The Sixth Seal

Hannah removed her gloves and tucked them into her coat pocket.

“Please take a seat. I’m Lieutenant Wozniak, but you may call me Henryk.” The slender officer pulled out a chair from a formidable looking table and gestured for her to sit.

She nodded and took a seat. A single file folder was open on the table. Henryk sat in the chair opposite her and began leafing through the papers inside, occasionally pausing to review the contents of a particular sheet. His brows would furrow then slacken as his eyes flitted from page to page.

She cleared her throat and the officer looked up at her. She tightened under his gaze.

“This shouldn’t take long, Miss Klein. It is Miss Klein is it not? You are not married?”

“It is. I’m afraid the university left me no time for matters of the heart.” She made a nervous chortle.

“Indeed.” He obviously didn’t share her amusement. He looked back down at the file. “It says here that you are originally from Berlin, but that your family moved to Sweden before you graduated from university?”

“Yes, my father accepted a position with an engineering firm in Sweden.”

He made a note in the file. “Do you have any siblings?”

“My file should say as much, Lieutenant.” She met the officer’s gaze.

“Ms. Klein, I’m sure that all of this seems like a nuisance to you, but I assure you that my thoroughness here is vital to the security of this project. Our enemies would do anything to hamper our efforts.” He folded his hands over the top of the file and stared into her eyes.

“I apologize Lieutenant, it’s just that I’ve already had a very long day. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“So...”

“I beg your pardon?” she said.

He looked at her expectantly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, yes I have a brother, Andrew. His name is Andrew.”

“Just a brother?”

“Yes.” She wished he would move on to questions about her time at the university. There wasn’t any reason for her to tell lies about her years there. She spent most of them studying and researching. Of course some of her research involved tracing the whereabouts of the book, but that was easily concealed by her major in antiquities.

“Have you seen your family since they left for Sweden?”

“No, but we have exchanged letters and the occasional phone call.” She shifted in her chair.

“That must be rather difficult. Don’t you feel like you’re all alone?”

“It is difficult, but I’ve made a few friends and my work keeps me busy.”

“Why didn’t you go to Sweden with the rest of your family?”

“I was already in the middle of my studies and my father felt that it would be foolish to leave.”

“That’s sensible.” He sat back in his chair and tapped the table absently. “Then why didn’t you join your family in Sweden after graduation?”

She cleared her throat. Could he tell how nervous he made her? “That was my initial intention before I became involved with the antiquities program. Once I was accepted as a research assistant it became apparent that my place was in Germany.”

“And now in France?”

“Yes, and now in France.” Her pulse began to race. Did he believe her?

“Very good.” He nodded. “That is all of the questions I have for you for the time being. I just have some guidelines and regulations that I must go over with you before you are dismissed.”

She felt the tension leave her body. She had prepared herself for much more intensive questioning, but this had been relatively easy. Maybe a little too easy.

“In accordance with security directives, all personnel are to be housed in dormitories on the premises. Since there are none available in this building, you will be assigned to an apartment nearby.” He looked up at her as if waiting for affirmation.

She nodded.

“Also, you have been assigned a security ID. You will need to present it to any security officer that asks you for it. Failure to do so will not be taken lightly.” Again he paused.

“I understand.”

“Very good. Lastly, no one is allowed to leave the facility for any reason without an escort.”

“An escort? Why? I thought the Vichy secured this region before the occupation.”

“It is as secure as possible, but remember we are still at war and therefore must take all necessary precautions.”

She nodded. There certainly wasn’t any point in arguing the matter with an SS officer. She would just have to find a way to circumvent their rules.

“Here is your security badge, Miss Klein. Please wear it at all times.” He handed her the badge. “You are dismissed. I believe Doctor Altman is waiting for you.”

She pushed her chair back from the table and stood. She paused, looking down at Henryk who was busy making notes in her file.

“Is there something else, Miss Klein?”

Most of these bastards insisted on throwing out a ‘Heil Hitler’ or some other such ridiculous adulation for the Fuhrer, which she would always be obliged to affirm.

“Oh, no sir. I’ll just be leaving now.”

“Very good,” he said and went back to his writing.

Once on the other side of the door, Hannah let out a deep breath. She stared up at the beautiful frescoes on the arched ceilings of the Capitole de Toulouse. The idyllic figures caught up in their own concerns paid no heed to the violation of their tranquil home by the Nazis. She was relieved to see that the bastards hadn’t decided to cover the walls with swastikas atop massive swaths of garish red paint. As it was, their insidious banners and flags hung at the end of every hall.

A wave of nausea washed over her. Her first thought was that her nerves were getting the better of her, but something deeper inside told her otherwise. She straightened herself up and dabbed at her forehead with a laced handkerchief, and prepared herself to see the doctor. She tucked a wayward strand of her shoulder length auburn hair back into place, and smoothed the front of her gray wool suit that was just a step away from being a uniform. The sound of her heels clicking on the ornate marble tiles echoed in the empty hallway as she made her way toward the laboratory.

There it was again, the familiar tug at her gut. She knew the book was close, but she hadn’t felt its pull in quite some time. If her estimates were correct, the book was nearby. She slowed her pace and leaned against the wall as the feeling grew stronger. In her mind she recalled the last time she had seen it. Her name had been Joan d’Arc and everyone insisted on calling her the Maid of Orleans, until they burned her at the stake. She had the last laugh though. She buried the book underneath a sanctuary on her way to Patay, and to her knowledge, it hadn’t been found until recently. All of her investigation and research led her to believe the Nazis now had it in their possession, but where?

Again a faint tug. She paused, pushed out with her mind, seeking, reciting. Was that a faint response? There was no time to try again. The doctor would be waiting for her. She had been summoned to assist with a top-secret project. Her knowledge of ancient languages was considered vital to its success. He had barely given her time to pack. In fact, the SS officer he sent to collect her had largely done her packing for her.

She regained her composure and rounded the corner. At the entrance to the great hall, stood two more of the SS’s finest. With its vaulted ceilings and intricate woodwork, the hall had once been used for marriage ceremonies and grand celebrations. She sighed at the sight of a corrugated metal wall and secure door that dissected the space.

I don’t suppose the bastards were careful not to destroy the ceiling when they installed that stupid thing.

She glanced up. Cracks spread out like spider webs over a ten-foot area of the ceiling just in front of the wall.

Bastards.

One of the men stepped forward, but Hannah displayed her badge before he could say anything.

Without a word, he opened the door and held it for her, uttering a ‘Heil Hitler’ as she passed.

She nodded, but offered no reply.

The room was immense. Walking into it reminded her of stepping out of the vestibule at the train station and onto the platform. All of the original furnishings had been removed, replaced by a wall of equipment surrounding a laboratory table in the center of the room. A large metal box sat on the table surrounded by what looked like four large loudspeakers on stands. Hannah felt a slight vibration in the room and her ears began to ring. She caught sight of the doctor waving at her from across the room. He stood near one of the loudspeakers. As she closed the distance between them, a stabbing pain pierced her stomach and sent her doubling over to the floor.

Doctor Altman rushed to her side. “Hannah, are you alright?” He knelt down and placed her arm over his shoulder. He helped her to a metal folding chair at the edge of the room.

“I’m fine, Doctor.” She slumped forward in the chair, placing her hands on the back of her neck. “Just feeling a little nauseous.”

“I’m sorry. I should have turned off the electromagnetic transmitters before you came in. I’m used to them myself, but they may be affecting you.”

She watched the doctor cross the room to the loudspeaker looking devices, shutting off each in turn. The humming and vibration receded until finally it stopped completely. Her ears were still ringing when she felt another tug at her stomach; only this one was unmistakable. It was the book. The damn bastards had found it and it was in this very room, but how had she not felt a stronger presence?

It must be the electromagnetic devices. But why would they use them? Do they know I am searching for the book?

Another wave hit her hard as though the book was making up for lost time and sending out distress signals. She could hear its call now. It rose from the faintest note to a bellowing crescendo inside her skull.

‘Claim me protector. Fulfill your birthright and gather the seven unto me.’

Its presence was formidable. She would forsake all others for it despite that at every utterance the mighty book nearly unmade her, nearly ripped her soul in two. She had been away from it far too long.

‘Take up arms against the seekers.’

Her head was on fire and the pressure on her skull was unbearable. Her vision blurred and she began to rock back and forth. She was vaguely aware of the doctor by her side and his attempts to rouse her out of her delirium. She looked up at him and watched his mouth move, unable to make sense of his words.

Again, the book sent a wave of energy through her being. The commands washed over her, wave after wave until she could take it no longer. She slipped off the chair and landed on the cold, smooth marble.

She rolled on to her back and stared up at the ceiling.

The French sure know how to make beautiful buildings.

The room grew hazy and she surrendered to the darkness.