The Sixth Seal

It was dark. A single lantern sat in the center of the table and there were no windows. Two men sat on either side of Jacques. The floor was concrete and the walls were brick. The space felt more like an alley than a room.

Jacques stood up and motioned for her to take a seat next to a burly man in a green cap two sizes too small for his head. “Have a seat, Ms. Klein. Let’s talk and get to know each other better.”

She took the proffered seat.

The burly man thrust his hand out and removed his cap with the other. “Hello, Miss. The name’s Vincent.”

She accepted his hand. It swallowed hers up, but despite the size it was gentle, comforting. “Pleasure to meet you, Vincent. Hannah Klein.”

Jacques interrupted. “Vincent does most of our heavy lifting. Paul here is our runner.” He gestured toward the waifish man sitting across from her.

“How do you do?” Paul didn’t offer his hand. He only nodded, studying her all the while. His eyes were dark and keen like a raven.

Jacques sat back down at the head of the table. “So, Miss Klein, what is it you want of our modest operation?”

“First, I’d like to know if you’ve heard from the Bishop recently.” She studied his face. She anticipated a more sorrowful expression than she received.

Jacques smiled. “The Bishop is well.”

She relaxed her posture and let out a little sigh. “I was so worried about him. I was certain the Nazis had interrogated him after they discovered me outside the Sanctuary.”

He rested his hands on the table. “He did mention a conversation he’d had with a Lieutenant...what was his name?”

“Wozniak?” she offered.

He nodded. “Yes, that was it. Wozniak. Anyway, the Bishop said at first he thought his cover was blown, but then something odd happened.”

She inched forward in her chair. “Yes?”

“Well, he’d been questioned pretty thoroughly by the Lieutenant, then out of the blue the man dropped the line of questioning entirely.” He rubbed his chin. “Then he said the man asked him about you.”

“About me?”

He seemed to pick up on her concern. “The Bishop didn’t think this Wozniak fellow was worried about your loyalties, rather he had a different interest in you.”

“Interested in me how?”

“It sounds an odd sort of thing for a Nazi to ask a Bishop, but he asked if he thought you would be interested in an officer such as himself.” Jacques’ eyes met hers.

“Romantically?”

“That’s the impression the Bishop got.” He leaned back in his chair. “Kind of odd don’t you think?”

“I’m afraid it might be worse than the Bishop feared. I think the Lieutenant plans to hold my meeting with the Bishop over my head as leverage.” She bit her bottom lip and then stopped when she noticed Jacques looking at her.

“Leverage for what, Miss?” Vincent interrupted.

“Something of which a lady does not speak.” She patted his hand. Vincent blushed.

“Perhaps we could arrange an accident for this Lieutenant. What do you think, boss?” Vincent looked to Jacques.

Jacques seemed to be considering the matter when she interjected. “I don’t want any of you to do anything that would jeopardize your operation. I can take care of myself.”

Jacques leaned forward. “Then what do you need us for, Miss Klein?”

“It’s all a bit hard to believe I’m afraid, but I assure you that what I’m about to tell you is true.” All of the men edged closer to the table. “I’m sure the Bishop told you, I’m Jewish, but I’ve managed to pass as German and attain a position with an archaeological detachment assigned to the SS. I work for Doctor Altman in antiquities.”

“Why would the SS be interested in antiquities? Unless of course they plan to sell off France’s treasures to fund their efforts.” He sneered.

“Normally you would be correct in your assessment, but in this case there is more to it. The Nazis have uncovered a very powerful...artifact. One, which could unleash great destruction if they learn how to master it.” She looked directly at Jacques.

“What kind of artifact?” asked Paul, his careful eyes studying her face.

“It’s rather difficult to explain.”

Jacques cleared his throat. “Try anyway.”

“Well, it’s sort of like a book. It is a book, but not like one you’ve ever seen before.”

Paul interrupted her. “Well, which is it? Is it a book, or isn’t it?” He narrowed his eyes and she shifted under the little man’s gaze.

She swallowed and turned to Jacques. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but please try to keep an open mind. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t convinced of the seriousness of the situation.”

He nodded. “Please continue.”

“The artifact is a kind of book, but it’s also more than that. Its pages contain...incantations, for lack of a better word, that have the power to reshape the Earth and all those who inhabit it. In the hands of the corrupt it can be used for great evil.”

He laughed. “Do you mean to tell me, you’ve wasted our time and come close to exposing our operation over a magic book of parlor tricks?”

“I know how it sounds. Believe me, I do. But I have experienced the power of this device first hand--”

He put a hand on the edge of the table and leaned toward her. “When did you experience its power? Have the Nazis already used it?”

“No.” She looked away.

“Then how have you experienced its power?”

Paul glared at her. “I’d like to know as much as well.”

How much should I tell them?

“Give her a chance to speak.” Vincent waved his hand as if motioning for her to continue.

Jacques folded his arms and sat back in his chair. Paul mirrored his movements like a weak shadow cast in a dimly lit room.

I guess it’s all or nothing. If I can’t trust them with my identity and that of the book, then I can’t really trust them to help me retrieve it.

She stood, shoulders back, her eyes focused on Jacques. “Je suis Jeanne d’Arc...or rather, I was. There has always been blood on my hands, and there will surely be more. I have been witness to great evil through the ages, and at each turn I have opposed it. I, and others like me, have kept it at bay, but it has grown in strength and spilled across the land, tainting and destroying everything it touches. It corrupts men absolutely. Men that would have the power of this book for their own.” Her pitch rose. “I know you think I’m mad, as did many even as I led them to victory on the very soil of this nation. I have no means to convince you otherwise. Perhaps you will see my conviction as a testament to the truth of what I say. Whether you believe me or not, the Nazis will unleash the book’s devastating power if we don’t stop them. I need your help if I’m to succeed.”

The room was silent. Jacques shook his head and Paul’s mouth hung open. Vincent blinked several times and rubbed at his chin as though the power of her words had struck him across the face. She sat back down at the table and waited. Without their assistance she was bound to fail, but she had done what she could. It was now up to them.

Jacques broke the silence. “Miss Klein, I can tell that you believe passionately in what you speak of, but I cannot put the lives of my men at risk over beliefs...over a story about a book.”

She shook her head. “But isn’t that what you do every day? Don’t you all put yourself at risk for your beliefs?”

“We put ourselves at risk for our people, our families...the children. We cannot--”

Gunfire drowned out his words. Vincent was the first to respond. Before the others could stand, he drew a pistol and advanced toward the door. Screams arose from the other side of the wall, followed by more gunfire. Jacques and Paul moved from behind the table, weapons drawn. Jacques motioned Paul toward the side of the door, and then positioned himself in front of her. Wood grated against wood. Someone was pushing the dining table away from the painting on the other side of the hidden door. Vincent took aim and edged closer.

“What are they waiting for?” Paul whispered, looking back at Jacques.

Jacques shook his head, and then the room exploded. A thunderous assault blew the door from its hinges, slamming into Vincent with the force of a freight train. The big man crumpled like paper and fell to the floor. Paul’s tall figure disappeared, swallowed up in a cloud of debris. Before she could take cover, she was lifted off the ground by the blast. Her head hit the wall. A shower of wood and splinters and bits of brick rained down inside the tiny room. The figure of a man in an SS cap filled the doorway a second before she blacked out.

When she awoke, she was tied to the only chair left intact in the room. Vincent lay still beneath the remains of the door, a pool of blood haloing his head. Paul was nowhere to be found and Jacques was sitting up against the wall with his hands bound behind him. She couldn’t tell whether the marks on his face were from the explosion or their captors. As she moved her head and let out a few moans, a man in uniform approached her. He smiled as he looked at her. It was Niklas.

“I knew from the minute I met you that you couldn’t be trusted.” He smirked, the self-satisfaction evident on his face.

“I could say the same of you.” She tugged at her restraints. They didn’t budge.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Miss Klein. I’ve always been good at knots.”

“This isn’t what it looks like, Niklas. I was just--”

“Shut up, you filthy whore.” He came closer to her, pulling a large knife from his belt with his left hand, his Luger still in his right. “I got the truth out of that Jew at the library.”

She pulled against her restraints. “What did you do?”

“Don’t worry, she won’t be feeling any pain any longer. It’s amazing what a person will tell you just so you’ll put them out of their misery.” He put the tip of the knife on her leg and pushed down, just barely cutting into her flesh.

She flinched, but did her best to keep his gaze. “Let this man and his compatriots go, and I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Oh you’ll do whatever I ask anyway.” He leaned down close to her. “Because if you don’t, I’ll be paying a visit to your friend the Bishop.”

Jacques stirred and bent forward. Niklas aimed his gun at him.

“Let’s not do anything stupid. You just might be able to come out of this alive if you tell me what I want to know.”

“To hell with you, Nazi bastard.” Jacques spat on the floor in front of Niklas’ feet.

“You will be rethinking your position after you witness what I do to Miss Klein.” He returned his attention to her, his eyes barely containing his twisted desire.

He cut the top button off of her blouse in one clean motion. She flinched and shut her eyes, pressing herself back into the chair as far as she could.

“I think I might enjoy this, Miss Klein, and maybe you will--”

“Niklas!”

She opened her eyes as Lieutenant Wozniak stepped through the burnt out hole that had been the door, gun drawn. Even in dim light, she could see patches of blood on the sleeve of his jacket. His voice had a noticeable effect on Niklas. He immediately re-sheathed his knife and stood at attention.

“What are you doing here, soldier?”

“Didn’t Erich tell you sir? He was watching the front door.”

“I relieved Erich. I’m asking you for a report.” Henryk surveyed the room, his eyes at last landing on her. He watched her as Niklas spoke.

“I had suspicions Miss Klein was cavorting with the enemy sir, so I followed her here. As you can see, she was making plans with the resistance. This man is Jacques. He’s the one we’ve been looking for.”

“And why didn’t you come to me with your suspicions, soldier?”

“I wanted to make certain before I bothered you sir.” The young soldier stiffened, and swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to make any accusations against Miss Klein until I had proof. She is a member of the party after all.”

Henryk nodded. “Very good.”

Niklas smiled, letting a little of the stiffness out of his posture. “What should we do with Miss Klein and this man?”

Henryk raised his gun. “What we do with all vermin, soldier.”