Deep Sea One

Chapter 33

Eickhart planted a slug just off the center of the target. The corner of his mouth curled to one side, impressed that his recent life-changing condition did not much influence his aim. The rifle kicked harder than before though, now that he had no solid stance to steady him and his shoulder ached from the repeated impact of the butt.

Behind him Dieter entered with the stranger he was expecting. Patrick did not merit a look, but the old man spoke while his rifle was reloaded for him.

"Herr Braun, it is wonderful to see you here. I trust your accommodation is in order?" he asked with great authority, but as Patrick replied, the old man pulled the trigger, shattering the silence with barrel thunder.

"It is perfect, thank you," Patrick repeated.

"I trust you will be joining us for a bite?" Eickhart said, as he laid his sight straight ahead of the rifle, but this time Patrick waited for the clap before speaking. They exchanged the obligatory pleasantries before the boss gave the order for his staff to pack up. On their way back up the pathway there was an uncomfortable silence.

"Herr Braun, I would like for us to start today, if you do not mind. This project is urgent and quite rushed, considering the usual time frame of such endeavors," he said, with a deceptive patience ringing in his voice.

"I had a look at your specifications, Herr Eickhart, and I must say, I am just a bit curious. Why the rush?" Patrick asked in his most cordial tone.

Eickhart stopped his wheelchair. He did not turn his head to face the insolent idiot who dared question him. Dieter and Patrick exchanged glances and immediately the spy knew that he made a grave mistake. Dieter cringed somewhat, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

"I mean," Patrick continued, with no small measure of confidence, "this kind of structure rushed could have catastrophic results and I will not allow that."

Silence persisted among them at the architect's blatant statement. Now Eickhart turned to face him.

"Excuse me?"

"I reiterate — I will not allow any unnecessary hazards on this project in favor of rushing, Herr Eickhart. I have built bunkers before. Yes, I am aware that you are building a bunker, although an extravagant one. I am no fool. But in my business I do not only design and supervise the construction of secret compounds, I also assure the safety of my clients, which is of much more value to me than your money. So if you think me brash for stalling to make sure the structure is impervious to God himself, I am happy to bow out," Patrick rambled in his best authoritarian voice, while inside he shuddered, disbelieving his own words as they came.

"Well, I can't argue with that, now can I?" the old man said with a hiccup of amusement in his response, and without further conversation they continued on to the house.

After a luncheon of good food, rich wine and light conversation among Eickhart, his wife Greta and Patrick, the two men retired to the site of the construction excavated and ready for building.

"I wanted to show you this myself. I need this chamber to be as big as an average dance hall. I need the measurements just as I posted them, for optimal acoustic value. You will not deviate from my measurements, no matter what," the old man narrowed his eyes at Patrick and for the first time DCI Smith could discern the wicked recklessness in the old war criminal. Now he resembled his reputation in all its malevolent glory and Patrick felt his blood turn to ice.

"Absolutely. You have my word," Patrick replied, his face stoned and his eyes resolute. He needed to know more. Why were the acoustics important? Why a bunker? Why the rush? All that nudged at him.

"I need to know that I can trust you, Herr Braun. Your company has done work for me before, so I know what to expect from them, but since the head architect's untimely passing I am left uncertain of who would take his place, you see?" the boss drawled while tapping his wrinkled elongated fingers on the armrest of his motorized chair.

"I don't in any way claim to have pristine values, Herr Eickhart, nor do I perpetuate an ersatz front. I do not believe in bullshit, if I might be so crass," Patrick felt that subdued villain emerge from his hidden mind once more, ready to play the part. "I don't care if you build a church for your daughter's wedding or a cathedral for heretic practices, but I want to know what I am erecting and why. That way I know what enhancements to employ. After all, I know the science and the art better than my clients. If they entrust me with their desires, I can make their most twisted needs materialize." He bent down to take a sample of the soil without waiting for a reply.

"I don't believe in bullshit either, my friend," Eickhart said, "which is precisely why your predecessor left you this cushy position to fill. Need I say more?"

Patrick felt that strange coldness again at the old man's admission. Of course he had to do away with his previous architect. The secrets held here in Katzwang were of global-scale catastrophe and historical impact. These were things that had to be kept very covert or the slightest miscalculation could result in World War III. He played it slowly from there, keeping strictly to the details of the construction.

Gradually he realized that the so-called bunker was not to protect, but to contain.

"I will soon be coming in possession of an ancient artifact that needs to be kept in the confines of a certain frequency. If not, it can be quite destructive and that would defy the purpose, wouldn't it?" Eickhart boasted.

"Ooh, Egyptian, perhaps? I have an affinity for those," Patrick fished, just like he used to when he played along with perps, only to have them get comfortable. That was when they would give up their secrets and talk themselves into arrest.

"No, no! That is lavish, but utterly useless I have to say. No, this is something of pertinent importance, a relic viewed as…" the old man searched his mind for the correct term, "… holy."

Keep going, thought Patrick. He dismissed the old man's statement as fanciful. Nothing was really holy as it was believed in biblical days, he insisted, and watched the old man's temperature rise in frustration at his architect's disregard for the mighty artifacts he was capable of attaining.

"Oh, no, this one is capable of great power! It was said that it could wield terrible force so great that the oceans obeyed, that it could perform miracle or devastation at the hand of its wielder," the old man shouted, adamant to convince Patrick of his sincerity.

"It was said by whom, Herr Eickhart? These clandestine merchants will tell you anything to smear off a cheap knock-off on you for exuberant amounts of money," Patrick said nonchalantly, as he pretended to survey the area. The boss tried to maintain his cool, but this ignorant fool tested him beyond measure and he finally felt that he had to put the young man right in his place.

"Have you ever heard of the Spear of Destiny, Herr Braun?" the old man asked categorically.

Patrick froze for a second. To the old man it looked like shocked silence at realizing what league he was in, but to Patrick it was confusion. He was here to uncover the pending trade of biological weapons and viral terrorist acts in the pipeline. He was here to detect the mole that Eickhart had sent to procure these strains, the location of the culprit and when they would rendezvous. He was not here about relics and grave robbery.

Perplexed, he stood for a moment, and then decided to play it all by ear and hope that the old man would reveal more about his mission soon.

"I have read about it somewhere, I think. Some biblical rubbish they claimed was a treasure?" Patrick said, deliberately playing dumb. This time Eickhart saw his ignorance as a relief. At least with his completely oblivious mindset toward these things, he would be no threat when designing a chamber for the artifact. To him it was nonsense, a welcome demeanor in Eickhart's opinion. This architect would not have to be silenced, because he did not believe.

"Yes, some relic from the time of the Bible, son. And whether you believe its powers or not, I am going to own it," Eickhart said calmly.

"And I will make sure you have a perfect chamber to keep it in, sir," Patrick smiled for the first time, reading the old man's gaining trust in their mutual disclosure.

"Good. Good. Do you have everything you need?" he asked Patrick, who found the irony amusing.

"Yes, for now," he smiled and nodded, placing his faux samples in his case.

He had to somehow find a reason to get into Eickhart's study or to bug his office to find out more about the plans. Whatever he had to do, had to be done within the next few days. The SIS could pull him at any moment and he had better have something to offer. Unfortunately, what Patrick Smith neglected to remember, was that rushing the construction of dangerous things could result in catastrophe. This very sentiment was used by him to sway the opinion of Walter Eickhart, but he forgot that it pertained to the delicate weaving of an undetectable and potent snare to obtain vital information. A lesson he did not want to learn in the house of Eickhart.