“If I may, Sturmbannführer,” one of the soldiers interrupted respectfully, “he was an American of great renown, specializing in the field of electricity and mechanical engineering. Died last year.” The soldier lowered the volume of his voice and bent forward toward the level of Diekmann’s ear, “Nikola Tesla was a close friend of George Viereck, Sturmbannführer.”
That name, however, was very familiar to Adolf Diekmann.
“Ah! A friend of Viereck! And you worked with Tesla?” Diekmann asked, suddenly intrigued.
“Yes, sir,” Purdue nodded, keeping to his mild and kind modesty. But in truth Purdue had no idea who the hell George Viereck was. He only hoped his decent knowledge of Nikola Tesla could give him a bit of an edge over Diekmann. For once he was thankful for the presence of the spiteful and antagonistic guards. Had the soldier not spoken up Diekmann would never have known who Tesla was, rendering Purdue’s alibi worthless.
Diekmann was impressed. His gaunt cheeks fell into deep vertical wrinkles as he grinned with satisfaction. Indeed Viereck was a very prominent supporter of the Third Reich, having interviewed Hitler twice before and having delivered speeches in Berlin in honor of the Führer in his presence. Now he knew that Tesla was an ally, therefore any man who worked with him would be a friend of the Reich.
“So tell me, Herr Purdue, how did you get into the Reichkanzlei?” the officer insisted.
Purdue had to think on his feet. He acted coy and smiled. Speaking under his breath as if he knew the secrets of the universe, he replied, “Please, sir, do not tell anyone yet that we had succeeded. You are the only man I am telling in confidence.”
“Yes?” Diekmann pressed eagerly, too happy to be privy to this information.
“I conducted an experiment for being almost completely invisible,” Purdue confessed.
“Invisible? But how?” Diekmann asked.
“If you do not mind, sir… it is an experiment I wish to perfect so that I can surprise the Führer with a new method to mobilize the troops unseen over borders and into the parliaments of the enemy,” Purdue explained so realistically that he almost believed himself. Suddenly his old streaks emerged, his irresistible presentation that had always won him the support of even the most cynical of minds. “It could revolutionize the art of reconnaissance, intelligence….even assassination.”
“Fantastisch!” Diekmann smiled.
Dave Purdue had found his guile and nerve again. Somehow he thought up the perfect excuse for his arrival in the Reichkanzlei at the drop of a hat. And since the SS, especially Hitler and Himmler, found the mysteries of science and the occult so fascinating it was easy for them to believe that such a thing was indeed possible with the right research and experimentation.
Diekmann fell for it all, but Purdue had to steer this matter in just the right direction or else he would never find Helmut to procure Tesla’s notes before his time ran out. He needed to convince Diekmann that he, Purdue, knew the unknowable. If there was one thing Nina taught him about the secret societies it was that they were suckers for super humans and exceptional characters. And during his stint as Renatus of the Order of the Black Sun he learned a great deal from the Council of high members about the Nazi reverence for godhood or pursuit of it.
“If I may, sir…”
“Yes, Herr Purdue,” Diekmann turned his head slightly as if to listen closely.
Purdue knew this ruse could end tragically for him, and wondered if he should not abandon the idea of stirring things up. But what he was going to have to impart on the commander would be the only way to prove to the SS command that he was in possession of special abilities. In truth he hoped he knew enough about German history to accurately ‘predict’ future events.
“I have another confession.”
“And what is that?” Diekmann asked, looking a bit more suspicious this time.
“Um, I am a bit embarrassed to admit this, but I have this gift since birth… that I can…” he doubted the ridiculous claim he was about to make, being a fervent cynic of it.
“Yes, man! Speak,” Diekmann shouted, having lost his patience at waiting.
“I can predict the future.”
The two guards did everything in their power to keep a straight face while the commander stared at Purdue with a look of disappointment and a tinge of disdain.
“Take him away!” Diekmann shrieked. From both sides the guards seized Purdue and dragged him off. He could not believe that his apparent success had backfired so quickly. His escorts carelessly flung his sore body from one to the other, pushing him hard at the top of the stairs. Purdue staggered down the staircase, steered by the hard grips of the soldiers.
“You worked with Tesla? You can go invisible? Why don’t you do that right now, fool?” one shouted as they corralled him back towards the filthy cell he spent the night in.
“It doesn’t work like that, you imbecile,” Purdue scoffed with a smile. He insisted on keeping his defiance alive by condescending means. If he was going to die he would go out pestering them instead of cowering in a corner and weeping for mercy. For his insolence he received a jab to the face and a kick to the side of his knee which immobilized him completely. Purdue screamed in pain.
“We will be back to shoot you as soon as Sturmbannführer Diekmann gives the order, British swine,” he heard as he was thrown back into the darkness with his rotting roommate. Purdue cried out in agony as his knees hit the cement and his elbow and palms slid under his weight.
‘To hell with this shit!’ he thought. ‘I am attempting the travel back tonight! No more. Nothing is going to save me now that Dickwad smelled a rat!’
Soon after they left him in the desolate black pit of stench to count the hours to his fateful end Purdue prepared to communicate. He intended to make contact only to warn Lydia and Sam that the next connection from him would be his return, provided that it actually worked again. Wincing in excruciating pain from his fresh injuries he kneeled on the floor where he previously placed the BAT. His body throbbed with intense pain, more now from his burned skin, but he did not care. This was one adventure Purdue did not want to continue. He could hardly see anything in the dense oblivion around him and it gave Purdue the sensation of weightlessness, of being lost at sea, in space. Whirling inside his skull his brain assumed that it was afloat in half death — that his body was falling a thousand miles per hour while suspended in a cold womb of madness.
Confusion born from sensory deprivation and untreated pain wrapped itself around Purdue’s reason. Holding on desperately to his mission, his identity and of all things, his sanity, the once fun loving billionaire shed his hope. Only the timid light from under the steel door illuminated a part of the cell floor. The BAT was lying on the ground, but this time he doubted anything would come of his new ritual. In fact, Purdue had no idea if it even made contact with Lydia the first time.
With a weary, shivering sigh he pressed the button for the apparatus which started to glow.
“Here we go,” he said, having not bothered to prepare specific words this time.
The cell lit up like the mid of day, ripping through his eyeballs before he closed his eyes, and he waited for the same hum he established before when he spoke his specific words into the atmosphere around him. Purdue wished that the bright light was his highway through time to get home, but diffused on the edges of the beam he could still see the cadaver with the dirty Dutch flag patched to his putrid coat. “I am in hell. Please God, don’t let me stay behind here,” he remarked at the hopeless sight.
‘We won’t leave you, Purdue.’