The Sixth Seal

Hannah opened her eyes. It took a moment for them to adjust to the dim light. The rough-hewn timbers of the ceiling slowly came into focus. She lifted her head up off the bed. How long had she been out she wondered?

She pushed herself up on her elbows, head still spinning faintly, and glanced out the single window. Through the curtains she could see that it was night, so at the very least she had been unconscious for the better part of a day. A small brass lamp on a nightstand next to the bed provided the room’s only light. The dim bulb did little to illuminate the plaster walls of the tiny apartment and flickered occasionally as though it was about to burn out. Her bags sat beside an oak armoire in the corner of the room next to a small writing desk.

Voices from outside the apartment door caught her attention. She sat up, doing her best not to make any noise. One of the voices seemed to be agitated, but she couldn’t make out much of the conversation.

Just as she started to get off the bed, the doorknob turned and the door opened so that she could see the back of the Doctor. Apparently he had been arguing with Lieutenant Wozniak and was still doing so. She decided it best to sit back down.

“If you will remember, Lieutenant, Doctor Goebbels himself put me in charge of this project.”

“And if you will remember, Doctor, he put me in charge of security. If you can’t handle your personnel, then it falls to me to make sure they are not a risk to this operation.” Henryk clicked his heels and turned quickly, leaving the Doctor speaking into the air.

The Doctor opened the door the rest of the way, giving it a couple of gentle taps as he stepped in. She looked up and caught the concern in his deep brown eyes. There was something fatherly about him. His salt and pepper hair, his thick glasses and his well-groomed appearance reminded her of her father. In fact, the Doctor had been more like an old family friend than a boss, and he was certainly a better man than all of the others she had come into contact with in her dealings with the German High Command.

“Hannah, dear, you had me quite worried.” He crossed the room and took her hand in his. His touch was warm, and despite his age, his hands were soft. He touched her forehead with the back of his left hand and felt her pulse with his right.

“I’m feeling much better now, Doctor. I think the electro-magnetic field must’ve gotten to me. I think the trip from Berlin drained me as well.”

He sat down next to her on the bed. “You’re still a little warm. I think you need some more rest.”

“Really, Doctor, I feel fine--”

He put up a hand. “Nonsense, dear. You take another day to rest and settle in. I still have a few more tests to run on the device before I’ll need you in the lab.”

“Can you at least tell me more about the project?”

“I’ll get you up to speed over the next few days. For now, you can look over some of my notes.” He gestured toward the writing desk. “I made some sketches of the face of the device. It’s not evident under normal lighting conditions, but there is a faint line of script on the surface. That’s mainly why I require your unique skills.”

“Maybe I should join you in the morning and take some rubbings off of the device.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He rose and crossed the room to the desk. He rifled through a stack of papers. “Just look over these and see if you can make any connections.”

She nodded her head, giving into his wishes. Maybe she could use the time to meet with her underground contact a couple of days early.

“Good. Now that’s settled, I’ll leave you to get some rest.” He walked to the door and paused before opening it. He turned to face her. She noticed he was fiddling with his ear in an odd manner, pinching the lobe between his thumb and forefinger. A thing he only seemed to do when he was nervous. “I hate to ask you, but could you please make sure you have an escort if you go out.”

“Certainly, Doctor.” She did her best to smile even though she wasn’t very happy about the idea.

“I know it’s a bother, but the Lieutenant is very strict about security, and well, the security aspect is his show after all. There is a curfew in place now too, but you should be fine with an escort and your I.D. By the way, there’s a washroom at the end of the hall and a kitchen downstairs.” He opened the door. “This was a girls school at one time. Just make yourself at home.”

When she nodded again, he smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him.

She waited a while before she ventured out of her apartment and into the hall. Her door let out onto a balcony that overlooked the building’s foyer. If she leaned over the railing a bit, she could see through the leaded glass windows of the entryway and out to the street beyond. The light of the lampposts silhouetted a couple of soldiers out on night patrol.

Guess I won’t be going out the front door. I’ll have to find another way out.

After taking a moment to pat her hair back in place and tuck her blouse into her skirt, she made her way down the staircase. The intricate detail of the banisters and the expensive marble in the foyer belied the relatively simple appointments of her apartment. Perhaps the SS had already stripped everything of value from the upper floor.

How long will it take them to pillage the rest of this beautiful country?

She paused at the front entry and watched the two soldiers through the window. They were smoking and talking.

They’re just kids, teenagers.

Beyond them she could see military trucks coming up the street and turning toward the Capitole. She hoped they weren’t bolstering security around the book.

A doorway off the foyer opened into a sitting room. She peeked in the room, and when she saw that nobody was inside, she ventured in. The SS hadn’t gutted the room yet. It still held several things of obvious value. A silver tea service sat on a low table between a pair of delicate side chairs. She ran her hand over the back of one of the chairs. Though only a replica, she marveled at the fine details. She hadn’t sat in such a chair since the reign of Louis XV. She always thought that the French people had poured all of their determination and love into these exquisite pieces to escape the madness of the time.

I thought I was mad then too.

The portraits on the walls appeared to be those of the former masters and head mistresses that ran the school. Their stern faces stared down at her with disapproving glares. She moved through the room to a door at the back.

She opened it and stood in the doorway, looking across to another door with a glass inlay that provided a view onto the alley behind the building. She crossed the distance and tried the doorknob.

“Miss.”

A young soldier sat at a table in the kitchen, with a perfect view of her and the door.

She placed her hand over her heart and took a step back. “I’m sorry, you startled me.”

The young man stood and pulled out a chair. “Please forgive me. Why don’t you join me? Have you eaten?”

She shook her head and took the proffered seat. The young man sat down across from her, narrowing his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She brushed some stray hairs from her face and avoided the young man’s gaze. “I was just going to step out for some fresh air.”

“No trouble, Miss Klein, I could use the company anyway.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I’m the house sentry, Miss. Lieutenant Wozniak himself assigned me to keep an eye on the residents here.” He took a few slices of cheese and meat from a platter and placed them on a plate and slid it in front of her.

“Thank you.” She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, but after seeing the food, her stomach let her know it had been a while. She took a quick bite of cheese. “How many residents are in this building?”

“Just you and a couple of other people working on the project, and myself of course.”

“So if I need to leave the building, would you be the one to talk to?” She did her best to smile.

“Well, yes, but I’m afraid there’s a curfew in place. I can’t allow anyone to leave until morning.” He cut a piece of bread from a large loaf and handed it to her. “I hope you understand.”

“Certainly.” She accepted the bread and wrapped it in a napkin with the rest of her food. “If you’ll excuse me...”

“Niklas.” He stood and helped her with her chair.

“Please excuse me, Niklas. It’s been a long day. I think I’ll retire to my room.”

“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything.”

She left him alone in the kitchen and quickly made her way back upstairs.

Once in her room, she devoured the bread and cheese and debated her next move. She paused at the window.

Wher there’s a will, there’s a way.

She unpacked her bags and traded her skirt and jacket for a pair of wool trousers and a dark turtleneck sweater. She pinned her hair up and tucked the rest under a black beret. The leather ankle boots she had slipped into weren’t going to help much on the window ledge, but they would be useful if she found herself ducking down by the river’s edge for cover.

The window groaned and creaked in protest as she slid it upward in the frame. Her window looked out onto the north end of the building and gave her the slightest view of the majestic Garonne cutting a path through the city. She would be open to detection until she got to the bottom, but from there it was just a matter of several steps to conceal herself amongst the shadows of the alley behind the building.

Slipping herself over the windowsill, she felt with her foot for the narrow ledge that jutted out from the first floor. When she felt sure of her footing, she eased her way toward the back of the building, trading hand over hand until she came to the next window. She steadied herself, and then threw her left hand out to the other sill. Her hand grasped the rough wood of the frame making her wish she had worn gloves. She kept her body pressed close to the wall and continued until she reached the edge of the wall.

If someone came around the side of the building, she would be spotted instantly, and despite her status on the project, there would be no explaining her actions. She paused briefly to listen for any signs of activity, then she slid her hands down from the windowsill and into the grooves in the brickwork. Her shoulders and chest tensed as she moved her body further from the wall and crouched down on the narrow ledge.

The ledge wasn’t wide enough to allow an easy descent. She would have to keep one hand on the bricks while she moved the other to the ledge beneath her feet. The movement put a tremendous strain on her upper arm, but she managed to get a firm grip on the ledge. Then she threw her legs out over the edge and caught the ledge with her other hand. Unfortunately, the momentum caused her legs to swing back into the building, knocking out a tiny pane of glass in one of the first-floor windows.

There was no time left to be cautious; she could hear footfalls from the front of the building. Hannah pushed off the wall and dropped the remaining distance to the ground below. She landed hard on her right ankle and fell to the sidewalk. The sound of footsteps and voices grew closer.

She got up quickly, hobbled to the edge of the building and slid around the corner. Her ankle throbbed, but thanks to the stiff boots, she was certain it wasn’t broken. She pressed herself into a dark doorway and held her breath. A beam of light flickered on the fence across from her, scaring a cat and sending it scurrying down the alley. She could see the silhouette of two guards.

“It’s just a damned cat,” said one, turning off his flashlight.

“What about the broken glass?” asked the other.

Confident the shadows would hide her escape, she skirted the edge of the building and walked toward an opening in the fence. She pulled herself over a low gate into a small courtyard. She caught a glimpse of the cat in the narrow gap between the two houses in front of her.

With a bit of effort, she pressed herself into the small space and sidled toward the front of the houses, her sweater snagging and catching on the rough surfaces. When she made it to the other side, she crouched down and sat with her back up against the wall. The street in front of her edged the river; the riverbank would provide adequate cover until she got to the church.

She sat in silence for a little longer waiting for her heart to settle, listening for sounds of the soldiers. They had either given up, or they were searching somewhere else. She looked down both ends of the street. There was no sign of activity. She could see the cross above the church across the river.

The moon cast a bright light on the surface of the water. She considered swimming across. The church was just on the other side, but the opposing bank was incredibly steep.

A quarter of a mile up the river she could see the dark span of a bridge. It would add time to her trip, but guaranteed a safe, and far drier arrival.

She darted across the street and dropped down on all fours, crawling over the edge to the riverbank. The steep incline of the bank made walking upright impossible. She took a moment to find her footing and then leaned into the damp ground, using her hands to keep her balance.

By the time she reached the bridge, every step brought pain. She rotated her ankle. It felt tight inside her boot. Running would be difficult for any length of time, she had to get as close as possible to the church before chancing exposure.

A small ledge jutted out from the base of the wall and ran the length of the bridge. In a crouched position, she could navigate the entire span undetected, but it would be murder on her ankle.

It’s just a little pain, Hannah, pull yourself together. It’s most certainly better than the alternative.

She pulled herself up on the ledge and sidled across, keeping as much of her weight on her good ankle as possible. The Catholic Church, with its ornate façade, came into greater focus with each painful step. There it stood like an oak among poplars, the Basilica of Saint Sernin. The Bishop would put her in contact with a leader in a local branch of the French resistance. She didn’t like to rely on outsiders, but she had little choice in the matter. There was no way she could allow the Nazi’s to keep the book.

Headlights flashed above her head. She froze. The growl of a diesel engine rumbled across the bridge followed by the unmistakable sound of a Citroen.

The Gestapo is out in full force tonight. I hope they’re not looking for me.

She waited for them to cross the bridge before she resumed her progress to the other side. Keeping herself in the shadows of the bridge, she continued her resolute pace until she was several yards from the bank. Climbing over the bridge and onto the street was too risky. It would leave her exposed for too long. Her only option was to drop down near the top of the bank and crawl to street level. Gripping the stone ledge, she hung from the bridge, trying to scope out the best place to land. She swung her body back and forth and finally released. She landed on her good leg, but instantly began sliding down the steep incline.

She reached out and caught a tuft of grass. She could feel it tearing and pulling, but she managed to get her other hand on the edge of the railing that lined the street before it gave way. Slowly, she pushed her body up the bank with the tips of her toes, ignoring the pain in her ankle.

The church sat between a pair of buildings that might have been apartments or private offices. The arched stone entry of the church provided a bit of cover, but she would not be entirely hidden. Not until she was on the other side of the church’s massive green wooden doors could she let her guard down.

She closed her eyes and focused her breathing. She willed herself to ignore the pain and raced across the street. Taking the steps two at a time, she reached the doors in a matter of seconds. She pulled on the wrought iron handles.

The door remained firmly in place.

Locked? Of course they are.

She pounded on the doors.

Come on, come on. Let me in.

The sounds of a vehicle on the next street were getting closer. It was only a matter of time before they rounded the corner. A scraping sound brought her attention back to the door. A narrow slat of wood slid back, revealing a pair of dark eyes.

“What is it my child?” The voice was deep, but wavered a bit. He glanced at the street.

“Please let me in, Your Grace.”

“There is a curfew, child. I’m not allowed to open these doors at night.” The wooden slat slid back into place.

She could hear his muffled voice from the other side of the door.

“Seek refuge elsewhere.”

“Please, Your Grace.” She pounded on the door again just as a black Citroen rounded the corner. “The four horsemen of the apocalypse are upon us.”