Tales from the Voynich Manuscript and the Island of Jan Mayen

by Alexander Copperwhite

  Despite the hard work and constant movement, the sound of the raindrops that fell on the placid waters resounded through the entire ship. Smooth and relaxing. The price of atonement was too high and the men on board were prepared to pay it... even at the cost of their lives.

  XII – The Path

  "I think we're getting pretty close," the professor declared.

  The captain had grown tired of asking him about what he knew and what he was trying to do. He merely contented himself with following closely behind the professor and hoping he would lead them to the killer.

  There will be time to interrogate him in a courtroom before a jury when we get back, the captain thought.

  "As you can all see, in the northeastern part of the island there are several cliffs with various openings caused by old volcanic eruptions. If I'm not mistaken and followed the instructions correctly, a mouth that opens out to the sea should be located right here."

  He pointed to spot on the map.

  "So now you ask us about the place where we're headed?" the captain asked. "Not that we even know what it is you're trying to do."

  "I'm not consulting you about anything. I'm just informing you of the situation. And nothing more."

  The soldiers were divided into two groups of three: one of them led the expedition and the other served as the rear guard. Waiting. And anxious. They knew they were approaching their objective and that made them more aggressive and on edge. Their only training up to that point had been in war games on fictitious battlefields using fake ammunition and grenades of colored smoke. It was a form of entertainment more than anything else. Their killer instinct was confined to long battles fought on video game platforms and all the bravado that came out of their mouths during drunken sprees on the weekend.

  "I'll kick your ass and kill you," they threatened.

  But they were nothing more than empty words compared to what it means to really kill someone. Now they were truly facing death and there was nothing amusing about it.

  The soldiers at the head of the expedition stopped in their tracks and waited for the captain to catch up and give them new orders. The rock there, cut like slices of butter that plunged down to the ocean depths, prompted a reaction as terrifying as it was startling.

  This looks like the end of the world, Erika thought.

  The sea penetrated through the solid surface that roared with the motion of breaking waves. Off in the distance, an iceberg floated impassively towards warmer waters, unaware of what was happening on that small island it disregarded, and equally unaware that it would soon melt and break apart from not remaining in its natural habitat and birthplace: the frigid northern waters. A lesson that everyone who dared to upset the peace of the island would soon learn the hard way.

  "What have you seen?" the captain asked.

  The three soldiers pointed to a steep, rugged path that appeared to be carved naturally into the rock and led to a half-submerged cave that was the source of the roaring sea. When the waves broke in that cave, the water converged on an imaginary center, sounding like a possessed dragon, and shot jets of foaming liquid into the air over a distance of several meters. A cavity perfectly constructed by the dormant volcano for a medium-sized submarine to take shelter and hide away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world.

  XIII – The Cave

  Hans checked out the path leading down to the cave and did not look very pleased at what he saw. The action of the wind and waves over time had made the ground surface smooth and slick, and the ice brought on by the bad weather didn't make the footing any better. He knew that he should go first and break up the slippery surface with an ice axe to level the path for the others, aside from making sure the rock wouldn't give way beneath their feet. His life would be in danger, as usual, but the idea that someone might be watching them was even less appealing. Facing the natural elements was already complicated enough without having to contend with a deranged murderer at the same time.

  "I'll go first."

  But before anything else, he stomped down hard on the edge to find out if it would support his weight.

  It doesn't seem to give, he thought, kicking it twice with his right leg for confirmation.

  He smiled and hammered in a safety hook at chest height that would serve as an anchor point in an emergency. If he had a couple of rappelling ropes, everything would be so much easier, but that wasn't the case.

  "Forward," he said to himself.

  He took two steps and gave the rock beneath his feet a powerful blow.

  I'll put a hook here and on we go, he thought.

  Erika watched, anxious and frightened. The path to the mouth of the cave wasn't very long but it was definitely dangerous. The waves furiously crashing against the cliff broke apart into smaller drops that soaked the group waiting several meters above the waves.

  "Just don't let the sea swallow me up," Hans muttered.

  With the patience of someone who knew what he was doing and the sureness of a professional, he approached the entrance to... some place he knew nothing about. It wasn't clear whether he would even be able to go into whatever it was without the sea smashing him into something, either.

  "This is going to be really easy. The ground is firm, although I'll put another hook in here just in case," he declared.

  With the back part of the ice axe, flat as the head of a hammer, he gathered his strength and began to hammer "the lifesaver,” as he called it, into the rock. The thick gloves he wore just got in the way, the strong winds blew him off balance, but the adrenaline pumping in his veins kept him sane and alert even as the waiting and uncertainty drove him crazy.

  I hope that goddamn maniac bastard is asleep or doing something else, just so long as he's not around here, he thought.

  And continued hammering away.

  Nearly an hour later, Hans' head peeked out around the edge of the cliff, between the sea and the mouth of the cave, and looked over the land.

  "That little path keeps going inside!" he said excitedly. "You can go down now."

  The captain looked at his men and issued his orders without hesitation.

  "You two will stay up here to stand guard," he said to two soldiers. "And you two will go first and secure the entrance. I think everyone else should stay here until we make sure that everything is all right."

  "No!" the professor snapped angrily. "Erika can stay up here but Jürgen and I will go down with you. I don't want all the effort and sacrifice of the people who died be in vain."

  "But what the hell are you talking about?" the captain asked.

  "You'll find out right away and I hope you come to understand how important our presence is on this island."

  "I don't believe there's anything here that's worth dying over."

  "Oh, yes, there is," the professor declared firmly.

  XIV – The Base

  "Go through here. Carefully!"

  Hans grabbed one of the soldiers, pulled him toward the interior of the cave, and immediately went after the next one in line.

  Once all four of them were safely inside, they leaned against the rocky wall on their left and peered down to view what was underneath their feet. It was impressive. The waves were breaking over steep rocks that sloped diagonally down towards the interior, creating a relatively calm settled submarine entry way that soothed the sea's raging fury inside. Any submarine could come in there, even during stormy weather, and be able to maneuver very easily. No man would be capable of creating something so ingenious so spontaneously.

  "It's just like my father described it," the professor said.

  "Your father?" Jürgen asked.

  "Let's keep going deeper inside the cave, and then I'll tell all of you everything I know."

  They slowly walked along the improvised passageway until they could barely see anything and the roar of the ocean grew fainter. They pulled flashlights out of their packs and, much like a disco is lit when they turn on the spotlights, the tunnel soaked up the flickering beams of
light that looked like they were being handled by trembling puppeteers rather than professional soldiers and proud, hardy adventurers. A few minutes later, they saw the tunnel expanding in every direction to create a huge, bubble-like chamber within the dormant volcano, where the waters rested in complete calm and their whispering voices reverberated all around.

  That damn echo. It's bound to give us away, thought Hans.

  He crouched down to look at the ground lit by his flashlight and saw footprints. They were clearly not theirs or had anything to do with them.

  "We're not alone," Hans said.

  "Of course, we're not alone," the professor added loudly.

  When the echo of the professor's voice was finally absorbed by the depths of the cave, the sound of a diesel engine split the unsettling silence in two. High-powered spotlights hung from the central part of the cave were turned on and they discovered what the darkness was hiding.

  "Oh my God!" Jürgen blurted.

  Above them waved a large banner bearing the German eagle over a swastika leaning at an angle. It was nearly in tatters but the blood red color was practically intact. Some makeshift rails extended from one side to the other, with rusted metal plates between them.

  "Look, it's a bridge!" said Hans.

  Just on the other side, where the bridge ended and a short incline led a few meters further down, almost to the water, a World II submarine was floating as if still biding its time until its old crew would come back to weigh anchor and head off for new ports. The deck was covered with rubble and the conning tower was full of dents and dust. But the sub still proudly displayed its identification beneath the rusted emblem of a skull with two crossed torpedoes. U-128.

  "How is that possible?" wondered the captain, dumbfounded.

  They approached the bridge and readied themselves to cross it.

  "Halt right there!" rang out from the darkness of a remote corner.

  XV – The Dream of the Fathers

  "Throw down your weapons or I'll be forced to shoot you," the man's threatening voice ordered.

  The captain stepped forward.

  "Don't say a word!"

  The negotiation was over. A burst of gunfire cut down three soldiers and wounded the professor.

  "I'm not kidding around, I'm not thinking of negotiating with any of you. You can be absolutely sure that I will kill all of you without thinking twice about it."

  "OK, OK!" the captain shouted and threw his gun to the ground.

  The fourth soldier disarmed himself as well and bent down to aid his comrades in arms. Luckily, all of them had only suffered flesh wounds in the thigh.

  "How are you men doing?" the captain asked anxiously.

  "We're all right," they answered.

  The shooter had no intention of killing them even if his calculations weren't so accurate.

  "Get up, Olaf!"

  "..."

  "I said to get up!"

  "He's seriously wounded," Jürgen replied.

  Unfortunately, one of the bullets had ricocheted off the rocks and struck the professor in the back, passing through and exiting his chest and leaving him gasping for breath.

  "Why did you do that?" the professor asked without raising his voice much.

  A middle-aged man appeared from the shadows of a darkened section of the back wall almost directly over the submarine.

  "What a shame! I wasn't trying to kill you... at least not that way."

  The white-haired man, his face lined with wrinkles caused more by bitterness than the passing years, looked down scornfully at the group he had at his mercy, almost directly beneath his feet.

  "You're making a mistake," said the professor.

  "Making a mistake?! I'm making a mistake? The one who made a mistake was that son of a bitch offspring of the Nazi captain who stole my Julia away from me. His race doesn’t just exterminate millions of Jews. It also betrays its friends and forgets its commitments."

  "You were the one who went away."

  "How dare you! You know very well that I had to come out here to check for myself that everything was in order so we could move it to Europe."

  "But you disappeared for an entire year," the professor said and coughed, spitting out some blood.

  "Look at what happens to you here. In the blink of an eye, you're cut off from the rest of the world. Naturally, our fathers picked the perfect place to hide the gold."

  "Julia didn't know."

  "She was my wife and Fritz was my friend."

  "They fell in love."

  “They betrayed me."

  "No."

  "And you, what do you know? You didn't have go into your own house and see how the love of your life was rocking the child of your best friend in her arms."

  "Our fathers..."

  "To hell with our fathers!" he said, finally calming down. "To hell with our fathers and their damn ideas about how to balance the scales and make the world better. None of that has mattered to me for years now."

  "But why did you kill Samuel's son? He didn't have anything to do with any of this."

  "But he brought you to me."

  "So, now you've got me," mumbled the tired professor.

  "The best part is that you brought Fritz's son here with you."

  "You're making a mistake."

  "You made the mistake by bringing him to me. And the dream of our parents will die with him."

  XVI – Gold

  Near the end of the war...

  Wooden crates on top of more wooden crates were piled high in one corner of the cave. Too many submarine journeys to count had transported all the gold the three man had managed to obtain there. Gold from ransacked banks, blown-up Nazi bunkers, seized French hideouts, retrieved from Jewish communities and museums; gold from everywhere. Individuals from every nation and all the military and social institutions were involved in the operation, from small farmers up to officers and officials on every side. Their goal was as remarkable as it was outrageous, but they were following the dictates of their hearts.

  "It appears that Berlin is under siege and it's only a matter of time until Germany surrenders", the American said.

  "Better that way," added the German captain. "Fewer problems for the world. I think the Japanese will hold out for a couple more years but they will surrender in the end. Then we'll take the gold and try to restore as much as we possibly can."

  The American nodded in agreement.

  "I have a better idea," the Jewish man declared. "Certainly, we would do a great deal of good, but you also must think of everyone who collaborated with us to make this project possible and who maybe, just maybe, have changed their minds by the time we come back. Remember that promises made during wartime are good for nothing in times of peace."

  Both men fell silent, lost in their thoughts.

  "Well, what do you propose then? asked the German captain.

  “In my opinion, better that we should leave this task to our grandchildren, when the wounds from the war are not so deep and there aren't so many brilliant minds gathered around the table. Three descendants, one world to restore. I know it sounds egotistical, but..."

  "No, no," the American interrupted. "You're right. To restore the damage caused without any prejudices or emotions interfering. Let it be the new generations who put back in order what the old minds ruined. It strikes me as the perfect plan."

  "Very well," the German captain said. "I believe that all of us are in agreement then. I also like the idea of our grandchildren making amends for the errors of their grandparents."

  "And may God forgive us," added the American.

  The three colleagues and friends maintained a minute of silence in remembrance of all war victims, one minute that extended to almost six without any of them realizing it. The gold they robbed was for the children who lost their parents, the women who lost their husbands, the mothers who would never see their sons again, the young men stripped of their innocence and everyone who suffered the horror of being forced to give
up their dreams, and their dignity. The gold was never going to compensate for the damage done, but neither would it fatten the bellies of the self-serving egotists and corrupt men who wanted to take advantage of the end of the war, as they did for as long as it lasted.

  XVII – Past

  "The time has come to take my revenge," said the deranged gunman.

  "No!" shouted the professor with what little strength he had left.

  "Face it, it's futile... or do you actually think you can make me change my mind?"

  "Come over here!"

  "Do you really think I'm that naive?"

  "I said come over here. Don't tell me you're scared of an old man who's on the verge of dying."

  "Of course not."

  His shoes clicked with each step he took over the makeshift bridge. Each one closer, and each one more hateful. He pointed his machine gun at the soldiers and captain, signaling them to keep away from him. He looked at Jürgen with sheer contempt and squatted down at the professor's side.

  "You damn optimist," he said.

  "You old imbecile," the professor responded.

  Anyone would have thought that they would embrace each other like good friends at any moment, but not under these circumstances.

  "You must not kill Jürgen," the professor whispered.

  "Why not?" he shouted furiously.

  "Fritz spent what little he had to try and find you. He was even about to go off looking for you, but Julia wouldn't permit it. You know very well my father hid out in Norway and knew very little about the two of you. Those were different times."