Near the end of the Second World War, Hitler ordered Heinrich Himmler to establish a fortress in South America to house Germany’s most closely guarded secrets. Only a handful of the highest ranking Germans and highly trusted scientists and technicians knew of the operation. Many of the people and soldiers involved were murdered when there was no use for them. It was Hitler’s first step to rebuilding the Third Reich, which was crumbling around him thanks to the encroaching Red army and the Americans who were outside of Berlin. The plan was to move all secrets and those responsible for the secrets to a stronghold in Brazil. This site would become a base for reviving the Reich and provide a safe place for Hitler, Himmler and their inner circle to survive the inevitable downfall of Germany. They had moved tons of gold and other valuables as well as several key scientists who worked on their sinister projects back in the 1940s. Each scientist was given everything they needed to fulfill their experimental needs. For some that included money and specialized equipment. For others it included people, guinea pigs for experimentation. All was furnished by Grimme’s Fortress.
The complex was huge. It had taken almost forty years to fully construct. Loosely based on the Nazi structures built in Germany, everything had been brought into the jungle, all building supplies as well as workers. That was no easy task without leaving a huge trail right to the complex. So work was done slowly and meticulously to ensure secrecy. The result was a near state-of-the-art scientific complex spanning several acres but wholly underground, hidden from all view.
The deepest basements were ten stories below the level of the jungle floor. Housing over 350 carefully selected and trained personnel, the present personnel included the children and grandchildren of the original group brought over from Germany before war’s end. They were augmented by highly trained, dedicated Germans handpicked for their knowledge and skills. Each was trained explicitly in their crafts, from cooks to nuclear scientists. They only knew this place, this life. Only a very few trusted personnel ever left the fortress and then only for very specific reasons. They usually returned within days. All of the inhabitants were fanatically dedicated to the rise of the Fourth Reich, a new Germany deep within Brazil’s jungles.
The most important of the Nazi’s secrets were housed here. Brought over from the Third Reich, these confidences were the engine that kept this society going and growing. The initial caches of gold were brought over from Europe in 1945. That cache had financed their work until now. Now that treasure was added to the gold being produced now. Produced, not mined. Gold was produced by a process that would provide this society with inexhaustible power.
Randall sat up hearing a noise outside of his cell. He heard another door slam and voices.
“Hey, let me out!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Get me the hell out of here!”
There was no reply, just silence. After about thirty seconds, the door lock clicked and it flew open. A large guard burst in. Randall tried to stand but the guard slammed him against the back wall of the cell. Randall saw stars; his head had smacked the stone hard. As he tried to regain his wits and stand again, a large fist slammed into his face, then another. He fell back on the floor. A second guard lifted him up while the other guard grabbed Randall’s arms and pulled them back. Randall looked up as a large hard rubber bludgeon smashed into his face. Blood spattered the near wall.
Before he could recover another blow came and then another. He was thrown to the floor again. He never saw the boot that kicked him hard in the side, breaking two of his ribs. Nor did he see the boot that slammed him between the legs, right in the balls. Randall’s world exploded in excruciating pain as his vision flashed to a blinding white and then faded to black. He was out cold. But that did not stop the guards. For five more minutes they beat Randall’s face and body. Punch after punch after punch until his face was a bloody mess. But thank God, he did not feel it. The two guards threw him in the corner and left him. They never said a word. Maas watched from the cell entrance.
“Very good,” he said to the guards, smiling as he handed them a towel to clean Randall’s blood from their hands and face. “That should keep him quiet for a while.”
Within minutes there was a visit to Manolo’s cell. The same two guards walked into the cell and pulled him up to a standing position. Manolo stood there scared to death.
Before he could say anything one of the guards swung a two-foot long iron bar, smashing it into Manolo’s left knee. The force of the blow crushed Manolo’s knee and he screamed in pain as he hit the floor.
Manolo’s pain was excruciating. The guard stepped closer and swung the iron bar again. This time it caught Manolo on his left arm, halfway between the elbow and shoulder. The crack was sickening as the bar broke his arm nearly in two. His lower arm was now completely limp, a jagged portion of bone sticking out of a four-inch gash in his arm. Manolo passed out, the pain too severe to endure. As with Randall, the guards did not stop. As one guard held Manolo up the other guard began beating him mercilessly. There were numerous blows to the stomach and ribs and many blows to the face. An unconscious Manolo did not feel the punishment but would definitely feel it later. The two guards threw Manolo into the corner of the room against the stone wall and walked out of the cell leaving him broken on the floor. Again Maas stood at the door smiling.
Both men had been brutally beaten. Both were left to endure their pain alone. Now it was Dana’s turn. There was to be no letup for a woman.
Maas and his two henchmen walked down the corridor and turned the corner. They went down one level and through a heavy steel door. They arrived outside of Dana’s cell. Maas was very, very good at what he did. He enjoyed inflicting pain. He especially enjoyed inflicting pain on women. A complete sadist and sexual deviate, Maas was well suited for the position of captain of the guards. The job required blind adherence to orders no matter what the consequence. That was easy for him; the worse the order, the better. His orders from Kaete Grimme were to inflict pain. He relished such an order.
The guards opened Dana’s cell. She stood up and stepped forward.
“Who are you and why are you holding us here?” asked Dana, stepping forward, expecting some semblance of decorum from her captors. She hoped and prayed Randall and Manolo were not dead already. There was no response. One guard stepped into the cell and grabbed Dana by the shoulders and turned her so she faced the far wall. She tried to struggle but the guard was too big, too strong.
“Leave me alone!” she screamed. “Let me go!”
The second guard stepped around and slapped Dana hard across the face. She gasped at the strike and stars filled her eyes. The strike from his huge hand left a bright red handprint across her face. Before she could recover, the next blow landed; a massive punch to her stomach. The punch knocked the breath out of her and her knees buckled. Her eyes bulged. Tears leapt from her eyes. She could not breathe. The first guard grabbed her by the back of her shirt collar with one hand and by her short hair with the other, holding her face out for punishment. Her arms hung limply at her side as she tried desperately to catch her breath.
What followed was pathetic even for these men. Held by the guard’s iron grip, the second guard began beating Dana with his fists. Each blow smashed into her face, breaking her nose, bloodying her face and swelling her eyes. Somewhere during the continuing beating, she too passed out. After receiving more than a dozen blows, the guards threw her limp body down to the floor and stomped and kicked her torso. Then they simply walked out of the cell. She was left alone again. Maas closed the cell door laughing quietly. The bitch had better be glad I didn’t use a fan belt on her!