
Wall of Secrets

Book One of the Vital Secrets Series

D.F. Hart
The Vital Secrets Series

Wall of Secrets

Book of Secrets

List of Secrets

Web of Secrets

Path of Secrets – Fall 2020

Carnival of Secrets – Spring 2021

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# COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2019 by D.F. Hart

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019905749

ISBN: Softcover 978-1-7330454-0-7

eBook 978-1-7330454-1-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Custom Cover Design and Artwork commissioned for D.F. Hart by:

Jennifer Givner of Acapella Book Cover Design

Find her at www.acapellabookcoverdesign.com%5Cwww.acapellabookcoverdesign.com)

5/31/19

Published 2019 by 2 Of Harts Publishing

Arlington, Texas

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# Acknowledgements

I would very much like to say a heartfelt "Thank you" to:

My husband Rick, who for a time becomes a 'writing widower' when I get rolling.

My family and friends, who patiently and with enthusiasm endure more than one round of "hey, read this for me and tell me what you honestly think".

Lastly, to friend and fellow author A.W. Exley, who spoke truth to me and encouraged me to follow my dreams.

I could not have done this without your support.

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# Foreword

"Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it." -George Santayana

With Hitler's defeat in 1945 came a Germany divided into four sections, each occupied in turn by the British, the French, the Americas, and the Soviets. This had been decided upon by the inter-Allied European Advisory Committee. Berlin itself was at first divided into three zones; later a fourth was carved out for the French. The Soviets arrived first in Germany's capital and used various tactics to stall the other Allied powers from reaching their agreed-upon zones. The other Allied nations were finally granted access to their zones of Berlin around eight weeks after the war had ended.

The American, British, and French zones began the daunting task of restoring day-to-day life activities to the people of Germany in their sections. The Soviet zone was equally as energetic about reviving a political system with a decidedly Communist bent in its sector. Enter Walter Ulbricht, a native German firmly entrenched in Communist thinking. To quote Frederick Taylor's "The Berlin Wall" – "It was clear from the first day that Ulbricht and his band were tools of the occupiers" (Taylor, 2006, Pg. 41). Ulbricht, as Stalin's mouthpiece in Germany, presented many challenges to the Allied powers; in this author's opinion these challenges were blatant attempts to get the Allied powers to leave Germany. Among the more famous incidents is the "Berlin Blockade", which lasted from June the twenty-fourth 1948 until May the twelfth 1949. The Soviet-controlled zone attempted to halt any supplies coming in to West Berliners. This missive was unsuccessful, as Americans and Brits took to the skies to deliver much-needed rations, with the help of use of airfields in the French sector. This action was later dubbed the "Berlin Airlift".

In the first twelve years, 1945 to 1957, the Soviet zone lost approximately one-sixth of its population to the West. The main reasons for this were, quite simply, a better, less restrictive standard of living and a new currency, the Deutschmark (D-mark), which was not undervalued like the Reichsmark still being used in East Germany. On the twenty-sixth of May 1952 East Germany erected a literal border around its entire territory – except its section of Berlin. Berlin remained open and relatively passable between the four zones. There were checkpoints, to be sure, but freedom of movement still occurred, as evidenced by the approximately 60,000 East Berliners who commuted to the West each day to work.

In 1953 Ulbricht asked yet again for permission to finish 'securing' East Germany by closing off the Soviet section of Berlin from the rest of the city. Stalin gave the green light for this, but before any plan could be enacted to make the Berlin border a reality, Stalin suffered a massive stroke and died on March fifth. His successor, Nikita Khrushchev, halted the plan to extend a physical barrier through Berlin itself.

By mid-1961, however, the hemorrhage of population from East over into West had reached dangerous levels. Ulbricht and his Soviet masters agreed something had to be done. The plan, codenamed 'Rose', was dispatched with precision and was completed within twenty-four hours. On Sunday August 13, 1961, the first in what would become a series of obstacles was placed to cut off East Berlin from West Berlin – approximately ninety-six miles of razor-topped barbed wire. An additional, more solid structure comprised of concrete was erected in 1962, about one hundred yards away from the original fence. By 1975 the 'Wall' would actually be comprised of three separate stand-alone concrete structures; a devil's playground of mines, razor wire, and other booby traps situated between the walls and alternately referred to as 'no-man's land' or the 'kill zone'; in addition to armed guards and light towers.

As it was intended to, the Wall restricted travel. It also literally ripped families apart. As shown in the 1962 documentary "The Wall", East Berliners daring to even wave at their loved ones over in the West could be severely punished or killed. Some East Berliners living in taller buildings in proximity to the Wall jumped from upper-story windows to reach the West. Shortly afterward, the East German authorities had any west-facing windows in these buildings bricked up, and razor wire installed along the rooftops. Those seeking to leave East Berlin for West Berlin had three equally dangerous choices – 'run the gauntlet' of walls, wires, mines, and armed guards; tunnel underneath all the madness and hope to come up in a Western zone; or, as two families successfully did, find the means to literally fly over the Wall structures. Between its inception on that fateful day in 1961, and its demolition in 1989, some 170 people perished trying to reach freedom in the West.

Historical Data in Foreword retrieved from:

De Hoog, Walter. 1962. _The Wall_. Video Documentary.

Taylor, Frederick. 2006. The Berlin Wall: A World Divided, 1961 – 1989. Harper Collins.

# Author's Note:

As a college freshman, I watched, along with the rest of the world, the extraordinary events taking place in November 1989 in Berlin. I suppose like many of my generation, while I understood that the Wall coming down was significant, I really didn't grasp the full impact of what the Wall being built in the first place had really meant. As I have aged (hopefully gracefully!), I have now come to understand that the Wall was a very real symbol of oppression and of dominance, a huge flash point in the onset of the Cold War, a demarcation not only of geography and territory but also of communism versus democracy.

But I asked myself – What if someone who wanted the Nazi movement to resurge had placed vital documents into the Wall for safekeeping? What if that someone retrieved those documents when the Wall fell, and set their plan in motion? **What if**?

And now, dear reader, please join me in exploring one possible answer to those questions.

_D.F. Hart_

# Prologue

Bella sighed to herself as she waited in the baggage claim area of Phoenix International Airport. She checked her watch – almost eight-thirty p.m. Her grandfather's plane was right at an hour late; it was supposed to have landed at seven-thirty. _It figured_ , she thought. In mid-December the East Coast was usually experiencing some sort of weather hazard that disrupted travel. But in Arizona, the weather was almost always beautiful. Except the dust storms, of course – she could live without those just fine.

It meant a lot to her that Grandpa Manfred was braving the elements and flying out to keep her company on the drive back to Virginia. She had just finished her second year of classes and finals and was looking forward to the month-long break before wading into her junior year. Bella Amsel had inherited both her intense interest in and natural gift for languages and her lanky frame from her grandfather; her dark hair and stunning blue eyes, however, were a gift passed down from Rose, her grandmother. It had been heartbreaking for them when Rose died that January. Christmas 2009 would be the first without her, and it would be hard on Manfred and Bella both.

The loudspeaker announcing the baggage designation for flight 856 from D.C. broke her reverie. As the luggage carousel wheezed to life, she began to scan the passengers coming through the turnstile, and at last she saw him.

"Grandpa!" Bella exclaimed, hurling herself into the outstretched arms.

"Hello, my Bellissima," Manfred replied, hugging her tightly. Bella giggled like a little girl at the old pet name.

The carousel finally offered up his bag, and arm in arm they headed for the car, talking and laughing, oblivious to the man following them from a short distance. The man kept his eyes on Manfred. If the Amsels had been paying attention, they would have noticed the gaze and that it was intentional and most definitely menacing. But they were not paying attention.

Bella and Manfred climbed into her Nissan Titan, left the airport, and headed back toward the University. Bella had an off-campus apartment within walking distance of the college. Three cars behind, a nondescript Ford Tempo kept pace.

"I thought we'd drop your bag off and then go have dinner, Grandpa. I'm already packed for the trip home, so tonight we can just relax and visit," Bella announced. Pulling into one of the empty spaces in front of her building, she put the truck in park.

As Manfred reached for his bag, he said, "How about Italian tonight? My treat." And was rewarded with a huge smile – Italian cuisine was Bella's favorite.

As they exited the truck and walked into the building, they did not notice the Tempo pull over to the curb on the opposite side of the street and turn its headlights off.

The old man watched them go in, then turned to his companion. "Mikel," Adolf said to the young man, "it must look random, accidental."

# SECTION ONE:

# Berlin – 1961 - 1962

# MITTE DISTRICT, EAST BERLIN 

# CHAPTER ONE

It was the twelfth of April 1961, almost noon, and Manfred Amsel was a deeply worried man. He paced back and forth, back and forth, across the worn linoleum of the waiting room. His wife, Rose, was in labor a full two weeks early. Prayer after silent prayer went up as naturally as breathing. He ran his hands yet again through his hair, fumbled for yet another cigarette almost as an afterthought, every fiber of his being willing his wife and child to be all right somewhere behind closed doors.

After what seemed an eternity, the doctor appeared, tired but smiling. "They're both just fine," Dr. Strauss said, laying a kind hand on Manfred's shoulder. "You'll be able to see them within the hour. I shall want to keep them for a few days, just to be sure. After that, you can take your little family home." And the doctor walked away to a well-earned cup of coffee and a cigarette of his own.

Through his tears of joy, Manfred managed to light his cigarette, albeit with a shaky hand. He walked out into the sunshine, smiling and crying, a proud new papa. Life was complete.

Manfred had been the cause for his father's same happy tears in 1920 in Berlin. His father, a mathematical genius, had sobbed with joy at his son's arrival on that cold winter day. An only child, Manfred's parents doted on him constantly, took him everywhere, and exposed him as much as possible to the arts. He was reading newspapers aloud to his father over breakfast by the time he was four, and by the age of nine firmly announced his intention to be a professor of world literature at Berlin University. Hitler's ascension to power, first as Chancellor in 1933, then as President in 1934, put an end to that plan.

Manfred's parents, outspoken intellectuals who did not agree with or wish to conform to Nazi ideals, were worried both for themselves and for their only son. Mother, perfectly balanced between sentiment and practicality, wanted to pack up the entire house but realized it was not possible. Some cherished things would have to stay behind. She woefully confined her efforts to clothes, family pictures, and a few mementos that could be easily fit into the suitcases. Taking a last look at what amounted to years of memories, she whispered a prayer of protection for her family and for the house as they locked the front door, possibly never to return. In this manner in mid-1934 the Amsels left their beloved homeland and their small but cozy home, heading first for Amsterdam.

For all the stress of the preparation to leave, the trip itself was uneventful, a welcome surprise. They traveled to and through Amsterdam with no trouble at all, and booked passage on a steamer to England. Safely out of harm's way, or so they thought, they continued much as they had been – mother as a housewife and highly talented painter, father as a mathematics professor. Manfred continued to receive outstanding marks in school, despite the move, and was accepted into the University of Oxford on scholarship in 1937. Manfred used the time and opportunity well and attained a Master's in World Literature in 1941 at the age of twenty-one. He also proved proficient in languages, adding fluent English, French, and Russian to his native German. These would later prove to be more valuable than the degree.

In addition to his academic prowess, however, Manfred also possessed a kind and gentle heart and an unwavering sense of right and wrong. It angered him to the core to hear reports of what Hitler's Germany was up to, and he grieved heavily for his homeland, in the arms of a madman, ripped asunder. He vowed privately to someday return to Berlin and do whatever he could to help restore Germany to a peaceful and harmonious nation. And after his parents were killed in the Luftwaffe bombing blitz of London in September 1940, he had also vowed to do whatever it took to wipe the filth of Nazism off the face of the earth forever. This line of thinking led him quite naturally into the British intelligence community, who put him to good use as he could fluently speak, read, and write four languages, including that of the enemy. He individually pursued a doctorate in World Literature when he was not busy providing translation services for the Allied effort.

This entrance into the war effort also landed him what would become a lifelong friend. He met Max Jones quite by accident one day in February 1945 as he was heading to a routine briefing with his superior, Michael Smythe. The subject matter, as usual, was to discuss the results of his day's translation of intercepted German messages. When he arrived at Michael's office, he found one of the guest chairs already occupied. The stranger that rose from it and extended his hand in greeting turned out to be a young American Army intelligence officer who was assigned to a joint task force composed of Brits and Americans. Brown-haired, suntanned, with an easy grin and piercing green eyes, Max Jones had a laid-back Texas personality that Manfred immediately took to.

Michael explained that the task force needed not only a top-notch translator, but someone who would be willing to return to Berlin 'once this bloody war ends' and be the eyes-and-ears on the ground there, as it were. They informed Manfred that the inter-Allied European Advisory Committee had decided in 1944 that once Germany was defeated, it was to be divided into four zones of control – Soviet, French, Britain, and American. Max went on to say that if certain things went the way the Allies hoped, Berlin would fall before the year's end – but there was a bit of concern that if the Soviets arrived in Berlin first, they might make life a bit difficult for the other Allied powers.

So, the task force needed someone, a native German with impeccable credentials, someone who could set up shop in the Soviet zone without attracting attention. This individual would be depended upon to pass information from the Soviet zone to the American and British zones if needed. Max and Michael believed Manfred was ideal because he also spoke French, English, and Russian. Would he do it?

Without hesitation, Manfred agreed. With one condition. "I have no training whatsoever, gentlemen. If you will remedy that so I can properly defend myself if necessary, you have a deal." Manfred stated solemnly.

Max grinned and replied, "Absolutely, Professor. I'll have you shooting through the ace of spades at fifty paces!"

And so, Manfred went through an abbreviated version of combat training and 'spy school' condensed into one program. Although not detailed enough to render him a walking lethal weapon – Manfred was willing but there was not enough time - the training did involve firearms and self-defense, in addition to comprehensive instruction in sending and receiving coded messages, dead drops, and other crucial data he would be much more likely to use. Manfred once again proved a top student, including attaining marksman status on the pistol range. The Professor was now loaded for bear should the worst occur.

Manfred Amsel began the journey home to Berlin in early 1946, both as a professor and, if all went well, as an inside source within the Soviet sector for the British and Americans. He stopped in the American sector of Berlin to touch base with Max Jones for last minute instructions, and to set up some basic drop schedules for routine messages. A radio transmitter and a weapon would be passed to him when it could safely be done, a piece at a time if necessary.

Upon his return to the Mitte district of the Soviet sector, he found his family's little home on Wilheim-Pieck largely unscathed, a sentiment that could not be echoed through much of the rest of Berlin. Fate seemed to have held the house of his childhood ready for his homecoming. There was one patch of roof that needed mending and the garden beds along the front were horrendously overgrown. The entire house smelled of dust and age and was badly in need of a thorough cleaning and painting, but overall, he counted himself lucky. So many other buildings were at least partially destroyed. Four lots down, two other houses had been literally blown away – a blackened crater and debris the only evidence they had existed.

He found the interior only in minor disarray; it evidently had been used to billet soldiers at some point before the Soviets housed their forces in larger accommodations. Crude bunk beds had been installed in the tiny loft bedroom where he used to sleep. He guessed the time and trouble to retrieve them was not worth the effort because they were still in place. In the living area and bedroom downstairs, some of the family furniture had been stacked against one wall to enable still more bunk beds to be put into service, judging from the marks on the floor. The rest of the furniture, he assumed, must now grace some Soviet officer's quarters.

Quietly settling in, he did his best to keep out of the way but to listen and observe as much as he could. No one in the Soviet sector knew he could speak, read, and write Russian. As a result, he could be sitting in the café, reading his paper, pretending not to notice as two young occupying soldiers at the next table talked in their native tongue. Manfred understood every word they said, although he gave no sign. Eavesdropping, while pretending not to, turned out to be extremely useful. On June eighteenth, 1948, he communicated to his friends in the American sector using a dead drop. He relayed information he had heard about a blockade intended to cut off West Berlin's inbound supply routes. The only thing Manfred did not overhear was when it would start, but from the conversation he felt it was likely imminent. What later became known as the "Berlin Blockade" began on June the twenty-fourth.

He found that Humboldt University had reopened its doors, went and spoke to the chancellors, and was immediately taken on as one of its professors. The lifetime goal of teaching in Berlin had been achieved, although not in the way Manfred had dreamt it. In 1947, the University began to experience inner turmoil. The division ensued due to roughly half of the faculty and students being resistant to the Communist tone the University was espousing. Consequently, Freie Universität of Berlin was founded in December 1948 in the American Zone. Attaining teaching positions with each college would give Manfred the excuse he needed to be able to travel much more freely, but it had to look like it was beneficial to Communism or it would not be allowed.

As he had been teaching there for about two years, he felt bold enough to approach Humboldt's chancellors and humbly ask permission to teach both there and at the new University in the West. He needed to convince them that cooperation between the two universities could not only enhance Communist teachings in the East but persuade some individuals to return from the West. "One cannot proclaim Communist superiority without first drawing examples from the decadent West," he exclaimed. And to his surprise, his bosses, and their Soviet handlers, agreed.

Permission was granted.

He uttered those words at great personal cost. Manfred fervently embraced the idea of democracy with all his heart. But for his personal safety, to maintain the ability to teach young minds in East Germany about other points of view, and to be able to continue to pass information westward, he had to pretend to cling to Communist beliefs. His parents did not raise a fool. So Manfred also became an 'intellectual' spy within academia. But his public stance enabled him to travel more freely among the Zones, and more importantly, generate and maintain valuable contacts in the American and British sections of the city.

Thanks to new Freie Universität credentials, the Soviet border guards no longer looked at him so closely – he became a regular fixture to and from through both Checkpoint Charlie at the American border and at Tiergarten, the beginning of the British zone. Every third or fourth trip he carried back into Soviet territory one piece of what would become his wireless radio transmitter. By the end of 1949 he had a fully functional independent means of contact, to be used for emergencies only. By the end of 1950 he also was in possession of a Walther .380 and one hundred rounds, also for emergencies only.

1952 saw the Soviets border off their entire section of Germany from the West - with the exception of the Soviet zone of Berlin. The Soviets thought they had caught the West unaware with this move. The Americans and Brits had in fact known about it roughly a week before it happened – thanks to Manfred, and two unwitting accomplices in the form of lower-level Russian soldiers complaining about their weekend passes being cancelled.

In early June 1954, on a brilliantly sunny afternoon, Manfred crossed into the American zone and was making his way toward Freie Universität to introduce his junior-level students to the works of Tolstoy. As he walked along, he was looking down at his notes for the day's lecture. Preoccupied, he walked straight into the person that would complete his world. Rose Meyer was an ethereal beauty, a petite twenty-four-year old brunette, with cornflower blue eyes that captured his heart the moment he looked into them. It was, literally, love at first sight. In that moment, he knew she was his future. He met and was immediately approved of by her parents, courted her passionately, and proposed on their seventh date. With an angelic smile, she accepted.

The Meyers had relocated to the West right after Berlin fell. They understood the forces at work politically, and that Manfred's public stance was not his true heart, but necessary to maintain. Manfred and Rose's father Klaus had many private discussions about the marked differences in East and West Berlin. Klaus was amazed that East Berlin itself had not yet been hidden behind a barrier, as the rest of the Soviet zone had been in 1952. He cautioned Manfred to be vigilant in his dual role, but also to be ready when the time came to abandon the pretense and come to the West permanently.

June fourth, 1955 saw the happy couple married in the old and very beautiful Church of Reconciliation on Bernaur Strasse. It was the first and last time that Klaus and Emilie Meyer set foot in the Soviet zone since they left it ten years earlier. Rose, as beautiful as she already was, simply took Manfred's breath away when she walked down the aisle to him on her proud father's arm, dressed in her mother's wedding gown. As they stood together, reciting before God and family their wedding vows, they made a perfect couple – she small and slender, dark hair enhanced by her white gown, and blue eyes radiant with happiness; him tall and lanky, salt-and-pepper beginning at the temples of wavy black hair, and piercing chocolate brown eyes wet with emotion as he took this woman to be his wife.

After some thought, Klaus agreed that for Manfred to keep up appearances as a happy Communist, it would be necessary for Manfred and Rose to reside in the Soviet sector after the wedding. Manfred and his new bride returned to his family home in the Mitte district, on Wilheim-Pieck not far from the Church where they had been married, settling into life as newlyweds. The next five years were mostly uneventful for the couple, to their secret relief. The Stasi, East Germany's police, were rumored to move swiftly against anyone who opposed Communist views. But Manfred's careful posturing over the last several years rendered him above suspicion.

Occasionally Rose would accompany her husband on trips into the American sector and visit with her family while Manfred was teaching classes. During one visit in late September 1960, Rose and Manfred announced to her family that their first child was on the way, due sometime around the first of May. Rose's parents erupted with joy. Klaus beamed as never before at the news he would become a grandfather, but he also worried deeply for his only daughter and his son-in-law, whom he loved as his own. He reiterated to Manfred the need to have a plan in place to escape permanently to the West 'should the worst happen'. Neither man had any idea at the time how prophetic his stance would be.

Manfred awoke at two a.m. on April twelfth, 1961 to the sound of Rose moaning. Sitting upright in bed, he discerned through eyes still filled with sleep that his wife was standing in the doorway between the bath and bedroom, leaning against the doorjamb, attempting to call to him as contraction after contraction coursed through her petite but very pregnant body. After a few precious seconds ticked by, his brain registered what was happening. All six feet of him leapt from the bed to his wife in the doorway in one bound, with surprising agility and grace. As the contraction subsided Rose raised her beautiful, lightly sweat-glistened face to him and whispered with a little smile, "I think we ought to go now."

Even if the hospital were across town rather than a few blocks away, Manfred would still have gotten Rose there in the speed of light. He drove as fast as he dared to with such precious cargo. When they finally, in his estimation, reached the front entrance, he abandoned all protocol and parked directly at the curb. In truth it had only been about ten minutes since he had gingerly helped his wife to the car at their home, but it felt like a lifetime. He helped Rose out of the car just as another contraction was beginning. Manfred picked her up, and carrying her as he would a china doll, carefully made his way up the steps to the nurse's station just inside the doors. One look told the two nurses sitting there all they needed to know. A wheelchair was procured, and away went Rose with another brisk but capable nurse to parts unknown.

Manfred had only vaguely been aware of hearing Dr. Strauss' name being paged over the loudspeaker. _That means the doctor is on duty tonight, thank God_ , he thought. _No waiting for the man to arrive_. He turned to the nurses, who had been eyeing him with some amusement, and asked, "What do I do now?"

The older one, who had seen more than a hundred first-time fathers in her career, smiled sweetly and replied, "Just breathe, sir. Let's get these forms filled out and I can show you where the waiting room is."

Manfred finished his cigarette and wandered back into the hospital, past the nurse's station, and down the hall to the waiting room. He had just seen Strauss about half an hour earlier, who told him everything and everyone was doing just fine.

Manfred's relief had been palpable. He knew the baby had not been due until around May first, but Dr. Strauss had assured him that all was well.

"Don't forget, Mr. Amsel," the doctor had said, "due dates are not set into stone, merely educated guesses. Babies come when they are ready."

He had only been back in the waiting room about two minutes when the nice nurse who had helped him with the paperwork appeared.

"Mr. Amsel," she called, smiling. "Let's go see your wife and son, shall we?"

It would be three days before Rose was released from the hospital. The labor had been hard on her slender frame. But she and the baby were both healthy. Manfred thought they together made the most beautiful picture he had ever seen, or ever would. He and Rose decided to name their precious gift Daniel.

***

Through the 1950's, Manfred Amsel had continued to gain respect from the students he taught, at both Universities. While his curriculum at Humboldt was dictated not by the chancellors but by the Soviet-backed regime, he still managed to present the material in such a manner that kept the State happy but also expanded young minds to the idea that there was more than one way to view things. This was quite a balancing act, and he took pride in doing it well.

Only once had he let his personal passion answer for him.

One day in 1955, a young man in one of his discussion groups had become quite agitated and abruptly left the room. Manfred had encountered this young man several times during the semester and enjoyed the thoughtful and well-phrased contributions he made to various discussions. Manfred felt kindly toward him. The exchanges had always been pleasant, so the young man's reaction and sudden departure seemed completely out of character.

It was the day that another student had asked Manfred about his feelings on the Nazi party. Manfred, while taking care to phrase his response carefully, left little doubt for his listeners that he viewed the Nazi movement as a lethal cancer in the world that needed to be destroyed. The young man who suddenly bolted from the room was crimson with repressed rage, and Manfred never saw him at school again. His name was Adolf Werner.

Adolf Werner had been born in Berlin in 1934 to ardent Nazis. They lived comfortably as the third generation of Werners in the family home. His mother was a gifted seamstress who took great pride in making repairs and alterations to Nazi uniforms and insisted on naming her only child after the Fuhrer. Adolf's father was a lifelong friend and confidant of a ruthless man who would one day be prominent in the SS - Ernst Kaltenbrunner. Adolf simply called him Uncle Ernst.

The boy was preternaturally gifted with intelligence, to the level of genius. In this vein he and Manfred Amsel were not very far apart at all. But there the similarity ended. Manfred, along with his parents, loathed Hitler and his Nazis, whereas Adolf's parents signed him into the "Deutsches Jungvolk", the initial intake for German boys into the Nazi Party, as soon as he turned ten. Adolf was furious; he would rather have joined Hitler Youth straightaway to be closer to any real action, but one had to be at least fourteen for that group. He went above and beyond the required 'Nazified' educational curriculum and voraciously read anything and everything concerning the Nazi movement, taking especially to heart as gospel anything written or spoken by Hitler himself. This was encouraged by his parents, who saw in their son a great and dark possible successor to the Fuhrer. And when Adolf's father, on his less and less frequent trips home, would regale him with war stories, the boy was absolutely riveted.

Coupled with Adolf's gift of brilliance was an unfortunate tendency toward extreme sociopathic behavior. He could be as cruel and unfeeling as any hardened SS officer. At the tender age of six, he would befriend and then secretly inform on neighbors that he personally perceived to be unworthy or undesirables to the authorities, whether he had any proof against them or not. Then he would gleefully position himself to watch triumphantly as the families he was helping to destroy were rounded up and sent away, many to their deaths. The only thing keeping Adolf Warner from becoming another infamous Nazi monster was that he simply was not yet old enough to do widespread damage.

The fall of Hitler's regime in 1945 had not only felt like a personal loss to Adolf Werner, but like the snatching away of his birthright. He grieved for the Reich the way a normal eleven-year-old would grieve a close family member. His grief would turn to a dangerous, simmering anger lurking just below the surface of that blond hair, upturned pixie nose, and green eyes. The anger would harden into a profound rage when his father was hauled off by the Soviet invaders and eventually put to death for his role in the SS and for his refusal to renounce his political beliefs.

The Soviets simply did not think to look past the physical appearance, the outer shell of the SS officer's son; they only saw an eleven-year old, fair haired boy. In their defense, on the surface the child's demeanor was average, like any other child caught in a post-war occupation. But this child's mask was superb, hiding a maniacally gifted mind, almost robotic lack of remorse or regret, and a twisted and bent soul well advanced beyond his body's eleven years. He would be satisfied with nothing less than the return of the Reich to its proper place. And so, Adolf hid himself in plain sight. He pretended to listen with rapt attention as the schooling he received from 1946 onward was increasingly overrun with Communist theory. He pretended to embrace the Soviet tormentors as saviors when all the while his psyche was berating them for the vermin he felt them to be.

Adolf started at Humboldt in 1954 and found that for him the force-fed Communist doctrine was not as stifling in college as in primary school, but still definitely present. He continued his façade among other University students very successfully– at least until that day in 1955 when Manfred Amsel skewered his belief system through the heart, and Adolf's façade nearly cracked wide open. He strode quickly from the room, away from the blasphemer, trying to contain the erupting volcano in his head. Manfred Amsel had just unwittingly placed himself in Adolf's crosshairs for revenge. _And_ , Adolf swore with a steely determination, _it was not to be hastily enacted. No. The good professor would be brutally crucified when he least expected it._

***

Manfred, Rose, and Daniel came home from the hospital on the fifteenth of April 1961. Always warm and inviting, the house that Manfred had spent many years in now seemed like a true home thanks to the presence of the love of his life, and their little angel. He sensed his mother and father's presence, and his one regret in it all was that they did not live to see their grandson.

Manfred returned to teaching the following week, and although not as often as before, Rose would still accompany him to the American sector. Daniel's maternal grandparents enjoyed seeing Rose and the baby every chance they got. Through the summer Rose occasionally spent the entire weekend with her family, while Manfred would travel back and forth as needed for classes. One such instance was the weekend of Friday August the eleventh. Manfred had planned on staying all weekend but had to return to the Soviet zone on Saturday for a conference at Humboldt University. Little Daniel was sick with colic, so Manfred hugged and kissed Rose gently, told her to stay and visit with her family, and to expect him back at her parents' house Sunday afternoon.

As usual, Manfred crossed back into East Berlin via public transport. He attended his conference on Saturday afternoon, which involved discussion on the upcoming fall curriculum and class schedules and ran late into the early evening. He made his way home, had a light, simple meal, did some reading in preparation for Monday's class over at Freie Universität in the American sector, and took two aspirin to ward off an approaching headache. He planned to sleep in a little, then rejoin his lovely bride and son at his in-law's house. As he drifted off to sleep, the world was as it had always been. The same could not be said when he awoke.

# CHAPTER TWO

Manfred rose refreshed around ten a.m., with the aspirin taken the previous night having done a splendid job. He showered, shaved, and dressed, then quickly fixed himself a light brunch. Perhaps, he thought, little Daniel would be feeling better today, and they would be able to take a walk with the baby in the stroller later this evening when the temperature cooled a bit. Leaving the house around eleven, he decided the day was not unbearably warm, so he opted to walk rather than drive. Heading to the corner, he turned left onto Brunnenstrasse, and headed north toward Bernaur Strasse. Crossing Invalidenstrasse, he decided to stop and get a paper on his way to public transport, so he would have something to read that did not involve his career.

The paper was obviously Communistic in tone – the good folks running East Germany would have it no other way - but nonetheless from time to time it contained articles, meant to be taken seriously, that Manfred found amusing. He was making polite small talk with the elderly shopkeeper while he waited for his change. The old man asked him what he thought about the wire. Manfred had no clue what the man was talking about.

Alarm bells began to ring distantly in the back of his mind, but he dismissed them. _As loose as Russian soldiers' lips could be, he would surely have heard something_.... he said his goodbyes, and left, his step quickening a bit all by itself.

As he continued to approach Bernaur Strasse and the Church of Reconciliation on his left, he was absolutely dumbfounded to see great, thick rolls of barbed wire running down the middle of the street, passing directly in front of the church. Armed guards stood every ten meters or so, watching construction workers drill holes in the cobbled street to add some sort of fortifying materials to the structure taking shape. Across this growing border was West Berlin, only one hundred yards away. It might as well as have been one mile.

_Surely,_ Manfred thought, _this was some sort of ill-conceived joke. Who in their right mind would run barbed wire down a perfectly passable main thoroughfare?_ But his heart told him that this was no mere exercise. His stomach plunged to his feet as the implications of what he was seeing, but still could not believe, sank in.

He abruptly turned around, heading back toward his home. This time he turned right on Invalidenstrasse, crossed Chausseestrasse and headed for the crossing into the Tiergarten district in the British zone. Upon reaching the border, he was crushed to see not only more wire, but more solid pieces already in place at this border intersection.

This border crossing was a large one for passing from East to West, and in this location, he saw crowds gathered on either side. The faces on the West side, painfully visible from his view, were contorted in anger, and shouting insults eastward at the workers laying wire. The faces all around him on the East side were subdued, as much from the same shock he was feeling as the fact that armed men who looked as if they would enjoy firing their semi-automatic rifles were literally everywhere.

He and Klaus, his father-in-law, had had this discussion more than once. Klaus had previously wondered aloud exactly why the Soviet Zone in Berlin had not been cut off from the West along with the rest of its Zone in 1952. Manfred personally had believed that the Soviets would not be so audacious as to attempt to barricade more than ninety-six miles through the heart of the city itself.

As he was now learning with great personal distress, he had been wrong. His mind reeling, he slowly made his back way to his house. He sat numbly in the living room for a bit before composing himself enough to turn on his Mambo portable radio. Although he could now not reach West Germany, West Germany could still reach him through the airwaves. He let the noise of "Radio Free Berlin" pulse over him as he considered his next move.

In the American sector, Rose was absolutely frantic. A neighbor had been outside earlier that morning and came knocking on the door, babbling frantically about tanks. Klaus raced outside. Rose handed Daniel to her mother and followed her father out the door. They made their way toward Checkpoint Charlie - the crossing between the American and Soviet sectors of Berlin- and were completely amazed at what they saw. East German forces in Berlin had quite obviously been reinforced. Barbed wire was being placed along the East side border, along with menacing looking men with huge weapons.

With tears in her eyes, Rose looked silently at her father, who took her hand, squeezed it tightly, and ever so slightly shook his head. Manfred would not be rejoining them, not today, possibly not ever again. The border closing that Klaus had wondered about for so long was reality.

***

The border closing had caught the average citizen in East Berlin and everyone in West Berlin completely by surprise, because at least this one time a secret plan by the Soviet-backed East German militia and leaders had been successfully kept a secret. Throughout that Sunday and Monday, West Germans who had been visiting in East Berlin over the weekend were allowed to return through specific checkpoints to the West, but not before their identity cards and any possessions they carried were scrutinized very carefully. Manfred began to hear reports that the rail lines and telephone lines - anything connecting East and West - had also been severed with the erection of the border.

He joined the throng on Monday and attempted to go through on foot into Tiergarten, in the British sector. He was told by the East German guards that his Freie Universität credentials had been suspended. He tried again to pass through Checkpoint Charlie into the American sector, and once again the East German guards turned him away. He appealed to the chancellors at Humboldt, to no avail. Manfred did not possess West German papers; his University credentials were his last best hope of making it through legally.

Finally, he decided that this constituted enough of an emergency to get out the transmitter. He retrieved it from the false space he had added up in the loft, set it up, and sent a quickly worded and most definitely coded message to his old friend Max in the American sector. Manfred did not leave the transmitter on to receive one back; he did not expect to. His message had been for informational purposes only.

On Monday afternoon, Max Jones was summoned to the command post in the American sector.

"The Professor made contact, sir," the radio operator said. "It's coded, addressed to Jones, marked ' _eyes only'_." The operator double-checked what he had written down to make sure he had interpreted the signals correctly before handing the paper to Max.

Dismayed, Max looked down at the sheet. Manfred and he had spoken several times about what to do if an emergency arose. They had decided that Manfred would send a brief message. If he needed a response from the American sector, he would sign off with a particular set of symbols that indicated when he would be listening to receive a signal. If those symbols did not appear at the end of the message, it meant that the signal was sent for information only and Manfred did not expect a reply.

This message contained no 'call me back' symbols, as Max and Manfred had jokingly called them. Max frowned. The sooner this could be decoded, the better. He needed to know what was happening not just with a colleague, but with his friend. He took the message to a nearby desk and sat down with a clean notepad.

The cipher Manfred had been taught was a rotating one. In odd years, the beginning letter of the key to break the code corresponded with the fourth letter of the month the message was sent. In even years, it was the fifth letter. In the case of May, the default starting letter was "Y", and in four-letter months, the letter moved to the first.

Setting his cipher key to "U", the fourth letter in August in an odd year, Max transcribed the following: " _Garden fence /bad for gophers/ Kiss the flowers._ " Manfred's message, in straightforward English, meant " _The border has been closed. I will go under it. Tell Rose for me._ " Max strode from the room, the decoded message in his hand, to go tell Rose Amsel what was happening with her husband.

***

After the confrontation with Manfred Amsel that cursed day in 1955, Adolf abandoned school entirely, and focused on work and on his hate. He spent the next six years existing as he had before college, on autopilot, moving through his day-to-day grind as a lowly janitor in one of the Socialist Unity Party's many buildings in East Berlin. He was invisible to and beneath those in power, so he easily gathered interesting bits of data from time to time.

He had known about the 1952 border closing around the entire Soviet sector of Germany before it happened. He also heard about what was going to happen in Berlin in August 1961, and frankly did not care much. He had already walled himself in. At this point he saw no reason why it should impact his plans and dreams. No one in the Party recognized his true nature, which was just as well.

Most nights Adolf spent pacing in his small and sparsely furnished apartment, ranting quietly to himself. When his mother became ill with cancer, he cared for her until her death in December 1961. Although the Soviet occupiers had nothing to do with his mother dying, he added his loss of her to their list of transgressions. Her death was the final blow that pushed him over the edge into carefully disguised insanity. The hate and frustration inside him grew daily, but to his great credit the surface remained, as ever, still and calm.

Adolf Werner was very much aware that nothing within the walls of academia or in his current life would help his beloved Reich return. All that he needed, he thought desperately, was some sort of blueprint to follow, and he would have all the tools required to set the resurrection of the Nazi Party in motion. But in this new Communist state that would be next to impossible.

And he had no one now to confide in. His mother was dead. He had long ago shut himself off from the very few friends he had made, fearing to trust anyone. He wished, yet again, that his father was still alive. Father would know what was to be done; he always had.

And then the thought, brilliant and warm and comforting, slipped into his head.

_Had Mother not lovingly packed away Father's things? Had Mother not, with many tears, locked Father's trunk and asked Adolf to help her move it further back in the attic away from prying eyes?_ Adolf had only returned to live in his parents' home since his mother's death eight weeks before, and frankly had not thought about that great steamer trunk in years. Perhaps the answers he desperately needed could be found there. He had nothing to lose by looking.

***

While Manfred had already decided that the safest way across the Wall was underneath it, the group effort on the tunnel was pure luck. He had been walking past the Church on Bernaur one evening just after dusk on August twentieth when he happened to run into Wilhelm, one of his students. Wilhelm motioned Manfred to follow him.

Once they were both assured of not being seen or overheard, Wilhelm said quietly, "Hello Professor. What brings you out this time of night?"

Manfred had been out scouting a logical location from which to begin digging the tunnel. But Manfred carefully replied, "Just taking a walk, I could not sleep."

Wilhelm leaned in a little closer and whispered, "Some of us are working together to find a way out to the West. We could use your help, Professor."

And Manfred thought for a moment, then answered, "Let's meet on campus in my office; if anyone asks, we are forming a new discussion group. Tomorrow afternoon, say, around two?"

Wilhelm smiled, nodded, and faded into the night.

The following afternoon, the group met as planned. It consisted of Manfred and seven students, including Wilhelm and a very bright eighteen-year-old named Peter. They quietly discussed the border, how quickly it had gone up, and the possibility that it would continue to be fortified. This was extremely likely, given the fact that some East Germans had braved the wire already in broad daylight and in groups. The team needed to assume that more permanent structures would be put into place.

"Therefore, the easiest way to cross would not be through the gauntlet of walls and wires but passing underneath it. We need a tunnel, making sure that we can camouflage the entrance extremely well," Manfred announced.

"What better place than a graveyard?" Wilhelm asked. "People venturing into the graveyard would not be unusual, visiting family plots and so on. Fresh earth or signs of digging will not be suspicious. As long as we are all not there together if we can help it, this might work."

And everyone agreed. After the initial dig, however, the hole would need to be camouflaged. The team all thought about this for a moment.

Peter smiled and exclaimed, "I've got it! How about a funeral arrangement, one of the really big ones? We don't have to buy one; maybe we can make something that looks like one, big enough to cover the hole. We wouldn't need to dig a grave-size hole, it could be smaller, right?"

Manfred smiled despite himself. Peter's enthusiasm was contagious.

"Brilliant idea, Peter, I think you just found a major piece of the puzzle for us." Manfred said. Peter beamed.

"The two most important things," Manfred pointed out, "are that this tunnel will not happen overnight, and that it must be kept absolutely secret. Not even your family members must know about it until right before you use it to get out. If we are caught, we will be fortunate if we are only jailed."

At this, all smiles faded. One look around the room at the seven young and somber faces told him that they all understood and agreed. They worked out a rotating schedule, discussed a few more points, then closed the meeting, each heart now filled with hope and expectation of both hard work and a successful ending.

To make their efforts easier, and to enable more than one or two in the graveyard without arousing suspicion, Manfred went to the Church, where he and Rose had been married and also had been attending services, and volunteered to maintain the graveyard and church grounds. He explained that he and some of his students wanted to help. The pastor was gracious and gladly accepted the offer – like many of the congregation, the groundskeepers had lived in the French district and could no longer reach the Church because of the Wall. The team now could travel to and from the Church grounds on a regular basis without raising too many questions.

The following week the work on the tunnel began. It was slow, but it had to be to keep from attracting attention. Team members would alternate working down in the tunnel to lengthen it and staying above ground to keep watch while mowing, raking, and weeding the graveyard. The team members were all extremely careful to be aware of their surroundings not just at the tunnel site but traveling to and from. These youngsters made Manfred's heart swell with pride. They somehow instinctively knew, without him having to say a word, to check behind them periodically for a tail as they traveled.

None of the team knew that Manfred was in fact an Allied spy in addition to being their professor, and they would never know. All the same, it pleased him to see how sharp and attentive they were to details that could save their lives.

Bit by bit, the tunnel grew. Thanks to growing up with a mathematical wizard for a father, Manfred had been able to calculate the dimensions necessary to complete the task. The surface hole was around three feet in diameter and was camouflaged brilliantly by the funeral arrangement Peter had suggested. The tunnel was approximately five feet down, and gradually widened to five feet at the base of the entrance hole to provide some sort of ability to maneuver. This was mainly for the Professor's benefit as he was the only one over five feet seven inches tall.

The tunnel could not just travel the three hundred feet or so to the other side of the Wall by the Church, then just pop up. One, there was no cover on the West side right across from the church, only open street and sidewalk. The East Germans could not be counted on not to fire into West Berlin if they saw someone magically rise from beneath the street. Two, digging upward by hand through cement or cobblestones would be extremely difficult. No, the tunnel had to run approximately one-third of a mile, coming up into a little park area in the Hiedestrasse area in the Tiergarten district. The trees there would provide better cover.

Regular checks using a compass were made, both above ground and in the tunnel, to ensure that the tunnel was proceeding in the right direction. Progress was coming along nicely, given the fact that all they had to dig with were ordinary gardening tools. At the rate they were working Manfred estimated the tunnel would be complete sometime in August 1962, provided there were no complications.

The diameter of the tunnel itself grew to roughly four feet tall and wide, big enough to travel through on hands and knees. It was being reinforced along the sides every two or three feet with wood or bricks or whatever the team could find. Figuring out new and subtle ways to disperse all the earth being moved was becoming more difficult as well. This dilemma and the lack of adequate shoring materials were both solved one afternoon when Manfred suggested to the pastor that planting flowerbeds along the entire front, sides, and walkways of the church grounds would add a nice touch.

The pastor smiled, leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Manfred, you're a good man. I've known for some time what you and your young people are up to in the graveyard. I have been meaning to suggest you add more landscaping efforts to strengthen your cover story. Now, child, you must be getting low on shoring materials. You'll find several items in the basement that I believe will be useful, extra building materials from the church repairs in 1948. Take anything you need."

Manfred was temporarily stunned. "Thank you, Father," he said, slightly flushed. "I didn't want to involve you directly in case we were found out; I wanted to protect you."

To which the elderly pastor replied solemnly, "My soul will go to God when I die, regardless of how I die; in that I am both protected and comforted. Let me know, Manfred, if I can help in any other way."

Toward the end of the tunnel's creation, in mid-1962, a second Wall began to be added to the border, as Manfred and his team had forecasted. This one was comprised of concrete blocks but was being put up more slowly than the first barrier had been. The team knew that as the workers building this second Wall moved closer to Bernaur Strasse and the Church, more discretion would be vital to keep from being caught so close to success.

***

Adolf leaned back, sweaty and muscles aching with effort, to take a little break. It was hot and stuffy up here, but worth it. Fortunately, he was almost done and would not have to brave this attic in the roiling heat of the impending summer – it was bad enough in May. His hunch to check his father's old things had finally paid off. Three generations' worth of items in the attic seemed to have multiplied on their own at least twice since his last visit up those creaky old stairs in 1947. Mother had managed to accumulate quite a bit more in the last fifteen years! It had taken him almost a month to carefully clear a path to the old trunk put away so many years ago. Along the way he had found a treasure trove of strange and wonderful things, including some hideous baby clothes of his. God only knew what Mother had been thinking, keeping some of it.

At long last he had spied his quarry in the back corner, protected by a very thick layer of dust and cobwebs. Breaching its outer defenses, he cursed when he realized the key was nowhere to be found. The lock was old, but sturdy, and thwarted various attempts to open it. Finally, he heaved and grunted and maneuvered the big trunk around where he could access the hinges on the back. These proved to be more vulnerable and yielded to persistence with a chisel and hammer.

His breath had caught as the faint odor of his father's aftershave wafted up from the old greatcoat. Memories flooded like a monsoon. Overcome for a moment, he had to pause to let the storm pass. Recollections of sitting with his parents by the fire, entranced by his father's adventures on behalf of the Reich, seemed like they happened only yesterday. He traced his fingers over the collar of his father's greatcoat, where his mother had proudly attached the swastikas. Removing each item from its resting place lovingly, carefully, Adolf began to work his way through the trunk's contents.

Toward the bottom he spied what looked like a sheaf of papers bound with twine. His pulse quickened as he reached forward to take his future out of hiding. A quick glance confirmed the documents were in his father's handwriting. The first page was addressed to Adolf himself and was dated May nineteenth, 1945. But the rest of the writing was gibberish, groups of numbers and slash marks – a three-digit number, then a slash, then another three-digit number; he estimated there to be around a hundred such pages, written on both sides. Adolf remembered his father's demeanor well enough to know that this was not accidental. It had to mean something, something extremely important, or Father would not have bothered to encode it. If he could just figure out how to break the code, he would have all the answers he needed.

Reluctantly he set his newfound treasure to one side and carefully continued looking through his father's things, including the Luger that Uncle Ernst had given Father as a gift. And finally, reaching the bottom of the trunk, he saw it, etched into the wood. A father-to-son family joke of sorts in the past, now a beacon, lighting the way to his dreams. Two simple yet powerful words left by his father, the meaning of which was crystal clear to him.

Family Bible.

And Adolf brushed sweat and cobwebs from his face and laughed, quite possibly his first genuine laugh since he was eleven, before his world was shattered. He knew how to break the code. Turning to his left, he searched back through the pile of things he had set off to the side and pulled it triumphantly from the stack – the autographed copy of _Mein Kampf_ , his father's most treasured possession. He replaced everything in the trunk except the papers and the book, saving the gun for last for easier access. Smiling and whistling softly to himself, he headed downstairs to recharge with a shower, food, and a drink. He had work to do.

# CHAPTER THREE

On the evening of August twelfth, 1962, Adolf and Manfred were both jubilant, but for very different reasons.

Manfred crawled back toward the tunnel entrance in the graveyard, pleased with himself and with his students. They were finished. It had taken the group just shy of a year, but finally the door was open that led to freedom if their luck continued to hold. He silently thanked the weather in advance for its cooperation – the evenings were projected to be overcast all week, which would decrease the chances of being silhouetted by moonlight.

Part of him wanted to just go ahead and make the crossing and never look back, taking all his students at the same time. But six people traveling as a group after dark would draw unnecessary attention and was too big a risk. His concern for his students and his certainty that their exits needed to be well planned overrode his desire to kiss his wife and hold his child. A few days more, he told himself. He needed to take certain things with him, and he needed to let Max know he was coming. Two students had used the tunnel successfully tonight. The others would attempt it in pairs over the next three nights. He and Peter would try to cross on Thursday, provided everything went as planned.

***

Adolf lowered his pen, picked up his glass, toasted his surroundings, and exhaled in triumph. Ten weeks of long nights had paid off. The translation was finished. In his hands he held a complete manifesto for the resurrection of the Nazi party- a plan that could be enacted anywhere provided conditions were right – and instructions for something called "schweres Wasser" – heavy water. Adolf had no idea what that meant, but it must be important to be included in these documents. The papers his father had left for him were priceless. Once the deciphering was done, Adolf was able to read the documents in their entirety. The first page, the one that had addressed him directly, turned out to be in part a letter from his father explaining the history of how the documents came to be.

His father had been a close friend of Ernst Kaltenbrunner, who was not only very highly placed in the SS, but also a favorite of Hitler himself. As a result, Ernst was entrusted with several sensitive manuscripts just after Allied forces entered Germany. When Berlin fell to the Soviets on the eighth of May 1945, Kaltenbrunner found himself on the run, heading south to avoid capture. He in turn gave the documents to Adolf's father, who immediately transcribed a coded version and then destroyed the originals. His father wrote that it grieved him to burn such visionary texts, written by the Fuhrer himself, but it was necessary.

Transferring the documents was fortuitous- Kaltenbrunner was captured by Allied forces on May the fifteenth and was tried and executed at Nuremberg in October 1946. And although Adolf's father had no way of knowing at the time, the destruction of the originals was also fortuitous, as he would be hauled away and executed by Soviet forces before summer's end.

But there was more. The letter revealed his father's intention to travel with Uncle Ernst via a pre-arranged transport to South America; they were to meet other Nazi leaders there. " _Adolf_ ," his father wrote, " _with any luck you are reading this and will join me there_." It went on to mention a code phrase, contact names, and rendezvous points, both at the German border and at his destination, and that further instructions would be waiting for him once he arrived.

Adolf cursed, throwing his glass in frustration. Obviously the 'further instructions' his father mentioned never happened, and the border contact here in Germany his father had written about was no good either – it was a location in Communist-held territory. Even if he could find the individual, getting out of East Germany would be almost impossible. But maybe, just maybe, he could follow the old thread just enough to find a new way to his brethren.

Adolf studied the translated papers exhaustively over the next three days, committing them to memory as much as possible. Then he followed in his father's footsteps and placed the translated pages and the personal letter from his father into the fire, one by one. But he knew that with police patrols becoming more aggressive in the Mitte District he would not be able to keep the coded documents in his possession for long either. Being caught with items so obviously encrypted would spell huge trouble with the authorities. But where to hide them? He needed anonymity just as much as security.

Walking home from work on Thursday afternoon, he found the solution to his problem. As he passed the Church of Reconciliation, he heard a great deal of commotion. It was workmen putting pieces of the new Wall into place. Traveling around to the southwest side of the church, he carefully peeked around the corner. As he suspected, the new Wall was being erected to run along the southernmost edge of the graveyard.

He observed the work for a few moments while a plan was forming in his mind. Unlike the first barrier of wooden posts and wire, this new structure was being installed to be more permanent - poured concrete as a base, then concrete bricks set into it and atop one another. And, he noted, the workers left their mixer and wheelbarrow sitting there as they left the site for the day.

If he absolutely had to, he could hide the coded papers within the Wall itself! No one would find them, and even if someone did, they would not be able to trace the papers back to him or be able to break the code.

***

In the American sector, Max Jones was summoned to the radio room at five-thirty p.m. on an otherwise quiet Thursday. The night operator verified she had written down the symbols correctly, then passed him the paper.

"From the Professor, sir. It's his call sign," she remarked. "Three grouping of letters, two sets of three, then a set of seven."

Max sat down, turned his cipher key to the correct letter, and transcribed the message that resulted in a huge smile spreading across his face: " _see you tonight_."

***

Manfred switched off his radio and put it back in its hiding place for what he hoped would be the last time. He walked down the stairs and for a moment he stood in silence in the living room, recognizing the irony of the situation. Manfred now knew exactly what his mother had felt the day they left for London so many years ago. He sighed and continued toward his bedroom to gather only what he absolutely had to take with him. That took all of ten minutes.

He went to the kitchen, made a sandwich, and poured himself a drink. Taking a seat on his sofa, he picked up a magazine. He glanced at the clock and sighed again. Two minutes past six. Now that he was so close to seeing Rose again, time seemed to have stopped altogether. He wasn't supposed to meet Peter at the Church until eight. It would be a long two hours to wait.

***

Adolf placed his precious documents into two successively bigger envelopes, then wrapped it all in waxed paper as best he could, taking care to ensure all the ends were well sealed. It might be a long time before he would see them again, and they would serve him no purpose if they were damaged.

"I hope those lazy dolts left the wheelbarrow," he said aloud to no one. It would make the task of stashing his valuables a little simpler. He retrieved his jacket from the front hall, tucked his package carefully inside his waistband at the small of his back so it would not be visible, zipped up his jacket, locked his front door, and stepped out into a moonless night.

***

By seven forty-five p.m. Manfred could wait no longer. He gathered up his satchel, his jacket, and his hat, and cast one last look around his family home. It was time. He could feel his pulse quicken as he locked the front door for the final time and walked down the sidewalk. The Church was five blocks away. He would spend a few minutes with the pastor and wait for Peter there.

***

Drawing his breath in sharply, Adolf shrank back into the shadows. A figure was walking down the other side of the street, coming closer and closer. Was it the police? Adolf's heart felt like it would explode, and his mind raced to come up with a logical reason why he would be out walking this time of night. Then his brain processed the information his eyes were seeing– it was another civilian. The man was carrying some sort of briefcase. When he passed under one of the streetlamps in front of the old church the man happened to glance upward, as if he felt raindrops.

Adolf saw his face. And smiled an evil smile. It was that damn know-it-all professor that had dared to speak harshly of the Reich. That man's name and face had been etched by hatred into his memory. With a rage pounding in his head that suffocated any sense of self-awareness, Adolf began to cross the street.

***

Manfred paused outside the church to put on his jacket. He was beginning to feel a mist falling. Suddenly the hair stood on the back of his neck – he was being watched. Following his instincts, he turned sharply to his left, gazing across the street. Raising his hand to shield his eyes from the streetlight, he could just make out a silhouette coming towards him. Sensing that the figure approaching was not a friendly one, Manfred walked briskly up the steps of the church and opened the door. From the doorway he risked a look back. The mysterious figure was nowhere to be seen.

***

Adolf had to sit on the curb for a moment to let the fire in his temples subside. As he slowly reined in his temper his mind cleared. He had a job to do, first and foremost. _Payback could come after – immediately after,_ as far as he was concerned. _Why not tonight?_ He decided to place his treasure as planned in the Wall, then position himself to wait for Manfred to come out of his sanctuary. _Yes, that would do nicely._

He stood up, looked around to make sure that he was not being watched himself, and surreptitiously made his way into the graveyard with a small flashlight. He found that once again, the men building the Wall had neglected to clean the site at the end of the workday. Not only was the wheelbarrow and hand mixer left behind, but he was also rewarded with half a bag of concrete powder and a small bucket. Now all he needed was water. He had noticed that afternoon that just next to the back door of the church was a little spigot. Casting his flashlight around, he retrieved the bucket, and started toward the church door.

***

Inside the pastor's office, Manfred was standing at the window overlooking the graveyard, only half-listening to the Father's conversation attempts. The pastor assumed it was due to nerves about making the crossing. But the scene that had unfolded outside was what had the professor distracted. Pushing the incident out of his mind, Manfred turned to give his full attention to the pastor, who was saying, "Everyone has made it through to the other side safely as far as I know. I believe it is just you that remains."

"No," Manfred replied, gazing out the window, "I have one more student over here. He will be traveling with me tonight." The church bell rang nine times as he spoke. "Curious that he is not here. We were supposed to meet an hour ago, and that young man is usually quite punctual. I fear something has happened to him, Father," Manfred said with concern. Turning to face the pastor, Manfred missed seeing Adolf's flashlight beam by the narrowest of margins.

***

The water spigot happened to be located under the very window that Manfred was in front of. Adolf froze, taking care to turn off his flashlight, and waited until the figure in the window retreated from view. It seemed an eternity. Adolf needed to move quickly. He turned on the water as quietly as possible and positioned the bucket so that the water would cascade down the side to minimize the splashing and the noise. This accomplished, he turned off the water, turned his flashlight back on, and carried the bucket back toward the far end of the graveyard.

He set the bucket down, dumped the concrete powder into the hand mixer, added some of the water, and began to turn the crank, immediately wincing at the noise. He realized it would be less efficient but safer to mix the concrete by hand; as quiet as the night was, he just could not risk the sound of the mixer. He looked around and found a mason's trowel. That would have to do. Adolf stirred the mixture until it was just about the right consistency. He slid the documents out from his waistband and set them and the flashlight on the ground, directing the beam at the Wall so he could see.

***

Manfred had turned back to the window and was startled to see what looked like a light shining from somewhere within the graveyard, very close to the tunnel entrance. He retrieved the Walther from his satchel, loaded it, and put in his jacket pocket. Then he motioned to the pastor to join him at the window and pointed to what had caught his attention.

"I think we ought to go out the front and walk around the side of the building, Father," said Manfred. "Hopefully it's Peter out there, but if it's not him, then it would probably be to our advantage to not be seen at first. It could be a police patrol." The pastor was concerned but in agreement.

***

Pushing the mixer over to the base of the Wall, Adolf poured a little of the concrete into the raw section of base trench that the Wall builders had dug out in preparation for the next day's work. Completely absorbed in his work, he was oblivious to Manfred and the pastor quietly approaching. Adolf placed his package on the wet concrete, taking care to center it, then began to add more concrete very carefully until his treasure was buried about four inches deep. He used the remainder of the concrete he had mixed to fill in the rest of the space, then smoothed the surface with the trowel. When he was finished, the little section he had poured came level to the existing Wall base – absolutely perfect.

Satisfied at last that the papers were safely tucked away, he took a switchblade from his pocket and etched two slightly curved grooves into both the hardening concrete and the lowest block next to it in the existing Wall. This would serve as a marker, the best one he could come up with that would not be obvious to anyone else. He checked his watch – nine thirty-one.

_Almost done here_ , Adolf thought to himself with a grim smile, _and then I can visit with the Professor_. He picked up his flashlight, stood up, and brushed himself off a bit. Turning around, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was face to face with Manfred and another, elderly man he assumed to be the pastor of the church.

Manfred was shocked to see his old student standing before him with clenched fists and a look on his face that would have frightened the devil himself. Their eyes met for a long moment.

"Adolf, isn't it? Adolf Werner?" Manfred asked softly. Adolf glowered silently at them and said nothing. But his grip tightened on the knife still in his hand, and his mind went into overload trying to ascertain how he could gain an advantage. The raw seething rage that threatened to consume him made it difficult to maintain his mask of normalcy.

Then the pastor stepped forward and asked, "What in the world were you burying, my son?"

And in that instant Adolf reacted. The simple question asked made it clear to him that he had been seen, been caught. He could leave no witnesses, especially since they knew his name. He stepped forward quickly toward Manfred, the arm holding the knife extended in front of him, intending to ram it through the blasphemer's heart. Manfred's hand went toward his pocket to withdraw his gun.

But the pastor instinctively stepped in front of Manfred to protect him, and his frail body absorbed the full force of steel tearing into flesh and muscle. With a piercing scream, the pastor slumped downward, convulsed twice, and was still. Adolf stepped back, momentarily stunned. Without taking his eyes off Adolf, Manfred bent down to check the old man for a pulse and found none – the knife had destroyed the aorta.

The pastor's cry had carried on the still night air and caught the attention of a rookie policeman passing in front of the church on his very first solo patrol. Nervously, he drew his weapon, turned on his flashlight, and began to come around the side of the church to investigate.

Manfred and Adolf both saw the flicker of a light approaching. Adolf pocketed his knife as quickly as he could and slipped around the corner of the unfinished Wall. Manfred spun on his heel and headed straight for the tunnel ten feet away. Lifting the wreath, he wriggled under it and scrambled to replace it to properly cover the entrance. He settled it back into place just in time. He could hear slow, methodical footsteps close by. Then they stopped for a moment and were replaced with retching sounds. The policeman had obviously found the body. The footsteps started again, retreating very quickly.

Manfred realized the officer was returning to a callbox to inform dispatch about what he had found. Praying that his friend would rest in peace, Manfred turned on his flashlight and began the crawl to freedom with a heavy heart. He was also still extremely concerned about Peter. Hopefully the tunnel would remain undiscovered and Peter would still be able to use it.

Adolf had full view of both the policeman's movements and Manfred disappearing into the ground. When the cop went off to call in about the body, Adolf reappeared and stood over the pastor, feeling strangely satisfied. It was the first time he had killed, and he liked the intense sensations that came with it.

The shaky, bouncing light coming back toward him tempered his adrenalin rush. He once again slipped around the Wall and into the shadows as the body was examined, photographed, and removed from the scene by the mortuary crew. A perfunctory search of the area was made by the inexperienced officer and consisted mainly of wandering among the headstones for about five minutes before leaving.

Finally, Adolf had the graveyard to himself again. And he knew exactly where he wanted to go. But he needed to make a quick detour first. Carefully, stealthily, he made his way back to his house. He went to the steamer trunk to retrieve and load the Luger. He picked up the gun and was stopped in his tracks by what was underneath it. The swastikas on his father's greatcoat seemed to stand out, call to him, even more than the day he first went through the trunk.

And it hit him – following the professor, going into West Berlin, would make it even more difficult to resurrect the Reich; that half of the city was surrounded with walls, guards, and Soviet territory. From East Berlin he could more easily reach the coast. He closed his eyes as his heart and his head waged a mighty war within him. He wanted to feel the professor's blood on his hands, see with his own eyes the man's torment and death. Equally strong was the passion and desire to restore Hitler's legacy to its proper place.

Adolf went back downstairs to his room and grabbed his hiking pack. He placed his father's book in the bottom, then layered a few articles of clothing and toiletries over it to conceal it. A small loaf of bread, a sausage, a small wheel of cheese, and a canteen of water were added from the kitchen. Lastly, he opened his sideboard cupboard, brought out three old jars, and emptied them of their contents – roughly a year's salary that he had saved up over time. He put as much as he could into his jeans pockets and the rest went into his backpack.

Placing the gun under his jacket and the hiking pack on his shoulders, he left his home without locking the door and returned to the graveyard. He crept over to the area where he had seen Manfred disappear, found the tunnel entrance, and removed the wreath. He stood as if at a crossroads, staring grimly into the hole, head and heart still at war...

***

By his estimation, Manfred had entered the tunnel sometime around nine forty-five; he had no idea what time it was now. As he crawled his mind wandered. He didn't understand why Peter had not shown up. He also didn't understand the level of venom that Adolf had stared at him with. He remembered the day that Adolf had abruptly left class, but that was five or six years ago at least. Surely the young man was not still that upset over a simple group discussion!

More importantly, what the hell had Adolf been burying in the graveyard? Whatever it was, he had been more than willing to kill for it....

***

As the church bell marked midnight, Adolf descended into the tunnel with a wolfish smile. He had made his choice. The hunt was on.

***

Manfred took his first steps onto West Berlin soil in over a year just after twelve-thirty a.m. on August the sixteenth. He had made it to the British sector. As he looked eastward, he hoped and prayed for Peter's safety and success. Then, getting his bearings, he set out for the American zone and Rose and Daniel.

***

Fifty yards in, Adolf knew he had made a huge error. A panic had started to set in that was making it extremely difficult to breathe. This was his first encounter with a dark, enclosed space, and he was surprised to find that it absolutely terrified him. He wanted to continue, to find the Professor and kill him, but his mind and body simply refused to cooperate. He finally managed to turn himself around in the small passageway and began crawling as fast as he could back toward open sky.

After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the gaping mouth of the tunnel and launched himself upward with a mighty effort. Freeing himself at last from his living grave, he lay on his back beside the cavern that had almost swallowed him, drawing in great gulps of night air. Gradually the smothering panic subsided, and he regained his wits. He was able to stand up, discovering that although his legs were still shaking, they would indeed hold his weight. Moving on autopilot, he headed for home. The professor would have to wait until Adolf could find another way past the Wall.

***

Back in the church graveyard, at first light, a chastened rookie officer and the superintendent of the watch had returned to the scene with more men and lights to conduct a decent search. The tunnel entrance was now plainly visible and was discovered in short order. A guard was posted, and by seven a.m. the Wall builders had a new assignment – sealing the tunnel opening with concrete.

***

The next morning, August seventeenth, Rose and Manfred were sitting side by side and hand in hand in her parents' living room as Daniel played with blocks in the floor. Klaus came in and in a solemn tone said, "Manfred, there's something you need to see."

Leaving their son with Emilie, they followed him outside and down the street toward Checkpoint Charlie where a large crowd was gathering. Manfred wept as he recognized his student, Peter, pleading for help and bleeding to death from gunshot wounds in 'no-man's land', mere yards from the freedom of West Berlin.

# SECTION TWO: A NEW START – 1962- 1997

# CHAPTER FOUR

That evening, Manfred sat in the Meyer's living room with sixteen-month old Daniel sleeping soundly in his arms. Watching his son dream, he marveled again at how much the child had grown in the time they had been apart. "Never again," he whispered as he lowered his head to lightly kiss the baby's forehead, "never again will I miss your birthday." Daniel sighed in his sleep and snuggled closer in response.

Manfred was unaware that Rose stood in the doorway, watching the scene with misty eyes. "You won't have to, my love," she said, her voice thick with emotion. And she crossed the room to sit beside her husband.

"Rose, we need to talk about something," Manfred said softly, so as to not wake the baby. "Max will be returning to America tomorrow. He's retiring from the Army and transferring into a government agency, and he has asked me to come and work for him. I told him you and I would have to discuss it. I know how close you are to your parents; you know I love them like my own. There's room for them to come with us if they wish. And my first priority is to make you happy. I know Germany is our home, Rose. But I honestly don't know if I can handle..." he trailed off as his eyes teared up and his voice broke. He took a deep breath, then continued. "I don't want to have to watch another person die senselessly, like Peter did today," he finished, his eyes dark with sorrow.

It broke her heart to see such grief on her husband's face. Rose placed her hand gently on Manfred's cheek and replied, "And you do make me happy. Manfred, my home is wherever you and Daniel are. We shall ask Mother and Father if they want to come, of course. But I will go with you to America, regardless of what they decide."

At dinner, Manfred and Rose talked with Klaus and Emilie about making the trip to America. Klaus leaned back slightly in his chair, furrowed his brow a bit, then turned to his wife and asked, "What do you think?"

Emilie paused, glanced lovingly at her grandchild for a moment, and said, "It is an easy choice. We are a family. Families love and support one another. We have all been through so much here. Perhaps America is a good place for a new start – for all of us." Klaus reached for her hand and kissed it.

The following afternoon, Max Jones, the Meyers, and the Amsels were in Tempelhof district, strapping themselves into their seats on a United States Air Force C-130. It was safer than attempting a commercial carrier. Soviet fighters had been menacing civilian aircraft flying in and out of West Berlin for years. Only Max had flown before and knew what to expect. The others were making their maiden voyage through the air and were extremely nervous. Over the whine of the engines, Max tried his best to reassure the group that everything would be fine.

Clasping hands tightly, each family member closed their eyes and prayed as the plane shuddered and shimmied and then took to the skies.

Putting West Berlin behind them, they leveled off and traveled roughly ninety minutes southwest toward Frankfurt in the American zone of Germany before turning slightly to the west. The journey continued for another seventy minutes before the plane began to approach Heathrow airport. Emilie yelped and clutched her husband's arm as the plane descended, and although Klaus was trying to keep his composure, he was turning an interesting shade of green. Manfred and Rose each snuggled closer to Daniel, who was sandwiched between them, and who was handling this new experience better than any of the grownups – he was sound asleep.

The passengers' relief was palpable when the aircraft touched ground lightly and came to a smooth stop. Max was unable to stop himself as his ragged group shrugged out of their seat belts. "Wasn't that delightful?" he queried, with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Emilie turned to him and with a very small voice and a wan smile replied, "It was lovely, thank you, and I hope to never, ever do it again."

Max chuckled, and said with heartfelt sincerity, "Ma'am, welcome to London."

***

While Manfred and his family were surviving their first plane ride, Adolf was walking through the woods, about seventy-seven miles south of Wittenberge.

After the attempt at the tunnel went horribly wrong, he had made his way home, frustrated with and ashamed of himself. He fell, fully clothed and emotionally raw, into his bed and slept a full sixteen hours. When he woke, he was his old self again, and was determined to take some sort of lesson from what had transpired. He was also ravenously hungry. As he made his way to the kitchen, he replayed the confrontation in the graveyard over and over in his mind, this time removing emotion from the equation and viewing it purely as a strategic analysis.

_Of course, it went wrong_! he thought to himself as his hands busied themselves making a sandwich. _It was going to. I didn't hear them approach_. Lesson One: Be aware of your surroundings. _I telegraphed my intentions with the knife._ Lesson Two: If at all possible, catch your prey unaware.

Next, he took a hard look at what had happened to him in the tunnel. It was the one time he had felt complete and utter terror. He never wanted to feel it again. But it taught him Lesson Three: Expect the unexpected.

Lastly, the whole experience had taught him Lesson Four: The value of patience, logic, and staying the course. He had let emotion overrule the intellect and common sense that needed to prevail to pull off reviving the Reich. Adolf realized that his main objective needed to be, first and foremost, rebuilding the glory of the old ways. And that meant personal agendas such as dealing with the Professor would be random moments of opportunity, an added bonus, not a priority.

He ate, showered, shaved, and changed into comfortable walking gear for August– jeans, a t-shirt layered under a lightweight long sleeve shirt, a light jacket, and his hiking boots. He checked the supplies again in his knapsack, adding his flashlight and extra batteries, a compass, a lighter, and some raisins. Then he sat down to pass the time until darkness fell by cleaning the Luger. That accomplished, he set the gun on the table and moved over to the couch, turning on the radio.

At some point Adolf dozed, and dreamed. He saw a structure rising magnificently from a barren wasteland. He saw himself standing at its entrance, dressed in full Kreigsmarine uniform, addressing a crowd that stood transfixed by his every word. And he saw a child, with hair so blond it looked white and unreadable eyes of slate gray. In his dream he reached and took the child's hand, and they turned and walked together into the massive building.

He awoke, snapping back to consciousness, every detail of the dream so vividly burned into his memory that he looked down at his hand, expecting to see it clasped around a very small one. It was an omen, a good one, he felt sure of it. Slowly he arose and stretched, looking at the clock on the mantle. Eleven twenty-seven p.m. Time to go. He secured the pistol at the small of his back, gathered up his knapsack and looked around at his childhood home. He felt no sorrow in leaving. The future was not here.

Closing his front door softly, Adolf slowly turned and began the long and lonely walk toward Wittenberge, one hundred and nine miles to the northwest.

***

The Meyers and the Amsels stayed in London overnight, then boarded the first of a two plane, two-day journey to the United States. Emilie was at first unwilling to even consider flying ever again. But Max reassured her that commercial aircraft were much more comfortable for passengers than were military transports.

"You've been through the worst of it, my dear," he said, patting Emilie's hand. "The rest of your journey will resemble traveling by train."

Luckily for Max, he proved to be right. The flights from London to Glasgow to Dulles International Airport were each as smooth as could be, for which they all were profoundly grateful. Two Agency cars and drivers met them at the airport and drove them the eighteen miles to Manassas, Virginia, where their new lives awaited.

As the car turned into an older and very beautiful neighborhood, Max said, "We've arranged housing for you to help you get settled. I took the liberty of having the place furnished. Of course you can stay as long as you like; if you decide to move to another place, that's fine too, Manfred. Whatever we can do to help."

Just then the car slowed, and made a left turn onto Battle Street, pulling into a long driveway. The old-fashioned colonial beckoned to them, welcoming them.

Rose's smile was instant and brilliant. "Oh, it's lovely!" she exclaimed. Talking excitedly, Rose and her mother went from room to room in the three-story home. Klaus and Manfred were particularly taken with the finished basement. And the house seemed custom made for them – a spacious and airy kitchen, ample space to gather as a family, and three bedrooms, each with its own bath. Traveling through the back door revealed a huge, lush lawn with trees and neatly tended flowerbeds, and a porch that ran the entire length of the house.

Max leaned against the wall by the front door, smiling and waiting patiently. Once everyone was gathered in the front hall again, he said, "Will it do?"

Manfred walked over, shook his hand and said, "Absolutely."

"Very well then," replied Max. He handed Manfred the keys to the house. "Take the next two days to relax and just enjoy your family. The rest of your things are in transit and should be here sometime tomorrow. I am sure Rose and Emilie will want to set their new home in order." The ladies beamed.

Max continued, "Manassas is a lovely town, with friendly people. Ben, one of the drivers outside, was born and raised here; he will be available to you until we can line up a Company car for you. He can show you around town and will take you wherever you want to go."

And to Manfred directly he said, "I will be by to pick you up bright and early Thursday morning for work."

***

Adolf had been walking for four days and guessed that within another day's time he would be in Wittenberge. He had been pacing himself – a comfortable strolling gait for about ten hours a day. So far, he had been very lucky. Once he had gotten out of Berlin, he had been able to stay on or close to the road; there were very few people out here. Evidently any Soviet troops or police authorities in the area had more important things to tend to besides manning a desolate stretch of farming road. But he still kept his awareness sharp as he walked, prepared to hide in the trees at a moment's notice.

The weather had been cooperating nicely; not nearly as hot as he anticipated it would be during the day, and comfortably cool at night. And sleeping under the stars was strangely calming. He had lain on his back and counted them last night until he drifted off. When he woke at first light, he felt more rested than he had in years.

As he walked along, he began to hear sounds of people nearby. Rounding the bend, he spied a pond, just off to the left, and heard the delighted squeals and laughter of children. The four of them saw him and waved. He slowed his pace and waved back but did not stop.

Around another bend was a crossroad angling off sharply to the right. He stopped, set his pack down, retrieved his compass, and studied it. Nodding in satisfaction, he put the compass in his pocket, took a quick drink from his canteen, picked up his pack, and headed up the path veering right. Twenty minutes later, a farmer with a wagon full of produce asked him if he could use a lift. They arrived in Wittenberge just after five p.m. Adolf thanked the man, descended from the cart, and set off in search of a meal and a bed. He found both in a small boarding house and settled in for the night.

In the morning he asked the widow running the boarding house if there were any vehicles for rent in the small town. After receiving an amused look, he was directed down the street to an old bicycle shop. _Better this than walking another eighty miles_ , he thought to himself. He picked the least worn out of the lot and bought it outright. It had a small basket attached directly behind the seat that held his hiking pack perfectly. Right next to the bicycle shop was a little general store of sorts. He went in and bought more sausages, cheese, and raisins to replenish his supplies. Storing them in his pack, Adolf climbed aboard to continue his journey toward Wismar and hopefully his contact.

Even with the bike, it was another two days before he reached his destination. His backside hurt from not having ridden so much since he was a child. He was tired, dirty, and hungry. His leg muscles screamed as he made his way up a steep hill. Reaching the top, he stopped, and blinked twice as if he had seen a mirage.

He had made it. The road sloped downward leading into the town; from his vantage point he could smell the salt of the ocean, perhaps five or six miles past Wismar. _Time to pull the old thread and see where it leads_ , he thought to himself. He leaned forward slightly and let gravity pull him, coasting down the hill. It was August the twenty-third, a full week since he had left his house in the Mitte district of East Berlin.

***

Half a world away, Manfred sat in the guest chair across from Max's desk in CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. They had not yet had a full debriefing regarding what happened the night of Manfred's escape into the West.

"Well, Max, where we do start?" Manfred said.

"Tell me again about the young man in the graveyard. You said his name was.... Adolf, correct?" Max asked, searching his memory.

"That's correct. Adolf Werner," Manfred replied, and relayed everything he knew or could remember about the young man, from the time Adolf attended his classes until the night in the graveyard.

Max stood, and began to walk around the room, talking as he went. "You said he got angry with you that day in class. What specifically was the topic of the group discussion that day?"

Manfred responded, "If I recall correctly, we were talking about literature from different cultures. Somehow the conversation worked around to political parties and how their viability is directly impacted by their leaders. I remember saying something along the lines of some of them being doomed experiments, destined to fail. Another of my students asked for an example, and I mentioned Hitler specifically. Adolf turned very red and asked me to elaborate. When I did, he stormed out of the room. I didn't see him again until we walked up behind him in the graveyard."

Max sat down again and leaned back in his chair, frowning at the ceiling. "I wonder what the hell he buried?"

Manfred shrugged, and answered, "I honestly don't know. But whatever it was, he took a great deal of care in hiding it very well, even going so far as to smooth out the concrete he poured over it. And, it must have been very valuable and/or very important, because Adolf tried to stab me when he saw us standing there." Running his hands through his hair, Manfred continued, "The only reason the pastor is dead and not me is because he stepped in front of me at the last minute."

"Sounds to me like the violence was directed at you specifically," Max mused.

Manfred closed his eyes and replayed the scene in his head. "Most definitely," he said, opening his eyes. "Adolf didn't even look at the pastor, not even when he asked Adolf what he was doing. Adolf was staring at me the whole time."

Max was silent for a bit, then asked, "Do you think he saw you use the tunnel?"

"Possibly," Manfred conceded. "To be honest, once I noticed the light coming toward us, I was only focused on getting into the tunnel and getting that wreath put back into place. At that point I had no idea where Adolf had gone."

"So, we have a former student of yours who sounds like he missed the good old days when Nazis ran the show, burying something that he was willing to kill for under a Wall that for all we know might stand until the end of time. It makes no sense!" Max exclaimed.

"Well," Manfred pointed out, "the last thing he did before he turned around and saw us was take something out of his pocket - I realize now it was his knife - and make marks on the fresh concrete and on one of the blocks next to it. So maybe he was only putting whatever it was there temporarily, and he means to go get it back later. It would explain the marks - a way to find the location again."

"But the question still remains - why would someone bury something that they might not be able to retrieve later? If it's that important, why not just hide it somewhere in their house, like you did with the radio and the gun?" Max wondered aloud.

Then it dawned on Manfred. He leaned forward and said excitedly, "But, if it was anything connected to the Nazis, it would actually be smart to hide it somewhere _other_ than in your possession. Right before I left, there were special squads that were being sent randomly to check people's houses in the entire Mitte district. In the little store down the street from the house I overheard a Soviet soldier complaining about being assigned to one of the teams, saying that 'this Nazi hunting is tiresome, surely we have caught them all by now.' Luckily, they didn't get to my house before I crossed over, or they would have found the radio and the gun, and I would be in jail in Berlin instead of here with you."

"And Adolf is one of the brightest students I have ever taught – _ever,_ " Manfred continued, very slowly. Looking up at Max, he said, "If you have any contacts over there still, you might try to find out what he's put in that Wall. I have a feeling that whatever it is, it's big, and very, very dangerous if he gets it back."

"I have just the person who can find out for us," Max replied. "But I need to go back to West Berlin."

***

The pigeon took off effortlessly from the West Berlin balcony, soaring and swooping, heading to the east, its flight path imprinted on its memory. Reaching its destination, the bird touched down gracefully on the rooftop, walking along the precipice. Its trainer gently scooped it up, carried it over to its cage, and removed the piece of paper from the tiny canister fastened to the bird's left leg.

The piece of paper was from Max Jones, Snowbird noted with a delighted smile. He needed some information. Snowbird was to try to find markings on the Wall behind the Church, and also attempt to locate one Adolf Werner. _Werner, Adolf Werner_... Snowbird thought. _Why does that name sound familiar?_ Frowning, Snowbird mentally set that puzzle aside, took a little piece of paper and a pencil from a pocket, and began to write. At least one of the questions Snowbird already knew the answer to.

***

Max watched the bird make its approach. With a final flutter of wings, the creature perched onto the balcony. Max very carefully took the pigeon into his hands and removed Snowbird's elegantly handwritten note from the cylinder. He read:

" _Church closed. Guards in bell tower._

Give me two days about the other.

You owe me a beer!

Snowbird"

At the last line, Max roared with laughter. Snowbird always ended with that line; it was both an authenticity code and a running joke between them. But it still made him laugh every time.

Max had met Snowbird entirely by accident one day in 1955. The two had become good friends, and when Max asked for help in getting messages in and out of East Berlin, it was Snowbird's idea to use the carrier pigeons. "Sometimes the old ways are the best ways," Snowbird had said with a mischievous grin.

And after the Wall had gone up, the good idea became a great idea; it was pretty much the only means of contact left open that did not involve radio transmissions, which could be traced.

_Good luck, Snowbird_ , Max thought to himself. Hopefully you will find something we can use.

Snowbird, meanwhile, had figured out why the name Adolf Werner had sounded so familiar. He had been a student of Snowbird's in primary school. And, his family had lived one block over from here.

"Time to see if Adolf is home," Snowbird said, reaching for the walker. Although Snowbird certainly did not need the walker, it was a necessary part of the illusion maintained in the public eye of being old and frail. This façade enabled Snowbird to pretty much come and go without being bothered; combined with pretending to be senile it worked wonders. East German and Soviet policemen tended to waive old loons on their way rather than have to deal with them. Snowbird, even at seventy-two, was as sharp as ever. It was just a bigger advantage to pretend not to be.

Fully in character, Snowbird shuffled slowly along the sidewalk, receiving friendly greetings from just about every person that passed. Snowbird was well known in the Mitte District and had taught most of the folks living there at one time or another, not to mention owning the candy store at the end of the block since retiring from teaching. Reaching the Werner's house, Snowbird shuffled the walker up the steps, and rang the bell. No answer.

Reaching for the doorknob revealed that the door was not locked, so Snowbird went in to have a look around. And almost immediately noticed that on the floor in the doorway leading to the kitchen was a little wallet size photograph of two men and a boy, maybe ten years old.

Obviously, this was not the proper place for it; it must have fallen out of a wallet or pocket.

The boy was definitely Adolf – Snowbird had a steel trap of a memory for faces. They were all dressed in hunting gear and posing with a freshly killed wild boar. Turning the photo over, Snowbird read the caption, written in a child's scrawl: " _Me, Father and Uncle Ernst – October 1943_ ". Gazing at the picture again for a long moment, recognition dawned. Snowbird knew who "Uncle Ernst" was. Max would definitely want to see this picture.

Stuffing the photograph into a pocket, Snowbird made the slow journey back to the apartment rooftop, being stopped several more times along the way by folks wanting to say hello. The picture was rolled up tightly as possible and stuffed into a cylinder along with a short note. Then Snowbird set the pigeon loose and watched it fly toward West Berlin.

***

"That was fast!" Max exclaimed. "Snowbird said two days."

"Well, sir," replied the young man sent to interrupt his meeting, "I don't know about that, I was just told a carrier pigeon had arrived with something you were going to want to see."

And the young man was right. Max read the note from Snowbird – _Adolf gone, found this, you should know this face –_ and looked long and hard at the picture, swearing softly under his breath. "Uncle Ernst" was in fact Ernst Kaltenbrunner, the highest-ranking SS officer to be captured alive. Max had spent many hours watching the man during the Nuremberg trials. There had been unsubstantiated claims that Hitler had entrusted one or more members of the SS with top-secret documents; no evidence of those documents had ever been found.

Kaltenbrunner had been a favorite of the Fuhrer. If Adolf Werner referred to this man as Uncle, it lent a great deal of credence to Manfred's theory about something of great importance being buried in that damn Wall. Max quickly penned a note to send back to Snowbird. Then they set the bird free to return home.

Snowbird watched the pigeon land, then retrieved and read the note. " _You are_ absolutely __ brilliant _! Just the info we needed. I may not be in touch for a while, but I'll be back as soon as I can. Max_ ".

And Josephine Mueller, called Nana by the entire neighborhood and Snowbird by a select few, beamed.

# CHAPTER FIVE

The person of interest in Snowbird's fact finding mission was not only out of town when she came calling, he was out of the country; as a matter of fact, he was walking up the gangplank onto a British cruise liner bound for South America with papers that proclaimed him to be a Finn named Larsen.

Adolf had discovered to his dismay that the old pathway in Wismar was closed; the individual his father had guided him to was dead. But he was not wired to give up easily. He sat in a corner of the local pub, nursing a beer and racking his brain to come up with the next step that would get him further along on his quest. He happened to overhear the bartender greeting the huge, menacing looking man who had just entered as 'Captain Larsen.' And the light bulb illuminated in Adolf's head.

He had edged himself out of the little booth, and with mug in hand approached the captain and asked permission to join him. Larsen acquiesced with a hard stare and a grunt, pointing to a chair. Adolf saw no point in wasting time. He sat down, ordered another round for the two of them, then leaned forward and quietly said, "I would like to leave with you when your ship sails. What would it cost me?" The captain gave him another hard and stony stare for a long while.

Just when Adolf thought he had made a huge mistake, Larsen's face broke into a grin, and the man laughed loud and long. "Direct and to the point!" he said, clamping a massive hand on Adolf's shoulder. "I like it!"

Two days later, Adolf found himself aboard the fishing vessel _Sea Siren_ , heading for Amsterdam. It was his first time out on the water, and the seasickness was unbearable; at one point he was convinced that dying would be much simpler. He failed to see how anyone could survive such misery. For Larsen, a fourth-generation fisherman, this caused a great deal of amusement. It was not until day four that Adolf began to feel better, but by that time the massive Finn had already labeled him 'maa-alueiden jalat' – 'land legs'.

The seventy-eight-foot boat had to travel almost due north past Skagen, located at the very tip of Denmark, before turning southward again into the North Sea to reach the Netherlands. When Amsterdam came into view Adolf had felt like cheering. He had also promised himself that any other sea voyages would be done on a much, much bigger boat. He shook hands with Larsen, and set foot on dry land with profound relief, some three weeks since the bar in Wismar.

_A bath and a bed,_ he had thought to himself, _and then let's get moving again_. He hefted his pack -which now also contained some money and the passport he had stolen from the captain- onto his shoulders and walked away to find a currency exchange.

***

In Manassas, the Amsels and Meyers had settled into a routine. Rose and Emilie delighted over each crate of belongings that arrived from West Germany, making a game of placing everything just so. When they were finished the old house glowed with warmth and welcome. Klaus invested in woodworking tools and spent quality time in the basement making beautiful carvings to sell at the annual town festival. And Manfred adjusted to teaching World Literature at the University of Virginia, and foreign languages at Quantico and Langley.

Max and Manfred had discussed the information Snowbird had uncovered. "There's just no way to tell where Adolf is now," Manfred observed. "He could still be in Berlin, or a thousand miles from Germany by now."

Max sighed; he knew Manfred was right. They could not cast a net when they had no idea where to cast it, and they did not have any agents in the Soviet sector outside Berlin. And with the church graveyard now under permanent surveillance, any chance they might have had to rediscover Adolf's dig site was lost as well. Other than placing Adolf Werner on the Allies' watch list, they had no recourse but to suspend the pursuit for now.

So, Manfred shifted his focus to introducing group after group of new students to the wonders of learning, whether literature, or another language. As always, he was a popular professor, on all campuses. His Langley and Quantico courses went a step further – reinforcing to those students that pretending not to understand was also infinitely valuable in their future line of work.

"Some of the best intelligence gathered is done so by just listening to your environment," he stressed to his class. "The key is that you _must_ keep a neutral expression, no matter what you have just heard. If your targets even suspect that you understand what is being said, the least that can happen is that they move away where you can no longer overhear them. The worst that can happen is, well, I am sure you all have very vivid imaginations." A few of the students nodded solemnly.

***

Adolf stood, stretched, rubbed his eyes, and decided fresh air would do him some good. He had consumed too many cigarettes lately. He poured himself a drink from one of the crystal decanters, then strolled over to the balcony doors and stepped out toward a magnificent view. Swirling the fiery liquid around in his glass, he leaned lazily against the railing, watching the gardeners working in the flowerbeds along the south side of the expansive lawn. Sometimes he still found it hard to believe that he had come so far.

The cruise ship Adolf had boarded in Amsterdam in the fall of 1962 had made a day stop in Sao Luis before continuing on to Rio de Janeiro. This was unexpected but benefited his plans greatly. He went ashore with a huge group of other passengers that morning and managed to lift the wallet off an oblivious fellow tourist. When the group returned to the boat at five p.m., they were one short. At nine p.m. the boat's staff, having done a roll call several times, duly notified the port authorities that a Mr. Larsen had failed to return from the shore excursion. By then Adolf was resting comfortably in a little room under his own name, making plans to head up the coast on the scooter he paid for with stolen cash. Mr. Larsen had ceased to exist for the time being.

The next morning, Adolf went to outfit his traveling kit with clothing more suited to a tropical climate. He picked up two more lightweight long sleeve button up shirts, two cotton t-shirts, two pairs of cargo pants, a rain jacket, extra socks, a straw hat, and a second hiking pack.

Returning to his room, he situated his belongings and some foodstuffs into his backpacks and sat on the side of the bed for a moment.

_Get to Macapá, Brazil_ , _however you can_ , his father's letter had read. _Seek out Hans Metzger; he served with me and will guide you further._

Adolf consulted his map of the region. From Sao Luis to Macapá was a little over 1,000 miles. He folded the map and tucked it into the top of one of the backpacks, looked once around the room to ensure he had everything he needed, then gathered up his packs and went out to the waiting scooter. He placed the larger of the two packs in the basket on the back, strapping it down securely, and hoisted the other onto his shoulders. Mounting the scooter, Adolf set off on the next leg of his journey.

He took his time, only riding about thirty miles a day – the little scooter was not built for marathon runs. He encountered horrible roads but amazing scenery, exquisite food, and friendly locals along the way. It had been the week before New Year's when he had finally arrived in Macapá, and none too soon. The rainy season had begun.

To his amazement, he found that after all these years Herr Metzger was right where Adolf's father had said he would be, in a little cantina on the outskirts of the town. But Metzger had been busy in the eighteen years he had called Brazil home; he now also owned one of the largest mining operations in the region.

Metzger was extremely suspicious of the newcomer at first; being wary was an old, instinctive habit that had kept the ex-SS man alive all these years. But once he realized who Adolf's father had been, he relaxed and welcomed the young man warmly.

"I keep the cantina for fun," he explained to Adolf. "But the real money around here is in exports. In this region it is gold and manganese that lines a man's pockets."

"Your father was a great man, Adolf," he continued. "I had hoped he would make it out. But fate intervened, I suppose. Now, you are here. And because of your father, I will help you in any way I can."

Adolf leaned forward and replied, very softly, "I _will_ rebuild the Reich, make no mistake about that. How many are left?"

Metzger shook his head. "You and I are the only ones I am aware of. I have heard of a few others that may have made it out of Germany, but I have never been able to confirm this. As you can imagine, one does not announce affiliations as openly these days."

Adolf thought for a moment, and said, "If it is just us, so be it. We can slowly build strength over time." And proceeded to tell Metzger about the documents he had found in the trunk, and the events that had led him to Macapá.

Metzger's eyes grew wide and bright, but he remained silent until Adolf had finished with "One day, we will return to the Fatherland and reclaim the manifesto."

Metzger raised his glass, and they toasted.

And so, Metzger had taken Adolf under his wing, teaching him everything he needed to know about mining and the export business. Adolf watched and listened, making suggestions here and there that resulted in a huge profit increase in the operations. It quickly became apparent to Metzger that Adolf had a natural head for business, an uncanny ability for management and finances as well as being a sharp judge of character. He knew instinctively when to tread lightly and when to take a hardline approach.

Over time, Metzger began to regard Adolf as the son he never had. So he taught him other things that were equally as important – weaponry, interrogation tactics, and hand to hand combat among them. He also insisted that Adolf learn English and Portuguese, which he did with amazing rapidity.

When the old man died in 1982, Adolf inherited the entire empire Metzger had built. He promptly made some deals that netted him a monopoly of the entire gold exporting business in the northern half of Brazil. More importantly, he continued to cultivate business contacts around the world – including several high-volume gold buyers in the United States and Europe. No more scurrying around with false names under false pretenses. He now had legitimate means to travel anywhere he pleased. The first pieces of the plan had fallen into place beautifully.

The following summer Adolf had the place built on Lake Manacapuru just outside Manaus, where he now stood on the second-floor balcony and watched a mild afternoon sky beginning to descend into a gorgeous sunset over the Amazon.

***

_It must skip a generation in our family_ , Manfred thought to himself. His father had been a human calculator, figuring complex math problems all in his head as easily as most people breathe. Manfred himself had had to work extremely hard in his math classes to keep his "A" average through school; his natural talents ran to the right-brain, or artistic side. Yet his son Daniel, from his very first day in kindergarten, was most definitely a left-brain dominant individual just like Manfred's father had been.

Daniel was so gifted that the summer of his sophomore year he decided to take the SAT purely for fun - and got perfect scores on all sections. The result was a full scholarship to the College of William and Mary at the age of seventeen for his bachelor's degree. He majored in both Math and Chemistry and graduated at the head of his class just after his twentieth birthday. Daniel then attended the University of Virginia, achieving his Masters' degree in math by the time he turned twenty-two. Next came an invitation to pursue his doctorate at MIT, all expenses paid, in addition to the offer of a teaching position there.

And now Manfred was in a hotel room in Cambridge, Massachusetts, adjusting his new tie, preparing to go and watch his only child graduate with a doctorate at the age of twenty-five.

_Where did the time go_? he thought to himself as he checked his appearance in the mirror. _It seems like yesterday I was able to hold him in my arms while he slept._ Turning his head to the side slightly, he grimaced as he noticed more and more silver streaks in his hair.

"Darling, you look wonderful - except for the frown," came a voice from the doorway.

He looked over his shoulder, and the frown melted away. After over thirty years together, he still felt that thunderbolt every single time he looked at her. Rose was as stunning as ever. She too had thin silver ribbons beginning to intertwine with her dark locks. But that was the only way that the years had touched her at all.

She smiled and took Manfred's hand in hers. "Shall we go? We don't want to keep Daniel and Hope waiting."

Daniel had met Hope in the summer of 1984 at the University of Virginia. She had been on her way up the steps in front of the library; he had been coming down. When she twisted her ankle and dropped her books and papers, Daniel had been the first to come to her aid, and they had been dating ever since. A history major, Hope was small and delicate, with fiery green eyes and hair the color of warm honey. She had a sparkling laugh and a vivacious personality, and Daniel was in love with her the moment he saw her on the stairs.

Hope had no family to speak of; she too was an only child. Her father had been killed in an industrial accident when she was three, and her mother had lost a battle with cancer in 1982, just before Hope turned twenty. So Daniel had invited her to stay with his family at Christmas that first year. Manfred and Rose had taken to her immediately, and secretly hoped she would become a daughter-in-law at some point.

Now Manfred and Rose sat and visited with Hope, waiting for the commencement ceremony to start. The crowd quieted as the music began and the candidates filed into their seats. They spotted Daniel, tall, broad shouldered, extremely handsome in his robes. He smiled and waved to the three of them, and they smiled and waved back. Both Hope and Rose were already misty-eyed. As Daniel took his seat among his classmates, he surreptitiously reached under his robe to touch the object inside the jacket pocket of his suit. None of them suspected a thing. It was going to be a great day.

***

Adolf's reverie was broken by shouts off to the right. He noticed two of his guards approaching the house with a third person between them.

Frowning, he turned and left the balcony, heading downstairs. He opened the back door and stepped out onto the patio as the guards were escorting their captive up the steps. Adolf froze, and stared at the new arrival with undisguised shock. Staring back at him defiantly was a boy, no more than seven or eight at the most. Behind the dirt smudges on his face Adolf noticed a pale complexion with a sprinkling of freckles. But what had him mesmerized was the child's blond hair, almost white, and slate gray eyes.

"Mr. Werner **,** we found him sneaking onto the property," one of the guards began. Adolf was studying the child from his dream so intently that the guard started to repeat himself, thinking he had not been heard. He was waved off dismissively.

"Leave us," Adolf barked. "I will take it from here." Confused, the guards withdrew to continue their rounds.

"And you," Adolf said to the boy, "Come with me." He received an icy stare in response, but the boy followed him inside as directed. Adolf gestured to a chair in the living area, which the child sat in sulkily.

"And just what do you think you are doing trespassing on my property?" Adolf asked, taking the opposite chair. No response. He tried another tack. "You know, I happen to be friendly with the police chief in Manaus. One phone call will get you back to your family."

To which the boy bitterly replied, in perfect English, "I have no family. I ran away from the orphanage. They didn't want me anyway. They all made fun of me and called me 'o diabo loiro'. I was just looking for food. I wasn't going to _steal_ anything. Can I go now?"

Adolf had to suppress a grin. "Where would you go?" he responded.

The boy shrugged his shoulders, then jutted out his chin, and stated, "I'll think of somewhere. I don't need anybody."

Now Adolf could not help but laugh at this show of bravado. "O diabo loiro," he repeated. "The blond devil. I bet you are a handful, aren't you? What's your name?"

"Mikel," the child replied. "And I can take care of myself."

"I have no doubt of that," Adolf said, not unkindly. "But how about you stay here and have dinner, Mikel? Manaus is a long way from here on foot. You must be tired and hungry."

Those unreadable eyes watched Adolf for a long while before Mikel responded with a slightly thawed, "Okay."

Over dinner Mikel continued to watch everything around him, particularly Adolf, with suspicion and wariness. When the plates were served, the child descended on his food like he had not eaten in a year. Adolf sat and watched his small charge and remembered the dream he had had so long ago. This child was meant to find him. He was meant to find this child. One piece of his dream had come to fruition. Adolf had no doubt whatsoever that the rest of it would materialize as well.

Finally, the boy had eaten his fill, and was already beginning to show signs of the sleepiness that comes immediately after a contented stomach. "Mikel," Adolf said softly. "It's dark now. Too late to be traveling. How about you stay here? If you like you can continue your journey in the morning." Mikel nodded drowsily.

Raisa, Adolf's housekeeper, helped the child up the stairs and showed him to a guest room. She came down five minutes later, and approached Adolf, who had moved to the study for a glass of brandy.

"Senhor Adolf, that child fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow – I barely got his shoes off him," she said.

"Thank you, Raisa," he responded. "Would you be so kind as to check on him during the night? And let me know when he wakes."

"Absolutely, Senhor Adolf. Good night." Raisa left the study. Adolf swirled his brandy and stared into the fire, thinking, remembering.

***

The ceremony had ended, and all the graduates were surrounded by family and friends. Daniel made his way through the throng of people and finally spotted his parents and Hope standing off to one side of the auditorium. He hugged Manfred and Rose, and then Hope threw her arms around him and said, "We are all so proud of you!"

Daniel, smiling mischievously over Hope's shoulder at his mother, replied, "Well, it's just about been the perfect day – almost." Hope released him and stepped back, slightly confused. Winking at his father, Daniel reached under his robe. Pulling the tiny box from his jacket pocket, he got down on one knee, opened the box, and said to Hope, "Will you marry me?"

***

Adolf came down the stairs to a hearty breakfast, as usual. Raisa believed in starting the morning off right. At the table sat his diminutive houseguest, feet swinging idly underneath his chair, tackling a mountain of pancakes. Adolf poured himself a first cup of Raisa's special coffee blend and took a seat next to Mikel.

"And how did you sleep?" Adolf inquired.

"Pretty good," responded Mikel, around a mouthful of syrupy goodness.

"I happen to have business to attend to in town today. I know you probably want to get going on your way, but I had rather hoped you'd be able to come with me," Adolf mentioned casually.

Mikel paused, fork in midair, and regarded Adolf warily for a moment; then shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Um, sure, if you want," before shoveling another huge bite of pancakes.

"Very well then," said Adolf. "You finish your breakfast and we'll go."

Ten minutes later they were in the car heading north to Manaus. Adolf's driver, Enrique, navigated as smoothly as ever on the uneven roads into the town. When they pulled up in front of the orphanage, Mikel exclaimed, "Hey! You tricked me! I don't wanna go back!"

"I did no such thing, Mikel," Adolf stated evenly. "I told you I had business in town today, and I do. Wait here with Enrique. I won't be long." With that, Adolf exited the car and went inside.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Enrique could see the boy's wheels turning about whether or not to make a run for it. He turned around to look at Mikel. "Hey," he said.

"What?" grumbled the boy.

"Mister Adolf is nice," Enrique said. "You can trust him." The only response he received was an icy stare. But the boy stopped fidgeting and took his hand off the door handle.

About ten minutes later, Adolf returned. "Enrique, head to the marketplace please," he directed. Then he looked at Mikel. "I think you could do with some new clothes. What do you think?" Again, he saw no readable expression in the gray eyes.

There was silence in the car for what seemed like forever. Then Adolf heard a small, muffled sound. He turned his attention from the window and glanced down at Mikel. The child had two tears slowly tracking down his face. "Why are you being nice to me?" Mikel managed.

"Because," Adolf said, "I wasn't too much older than you are when I lost my father. I know how it feels to be disconnected, and think you have to take on the world all by yourself. So," he continued, now with Mikel's undivided attention, "I talked to the headmaster at the orphanage and asked them to send me whatever papers I need to sign to have you come live with me – if you want to, that is."

A spark in those gray eyes and the wisp of a smile was the answer. 

# CHAPTER SIX

It was two minutes past eight p.m. on November the eighth, 1989, almost twelve hours into the vigil, and Manfred honestly thought Daniel would wear a hole in the floor. Back and forth, back and forth, sitting down for a moment, then up again. Manfred chuckled. "What's so funny?" Daniel asked.

"Oh, son, you just remind me of me when you were born," Manfred replied. "I paced, I chain-smoked, I drove the nurses crazy with questions every few minutes. Doesn't seem that long ago, either. Now I'm sitting here watching you about to be a father."

Daniel sat beside his father, grabbed the remote for the waiting room television, and began idly flipping channels almost as a reflex action. "I still feel silly for not being able to stay in there," he admitted. "But once I saw the needles, I had to leave."

"In my day, the fathers weren't even invited," Manfred told him. "We were banished to the waiting room. You tried, that's the main thing. And this baby will come, regardless of who's in there or not."

"Is he as nervous as he looks?" boomed a familiar voice. Daniel and Manfred turned toward the door and smiled.

"Uncle Max!" Daniel exclaimed, standing up to shake his hand. "Good to see you!"

"I didn't miss it, did I? Are we still in a holding pattern?" Max Jones shrugged off his overcoat and sat down next to the expectant father.

"Nope, still waiting," Daniel confirmed. "Mom's in there with Hope now."

The three settled into a comfortable silence while Daniel continued to turn the channels. Suddenly Max said, "Stop!" and then Manfred urged, "Turn this up, son." It was a breaking news story, and the church being shown onscreen was all too familiar.

The volume was increased just in time to hear the reporter say, "This beautiful structure, the Church of Reconciliation on Bernaur Strasse, was made inaccessible to most of its parishioners when the Wall dividing East and West Berlin was built back in 1961. With today's surprise announcement from the East German government, it seems to be only a matter of time before both East and West Berliners will be able to gather here once more."

Max and Manfred looked at each other, absolutely dumbfounded. Daniel said, "Dad. Isn't that the church you told me about, the one you and Mom got married in?"

"Yes, it is," Manfred responded.

"Manfred, when we get things done here, we'll need to..." Max began.

"It looks like we may be taking a trip, Max," Manfred finished.

Just then one of the obstetric nurses came to the waiting room to find Daniel. "The baby is here and healthy," she said. "And Hope's doing fine too. Would you like to see them?" Daniel almost ran her over on his way down the hall to his wife and new child.

Manfred and Max took a more leisurely stroll that direction. "I believe I will wait here," Max said at the doorway. "Take your time."

When Manfred entered the room, Daniel was seated in a chair right next to Hope's bed, cradling an infant in his arms and crying. "It's a girl, Dad, and she's gorgeous," he managed through the tears.

Manfred kissed Hope lightly on the forehead, then walked over to Rose and slipped his arm around her waist. Together they looked down at their granddaughter.

Hope, tired but smiling, reached out to take Rose's hand and said, "I am so glad you were here with me. And I know that my mom is here in spirit. Daniel and I decided that if we had a girl we would name her Isabella Rose, after her grandmothers." Rose smiled, and gently squeezed her daughter-in-law's hand.

After about half an hour it was obvious that Hope could use some rest. Manfred and Rose kissed and hugged her and Daniel, held Isabella for a few minutes, then stepped out into the hall to give the little family some bonding time. Max was where Manfred had left him, leaning against the wall, looking at his pager.

The men and Rose retreated to the waiting room, where Manfred brought her up to date about the breaking news coming from Berlin while Max made a call. "Oh," she said, her eyes widening. "I guess this means the two of you will be traveling?"

"That's the plan," Max responded, hanging up the phone. "We're on the afternoon flight out from Dulles tomorrow."

***

"... _surprise announcement from the East German government, it seems to be only a matter of time before both East and West Berliners will be able to gather here once more_."

Adolf turned off the television and sat for a moment, completely stunned. The Wall was going to come down. He had almost given up hope of ever being able to retrieve his treasure; that damn Wall had been in place for what? Almost thirty years now?

"Mikel," he called, still reeling.

Mikel came in from the library. "Yes, Dad?" he squeaked – his voice was beginning to change, Adolf noted with a touch of amusement.

"Son, something has come up and I need to take a trip. I shouldn't be gone longer than a week, ten days at the most. Be good for Raisa, okay?"

"Okay, Dad." Mikel went back to his books.

Adolf paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, then picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello," he said. "I need a ticket to Germany."

***

The following evening Adolf was walking through the Hannover airport on his way to baggage claim. He had arranged for a rental car to travel the two hours into Berlin. As he got behind the wheel, he mentally braced himself for the task at hand. Just because the old Church grounds would be accessible did not mean he could be careless. His plan was to find a hotel within reasonable walking distance of the graveyard and make his retrieval under cover of darkness. If all went well, he could be back in Manaus by Monday. Getting his bearings, Adolf left the airport, heading east on A2.

The travel by car went uneventfully. Adolf found himself in awe of how much Berlin had changed in the twenty-seven years he had been gone. As he made his way further into the heart of the West half of the city he could see where portions of the Wall had already been removed. The atmosphere around him was euphoric. Gripping the wheel a bit tighter, he maneuvered as close as he dared to his target area.

He spied a hotel ahead on his right and pulled smoothly into the valet parking line. By his estimation the Church was ahead and to the right approximately five blocks from the hotel.

_This could work nicely,_ he thought, handing his keys to the young man assigned to park his car. He checked in with the reception desk under the name Larsen – no point in taking chances – and settled into the tenth-floor room with an eastward-facing balcony that he had requested. From this vantage point he could easily spot the Church spires and bell tower in the moonlight, just about where he thought they would be. He raised his glass to his empty room and said aloud, "Our triumph is about to begin."

He had to fight the urge to race over and retrieve his prize tonight. _Patience,_ Adolf told himself. _You need to do reconnaissance in the daylight first to make sure._ He knew his inner voice was right, but it was still irritating. _Relax. It's been twenty-seven years. One more night won't hurt. Get some sleep._

Although Adolf did not know it, he was in a race to retrieve the items he had hidden so long ago. Manfred and Max were somewhere over the Atlantic and were scheduled to arrive in London in the wee hours of the following morning. They would be flying in a military transport late in the afternoon that would arrive directly at Templehof around dusk.

***

As Adolf was reluctantly drifting off, Max and Manfred were about forty minutes away from touching down in Glasgow. From there they would hop a smaller aircraft into Heathrow. The two sat in silence for much of the flight, each lost in thought. Manfred's mind had traveled back to the day he and his family had left their homeland. It was amazing to him that almost thirty years had passed since that first white-knuckle flight out of West Berlin.

_But we made the right choice, all of us,_ he thought to himself. Their lives had been fairly quiet since moving to Manassas – at least until yesterday. He smiled. His new granddaughter was just beautiful. Klaus and Emilie would have agreed, had they been there. Emilie had passed in her sleep in 1982, and Klaus followed her about six months later due to a broken heart. _It's the way things go, one big circle,_ he mused.

With an effort he pulled himself out of the past and back to the present. "What's the latest intel from Berlin?" he asked Max.

"Preliminary indications are that pieces of the Wall are already starting to come down toward the edges of the city." Max responded. "Given that your Church is in the heart of it, we may not be able to access it for a while."

"Possibly," Manfred pointed out. "But we should be able to cross at Charlie and at least go take a look, don't you think?"

"We'll see what happens," Max replied.

The announcement to fasten seat belts and secure table trays for the landing interrupted their conversation. Fifteen minutes later, after some of the worst turbulence either had experienced, they were safely on the ground. Disembarking, they headed toward baggage carousel nine, where they were met by RAF Corporal Jennings. Michael Smythe had sent him to collect Max and Manfred. "Flights in and out of London have been cancelled since this afternoon, sirs," he explained. "It's the fog. Yours is the last flight to land here, right before the heavy stuff rolled in. They've just cancelled remaining flights here too. We'll have to travel to London by train; the next one leaves in the morning."

"What about being able to leave London?" Max asked.

"Sir, the best reports indicate that the weather should clear sometime tomorrow afternoon," Jennings replied.

"Well, that screws up our plans a bit," Max muttered. He turned to Manfred and said, "How about dinner? We seem to have some time on our hands."

***

Adolf woke with the breaking dawn, slowly, leisurely. Stretching, he flipped the covers back and strode to the window to watch the dark sky transform into brilliant pinks and oranges. It was his first sunrise in his homeland in a very long time. He had been gone half his life.

He ordered eggs, sausages, toast, and coffee from room service at six. Then, whistling a little tune, he walked into the bathroom for a quick shower. He was dressed and tying his shoes when the food arrived. Adolf gestured to the balcony, and the server maneuvered the trolley to the door and placed the breakfast tray on the patio table. Adolf tipped him, saw him out, then sat down to his meal.

The first bite into one of the sausages almost drove him to tears – he had forgotten how exquisite German sausages were. Funny that he had taken them for granted back when he could get them all the time. Savoring each morsel, he sat contentedly on his balcony and watched Berlin come awake.

***

Max was more right about time than he knew. The corporal's news had been too optimistic. Fog held the region in its grip for over twenty hours and counting. In Smythe's office in London, Max and Manfred were dealing with boredom and anticipation. The train had delivered them into London around noon, the same time the transport into West Germany had been scheduled to take off. Since then they had been waiting on a call hoping to receive takeoff clearance. But the weather had failed to cooperate so far.

The phone rang shrilly just after five pm. Michael picked it up with an abrupt "Yes", listened, then smiled and said, "Very well." He replaced the receiver and gestured to the two anxious men sitting in his guest chairs.

"Seems you gents have caught a break," he said. "You need to get yourselves up to the RAF base in Greenham, about an hour north of here. They're saying you should be able to fly out between eight and nine tonight if the weather comes clear like they expect it to." Glancing at his watch, he continued, "You'll need to leave here in the next half hour, at the latest. London traffic is ghastly in the evenings."

***

_A pretty good day,_ Adolf reflected, as he sat down to a sumptuous meal of mushroom rouladen and broad noodles. Crossing over into East Berlin had been childishly simple, almost anticlimactic given that the last time he was in Berlin he was heading out of town and was almost caught and shot. As he strolled down the sidewalk, he passed an extremely old woman shuffling with a walker. A flicker of familiarity ran through his memory and was just as easily gone. Adolf continued toward the Church, paying no mind to her.

He had been pleasantly surprised to see that not only had his treasure remained undiscovered, but that markings he had made on the bricks so long ago were still visible if one knew where to look. He also noted that about ten feet away there was now a huge piece of concrete where once a tunnel opening had been. _Guess the Stasi found the tunnel,_ he thought to himself absently. All he had to do now was wait for nightfall, and he could unearth his package and be on his way.

As he chewed another bite of rouladen, he reviewed his plan again to make sure there were no flaws. He had already purchased a few tools and stashed them in the little shed at the back of the church. He had no real concerns about anyone connected with the Church discovering him – it evidently had been closed for years.

He glanced at his wristwatch – a little over an hour before sunset, he guessed. He smiled a strange little smile, took another sip of beer, and continued his delicious dinner.

***

Snowbird could not possibly get home fast enough. _Damn these arthritic knees,_ she thought. These days she really did need the walker. But her mind was as sharp at ninety-seven as it had ever been. She had recognized Adolf the moment he went past her. _I have to tell Max,_ she told herself, _or at least somebody in the West who can tell him._ After what seemed an eternity she was finally on her rooftop with her beloved birds. She chose her favorite, fastened the note to its leg, and set it loose.

***

Max and Manfred touched down at Tempelhof around nine-thirty p.m. Their plane was immediately met by a jeep and driver, who said, "Mr. Jones, we have a message for you that arrived via pigeon this afternoon. It was marked urgent."

Max took the note, read it, and cursed aloud. "Manfred, look," he muttered, thrusting the note out. Manfred reached for it with a growing dread. _I saw Adolf Werner this afternoon_ , it said.

"Max," Manfred stated solemnly, "we need to get to the Church."

They climbed into the Army jeep and drove as fast as they dared. They were waved through Checkpoint Charlie almost as if the city had never been divided. The driver stopped in front of the church and had not even shifted into park when Max and Manfred leapt from the vehicle and started around the side of the building, flashlights on.

"Where is it?" Max urged.

"Give me a moment. I have to get my bearings," Manfred tersely replied. He oriented himself by glancing at the church, then said, "This way, follow me." They traveled to the southernmost edge of the graveyard and saw what used to be the tunnel opening, now sealed with concrete.

"Maybe that's why Peter tried going over rather than under," Manfred muttered bitterly. Pointing to his right, he continued, "The area Adolf was digging in is over there, about ten feet away. We'll have to look for some markings."

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" Max exclaimed. "No, we won't. Look."

They trained their lights and stared despondently at the freshly dug empty hole at the base of the Wall.

***

"And how many bags will you be checking this evening sir?" the overly perky booking agent at Hannover airport asked.

"Just one," the passenger said, hefting his suitcase onto the scale.

"Very well," she replied briskly.

"Oh, and miss? I would like to upgrade to first class, please," he said.

With a few more keystrokes he was on his way to his terminal gate, boarding pass in his left hand, the keys to his kingdom tucked securely in the briefcase in his right.

He boarded and took his seat on the aisle, placing his briefcase next to him against the bulkhead. A flight attendant asked him if he preferred a mixed drink or champagne.

"Champagne, I think – it's been a very good day," Adolf said with a smile. 

# SECTION THREE: - Full Circle – 1997 - 2009

# CHAPTER SEVEN

"Coming," Manfred called out as he traveled from the living room to answer the front door. He stopped, stooping down, and said in a loud, gruff voice, "Who comes knocking at my door?"

The giggle of delight that sounded from the other side gave him his answer. He swung the door open and was immediately rushed for a hug and kiss by his granddaughter. Picking her up, he twirled her around. "Hello, my Bellissima," he said.

"Hi, Grandpa!" Bella answered. "Guess what? I got all A's on my report cards all year, and I got the third-grade citizenship award, and we went for ice cream, and..."

"Bella, for goodness' sake," Hope said, laughing. "You've got a whole week to spend with Granma and Grandpa. There'll be plenty of time to tell them everything that's happened since Easter."

The child's pout was short-lived when she spied Rose in the kitchen doorway.

"I sure wish someone was willing to taste the cookies for me to make sure they're all right," Rose offered. Daniel and Bella's faces both lit up, and everyone laughed as they headed toward freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

"So, does it feel like ten years have passed already?" Rose asked Hope.

"Yes, and no," Hope said. "Daniel and I are so in sync that sometimes it's like we've been married fifty years instead of just ten. Other times I look at him and he still takes my breath away, like when we were dating."

Rose responded with a knowing smile.

Daniel, meanwhile, handed his dad a slip of paper. "This is where we'll be staying in Kentucky, if you need to reach us."

"Nonsense," Manfred replied. "We'll be fine here. Go focus on your lovely bride. A ten-year anniversary is a special thing, a milestone. Go enjoy it, and we'll see you when you get back."

Manfred, Rose, and Bella stood on the front porch and waved until Daniel and Hope were out of sight. Then Manfred looked down and said, "Who's up for popcorn and a movie?"

Seeing a raised eyebrow from Rose, he added, "After dinner, that is."

***

Hope reached over and took her husband's hand as they talked and drove east. They had booked a week at a bed and breakfast nestled in the Appalachian Mountains, and they both had been looking forward to the trip.

_He's my best friend,_ she thought as she listened to him talking. _God, we are so lucky. So many couples never find what we have._

"Baby, I have a surprise for you," Daniel was saying. "I found out they've got a fair going on this weekend in Charleston. So, I booked a room there for tonight, and we'll get to the B&B on Sunday. Wanna ride the Ferris wheel with me?"

"Only if you buy me cotton candy," she smiled, and squeezed his hand.

Later, as they sat snuggled in a cart at the top of the Ferris wheel watching the sunset, Hope laid her head on Daniel's shoulder and sighed contentedly. "Honey," she said, "thank you so much for this. It's just beautiful."

Daniel pulled her closer, kissing her forehead, and replied, "Yep, just about been the perfect day."

And Hope raised her head. She had planned on telling him while they were in the mountains, but she couldn't wait.

"How attached are you to the home office?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow and said teasingly, "I have you up here in a romantic setting, watching a beautiful sunset, and that's what's on your mind? The home office?"

"No, seriously, I need to know," she replied. "Unless you can think of another room in our house that will make a good nursery."

The beautiful sunset they had been watching paled in comparison to the love and joy that spread across his face. "Really?" he asked.

"Really," she said. "The doctor called me this morning. I'm due around Christmas."

***

Rose and Manfred sat watching the fireflies in the backyard. Bella was safely tucked into bed upstairs; she had fallen asleep just after the Beast had turned back into the Prince. Although she had seen the movie hundreds of times, it never got old. And they never tired of watching her joy.

The phone ringing broke the comfortable silence. Manfred returned a few minutes later with a smile on his face. "That was Daniel and Hope, checking in on Bella," he said, chuckling. "They're in Charleston at a county fair. I told them whatever you do, don't tell Bella you had rides and cotton candy without her."

***

Daniel replaced the phone on the hook and stepped out of the phone booth. "She's sleeping already," he told his wife.

"I could have told you that," Hope replied. "And I bet _Beauty & the Beast_ is what sent her off to sleep, too."

"Oh yes," Daniel responded. "Dad made sure he mentioned the movie. How many times has she watched it? A hundred? Two hundred?"

"I actually think it's even higher than that," Hope said as they climbed into the car. "But it's at least got a good moral-of-the-story thing going on."

"Well, I think we ought to find some ice cream and celebrate our other thing going on," Daniel said, leaning over to kiss her. "We passed a little parlor when we came into town. Let's head there."

"Sounds good. The baby's been craving mint chocolate chip," Hope replied with a mischievous smile.

They maneuvered out of the dusty parking lot and headed toward dessert. As Daniel drove, he could not keep from smiling. The love of his life was carrying his second child. He had wanted to tell his dad on the phone, but Hope had made him promise to wait until they came back from their trip. She wanted to tell them, and Bella, in person.

***

Stan just didn't feel right. He had been driving the same route now for twenty-five years, and it had never exhausted him like it did today. _Damn this getting old stuff,_ he thought. He had just turned fifty. But his doctor said the same thing every year at the physical – _Stan, you're healthier than some 20-year-olds I've seen._

But today he had just been really tired. Fortunately, he was almost back to the yard, and he could drop the trailer and go home and rest. _Maybe it's the flu or something_ , he thought. _I just wish this God-awful headache would go away._ Luckily, he was off the next two days. That would give him a chance to kick whatever bug had him feeling like hell.

As he made his way down Main, he noticed a little passenger car ahead of him waiting at the light. Suddenly his vision seemed to explode into a multi-color starburst. His head felt like it was splitting in two at the right temple. His last conscious thought was of a stabbing ache behind his right eye. Then there was only darkness as he slumped forward.

***

Daniel happened to glance up, and froze, looking in his rear-view mirror in shock.

"Honey, hang on!" he shouted to Hope. "The truck's not stopping!"

He started to try to turn the car hard to the left.

But he was too late.

Thirty-five thousand pounds of accelerating big rig tore into the helpless little car at just over fifty miles an hour with a horrific thud. The car followed the direction its front wheels were pointed and snapped around, heading underneath the side of the truck's trailer just behind the cab. Amidst the shrieks of steel impacting steel and booms of blowing tires a single scream sounded, followed by an eerie silence.

An eternity of seconds passed before each vehicle came to rest almost one hundred feet from the point of impact, with the trailer's back wheels lodged firmly on top of the car. Onlookers rushed to help and were driven back as the car's ruptured fuel tank exploded into flames.

***

Manfred and Rose's front door chime sounded around two a.m. _This had damn well better be important,_ Manfred thought as he groggily pulled on his robe and staggered to the front door. He opened it, blinking in disbelief. What the hell were two policemen doing on his front porch at this time of morning?

"Manfred Amsel?" the younger officer asked.

"Yes," Manfred said, rather curtly.

"Sir, we need to talk to you and your wife. May we come in please?" the older of the two asked.

"Certainly," Manfred replied, with a knot of fear growing in his belly. "Have a seat in the living room. My wife and I will be down shortly."

The policemen showed themselves to the living area while Manfred went upstairs to wake Rose. The knot in his stomach had tripled in size. He roused her, and hand in hand they returned downstairs.

The older officer pulled his chair beside the couch where Rose and Manfred had sat down nervously. "Sir, Ma'am, my name is Thomas, and I am the police chaplain," he began gently. "Daniel and Hope were involved in an accident up in Charleston this evening."

***

Bella sat in the window seat with her forehead leaning against the glass, looking out at the rain, the pain in her heart mocked by the spatter against the window panes. Manfred and Rose stood in the doorway, knowing exactly how she felt, unsure how to comfort her.

It had been a little bit easier on them to only have graveside services – open casket had just not been possible. Twin coffins lowered into the earth simultaneously as "Amazing Grace" played solemnly in the background. Then family and friends had retreated to the Amsel home to support one another and to grieve three lives lost – the news of Hope's pregnancy had been relayed by the coroner.

Finally, Rose, Manfred, and Bella were alone. Bella had not cried or said a word in the last three days. While they were extremely concerned about her, Manfred and Rose knew that she needed to process what had happened in her own space and in her own way. So they stood, arms around each other, watching, hoping their granddaughter would reach out.

Now she turned to them, tears flowing freely, and said, "I guess this is my home now." Her body racking with sobs, she ran for them blindly.

"Oh, Bellissima," Manfred whispered, scooping her up in his arms. He walked back over to the window seat with her, Rose close behind. Sitting down with Bella, Manfred and Rose both wrapped their arms around her, and their tears mingled with hers.

For a long while they sat huddled together, a ragged band of survivors overwhelmed with grief and pain. No words were spoken; there were none that could make it better.

Eventually Bella's thin frame shook less and less, and her breathing became less hitched. Manfred very gently picked her up and Rose pulled back the bedcovers. Placing Bella as softly as possible into her bed, Manfred and Rose kissed her on the forehead and quietly left her to sleep.

***

"You must remember not to give your enemy advance notice of your movements, Mikel," Adolf said, stretching out a hand to help him up off the floor. "The unexpected gives you the advantage in a fight. Try it again."

They repositioned and once again Mikel lunged with the training knife, but this time in a sideswiping motion, forcing Adolf to pivot on the knee he had strained two days ago. "That's it!" Adolf remarked, albeit with a wince. "Much better. Always search out your enemy's point of weakness and exploit it. Everyone has one."

Mikel grinned in response.

_He has natural ability, and no qualms whatsoever about using it_ , Adolf thought to himself while smiling back. _I'm glad he's on my side_.

Another thirty minutes, and the session was over. Mikel headed for a run and then a shower. Adolf made his way to the hot tub and sank aching joints gratefully into the warmth.

Flipping on the jets, he reflected on Mikel's training to date. Adolf had passed on all the knowledge he had received from his real and surrogate fathers. He brought in the best tutors money could buy to make sure Mikel had the best possible education. He also baptized Mikel's mind into Nazi beliefs. The boy took to the mantra as naturally as breathing, which pleased Adolf greatly.

And now his adopted son was seventeen, and a good six inches taller than Adolf. He had become a perfect example of Hitler's "master race" – tall, blond, magnificently built, with those ghostly grey eyes that took in everything and conveyed nothing. Mikel was also completely lethal, with or without a weapon. Most importantly, he had an unswerving loyalty both to Adolf and to the Reich.

Leaning back slightly in the spa, Adolf had a revelation. _That's the way to build my army,_ he realized. _Take in troubled kids that no one wants._ It would provide a reputable cover for recruitment. Grinning, he sank a little deeper into the water.

Now his mind turned to the other matter at hand – where to resurrect the Reich. Brazil had been very good for him, no doubt, but was hardly a launching point. _What about America?_ he asked himself. _Freedom of everything there. Hell, not even border guards – go where you want when you want all across the United States. Play the cards right and no one suspects anything until it's too late._

He liked it, the dark irony of it. America, one of the cursed enemies that helped destroy his Fuhrer, could now be the birthplace of the Reich coming back to glory. He even knew the perfect place in America – he had foreseen it in his dreams so many years ago. The desert. Arizona. Climbing out of the hot tub, he reached for a towel and headed indoors to make a couple of calls. 

# CHAPTER EIGHT

"This doesn't feel right," Bella said, frowning. Glancing at her grandparents in the mirror, she continued, "Is the front of this thing supposed to be low like this?"

Manfred chuckled. "I know it seems strange, but yes – the front of the mortarboard cap is supposed to come to about mid-forehead, hit a couple of inches above the eyebrows."

"Well, whoever invented these had no sense of fashion," Bella remarked with a mischievous twinkle. She twirled around in her cap and gown, and with one hand on her hip said, "How do I look?"

"Stunning as ever," Rose replied. "Just one thing's missing." And stepping forward, she fastened the strand of tiny pearls around Bella's neck. She kissed Bella's cheek, held her hands, and asked, "Are you nervous about your speech?"

"A little," Bella admitted. "I mean, I knew I'd have to give one, being the valedictorian. But it's one thing to practice in your room, and another to stand in front of the entire school and do it."

"You'll be fine, Bellissima," Manfred soothed. "You're like a cat – you always land on your feet."

As they headed down to the car, Bella said, "Oh, I was thinking about what we talked about. I do want to start college over the summer term. The sooner I get started the sooner I can finish."

"I still think you ought to take a little break, sweetheart," Rose answered. "But of course, it's your decision."

Forty-five minutes later Manfred and Rose were beaming with pride as their granddaughter was among the graduates taking their seats for the ceremony. Rose grasped her husband's hand, leaned her head on his shoulder, and whispered, "When do you think we ought to tell her, dear?"

"After the ceremony, my love," Manfred replied, clasping her tiny hand with both of his. "Let's tell her tonight."

***

"A pleasure, as always, Mr. Metzger," the Senator said, striding forward with an outstretched hand to greet his guest. "How are things in Macapa?"

"As usual," Adolf remarked. "The mining business continues much as it has been for decades. My reason for coming to see you is of a completely different nature."

"Would you like some coffee?" asked the Senator, motioning Adolf toward an overstuffed armchair.

"That would be nice," Adolf replied, reclining gracefully in his Armani suit.

"I understand you've done quite well with your troubled youth programs in Virginia, Chicago, and Philadelphia," the Senator said, making small talk as the aide brought forward cups.

"Indeed," Adolf responded. "We have several hundred young men whose lives we are helping to turn around." And he thought to himself, _Oh, if you only knew..._

The two watched the aide set the coffee service in silence. Once the young man had departed, Adolf poured himself a cup, added cream and sugar, stirred it delicately, and said, "Senator, I have two propositions for you. The first is that I would like to expand the troubled youth programs to facilities across the country, and I would like to build the headquarters in Phoenix. There are so many more kids out there without families that need guidance. We can reach more of them if we go nationwide."

"Quite a noble undertaking," the Senator murmured.

"The second request is rather.... unique. But, not only will it bring a very healthy revenue stream into your home state, it will have the environmentalist movements you champion making huge leaps forward, and your colleagues eating out of your hand."

The Senator leaned forward, intrigued. "And what, pray tell, would accomplish that?"

"Water power," Adolf said simply.

"What?" the Senator asked.

"Water power," Adolf repeated. "I have some brilliant men, engineers and scientists, that work for me in Brazil. We are very close to figuring out how to harness heavy water to power machinery. But as you can imagine, the resources to pursue this are more plentiful here in the United States than in South America."

"Impressive, and revolutionary. But what does this have to do with me?" the Senator queried.

"Well," Adolf replied, "I would like to build a facility in your state to pursue this research. If it goes the way I think it will, it will greatly benefit us both, as well as the world." He stood and walked to the window.

"Think of it, Senator," he continued, gazing out the window, "no more bickering about holes in the ozone, no more wars over out of control oil prices. Water is plentiful and recyclable. Many more jobs created here in the United States, and so forth. Everyone wins. And you will be revered for your pivotal part in it all."

Turning from the window, he stated, "But, I need your help to obtain permits and so forth. The sooner this project starts, the better. With any luck, you'll be able to present a brilliant alternative energy bill to the House and Senate within the next four years."

Gazing at the Senator, Adolf rejoiced inside. He could tell the man had fallen for it, hook line and sinker. But his face remained impassive as he asked, "What do you think? May I count on your assistance, Senator?"

"I see no reason why Metzger Industries wouldn't be able to build a place in Arizona," smiled the Senator. "Let me know what you need. I'll make sure you don't run into any problems. Did you have a specific area in mind?"

***

Manfred, Rose, Bella, and Bella's best friend Stacy sat together around the dinner table, commenting on the ceremony. "Bel, your speech was so amazing!" Stacy exclaimed. "Were you nervous? Cause you didn't look nervous at all. Seriously."

"I was absolutely petrified," Bella said with a little laugh. "But I got through it somehow."

"So, Stacy, Bella told me you've been accepted into the University of Phoenix also," Rose commented. "That's wonderful. I suppose the two Musketeers will be roommates?"

"That's the plan, Mrs. A," Stacy replied. "I am so excited. I know Bel's wanting to get started out there right away, but I'm not planning on going out until the fall semester. I want to have one last summer home with no commitments before I dive into the college world."

"Still planning on studying chemistry, Stacy?" Manfred asked, as he scooped up a forkful of cheddar mashed potatoes.

Stacy sipped her tea before saying, "Yes, sir. But I have been thinking about it, and I'm leaning more toward a double major now – chemistry and math."

"Ew," Bella chimed in. "Give me literature or language any day." At this, everyone laughed.

Stacy and Bella had been best friends since fourth grade, although they were polar opposites – Stacy was short with an athletic build, red hair, green eyes, and freckles and a fiery personality to match, who lived and breathed the sciences, while Bella was tall and slender, ebony hair and cornflower blue eyes, and had a passion for music, literature, and languages. But they had a friendship that transcended the differences.

"Well, I'm pleased that our Bellissima will be out in Arizona with at least one person she knows," Manfred stated. "Her grandmother and I will rest a little easier knowing the two of you are together so far from home." Rose nodded in agreement.

Dinner was finished and a bit more small talk made before Stacy headed home to her aunt's house two blocks over. Manfred and Bella washed and dried the dishes and Rose handled putting everything away. As the last fork went into the drawer Manfred looked at his wife, who nodded. "Bella," he said, "come sit down with us for a bit."

They sat at the little table in the breakfast nook, and Manfred and Rose broke the news as gently as they could. "Bella," Rose said. "You know I've not been feeling well lately. "

"I know," Bella said. "I've been concerned about you."

"Well, sweetheart, Dr. Gable had some tests run. Your grandfather and I got the results yesterday afternoon."

"And?" Bella said with a raised eyebrow and a knotted stomach.

"It's cancer, sweetie," Rose said simply.

Immediately Bella's hand shot from her lap to grab her grandmother's. Squeezing Rose's hand, she asked, "So what do we do now?"

"We'll be scheduling surgery sometime in the next few weeks," Manfred answered, covering their hands with his. "Dr. Gable seems to think that we can get it all surgically. Then a round of chemo, just to make sure. But the prognosis is good," he added hastily as he watched Bella's eyes swim with tears. "He says we caught it early."

And Bella straightened her shoulders, looked Rose in the eyes, and said, "I'm not leaving for Arizona until I know you're okay."

***

Adolf smiled to himself as the limo made its way through the traffic around DuPont Circle. _That was even easier than I thought,_ he mused to himself. He knew the Senator was an avid environmentalist but also power-hungry and full of self-importance; he had counted on the man reacting precisely as he did. The whole heavy water thing was a complete ruse, of course. But no one need know that except him and Mikel. He had no intention of squandering any more time and money than was necessary to keep the charade in place until his armies were ready to strike.

In the meantime, his capability to recruit young minds into the fold would increase exponentially. _Not much longer, really,_ his inner voice said. _I'll have this nation on its knees bowing to Nazi superiority within the next five years at this rate._

He raised the privacy shield, picked up the car's telephone, and dialed. "Mikel," he murmured, "I'm on the way back. We have much to do."

***

"How are you feeling today, Granma?" Bella asked as she opened the curtains a bit.

"Much better," Rose replied, sitting up a little. "Looking forward to today being over with."

"Me too," Bella said, coming to sit on the side of the bed. "But you've handled the treatments brilliantly. Just one more, and you're done."

"Thank God for that," Rose answered. "And then, young lady, you can stop fussing over me and get yourself out to Phoenix. The fall term starts in two weeks, and you need to allow time to get settled in out there."

"Are you running me off, Granma?" Bella asked with a mock pout.

Rose laughed. "Not at all, dear. But I'm fine, I promise. Everything has gone better than we hoped so far – right, my love?" she asked as Manfred appeared in the doorway with a tray.

"Absolutely, sweetheart," he answered, moving closer with breakfast. "They were even able to spare that glorious hair of yours." He set the tray across Rose's lap, then leaned forward and kissed her gently.

The three made small talk while Rose ate. And Manfred was right. Dr. Gable had opted for radiation therapy instead of the chemo, and in minimal amounts – the tumor had been completely removed with surgery. Although she had been very tired after each round, Rose still had her lovely dark locks, albeit more tinged with silver than before.

They dressed and gathered their things for the trip to the treatment center. As they walked out to the car, Stacy arrived on her bicycle.

"Good, I made it in time," she said, huffing a little as she dismounted and walked toward them. "I was running late and worried I would miss you."

"You're welcome to come with us," Rose offered. "But I have to warn you it will be pretty dull for you, waiting around while I get the treatment."

"But it's your last one, and I feel like you're my Granma too, so I really want to come," Stacy answered, smiling. "Besides, I brought the school catalog with me. I figure Bel and I can look at some stuff about the campus. We also need to try to decide something on room colors," she finished, looking at Bella with a raised eyebrow.

"I thought we settled on pink polka dots," said Bella with mock seriousness.

"Perish the thought – neither of us are that girly!" exclaimed Stacy.

"Pink polka dots? Makes my head hurt. All right, you two, in the car!" Manfred said with an exaggerated scowl.

At this all four of them laughed. The girls piled into the backseat. Manfred made sure Rose was belted safely into the front seat, then took his place behind the wheel. As they pulled down the driveway, he thought, _thank you, Lord, this is the last time we'll have to make this trip._

Almost as if she knew what he was thinking, Rose reached over quietly and squeezed his hand, then leaned back against the headrest and smiled as she listened to her granddaughter and her best friend argue prints versus paisley.

***

"Well, what do you think so far?" Adolf said, gesturing to the drawings.

"Spectacular, Father," Mikel answered, peering slightly over Adolf's shoulder. "What direction will it face?"

"The front gate will be over there," Adolf indicated to his left. "The drive will proceed this way about 300 meters. The front steps will be just about twenty feet to our right." He continued, "Of course, from the ground floor up it will look and function like a boarding school. The subfloors, however, will have state of the art security. No one will get down there unless they are allowed to by us."

"And the rooms?" Mikel inquired.

"Connected by a tunnel from sub-floor 3," Adolf responded. "And I think you will be very pleased with the accoutrements I have planned there."

The men turned and walked slowly, studying the blueprint as they went. "What were you thinking about perimeter wall height?" Mikel asked.

Adolf shrugged. "Not sure yet. It has to be a fortress, without the appearance of one. People will be suspicious of an exterior wall topped with razor wire around what's supposed to be the headquarters of a youth program."

Mikel walked silently for a moment, then said, "What if we modified the exterior wall so that when the time comes to unveil the Reich, it can have razor wire on top?"

Adolf stopped in his tracks. He turned to his adopted son and said, "What did you have in mind?"

Mikel grinned. 

# CHAPTER NINE

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I might have your attention please," the Senator said. "I would like to welcome you all to this ribbon-cutting ceremony. We stand here on the threshold of this magnificent structure, which will give help and hope to so many young men and women in need. I hope that today marks a great chapter in this country's commitment to its young people, the backbone of its future." He paused to receive polite applause.

"I would like to introduce to you the man who has invested so much in the future of America's children," he continued. "Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Adolf W. Metzger." And he gestured Adolf toward the podium.

Adolf waited for the crowd to stop clapping. Then he spoke. "I am honored that you all could join us today," he intoned. "This building, whose doors we are about to open for the first time, marks a continuing commitment to troubled youths all over the United States. This journey began several years ago, with pilot programs in Chicago, Philadelphia, and Virginia. The success of these locations became the catalyst that brings us here today. With expansion of our outreach programs nationwide, we will be able to forever change thousands of young lives."

As he talked, smoothly delivering the speech he had rehearsed, Adolf's mind was somewhere else. _So close, we are so close,_ the voice in his head repeated in sing-song fashion. He felt like dancing, but with practiced self-control returned his full attention to the enraptured crowd before him.

"And so, let me welcome you all to the Metzger Youth Institute," he finished. Moving to the front of the podium, he and the Senator posed with the ribbon and oversized scissors for several flashbulbs before making the ceremonial cut.

Later, as he mingled and made small talk, he noticed the Senator approaching from the left. Gracefully extracting himself from his present conversation, he strolled along with the Senator down the hall and showed the politician into his office.

"I am impressed, Adolf," the Senator said, shaking Adolf's hand. "This place is absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you, Senator,' Adolf replied silkily. "We already have a hundred and forty-five young people from Oregon and California scheduled to arrive here within the week, and we've have received inquiries from state foster homes in Texas, New Mexico, Utah, and Missouri."

"What's the total capacity here?"

"We planned for up to five hundred as a start," Adolf replied, pouring himself and his guest a drink. "And, we allotted space on the grounds for expansion. If we have the success that I think we will, we may be adding wings to this building within the next two years."

"By the way," the Senator remarked as he accepted the glass his host offered him, "I spoke to the Chancellor at the University. They are very receptive to your request to build an internship program in conjunction with your Foundation. It would provide their graduates an excellent opportunity to incur some real-life teaching experiences, and you with a steady stream of very intelligent instructors and tutors."

"Most definitely a win-win," Adolf replied. "It will also allow me to perhaps expand the curriculum here." And in his mind, he thought, _and yet another opportunity to build my army._

"Any problems receiving accreditation?" asked the Senator.

"None," Adolf smiled. "Everything went smoothly."

"So," said the Senator, swirling his drink, "Any progress on the research facility?" _A-hah,_ Adolf thought. _Finally, we reach the true topic he's interested in._

"Not as much as there should have been to date," Adolf replied. "My focus has been getting this place up and running first."

The Senator did a poor job of concealing a disappointed look, and said, "Understandable. The kids must come first, of course."

_What a crock_ , Adolf's mind ranted. _This arrogant bastard wants the money and the limelight that 'heavy water' would bring. He is in for such a shock!_

But he simply smiled, laid a hand on the Senator's shoulder, and said, "All in good time. It will be worth the wait, I assure you."

***

"Bel!"

Loud humming.

"Hey Bel!"

Loud humming.

"BELLA AMSEL!!"

Bella turned off the hair dryer. "WHAT?"

"Bel, have you seen my calculator?" Stacy called, rummaging through the computer desk drawers.

"It was on top of the TV two days ago," Bella answered, and flipped her hair dryer back on. And sighed and turned it off again as Stacy appeared in the bathroom doorway looking panicked.

"Oh Bel, help me find it! I gotta be across campus for my Trig final in half an hour," Stacy pleaded.

"I thought you were a human calculator," Bella said dryly as she moved to the living room and lifted couch cushions.

"I love you too, smartass," Stacy snapped as she stomped down the hall to her room to check it again.

Meanwhile Bella wandered into the kitchen, spotted the wayward calculator on top of the microwave, retrieved it, and headed back into the living room to wait patiently.

Stacy came barreling down the hallway and stopped in her tracks when she spied the prize in Bella's hand. "You found it! I really DO love you!!" Stacy flung herself at Bella and hugged her before grabbing the calculator. She turned her loose and began hastily shoving things into her backpack.

"Don't you want to know where I found it?"

"No time," Stacy sang as she headed out the door. "Gotta go. Professor B will throttle me if I walk in late again."

Shaking her head, Bella retreated to the bathroom to finish getting ready herself. Today was an important day. She had been selected to interview with the Metzger Youth Institute for a tutoring position in the fall. The first cool thing about it was she would be getting electives credit for it. The second cool thing was she was only a sophomore; most of these positions were filled by seniors or graduates. But her 4.0 GPA and her ability to speak French, German, and Russian fluently had landed her on Student Services radar.

And the third and perhaps most cool thing about it was - she would be getting paid. PAID. To speak in languages she loved with all her heart, and to teach others to speak them too. This would be a dream come true if it happened. She'd be able to hang up the apron she wore while working the coffee bar in the student union building once the fall term started.

Not that slinging double half-caf foamy latte was a bad thing. But it would be nice to earn more than minimum wage.

Not to mention having the Metzger Youth Institute at the beginning of one's resume couldn't do any harm either. Bella smiled as she checked herself one last time in the mirror.

_Here's to the future,_ she thought, as she knocked back the rest of her orange juice before brushing her teeth.

***

Mikel stopped on the landing and stared at the stunning creature walking toward him. Well, not toward him, actually. Toward the headmaster's office just to the left at the base of the stairs. He could not stop himself from watching her; slender but curvy, with glossy jet-black hair down to her waist that swayed as she walked. She looked straight ahead and did not notice him.

She's perfect, like a china doll.

Which was a weird thought, even for him. He viewed most everyone and everything around him as inanimate, set there purely as tools for his entertainment and use. The only person he had ever had any sort of positive feelings for was his father. But the girl he had just seen struck his senses in a wholly different and completely new way.

Had Mikel been wired like other twenty-eight-year-olds he might have recognized the feeling for what it was – love at first sight. But for him anything other than contempt for those around him was foreign, so he didn't know how to process what was welling up inside him. He found himself wanting to follow her, touch her, hold her, possess her. It unnerved him.

He crept down the stairs, close enough to the open doorway to hear her say, "Hello, I'm Bella, nice to meet you, Mr. Wallace," before the headmaster closed the door for their meeting.

_Bella. My angel's name is Bella,_ Mikel's mind repeated dreamily as he made his way to the elevator. She must be here for one of the tutoring positions. Mikel decided he would do whatever it took to make sure she got one.

***

The ringing buzzer signaled the arrival of a visitor.

"Yes?" Stacy said into the intercom.

"It's Brad."

Stacy pressed the button. "C'mon up." Then, knocking on Bella's bedroom door, she called out, "Hey."

"I'll be out in a sec. The money's on the coffee table."

Stacy scooped up the cash and met Brad, their pizza deliveryman and her boyfriend, at the door with a kiss. "Man," he said, walking into the kitchen, "a tip, _and_ a kiss? How many other sustenance procurement technicians do you treat like this?"

"Sustenance procurement technicians??" Bella said, laughing as she strolled in. "Seriously?"

Stacy mock pouted in the kitchen doorway. "So, are we really your last stop this time, or is your boss going to be a jerk again?"

"Sure thing," Brad said, putting his arms around her. "I made sure that this was my last one for the night."

"How've you been, Brad?" Bella asked as she got out three plates and some sodas.

"Fantastic," he replied. "As a matter of fact, I have awesome news." Reaching for a slice, he continued, "When I graduate next month, I have a job lined up already. I've accepted an offer from the biggest accounting firm in Los Angeles."

Stacy squealed and hugged him. "That's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "And it fits perfectly into our plans."

"So, you two are moving to California?" Bella said. "I thought all that was up in the air."

"Well, we had pretty much decided to leave here already," Stacy answered. "The pivot point was who was going to offer Brad the best deal, Boston or Los Angeles." She took his hand, and continued, "But we really wanted it to be L.A. so I could go to Cal Tech."

"When are you going?" Bella asked.

"I'll be leaving to find a place out there in the next week or so," Brad said. "They want me to start August first."

"And I will finish out the fall here, then move out there over the holiday break. With any luck I'll be taking classes at Cal Tech come spring. I've already sent my application, so it should all work out," Stacy finished.

"Well, I have some pretty cool news myself," Bella said with a twinkle. "I had my interview out at the Metzger Youth Institute today. I think it's down to me and one other person. Hopefully I will hear something within the next week."

And Stacy squealed again, and hugged Bella tightly. "That is just so awesome! When would you start?"

"September," Bella said. "Unless I can rearrange my summer schedule to start sooner."

***

Mikel paused with his knuckles on the door. _God, it's tiresome having to pretend to give a shit what people say,_ he groaned inwardly. But it was the only way to obtain the information he wanted. He rapped on the door and entered.

"So, I was just wondering how the tutor search was going," Mikel said as casually as he could manage.

Wallace looked up from his screen. "Very well. As a matter of fact, we've hired all but one. I am particularly impressed with the languages tutor candidates. They are both fluent in French, German, and Russian and each would give our kids some much needed support in their studies."

Subtlety was not Mikel's strong suit. Trying his best to sound nonchalant, he asked, "Was one of them the dark-headed girl that came in today?"

"Why, yes, as a matter of fact she is," replied the oblivious headmaster. "The single thing that works against her is she's only a sophomore. Brendan, however, graduates next month, which means we could have him full-time without having to work around his school schedule."

"I see," Mikel said, his mind racing. "Glad I don't have to make the choice."

He made a little more inane small talk and worked his way out of the headmaster's office. Free at last, he surreptitiously glanced at the visitor sign-in log. _Brendan C. Jones_ was written in a strong hand, along with his address.

"Well, Mr. Jones," Mikel murmured to himself as he walked out to his car, "I'm sorry, but you're not _my_ first choice."

***

Bella hung up the phone and came dancing into the kitchen.

"You got it, didn't you?" Stacy asked, holding her breath.

"Yes, yes, yes!!" Bella exclaimed, and was immediately knocked short of breath by Stacy hugging her tightly.

The phone interrupted their celebration. "I'll get it," Bella offered.

"Hello?" she said cheerily. Then, "Oh hi Grandpa, I was going to call you later, I have the most amazing news...." Her voice faltered and she grew silent. "What?" she said, alarmed.

Hearing the change in Bella's tone, Stacy came out to the living room to see Bella still on the phone with tears in her eyes. "Okay," she was saying. "I'll be there in the next couple of days. Love you too." She hung up the phone, looked at Stacy, and sobbed, "Granma's cancer came back."

***

"I thought you were going with the young man," Adolf frowned as he looked at the list.

"I was going to," Wallace replied, "but he hasn't returned my calls in three days, so I guess he found a better offer. I'd wager the young lady's more proficient than he is in Russian anyway."

Just then his desk phone rang. He answered, listened, offered sympathy, and finished his conversation with, "Of course my dear. We'll make do until you can get here. Take the time you need with your family."

Hanging up the receiver, he looked at Adolf and said, "Speak of the devil. That was her. I'm afraid her start date with us may be postponed. Poor thing, she has a family emergency back East."

***

The following evening, on the outskirts of town, a property owner called authorities to report an abandoned car in the open fields behind his place. The policeman responding to the call found the body of a young man in the trunk. The victim still had his wallet and credit cards, and the car was registered to him. There were no obvious injuries, no suspects, no trace evidence, and no witnesses. The murder of Brendan C Jones would quickly become a cold case.

***

"Happy New Year, Granma," Bella said, trying to cheer up the hospital room.

No response.

Bella moved closer to the bed. Rose was sleeping deeply, no doubt from all the medications they were giving her. In June, Dr. Gable had opted to try surgery again to solve the problem. But on the operating table, they found that Rose's ovarian cancer had already spread to her entire abdomen. There was nothing to be done surgically.

Now, after six months of aggressive chemotherapy treatments, Rose was just about out of strength. Her beautiful dark hair had long since disappeared. Bella's had barely grown back out to shoulder length – she had had much of her waist-length tresses cut off to fashion a wig for Rose.

Bella sighed, and stepped out of the room to talk to Melanie, Rose's nurse for the night. Melanie was a robust black woman with a Southern drawl who had been a nurse for twenty years, and she was one of Bella's favorites.

"How'd she do last night, Mel? And be honest," Bella said.

"Not good, baby girl," Melanie answered. "We've had to increase her pain meds. Doc Gable will be around in a few minutes. He's going to want to talk to you and your grandfather." Laying a motherly hand on Bella's shoulder, she continued, "I've been prayin for her, and for you two, since I met ya'll. But baby girl, what she's going through right now, it ain't livin. You know that."

"I know," Bella said, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "I know." Sniffling, she said, "Grandpa went down for a cup of coffee. I guess I should go get him."

She found him leaving the cafeteria, two cups in hand. He saw her, smiled wanly, said, "Figured you could use some hot chocolate," and handed her a cup.

"Mel says Doc Gable wants to talk to us. He's making rounds now," Bella told him. "So, we should probably get back up there."

Manfred nodded silently. As they stood waiting for the elevator, she looked at him. _God, he looks tired – and old,_ she thought. _He's aged a hundred years since June._

They took the elevator up without speaking. Doc Gable was coming out of Rose's room when the doors opened. He motioned them to the family waiting room down the hall.

"I think it's time to make service arrangements, if you haven't already," he said as gently as he could. "There's not anything else I can do for her except keep her as pain-free as possible until she passes." Tears in his eyes, he continued, "I have been racking my brain trying to think of something. But I'm out of ideas. The latest tests indicate the cancer has metastasized into her bones..." His voice broke.

"Doc Gable, you've been brilliant, and you've been there for us," Manfred replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But sometimes there just isn't anything else that can be done. You've done your best; it's just my angel's time to go." And he put an arm around the young doctor's shoulders.

They made their way back down the hall and went in to sit with Rose. Around sunrise on January second, she sighed deeply once, and was gone.

***

"Go back to school, honey," Manfred said, gazing out the living room window at a snowy January eleventh. "You already took off early when she got worse. If you don't start the spring semester, you could be dropped from the University. Not to mention your internship you were telling me about."

"Are you sure, Grandpa?" Bella asked again. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"I know, Bellissima, and I appreciate that," Manfred answered, sitting down next to her and taking her hand. "And, I know how hard this is, believe me. But your Granma would want us both to have a good cry and then get on with living."

"Well, we've been here before, and certainly done the first part of that," Bella said, laying her head on Manfred's shoulder.

"Yes, we have," Manfred said, hugging his granddaughter. "Now, once again, we have to move to the second part. I'm going back to teaching when my university reopens next week. You should go back to yours too."

***

The apartment seemed cavernous without Stacy's cheerful clutter spread everywhere. Bella shut the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. She walked into her room and put her suitcase down, then turned down the hall into the bathroom. She started the tub filling, then undressed and sank into the warm water, trying her best to let her mind go blank.

She had not realized until now how exhausting it had all been. She had traveled back and forth from Phoenix to Virginia a handful of times since that fateful call in June. Then in early December when Rose took a turn for the worst, she had powered through her finals early – thank God for understanding professors – and hopped a plane.

The last month had pretty much been a blur; every waking moment spent at the hospital, then the funeral service, and lastly the plane ride back to Phoenix.

She thought back to when she was eight. When her parents had died, it was sudden and a complete shock. And it completely sucked. This time, it was announced, so to speak. Instead of quick and unexpected, Granma's decline was slow and brutal to watch. And it completely sucked.

Even if someone had had the stupidity or nerve to ask which was easier to deal with, Bella wouldn't have been able to answer.

Her stomach growled to get her attention. Food. Now there was a thought. Bella realized she hadn't eaten all day. She pulled the plug on the tub and stepped out, reaching for a towel. Wrapping it around herself, she tucked the corner in at the top and turned to the mirror absentmindedly.

_Wow. I really do look different with this shorter hair,_ she thought to herself. _But I kinda like it. Easier to manage, anyway._

She put on her 'comfort clothes' – yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt -and went to the living room. Reaching for the phone, she dialed Ping's Palace and ordered her usual chicken fried rice with mushrooms and bean sprouts, and an extra eggroll. She fixed a cup of hot tea and settled in on the sofa to watch TV while she waited for dinner to arrive.

And it occurred to Bella – this was the getting on with living that she and Grandpa talked about. She was managing it. It might not be easy, but she was doing it.

***

Mikel came awake with a start. _Where am I?_ his mind raced. _I'm in my room, of course – Where the hell else would I be?_ But he knew why he was disoriented. The face he had been picturing in his dreams almost every night for six months was more vivid than usual. His angel.

Bella.

"I must see her again," he said aloud in the darkness. "I must make her mine."

He felt the familiar strain of penis against pajama bottom, and fought to clear his mind. He knew he could have anyone he wanted. There were several women right here in the complex he could bed if he wanted to.

But he didn't want them. He wanted Bella. Sighing, he rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes. There was only one other way he knew to soothe the heat that surged through him.

Striding out into the hall, he approached what looked to be a broom closet door. He opened it, placed his palm on the scanner, and was rewarded with a red elevator door opening. He punched in his keycode, then pressed the button for Sub-Level Three. Once the door opened at his destination, he repeated the security protocols and then a retinal scan to access the tunnel entrance.

Mikel traveled through to the decontamination chamber and suited up. He pressed the keypad at the far end, walked through the negatively pressured antechamber, and entered his workrooms.

Stopping at the first station, he picked up the clipboard and murmured, "Good evening." 
SECTION FOUR: Into the Black 

# CHAPTER TEN

Bella's smile grew as Tommy, an introverted eleven-year-old, recited the alphabet in near flawless French. By the time he reached the end, she was beaming.

"Excellent! You are doing brilliantly, Tommy," she said.

He blushed and said, "Thanks to you, Miss Bella."

She looked at her watch and said, "Oops. You have a history class to get to, I believe. And I have a major test this afternoon. See you after Thanksgiving?"

"Yes, ma'am." He gathered up his books and headed toward the door. He turned, his hand on the doorknob, and said carefully, "Je pense que vous êtes jolie, Mademoiselle Bella!" before scurrying out.

The sentiment made Bella misty. _Two months ago, he was so shy he would barely speak to me at all,_ she mused. _Now he tells me he thinks I'm pretty!_ For a kid with so many walls built up, it was a huge stride forward.

She placed her books and notepad in her backpack and slung it over one shoulder almost on autopilot, her mind already churning about the Economics test she would endure this afternoon. Bella walked out into the foyer toward the front entrance, and immediately had the sensation of being watched again. She glanced around but only saw a small group of students heading into the library. None of them were paying her any mind. _Weird,_ she thought to herself. _I swear to God it feels like someone's watching me._ Trying her best to quell the goosebumps on her arms, she continued out into the sunlight.

From his vantage point at the monitor, Mikel watched her go. _I have really missed you, angel,_ he thought to himself. His dreams of her had continued while he had been gone. Father had interrupted the vital progress in his workroom to send him back to Macapa to deal with some personnel issues that had come up at the mines. What was supposed to be a one-week trip had stretched on forever. Fortunately, he had been able to cover his tracks well. The labor foreman that had become such a pain in the ass would never be found – Mikel had made sure of that - and his disappearance quelled the uprising. Smoothly doctored maintenance records took care of the rest.

When he returned in February, he had been ecstatic to see that Bella had indeed started as the languages tutor. So without Father's knowledge he had expanded the security feed to send images to his workroom computer, then set up his terminal for auto-recording. He routinely waded through the security tapes to isolate video of her. Now he could watch his angel all he wanted, in real time or in playback, even when he had to work.

And he was spending more and more time in the workroom these days. The new test subjects he had been working with had developed serious complications; he would have to start completely over with new ones. The frustration at being set back was immeasurable. _Once I find the right mix, we can proceed, my love,_ he thought as he caressed the close-up still shot of Bella's face lovingly.

***

Adolf leaned back in his chair in quiet contemplation. He had spent this beautiful November afternoon reviewing student files and had found several promising candidates in this newest batch of kids. Each of them had perfect or near perfect grades in their studies; each of them was tall and blond; and each of them showed interesting scoring results on the psychological testing. Even the ones that stood out as major disciplinary problems would be manageable once Mikel perfected the serum.

He reached for his desk phone and punched in a four-digit number. He waited patiently until his protégé answered. "Mikel, what is the status?" he inquired smoothly.

"We're almost there," Mikel replied. "There's one small permutation left to overcome, but I've just about got it, Father. I want to try one last round of test subjects just to make sure."

"Of course, Mikel, whatever it takes," Adolf answered soothingly. "Just get it done."

Mikel pressed the disconnect button and leaned back, smiling wolfishly. He already had chosen the perfect candidate. But first he needed to tidy up his workroom.

***

"Oh Bel, you're gonna come, right?" Stacy pleaded over the phone. "I know it's short notice, but it would mean the world to us if you were here."

"Wouldn't miss it, Stacy," Bella answered. "As a matter of fact, I'm putting a bag together now. Where are you staying?"

"Planet Hollywood. We already booked you a room. Are you flying or driving?"

"I was thinking I'd drive it, but I found a deal on a round-trip. Southwest flight 627 landing there around nine. Pick me up at the airport?"

"You know it. See you in a while, Bel!"

Bella hung up the phone and smiled to herself as she threw a couple more things into her suitcase. Thanksgiving break as a bridesmaid in Vegas. Not quite what she had planned, but she was genuinely pleased for Stacy and Brad. And it sure beat hanging around the apartment alone. Grandpa had called a couple of weeks ago and sheepishly asked if she would be okay on her own for the holiday. Great Uncle Max had finally convinced Manfred to take a vacation; the two widowers were on a single seniors' cruise in the Bahamas.

She quickly reviewed the contents of her suitcase then added her hairbrush and other toiletries in to the mix. Snapping her suitcase shut, Bella moved it into the living room by the front door. She made sure her answering machine was turned on, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed out her door. Locking it securely behind her, she made her way to the elevator, then down to the truck.

Traffic and the trip through security were both lighter than she expected. She made it to her gate with twenty minutes to kill. Bella plugged her earbuds into her iPod and opened the paperback she had brought.

***

Mikel needed a break. The coolness of a desert night was providing little comfort for his aching muscles. He was disposing of his test subjects.

The serum was a complex mix and was designed to insert itself into the subject's brain tissue and nerve fibers and remain dormant until activated. He had tried several delivery methods but found two that worked the best – injection as a direct approach, and suspended in liquid as a subtle one. Activating the serum was childishly simple – a press of a button. Once activated, the serum would essentially function as a mind control agent that could be operated via electronic signal. Nanotechnology was a wonderful thing.

And it had worked like it was supposed to, in the rats and the monkeys he had begun the trials with.

In late September he had decided to make the move to human subjects. He had taken the first of four trips across the border into Nevada. Each time he found, befriended, drugged and brought back a transient no one would miss. Three men, ranging in age from forty-five to seventy, and one old prostitute in her mid-fifties.

But this first batch of human specimens had been a complete disaster. Instead of allowing for remote control of the individual's brain activity, the serum had attacked the host when activated, causing seizures, psychotic rages, and massive aneurysms.

He had buried three of them already and was digging the hole for the fourth. _Should've started with the big one first,_ he grumbled to himself. _That one will take twice as big a hole to cover him properly_.

Finally, the hole was finished. He grabbed the last body by the legs and strained to pull the man out of the bed of the truck. _You'd think a homeless degenerate would be skinnier,_ he thought disgustedly. Dragging the stocky man by the feet like a sack of garbage, he stepped around the edge of the hole. Gravity assisted him in placing the body.

He rested for a moment, then picked up the shovel and filled in the last hole. Grabbing the small leafy branch he had pruned from a tree at the Institute, he swept it back and forth over the graves to minimize obvious signs of digging. Then he carefully walked backward toward his truck, erasing his tracks as he went. He drove slowly back to the main road, then turned right for the twenty-mile drive back to Phoenix.

Mikel had taken great care to strip his subjects of any personal possessions. These items had been locked in the workroom safe. Now he might have to burn them. He saw no reason why the bodies would ever be discovered, and even if they were, no one would be able to link them to him. Still, it might be better to get rid of it all.

***

Bella stood on her balcony, watching the lights twinkle up and down the Strip. The wedding had quite frankly been classier than she thought. For some reason, she had envisioned Brad and Stacy exchanging vows in front of an Elvis impersonator and surrounded by the musical cacophony of slot machines.

She sighed and went back into her room to remove the sky-blue floor-length dress Stacy had rented for her. Hanging it up carefully, she made her way into the bathroom and turned the water on for a nice hot shower. Attending a wedding in Vegas just made her realize how alone she felt.

_Well, maybe I can cheer myself up in the casino later_ , she thought wryly as she washed her hair. _Maybe I will meet a tall, dark stranger who happens to love literature and languages as much as I do._

__ "Yeah right," Bella said aloud. "With my luck he'd either be married, gay or a criminal."

Laughing to herself, she stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Seriously – Who was she fooling? She had only had one serious relationship in her whole life. Bella and Anthony had dated through high school, at least until the senior prom when she caught him making out with the homecoming queen. He had had the nerve to blame it all on Bella because she wouldn't, as he put it, 'prove her love for him.' _Jackass_. After that she had written off boys for the foreseeable future.

But seeing Stacy and Brad beaming with happiness as they exchanged vows and rings had awakened a longing in her, a desire to not be isolated anymore.

She sighed again, pulling on jeans, a sweater, and tennis shoes. "What the hell," she said aloud to no one. "Let's hit the slots and see what happens!" She tucked her money and her room key into her pocket, hooked her cell phone to her belt, and set off. She stopped in the gift shop and bought a pack of smokes and a lighter before making her way to a bank of penny slots. It was a bad habit she had picked up and she really needed to quit, but she was in no mood for self-recrimination or analysis.

Putting a twenty into the machine at the end of the row, she lit a cigarette, selected her bet amount, and pressed 'spin' half-heartedly. Bella looked around the casino and people watched a bit, only barely paying attention to her machine. It seemed that everywhere she looked she saw nothing but happy couples. _God, this would be so much more fun if I had someone to talk to,_ she thought wistfully.

Her machine beeping and blinking caught her full attention. A fifty dollar win on a fifty-cent bet. _Not bad_! She smiled to herself as the credits added to her total.

"Nice spin!" came a voice from her right.

She turned and looked into the most amazing hazel eyes. Her field of vision widened to take in a chiseled face, attached to a muscular body. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen, ever. She felt herself smiling back at him.

"Um, thanks," she said, slightly flustered. "It's the luck of the draw, I guess."

"Pretty darn good luck, I'd say," the vision before her responded. He held out a hand.

"My name's Nathan Thomas."

She hesitated, then shrugged her shoulders and shook his hand. "Bella Amsel."

"What brings you to Vegas, Bella?" Nathan asked. "Besides good luck on the machine?"

"Marriage," she replied as she pressed the spin button again. "My best friend got married today."

"Oh, good. At first, I thought you meant you," Nathan replied. "That would have been awkward."

They both laughed.

"What about you? What brings you here?" Bella asked him.

"Fun," he said. "I start my new job next week, so I thought I would blow off some steam before I hit the ground running."

"What type of job?" she asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Law enforcement," Nathan replied. "I got a Bachelor's in Criminal Justice and spent two years with the Virginia State Troopers. But," he continued, leaning a little closer to her and dropping his voice, "I recently graduated from the FBI academy, and I go into the field next week. So, I am taking a little vacation first; sort of a 'happy graduation to me'."

"Congratulations," Bella said sincerely. "Quantico is beautiful."

"You've been there?"

"Virginia's my home state. I grew up in Manassas," Bella explained. "And my grandfather teaches languages and literature at the University of Virginia. But he's done some guest lecturing at Quantico, and I got to go with him once when I was about twelve."

"And," she continued, leaning closer to him and looking him straight in the eyes, "I was taught to not talk to strangers, and to always ask policemen for ID."

Laughing, Nathan drew out his wallet and showed her both his identification and his badge. "Satisfied?"

"Very, thank you," Bella said. "Now I can keep talking to you."

"That's wonderful," Nathan said. "But only if you let me buy you dinner."

"That would be nice," Bella said, trying to be nonchalant as she scouted for a wedding ring. He caught her surreptitious gaze, and said solemnly, "I'm not married, Bella. Not even dating anyone, not for a long time."

She flushed crimson, and managed, "It never hurts to check."

Nathan stood.

"Come on," he said, extending his hand. "Grab your bounty of winnings and tell me about yourself over some nice Italian food."

"Sixty-five dollars isn't exactly a bounty. And Italian food happens to be my favorite," Bella said with a smile. "So now I couldn't tell you no even if I wanted to." And she took his hand.

Bella cashed in her ticket and they strolled leisurely down the Strip to the MGM. "The place is called Fiamma, and it's excellent," Nathan told her. "I tried it about a year ago when I was here for _my_ best friend's wedding."

They were graciously ushered to a cozy table in the corner. For the next three hours, they ate and talked and laughed. Nathan talked about his family and upbringing; he was the youngest of four and the only boy. Then he listened as she shared her journey with him, held her hand when she talked about her parents' and her grandmother's deaths.

Over tiramisu he asked her, "So, a degree in literature to go with all those languages. What are your plans?"

"Well," she said, "I've had an opportunity to work with troubled kids as a languages tutor for the last several months. And I've found I truly enjoy it. I definitely foresee working with children in some form. I'm not sure yet what age bracket, though." She took a sip of her hot tea.

"And what about you? What led you to law enforcement?"

"Two generations of my family were D.C. cops," he said. "I guess it's in my blood. And working as a trooper got me some valuable experience on the ground. But I decided I wanted to be a criminal profiler. I want to be more proactive in identifying and catching the bad guys _before_ they can do damage, rather than just chase them once they do. So, I applied to the FBI."

Dessert was cleared and beverages refilled. Then Nathan took her hand again, and asked, "So, when do you leave for Arizona?'

"My flight is at four tomorrow," she replied softly, savoring the touch of his hand on hers.

"What about you?"

"Mine leaves at six," he said. They were both quiet for a long moment.

"Bella," he said gently, reaching over to touch her cheek, "I know we just met, and forgive me if this sounds stupid, but... oh hell," he muttered. "Never mind."

"What?" she asked, a little breathless.

"May I kiss you?"

She flushed again, but her eyes did not leave his as she whispered, "Yes." 

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

He smiled, leaned in, and gently traced her lips with his. And a thunderbolt shot through her, all the way down to her toes. She shuddered involuntarily from the sudden heat that burned in her.

"Are you all right? Did I upset you?" Nathan asked, those amazing eyes filled with longing and concern.

"No," she said. "I just haven't been kissed in a really, really long time."

"That surprises me, quite frankly," Nathan replied. "You're stunning, and you're one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. I'm amazed you're even single."

"Well, I don't know about the rest of that, but I'm most definitely single," Bella said. "In fact, this is the first date I've been on since high school."

The waiter appeared with the bill. "Let me settle this, and then let's get out of here," Nathan said quietly.

She nodded silently. In her head she was thinking all sorts of things, none of which were proper, especially with someone she had just met. But the images in her brain refused to go away. She wanted to spend the night with this man. She wanted to feel his mouth, his skin, his body on hers. _Isabella Rose, get hold of yourself,_ her inner matron intoned. _What the hell are you doing? You've only known this guy for about three hours._

But she realized she really didn't care. She wanted to be with him tonight and the future could be sorted out later.

"Bella?"

She pulled out of her inner conflict and smiled at him. "Are you ready to go?'

"Yes," he said, returning the smile.

They left the restaurant and arm in arm headed back toward Planet Hollywood.

"Nathan?"

"Yes?"

"It's my turn to ask something awkward."

He laughed. "Okay, shoot."

She stopped and turned to face him. Taking hold of both his hands, she took a deep breath, and said, "Like you said, we just met. But it feels like we've known each other for a long time." She blushed a deep, deep red and took the plunge. "I cannot believe I am about to say this to you, but...what I mean is, this is not like me, but....... _dammit_.......I want to know if you want to....um...come to my room with me," she finished in a whisper and looking at the ground.

She felt him let go of her hands and closed her eyes and cursed inwardly. _Christ, I finally meet a great man and I scared him off,_ she thought to herself. _I am such an idiot._

Then she felt two strong arms wrap protectively around her and his breath on her hair. He was shaking, she could feel it. "Bella," he murmured throatily. "I know how you feel; I know where you're coming from." He tipped her chin upward until she opened her eyes and looked at him. "I will come with you, to talk. Nothing else will happen unless and until you are absolutely ready for it to. Okay?"

"Okay", she said simply. They reluctantly broke the embrace and continued their walk back to the hotel.

They rode the elevator hand in hand and in silence. Her heart was racing so hard she had trouble swiping the key card to her room. "Here, let me," Nathan said gently. He opened the door and held it for her. She made her way past him over to the little fridge and pulled out two sodas to occupy her shaking hands.

Suddenly her words came out in a tumble. "I'm so sorry. You must think I'm a slut or something. I swear to God that this is not normal behavior for me, at all, ever. I've never even..." Bella's voice trailed off in complete embarrassment.

"Why would I think that?" Nathan prodded as he filled two glasses with ice. "And what makes you think I've ever done it, either?"

Bella was flabbergasted. "Seriously?"

"Completely," he admitted as he opened the sodas and poured. "I know it's not hip or cool or the norm, but yes, I am a twenty-six-year-old virgin. I had opportunities to change that, of course, but I wanted to wait for the right woman, someone special."

"I know what you mean," Bella said. "After Anthony cheated on me because I wouldn't put out, I decided not to bother with dating anymore. I figured that if a boy I had known for years could turn out to be that shallow, that all the rest must be too."

He walked over to her and handed her a glass. "We're not all like that, Bella, not by a long shot," he said. "And I'm sorry you had to go through that." He took her hand and led her out onto the balcony.

"You know, this is so ironic," Bella said almost in disbelief. "About five hours ago, I was standing in this very spot, feeling very isolated and sad because I realized I'm tired of being alone. I even daydreamed about meeting some tall dark stranger," she added, poking his side as she noticed Nathan grinning at this bit of news. "And wonder of wonders, here you are. So, where do we go from here?" she asked as they looked at the traffic and lights up and down the Strip.

"Well, I definitely want to see you again, as much as possible, regardless of where tonight leads," Nathan said. "We met for a reason, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let distance or anything else get in the way of getting to know you."

Setting his glass down, he turned and wrapped his arms around her. "I want to spend the night with you, Bella, even if we just talk all night. There will be plenty of time to move things forward if we choose," he finished as he lowered his mouth to hers.

She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. "Nathan?" she said in a small voice.

"Yes, Bella?"

"I'm so glad I met you."

They went back inside and talked until somewhere around three a.m. before drifting off in each other's arms. Just before nine a.m. Bella stirred. Slowly she became aware of Nathan's arm draped protectively over her and his deep and even breathing lightly fanning on the side of her neck. She slowly turned her head and gazed in wonder at this gorgeous man snuggled beside her.

_Wow_ was all she could think. _So, this is what "we" feels like._

__ It was the most comfortable feeling in the world to see him beside her. She studied his face, so peaceful in sleep. Long dark lashes, high cheekbones, chocolate brown hair, just a hint of a cleft in his chin and a touch of five o'clock shadow. And now those amazing hazel eyes were open and looking back at her.

"Morning," he murmured, tightening his arm around her waist. "Sleep well?"

"Very well," she replied. "I've never woken up with anybody before."

"Me either. But I like it. I like it a lot," he said sleepily, softly stroking her cheek.

At some point during the night he had removed his shoes and shirt. Before she could stop herself, she ran the palm of her hand across the muscular landscape of his bare chest, and watched his eyes awaken and take on a sparkle. _Christ, he's built,_ she thought. Lost in the feel of him, her hand began to slide downward toward the six pack of his abdomen. The sparkle became a fire of longing in his eyes.

Nathan put his hand over hers and he said, "Bella? You might want to be careful, darling. I've got willpower, but I'm not invincible."

Bella leaned forward and kissed him, long and hard. Against his mouth she whispered, "I'm ready, if you are."

He moved his head back slightly so he could see her eyes. "Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"I am more sure about this, about you, than I have been about anything, ever," she stated. "I want to be with you. Make love with me, Nathan."

Now it was Nathan's turn to blush.

"Bella," he said gently, softly. "You have no idea how tempting you are. But I don't have any..." he faltered a bit, then continued, "I don't have any protection with me. Are you on the pill?"

She smiled, a little frustrated. "No. And you're right, we shouldn't do this without being prepared." Bella sighed. "I know it's the right choice, but I sure don't have to like it."

At this, he bellowed with laughter and hugged her tightly. "I know," Nathan said. "But if we're willing to wait until we _are_ prepared, I have a feeling it will be spectacular." Kissing her gently, he continued, "Let me buy you breakfast at least. And I want to make plans to see you when you're home for Christmas."

They were interrupted by Stacy calling to arrange to meet for brunch at eleven. Bella hung up, turned to Nathan, and said, "Do you mind running the gauntlet? I want you to meet Stacy and Brad. They're the whole reason I'm even in Vegas."

"I would love to," Nathan answered. "Tell you what. I'm going back to my room to get cleaned up. I'd stay here and do it but seeing you in any state of undress at all would completely wreck what little self-control I have right now. I'll be back in half an hour."

She smiled at him. "Did I mention I'm glad I met you, Nathan?"

"You did," he said. "And I feel the same way. See you in a bit."

She kissed him again at the door and watched him all the way to the elevator. Then Bella closed her door and couldn't stop herself from doing a little dance across the room. _He is so amazing,_ she thought, unable to stop smiling as she headed for a shower.

Two floors up, Nathan also couldn't shake the stupid grin as he shaved. _She is so beautiful_ , he mused as he relived their meeting. Waking up with her had been phenomenal, and just felt so right, like they had always been together. He had never really believed in love at first sight until yesterday. He dressed, packed up his things, and headed out to the elevator to return to Bella. As the doors closed, he was pleasantly surprised to hear himself say aloud, "I'm gonna marry that girl."

***

They checked out of their rooms, left their bags with the concierge, and headed to the restaurant.

"Bel!" Stacy squealed as they approached.

"Good morning, you old married people you," Bella said, giving her best friend a hug and Brad a peck on the cheek.

"Who's your friend, Bel?" Stacy asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Stacy, Brad, I'd like you to meet Nathan," Bella answered. "We met last night at the slots." She could tell Stacy was brimming with questions, but to Stacy's credit she reined herself in and said sincerely, "It's a pleasure to meet you Nathan."

Small talk was made and the meal ordered. Then Stacy excused herself to the ladies' room. The look she shot Bella meant it needed to be a group trip. The bathroom door had barely closed before Stacy started in.

"Bel, he's gorgeous! And obviously quite taken with you, I might add," she said. "Tell me all about it."

Bella recounted the whole story.

"So, you guys spent all night together, and you didn't have sex?" Stacy asked.

"No, we didn't," Bella answered. "Not that the chemistry's not there, because oh my God I want that man. But," she continued, "we decided to wait a while."

She looked over to see Stacy teary eyed and smiling. "Bel, that is so beautiful!" Stacy said, sniffling a little. "So romantic. Old-fashioned but so sweet."

Bella sighed contentedly, and said, "It is, isn't it? I never thought I'd find someone with the same values as me, but here he is."

"He's easy on the eyes, too," Stacy chimed, poking Bella in the ribs. "Now, let me fix my makeup right quick and we'll get back to our Prince Charmings. And," she added, glancing at Bella in the mirror, "when the time comes, I already know the perfect bridesmaid dress to wear at your wedding."

At the table, meanwhile, Brad had been peppering Nathan with questions. "I'm sorry if I seem a little pushy. It's just Bel's like family, that's all. Just watching out for her," Brad said.

"I would expect nothing less from her friends," Nathan replied. "I get where you're coming from. She's special, one of a kind. That's why how fast or slow this goes is up to her. I just want to be around her."

_Wow,_ Brad thought as he listened to Nathan speaking. _He really means it._

Brad looked at Nathan and quietly said, "You're all right in my book, man."

"Thanks, Brad," Nathan answered. "It may be old-fashioned, but it matters to me what the people closest to her think, too. Speaking of which," he added, "maybe you and Stacy could get me in contact with her grandfather. I'd like to meet with him when I get back to Virginia."

"Be glad to," Brad said.

The conversation returned to general topics when they saw the ladies returning. An hour later, they were saying their goodbyes. Brad extended his hand to Nathan, and said, "It was great meeting you. We'll see you again?"

To which Bella replied, "Most definitely." Nathan smiled at her.

"Your friends are amazing," he told her as they made their way to the casino floor to kill time before the trip to the airport. "And protective."

Bella laughed. "Sorry if Brad was a little, well, pushy."

"Funny, that's exactly the word he used," Nathan replied. "But it doesn't bother me. In fact, I appreciate how loyal your friends are. It just reinforces my opinion that you are very special." And he lightly touched his lips to hers as she blushed and smiled.

She wrapped her arm around his waist and said, "And so are you. Now- let's see if my machine is lucky again today, shall we?"

***

Mikel sat in his car, surveying the street. Although he had one test subject already in his workroom, he had decided to bring one more and had made the drive yet again to Vegas. Now he was parked just down from Planet Hollywood, scouting for a good candidate.

Ah, yes, over there. A woman, maybe thirty at the most, obviously a prostitute, with long brown hair and curves. She would do nicely.

He started to get out of his car and froze in complete shock. Bella. His angel was coming out of the hotel! He blinked rapidly to make sure his eyes were actually seeing her.

Then the shock turned to mind-numbing rage as he noticed the man with her. They were obviously acquainted; Bella had one arm laced through his. He watched in disbelief as they placed bags in the open trunk and then got into the cab together. When the cab pulled away from the curb, it took with it his intention to secure another test subject. He immediately swung out and began to follow Bella's cab.

_Who is that bastard!? Bella is MINE!_ his mind screamed.

Bella and Nathan sat snuggled in the cab, talking and laughing, lost in their little world.

Mikel could see how close their silhouettes were and it turned his stomach. When the cab reached the airport, Nathan helped her out of the car and grabbed both their bags from the trunk while she paid the driver. Neither of them noticed the man with white-blond hair four cars back.

As he watched them go into the terminal, Mikel flung his car into park with a curse, got out and slammed the door. He had taken three steps toward the entrance when he was stopped by a security officer.

"You can't park there, it's for taxis and hotel shuttles only," the officer announced sternly, pointing at the posted signs. Mikel glowered silently at the man and sulkily returned to his vehicle. Cursing again in frustration, he jerked the transmission into drive and pulled out from the curb without looking, narrowly avoiding a passing minivan.

That cheating bitch, she'll pay for this, he seethed. He turned sharply and headed back to the Strip.

***

Cindy had been, well, bored. Clients had been few today. So it was a pleasant surprise when the handsome, muscular blond approached her. _I hope he's hung like a bull to match the rest of that body_ she had thought wickedly. _Might as well have some pleasure with business._ A bit of suggestive talk back and forth, and now she was sitting in the front passenger seat, popping her gum and making small talk as he drove.

"Hey," she said. "We're heading out of town?"

"Yes," he replied, staring straight ahead. "My place is just outside the city limits. You'll like it; it's beautiful."

"Cool, baby," she said, and gave her attention to the passenger side window. She people watched until there were no more in view. As he turned off onto a side road, she finally decided to ask more questions about where they were going. Turning to speak to him, Cindy was met by a fist to her mouth, followed by a rag of chloroform. 

# CHAPTER TWELVE

"Coming."

Bella opened her door to face two dozen long-stemmed red roses in a huge vase. She signed for them, took them, and thanked the deliveryman before shutting and locking the door. She made her way to the kitchen on autopilot, her nose stuffed down close to the bouquet. Bella set them on the counter and sighed with pleasure as she read the card.

"I miss you already Bella.

_– Nathan._ _"_

Her head had been filled with thoughts of him since they parted ways yesterday afternoon at the airport. She obviously was on his mind too.

***

A groan as she came back to consciousness.

"Please." Her tongue hurt from where she had bitten it.

No response. She tried again.

"Please don't hurt me anymore. I'll do whatever you want," Cindy managed through bruised lips and broken teeth. She knew he was there – she could hear him breathing but she could not see him. She was blindfolded. Not that it mattered. Both eyes were swollen shut anyway from his repeated blows to her face, her dark brown hair matted with sweat, tears, and blood.

Her body tensed and she began to panic as she heard him coming closer. She struggled to no avail; he had adjusted her position and now had her lying face down, hands bound over her head and her legs strapped down spread-eagle, with a pillow under her pelvis.

It was forty hours in and counting, and the room reeked of sex and terror. What had started out as another test subject had quickly become something else. He had noticed when he chloroformed her that her eyes were the same color as Bella's. As a matter of fact, she resembled his angel quite a bit. His obsession took over. Mikel had thoroughly used Cindy, repeatedly, painfully. The act itself to him was not fascinating in the least. What was fascinating, though, was that at the point of climax he always saw his angel's face, called his angel's name. Whether this tramp noticed or not he neither knew nor cared. These visions of Bella were overpowering and addictive.

Now he edged closer, wanting another fix, becoming more aroused as Cindy continued to beg. "Oh, I know you will - because you don't have any choice. You can scream if you want to, you know," he finally answered. "Knock yourself out. This place is soundproofed."

***

"Mr. Amsel," Nathan said, striding into Manfred's office at the University. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Well, I admit my curiosity's up about you, ever since Stacy and Brad called to tell me about Bella's new man," Manfred responded with a grin. "Have a seat."

Manfred already knew quite a bit about Nathan, having done a full background check in addition to asking around about him at Quantico. But he chose to remain silent for a bit and see firsthand what this young man was made of.

Accepting the chair offered to him, Nathan leaned forward and said, "Mr. Amsel, I'll get right to the point. I met Bella last week in Vegas, and I am completely captivated with her. I am here to ask your permission to date her, sir." Noticing Manfred's raised eyebrows, he added, "I have very strong feelings for her, more than any woman I have ever met. And I know it's the 21st century and she and I are both adults. But I just didn't feel right about not asking you first."

"Well, son, Bella's got to make her own choices. She's certainly old enough, and modern enough," Manfred replied. "The fact that you've come to me and introduced yourself and asked my opinion means a great deal to me personally. That was the standard back in my day. It speaks volumes for you and the way you were raised that you keep that tradition."

"So," Manfred continued, "my answer to you is yes, if Bella chooses to see you, that's fine with me." He leaned back and favored Nathan with a smile. "Now that's out of the way, tell me more about yourself."

***

"Hello?"

"Bella. It's Nathan."

_God, he sounds sexy on the phone._ She pulled it together and said, "Nathan, the roses you sent are absolutely gorgeous. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like them. Listen, I'm flying out to Flagstaff on business tonight. If you're available, I can drive from there to Phoenix on Friday afternoon when I'm done. I'd like to see you."

"I would really like that, Nathan." Bella beamed as she twisted the phone cord around her finger.

"Great! It's a date." He knew she could probably hear his grin over the phone. "I'll call you when I leave Flagstaff?"

"Sounds good. I can't wait to see you."

"Me either. See you Friday, Bella."

"Bye."

And neither of them knew it, but they both did the same silly little happy dance when they got off the phone.

***

"Mr. Wallace? Do you have a moment?" Bella asked after knocking on the doorjamb.

"Certainly, Bella. Come right in. How was your Thanksgiving?" the headmaster asked as he motioned her to a chair.

"It was really nice," she answered. "Sir, I know you're busy, but I need to know if you've seen Tommy lately?"

"Not that I recall, not in the last couple of days anyway," Wallace responded, frowning. "But then again, we have over 400 kids here right now."

"Well, he missed our tutorial session yesterday and again today," she explained. "He's been doing so well, and he's been so excited about them, that it surprises me that he's missed them."

The headmaster got up and moved over to a filing cabinet. "Tommy Bennett, right?"

"Yes."

He thumbed through, then extracted the boy's file. Returning to the desk, he murmured, "Ah, here we are. It seems he was signed out of school the day before Thanksgiving by his uncle. I wasn't in that day, but the paperwork's in order and Shelly filed it for me."

"Wow," Bella said. "I'm a little surprised he didn't tell me he was going home for the holiday."

"He may not have known," Wallace said gently. "Many of these troubled kids are troubled because their families are, well, loony. It may have been a last-minute thing. Still," he continued, frowning, "he should have been brought back already, unless they signed him out permanently." He flipped through the documents again. "Yes, see, right here," he said, showing the pages to Bella. "For whatever reason, his family has opted to completely withdraw him from the Metzger Institute."

"I hope he's all right. He's such a sweet kid, and he has such promise," Bella said woefully.

Wallace patted her shoulder awkwardly. "There, there, my dear," he said. "All we can do is hope for the best."

"I appreciate your time, Mr. Wallace," she said, rising to shake his hand. "I'll let you get back to your work."

"Anytime, dear." And he replaced the file in the drawer and returned to his desk as she left his office.

Mikel's ears perked up when he heard her voice. The bug he had installed in the headmaster's office was of the finest quality; he heard their entire conversation as clearly as if he had been physically in the room. Mikel watched the monitor as Bella made her way out the front door. Then he walked softly down the hall to check on workroom two, where the subject of their conversation remained in a drug-induced sleep, before moving to workroom three to pay Cindy another visit. Hearing his angel's voice had reignited his need for a fix.

***

"Bella? Nathan. I'm headed to Phoenix."

"Wonderful. Do you want to have dinner here, or go out?"

"How about there. Order in, or cook?"

She laughed. "I'm equally good with either. I'm more interested in getting to spend time with you. Food's a bonus."

"Hmm," he said. "Chinese?"

"I know a great place, and they're really quick too. How do you feel about mushrooms and bean sprouts?"

"I like them both."

"Good, then I will order my usual and we can share; their portion sizes are huge."

"Sounds good to me, just, get a couple of extra egg rolls?"

"Of course."

"I should be there in about two and a half hours, give or take," he said, glancing at the clock in the rental car and resisting the urge to floor it.

"And I will have food ready when you arrive," she responded.

She hung up reluctantly and busied herself with tidying up the apartment a bit. Then she brewed some iced tea, grabbed a shower, and ordered the food from Ping's. Her timing was perfect; he arrived just after the food did. She was setting plates when the intercom buzzer rang again, and she pressed the buzzer to let Nathan up.

She walked over to the door with a fork in each hand, looked out the peephole, grinned, and opened the door.

"Well, hello," was all she got out before he swept her up in a kiss. They moved backward into the apartment as one, Nathan pausing long enough to close the door with his foot while Bella took one arm from around him long enough to throw the deadbolt and drop the forks to the floor. Their pulses raced in time as their mouths and tongues intertwined.

With an effort, he lifted his mouth from hers, and his voice was hoarse with desire as he murmured, "God I missed you. In case you didn't notice."

She snuggled her face into his neck and breathed in his scent. "I missed you too. In case you didn't notice."

They stayed there for a time, arms around each other, reveling in the moment. Then she lifted her head and said teasingly, "You know I love this, but fried rice is better hot."

"No argument here. I'm starving," he answered as he watched her retrieve the hastily discarded silverware from the floor. Following her to the table, he began scooping rice and placing egg rolls onto the plates while she got out more forks.

As they ate, Nathan said casually, "How's your week been?"

"Not too bad," she said. "One of my favorites at the school got withdrawn by his family over the break, though. Good kid, really bright. I just wish I had had a chance to say goodbye." She shrugged her shoulders. "It is what it is, I guess. Maybe they'll realize how happy Tommy was at school and let him return at some point."

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said. "But I'm sure he's fine." He took another bite of fried rice and tried to sound nonchalant as he said, "Oh, by the way, I met your grandfather the other day."

"Really?" Bella asked. "Cool. Was he lecturing at Quantico, or something?"

"Nope," Nathan replied. "To be honest, I went to see him at the University."

Bella put her fork down and rested her chin on her hand, intrigued. "Why?"

"Honestly?"

"Of course."

"Well," Nathan said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, "I'm a little old fashioned. I met you, I've fallen for you, so I went to ask your father, or in this case your grandfather, for permission to date you."

She smiled. "And what did he say?"

"He said Bella's old enough and modern enough to make her own choices. He also said it impressed him that I would – how did he put it- 'keep the tradition' and ask."

"And then," he continued, gesturing with his fork, "he said if you chose to see me, that would be fine by him."

"Nathan Thomas," she responded, "I absolutely choose to see you. And I think it's sweet you kept the tradition."

Later, as they stood in the kitchen rinsing plates, she asked, "So when do you have to be back in Virginia?"

"Not until Monday," he said, putting the leftovers away. "I built in some time to spend with you."

"In that case, let me show you something." She took his hand and led him down the hall.

His breath caught as she opened her bedroom door. Lit candles and rose petals graced the room. He turned to her and said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said, looking into his eyes. "And this time, we're prepared."

He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.
SECTION FIVE: Perilous Waters

#  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Have you lost your fucking MIND?" Adolf screamed as he smashed his glass against the wall.

Mikel remained silent. He had never seen his father like this before. Beet red face, cords standing out on his neck, a vein pulsing ominously at the left temple. "Your fucking side project could ruin us, you ungrateful bastard!"

"Dad, I'll take care of it."

"Goddamn right you will. Tonight, Mikel. And if you ever pull another stunt like this again, so help me God I will take you out myself. Are we clear?"

"Clear, Dad."

Adolf stormed out of the room.

_I deserved that,_ Mikel said to himself. He knew it. He had become so addicted to seeing the Bella visions that he had been neglecting everything else. Adolf couldn't reach him by intercom, so his father had come down to check progress on the serum and found him with Cindy.

_Well, what was left of Cindy_ , Mikel thought to himself with a sadistic smile. The spark that had defined Cindy had short-circuited after almost one hundred hours of misuse. Now she was just - there. He was impressed that she had remained connected as long as she did.

He had hoped to be able to assuage his father's rage by using her as a demonstration of all his research and testing. Unfortunately, her broken mind rendered her completely unresponsive to the serum. He had tried several times to activate it; the only measurable responses were slight convulsions before the brain waves returned to minimalistic readings.

Now she had to go. She wasn't even able to help him see the visions anymore. Without her cries, her screaming, her begging, the level of arousal needed just wouldn't come. He had tried.

Sighing, he filled the syringe and injected her at the base of the skull. He had found that for lethal doses, this tended to be a place often overlooked during a routine autopsy; good old Mr. Jones had been dispatched the same way, and that case was cold.

Where to put her? He thought for a moment. The place outside Phoenix where he had buried the others was the perfect spot for this sort of thing. Would it be pushing his luck to take her there too? Mikel mulled it over as he watched the brain waves go flat. He checked for a pulse in her carotid and found none. Satisfied, he detached the monitoring wires, removed the rings and earrings she wore, and hummed as he wrapped the body in plastic bags for transport.

_Tommy, my boy, it's all you I guess_ , Mikel reflected as he rechecked Cindy's room one more time to ensure no trace of her remained. _You get to be the star of the show after all._ And the show would start as soon as he got back from the desert.

***

Adolf stood at his office window and watched Mikel's truck pull out of the main gate. He took another sip of his favorite brandy and again willed himself to calm down.

Reckless. Unfocused. _Damn that kid_.

Hopefully he had gotten Mikel's attention. Adolf had been very careful over the years to rein his temper in. The last time it got the better of him he was almost caught with the manifesto and a sworn enemy went unpunished. That was a lifetime ago. Since then he had prided himself on remaining cool and calm despite the circumstances. Until tonight he had kept the beast under control rather well.

But seeing Mikel with that woman had set him off. There was no time, no room, for anything other than complete loyalty and dedication to the Reich and its resurrection. Animalistic urges had no place whatsoever at this table.

Adolf turned and went to sit in his armchair. He swirled his brandy and contemplated the fire; it relaxed him and helped him think. He would have to be more vigilant about his son, make sure Mikel stayed focused. That much was certain.

Of course, he did not know about Mikel's obsession and the increasing power it had over him. He did not know that because of it, Mikel's loyalty to him might well be tested in the future.

If he had, he would have been much more worried than angry.

***

Bella stretched luxuriously and turned her head. She shifted to her side and draped an arm and a leg over Nathan. "Hi," she said.

"Hi yourself," came the smoky reply.

"So, is it just me, or was that fabulous?"

"Absolutely," he answered with a satisfied grin. "And definitely worth waiting for you for." His face became serious, and he cupped her chin and said solemnly, "You are the most incredible woman I've ever met, ever." She blushed with pleasure.

He kissed her gently and continued, "And I hope this doesn't scare you off but I have to say this. I love you Bella. I fell in love with you the moment you turned your head and spoke to me at the slot machines. Being with you feels as natural as breathing. I don't want it to stop."

She kissed him back, then sighed with contentment and rested her head on his chest. "I love you too. And I know what you mean," she said. "It's crazy. We met a little over a week ago. But it feels like we've known each other forever. We're supposed to be here. It's just meant to be."

"So, would I be completely out of line if I asked you to marry me?"

She sat up. "Seriously?"

"I don't have a ring to give you right now, but that can be fixed pretty quickly. Marry me, Bella."

"You're serious."

"Completely."

She looked at him, tears brimming.

"Then my answer is yes. Seriously. Completely."

Nathan whooped with joy and pulled her back into his arms.

***

"You've got to be kidding me," Mikel muttered, looking through his night vision binoculars.

He was lying on his stomach on a rise overlooking the burial site.

As he approached, he had noticed lights up ahead where there should be darkness. He had pulled over, turned off his truck, and walked the remaining quarter-mile to scope it out. What he saw had him on edge.

A party? Here? With all the open spaces around, these fucking teenagers had to pick the one spot he needed to get to?

Above the rock music, someone screamed.

He followed the noise and trained his focus over to the right. And saw a rather drunk and extremely frightened girl pointing at something foreign poking up from the earth. One of the boys in the group walked over and bent down, making sweeping motions with his hands. Suddenly he stood up and backed away quickly, gagging, reaching for his cell phone.

It was a shoe, with the owner's foot still inside.

Mikel put the binoculars down and dropped his head to the ground in disgust. __

Fuck.

Trying to be as silent as possible, he maneuvered back down the slope and hustled back to his truck. He started it, turned around, and drove several hundred yards by moonlight before he dared to turn on the headlights. He got back to the main road and had been on it just long enough for the dust he had kicked up to settle again when he saw the two police vehicles hauling ass toward him. He slowed and pulled to the shoulder, then watched his rearview to confirm that they were heading toward the underage drinking party.

_Dammit. Think, Mikel, think. Are you sure you didn't miss something?_ he asked himself.

Yes, he was. He specifically recalled gathering up any jewelry they had had or any wallets. He had specifically chosen the ones he did because they were anonymous and disposable. No one would miss them. No one would care. Even if they could be identified, there was absolutely nothing tying them to him. He had even taken care to wipe his footprints that night.

He exhaled slowly, and pulled back out onto the road. Stashing what used to be Cindy would have to wait until he could find another place.

On the outskirts of town, it came to him. Smiling wolfishly, he veered left and headed for the construction site he knew to be nearby. A new bridge was being built. He had noticed workers assembling the column molds a couple of days ago. Whistling softly to himself, he maneuvered his truck into position and killed the lights. He sat for several minutes, watching, listening to make sure he had not been seen.

Just off to the left he spotted what he was looking for – the huge hole in the earth for the first piece of the column mold to be placed into. He risked shining the flashlight on his keychain down the hole. It was perfect. No telling how deep that damn thing was. He waited another few minutes to be safe. No one had seen him.

Mikel quickly moved to his tailgate and lowered it silently. He scooped up his broken rag doll, walked the twenty feet to the edge of the hole, and dropped her like a sack of garbage. He stood still in the darkness for a minute or two. No one had heard him.

He resisted the impulse to laugh out loud as he let his truck slowly coast backward to the street. If anyone saw him now, they would assume he had had car trouble. Another few minutes spent with the hood up, pretending to fix it, and he was ready to return to the Institute.

The following morning Mikel watched with interest as the pretty redhead on the news relayed the breaking news of five bodies discovered- four in the desert, and a badly beaten woman discovered at a local construction site. Information was sketchy and the news anchor promised to keep him updated. _You do that,_ he thought. _Keep dreaming. There's nothing to tell._

***

Bella and Nathan were unwittingly discussing Mikel's handiwork as they walked into the grocery store. "I'm telling you, Bella, you should learn to shoot," he stressed as he opened the door for her. "That woman they were talking about yesterday on the news? Her body was found not far from here. You need to be able to protect yourself."

"I know," she sighed. "I've thought about it off and on since Stacy moved out. The apartments are quiet, and I've never had any trouble at all. But being alone makes you rethink your safety."

They grabbed a cart and started down the produce aisle.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about that anyway," Nathan said. "We ought to start thinking about where home will be. I personally am hoping it's Virginia. We both grew up there. We both have family and friends there. It's a good place for us. But I can tell you've really come to like it here. And I know you have two more years to finish your degree. What do you think, Bella?"

"Well," she said, putting red leaf lettuce into a plastic bag, "my internship at Metzger ends when we break for Christmas, and Mr. Wallace hasn't said anything about me coming back. So, I was thinking finish out my commitments here this semester and start the spring semester at the University of Virginia. It's just a matter of paperwork to do the transfer. Grandpa would be thrilled about it; he and Granma Rose weren't keen on my crossing the country for school to begin with."

"And," she continued, squeezing his hand, "I just got engaged to the most awesome man on the planet, and he lives in Virginia, so it's kind of a no-brainer."

He grinned. "And you will be getting a ring, I promise. We'll pick it out together at Christmas." Then he pointed. "Fresh mushrooms?"

"Absolutely," she said. "I'll sauté them. They'll go great with the steaks."

Nathan placed the mushrooms in the cart, and said, "I gotta tell you, food shopping with someone you love is a hell of a lot more fun than doing it by yourself." And he kissed her on the nose. "And as far as the rest goes, we don't have to decide right this minute. All I want is to be with you. If that means we have a weird commuter relationship at first, I guess that's what it means."

They were interrupted by his cell phone. "Thomas," he announced, winking at her. Then his face hardened, and a glint came into his eye as he signaled to her that he needed a minute. He was frowning in concentration as he listened.

_A-hah_ , Bella thought. _So that's his "work face."_

"Yes, sir. Well, I am actually in Phoenix already sir. I can be there in half an hour. Who's the POC? Harrington? Right. Will do."

Nathan hung up his phone and looked at Bella. "Duty calls. I must be at the ME's office as soon as possible. Can you hold dinner for me?"

"Absolutely," she said. "Let's hit the checkout lane. It sounds like you don't need to be late."

***

"Dr. Harrington? Nathan Thomas, FBI. Nice to meet you sir."

"Nice to meet you, Agent Thomas. Let me show you what we've got so far."

The medical examiner strode over to the row of images he had on display. He pointed at the first and said, "Do you see that?"

Nathan moved closer. "It looks like some sort of wound."

"It is," Harrington said. "And I've seen it before, on an unsolved case from back last summer. Brendan Jones. A young man found stuffed in the trunk of his car. Still had all his personal belongings on him. He had the same puncture wound at the base of the skull. This one," the doctor pointed to a second picture, "is his. The rest of these are from the five bodies recently discovered, none of whom had ID on them."

Nathan looked up and down the row. "Doctor, we have a serious problem here."

"I agree completely, which is why I called the FBI," Harrington said solemnly. "It would seem we have a serial killer operating in the Phoenix area. Six victims that we know of. I've already had copies made for you of all my autopsy reports, notes, pictures, everything." He pointed to a box by the door. "It's all yours, Agent Thomas."

Nathan shook hands with Harrington and hefted the box. "Let me get started on reviewing all this," he said. "With any luck we'll be able to build a pretty good profile."

"I hope you can catch him quickly," Harrington said. "We've managed to identify three of the bodies so far. The two women's fingerprints were in the system for previous prostitution arrests. We've not released this next bit of information yet, but it turns out he's also a cop killer. The third victim was a Vegas detective."

"Hold that announcement for a couple of days, if you can," Nathan replied solemnly, the glint back in his eye. "I'll be in touch."

***

Stacy's old room had quickly transformed into a makeshift office. Nathan sat, surrounded by photos, frowning as he read the case report on Brendan C Jones. Bella watched him from the doorway.

"Dinner's ready, hon," she said. He looked up and smiled.

"I am so sorry, Bel," he said in frustration. "When I said spend some time with you, I really did mean it. But this," he gestured to all the papers, "this is just... wow. I've got to try and get ahead of this guy."

Bella walked over to him and turned white. With a trembling hand, she picked up a photo of Brendan. "I knew him," she said flatly. "He was my competition for the internship at Metzger. We were all shocked when his body was found. I just thought it was a mugging gone bad or something. Is he connected to these others?"

"It's a strong possibility," Nathan conceded. "All six of these people had the same strange wound on the back of their necks."

She set the photo back and took Nathan's hand. "Let's eat while dinner is still warm," she said. "And maybe we can talk about what type of gun I should learn to shoot."

***

Later, as Bella slept, Nathan eased open the case file of victim number two, a prostitute named Cindy. His hands started to shake, and his pulse quickened as he looked at her most recent mug shot. The resemblance was eerie; he had to do a double take to make sure it wasn't Bella. He closed the file and stared into space, his mind working what he knew so far like puzzle pieces.

***

"Bella, please come back to Virginia with me. Today."

"Look, I know this case has got you rattled, but I can't leave yet. I've got finals the next three days. I've got this week at Metzger to get through. Then I can go," she retorted, a hand on her hip. "I'll be fine, really. I talked to Grandpa this morning and he's flying out to drive back with me."

"I don't want to leave you here by yourself. It's not safe. But I have got to go back to my office. I need to wash all this through the computer models and get a handle on it so we can catch this guy." Nathan ran his hands through his hair.

She noticed the worry on his face. "What are you not telling me?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he lied with a straight face.

He wasn't about to let her know that one of the victims, the one beaten and brutalized, could have been her twin. He wasn't about to let her know that that, combined with the first victim being her competition for a job, had him spooked.

Bella was a part of this somehow. She was on this whack job's radar. He knew it. He knew it down to his toes. But there was no hard evidence, nothing he could show her or tell her, just a big, really bad gut feeling.

And so, he lied.

"Nothing," he said again, looking into her eyes. 

# CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Two days later, Mikel almost choked on his coffee as he watched the same redheaded news anchor reveal that one of the bodies found had been identified as that of a Las Vegas detective, who went missing while working undercover on the Strip.

_Well, that explains a well-fed transient,_ he thought bitterly. They had already identified Cindy and that other bitch too. He felt claustrophobic. Getting up, he paced his main workroom, running his hands across his face.

The only bit of good news lately was that the serum was finally right. Tommy had been inoculated with no side effects whatsoever. He even maintained his appetite.

Mikel returned to his notebook and re-read his last entry, then dialed his father's office. "You need to come down," he said. "I want you to see this."

***

At the office, Nathan was also pacing. "No pattern. No discernable pattern at all," he said again. "There's no commonality in the victims. Different ages, races, backgrounds. No known connection between any of them, except the fact that they were all killed by the same lunatic. And the only thing that shows that," he repeated, pointing to the pictures, "is this damn wound at the base of the skull."

"Agreed," said Steve Brown, Nathan's boss. "I also think a detective being killed doesn't signify anything either. I think our perp was snatching what he thought were degenerates, people no one would miss. Detective Allen just happened to be working undercover in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I do think the killer is male," Nathan continued. "And he must have used some sort of drug to incapacitate or subdue his victims. Allen wasn't a little guy, and he had combat training. He would have put up a fight if he sensed trouble."

"I want to go to Vegas," he said. "I want to canvass the areas where our three identified victims were last seen, show their pictures, ask around. Maybe somebody saw this guy and just doesn't realize it."

"We'll get you out there by nightfall," Steve said.

Nathan strode to the door.

"And Nathan?"

"Yes sir?"

"Carry your sidearm."

***

"Impressive, Mikel. Very impressive." Adolf nodded approvingly as he watched the demonstration.

His son was talented, no question. With a few keystrokes, Mikel transformed Tommy from a thoughtful and well-behaved child to an aggressive, violent warrior who responded only to Mikel and Adolf's voices and who was completely malleable. Another couple of keystrokes and Tommy was normal again, apparently with no recollection of anything.

"Get as much ready as you can, as quickly as you can," Adolf said to Mikel. "I want to begin inoculating the rest of the students and staff in the next day or two. And arrange for a dose to travel with me. I have a pain in the ass Senator I have to meet on Friday on the Hill. It's time I poured him some very special wine."

***

"I'm worried about her, sir," Nathan said despondently into the phone.

"Call me Manfred, please," came the reply. "And I can see why you'd be worried, given what you just told me."

"You're flying out to drive back with her, right?"

"My flight is already booked. I head out late Friday afternoon. You just concentrate on finding this guy, Nathan. I'll watch over Bella. We'll see you in a couple of days."

***

"Tommy!"

"Oh, hello, Miss Bella."

"I'm so glad to see you. I heard your family had taken you out of school. They changed their minds, I guess."

Mikel frowned as he watched this exchange. He punched in a sequence of keys, then hit enter, and smiled as he heard Tommy snarl, "I don't care what you think. Stay away from me, stupid bitch!" and walk away.

Mikel chuckled, and zoomed in on Bella to see her reaction. And felt like shit when he saw the devastated look on her face.

She just stood there, mouth agape and tears coming to her eyes. _What just happened?_ she asked herself. It was like Tommy was himself one moment and a totally different person the next. She shook her head slowly, wiping a tear from her cheek as she walked away.

Mikel hung his head. Feeling guilty was new to him. But it melted what little heart he had to see her with tears on her face. _I'm so sorry I made you cry, angel. I won't do it again. I promise, my love._

***

Nathan caught a break in Vegas. An old black hooker who went by the name Sweetness had seen Cindy get into a car with a blond man.

"And Lord have mercy, that man was stacked, let me tell you," Sweetness exclaimed over the coffee Nathan had bought her. "Muscled, fine body, with a pretty face to match. At least from what I could tell. I was, you know, catty-corner from them so I didn't get the full-on look. I didn't think nothin of it at the time, except maybe a little jealous of Cindy. When I heard ya'll had found her body, I asked the other girls round here. Nobody seen her since she left with that man. I know he involved, baby. I feel it."

"What about the car?" Nathan pressed.

"Nothin' big there. Old beat up grey four door. You know, the kind looks like they been too long as a rental. They get beat to hell used, then just sold outright."

"Yeah, Sweetness, I know the kind," Nathan said. He slid a card across the table. "Listen, you think of anything else, hear anything else, you call me, okay? And watch yourself."

"They is one other thing," she said. "There was a dude round here, Crazy Joe, they called him. Loony but harmless, sweet, you know? Anyway, he was down here every day, like clockwork. Ain't nobody seen him in a couple months now. He may be one of them other ones ya'll got."

She gave him a description of Crazy Joe. And she was right. He was one of the two John Does in cold storage in Phoenix.

Next, Nathan hit a few used car lots in the area. He finally found one man about a mile and a half from the Strip that remembered a strange encounter. "Guy had a wad of cash, wouldn't sign anything," the lot manager said. "I told him I wouldn't do the deal without a signature, and he walked away."

"How long ago was this?"

"Couple months, maybe three. He was agitated, you could tell. But he was trying to stay mellow about it, ya know? Like he didn't wanna attract attention."

"Then, about a week later, I come in one morning and notice I'm short one on the lot. I ask my guys if anyone moved one without filing the papers. They say no. I double check the inventory, and yeah, one's missing. A crappy little grey four door, the most worthless one I got, go figure that."

"Did this guy happen to be blond?"

"Yeah. Didn't get a real good look at his face; he had a ball cap on and mirrored shades. Bout six-four, I'd say, and muscled. And way blond hair, I mean, almost white."

"Anything else you can tell me?"

"Yeah, he had a really small tat on the side of his neck, kinda behind his ear. It was wicked looking. That Nazi symbol thingy, with blood dripping off it. I really think it pissed him off that I noticed it. He wouldn't tell me when I asked where he got it. Wasn't too long after that he left."

"Man, you've been really helpful," Nathan said sincerely, passing him a card. "You happen to see him again, give me a shout, all right?"

"Absolutely."

***

Bella sat for a moment to cool off. Although the apartment had come furnished, so she didn't have to deal with moving furniture, she still had several more boxes' worth of clothes and books and things to pack up. She was beginning to wonder if it would all fit in the truck bed.

She grabbed the next box and headed down the hall. As her hands busied themselves, her mind wandered back to Tommy's outburst yesterday afternoon. It had broken her heart. Whatever had happened to him over the break, it had changed him. The sweet youngster with so much promise that had become her favorite student was now cold and distant.

Her phone ringing pulled her back. "Hello?"

"Hey Bel, it's Nathan."

"Hi sweetheart. How's the case going?"

"I'm in Vegas for a day or two digging around. I should be flying back sometime tomorrow evening at this rate. And so far, I've gotten some good leads. Are you doing all right?"

"I'm good," she said.

He heard the tone. "Bella, what's wrong?"

She burst into tears and told him about Tommy.

"Oh baby, it'll be all right. Sounds like maybe that kid's got a lot going on at home that he's having trouble processing. He's what, ten, you said?"

"Uh – huh," she answered, sniffling.

"Well, speaking from experience, boys that age have a lot of trouble expressing themselves. You know, we punch the girl we have a crush on in the stomach, things like that. Whatever's going on with him, I'm sure it will pass, Bella. Just be there for him if he comes to you. That's all you can do. Okay?"

"Okay." He was relieved; she was sounding more like herself.

"I love you Bella. And I'll see you in a couple of days, all right?"

"I love you too Nathan. See you Sunday. And hey," she told him in mock seriousness, "no picking up any chicks in Vegas."

"Baby, I already found my Miss Right," he replied earnestly. "You just be ready to go ring shopping, missy."

It was magic. All she had to do was hear his voice, and she felt better. She returned to packing with a little spring in her step. _He's right_ , she reflected. _Ten-year-old boys are all over the map. Whatever's going on with Tommy, I'm sure it will work itself out._ She sighed as she counted the boxes again, then headed to the phone book. Flipping through, she found the number she needed, and dialed. "Hello," she said. "I need to rent a really small pull-behind trailer."

***

Ah. The privileges of wealth. One's own plane had meant no annoying baggage searches.

Adolf smiled. The special canister Mikel had rigged for him didn't have to pass through security. His limo pulled up to his hotel. Adolf casually retrieved his attaché case with the canister in it and nodded to the driver who held open his door. Making his way across the lobby, he favored the desk clerk with a smile.

"Hello again, Mr. Metzger, wonderful to see you," the striking blond said. "Your usual accommodations are ready."

"A pleasure as always, Marjorie." And he strolled leisurely to the elevator. He settled into the spacious penthouse, then dialed the Senator to invite him over for lunch the following day. That accomplished, he hung up, then dialed the Institute.

"Mikel, how are things there?"

He and his son chatted for a bit. Then Adolf ended with, "I will be back sometime tomorrow. Keep working on what we talked about."

"Yes, sir."

Two more calls, the last one to room service. He decided on the lobster.

***

As he feared it might be, Manfred's flight on Friday had been postponed an hour. Old Man Winter had been making life difficult for travel plans today. Hopefully he would be able to get out during the break in the weather they were mentioning on the radio. If he didn't leave tonight, he might not be able to at all until sometime early next week. He settled into the little bistro nearest his terminal gate to wait it out with a cup of coffee.

***

Adolf smiled silkily at the young woman behind the counter. "I need a flight to Phoenix," he said. His private plane had developed some sort of trouble so he would have to fly commercially. Not that it mattered. His luggage could now safely pass through any security device.

She consulted her monitor, then smiled. "We have flight 856 direct to Phoenix. It's scheduled to leave at six p.m."

"Any first-class seats available?"

"Yes, sir, you have your choice of rows four, five and seven, as well as aisle or window."

"Row four, window, please."

He casually strolled through security and took a seat just beside the gate counter, glancing at his watch. About a thirty-minute wait. While he waited, he relived his earlier victory.

The Senator had arrived precisely at twelve-thirty, punctual as always. Lunch had been right on time as well. Adolf had plied the man with small talk, exquisite food, and a vintage chardonnay.

What the Senator didn't know was that both his wineglass and his water also contained a fast-acting sedative. Once he was out, Adolf had injected him with the serum.

Two hours later, he awoke, groggy and disoriented. "Where am I?" he had slurred.

"In my hotel room, remember? We met for lunch to discuss the plant," Adolf had said reproachfully from across the room. "But you seem to have overdone the wine." He gestured to the two empty bottles he had arranged at the Senator's place setting.

The Senator winced. "Wow. That would explain the headache," he had managed. "I never had a problem with the hard stuff. But wine screws with me, every time." He attempted to stand, then sank wearily back into his chair.

"Honestly, I cannot continue to maintain a business relationship with you if you can't stay sober long enough to discuss the details," Adolf had announced, playing it to the hilt. "Stay here and sleep it off. When you're ready to be serious, come see me at the Institute." He glanced at his watch, then continued, "If you'll excuse me, I have another meeting, and then I must head to the airport."

He had had great difficulty containing a smile as he pretended to storm his way out of the room, leaving a confused and chastened Senator in his wake.

"Attention all passengers for flight 856 non-stop to Phoenix. We will begin boarding shortly," came the brisk announcement over the intercom. Adolf smiled. About one hundred feet away, Manfred too heard the announcement, and signaled to settle his bill.

Within ten minutes, first class passengers had been seated. Now the business class and coach passengers began to file down the narrow aisle. Adolf looked up idly at the people shuffling past him and was stunned. _The professor? After all these years? On the same damn plane? Surely not._

He got up and moved out to the aisle, with the pretense of retrieving something from his bag in the overhead storage compartment. As he did so, he glanced down the cabin toward the back of the plane. It was him, all right, he was sure of it.

Adolf sat down again, trying to hide his smile as he turned his attention to the window. _I can't risk killing him on the plane,_ he thought to himself, _but I can damn sure handle him once we land._ The revenge he had waited so long for was just hours away, and the thought made him giddy. He pulled out his cell phone and sent a quick text to Mikel. _Meet me at the airport yourself. There's been a change of plans. Flight 856. Come armed._ He hit 'send', then turned off his cell phone per the flight attendant's pre-takeoff instructions.

Further back, in row eighteen, Manfred said, "Gotta go, Bellissima. We should be there soon."

"Love you Grandpa. See you in a bit." 

# CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"What are we doing?' Mikel asked as Adolf climbed into the car.

"We are following those two right there," Adolf responded tersely. "Just do what I tell you." They circled the parking lot slowly until they saw the truck heading toward the exit.

"Don't lose them, Mikel, but don't get us seen. I mean it," Adolf snarled.

They followed, hanging back about fifty yards. When the truck pulled over and stopped, Mikel coasted to a stop on the opposite side of the street and doused the headlights. From this angle he could tell it was a man and a woman but not much else. The woman had some sort of ball cap on, throwing a shadow across her face. They walked into the apartment building.

Mikel turned and looked at his father with a raised eyebrow.

"This is about settling a long overdue score," Adolf said. "It must look random, accidental." And he explained what he wanted done. Adolf finished with, "Do what you want with the woman if she comes back out. But he dies. Understand?"

Mikel nodded his understanding and stepped out of the car. Silently, he crossed the street and settled into the deep shadows by the front entrance, waiting for his prey to appear, the blade tucked out of sight in his sleeve.

***

"So, did you get everything packed up?" Manfred asked, strolling around the apartment.

"Finally," Bella said. "I did a few boxes each day this week, so it actually wasn't bad. But I discovered I have accumulated more stuff than I thought. So, I called and planned for one of the little bitty U-Haul trailers to pull behind the truck. I thought we'd pick it up first thing in the morning."

"How's your young man, Bellissima?"

"Great. Except for catching this wicked case, that is. It's pretty big, Grandpa. If he can figure this creep out and stop him, well, it would be impressive for his first case out of the academy. Although if you were to ask Nathan, he's not even thinking about that part."

"I know for a fact he's not even considered that part. His focus is on stopping this lunatic, which is where it should be." Manfred paused, and changed topic. "So, you're transferring to college back home. Am I right in assuming wedding bells at some point?"

Bella laughed. "Never could get anything past you. How did you guess?"

"Oh, honey, I was young once," he smiled, putting an arm around her shoulders. "It was love at first sight with your grandmother. I managed to wait six whole dates before popping the question, when I really wanted to ask her after the first five minutes."

Bella got misty. "So, you're all right with this?"

"I'm more than all right with this. You are soulmates, you and Nathan. I guessed as much the day he came to see me. He had the look, that head-over-heels, can't-live-without-her look. I recognized it. Because I saw it in the mirror, every day, since the day I met Rose." His eyes took on a wistful glaze. "I miss her, Bella. I really miss her."

"I know, Grandpa. Me too."

Manfred sighed, and smiled. "How about that Italian now?"

"Sure thing."

They locked the door and headed down the stairs. Halfway down, her cell phone rang. "Hi Nathan, hang on just a sec," she said, beaming at her grandfather. He smiled at her and held his hands out for the keys.

"I'll give you some privacy. Meet you at the truck," Manfred said, and kissed her cheek.

He continued down the stairs, smiling to himself as he heard her talking in that awestruck tone. _True love_. He was so happy Bella seemed to have found it. _It was a beautiful gift indeed._

Bella said, "Hi, sweetheart. What's going on?"

"Well, I'm on my way to the airport," Nathan replied. "I've learned all I can here for the time being. What about there?"

"He made it in just fine. We're actually about to go have Italian." She stepped down to the ground level. Through the glass of the front door she could see her grandfather had stopped just outside.

Manfred walked out the front door of the building, and paused, staring up at the sky. _Rose, I miss you, and I wish you were here,_ he thought to himself.

"Manfred?"

A man's voice saying his name snapped him back to reality.

"Yes?" Manfred said, looking around.

"I have a gift for you from Adolf Werner," said the voice behind him. Manfred turned.

Nathan's conversation with Bella was interrupted by her screaming, "NO! Grandpa! Oh my God..."

"Bella, what's going on? Bella? BELLA???" The only response was distant screaming and what sounded like a struggle. She had dropped the phone.

Then the call dropped completely.

Nathan spun a hard U-turn in the middle of the intersection, and began to haul ass toward Phoenix, wishing like hell rental cars had lights and sirens. He dialed 911, gave his name and title and said, "There's something going on at 242 Pine Road in Phoenix, send an ambulance. Then put me through to the police chief please." A few anxious moments passed before the man came on the line. Nathan explained the situation and said, "I need someone to call me back and tell me what the hell's going on there. I'll be there as fast as I can."

Next he called his boss and filled him in. Then he hung up the phone and floored it.

***

Bella was in the fight of her life.

She had been walking out the door, talking to Nathan, when she saw the man come into view from the left. She heard the man say something about a gift from someone. She saw her grandfather turn toward him. In slow motion it seemed, she saw the stranger's right arm raise up, and the glint from the overhead light reflecting off the knife in his hand.

Without any thought for her own safety she ran forward, screaming. It only took a few seconds, but in that time the man had stabbed Manfred repeatedly; her grandfather lay crumpled on the pavement. She howled like a wounded animal and charged, jumping on the man's back, dropping the phone as she did so. She screamed and kicked and scratched and clawed. He shrugged her off like a mosquito. She charged him again. The backhand she took to the face took her breath away. She felt the sting of the blade as it sliced her arm.

Determined not to give up, Bella yelled, a warrior's yell, and ran at their attacker again. Then time seemed to stop. She felt a pain in her chest like she had never known. She looked down at her sweatshirt, quickly saturating with her blood. A massive left hook to the face knocked her ball cap completely off. She fell backward to the ground, slamming her head hard against the pavement.

As she started to lose consciousness, the last thing she saw was the man who had stabbed her leaning closely over her. She could see his lips moving, see his ghostly gray eyes, and then she slid into blissful darkness.

***

Mikel was absolutely crushed.

Manfred had gone down easily. Then all hell had broken loose behind him. The woman was fighting with all she had. He fought on autopilot, managing to land knife thrusts once to her arm, and once in the chest.

He did not know it was his angel until he struck her the second time and her baseball cap flew off. Seeing her lying there, bleeding by his hand, burned him to the core. He knelt over her. "Bella, angel, are you all right? Angel, please speak to me. Forgive me."

Then he felt rough hands on his shoulders, pulling him to his feet. It was Adolf. "Mikel, we must go. The police are coming. Move, Mikel. Now, goddammit!"

Mikel let himself be manhandled to the passenger seat and sat there blankly as Adolf sped off into the night.

***

"Stay with us." IV drip started.

"Pulse thready, BP ninety over sixty, pulse ox eighty-five. Sounds like a punctured lung. Lost a lot of blood. Starting plasma."

A faint rhythm, now stronger. A gasp for air.

"Call ahead and tell them to prep a surgical suite stat."

"Already did."

"How's the other one?"

"Dead at scene."

"Stay with us. Stay with us. You're gonna be all right. You're a fighter. Stay with us." Darkness again.

Lights flickering. Hallway? White walls. The sensation of being lifted, then lowered again. More lights.

A woman, leaning close. "Just relax, we've got you."

Darkness.

***

Nathan made it to the hospital a full half-hour before the surgeon came out to relay any news. He switched back and forth between sitting with his head in his hands, and pacing. He jumped to his feet when the door to the waiting room opened. Then, his shoulders sagged.

"You must be Nathan," said a booming but kind voice. "I'm Max Jones. I work with Manfred. I came as quick as I could."

Nathan extended a hand half-heartedly.

"Any word?"

"No." And he held his head in his hands again. "No one will tell me anything. Not a thing." He lifted his head and looked at Max, his eyes filled with tears. "I can't lose her, I just can't."

"I was there the day Bella was born," Max said gently. "Manfred and I have been friends since 1945. They're tough people, Nathan." And he rested his hand on Nathan's shoulder to comfort him.

The door opened again. It was the head surgeon. "Amsel?"

Max and Nathan nodded.

The surgeon sat down across from them.

"Bella is serious but stable. She lost a lot of blood. We gave her a unit of plasma at the scene, and three units of blood once she got here. She has two hairline fractures, one at the back of her skull and the other on her right cheekbone. She also sustained a severe concussion, a stab wound to the chest that collapsed her right lung, and a slice on her arm that needed fifty stitches, in addition to cuts and contusions on her face where her assailant hit her."

Nathan's fists doubled up at this news; Max patted his shoulder. The surgeon continued, "We took her into surgery to repair some damage and successfully re-inflate the lung. She'll be staying here the next several days, but I see no reason why she won't make a full recovery."

Nathan's relief was palpable.

"And Manfred?" Max asked solemnly.

"We tried to resuscitate him, both on scene and once he arrived here. I'm sorry, but the damage was just too great."

Max lowered his head and was silent for a moment. When he cleared his throat and spoke, it was raw with emotion. "What's the next step?"

"The hospital chaplain will be by shortly. Please let us know if there's anything else at all we can do."

"Keep taking care of the love of my life," Nathan said earnestly. "When can I see her?"

"She's still in recovery. We'll be moving her to ICU tonight because of the blows she took to the head. When they are severe enough to cause hairline fractures, we want to keep a really close eye on things. So, she'll be in ICU for observation for probably thirty-six to forty-eight hours, then to a regular room for a couple of days after that. My OR nurse, Alicia, will come let you know when we move her to ICU. It shouldn't be much longer."

"Thanks, doc." They watched the surgeon step out to talk to a uniformed officer and what looked to be a detective.

Max exhaled. "I just lost my best friend. Because of a mugging."

Nathan looked at him and saw the grief.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Jones. I only met him once, talked with him a couple of times. But I could tell he was a really good guy."

"You don't know the half of it, son," Max said, with a mournful smile. "We were friends for over sixty years. Hell, he was like a brother. He was one of the most decent men I've ever known."

"You stay with Bella," he said, rising. "I'll be back to see her later. I have calls to make, services to arrange. Do me one favor, Nathan," he continued. "Don't tell her about Manfred, and don't let anyone else either. Not until I get back. Okay? She'll be devastated. I want to be there for her when she hears. She's the granddaughter I never had."

"I promise, sir."

***

"Mikel."

No answer. Adolf tended to the deep claw marks on his neck. His patient sat catatonic.

"Mikel, drink this." Adolf worked the glass of brandy into his hand. And waited. No movement. Sighing, he sat beside his son and maneuvered the glass up to Mikel's lips. He drank, swallowed, shuddered.

He blinked several times, then slowly turned his head to look at his father. Adolf was amazed to see he was crying.

"I killed her," Mikel sobbed like a little kid. "I killed my angel."

Adolf pressed him for more information, but Mikel was unresponsive. Finally, Adolf decided that sleep would be best. He guided Mikel to his room, took his shoes off, and tucked him in. He stayed until Mikel fell into sleep. Then he headed for Sub-Level Three.

***

Nathan and Max went out into the hallway and approached the men that had been talking to the surgeon. The one in the suit said, "I'm Detective White, and this is Officer Maguire. He was first on scene." Handshakes were made.

"Your lady friend's one hell of a fighter," White said. "The ER team told me they recovered a lot of the perp's skin from under her nails. If the bastard's DNA is anywhere on file, we should be able to get a match."

"Something tells me we'll have a prior sample to match it to," Nathan said grimly. And he brought up the multiple homicide case he was involved in. "Cindy, the victim that was raped repeatedly. Bastard didn't bother to wrap it. So we have a DNA sample. My gut tells me it will match the skin Bella got."

Then he shared his belief that at least part of it tied to Bella somehow. "Cindy looked so much like Bella that they could have been twins. Brendan Jones was Bella's competition for the internship. I do not believe that these are coincidences. I have no hard evidence to back this yet, just a strong gut feeling. So I am asking, as her fiancé, as a fellow law enforcement officer, that we at least consider instructing the hospital to screen anyone that calls in asking a bunch of questions about Bella. If they're not on a list that Max and I make, they get told that she's dead. Please. If he knows she survived, he may try it again."

White nodded. "I'll ask up the chain, but yes, I agree it's the safe thing to do. Let me call the chief." And he stepped away.

A woman in scrubs stepped forward. "Mr. Thomas?"

Nathan whirled around.

"I'm Alicia. We've got her settled in ICU. Please follow me."

He turned back to the trio. "Talk later?"

"Absolutely," Max said, with White and Maguire nodding in agreement.

He bolted down the corridor. 

# SECTION SIX: BACK TO THE LIGHT
# CHAPTER SIXTEEN

She looked so frail, so tiny.

The entire right side of Bella's face was bruised, with an ugly black bruise centered on that beautiful cheek. That and the ebony of her hair seemed to make her skin snow white, almost transparent. Her knuckles were banged up from pummeling her attacker with all her might. Her right forearm was swathed in bandages.

Nathan pulled a chair up as close as he could, and gingerly took her right hand in his. She was still out from the anesthesia and the pain medications. He leaned forward, touching his forehead to her bed, and all the worry and fear wrung out of him in silent tears.

Then he felt a delicate hand, feather soft against his hair. He lifted his head and saw those blue eyes gazing at him drowsily.

"Hi baby," she whispered before drifting back into sleep.

She danced between dream and lucidity for a time, and it was a strange dance. Her eyes darted back and forth behind closed lids. Several times she shuddered. Every muscle in her body seemed to tense, and just when Nathan thought he ought to get the nurse, she relaxed again.

He had been sitting at her bedside for two hours when she began to moan. It was the sound of a wild animal, cornered, fighting to survive, and it broke his heart. Bella's eyes popped open wide, huge, and now she was trying to scream, trying to sit up, fighting off the attacker from her dream.

"Bella, it's me. It's me. You're safe now, baby. It's Nathan," he repeated over and over. But it seemed she could not hear him, still struggling blindly against an apparition. He pressed the call button frantically.

"Yes?" said a voice through the intercom.

"Help her," he pleaded.

Moments later the nurse came through the door with an IV sedative. She injected it into the mainline and in another few moments Bella calmed and returned to sleep.

"What's happening?" a frightened Nathan asked.

"She's sustained a trauma to her head," the doctor who had just entered the room explained. "So it may take longer for the cobwebs to clear, so to speak. Concussive injuries like hers can be tricky. She's also survived a horrific attack. What you just saw may be her mind replaying it."

"Do you think she'll remember it once she comes to?"

"Hard to say. It really depends. Some people never regain the memory of the incident. Others remember every detail. Still others have little pockets of memory. They may recall seeing the other car run the light, for example, and then it fast-forwards to remembering the airbag deflating, with just a blank space in between."

She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "The best thing for her right now is sleep. The body can do amazing things to heal itself. Of course, with a concussion we'll follow standard protocols. We'll be waking her every hour or so to check progress. And we'll run at least one more CAT scan while she's in ICU."

Another nurse poked her head in. "Mr. Thomas? You've got friends in the waiting room."

He looked at Bella.

"Go take a little break," the doctor said gently. "She's in good hands. If she wakes before you get back, we'll come get you, I promise."

Nathan walked down the corridor to see Max, Stacy and Brad all standing there. His eyes filled with tears as Stacy held out her arms. "God, Stacy, we almost lost her," he managed.

"But we didn't,' she said, patting his back. "She's tough as hell. That's one of the things we love about her."

They walked over and sat down, and Nathan brought Stacy and Brad up to speed on everything that had happened.

"Full recovery? Oh, thank God," Stacy said.

***

_His angel? What the hell did that mean?_

Adolf was determined to find out. As soon as he was sure Mikel was asleep, he went to the one place where an answer might be – Mikel's workrooms. The kid spent almost all his time down there. Flipping on the light, he went to the computer, and entered the login password.

"Invalid login," flashed in ugly red letters.

What the hell?

Adolf re-entered the password. And got the same error message.

Mikel had changed the login for this terminal. Why? Only he and Adolf even knew about this level, much less had access to it.

He thought for a moment, then typed _"Angel"._

_Welcome, Mikel,_ displayed on the screen.

Adolf didn't like this one bit, and he had a feeling it was about to get worse. He pulled up file after file that had nothing whatsoever to do with the Reich, or with the research, or with anything that was supposed to be most important. Every single one of them was about Bella.

Monitoring her movements around the campus, video, audio, pictures, journal entries about her. He opened one picture and gazed at it for a long time.

_That explains the woman he had down here,_ Adolf reflected. _They could have been sisters_.

His son was quite obviously obsessed with the granddaughter of his worst enemy. _And the sad part is, you read her last name when Wallace showed you the new tutor list, and you didn't connect the dots!_ his mind chanted.

Well, she was dead now, along with that blaspheming bastard. And he was about to help his son get over her and get back on track. One by one, all the pictures, videos, pages and pages of lovesick ranting, got dragged and dropped into the recycle bin. Then a press of a button. Done. Bella was history and now Mikel would move on.

"What did you just do?" Mikel said from the doorway, a little too calmly.

"Protecting you," Adolf responded, caught off guard. "Protecting us. She's dead. If anyone had ever seen what you had on this computer, it would have been used against you. You stalked her, Mikel. For months, from what I could tell. How do you think all that" - he gestured to the computer - "would have looked, especially now that she's dead?"

"She's dead because of _YOU_!" Mikel raged at the top of his lungs. "You had me do your dirty work, and now my angel is _DEAD_! And you think you can sneak down here and take her from me again, take all my memories?" Fists clenched, he walked slowly toward his father. "What, you think you can reset me, like some fucking _machine_ , that I won't love her anymore because her pictures are gone? Is that what you think? _IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK??"_

Adolf began to back away slowly. Something was very, very wrong here. Mikel had gone somewhere that Adolf could not reach him.

Mikel continued his slow approach, deliberately keeping himself between his father and the door. The look on his face was feral.

"Mikel, get hold of yourself." Adolf's tone turned dangerous. "Don't let some tramp cloud your judgment. You need to focus. Don't blow everything we've worked for all these years."

"Some _tramp_?? Fuck you, old man. We both know I can take you. I'm the perfect example of Hitler's 'master race', remember? You said so yourself," Mikel taunted, edging closer.

Adolf searched his peripheral for something, anything that he could use as a weapon. He noticed a pair of scissors on top of a small cabinet.

"Go for it. Please. I want you to," said the man he had raised.

Adolf faked right then lunged left. His left hand clasped around the scissors as Mikel closed the distance between them to two feet.

Then Adolf stepped back, disbelieving, looking down at the red flower blossoming in his chest. The smell of gunpowder filled the small room as he stumbled back into the wall and slid down. Mikel leaned down over him. Adolf remained alive just long enough to see those grey eyes filled with hate a few inches away from him and hear his son say, "Your Reich was a pipe dream. Welcome to reality, Adolf."

***

" _Bella, angel, are you all right? Angel, please speak to me. Forgive me."_ Bella's eyes opened, frightened, darting around the room. Then she frowned.

_Where the hell am I_?

"Hey, baby. You're awake."

She turned her head and looked into those hazel eyes she loved so much. "Hi," she said weakly. "Where am I?"

Nathan sighed. "You are in the intensive care unit at Phoenix Memorial," he said, gently squeezing her hand.

"And we're very glad to see you awake," came a voice from the doorway. She looked and saw Stacy, Brad, and Max standing there.

She closed her eyes. "We were attacked."

"We know, baby," Nathan said softly.

"I was on the phone with you," she said. "And then I saw this guy come up to Grandpa, and I heard him say something about a gift from someone named Werner? And the guy had a knife."

"He stabbed my grandpa, Nathan," she was frowning again now. "So I went to stop him and we fought, and I hit my head, I think. But I remember him leaning over me, speaking to me, and then – nothing."

"Did you say Werner?" Max asked, with a strange look on his face.

"Yes, Werner. And I remember exactly what the guy looked like. Even his tattoo."

Now Nathan had a strange look. "Tattoo?"

"Yes. On his neck. A swastika with blood on it. Nathan, he knew my name," she continued. "He called me by name and asked me to forgive him."

Max and Nathan exchanged 'we'll need to talk outside in a bit' looks.

Bella tried to sit up and winced. "Ouch. What all did I bump when I fell?"

"Baby, you took a knife to the chest. They had to re-inflate your lung. You also have a severe concussion, a couple hairline fractures, and fifty stitches under that arm bandage," Nathan told her.

"How's Grandpa doing? Is he in ICU too? When can I see him?"

They all were silent for a moment before moving closer to her, dreading the answer to the question, knowing it would break her heart.

Max came and sat and took her other hand. "Sweetheart," he paused. "I don't know how to tell you, but, he's gone, honey. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, no, no, no," Bella began to sob. She pulled her hands free and covered her face.

Nathan rubbed her arm gently and Stacy patted her leg, trying to comfort her.

After a time, she dropped her hands from her face, and looked into Nathan's eyes. She was still crying, but now he could see she was also pissed.

"Get someone in here who can draw," she said evenly, wiping away tears. "I remember his face. Let's catch this guy."

"That's the Bel I know and love," Stacy announced, wiping away tears of her own. "I told you guys she was tough as hell."

***

Mikel sat and stared at Adolf for some time. His father's words still burned in his ears.

_Don't let some tramp cloud your judgment_.

But she wasn't some tramp. She was his whole world.

Self-serving bastard. It was his insistence on settling some ancient wrong that had caused Bella's death.

Well, the king of hypocrisy was dead now. And everything Adolf had was now Mikel's to use as he liked. "But it won't bring back my angel," he muttered bitterly.

_But he wished it could. Oh, how he wished it could_.

Sighing, he got to his feet. Time to clear the trash out of his workroom again.

***

"His eyes were just a little further apart. And gray, like a winter storm," Bella urged. The tech pressed a few keys, then said, "Like this?"

Bella began to shake. "Exactly like that," she managed. "That's the man that killed my grandfather and attacked me."

The tech turned to Nathan. "She's got one heck of a memory. I've never worked with anyone who remembered so many details, and I've been doing this for ten years."

"Nathan," Bella said suddenly. "Someone else was there."

"What?"

"Someone else was there. This man was leaning over me, calling my name and asking me to forgive him. Right before I blacked out, someone put their hands on his shoulders and pulled him up. And they said something." She closed her eyes, frowning with the effort of recollection. She opened her eyes, frustrated. "Dammit. I can't remember. I know it's important, and I just can't remember."

Nathan could see her becoming increasingly agitated. "That's enough for now, Bella," he soothed. "You're doing great. Take a little break, okay? I'm sure it will come back."

He saw the tech out, then closed the door and returned to her bedside. She looked exhausted. Stroking her hair, he said gently, "Bella, maybe you should try to get some more sleep. You look worn out."

"I must love you. Anyone else who patronized me like that would get it with both barrels," she replied with a wan smile. "But you're right. I'm tired, baby. So, I'll sleep, and when I wake up let's try again. I just know I'm missing something really important," she added, tears coming to her eyes. "Okay?"

He touched his lips to hers. "Okay," he whispered.

***

Mikel stuffed Adolf's body in the trunk of the Jag, smiling at the irony. _There you go, father, one last ride in your favorite car._ _No one said it necessarily had to be up front._ Smiling ghoulishly, he had climbed behind the wheel and fired it up.

Now he was in the desert, coming up on the burial site. The plan was simple. It needed to look like Adolf had been overcome with guilt and killed himself in the same place where the victims had been dumped. Mikel had even gathered up the belongings he had hung on to so he could plant them in Adolf's car, along with a suicide note confessing to it all. He signed Adolf's name very convincingly.

As he suspected, the site had been processed then forgotten. He pulled up to within ten feet of the now open graves. Mikel placed Adolf's body behind the wheel, and the gun in his hand, having previously wiped his own prints off of it. He scattered the victims' possessions on the passenger seat and floorboard after pressing them into Adolf's hands. Lastly, he put Cindy's torn bikini briefs in Adolf's left hand.

Then, he walked back to the main road. A spring came to his step as he began the twenty-mile hike back into town. Twenty miles was a small price to pay.

***

"Mikel."

"What?" Nathan said.

Bella swiveled her head to look at him. "I remember now. The person who walked up and pulled the man leaning over me away. What he said was 'Mikel, we have to go.'"

"The creep who killed Grandpa is named Mikel," she repeated, with a steel edge to her voice. 

# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Bella and Nathan were watching television in her hospital room, waiting for the nurse to come back with discharge papers. "I am ready to get the heck out of here," Bella muttered, walking over to the window to gaze outside wistfully. "I've been in here five days. Enough already."

Then something coming from the television sparked her interest. "Turn this up," Bella said, turning from the window.

Nathan increased the volume. The local station was reporting a breaking story – Adolf W. Metzger, philanthropist and international businessman, had been found dead in the same location where four bodies had been discovered not long ago. Police had confirmed the presence of several suspicious items at the scene and were investigating the death as a possible suicide.

"Is that Metzger, as in Metzger Youth Institute?" he asked.

"Yes," she said simply. "Wonder what's up with that."

The screen flashed to the ribbon-cutting ceremony. As the old video rolled of Adolf's welcome speech, Nathan turned to ask Bella something and was instantly concerned. She had gone white and was leaning heavily against the bed.

He crossed the room in a split second. "Baby, you all right?"

"That's the voice," she stammered, clinging to him to try and steady herself. "That's the voice I heard say 'Mikel.'"

Nathan's phone rang. "Thomas," he said sharply. Then listened. He asked a few questions, listened again, then ended with, "I'll be there as soon as I get her settled."

He called Max. "You on your way? Good. There's been a development. We'll see you at the apartment. Stacy and Brad are already there."

"What's going on?" she asked as he hung up.

"That was Detective White. The items found with Metzger's body tie back to my case. I need to get out there. Max is about ten minutes out. We'll meet him at your place."

He turned and smiled at the nurse who had finally appeared with the paperwork.

***

Mikel could not believe his eyes.

He just had left the apartment complex after leaving flowers on the sidewalk where Bella died. His face had been on the news the past few days, so he had dyed his hair brown and was wearing tinted contact lenses and mirrored shades. As he made the right turn to get back out to the highway, a vehicle passed him. The man behind the wheel looked vaguely familiar, but Mikel couldn't place him. The woman in the passenger seat, however, Mikel would have known anywhere.

Mikel u-turned at the first opportunity and drove slowly back toward Bella's place, trying to remain calm and unnoticed. _It can't be her. I called. I called the hospital, they said she was dead. Even the news said two were killed, not one._

He pulled slowly into the campus parking lot across the street and watched. Her companion got out, then went around and helped her out. Mikel could see the sling on her right arm. He could see that she moved gingerly toward the building, pausing and leaning on the man for support when she saw the flowers lying on the sidewalk. He could also see the man kiss her and stroke her hair.

_It is! Bella. She's alive! My angel is alive!_ He thought he would weep with joy.

Then he remembered where he had seen the man before. On the Strip outside Planet Hollywood, getting into a cab with his angel.

His belly burned hot with anger.

_Those bastards_. Tricking him. Letting him believe his angel was gone. _They'd pay for that, every single one of them. Starting with that pretty boy who was trying to steal his woman_. His smile was a vengeful one as he sped away.

***

"Wow, Stace, you've never hugged me this softly before," Bella said as she returned her friend's embrace.

"Well, I figure you're still banged up, so I'll wait for a real hug 'til you're all better," Stacy replied with a mischievous grin. "Then watch it, sister."

"Stacy, I need to leave," Nathan said. "Max should be here any minute. I'll fill you all in right quick, then I'll have to take off for a while."

"Go right ahead," Max announced as he walked in. "The gang's all here."

So he told them about the phone call from Detective White. "I need to get over there," he said. "White says there was personal stuff belonging to each victim inside Adolf's car. He's working on obtaining a warrant for the Metzger Institute."

Bella shook her head. "I met him, talked with him, several times. He just didn't figure as the serial killer type. He always seemed very, I don't know, elegant, I guess."

"Well, a DNA profile will tell us a lot," Nathan said. "We know it won't match the skin samples the hospital collected from you, because you know it wasn't Adolf that attacked you. But," he continued, "if his DNA comes back as a match in" - he stopped himself from mentioning Cindy's rape- "other areas of this case, then we have real reason to believe it was actually Adolf and this Mikel character working together somehow."

To Bella he said, "Please do me a favor, and stay inside, okay? We don't know if Mikel may be watching this place or not. I really don't want him knowing you're still alive. If he believes you to be dead, you're safe. Okay?"

"Okay," she mock-pouted. "But can we at least order Ping's? I've been on hospital food all week."

He laughed and held her close. "Absolutely. Order the usual for me too." Over her shoulder he mouthed to the others, _Don't let her out of your sight,_ and got three thumbs-up in reply.

"Good," she said. "I'm off to the shower. I love you, Nathan. See you when you get back." And she and Stacy went down the little hall.

"Did you see the flowers someone left outside?" Nathan asked Max quietly.

"Yes," Max said solemnly. "Fair sized bouquet, too."

"What flowers?" Brad said. "There weren't any when Stacy and I got here."

"When was that?"

"I don't know. A half hour, forty minutes ago, maybe."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Follow me," he said.

The three men walked outside and tried to look casual as they bent to examine the fresh flowers. Mixed in with the fragrant arrangement was a wide swath of ribbon that said _Rest in Peace, Angel._

"Holy shit. He's been here. Today," Nathan breathed. Then, "Brad, see what you can do about arranging to ship her stuff home. Max, call the airlines. See if you can book us a flight out of here first thing in the morning. I'll be back as quick as I can."

"I'm coming with you," Max chimed in. "If this Adolf character is in any way responsible for my best friend's death, I want to know about it. And something tells me he's not who he seemed to be."

Nathan hesitated.

"You both go," Brad offered. "Stacy and I will stay with her. Besides," he continued, indicating his right calf, "I'm packing, just in case."

Nathan grinned. "Look at that, a bean counter that's armed."

"No sense taking chances," Brad grinned back. "Call and let us know what's going on." And he headed back inside.

"Let's go, Max," Nathan pointed to his rental car. "And you can tell me why you think Metzger's not what he seems to be on the way."

As they drove the twenty miles out to the scene where Adolf's body had been found, Max filled Nathan in on the history that he and Manfred had shared regarding one Adolf Werner. Nathan almost hit the curb at one point. "Werner? As in, the name Bella heard the man say to Manfred before he stabbed him?"

"Yep," Max answered bitterly. "After the night we missed him by that much in the graveyard, he went off grid. No clue where he was. His name was on our lists, but never pinged on the radar anywhere. Now I know why." He pulled out his cell phone, and continued, "So now I'm gonna call in some favors, and have Adolf Metzger's background looked into. Maybe we'll find the transition point where he went from one identity to the other."

"I agree," Nathan said. "And maybe it will also lead to how this guy knew this Mikel creep." And he turned down the dirt road toward the scene as Max dialed. He waved to Detective White as he put the car into park.

"Hello again, Detective, thanks for calling me," Nathan began as he stepped out of the vehicle. "What do we have?"

"Take a look," White replied, motioning to the Jaguar, now roped off with yellow tape. "We've not moved anything yet, just roping off the car and taking pictures. Coroner should be rolling up any moment. Check out what the DB's holding in his left hand; something tells me we already have met who they belong to." His phone rang just as the coroner's van pulled in behind Nathan's car. "Be right back," he said to Nathan, then flipped open his cell and walked over to greet the ME.

Nathan glanced at Max, who had just hung up his phone. "Okay, I've made arrangements for this guy's prints to be run through all available databases," Max informed him. "If my hunch is right, that man is actually Adolf Werner, not Adolf Metzger."

White and Dr. Harrington came back over to join Nathan and Max by the tape barricade. Nathan introduced Max and the doctor, then said, "Are we ready gentlemen?" They nodded their assent. A uniformed officer raised the tape and they ducked underneath and approached the car. As they walked White mentioned, "The chief called me just now. Our warrant for the Metzger Institute should be ready within the next hour or so."

Now it was Nathan's turn to make a call. He reached the Flagstaff office and arranged for four agents to join him in Phoenix when the search warrant was served. Putting away his cell phone, he looked at the group and announced, "We've got FBI backup in route. With any luck they'll get here right about the time we get that warrant in our hands."

Harrington immediately went around to the driver's side to confirm death and take a liver temperature; the others concentrated their initial efforts on the contents of the vehicle to give the coroner room to work. But Nathan did notice the torn bikini briefs in Adolf's lifeless hand. _Cindy's,_ _gotta_ _be,_ he thought bitterly. The next thing that caught his attention was something shiny on the passenger floorboard. Pulling on gloves, he asked White and Harrington, "Are we clear to move things?"

White replied, "As far as I know, yes. My guys have taken all the pictures we need, along with written notes detailing item location. Doc?"

"My part is done here as well, except for loading the body for transport. Help yourself."

Nathan gently opened the passenger door, reached in carefully, and pulled the shiny object from its resting place. He recognized the number on it from the case files. It was Detective Allen's badge. He motioned to one of the crime scene techs, who brought over an evidence bag.

Then he and Max walked around to the driver's side where they could see the face better.

"Is it him?" Nathan asked Max.

"I believe so," Max said. "Keep in mind the last time anyone saw him that I am aware of is when an asset identified him as being in Berlin in November 1989. Snowbird would be able to tell us right away if this was him or not; she was a sharp old bird. But she's gone now, died years ago. And Manfred," Max continued solemnly with a little hoarseness to his voice, "would have recognized him immediately."

He coughed. "Anyway, prints should tell the tale. Now that Germany's one big happy Germany again, we'll be able to access any prints that East Germany built on their people. The way things were back then, trust me, they kept tabs on everyone. So, we should get a hit."

One of the techs pointed out, "Hey, got what looks to be a suicide note here." It had fallen to the driver's side floorboard. Picking it up gingerly with tweezers, she bagged it and sealed it before handing it to Nathan. He in turn showed it to Max. "Is it usual to type the whole thing but actually sign your name?"

"Interesting point," Max conceded. "I'm not sure. Maybe Harrington or White would know." And then the light bulb went off in his head, "I'm glad he did, though. We have a sample of Adolf Werner's handwriting, on the back of an old picture. Maybe there's enough of a sample here in his signature to compare. Just to make sure he actually signed it."

"What are you driving at?"

"Nathan, look at this purely as a profiler for a minute. This guy was sharp. I mean sharp. He disappears underground for almost thirty years without leaving a trace, surfaces again just long enough to pull whatever it was out of that damn wall, then disappears again until now. Only now he's got a new name, with no obvious or readily traceable link to his past. Does that strike you as the kind of person that would be sloppy enough to keep souvenirs from victims, or commit suicide out in the open like this?"

"No, it honestly doesn't," Nathan answered. "It doesn't mesh together at all. I guess I have been leading with my heart on this one, especially lately."

Max put his arm around the young man's shoulders. "As have I," he said. "No shame in it. Feeling deeply about a case can inspire you to new heights to solve it. You just must learn when you need to put that part aside and be impartial and logical about it. And that, my boy, takes some agents years to master."

***

"God, I feel almost human again," Bella announced as she and Stacy walked into the living room. "I can't wait to get these stupid bandages off for good, though. Thanks, Stace, for helping me with my hair. I don't think I could've managed it by myself with this arm."

"No problem," Stacy responded. "And, I learned just now that if I ever get bored with chemistry and math, I'd make one heck of a nurse. We got you cleaned up without flinging too much water everywhere and look at how pretty those new bandages are. I do pretty good work!"

The doorbell sounding caught them by surprise at first. "Ping's!" Bella squealed like a little kid.

"I'll get it," Brad strode toward the door. He paid the man and brought the food to the table. Bella stood for a moment, eyes closed, breathing in the fragrant aroma. "I will never ever take the smell of good Chinese food for granted again," she sighed contentedly.

She went to grab plates and was immediately shooed away by Stacy. "We've got this," Stacy admonished. "You go sit down. I'll bring you a plate." Then, "Oh, honey," as she noticed Bella beginning to cry. Stacy went and put her arms around her.

"You... you sounded like Granma Rose just then," Bella stammered into Stacy's shoulder. "Now I've lost them both, Stace...."

There wasn't much Stacy could do besides hug her best friend while she wept.

* * *

Mikel paced like a trapped leopard in his main workroom, back and forth, back and forth, lost in thought. The initial shock at seeing Bella alive had been replaced with both a need to punish those who tried to keep them apart, and a huge longing to take her into his arms and profess his love. But she had at least one person with her, presumably all the time. She still had a sling on her right arm, and she didn't look that stable walking into the building; no one in their right mind would leave her alone right now.

Be rational for a moment, his mind counseled. If you use the proper enticement, it does not matter if she's alone or not. Find something she holds dear, use it as bait. She will come to you.

Yeah, right. Like what? Mikel didn't have access to her outside the Institute. He had wanted to go to her house and plant some bugs, so he could see and hear her all the time, but the opportunity had never presented itself. He had never even been sure where she lived, until... Don't go there! His mind warned. Do not go there. That part's over now.

As he paced and debated with himself, he happened to glance absentmindedly at his computer console. And stopped pacing. There on his screen, walking from one class to the next, was the answer to the problem. Mikel picked up his phone, dialed an extension. "Mr. Wallace? Could you please locate one Tommy Bennett, and could you and he please meet me in my father's office in say, twenty minutes?'

He could hear the headmaster starting to make some excuse not to, so he leaned over and tapped a few keys on his computer, then pressed send. A second later he heard Wallace respectfully say, "Yes, sir."

"Come to think of it, Wallace—round up all the chosen. And let's meet in the war room instead."

"At once, sir."

Mikel smiled as he hung up the receiver.

Nanotechnology rocks.

# CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A squad car pulled up on scene and the chief himself got out. "Here you go," he said, handing the warrant to White. "Freshly approved by Judge Walker."

Nathan finished the phone call he was on. "That was my agents," he said. "They're about forty minutes away; they'll meet us out there." He turned to Max and said, "Let's head to the ME's office. We can get those fingerprints scanned in and sent to Langley and then go out to the Institute."

To the chief and White he asked, "You guys in route?"

"In a few," White replied. "My guys here need to wait for the tow truck, so we can get this hot rod back to the evidence garage. I'll give you a call when we gear up to head to the Institute. Any guesses on needing SWAT, Chief?"

"I wouldn't think so, it's a school full of kids," Nathan pointed out.

"I agree. But we'll have them on scene and on standby, just in case," the chief answered. "If anything happens, they can breach within three minutes. Besides, it's the Christmas break, so there should be fewer people around."

"See you there," Nathan called as he and Max climbed back into his car for the trip to Dr. Harrington's.

As they drove, Nathan called to check on Bella. Brad answered, said "hang on a second" and walked down the hall to Stacy's old room.

"We're doing as well as can be expected here," Brad said in response to his inquiry. "Chinese food, and tears. She's really starting to deal with his loss now. Stace is doing her best to keep her spirits up, but it's hard."

"Put her on, please," Nathan answered.

A long pause, then a sniffly, "Hello?"

"Hi baby," Nathan said. "How are you feeling?"

"I miss him, Nathan, I just... miss him," Bella sobbed.

"I know, Bella, and I'm so sorry." He switched topics to try to focus her attention on something else. "You're saving me some fried rice, right?"

"Yes, I am, and nice try. I really think I just need to cry for a while, and then sleep."

"Try to get some sleep, baby. I'll be back as quick as I can. Okay?"

"Okay. I love you, Nathan."

"Love you too. See you in a while." Hanging up the phone, he sighed deeply. "It tears me up that she's hurting like that, and there's not a lot I can do to make it better," he confided to Max.

* * *

"I think I will go lie down," Bella said to Brad and Stacy as she replaced the phone on its cradle. "I am exhausted."

"Well, you've been through a lot," Stacy agreed. "Physically, psychologically, and emotionally, and it all takes its toll. We'll hang out here with you until Nathan gets back, okay?"

"Thanks, guys," Bella smiled. "I love you both, I hope you know that."

"We do," Brad replied, hugging her gently. "We love you too. And we'll be out here in the living room if you need anything."

Bella turned and made her way to her room.

* * *

"Are we clear?"

"Yes SIR!" the three young voices answered in unison.

"You know your assignments. Dismissed."

"Yes SIR!"

Nate and Chris filed out, but Tommy and Mr. Wallace remained.

"Tommy, Mr. Wallace," Mikel said. "Listen very carefully. This is what I want you to do." When he had finished, he made each of them repeat it back to him. Then he smiled.

"Excellent, Tommy," he told the boy. "Now, go with Mr. Wallace to his office, and get it done."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

About ten minutes after Bella had retreated to her room, the phone rang again. Stacy answered. "Hello?"

A child's voice, crying. "Miss Bella? Oh, Miss Bella, you need to come. I need you."

"Wait, wait, calm down," Stacy soothed. "This is Stacy, Bella's friend. Who is this?"

"Tommy," responded the small voice, crying harder now. "She's my tutor, and I'm in trouble, and I don't know who else to turn to. She must come. Please. Please, can I talk to her?"

"Hold on just a second, sweetheart," Stacy said gently. She went to Bella's room and knocked on the door. "Bel?"

"Yeah?" she said sleepily.

"A kid named Tommy's on the phone for you. He's crying, Bel. Says he needs you."

Bella came fully awake, fumbling for the phone at her bedside. "Thanks, Stace, I got it," she spoke into the receiver, then heard the click as Stacy hung up the living room phone. "Tommy?"

"Oh Miss Bella, I'm in serious trouble. You must help me. You must come. I know I can trust you."

"What's going on, Tommy?"

"I don't want to tell you over the phone. I don't feel safe. Please Miss Bella, please come and get me."

"Of course. Where are you?"

"At the school. Oh, Miss Bella, please hurry. I don't know how much longer..."

And then he screamed.

And the line went dead.

"Tommy! Tommy!"

Bella bolted out of bed, fumbling for her shoes. "Stacy!" she yelled.

Stacy and Brad came quickly down the hall.

"We've got to get out to the Institute. Now. Tommy's in trouble. I don't know what's going on, but it's big. He was talking to me and then he screamed and then the line went dead."

Brad frowned. "Nathan told us to stay here, Bella."

"He's ten, Brad, he's just a kid. And he was obviously scared to death about something," Bella snapped. "I have to help him. He's counting on me. You can stay if you want. I'm going."

"You won't be able to drive very well with that bad arm," Stacy said. "So, we're driving you. But we're gonna go, and find the kid, and bring him back here, got it?"

"You're the best, Stace," Bella smiled. "Let's go."

Brad shrugged his shoulders. "Fine," he muttered. "I know better than to argue with you two. But I'm gonna call Nathan and tell him what's going on."

* * *

Tommy put the phone down and asked, "How was that?"

"Absolutely perfect," Mikel replied. "Great job."

To Mr. Wallace he said, "Remember, I want her alone. If she brings anybody with her, we will incapacitate and subdue them only. No killing—yet. And be ready to raise the barricades when it's time."

"As you wish, sir."

* * *

Nathan left Max at the ME's office. Somewhere at the FBI's main lab a supercomputer was comparing prints from a dead man in Arizona to fingerprints on file around the globe. They had talked to Detective White, who had mustered personnel at the station. "Let's head out there as a unit," he suggested. "Your agents just pulled up here anyway, and the chief wants to run through the game plan before we get out to the Institute."

"Sure," Nathan said. "Be there in a bit."

"I'm staying here," Max told him. "I want to be able to track our progress with the fingerprint match."

"Sure," Nathan replied. "I'll keep you updated on what we find at the Institute." And he headed to police headquarters about ten minutes away.

Nathan joined the others in a conference room at the station and ran through a quick briefing about the roles each person would play onsite at the Institute.

"Logan. Your men ready?" The chief asked the SWAT team leader.

"Armed and ready, sir."

"Everyone clear on their assignments?"

They all nodded their assent.

"Dismissed. Let's head out. It's a half hour drive."

* * *

"Great, just great," Brad said, as they neared the turnoff to the gates at the Metzger Institute. "Nathan's phone is going straight to voicemail."

"I'm sure he's busy, and we won't be here that long," Stacy pointed out. "Why don't you just send him a text? He'll be able to retrieve that even when he's on a phone call."

"Good idea, baby, didn't think of that," Brad said, and shot off a quick message to Nathan's phone.

"Okay, here we are," Stacy announced. "Now, Bella, let's go find Tommy and get the hell out of here."

They walked into the main hall and were immediately met by the headmaster.

"Bella! Thank God you've come. I found Tommy Bennett a short time ago. He's very distraught. I have him in my office. He managed to tell me that he called you and you were coming, but nothing else. He was sobbing when I found him, and he hasn't stopped."

Bella's face filled with concern. "Take me to him, please, Mr. Wallace."

"Right this way." And they all went into Wallace's office.

Mikel witnessed the exchange and smiled to himself. All according to plan so far. Now for the next step.

* * *

About twenty minutes away, in the police convoy, Nathan reached for his phone to call and check in on Bella again. And was dismayed to see his battery was depleted. "Seriously?" he said, plugging it into the charger. He'd have to try again in a little bit.

* * *

"Miss Bella!" Tommy exclaimed, running to her.

She hugged him as best she could with one good arm. "Oh sweetie. Are you all right?"

"He's just fine," came a silky voice from the doorway.

Bella, Stacy and Brad turned to see Mikel strolling languidly toward them, weapon drawn. On either side and just behind him were two students, each about five ten to six feet and muscled, and each with a wicked looking knife in his hand. They spun back to appeal to Mr. Wallace for help—and noticed he also now held a gun.

"What the hell?" Brad exclaimed, reaching toward his own weapon.

"Not a good idea," Mikel intoned reproachfully, and shot him in the left knee. As Brad screamed and collapsed, clutching his leg, Mikel smoothly instructed Wallace, "Please relieve our guest of his sidearm."

"Yes, sir." And Wallace roughly pulled up Brad's pant leg and wrested the weapon out of reach.

"You bastard!" Stacy started toward Mikel with menacing intent. Bella grabbed her by the arm.

"Stace, no," she pleaded. "He will shoot you."

"My angel is most definitely right about that," Mikel admitted. "Male or female really makes no difference to me. Unless it's Bella, that is. My angel," he finished almost dreamily.

Bella was shocked to realize that he was blushing a little. He was nervous talking to her. He was trying to hide it, but there was a slight tremor in his hands. This man is mentally unstable, Bella realized. He will go off at the slightest provocation. I can't let him hurt Tommy or Stacy.

Pushing Stacy and Tommy behind her, Bella took a deep breath, and stepped slowly forward. "Why do you call me that?" she asked very gently.

"Because you are," Mikel said, his color deepening, a little shocked by the question. "I have loved you since the first time I saw you, almost a year ago now."

"Mikel, my friend is bleeding. Can Stacy please go to him and put pressure on the wound?"

Mikel shrugged. "Why not. I don't care about them one way or the other. What matters is you. My angel."

Bella turned her head slightly, without taking her eyes off Mikel, and said carefully, "Stacy, take my bandage off my arm and use it like a tourniquet to bind Brad's leg. That should lessen the blood flow. Then look around and see what's in here that you can use to put pressure on it."

Suddenly he moved to within touching distance of her. She willed herself not to shrink back. "Does it hurt?" he asked, pointing to her as Stacy unwound the bandage.

Although she certainly did not want to, Bella kept her voice soft and non-threatening when she answered.

"What exactly are you referring to, Mikel?" she asked, gazing at him solemnly. "My face where you hit me? My arm where you sliced me? My chest where you stabbed me? Or my heart you broke when you killed my grandfather, the only blood relative I had left in this world?"

His face drained of color, and she was amazed to see tears in his eyes. "So now you're an orphan too. Bella, I didn't know it was you, I swear to God," he began. "It wasn't until your hat came off that I knew it was you. And it crushed me to think I killed you. My angel. My love."

Stacy interrupted.

"Mr. Mikel?" she said timidly.

He looked at her, his face filled with irritation. "Yes?" he snapped.

"Can one of your people help me find some towels or something for Brad's leg? You see, he's the love of my life, and I would be heartbroken to lose him."

Mikel's face softened just a bit. "I certainly understand that. Nate," he said to the young man to his right, "run to the second-floor bathrooms, and bring back several towels please."

"Yes SIR!" Nate clicked his heels, saluted and left.

* * *

Five minutes from the Institute, Nathan checked his phone again. Almost three quarters of a battery again. Good. He unplugged it from the charger. Immediately it signaled that he had a new message. He flipped open the phone, read it, cursed, and pulled over sharply to re-read it again. It was from Brad. One of Bel's students called. In trouble. We're going to the school to get him.

"That is not good at all," Nathan muttered. No way in hell that was coincidental; his heart and head agreed on that one. He tried calling Brad. It rang four times and went to voicemail. So, Nathan sent back a text. Then he called Detective White.

"White? My phone's been dead, no battery. I charged it and just saw a text I missed from Brad. He, Bella, and Stacy went out to the Institute. Something about one of her kids in trouble. That was" - he glanced at his watch – "fifteen minutes ago. Now I can't get them at all. I think Mikel's behind it somehow."

"Hang on." White filled in the chief, who was riding shotgun. "I'm back. We're now going in hot. Chief is on the radio passing the message on to Logan about friendlies inside as possible hostages. SWAT's not on standby anymore, Nathan."

"Roger that," Nathan said. "Kick this convoy in the ass and let's get there."

* * *

Back in Wallace's office, all conversation had stopped when Brad's cell phone began to ring. He didn't dare reach for it, not with three armed men present and a fourth coming back any minute. After four rings, it stopped. Then it started to beep incessantly. Mikel raised an eyebrow.

"Means I have a new text message," Brad explained.

"Well, well, let's see it then," Mikel responded, motioning to Tommy to retrieve the cell phone as Nate returned with a stack of towels and took them over to Stacy.

Bella tried to hold Tommy to her, but he wrestled free. "Let go, you stupid bitch! I don't take orders from you. Mr. Metzger's the boss." And he strode triumphantly over and snatched up Brad's phone, marching it straight over to Mikel's outstretched hand.

"Good job, Tommy. How about we power you down for a while?" Mikel said casually. He leaned forward and typed a command into the open laptop on the desk. Tommy immediately went to the loveseat in the corner of the room and fell fast asleep.

"What... what was that?" Bella asked, eyes wide with fear.

"Sorry, my love, I forgot to mention—when I haven't been obsessing over you and I being together, I've been perfecting a mind-control serum that my father insisted on. As you can see," he indicated those in the room, "it works quite well. Took a while to perfect and the first few human test subjects were hit and miss, but I got the kinks worked out. And the brilliant part is, that nanotechnology, my angel, can be controlled, activated, and deactivated with a few computer keystrokes."

"Where is your father, Mikel?"

"Oh, I killed him," he responded nonchalantly. "When we thought you were dead, he went into my workroom and deleted everything about you off my computer. Said you were just a phase, a distraction, a tramp. That's not true. So, he had to go."

"Now, let's see who's so anxious to get a hold of our friend here," he murmured. He read the text. And turned crimson with barely repressed rage. "Nathan?" he demanded. "Is this the same Nathan you cheated on me with? That pretty boy who _stole_ you from me, Bella?"

* * *

The convoy pulled over about 300 yards from the gate. Nathan got out of his car and hustled to the front to talk to the chief, White, and Logan.

"We have a blueprint of this place?" he asked.

"Yeah," Logan said. "You missed that part in the briefing. This ain't no regular school. According to what we found it's also got sub-levels. Anybody puts those in a place like this, I would guess has enhanced security on those levels."

"Great," Nathan muttered, running his hands through his hair.

"Relax, sir," Logan said kindly. "My guys are well trained. Instead of bringing up the rear, we'll go in first, that's all. We've got accessible points on the side of the building here and here," he indicated on the blueprints. "This gives us an advantage. No reason to give them a heads-up by going through the front door."

"Okay," Nathan exhaled heavily. "Someone give me a radio. The second I hear 'all clear' I'm going in after Bella." And he went back to his car to strap on the bulletproof vest the Flagstaff agents had brought for him.

* * *

Wow. I have got to get him calmed down or we're all dead, Bella thought. Nathan, hurry the hell up and get here already!

"Mikel," she purred, walking forward slowly and placing a hand delicately on his arm, "forgive me. Please forgive me. I didn't realize you loved me. I've never met you before today, Mikel, so how could I know? Why have you waited so long to come to me?"

He gulped. She could feel him trembling from her touch.

She moved closer, gently stroking his cheek.

"Can we be alone? I really want to spend some time alone with you, Mikel. And I think it's brilliant what you've done with the serum. I'd love to know more. Can we go somewhere, just the two of us?" Bella said sweetly, gazing up at him with what she hoped to God looked like love and adoration.

He let his breath out slowly, heavily. And lowered his weapon.

Yes! She thought. Now if I can just keep him calm and preoccupied, help should be here soon.

"Bel," Stacy hissed.

Bella put her hand up to quiet her. "It's all right, Stacy," she said, gazing into Mikel's eyes. "It's okay. My new love and I are going somewhere more... private."

Then she turned and looked at Stacy and Brad. It was a look that only a close friend could have deciphered.

Roll with me here, it said. Or he'll kill us all.

"Sure," Brad managed to say convincingly. "Lovers need to be alone." And he squeezed Stacy's hand.

Bella threw a smile that said here goes nothing at them before turning her attention back to Mikel. "Please, my love," she said imploringly.

Mikel straightened his shoulders. "Let's go to my father's office and have a drink, shall we?" And he gestured toward the door. To Wallace he said, "Keep an eye on these two," then "Follow me," to the two muscled teens behind him.

"Nate, Chris, take up positions in the hallway. I don't want us to be disturbed. Understood?"

"Yes SIR!" Both boys snapped to attention.

Mikel held the door to Adolf's office open for Bella, and said, "Please, come in. There's so much I want to talk to you about." And he softly closed the door.

* * *

Nathan's phone rang. "Thomas," he snapped.

"Max here. Got a match on the prints—I was right. Metzger is Werner. And there's something else. ME says no way it was suicide. He estimates Adolf was shot from about two feet. He was murdered, somewhere else, then staged out in the desert."

"Good info, Max. Hey, we have stuff happening here. Let me let you go. I'll call you back." And he hung up the phone just as his radio crackled to life.

"Tango to Delta."

"Go Tango."

"At entry point window. Have observed four, that's zero-four individuals, crossing the main hall. Three are hostile, one is a friendly, over."

"Do you have a position, Tango?"

"Two hostiles remaining in hallway. I don't see any weapons. Third hostile matching suspect's description went with the friendly into some sort of room, north side, center of main hall."

Christ, that's got to be Bella, Nathan thought despondently as he listened.

"Any sign of the other two friendlies, Tango?"

"That's a negative, Delta."

"Roger that, Tango. Wait one."

Logan consulted his map. "The room they went into looks to be a big office, probably Adolf's."

"Any way to see inside from out here?" Nathan asked.

"Not without being seen. See that big set of windows to the left of the front door?" Logan said, pointing at the building. "That's the room they're in. No way to get eyes on that without being spotted; there's no cover we can use to get there." He keyed his radio.

"Delta to Tango."

"Go Delta."

"Can you neutralize the hostiles in the hallway?"

"Request permission to use tranquilizer darts, Delta. They're just kids."

Nathan and Logan exchanged looks. Then Logan told his team, "Tango you are clear for non-lethal, over."

"Roger that, Delta. Stand by."

The three-person assault team switched from their handguns to their tranquilizer guns.

The entry point they had found on the blueprint was a service entrance coming out into the main hall about thirty feet from their targets. The door was locked from the inside, so the team went to work on the hinges with a blowtorch to minimize noise. This accomplished, the team lead called Logan again.

"Tango to Delta."

"Go Tango."

"Door breached, team in position. Ready for diversion, over."

"Roger that, Tango, wait one."

And a fourth team member, dressed as a deliveryman, drove a flower van into the parking lot. He got out and went to retrieve a ridiculously large bouquet from the back of the van, as well as his tranquilizer gun, which he tucked into his shoulder holster under his jacket. He murmured ' _nonlethal ready, flowers being delivered'_ into the mike hidden under his uniform and above his bulletproof vest. Hearing _'you're a go, Alpha'_ from Logan in his earpieces that looked like regular headphones, he cranked up the iPod in his front pocket a little bit, grabbed the flowers, shut the van doors, then headed toward the front door of the building.

"Package on the way, Tango. Stand by."

"Roger, Delta. Standing by."

* * *

In Adolf's office, Bella was trying her best to remain calm and play her part, but she was having more and more trouble. As soon as the door was closed behind them Mikel had thrown his gun onto the loveseat, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. It repulsed her to the very core, her grandfather's murderer sticking his tongue down her throat and his hands roaming up and down her body. But she saw no other way to keep him from becoming lethal other than to play along. So, she kissed him back, although she would sooner have shot him.

And if I can just get to that gun, I'll be happy to, she told herself.

She pulled herself free from his octopus-like hands and said breathlessly, "Wow, you sure can sweep a girl off her feet. But we have the rest of our lives, my love. How about that drink?"

"I apologize, my angel," Mikel said sincerely. "I've wanted to hold you for so long that it got the better of me. What's your poison?"

"Scotch on the rocks, please." She wandered to the window and gazed toward the front gate, thinking wistfully of Nathan. She turned back toward Mikel, her mind racing with how to get out of this situation.

Mikel was grinning at her. "Not what I expected from a petite flower such as you. I think I'm going to enjoy discovering all your little secrets, Bella," he said with a sickening leer as he poured out a very healthy serving and handed it to her.

Inside, she was cringing. His touch alone was enough to make her vomit. And the idea of having sex with this man? Over my dead body, my "love", she thought disgustedly.

But outwardly, she giggled and flirted and kept up the charade.

"Hey, sweetie, tell me more about the serum," she said. "That really does sound fascinating. It must have been challenging." And while he was pouring his drink, she moved surreptitiously to the loveseat, rearranging the throw pillow so that it covered the gun. Then she wandered back in front of the window. Swirling her drink a bit, she said, "So was it difficult? How long did it take?"

Good choice of topic, she told herself. Look at him strut over here toward me to share his genius with me. At least he'll keep his hands to himself for a bit.

Meanwhile, Mikel was thinking, I can't believe my angel is here with me, kissing me, talking to me. I want it to last forever. He leaned against the desk, enjoying her attention. "Well," he said, "I actually had the idea for it when I was twelve..."

* * *

As Nathan watched the fake deliveryman prepare to make his approach, a glint of something reflecting in those big windows caught his attention. "Hand me the binoculars," he said tersely. He trained them on the windows. And there Bella was, with a drink in her hand. The sunlight was bouncing back against the liquid she was swirling. She looked terrified. Then he watched as she forced a pleasant expression onto her face, and she turned away from the window.

Hang in there, baby, he willed her silently. It's almost over.

He looked at Logan. "Can your sharpshooter take out someone in that room with the big windows?"

And Logan looked offended by the question before saying "Martinez. Come here a minute."

* * *

The deliveryman went up the steps and entered the front hall. "Delivery," he announced. He walked toward the receptionist's desk to set the flowers down. Chris, the one closest to the front door, immediately tucked his knife away into its scabbard and went to intercept the intruder. Nate, further down the hall, also came forward, stopping with his back to the service entrance.

Outside the service door, the team heard the code phrase 'rush delivery' from their counterpart talking to Chris. They silently worked the door open, snuck up behind Nate, tranquilized him, and dragged him back out. The whole thing took about thirty seconds. Chris was oblivious to all this happening sixty feet or so behind him. When the deliveryman handed him the clipboard and pen to sign for the flowers, he took them without thinking. The next thing he knew his vision was swimming and blurry; then all was dark. The deliveryman caught the slumping guard and laid him down quietly and out of sight behind the receptionist's desk. Then the team leader went quickly to the front door, giving a quick hand signal out, then disappearing again.

Logan smiled and turned to Nathan. "Two down," he announced. "But the place isn't clear yet. They're sweeping for more hostiles, and to find where the other two friendlies are. Sit tight, it shouldn't be much longer. And Martinez is in position. If our bad guy shows himself in that window, we'll be able to take him out."

* * *

"Delta to Tango."

"Go Tango."

"In hall. Voices from my left. Checking it out."

"Roger that, Tango."

The team leader went to the headmaster's office and bent down to the keyhole and listened to Stacy pleading.

"Mr. Wallace."

A glare but no answer.

"Mr. Wallace. Please." Stacy implored, tears coming to her eyes. "I've slowed the bleeding, but it won't stop. I need more towels or bandages or something. Please."

"Oh, all right," Mr. Wallace said tersely. "I'll be right back. Just so you don't try anything, though..." He unplugged his desk phone, dropped it in the floor, and stomped on it until it broke. Then he pocketed Brad's cell phone.

The team lead hustled silently from the door and took cover behind the receptionist's desk, where Chris continued his involuntary slumber. Mr. Wallace came out of his office, locked the door, and headed upstairs, the gun plainly visible in his right hand.

"Tango to Delta."

"Go Tango."

"The other friendlies locked in an office. Armed hostile just went upstairs. Extracting?"

"Roger that, Tango, and take out the hostile."

"Ten-four, Delta. Switching to lethal."

The SWAT team stayed where they were and watched Wallace come back down the stairs with towels under his left arm. He transferred the gun from his right to his left hand, pulled the key out of his right front pocket, and opened the door. As he started to enter the room, the team converged. Wallace saw movement from the corner of his eye and spun fast toward the team leader, raising and firing his gun as he did so. The shot went wide, and the echo of gunfire filled and reverberated through the main hall.

In response, he was met with two silenced rounds to the left chest. The team pushed him forward and into the room, closing the door behind them. They gave the thumbs-up sign to Stacy and Brad, then motioned for silence. Two took positions on either side of the door while the third tactical officer, who had also had training as a medic, checked Wallace for a pulse, then went to Brad and began checking his wound. The fourth radioed in as quietly as possible.

"Delta."

"Go Tango."

"Third hostile down, one to go. One of the friendlies was shot in lower leg. Doc's checking him out now."

"Roger that Tango. Hold position for now. Martinez sighting up the fourth hostile. Sit tight."

Across the hall, Mikel stopped mid-sentence when he heard the shot, and quickly went to the door, locking it. "It seems your white knight brought some friends to rescue you," he said with derision, turning back to face her.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Bella, his love, his angel, was backing away from him toward the window—and pointing his own gun at him. He could see she was terrified. She watched as slowly the mild shock faded from his face and was replaced by a smile that was pure evil.

"You're pointing my gun at me," he said conversationally, beginning to ease across the room toward her.

"Damn right I am," Bella replied sincerely. "You make my flesh crawl."

"Oh, I don't know," he said, making his voice soothing and calm. "Maybe you'll feel differently once you submit to me."

"Like hell I will," Bella answered. "You've touched me all you're going to."

He laughed. "Angel, I can see your hands shaking. Be honest. You've never even held a gun until now, have you? I really don't think you have it in you anyway." His pace toward her increased slightly. "And you will be mine, make no mistake about it. If it's by force the first few times, so be it. I find it more exciting when a woman struggles."

"I can and will shoot you if you don't stop moving," Bella said with more confidence than she felt.

"Come on, Bella, I dare you. I don't think you have the guts," he sneered, moving just a little closer now.

Her back was now pressed against the windows, and he was ten feet away and closing.

"Logan? Friendly just came into view at the window again. She backed toward it this time though. I think she's in trouble, boss," Martinez radioed. At this bit of news Nathan immediately raised his binoculars again to watch Bella.

Logan answered, "Roger. If you get a clear shot at the suspect, take it. Don't kill him unless you have to; we want him alive."

"Roger that." And Martinez watched through the scope, ready to fire.

* * *

She was out of room to move. Left or right was out of the question; no way would she get past him to the door before he got to her. She took a deep breath and tried her best to remember the little bit that Nathan had shown her so far about firing a weapon.

She raised it a little higher, and said, "Please stop. I don't want to kill you, Mikel. But I will." He paused, looking at her speculatively for a moment.

"No, dear heart, I think you're bluffing," he answered teasingly, and moved to within three feet of her. As he leaned forward and down to grab for her, he was hit by two different rounds—one from Martinez' high-powered rifle, which entered just below his right collarbone as it was intended to, and the other from a now screaming Bella, who fired blindly three times and struck him once dead center in the chest.

At the first shot, SWAT was on the move from across the hallway. They busted down the office door to find Bella holding the still-smoking gun limply at her side, tears streaming down her face. Crumpled at her feet lay Mikel.

"Tango to Delta. All clear here. Hostile down. Call for EMS."

"Roger, Tango. We're coming in."

Nathan took off toward the building at a sprint.

The SWAT team leader walked over to Bella and gently pried the gun from her hand.

"Are Stacy and Brad okay? Brad got shot," she said softly, still looking down at Mikel.

"Yes, ma'am, we know. But he's going to be just fine. Let's get you and your friends out of here, okay?" he told her kindly.

She raised her head to look at him, and he saw the mixture of relief and anger in her eyes. "Sure. One thing first." And she kicked Mikel as hard as she could in the balls.

"Now we can go," she announced. And she walked out of the building and into Nathan's arms.

# Epilogue

Nathan and Bella walked hand in hand toward the elevators to leave the hospital.

Brad's surgery to repair his shattered left knee had gone smoothly. While he had a long course of physical therapy ahead and would never be able to push too hard on it, the doctors expected pretty much a full recovery. He and Stacy planned on coming to Virginia for a visit as soon as he was able to travel comfortably.

Nate, Chris, and Tommy remembered nothing of what had happened. Bella had told the authorities onsite everything Mikel had said about the serum. Once his laptop was destroyed, the serum seemed to go dormant in its hosts, with no ill effects. The team managed to access his workrooms, recovering another computer that contained videos and detailed notes regarding his experiments. FBI techs were combing through everything else on the hard drive. But what they had already was enough to put Mikel Metzger away for at least two lifetimes.

Max had found the coded pages in Adolf's private office. He was already in route back to Langley with the documents, and to coordinate a memorial service for Manfred sometime within the next week.

Bella and Nathan also had talked with the surgeons that had worked on Mikel. Complications during surgery had put him in a coma. "Currently he's in a vegetative state, with only minimal brain activity," the neurosurgeon, Hightower, had informed them. "There's a very small chance he could regain consciousness; anything is possible. The human body has remarkable self-restoring capabilities. But it's been my experience that patients usually don't come out of that state. He's been settled into our long-term care ward on the fourth floor."

"In the event that he did wake up, what would happen?" Nathan had asked.

"In the remote chance that he regained both consciousness and an ability to have any sort of normal brain function," the doctor replied, "we would rehabilitate him, just as with any other patient, then turn him over to the authorities to stand trial."

"Fair enough, Doc," Nathan said, shaking the man's hand. "I'll be keeping in touch to check on him from time to time."

"Sure thing, Agent Thomas, call me here or at my office anytime."

And now, they were standing, waiting for the elevator doors to open.

"Are you sure you're up for the drive?" he asked her. "Because if you're not, we can ship your stuff home, and we can fly instead. Just say the word."

"I like the idea of getting to take a leisurely drive with you cross-country," Bella smiled up at him as they entered the elevator car. "Kinda romantic."

"I agree," Nathan said, pressing the ground floor button. "I just want to make sure you're comfortable, that's all."

"The thing that matters most is that I'm with you," she said, snuggling close.

They got into her truck, Nathan behind the wheel to drive the first leg. "Country or rock?" he asked, reaching to turn on the radio.

And she smiled. "Surprise me."

***Until Next Time***

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#

# BOOK OF SECRETS

# PROLOGUE

"Morning. Hey, there was a package that came for you. It's on your desk."

"Thanks." Nathan Thomas continued down the hall to his office in the BAU division. He hung his jacket on the back of his chair, then stared thoughtfully at the plain brown box in the middle of his blotter. Hmmm. No return address, no distinguishing marks on the package. The label was made out to him. _Problem is, I haven't purchased or ordered anything lately, and if I had, they would have been shipped to the house, not to work._ He wasn't expecting any case-related packages, either.

He thought for a moment before ringing the lobby. "Does anyone know if this thing went through the scanner?" he asked.

"Of course, it did. Everything does. Standard safety protocols."

"Just checking."

He hung up the phone and frowned for a moment, then shrugged on latex gloves, got his pocketknife out, and began to carefully open the package. He waded through layers of packing peanuts until he came to a six by nine-inch manila envelope. Nathan's pulse quickened a little.

_I have a bad feeling about this,_ he thought as he pulled the envelope out of the box. He turned it over carefully and used his knife to cut along the bottom seam to preserve any DNA evidence on the gummed flap. Tilting the envelope slightly to one side, he shook it a little, and some Polaroid pictures and a folded paper fell out.

Nathan's heart fell as he glanced at the photos – pictures of fifteen different young, obviously deceased women, with long dark hair and staring eyes that were once a pretty blue. Then he unfolded the paper and read it.

_"Give her back, Nathan, and it will stop._ "

CHAPTER ONE

Two days before Christmas, 2009.

Bella Amsel sat in her grandfather's favorite chair facing the fireplace, wrapped in her grandmother's robe, a solitary tear tracing down her cheek as she stared at the flames. The temperature in the house was fine; the chill that had descended in her soul was the problem.

The day had just been brutal. She had been simply overwhelmed by the number of well-wishers coming up to her to share their special memories of her grandfather. While Bella truly appreciated that Manfred was so well loved, the emotional battering it dealt her to get through first the memorial service and then the family's close friends retreating to the house to eat and reminisce had exhausted her. It seemed to last a lifetime, but finally the house was empty and quiet.

"Here, baby," Nathan said, offering her a cup. "This will help."

Bella managed a wan smile and took the cup from him. "It smells really good," she said, breathing in the steam rising. "What's in it?"

"Tea, with honey and lemon. And a dash of whiskey," Nathan said, sitting in the other armchair.

"Whiskey?"

"Yes, whiskey. Well, it's more like a generous helping than a dash. Honey, you're exhausted. I know how rough today was for you. I was thinking you'd probably want hot tea, and to soak in the tub, then get some sleep."

"How'd you know about the tub soak thing?"

"I have three sisters, remember? And growing up we all shared the upstairs bathroom. I learned early that when girls get upset, they head for a bubble bath. I also learned," he leaned forward with a smile, "that the quickest way to get into trouble with sisters is to leave the seat up in the middle of the night."

Bella laughed.

_That's better_ , he thought.

Bella took a long sip of her tea, flashing those hypnotic blue eyes at him over the rim. She swallowed, set the cup on the little side table between their chairs, and said, "The bubble bath sounds great. But," she said, standing up, "Only if you join me."

"Absolutely," Nathan replied, reaching for her hand.

When they reached the bathroom, he glanced at the old-fashioned clawfoot tub, and said, "I don't think we'll both fit in there. But if you want, I'll stay and talk to you while you soak. Your call." And she nodded.

He rubbed her shoulders as she soaked in the tub, noticed her head drooping more and more. "Bella," he said gently. No response.

"Bella," Nathan said again, just a bit louder.

"Hmm?" she managed.

"Let's get you out of the tub, and we'll get some sleep. We could both use it."

"M-hmm."

He aided her in stepping safely out onto the floor mat and wrapped a bath towel around her slender frame. "I'll be right back, okay? Let me go around and get the lights turned off."

"Okay," Bella said, yawning. "Meet you on the pillows."

Nathan went downstairs and peeked into the kitchen. _God bless those women,_ he thought, referring to Stacy and Ms. Robbins, the widow neighbor. _They put all the food away, so Bella wouldn't have to deal with it._ Stacy and Brad were staying here with Bella while in Manassas and had already gone to bed for the night; Brad's knee was acting up and he had finally had to take a Vicodin.

Nathan switched off the kitchen light and continued to make his way through the ground floor, making sure doors were locked and lights extinguished. His cell phone rang just as he was headed back up the stairs. "Thomas," he said.

"Nathan? Max. Just checking on things. How is she?"

"Exhausted, which is not surprising. It's been a hard day, for all of us."

"Agreed. Hey, I didn't want to burden her with this today, but Manfred's lawyer wants us at his office tomorrow for the reading of the will. Two-thirty."

"We'll see you there. And Max?"

"Yeah?"

"I know he was your best friend. I don't think I've taken the time to tell you yet – I am really, really sorry for your loss, man."

Silence for a bit, then, "Thanks, Nathan. See you guys tomorrow afternoon."

Nathan turned his phone off and climbed the stairs.

He paused at the bedroom door, and just watched her for a moment. She was already sleeping. He marveled again at finding the woman of his dreams, and the way it had happened. _I went to Vegas to take a break, that's all,_ he mused. _Just a little relaxation before work picked up. And I found the love of my life._ The recollection made him smile as he crossed the room.

Nathan changed into his pajamas as quietly as possible and gently slid under the covers. Bella stirred in her sleep, feeling the warmth of him next to her, and instinctively moved closer. He wrapped his arms around her and heard her sigh. Closing his eyes, he rested his head against hers and drifted into sleep.

***

"Hey Abby," Paula said as she put her purse in her locker. "What's it like tonight?"

Abby laughed. "You're kidding, right? Quiet. What else?"

"You on tomorrow?"

"Nope, actually managed to swing two days off in a row. See you Monday."

"Good night, Abby." And Paula checked her uniform one last time in the mirror before leaving the ladies' break room to head to her station. Picking up the first clipboard, she looked at Miriam, the other night nurse on duty. "Any changes anywhere?"

"Only one," Miriam replied. "New one in 404. I don't think she'll be with us long."

"How so?"

"She's pretty bad off. I just don't think she'll be here long. Sad too. She's only nineteen. Car accident."

Paula sighed. "Breaks your heart."

Miriam nodded. "I know. We'll just keep her comfortable, I guess."

"I'll start down at the other end."

"Sure thing."

Paula grabbed the first four charts and headed to the end of the hallway to room 430. She went into the first three rooms in turn and took vital signs, making notes on each patient's chart. Although her patients were comatose, Paula believed they could still hear and sense some of what was happening around them. So, she talked to them as she worked. _I believe in miracles_ she had told co-workers previously. _I know that someday, if it's meant to be, one of them will respond._ But none had yet in the three and a half years she'd been working this floor.

She finished her first three and headed toward room 425 and her favorite patient. She had a special place in her heart for this one. The first time she saw him, she had fallen hopelessly in love. Paula knew it was foolhardy, being in love with an unconscious man who might never wake up, but she couldn't help how she felt. So as much as she could, she took a little extra time with him. And she prayed that if a miracle happened on the fourth floor this holiday season, that he was the one it happened to.

But it wasn't happening tonight. His vitals remained unchanged, pupils still fixed, monitors still reflecting a bare minimum of brainwave activity. The only sound in the room besides the chirp of machines and her voice was the rasp of the respirator. She sighed as she made her notes on the chart. Then she went to his side and leaned down close to his ear. "I'll be back to check on you later," she whispered, and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

She left the room as quietly as possible, heading back to the nurse's station to drop off the completed charts and pick up the next four.

***

A knock on the door woke Nathan up. "Yes?" he called out blearily.

"Hey guys," Stacy said. "Breakfast is ready, if you're interested."

"Thanks, Stace," Bella replied. "We'll be down in a bit." And to Nathan she said, "How did you sleep?"

"Like a rock," he mumbled. "Seems like only five minutes, but it's...." he grimaced as he looked at the alarm clock, "seriously? We got eight hours? It sure doesn't feel like it."

Bella kissed him. "You'll be happier once we eat. Stacy makes the best omelets on the planet."

They headed down the stairs hand in hand. Brad was already at the table drinking coffee with Max, and Stacy was finishing up at the stove. She pointed to a plate at the end of table with her spatula. "Yours is there, Bel. Extra done, with ham and cheese."

"Extra done?" Nathan asked as he sat by Max and reached for the coffeepot.

"Not shiny. At all. To anyone else, they'd be burnt. But, that's how Bella likes them. Oh, and cooked on both sides, too, _before_ you fill it and fold it. Right, Bel?"

"Absolutely!" Bella sat and lowered her head down toward the plate, savoring the aroma.

"Bacon's on a plate in the middle, and here come the biscuits," Stacy announced, placing a towel-covered bowl on the table and taking the seat next to her husband.

For a time, the only sounds heard were the clinking of forks against plates, an occasional 'please pass', and noises of contentment. When the meal was finished, they all pitched in to help with clean up before moving to the living room.

"So, what's on tap for today?" Brad asked.

"Well, we have the will reading this afternoon. And at some point, Nathan and I need to check status on the case, make sure everything's being closed out." Max replied succinctly. He turned to Nathan and continued, "Though it may be a long, long while before any sort of trial happens. Have we heard anything on Metzger?"

"Last report said no change," Nathan said earnestly. "And personally, I'm okay with that. I want him to pay for what he did, but he's much less of a threat to anyone the way he is right now."

"What I want to know," Bella stated quietly, "is how his father knew Grandpa." And she turned a solemn gaze to Max. "I know you know the history."

Max cleared his throat. "I do."

And he related the whole story, from Manfred's experience with Adolf in the classroom to the night in the graveyard to 1989 when they missed Adolf at the Wall by about an hour.

"After that, he disappeared again," Max continued. "No clue where he was. He was on our watch lists, of course, but he never surfaced. We know now that he had at least one alias, which is why he was able to get back into Germany and out again without tipping his hand. It was blind dumb luck that Snowbird saw him; otherwise we'd never have known he came back."

"How did Mikel come into all this?" Stacy interjected.

"We believe that Adolf adopted him somewhere along the way. We're currently trying to follow a paper trail backward to a place in Brazil called Manaus; that's where Metzger Industries is based. But it's slow going. We have to ask the right folks the right questions to be able to get permission to look around down there, so we don't ruffle any feathers."

"But I thought Brazil and the U.S. have good relations," Brad pointed out.

"We do," Max said. "But we still have to tread carefully so as not to offend and cause an international incident." He paused to sip his coffee, then said, "Anyway, that's where things are right now. We may never be able to connect all the dots. But maybe we won't have to."

Bella leaned forward. "How are Tommy and Nate and Chris? Have you heard anything?"

"They are all fine, and have no recollection of anything it seems," Nathan answered. "Of course, the Institute has been closed indefinitely as a result of all this."

"That part is a real shame," Bella said wistfully. "The Institute was the only real stability some of those kids had."

"If it helps any, Bella, we've checked out the other locations that Adolf founded, and they all seem to be legitimate. They've been taken over by non-profits in their respective cities. There's even one here, down in Richmond," Max told her. "Should the tutoring bug prove too much to resist, you could still work with troubled kids. Of course, there's another option too."

Bella arched an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"Come work for me," Max said simply. "I find myself in need of someone who can teach French, Russian, and German to our students at the Academy. And you, my dear, speak all those. You're even better at them than Manfred was – he used to say so himself..." Then his face clouded for a moment, and he murmured, "God, I miss that old man."

"As do I, Uncle Max," Bella said softly, squeezing his hand. "As do I."

***

Paula crept back into room 425 in the few minutes before her shift ended, to spend a few more moments with the man she loved. She talked to him softly and stroked his cheek, hoping against hope that he would respond somehow – a blink, a shudder, something, anything. But there was nothing, just like always. Every day, for almost three weeks now. She knew it was probably futile. She sighed, told him she'd be back tomorrow, kissed his cheek once again, and left.

***

The reading of the will started off as expected; as Bella was Manfred's only living relative, she received everything except a small sum of money that Manfred left for Max – "just in case he manages to outlive me", Manfred had written.

But the old man had made a change very recently that surprised everyone. The lawyer cleared his throat, and read aloud, _"To Nathan Thomas, I leave a token of my esteem. He'll know what to do with_ it."

And the lawyer handed a small box to Nathan. Puzzled, he opened it, then smiled and showed it to Bella.

"Those are their wedding rings," she said, tears coming to her eyes. "And my grandmother's engagement ring he gave her in 1954. She used to let me wear it sometimes when I was little and played dress up." It was exquisite – a delicate silver ring, adorned with a small tear-shaped sapphire, surrounded by little diamonds.

Tucked into the box was a handwritten note. _"Bella and Nathan – I hope your love stays as magical as mine and Rose's did – Manfred."_

Nathan carefully removed the sapphire ring from its cradle and took one knee in front of Bella's chair. "Will you marry me?"

She nodded and smiled as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

***

"Hey Mr. Conner, how are you today?" Faith Thomas called out as she approached her front door. Mr. Conner was a very sweet old gentleman that lived just across the way from her.

"Doing well, dear, how are you? Got any big plans for the holidays? I have a single nephew coming into town any day now, I could hook you up, just say the word," he announced, beaming at her.

"I appreciate that, Mr. Conner, but I'm good," she laughed. "See you later. Merry Christmas!" As she slid her key into the lock, she could hear her phone ringing.

"Coming, I'm coming," Faith muttered to herself as she raced into her living room. She reached the phone short of breath. "Hello?"

"Geez, took you long enough," was the smartass reply on the other end. "Are you getting old, or what?"

"Love you too, baby brother," she said with a chuckle. "What's up?"

"Checking in to see what your plans are for New Year's Eve."

She glanced around her lonely townhouse.

"Oh, you know, the usual rager," she answered sarcastically. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Well..." Nathan paused, "Um... I was wondering if it'd be all right if I brought Bella down to meet you."

"Sure! I've been dying to meet this girl you've been going on and on about," Faith exclaimed.

"Awesome. We're gonna drive down, should be at your place by Thursday afternoon."

"Sounds like a plan. Hey, you want me to get Jandy and her brood over here, so Bella can run the gauntlet all at once?"

"Hell, yes," Nathan replied. "What about Sarah?"

"She's stuck in Cali, working through the holidays."

"Won't be the same without her," Nathan answered. "We'll have to catch her another time."

"I'm really looking forward to seeing you, little bro," Faith told him.

"Me too. Love you. Catch you later?"

"You got it. Love you too. 'Bye."

Faith smiled a moment, then dialed and waited. "Yo, big sister, you and yours have been requested to join the fun New Years' Eve..."

***

She had just gotten home from work when she noticed a man knocking repeatedly on Mr. Conner's townhouse door. "Can I help you?" she offered. The man turned, and Faith did not recognize him. He crossed the street to her vehicle. "Sorry to bother you, miss, but I am looking for Jack Conner. Have you seen him?"

"I'm sorry, I haven't lately," she replied, frowning thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I've not seen him since Monday. I just figured he was traveling again. I know he doesn't have any family locally."

"I'm an old friend of his," the man said with a warm smile and friendly green eyes, held out his hand. "Max Jones."

She shook it. "Nice to meet you."

"He and I were supposed to get together today, but I haven't been able to reach him. If you see him before I do, would you please ask him to call me?"

"Um, sure," she said. "Happy to." Then concerned, she added, "You think he's all right? He's a really sweet man."

"Yeah," Max paused, not wanting to alarm her. "I'm sure he's traveling." _Or something._ "Anyway, thanks for your help. And Happy New Year." And walked back to Jack's front door to leave a note.

Just then Faith realized she'd forgotten to swing by and get groceries for tomorrow night. _No way am I going to try shopping ON New Year's Eve. Dammit._ Sighing, Faith climbed back into her car and drove away. "Max Jones," she mused. "Interesting character. I hope Mr. Conner's all right."

***

Max worried as he went back to his car. _Not like Jack to not return calls_ , he thought. _Not like him at all. Especially when it's about a new code to crack._ He knew how much Jack loved cryptography. "Keeps me young," Jack had said once with a twinkle in his eye.

Something was not right. He could have gotten into the townhouse with no issues. Max had been extremely well trained. But that would have been overstepping, and he'd also been trained to be discreet. Sighing, he placed a call to the local police department, asked them to come perform a welfare check on one Jack Conner, waited for them to arrive.

***

Ninety minutes later, pulling onto her street with enough groceries to feed a small army, Faith was amazed at the number of red and blue lights up and down her block. She saw Max standing on the curb talking to an officer. Rushing across the street, she asked, "Mr. Jones! What's wrong?". Then hugged herself as she saw the stark, impersonal black zipped bag on its gurney being brought out of Mr. Conner's home. "Oh," she gasped. "Oh, no."

Max came over to her. "Something didn't feel right, so I called and asked the police to come check on him. I've known him twenty years, he's never not returned a call. Medical examiner said it looks like he had a heart attack sometime this morning."

Faith stammered, trying to think. "I know he had a nephew, he mentioned him once, but I don't know his name or any way to contact him."

Max patted her hand. "It's all right. I found his lawyer's number, reached out to him, he should have all the contact info to make the notifications." _And I have to say goodbye to another dear friend, and the best damn codebreaker I've ever worked with,_ he thought to himself sadly.

Unsure what else to do, to say, Faith made her goodbyes, and with a solemn heart returned to her car to carry bags into her house.

***

"You look nervous already," Nathan remarked, as they took the highway exit leading to Pantego, Texas.

"I am," Bella admitted. I'm meeting two of your three sisters. I was an only child, remember? I have no idea what to expect."

He laughed. "Well, it's noisy when we all get together, no question. Jandy and her husband Tony have two kids, God they've got to be like, nineteen and twenty now, I think?"

At Bella's puzzled glance, he said, "Jandy's the oldest, she's forty-four, then Faith, she'll be thirty-six in June, then Sarah, who just turned thirty, then me."

"And you'll be twenty-seven next summer," she exclaimed. "That's quite a gap from oldest to youngest."  
"Tell me about it," Nathan said. "And, I'm the only boy, so double spoiled." He grinned mischievously. "Every single one of them lost their damn minds when I went into law enforcement. They worry, even though it is a family tradition."

"What do they do?" Bella asked.

"Sarah's a freelance marketing consultant. Landed a huge gig out in San Francisco, but the deadlines she's dealing with means she's missing this get together. Faith is an accountant, and Jandy is a fashion designer."

"So, you and Tony get along?"

"Yep, absolutely. It was nice when he and Jandy got together. Finally had another male around to help balance things out. You'll get a kick out of him, he's funny as hell."

He drove ten minutes more, then parallel parked on a quiet side street lined with pretty trees. "Well, here we are," he announced, gesturing out her window. "And, baby, no need at all to be nervous. You're awesome, and they are going to love you." He got out, walked around and opened her door for her, then picked up their luggage in one hand and grabbed her hand in the other. And squeezed it gently.

"You ready?" he asked.

Bella smiled. "You bet."

***

As the clock at the nurse's station chimed midnight, Paula made an extra swing into room 425, crept close, lowered her face to his. "Happy New Year, baby," she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek before straightening up and quietly continuing her rounds.

_Don't go!_ Mikel ranted inside his subconscious. But it was like being encased in mist, like floating both outside and inside himself. He could hear everything, see everything. External sights and sounds penetrated downward into the abyss that surrounded him. But no matter how he tried, he couldn't move, couldn't respond, couldn't make them see that he was here, _I'm right here, dammit!_

Had Paula stayed a few more minutes more she would have seen the single tear streaking slowly down the cheek she had kissed.
