The Project 02 - The Lance

wave stuff was state of the art in the forties," Otto said. "Look at the size of that transmitter. Must be two kilowatts at least. There've been rumors of this place since the war, but no one ever knew where it was, or if it was real."
    "Berlin isn't going to be happy about this."
    " No one wants to think about that Nazi crap anymore. What they do with this is their business. But we have to report it."
    They left the radio room and continued down the passage. The next room contained two large diesel generators, silent and cold. Exhaust tubes disappeared into the ceiling.
    Down the tunnel a series of four rooms opened to the sides. T hree were empty. The fourth held six large wooden crates, each stenciled in black with an eagle and swastika. Hans rubbed frost away from a label.
    He looked at Otto. " It says 'kitchen supplies'."
    " That's a lot of supplies."
    In the corner Otto spied a long crowbar, set against the icy wall. He picked it up and pried away the lid of a crate. He shone his light inside.
    " Not kitchen supplies. Look at this!"
    The crate was filled with paintings. They peered in.
    "That's a Vermeer!" Hans said. "I recognize the style. Or it's a damn good copy."
    " No one would stash a copy here." Otto pushed the lid back in place. "That painting is worth a fortune. It must have been stolen during the war. I'll bet all these crates are full of things stolen by the Nazis."
    They walked down the tunnel and passed two large closed doors on their left. The doors didn 't budge when Otto tried to open them. At the end of the corridor they came to a steel door with a spoked wheel and a combination dial.
    Hans tried to turn the wheel, but it was locked in place.
    " If they left paintings worth millions outside this vault, what could be in here?"
    Otto shrugged. "Who knows? We'd better get back and tell the others. It's going to play hell with our research time once Berlin sends people to check it out."
    " Look on the bright side. There has to be a finder's fee for that art work. Maybe we'll get some real funding out of it. Publicity, too. That never hurts."
    In the scientific world, fame was a good thing. Both men thought that the future had just gotten brighter.
    Back at the station, Otto contacted Berlin by satellite with news of the find. It never occurred to him that someone else might be listening.

CHAPTER TWELVE

    In a secluded enclave outside of Washington, the Grand Master of the Council sat behind his desk. He took a deep breath of the heady aroma rising from a crystal snifter of Louis XIII cognac in his hand.
    The light was fading. The French doors of the library were open. It was warm even though October was more than half gone. The sound of a fountain came from somewhere in the garden behind the house. The library was filled with books, many in German. Nietzsche, Heidegger, Marx, Engles, all were there. There was even a well-worn, autographed copy of Mein Kampf.
    A glassed gun case of rifles and shotguns stood in one corner. Antique prints of European hunting scenes hung nearby. A painting of Frederick Barbarossa, the Holy Roman Emperor, stared out from the wall behind the desk. His expression was stern.
    P hotographs of the Grand Master with congressional figures, business leaders and Presidents covered one wall. In one photo a blond haired young man stood in cap and gown before the entrance to Yale University. A tall, brittle woman in a blue dress stood next to him.
    The floor of the library was covered with thick Persian carpeting. A maroon Chesterfield couch with two matching chairs was placed near the garden doors. In the far corner, a mounted set of antique armor stood guard.
    The Grand Master had the kind of face people trusted. No one could have guessed his real thoughts. No one would have believed them possible.
    His encrypted phone rang.
    " Yes?"
    The voice on the other end spoke in German. It was exultant.
    "The Spear has been found!"
    The Grand Master felt a surge of adrenaline. At last! With the Lance recovered, success was certain
    "S ecured?"
    " Not yet, but a unit has been activated."
    " When will they arrive?"
    "ETA six hours. Further transport tomorrow afternoon."
    " Excellent. Arrange a conference for nine tomorrow evening."
    " As you command."
    The Grand Master set the phone down. He could barely contain his excitement. He went to the painting of Frederick Barbarossa, swung the picture away from the wall and opened a safe. He took out a cracked black leather binder embossed in gold