The Resurrector (The Dominic Grey Series)

by Layton Green

  Viktor was too agitated to sleep. Not only was he concerned about his predicament, but his mind kept returning to the things he had glimpsed beneath van Draker’s manor.

  The professor had done some research, and he knew Jans was right. Scientists were experimenting with galvanism and suspended animation and human resuscitation hundreds of years ago. A Harvard doctor had recently developed a procedure that rinsed donated human hearts of their cellular structure, regenerated them with cells grown in a lab, and used electrical pulses to restart the heart. The Chinese had already made a genetically edited super dog. An Italian neurosurgeon was seeking to conduct the first human head transplant by severing the head and spinal cord of a patient with a rare genetic disorder, and fusing it to a fresh human corpse.

  As far as Viktor knew, no one had gone as far as van Draker, but God only knew what unethical foreign governments and private corporations had accomplished in past decades.

  Even more chilling, his research in the last twenty-four hours had started to piece together the link between van Draker’s activities and the effects of the gargoyle virus.

  It all went back to the Ahnenerbe.

  Historians agreed that the Institut für Wehrwissenschaftliche Zweckforschung, the Nazi Institute for Military Scientific Research which carried out extensive and documented human experimentation on concentration camp victims, fell under the aegis of the Ahnenerbe during World War II. As the insanity of the war progressed, so did the goals and deeds of the Ahnenerbe. Prisoners were exposed to poisons, chemicals, and deadly pathogens to develop vaccines. The effects of contagious diseases on different racial groups was studied. Identical twins, including infants, were experimented upon and dissected after death. Limbs were amputated and grafted onto other prisoners, with resuscitation attempts made on the corpses of the failures.

  The Ahnenerbe was also interested in testing survival thresholds, in order to develop superhuman soldiers. Not just by selective breeding and culling, but by experimental drugs that inhibited pain receptors and granted extraordinary strength and stamina for short periods. Viktor found numerous articles confirming that Nazi soldiers made extensive use of pharmaceuticals in combat during the latter days of the war. How far those drugs had progressed, no one knew.

  It went further. There were claims that American forces had raided a super-secret Nazi facility where the bodies of captured Russian soldiers were found in various stages of dissection and metal-grafting, including bones and ribs enhanced with steel prostheses. Bodies were cryogenically frozen. A rumor persisted that the Nazis had tried to revive the corpses of animals and even humans through mysterious means.

  Truth: On April 28, 1945, American officers investigating a munitions factory in east-central Germany found a fake brick wall hidden in a mineshaft. After smashing through the wall, the Americans found a plethora of Nazi regalia and stolen treasure, as well as a quartet of coffins containing the skeletons of two Teutonic military heroes, Frederick the Great and Field Marshall Paul von Hindenburg, as well as von Hindenburg’s wife.

  The fourth coffin, though empty, bore the name of its intended future occupant.

  Adolf Hitler.

  How far had the Nazi’s research taken them? Viktor wondered. Had it continued to this day, carried out in secret labs by the successors to the Ahnenerbe?

  Was van Draker the heir apparent? What does history not know about the Nazis?

  What does the public not know about the present?

  The sound of a key turning in a lock jerked Viktor out of his thoughts. Who could that be, at four a.m.? Was someone bringing in another prisoner? Had Naomi finally heard about the arrest?

  The tiny jail was in the basement of the courthouse. A block of holding cells that, come to think of it, hadn’t looked very much in use. He had seen no other prisoners on the way in, or even a monitor.

  Viktor had attributed the simplicity of the jail to the small size of the town, but shouldn’t there be a guard posted? A sound-equipped camera in the hallway?

  A door creaked open. Viktor’s cell faced a hallway. If memory served, the corridor outside his cell, lit by weak fluorescent light, ran about twenty yards in either direction. He had come in from the left, down a long set of stairs.

  Footsteps. Striding down the cement floor.

  “Naomi?”

  No answer.

  The footsteps drew closer. Unnerved, Viktor backed against the rear wall of his cell. “Who’s there?”

  A man stepped into view, stopping right in front of Viktor’s cell. A man with an ashen, rubbery face, dressed in an ankle-length black overcoat and a wide-brimmed safari hat pulled low.

  “What do you want?” Viktor said.

  In response, Robey took a key out of his pocket and bent to unlock the door.

  -37-

  The greatest acting job Grey ever pulled off was pretending not to notice as Emil stared at him. The Icelander’s appearance had thrown Grey at first. Emil’s topknot was loose and past his shoulders, broadening his face, and he had exchanged his sweater for a collared blue shirt and a sleek calfskin coat. Still, Grey rarely forgot a face, and he could feel the Icelander trying to place him. Ready to spring across the table if needed, Grey dipped his head and took a long sip of tea, shielding his face.

  After a few of the longest seconds of Grey’s life, Emil stepped to the counter and ordered. The attendant reached into a glass case, cut off a large slice of German chocolate cake, and placed it into a Styrofoam container. Emil made them add whipped cream.

  Good god, Grey thought. The man was picking up chocolate cake for his girlfriend.

  Not trusting the coincidence, Grey’s eyes flicked to the window. A red Toyota Fortuna had pulled to the curb by the front entrance, engine idling. Inside, Grey saw a short blond man with a bodybuilder’s chest and runic tattoos creeping out of his jacket, up the front of his neck and onto the backs of his hands.

  While Emil paid, Grey texted Jax.

 

 

 

  <10-4. Will watch for his car>

  Emil left the café. Buzzing with excitement, Grey finished his meal and hurried back to the rented apartment. He paced back and forth, waiting on word from Jax, wondering if Emil had swung down for the day or if something bigger was afoot.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Twenty minutes later, Jax sent him a mysterious text to throw everything into the backpacks. Soon after, the mercenary whipped into the parking lot.

  “Get in!” he said, when Grey appeared at the door.

  Grey grabbed both packs, left the key in the door, and jumped in the car. “What’s up?” he asked, as Jax sped out of the driveway. Two quick turns later and they were on the Ring Road.

  “Emil went in with a package and left empty-handed. I don’t know what was inside—”

  “Chocolate cake.”

  “Huh?”

  “He showed up at my café. How’d you think I knew he was coming?”

  After a pause, Jax said, “I don’t like it.” He slipped on a pair of aviators. “I suppose there aren’t that many bakeries in town.”

  “Probably only one that makes German chocolate cake. How much of a lead does he have?”

  “Five, ten minutes. He’s headed away from Rekyjavik. I wasn’t sure whether to stay with him or pick you up. Maybe he’s turned off already, maybe he’s driving all day.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Getting pulled over for speeding was not much of a threat on the Ring Road. Traffic was light, police officers almost nonexistent, and the open terrain provided visibility for miles. Jax floored the gas and took the Suzuki to a hundred and fifty kilometers an hour, slowing only when the road curved. After fifteen minutes and no sign of the Fortuna, Grey grew distressed. If they lost the trail, they might never pick it up again.

  After passing a tiny settlement of turf-roofed houses nestled into a pat
ch of farmland, they finally caught sight of a red SUV in the distance. Jax pulled close enough to ensure it was the Fortuna, then backed away and followed. Grey texted the license plate number to Sensei and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the hard work had just begun. The isolation and sweeping vistas cut both ways. They had to follow Emil without tipping him off to the tail.

  Jax proved to be an expert reconnaissance man. He kept a steady distance and used the other vehicles for cover. To allay suspicion, he even passed the Fortuna when it stopped at a roadside market, pulling into a scenic overlook until it drove by.

  Grey hadn’t thought it possible, but as they followed the Ring Road east along the southern coastline, sometimes paralleling the sea and sometimes veering a bit further inland, the scenery was even more startling than the route from Rekyjavik to Vik.

  Silver rivers wound through blasted alluvial floodplains; mounds of silt rose like pyramids on the shores of shallow, mazelike fjords; ochre-streaked summits morphed into a boulder-strewn moonscape tucked between volcanoes. They rounded a bend and saw a sheet of immense ice curling down from unseen heights, the tongue of a monstrous glacier licking down the mountain.

  It started to rain. Jax checked his cell when it buzzed. “The car belongs to Gunter Betz, a Norwegian national living in Rekyjavik. Longtime member of Vigrid.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Nordic version of the Aryan Brotherhood. I’ve run across them before.”

  The rain stopped, and mist poured in like a fog machine. They drove through a glacial outwash plain with nothing but fierce winds and swaths of swampy black silt that extended for miles, wide rivers of muck creeping towards the ocean. The region was so bleak and lifeless that Grey felt uneasy just driving through it. The area felt dissonant, out of tune with life, cursed by its maker.

  Still the Fortuna drove on. The desolation of the glacial plain ended, replaced by a vast bed of lava rocks covered in bright emerald moss. A planet-scape of giant green cauliflower stretching to the horizon.

  “I’ve seen a lot of sights,” Jax said. “But this might be the damndest.”

  Grey murmured his assent in a distracted voice, wondering if Charlie had passed that way.

  Two hours on the road, then three. They hugged the coastline as the road wound beneath a series of onyx cliffs bursting with waterfalls. Grey was both excited and troubled by the length of the drive. Either they were getting closer to Charlie, or on a wild goose chase that could sabotage his chances of finding her in time.

  What if Emil was on an unrelated mission? Visiting family, or another girlfriend in some remote town?

  No. This has to be right.

  A sign announced the presence of a glacial lagoon, but it was too dark to see the water. The rain got so bad and the fog so heavy that Grey didn’t know how it was possible to drive much further.

  And no one did.

  Just after the road crossed over the lagoon on a suspension bridge, the Fortuna pulled onto a gravel drive and parked in front of an isolated dwelling. Another of the low, turf-roofed houses they had seen, built to withstand the elements. Behind the house, just visible from the road, a huge barn butted against the base of a hill.

  His stomach fluttering, Grey turned to watch Emil and Gunter leave the Fortuna and approach the house.

  “You think Charlie’s in that barn?” Jax asked grimly.

  “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. Drop me up ahead.”

  “Right now? Why don’t we both go?”

  “I’m not waiting any longer, and I’d rather you be mobile. Keep your phone ready.”

  As soon as the house faded from view, Jax pulled over and let Grey out. Grey stuffed his gun in the holster, zipped his waterproof jacket, and pulled the hood low. He moved off the road and stepped into the spongy, sodden vegetation. Hoping he didn’t plunge into some hidden bog, he crept towards the house, pausing once he saw shadows moving in the windows.

  It was time to watch and wait.

  Huddled in his winter gear, Grey squatted with his back against a low mound and became still, part of the damp earth itself, breathing in the sea air and watching until the lights in the house winked out. He gave it another half hour and then circled around to the back of the barn, staying well out of sight.

  He noticed a Skoda Octavia parked behind the house. The thought that Charlie might be on the other side of the barn wall caused a wave of nervous excitement to surge through him. Please let her be alive.

  No windows on the barn. He was going to have to enter through the side door, in full view of the house. Unable to wait any longer, he took a deep breath and slipped along the wall, keeping his back against the barn. The rain had stopped. The house was still.

  The door was secured with an enormous padlock. Grey took out his tools and bent over the lock, feeling as if a giant spotlight had illuminated a target on his back. When the lock came loose in his hands, he eased the door open, just enough to slip through.

  Darkness. The smell of hay and diesel. Grey yearned to call Charlie’s name, but he had to ensure no guards were inside. Ignoring the light switch and waiting until his eyes adjusted, he crept through the barn on cat’s feet. He walked to the back of the structure and saw nothing except a Nazi flag and a pair of jeeps fitted with snow tires as tall as Grey’s waist.

  Disappointment burned through him.

  After searching the barn, Grey returned to the road and summoned Jax. When the mercenary picked him up, Grey slumped in his seat and detailed his find. Upon reflection, the barn was much too simple a hiding place. Too unguarded, too near the road. He had let his emotions get the best of him.

  Forcing himself to shake it off, Grey warmed his hands and thought about the next step. “We need to get inside that house. Tonight. In case they take those jeeps somewhere.”

  “You said there were two jeeps?” Jax said.

  “That’s right.”

  The mercenary patted his utility belt and gave a thin smile. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  Since they had not seen a hotel for miles and didn’t want to stray too far from the tracking devices Jax had planted on the Fortuna and the two Superjeeps, they decided to grab a few hours sleep in the parking area of the glacial lagoon. Jax’s mouth went slack soon after he reclined the seat, but Grey barely rested, unable to stop thinking about Charlie, jerking awake with every passing car or nighttime sound.

  The next morning, as Jax started the engine and cranked the heat, Grey gazed out at a powdery black beach littered with ice crystals. Some were as big as boulders, glittering in the surf like colossal uncut diamonds. To his right, the suspension bridge spanned a natural canal that connected the ocean to a lagoon filled with calving icebergs, flopping seals, and water so blue it made Grey squint.

  They didn’t have to wait long for the tracking device to activate. Less than half an hour later, Jax’s phone made a sharp beep, and he studied the screen. “They’re on the move. It’s one of the jeeps.”

  Grey caught his breath. “Just one?”

  “Like I said,” Jax said, “my guess is whoever owns the house keeps one around for himself.”

  “Thank God. I assume they’re off the Ring Road?”

  Jax watched his phone for a few moments. “I can’t tell if there’s a road or not, but they’re going straight north. Into the interior.”

  Grey met Jax’s eyes when he looked up. “We’re going in,” Grey said. “Before they get too far.”

  Five minutes later, Grey and Jax left the Vitara beside the Ring Road and walked down the gravel drive to the house where the Toyota Fortuna had stopped. Grey stood to the side of the front door, head lowered and hands in his pockets, as Jax knocked. The road was free of traffic.

  A heavyset woman in a bomber jacket, gray hair tied in a bun, opened the door.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Jax said, “but our car broke down and I was wondering if we could use your phone.” He held up his own phone with a sheepish grin. “No signal.”

&nbs
p; “I do not speak good English,” the woman said, in a heavy Icelandic accent.

  As she started to close the door, Jax grabbed her by the collar and yanked her outside. Just before Grey elbowed her in the head, dropping her like a stone, the woman managed to cry out. “Jón!”

  Grey whipped his gun out and stepped through the door. Jax came in behind him, yanking the unconscious woman inside.

  A huge, bare-chested man came bounding down a hallway, waving a black handgun, trying to pull up his pants as he ran. Grey stepped offline and pointed the gun at his head. “Drop it!”

  “Móðir!” The man shrieked, when he saw the unconscious woman. He pointed the gun at Jax, who lifted the woman as a shield. Grey fired into the wall next to the Icelander, causing him to flinch and raise both hands above his head.

  Quivering with rage, the distraught son looked from his mother to Grey with an expression of pure hatred.

  “She’s fine,” Grey said, as he took the man’s gun and then pistol-whipped him unconscious.

  “What do we do with them?” Jax asked, after they checked the house for more occupants. “As soon as they wake up, they’ll sound the alarm.”

  Grey mulled over the problem. Jax was right. They couldn’t let them alert Dag too soon.

  “I hate to say it,” Jax said, pulling out his gun, “but maybe we should—”

  “Put that away,” Grey snapped, the harshness in his voice masking how much he wanted to do exactly what the mercenary was suggesting.

  “—shoot them in the knee and tie them up.”

  “Just get the car, and we’ll leave them in the trunks. After we get Charlie, we can call it in.” He waved a hand towards the door. “Go, man.”

  As Jax sprinted away, Grey bound the captives with rope he found in the barn, then stuck the woman in the trunk of the Fortuna. When Jax returned, they stuffed the son in the Skoda, just as the Icelander started to stir.

  After throwing open the tall front doors to the barn, they donned a pair of white-and-gray snow-camo suits with fur-lined hoods they found hanging by the door. The harder to pick out their faces, the better. Grey took the wheel as Jax checked the progress of the tracking device on his phone.