It’d make sense that a group with the financing of the Sixth Seal would have worked on several different ventures down here. Medical experiments weren’t anything new to the Nazis, either. Nor were they an untouched frontier for their Axis allies, Imperial Japan. Both groups had performed abhorrent experiments on not only their prisoners but also their own soldiers.
The SS and Japan’s Unit 731 were the worst of the worst, and leading the Nazi charge was the Angel of Death himself, Josef Mengele. Just the thought of being in a place like this, surrounded by medical equipment used by Nazi scientists, made Zahra’s skin crawl.
“But it wasn’t just you, was it?”
The question had been for the Nazis as a whole. This wasn’t just a secret Nazi facility, though they did seem to be the central cog. The Americans and Soviets had happily taken part in all this, too.
But to what end? Zahra wondered.
Like the South Wing, this space also possessed an elevator back to the upper levels. Zahra did a quick lap around the lowest level first before boarding the lift. The only things down here, besides another split in the floor, were crates of unused vials, syringes, gloves, and aprons, among other similar items.
She also found a foursome of soiled hospital gurneys.
The elevator clunked into place on the next floor up. Zahra stepped off and noticed that the right-hand portion of the catwalk was portioned off into what looked like offices. Bingo. Offices meant administration. Admin meant files — information. And Zahra desperately needed more information.
“Let’s hope they left in a hurry.”
The office wall facing the central cavity was made entirely of glass. It was broken in some places but nowhere near where Zahra was now. She started around the catwalk. Twenty feet later, she came to her first obstacle: a fogged glass door. A single word had been printed on the glass. It was in the combined language they’d discovered, the mix of English, German, and Russian, and read, “PRIVATE.”
She tried the knob and was tickled to find it unlocked. That was good, but not all that important. She could have easily smashed the glass and reached inside to unlock it. If it had been a solid interior door, the aged deadbolt would have bent to the will of a bullet.
She entered a room sporting eight unimpressive desks. Upon taking a glance around, she doubted this was where the juiciest of juicy data would have been kept. The desks here were situated facing the center of the room with a walkway down the middle. Around each desk were basic, two-drawer file cabinets. It all seemed… administrative.
No leader would have buried their darkest secrets in a place like this. Still, if she had the luxury of time, she’d have thoroughly combed through all the cabinets. Instead, Zahra skipped them all and headed for a second door, one that led deeper into the facility.
“Whattaya bet…”
Zahra had a feeling this was where the pot of gold had been hidden. Why else would there be a door and wall separating workstations? She crossed the first room and tried the next doorknob. It didn’t budge.
“Of course you’re locked.” She drew her pistol and aimed it at the keyhole. “That’s a shame.” Zahra really hated defiling history.
She pulled the trigger and sent the nine-millimeter round flying. It didn’t pierce the doorlock entirely, but it did jostle it around enough to splinter the doorframe. Zahra stepped back and drove her foot into a spot two inches to the left of the knob. The impact forced the compromised door inward with a bang.
She holstered her sidearm and stepped through. This space was much more elegant than the last. Nevertheless, it was still dilapidated and covered in a layer of filth. The wall opposite the all-glass surface contained nothing but books from floor to ceiling.
More interesting than that was the fact that this office only contained one desk.
She smiled and hurried to it. Once she crossed the area between the door and the desk, she slowed and calmed her skyrocketing excitement. She loved this. The anticipation of what she might find was killing her.
“Better than a bullet.” Her skin broke out in goosebumps. “Or the cold.”
This desk — this office — belonged to a man of influence. The interior was lush and comfortable. Two equally inviting chairs sat facing it. Meetings were held here, it seemed. A framed map of Antarctica hung on the rear wall. Red pins pocked the map’s three-by-three-foot surface.
Explored areas?
Everything atop the desk had been left as it was. Nothing was tossed or scattered. To Zahra, it felt as if this room’s owner had expected to return. If not, then she would have expected a few of the belongings to have been brought along. She eyed a family photo, left, abandoned. It highlighted a man, woman, and child. She didn’t recognize any of them, and the man wasn’t in uniform, though she was pretty sure the scene behind them was of downtown Berlin.
She tested the chair before she sat. It was an eerie feeling, for sure. She wondered if this was Dietrich Krause’s office. She might’ve been sitting at a workspace that once belonged to a very powerful Nazi general.
And a founder of the Sixth Seal.
Her eyebrows lowered as she thought. This being Krause’s office didn’t make sense. He wasn’t a man of medicine. He’d been a top-level engineer. The aeronautics division would have suited him better.
“Unless this was the only office space available, and you’re looking too far into it.”
Zahra rubbed her tired face and opened the top right-hand drawer. It protested the movement at first but eventually popped free. Inside were run-of-the-mill office supplies. She was about to close it but thought back to her desk at the museum. Zahra once had a knife hidden inside. It had been magnetized to the underside of its top. She reached in but found nothing.
Dang.
The bottom-right drawer yielded much of the same.
As did the top-left drawer.
Frustrated, Zahra ripped the bottom-left drawer open and was surprised when the handle tore free. The lack of weight in her hand caused her to hurl the loose handle at the back wall. It clinked off the map’s glass facing and rebounded and smacked her in the back of the head.
“Suppose I deserved that.”
Zahra looked over her shoulder and saw that the handle had cracked the frame’s protectant. She cringed but relaxed when she remembered that the room’s owner was long dead. Zahra checked to make sure she wasn’t bleeding before beginning her search anew.
She found more nothing. She slammed the drawer shut but paused any additional tirades. Something within the empty drawer shifted forward. It wasn’t much, but it had been there.
Zahra opened the drawer again and pushed out of the chair. She knelt and inspected the bottom drawer closer, feeling around inside. For shits and giggles, she opened and shut the drawer a second time, giving it a little juice when she did.
She beamed when the grinding noise started up again.
“Oh, you clever boy.” She reopened the drawer, unsheathed her knife, and dug at the inside corners. Zahra knew a false bottom when she saw one. “Come on… you bastard.” She couldn’t get the edge in deep enough to do much of anything except chip the wood.
Zahra growled. “Be that way.” She chewed her lip for a moment, wishing there was another way. Finally, she shrugged. “Fine. History be damned.” She stood, ripped the drawer free, and slammed the bottom of it on the corner of the desk. As a result of the initial blow, the family photo shook, then harmlessly fell face-first onto the desktop. It took Zahra a couple of tries before the entire drawer was turned to kindling.
But it worked.