Doctor; I’m not calling every extremist ‘evil.’ I don’t even use that term to label most terrorists. Many believe that what they are doing is the only means to a better end, or they believe in the words of their leaders, or in a specific interpretation of scripture. There are countless reasons why people take arms and do violence against one another. No, when I label someone like Josef Mengele as evil, I am speaking of a level of corruption that is fueled by self- awareness. Mengele wasn’t a fanatic blindly following a cause. He was a monster. If he had not been born into Nazi Germany, then he might have become a serial murderer or some other kind of monster.”
Hu looked unconvinced, but he didn’t pursue the point.
Church selected a cookie and bit off a piece. “Now, as for the rest of the material you found, Captain Ledger, most of it is in code and we lack the code key. Our cryptographers are working on it now, but that could take days or weeks. However, from diagrams and charts it’s clear that a third of the boxes deal with some aspect of genetic research, which means that it is information from well after the war. We have to face the very real possibility that the material includes copies of the material the List destroyed.”
“Swell,” I said. “And the bruisers who trashed the Russians made off with most of the microfiche copies and probably the damn code key.”
Church nodded. “The book Jerome Freund was working on mentioned Heinrich Haeckel. The Haeckel family has had an association with biological science for over a century. Ernst Haeckel, who died in 1919, was a noted biologist who made significant positive contributions to natural science. However, his brother’s son, Heinrich, was a monster. He was also a scientist, but his interest was eugenics, and through his research Jerome was able to determine to a great degree of certainty that Heinrich Haeckel was the scientist who sold Adolf Hitler on the concept of
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed, and when Grace and Bug looked at me with a frown I translated it for them. The words hurt my mouth.
“It means ‘life unworthy of life.’ ”
Chapter Sixty-Two
The Deck
Sunday, August 29, 5:32 A.M.
Time Remaining on the Extinction Clock: 78 hours, 28 minutes E.S.T.
“Why haven’t we heard anything yet?”
Otto looked up from his computer. “Give it time, Mr. Cyrus.”
“It’s been more than enough time,” Cyrus snapped. “Are you sure that they have the right location?”
“Of course we do. Everything’s been verified and the team is probably on the ground now. This is a field operation, a covert infiltration, and that demands care and caution. We have to let them do their jobs.”
“I want to know what’s happening. And I want to be informed the minute that either Paris or Hecate has been killed. The minute, Otto.”
Otto nodded but didn’t respond. It was an unreasonable and irrational demand. A sure sign that it was time for a fresh set of pills. That would be tricky, because suggesting it while Cyrus was in this frame of mind was sure to spark a murderous rage. Though Otto was not physically afraid of Cyrus Jakoby, there was a very real danger to the plan. In the past few years Cyrus’s rages had resulted in damage to crucial equipment and the murder or maiming of key staff members, all of which impacted the smooth flow of production. That, in turn, harmed the launching of the Extinction Wave.
The upcoming date of September 1 had been selected during one of Cyrus’s whimsical phases and celebrated the discovery of the asteroid Juno by German astronomer Karl L. Harding. Cyrus insisted that the asteroid had not been discovered prior to that date because it had not come into existence until God put it there as a sign. The previous date for the launch of the Wave had held far more personal significance for Otto-May 20, the anniversary of the beginning of construction of Auschwitz. Before that it had been April 30, the anniversary of Hitler’s suicide. Otto was determined to make the September 1 deadline, even if the astronomical connection meant less than nothing to him.
The second and third Extinction Waves were already lined up, and both would be ready well before their initial planning dates. If they stayed with this schedule, then the global release of ethnic-specific pathogens would reach critical saturation by May of the following year. The computer models predicted that by September of next year the death toll among the mud people would be closing in on 1 billion. In five years there would only be a billion people left alive on the planet, and unless they possessed some currently unknown immunity, none of the survivors would be black, Asian, or Hispanic. The thought of that gave Otto a sexual thrill far more intense than anything he ever got from a woman. The New Order was not only a perfect plan; it was also within their reach.
Unless Cyrus went too long without his pills.
Once they seized the Dragon Factory, Cyrus would likely calm down. He would have so many new toys to play with. But while the likelihood of accomplishing that goal was still fluid, then Cyrus’s moods would swing further out of balance.
Otto would have to think of something to get Cyrus to take his pills. If it came down to it, Otto could always hit him with a dart gun. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Chapter Sixty-Three
The Warehouse, Baltimore, Maryland
Sunday, August 29, 5:33 A.M.
Time Remaining on the Extinction Clock: 78 hours, 27 minutes
“Life unworthy of life,” Bug said slowly. “Man, that has an ugly feel to it.”
“It’s the core of Nazi eugenics,” Church said. “It refers to those people-or groups of people-who they believed had no right to live.”
“If these assholes have their way,” Bug said softly, “half the people at this table won’t make the cut. We’re not ‘master race’ material.”
“Is anyone?” asked Church. “The idea of a master race belonged to the Nazis… it was not and is not part of the cultural aspirations of the German people.”
“So that’s why Haeckel was corresponding with an asshole like Mengele,” Bug said, putting it together now. “They were all playing for the same team.”
“But how did his records ever make it out of Germany?” demanded Grace. “Wasn’t Haeckel considered a war criminal?”
“No,” said Church. “His involvement with the Nazi movement was never fully established even after the war. He was supposedly a dealer in medical instruments and even did work with the International Red Cross. He was sly enough to stay off the political radar, and it’s very likely that he fled the country when things started going bad for Germany. A lot of Nazis were able to read the writing on the wall. They were losing the war, but many of them were so dedicated-or perhaps fanatical-that they wanted to lay the groundwork for their research so that it could start up again somewhere else. Haeckel might have gone to South America or even come directly here.”
“How the hell could he swing that?” asked Bug. “No way a Nazi could just come waltzing into the U.S. during the war.”
Grace shook her head. “Don’t be naive, Bug. There was active communication and even some under-the-radar commerce between Germany and some U.S. corporations during the war. Very low-key, but definitely there. There are people who always have what they call a ‘big picture’ view that basically lets them justify anything because they know that wars end and countries usually kiss and make up. Nowadays you Yanks are chums with Germany, Russia, Japan, even Vietnam.”
“It can’t be that easy,” Bug said stubbornly.
“It’s not,” said Church, “but when there’s enough money on the table a way is always found. Heinrich Haeckel disappeared from the public before the end of the war. Either he never made it out of Germany and was among the
