Quest for the Secret Keeper (28 page)

As Carl worked in silence, Ian watched him for any signs of aggression or anger. The air around Carl shimmered while he labored, and beads of sweat formed along his brow and ran down the sides of his face, but he worked diligently and quickly, moving through the pieces one at a time and setting to the side each new round ball of gold or silver and set of precious stones.

After ten minutes, Carl was halfway through the chess set when the shimmering air about him winked out, and instead of melting the metal around the rook in his hand, he regarded it thoughtfully, almost … lovingly. “Carl,” Ian said, worried that he’d allowed his friend to work with the pieces for too long without a break.

“Yes, Ian?” Carl said easily.

“You all right?”

“Fine,” Carl said, but when he turned his eyes to Ian and smiled, a chill ran right down Ian’s spine. It was an evil smile.

“Why don’t you come away from the pieces for a bit?”
Ian suggested, careful to keep his voice even. “We could go outside and get a bit of fresh air.”

“No,” said Carl. “I’d rather not.”

Ian’s heart beat faster. He took a few steps in Carl’s direction, and that was when his best friend stood up, removing the sword from his belt to hold out defensively in front of him. “Carl!” Ian said sternly. “Put that away!”

“Oh, I don’t think I will, Ian. And I don’t think I’ll give you this chess set after all. I think I’d like to keep it.”

And then Carl did something Ian could hardly believe. His best friend lunged at him, and if the lid of the box hadn’t been in Carl’s way and caught his foot, causing him to stumble, Ian would have been run right through with the bronze sword.

Ian tackled him and jerked the sword free. After pulling Carl up roughly by the shoulders, he gripped him around the middle and lifted him off his feet.

Meanwhile, Carl thrashed and squirmed and hit him as hard as he could. Ian took an awful blow from Carl’s elbow but somehow managed to maneuver him to the back door. He yanked it open quickly and shoved Carl out the door, then pulled a chair underneath the handle. He hurried back to the dining room, scooped all the melted metal and gemstones into his pockets, and dashed to the kitchen to find something to cover his hands with.

While he was looking, the pounding on the door subsided, and he heard the change in the sound of Carl’s voice, calling to him that he was terribly sorry. He didn’t know what had come over him.

Ian paid him no attention, focusing on cleaning up the mess and hurrying out of the home as quickly as possible.

He finally opened a drawer and found a pair of oven mitts. He used these to gingerly gather up the remaining chess pieces scattered about the floor where they’d fallen when he’d tackled Carl, and deposited them back in the box, then slammed the lid.

Before setting the box back into the credenza, Ian left the room to avoid falling under the Gorgonite’s spell, and used his time to find some clothing for Iyoclease to wear.

He managed to find Dieter Van Schuft’s bedroom on the first try, and made his way to the wardrobe. When he pulled it open, he discovered it filled with black SS uniforms. He thought that might be as good a disguise as any, so he selected a uniform from the back, reasoning that if Van Schuft could tell his uniforms apart, he might not miss the one at the back. He draped the hanger over his arm, then had to rummage around for an extra hat. He managed to locate one on a shelf at the top of the wardrobe.

Ian was about to leave the bedroom when he considered that Mr. Goodwyn and Mistress Adria might not take to the idea of Iyoclease wearing the uniform, so just in case, he added a wool sweater and a pair of trousers he found in the bureau to the pile.

He then hastily moved out of the bedroom, pausing in the dining room to tuck the box back into the credenza and pick up Carl’s sword before hurrying out of the house.

Carl was sitting on the half wall when he came out. “Ian, I—” Carl began.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ian said, handing over a few clothes and half his bounty to Carl.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Carl told him anyway, his face a mask of shame.

“I shouldn’t have let you work on the chess pieces for so long,” Ian told him. “I’m more to blame than you are.”

For his part, Carl continued to stare guiltily at Ian. To show him that he still trusted him, Ian handed Carl back his sword and said, “Let’s be off, then, shall we?”

Carl smiled gratefully and shifted the hanger with the uniform to his other hand so that he could take the sword. Something plopped to the ground, and Carl eyed it curiously. “Look,” he said, bending over to pick up the shiny object.

“It’s a whistle,” Ian said. He wondered what on earth an SS officer would need a whistle for.

Carl put it to his lips and blew very lightly but no sound came out. He pulled it slightly away and stared at it curiously, then blew on it again, more vigorously, yet no sound could be heard. “It’s broken,” he said.

“Yes, well, bring it,” Ian told him, motioning for them to be off. “I’m not going back inside to hang it up again.”

Carl shrugged, putting the chain around his neck. “Maybe it’ll be a good-luck charm,” he said cheerfully. And with that, the pair set off.

D
ieter Van Schuft returned late that afternoon to his chalet, turning the key and entering his home with a tired sigh. For a moment he leaned against the door and closed his eyes, relishing the privacy and solitude. For once he could come into his residence without having to guard his thoughts against his son’s probing mind. The relief he felt, however, was tinged with just a bit of guilt.

Wolfie had resisted the idea of the local boarding school ever since his mother’s death, and Dieter had allowed him to stay at home all of the previous year, but the boy had been coddled for far too long, Dieter determined. It was time for him to step up like a good little soldier.

The situation would work out rather well, Dieter thought. Wolfie would need to be on his best behavior and avoid his little tricks if he was to get along with the rest of the boys. Just before admitting his son, Dieter had taken Wolfie to a facility just outside Berlin to show him exactly what the Third Reich was doing with those citizens it
deemed not up to German standards. He remembered the fear in Wolfie’s eyes and knew he’d be a good boy. He’d only pulled that trick with the priest that morning out of desperation, Dieter reasoned.

With a weary sigh, he pushed away from the door and walked through the halls of his beautiful country home. He smiled, realizing he could finally hire a few servants to take care of him while he was posted there. With Wolfie about, Dieter had worried that he’d use his mind tricks on the servants to get his way and one of them was bound to notice the odd little boy with the peculiar ability.

But now that Wolfie was at the boarding school, Dieter could hire a housekeeper and a cook. He planned to hold interviews the moment his schedule allowed him.

Dieter set his attaché on the dining room table and opened it. There was so much to do before the Führer’s visit. Dieter was in charge of the festivities, and he was nearly overwhelmed with details.

Selecting several folders from his attaché, he turned to walk into the kitchen but stepped on something, causing it to crunch under his shoe. Dieter scowled, bending down to retrieve the object, thinking it was one of Wolfie’s figurines. But as he held it up, he was so stunned he dropped it.

It fell to the floor with a loud clunk. Dieter hurried to pick it up again. “What is this?” he cried, recognizing the small pawn from the chess set hidden away in the credenza. Setting his folders back on the table, Dieter rushed over to the sideboard and immediately saw that the corner of the felt covering his silver was sticking out of the drawer.

Pulling it open violently and rattling the silver, he reached to the back and took out the felt-covered box. When he had it open, he sucked in a breath and felt nearly overcome with alarm.
“Wolfie, what have you done?!”
Dieter shouted.

And Dieter knew, without a doubt, that his son had destroyed the pieces and taken the gold, silver, and gems. He assumed his son would attempt to sell the bounty to run away from the boarding school.

Dieter was furious beyond reason. His eye caught sight of the oven mitts on top of the sideboard and he knew how Dieter had pried away the metal and gems, leaving only the horrible black rock.

If his master ever returned and discovered the ruined chess pieces, both he and Wolfie would pay with their lives. Dieter blinked rapidly and with mounting panic. What to do?
What to do?

Suddenly, there was an urgent knock on the door. Dieter jumped and slammed the lid, then shoved the box back into the credenza. He stood, absently stuffing the pawn into his coat pocket, and hurried to the door.

“Heil Hitler!” said the man on his doorstep.

Dieter returned the salute, albeit not quite as enthusiastically. “Herr Bauer,” he said impatiently. “What is it?”

The junior squad leader lowered his arm. “Sir, your presence is required by Oberführer Jager.”

Dieter stared at the lower-ranking man, not quite understanding him. “Oberführer Jager?” he repeated. “But he is in Berlin.”

“No, sir!” Bauer insisted. “He has come to inspect the preparations for the Führer’s visit and to ensure that they are coming along according to schedule. He has just arrived by train, in fact, and ordered me to bring you to him immediately.”

Dieter’s lips pressed together in a thin line. The Oberführer was an overbearing brute of a man, whom Dieter privately detested. He would no doubt keep Dieter up late into the night poring over every detail and Dieter had bigger things to worry about.

Still, there was no way out of the command and he would have to oblige the Oberführer and deal with Wolfie later.

“Very well,” Dieter said with a weary sigh. “Just let me get my hat and I’ll be along.”

Dieter closed the door in Bauer’s face and moved to the dining room again to retrieve his hat and his attaché. He collected them before hurrying back out the door, completely forgetting the dark pawn in his pocket.

L
ater that night the five from the portal were tucked away in an inn on the outskirts of the town they’d learned was called Berchtesgaden, which sat in a valley at the base of the huge mountain range.

Perry had taken a rather keen interest in the town, and when they learned that the Führer himself would be arriving within a week’s time to celebrate his victory in France, Ian’s schoolmaster had appeared oddly pleased.

Perry’s behavior overall was a bit odd, Ian thought. He’d leapt at the chance to don the SS uniform that Ian and Carl had brought back with them, leaving the trousers and sweater for Iyoclease.

The Phoenician soldier looked uncomfortable in his new clothes, but he’d voiced no complaint.

From the moment they’d settled into their rooms at the inn, Adria and Carl had worked furiously all afternoon to turn the lumps of gold and silver into antique-looking coins. “These were used in the last century,” Adria told
them when she’d completed the engraving on the first coin and showed it to Carl to copy.

Carl was a very good artist in his own right, and using her tools, he managed to create a duplicate with a bit of effort and careful attention.

Ian had watched the pair with wonder, amazed at their ability to turn any bit of metal into something as pliable as wet clay.

Carl’s abilities were very advanced, according to Adria. “He has astonishing skill and ability for one so new to the talent of Metal Master. Laodamia would be most pleased.”

Carl beamed. “It’s easy,” he said. “I just think of softening the metal and it happens.”

Adria nodded knowingly. “You are quite the artisan too,” she said, pointing to his growing stack of coins.

“How many more should we make?” he asked.

“A few,” she told him. “And then you and I will have some fun with the silver.”

Ian wasn’t sure what she meant, but after a time, when all the gold balls had been transformed, Adria took up a small wooden rolling pin and began to smooth out the silver pieces one by one, much like Madame Dimbleby would roll out some dough for a pie crust. Before long, Adria had six flat rectangles, and with a wooden knife she made the edges of the rectangles clean and exactly the same size.

“You’re making one of your boxes!” Ian said.

Adria smiled at him but said nothing as she continued with her project.

While she was crafting the feet, Perry and Iyoclease
came into the room with a large sack of delicious-smelling pastries filled with meat and potatoes.

After handing them out to everyone, Perry sat down in a nearby chair and stared thoughtfully out the window at the mountain.

Ian got up and moved over to talk quietly with him. “Mr. Goodwyn?” he said.

Without looking away from the window, Perry replied, “Did you know the Führer has a chalet at the top of that peak? It’s a grand place, I hear, nicknamed the Eagle’s Nest.”

Ian squinted out the window. He could just make out what looked to be a roof on a summit that seemed impossibly high up. “How does anyone get up there?” he asked.

“There’s a lift,” Perry told him. “The chalet was presented to that despicable fellow on his fiftieth birthday. I hear he’s afraid of heights too.”

Perry’s voice had an odd quality about it, and Ian didn’t know if he liked the tone. He was about to say something when Adria spoke from her place at the table. Ian noticed she was letting Carl work on making hinges for the lid of the box. “What is your plan for tomorrow, Perry?”

“I will take the boys to the school and enroll them as my sons. This uniform should prevent too many unnecessary questions. After all, no one questions the SS.” Perry laughed as if he’d just said something funny, but Ian saw no humor in it.

“And after?” Adria asked, staring pointedly at Ian.

Ian was a bit caught off guard but said, “Carl and I will
find Wolfie Van Schuft and somehow get him to come with us to the portal on the bluff.”

Adria nodded. “Very good. But you should be very careful with this boy, Ian. He appears to be a talented Thinker, and Thinkers are very clever Oracles indeed. They can be manipulative and are very often dubious. The best of them can easily read thoughts and influence decisions. If you and Carl don’t hide your intentions well, Wolfie will have you in the palm of his hand before you even know what’s happened.”