents. There were German POW camps right here in southern New Jersey at the time, soldiers conscripted to work on farms. And when the POWs were released, they could either return to their devastated homeland or stay in America, a forgiving and pastoral land of promise. When the men were released, my father was there to scoop up the ones who were still loyal to the Reich, but more important, those who swore loyalty to him. And it was these men who populated this place in the beginning.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “My mother was kind. Lovely and kind. I believe my father loved her once, as much as he was capable, but then she gave birth to me.” He gestured to his own leg behind the desk and smiled ruefully. “A scrawny, imperfect child. My father had little time, or use, for either me or my mother after I arrived. As you can imagine, it was not an easy childhood.” Drexler’s eyes went glassy and he sighed. “Ah, I’m sorry. What about your family?”

  Lindsay remembered Davis’s warnings to her and Ben to stick to the truth, changing as little as possible. “They haven’t been in the picture for quite some time.”

  “I’m sorry. Have they passed on?”

  Lindsay looked at the bookshelves as she tried to find her words. She had not spoken of them in a long time.

  “They’re very much alive. More like they’ve passed on me. They’ve disowned me.”

  “Because of your…choices?” he said delicately, nodding toward the wall and the camp beyond it; somewhere out there was Ben.

  “The way I live my life is not a choice. It’s my nature.”

  “And you can’t change your nature?”