Jeremy Robinson - SecondWorld

“Which is both of us, I’m guessing?”

She nodded. “I took years of advanced math in the hopes that I could understand my grandmother’s work. It’s still like looking at hieroglyphics to me.”

Miller flipped through the pages and stopped at a list of names beneath the word Laternenträger. “What’s this?”

Adler leaned forward, looking at the open page. “ Laternenträger. She called it Project Lantern Bearer, but that was just one of many names given to each individual aspect of the final project. The names are a list of everyone she believed was involved.”

Miller read through the list of names.

— Admiral Rhein - Kriegsmarine

— SS Obergruppenführer Emil Mazuw

— Dr. Kurt Debus - Parameter und Messung, Hochspannungs-Stromversorgung, Mathematik

— Dr. Hans Coler - Physiker, Spezialisierung Strom und Magnetismus

— Professor Dr. Walther Gerlach - Spinpolarisation, Magnetismus Schwerkraft

— Dr. Hermann Oberth - Raumfahrt Theoretiker, Raketeningenieur

— Dr. Aldric Huber - Antrieb Spezialist und Assistent von Braun

— Dr. Wernher von Braun - Rakete Wissenschaftler, Ingenieur

“Wernher von Braun?” Miller said. The name sounded familiar.

“You know who he is?”

Miller looked at her. “Do you?”

“Only what it says there. That he was a rocket scientist and engineer.”

Miller shook his head. “I guess that’s why you’re a liaison instead of an investigator?”

She bristled. “Hey, I didn’t know if any of this was real until a few days ago. I loved my grandmother, but she wasn’t lucid before she died. I wasn’t— I wasn’t sure it was—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Miller had the phone out and worked his fingers across the touch screen.

“You think this is worth taking to the president?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said, not looking up from the phone.

“Why not?”

“First, the math may reveal the scope and potential danger of the attacks, but like you said, we’ve already had a taste of Grandma’s secret recipe. Second, the president won’t understand a lick of this either and will have to turn it over to NASA or DARPA. If he does that, there’s a good chance we’ll tip off the bad guys and give them time to erase the trail.”

“What trail?”

Miller turned the iPhone around. A Web site was displayed showing a dapper-looking man in a gray suit leaning on a desk in front of an American flag. Next to the photo was the name: Dr. Wernher von Braun.

Adler took the phone and read through the text. Her expression became more shocked with each line. “Operation Paperclip.” Adler was familiar with the then-secret program that brought the best and brightest Nazi scientists to the United States and made them naturalized citizens. Many of the great scientific achievements of modern America had come from those German minds, including the atom bomb. But she hadn’t realized how much freedom those scientists had been given. “ Mein Gott, they made him director of the Marshall Space Flight Center?”

“Wouldn’t have made it to the moon without him. Says he died in ’75.”

“Then what can we do?”

“Other than track down and interrogate his children? Find out if Aldric Huber is still alive.”

“Aldric Huber?”

Miller spun the journal around and pointed to the name near the bottom of the list. “My German is rusty, but I’m pretty sure this says he was von Braun’s assistant.”

“ Ja. ”

Miller began dialing a number on the phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Someone I trust.”

After reaching the automated switchboard, Miller punched in the extension number. The line picked up a moment later. “You’ve reached the office of Executive Assistant Director Fred Murdock. Leave your name, number, and time and date of your call and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” The message beeped. “Fred, it’s Lincoln. Sorry I haven’t been in touch yet. But something fell in my lap and it can’t be ignored. I need you to get me everything you can on a guy named Aldric Huber. Born in Germany. May be a naturalized U.S. citizen. If he’s still alive he’d be old. Eighties. Maybe nineties. Keep it under the radar. Do the search yourself and delete it when you’re done. Call me back at…” Miller quickly found the phone number under the Settings tab and read it into the phone.

When he hung up, Miller realized his instincts now controlled his actions. He was on the case. And that meant he’d follow this thing to the end, whatever that might be. Which meant he’d be breaking a promise.

He dialed 411 and got the name and number of the flower shop inside the George Washington University Hospital. After being connected he arranged to have a pack of chocolate puddings and a bouquet of flowers delivered to Arwen’s room. When asked about the note for the flowers, he said, “Arwen, I’m taking the ring to Mount Doom. Love, Frodo.”

The woman on the other end of the line got a laugh out of that, but Miller knew Arwen would understand the message. His quest had begun. He hung up the phone and turned to Adler, who waited with raised eyebrows.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now,” Miller said, “I’m taking a shower.” He opened the Safari Web browser on the phone and handed it to her. “Find out what you can about the other names on the list. If anything stands out, make a note. After that, read and reread your grandmother’s journal. Flag anything that sounds like it doesn’t involve Project Lantern Bearer. If Fred calls, come get me.”

She looked surprised. “In the shower.”

Miller gave a sarcastic nod. “That’s where I’ll be.”

He stood and walked to the bathroom, wondering if it was even possible that a dead German scientist turned U.S. patriot and his assistant could help track down a modern Nazi cabal who’d shown they were fully capable of wiping out the human race. The truth was, he doubted it. He was grasping at straws. But the journal of a German mathematician had provided a few bread crumbs to follow.

Perhaps there would be a trail?

Of course, he didn’t expect to find more bread crumbs. Blood seemed more likely.

Miller left the bathroom thirty minutes later feeling clean for the first time in days. While he felt eager to hear back from Fred, he also felt thankful that he’d been given the time to just stand under the scalding water and decompress. The tension melted away from his back and the chaos in his mind eased.

When Adler looked up from her grandmother’s diary, she noticed the difference immediately. “You look… better.”

He sat down next to her. “I feel better.” He tugged at his ill-fitting shirt. “Though we’ll be picking up some clothes for me next time we get a chance. None of these are mine.” He looked at the journal. “Find anything useful?”

“Obergruppenführer Emil Mazuw was general of the Waffen-SS—the Schutzstaffel, Hitler’s elite—and one of eight Higher SS and police leaders. He was definitely involved in the development of secret weapons, but the Allies captured him at the end of the war. He served sixteen years for his part in the Holocaust, which included euthanizing Jews. After his release he got a job, lived off the radar, and died in 1987.”

“Sixteen years ?” Miller said, his jaw slack.

“ Ja, ” she said. “They should have hung them all.”

Miller smiled. Part of him expected Adler to be defensive, but her voice held as much venom as his.

“Dr. Kurt Debus. This may not be any help because he died in 1983, but he was also brought to the U.S. by Operation Paperclip and became the first director of NASA’s Kennedy Space Center.”