by Todd Downing
“That would be lovely. And, I must confess, extra funds would help maintain my extended vacation from true adulthood.”
James laughed, and, once again, offered his arm, which I accepted as we wandered toward parts of the house that were off limits for this gathering.
# # #
While the previous evening’s tour had been educational in the Schmitt’s taste in artwork, it had not yielded any fruit in my search for any connection to the Nazis. I was hoping James’ offer, which would provide me access to other areas of their residence, might produce a lead.
I arrived at the Schmitt’s house promptly at ten in the morning the next day. I had chosen to play the part of the uncouth American and dressed myself in a pair of trousers and work jacket from our storeroom. There was a secondary reason for my fashion choice. Since my wound left me unable to form a complete fist with my left hand, Heidi had created a jacket sheath for my favorite knife. With a specific flick of my wrist, the hilt of a twelve-inch razor sharp steel blade would be an extension of my damaged arm in a matter of seconds.
In addition to the blade, Heidi had packed my jacket and trousers with several other goodies, including multiple miniature cameras, a Farnsworth communicator and a Tesla gun which delivered an electrical charge from a mere spark to a near deadly discharge depending on the setting.
I knocked on the door and James opened it.
“Welcome back, Alyssa.”
“Thank you, James. But why are you answering the door?”
He laughed. “It turns out the Schmitts left immediately after the party to their Chateau in the Alps. They handed me the keys as if I were a trusted confidant, rather than a business associate they just met.”
“Don’t you find that odd?”
“It’s certainly unusual. They said something about the propriety of allowing an expert to do their job in a manner that avoids the appearance of outside influence, but it’s certainly not the norm.”
James ushered me into the house. Instead of taking the stairs up to the third floor where the party was last night, we wandered several corridors before walking into a large kitchen. I’d been in some extravagant houses growing up, all equipped with kitchens designed to be staffed by multiple people, but this was twice the size of any I’d seen. The prep area was larger than the size of the living area and one of the bedrooms in the apartment Heidi and I shared. The stone hearth in the center of the room was over ten feet in diameter.
Much to my surprise, James walked directly to the hearth. When I followed, I saw that instead of a fire pit, there was instead a winding set of stone stairs leading down into the darkness.
“It’s a bit disconcerting, but I gather the apartment was built over an old abbey. They used to hide people fleeing the Inquisition in the cellars below. The hearth made a good place to dig out a set of stairs as they could cover the passage with a stone plug that could have a fire built upon it.”
“And if the Inquisitors stayed a while?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. Herr Schmitt showed me the staircase last night and showed me to the room where the art is stored. He did mention it was recently wired for electricity, so we won’t have to rely on lanterns.”
“That’s something.”
“Indeed” replied James as he pressed a button on a switch that lay on top of the staircase. The comforting glow of electrical bulbs illuminated the stairs.
We proceeded down the surprisingly wide stairs until we reached a stone cellar with three doors. Stacked high along the only wall without a door was plenty of seasoned chopped wood. One of the doors was ajar and I could see empty meat hooks dangling from the ceiling with wood crates lining the far wall. I estimated we were now some thirty feet under the floor of the apartment and the temperature was easily twenty degrees cooler than the house.
“It’s this way,” indicated James as he crossed over to the large wooden slat door to the north. He clicked another light switch on the wall and pushed open the door.
My first impression was that of a large cave, easily one hundred feet long with some twenty racks full of wine on either side of a central corridor. There were two lines of electrical lights, evenly spaced between the racks.
We strode through the wine until, at the back of the room, there was a sharp right turn into another room about forty feet square. Vertical racks lined this room with a large six foot square table in the center. In each rack were crated objects, presumably the paintings we’d come to view. The table was covered in immaculate white linen and a tool chest lay at the foot of the racks.
The rest of the morning was spent uncrating paintings and removing the giant sponges that helped preserve the art. James then studied each piece for ten minutes or so, and we crated them back up.
Though I had studied art in various museums during the last year, most of the artists were unfamiliar to me, though there was a particularly stunning harvest painting I suspected was a Reubens. The other two that stood out were a painting of a mermaid and one of a female resting against a rock as she knitted a fishing net. James seemed in his element and was making copious notes, but left me no time to investigate.
We broke for luncheon around one o’clock and went back upstairs. James produced an impressive array of meats, cheeses and bread, along with various spreads and several beers from the icebox. The food was excellent and our conversation was mostly reminiscing from our school days.
Finally, as we strode back down the stairs, I casually asked, “What’s behind the other door?”
“I’m not sure. I tested it when I came down early this morning so I wouldn’t look the fool when I led you to the art, but it was locked.”
“Pity.”
James laughed. “You always were the snoop. Remember when you found those South American statues in Katherine DeQuincy’s mom’s closet?”
I joined in the laughter and helped fill in the blanks of his memory about that particular incident, leaving out the part where they were an altar to an obscure Mayan god, less I break cover.
# # #
James and I had parted amicably in the late afternoon with ambiguous promises to meet for dinner over the weekend. It was well into the night when Heidi and I returned to the apartment.
Unlike the laborer’s outfit I had worn this morning, I was now clad in black, though similarly equipped as before. Heidi carried her black carpet bag which housed even more gadgets and weapons, though I knew she had a Tesla within easy reach in one of her pockets. In addition, the thick cane she held in her right hand had both a blade as well as a long bore shotgun concealed as part of the walking stick.
We got to the front door. I inserted the custom pick Heidi had designed for me into the lock. I pulled the trigger several times and could feel the cylinder twist in my hand, then was quickly rewarded with a “click” indicating the lock had been sprung.
We entered through the door quickly, but casually, as if we were supposed to be there, and closed it behind us.
I guided Heidi to the moonlit kitchen and, as we entered, I heard a muffled thump and a cry of pain from the bottom of the well lit staircase.
I looked at Heidi and she nodded; she had heard it as well.
Heidi raised her cane into a more offensive position and I pulled out my Tesla.
We started down the steps methodically, with me craning my head to take in as much as I could without exposing myself. About halfway down, I swore I could hear the sound of scrabbling footsteps. We finally reached the bottom of the steps and the room was empty, though all three doors were ajar.
There, in front of the previously locked door on the west wall, was the prone form of James, a small pool of blood oozing from a wound on the back of his head.
Protocol demanded we sweep the room before checking on my friend. Heidi and I shifted so our backs were to each other, and we slowly turned in a circle.
We cleared the meat locker first and I closed the door behind us. I could see nothing in the wine cellar and had no inclination to enter
that large a room with only two of us, so I shut that door as well.
I finally moved to James, saw that he was still breathing and stepped over his prone form, Heidi now at my side.
The room in front of us was not what I expected.
I’d hoped to find a cache of maps, communications from Germany and maybe weapons that implicated the Schmitts in spying activities.
Instead, what I saw was a twenty by twenty room with a central altar that had large bloody ropes connected to it by metal loops augured into the stone. There were more red stains spattered around the base of the four foot high rock formation. The single light bulb centered over the altar shed enough illumination to show the walls were blank save for what appeared to be arterial blood spray in eight different patterns. Oddly, there were no candles, incense or ritual knives in the room, nor an effigy, though it was clear sacrifices were being made, presumably animal.
Heidi looked ill, which wasn’t that surprising. Though she was field qualified, she did so to understand the conditions I would be operating under. In reality, this was only the second time she had accompanied me and the previous was on an overnight stakeout.
I motioned for her to attend to James and I stepped forward into the room. Upon closer examination, the position of the ropes and the size of the altar was not for an animal, as I had expected, but to my disgust, a human. The presence of multiple strands of human hair, in different lengths and colors, confirmed my suspicions.
I turned to speak to Heidi when something detached itself from shadows in the corner to the west of the door and came silently running at me. I had the impression of a large, humanoid, black figure, claws glistening with some type of viscous fluid and deep red eyes before I leaped into action.
“Heidi!” I yelled as I twisted out of its path and snapped my left arm out, flicking my wrist at the same time. The comforting feel of my knife’s hilt settled into my hand and I grasped it as tight as the damage would allow, though it wasn’t necessary as the support structure was actually in the sheath.
I narrowly dodged a slash from its claws and returned the favor with a backhand riposte to its center mass. I could feel the impact shudder down my arm as the knife struck home. The creature did not make a sound as the blade tore through its midsection and it went down in a heap. My Tesla clattered to the floor.
I took two steps back and, was wise to do so, as it turned and leaped for me again with such force that I was showered with dark red blood from the abdominal wound. I spun the opposite way, nearly making contact with the altar in the process, and scored another hit; this time cleanly lopping off its arm just below the elbow.
Before it could turn to attack again, there was a loud, concussive bang and its head exploded, spattering the wall instead of me.
I turned to the sound of the noise, my ears ringing, and there was Heidi, her shotgun cane socketed against her shoulder. She advanced into room and racked another round into the chamber all the while keeping it pointed at the unmoving form.
“Der schwartze Mann,” she exclaimed at an exaggerated level.
“What?”
“Die Butzemann.” She shook her head. “Sorry, in English it would be the Bogeyman. The creature from the shadows that steals children, but the Bogeyman is just a myth, right?”
“Evidence would suggest to the contrary.”
“What in tarnation is going on,” James demanded groggily as he came up from behind Heidi, rubbing his head. He pointed at the corpse on the floor and looked at Heidi’s shotgun, then at the knife in my left hand. “What on earth is that thing? When did you get here, Alyssa? I came back to check on one of the paintings, which I think was stolen. Who is your companion? And why do you have a knife covered in blood?”
“That’s going to take some explaining, but not here. Heidi, we need to get him out of here.”
Heidi nodded and brought the cane down slightly. She turned and took the three steps to where her open bag lay. She knelt down and glanced at its contents for a moment before reaching in, grabbing a rag and throwing it in my direction in a smooth motion. She didn’t bother to look back to see if I’d caught it, instead swiveling her head to keep scanning the room.
I snatched the cloth out of the air and quickly cleaned off my blade. I then bundled the rag and pushed the tip of the knife against it gently, releasing my grip on the hilt. It retracted back into my coat sleeve clicking into its ready position and I dropped the bloody towel into my pocket.
I picked up the Tesla and said, “Let’s go, and quickly. James, follow me and Heidi will cover your rear flank.” I held up my hand to cut off his next question. “I’ll answer everything, but not here.”
# # #
We covered the walk back to Shakespeare and Company in less than fifteen minutes. James had started to wobble by the end of our jaunt, and Heidi held him upright as I unlocked the door.
We entered the store, and I was hit by the lovely waft of must and old paper, which slowed my heart rate down to normal. Heidi locked the door behind us, and I pocketed the Tesla. I grabbed James’ hand with my right and pulled him toward the back of the store, comfortable in my element even without the lights on.
We pushed past the curtain to the storeroom and I reached for the false light switch. Letting go of his hand, I quickly depressed the buttons in the proper sequence and then crossed the large storeroom to the back wall. I grabbed the bust of Shakespeare that sat on a pedestal and turned the head counter-clockwise ninety degrees. The hidden panel slid open and the stairs leading down to our base lit up.
“What on earth is going on?” asked James.
“Follow me, and I will explain.”
I descended the stairs carved into the limestone quickly, walked into the common room and turned, my arms outstretched in welcome.
James came down the stairs cautiously and stopped at the base.
“Welcome to AEGIS,” I stated, a smile on my face.
“AEGIS? You mean..? You’re with AEGIS? How did that happen?”
I walked forward and grabbed his arm, gently pulling him to the sofa which faced the door.
“Have a seat, and we can talk about it.”
James slumped into the couch and rubbed the back of his head.
Heidi crossed over to the door on the west wall and reemerged a minute later with an ice pack that she handed to James. He thanked her, held it in place where he’d been hit, and looked at me expectantly.
“This is my partner, Heidi Mueller. Heidi, this is James Harrington, an old friend.”
He looked at her and smiled, then turned his gaze back to me.
“I’ve been with AEGIS for five years now.”
“Five years? How did that happen?”
“It was the airplane racing that first caught their attention, but my degrees in folklore and archaeology didn’t hurt either. I was recruited and, after a lot of hard training, was accepted into the Valkyrie squadron.”
“You’re a Valkyrie?”
“I used to be. About two years ago I was injured in an operation in Romania. When I recovered, they moved me into an operational role here in Paris with Heidi. She’s an amazing gadget and weapons designer. I do actually take shifts here at the bookstore, gathering social intelligence in my spare time, when I’m not down here helping Heidi test out her latest creations.”
“Who else knows?”
“From back home? My parents, that’s it.”
“Why the secrecy?”
“To maintain my cover. Within my parent’s social set, trips to Paris are common. Before that, I was too busy going out on missions or training to see anyone from Boston. Most of the action I saw was nowhere near where someone from the Back Bay would ever consider visiting, so there was never any chance I would run into someone I knew.”
“Then how did you wind up at the Schmitts’ party? Were you following me?”
I laughed. “You were a happy circumstance. The Schmitts came on my radar about a month ago when a patron at the store casually men
tioned to another about their newfound wealth. The Nazis have started expatriating party members and setting them up with money to spy on the social elite here in Paris and other major cities. We assume there’s a longer game in play here, but we don’t know what the goal is. I figured they were worth checking out and you gave me the perfect excuse to snoop.”
“And that thing on the floor?”
Heidi started rapidly speaking in German.
When she came to AEGIS three years ago, she only spoke her native language. When she was stressed, she tended to revert back to her upbringing. Fortunately, I’m good with languages and picked up conversational German within the first months of our partnership.
I waited until she finished and turned back to James.
“Truthfully, I don’t know. Heidi is pretty serious in insisting it was a bogeyman.”
“Die Butzmann, ja.”
James looked at me incredulously. “You aren’t serious?”
“Why not? It’s a legend that spawns across most cultures. My experience has been that a tale like that, one that doesn’t know borders or gaps between continents, has some basis in truth. The specifics change, but the root story stays pretty consistent.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around….wait, you said your experience?”
“The Valkyries may look great on the news reels in front of movies battling the forces of dictators and despots, but a lot of our missions involved the occult and the unexplained. Let’s just says that my studies didn’t stop after Wesleyan and proved to be more practical than I would have ever imagined. So yes, I’m willing to entertain the possibility that was a bogeyman.”
“I don’t know what to say. It’s a little overwhelming and I’m not sure if it’s the knot on the back of my head that’s causing my head to ache or this little revelation.”
“I understand. I do have a favor to ask. Can you tell me what you remember?”
James shrugged and winced. “Honestly, I remember coming down the stairs. I was determined to check on that Ruebens which I think went missing in the Great War. I saw the locked door from this morning was open and went to investigate. Then nothing.”