Shadow Warrior: Destiny of a Mutant (11 page)

The weather was freezing cold and partly cloudy, which helped to conceal their exact positions in the gray morning sky. The snow had abated an hour earlier, which was both a blessing and a curse. The snow made flying more difficult, but it also helped conceal their positions from the Nazi anti-aircraft battery thousands of feet below that were doing their damndest to blow them out of the winter sky. However, their bombers were flying just out of their deadly range.

The squadron was commanded by Lieutenant Colonel James Harvey, U.S. Army Air Corps, and Major Ian Weston III, Royal Air Force. Both were experienced bomber pilots and had each racked up incredible bombing runs that had devastated their targets. Lt. Colonel Harvey was flying his B-17,
Betty Boop,
while Major Weston was flying his Halifax, the
HMS Folly
. Harvey’s bomber was decorated with an impressive array of numerous German tanks, aircraft, and ships that he and his crew had successfully blown out of existence. Major Weston’s bomber was adorned with an equally imposing display of battle artwork that indicated a impressive number of enemy kills as well.

“Blue Leader to Red Leader, over. Do you copy?” said Lt. Colonel Harvey to Major Weston.

“I copy loud and clear, Blue Leader,” replied Weston.

“Looks like Jerry’s trying his best to knock us out of the sky this fine morning.”

“Righto, Colonel. Let’s continue to make it difficult for the buggers, shall we?”

“Roger that, Red Leader,” he said with a smile. The lieutenant colonel had been on many successful bombing runs with the major and had drank more than a few beers with him and the other Brits under his command. They were friends as well as comrades-in-arms.

“I’m going to take a few of my men a couple of clicks south to scout for…” Before Major Weston could finish his sentence, one of the bombers to his port side was suddenly hit by a flash of blue light that emanated from the ground, and immediately the bomber simply vanished into thin air.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell was that?” asked Lt. Colonel Harvey; fear tinged his voice.

“Evasive maneuvers, dammit!” shouted Major Weston over the microphone.

As the bombers began evasive maneuvers, another blue light pierced the gray morning sky and took out another bomber, which was situated to the starboard side of Lt. Colonel Harvey.

“What the fuck is that light, and where the hell is it coming from?” demanded Harvey, from no one in particular. “One of you guys grab some binos and see if you can see where the fuck that’s coming from!” he yelled to his squad.

One of Harvey’s crew members quickly grabbed a pair of binoculars and tried to determine where the light was coming from. Within seconds he saw a German soldier in a clearing with an odd-looking shoulder weapon pointed in the general direction of the bombers.

“Sir, I see some Kraut with a…rifle of some kind. But it ain’t like no rifle I ever seen before, sir.” The crewman then grabbed a camera with a zoom lens and snapped a few pictures of the German soldier with the weapon. “Shit! He’s firing again! Incoming!” he shouted, just as the plane next to his also vanished out of the air.

“Let’s get our asses the fuck outta here now!” shouted Harvey.

Each bomber began a series of aerial maneuvers designed to make it harder for gunners on the ground to him them, but five more of the remaining flying fortresses were vaporized as the other three had been. The rest were lucky to escape with their lives, but they managed to get out of the deadly airspace and head back to their clandestine airstrip in England.

Once they were back on the ground, they immediately contacted their superiors and related the story of the mysterious weapon that had fired the deadly blue light. The photographs taken by one of Harvey’s men were immediately developed and sent by a special courier back to the United States for the purpose of trying to determine what the new German weapon was and what horrifying technology the Germans had developed that could vaporize a bomber out of the sky like it was nothing!

Chapter
24

White House Strategic Planning Room

Washington, D.C.

The photographs of the German soldier with the unidentified shoulder-fired weapon had made the rounds through the various civilian and military intelligence agencies. None of them could even come close to identifying the shoulder fired weapon or explaining how the Germans could have developed such an implement of destruction without it coming to the attention of any of the Allied intelligence services.

The directors of the FBI, the Office of Strategic Services, and the various military intelligence services had just finished an unproductive meeting with the president in his strategic planning room. The meeting left more questions than answers.

“Gentlemen, I cannot stress enough how quickly we must determine the origin of this weapon and stop its use and production at all costs,” said President Roosevelt, his face grim and drawn. He had not had much sleep since being informed of the German’s latest weapon. He feared that if the Germans could mass produce such a destructive force it would mean a decisive victory for them.

“Mr. President,” said J. Edgar Hoover, Director of the FBI, “we have every available agent working on this around the clock. We are talking to every intelligence asset that we have. We’ll get to the bottom of this soon.”

“Edgar, I’m sure that’s true, but we need some answers now!” the president said, striking the table with his fist. “The future of the United States and its Allies may very well be at stake. I shudder to think what would happen if the Germans mass produced this weapon, if they haven’t already.”

The heads at the table began nodding at the president’s comments.

“I don’t think they’ve mass produced it yet, Mr. President,” said Colonel William “Wild Bill” Donovan, Director of the OSS.

“Why is that, Bill?”

“Because, so far, this was an isolated incident. If the Germans truly had mass produced this weapon, they would have used it more extensively,” Donovan reasoned.

The president nodded at Donovan’s logic. “You’re probably right, Bill, but we can’t take that chance. That may have just been a test run to see if the damn thing worked. We must discover the origin of this weapon and put a stop to it immediately. And if the Germans have the damn thing, how long will it be before the Japanese or the other Axis powers get their hands on one or more as well?”

The president looked into the face of everyone sitting at the table. They were nodding their heads, or saying, “Yes, Mr. President.” All had trouble meeting his eyes as they knew he was right, and each was angry and stymied by the fact he had no answers for his Commander-in-Chief. All of them had the same downtrodden appearance, except for Donovan. He had the look of a man who knew something but was unwilling to share it with anyone in this group.

The president knew Donovan well enough to know that he was not just being territorial with the information, even though he had had his share of run ins with Hoover, who had intelligence gathering responsibilities inside of the United States and in Latin America. No, Donovan had a reason for not divulging whatever information he had to this group and Roosevelt would have to trust him and his reasoning.

“Well, gentlemen, let’s get to work on finding out what’s going on. Let’s plan on meeting here tomorrow at the same time. I would like some answers by then. Good day, gentlemen.”

The men all said goodbye to the president and exited the room. The president could tell that Donovan was purposely dragging his feet and decided to give him an out so it didn’t look like he was holding back any information.

“Colonel Donovan, I believe you owe me a drink. Can you stick around a few minutes?” asked the president innocently.

“Yes, Mr. President,” replied a relieved looking Donovan.

“Fine, let’s head down to my office.”

Roosevelt began rolling his wheelchair to the Oval Office while Donovan walked quietly beside him.

As they entered the Oval Office, Donovan walked over to the president’s private liquor cabinet and poured himself and the president a glass of twelve year old Johnnie Walker Red Label scotch, which had been a gift from British Prime Minister Winston Churchill a couple of years before. After pouring their drinks, Donovan handed Roosevelt his glass of scotch, and they clinked their glasses together.

“Cheers,” said the president, and then took a long pull on his own drink. “So,” began the president after downing a third of his drink, “what is it you wish to tell me that you couldn’t divulge to the others?” Roosevelt asked as he placed a Camel cigarette in his trademark cigarette holder and lit it up.

Donovan almost spit out his drink at the president’s statement.

“Shit, Frank. I guess you know me too well.”

The president just smiled and said, “You should know by now that you can’t bullshit an old bullshitter, my friend. Besides, we have known each other for more than thirty years.” Roosevelt and Donovan had been friends since they were classmates at Columbia Law School.

Donovan sighed deeply, placed his drink on the bar, and began to speak.

“I have my reasons for not wanting to divulge the information I’m about to impart to you to the rest of the group that just left, mainly because I’m still having a lot of trouble believing it myself. And if the information was leaked, it could have dire consequences not just for the United States and its allies…but for mankind.”

The president said nothing, but gave Donovan a ‘keep going’ look and gesture with his hand.

“The technology the Germans are using does not currently exist anywhere on Earth.”

Roosevelt looked a little perplexed at this. “Bill, of course it exists on Earth. We have eight destroyed planes that says it does.”

Donovan was shaking his head. “I never said they didn’t have the technology, Frank. I just said that it doesn’t
exist
anywhere on Earth.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you on this one, Bill,” Roosevelt said, still looking somewhat perplexed. “What do you mean it doesn’t exist on Earth?”

“Frank, the bombers that were hit by that blue light weapon were not just destroyed - they were completely
vaporized
without a trace. That technology, according to every top scientist and physicist my people discreetly conferred with, does not currently exist
anywhere whatsoever on this planet
. In fact, they estimate that we won‘t have that sort of technology for hundreds of years.”

The implications of what Donovan was saying were starting to become clear.

“Are you telling me that you believe the German’s are using…”

“Extraterrestrial technology, Mr. President,” finished Donovan.

“Dear God! That’s impossible!”

“I know it is, but…” Donovan hesitated. Being the head of an organization that thrived on secrets, it was hard to be forthright with sensitive information.

“But what?”

“There is more. A lot more,” Donovan said cryptically.

“Continue, please.”

Donovan cleared his throat and continued. “For some time now we have known that the Germans had built a secret research and development facility known as the
Eyrie
.”

“Yes. I remember the name of that place from some briefings you gave a while back.”

“Correct. The place is extremely well-fortified with anti-aircraft batteries and made with tons of concrete and steel. The facility was built into the side of a mountain, but the main part of it is built underground. It is a veritable fortress. Over the past several months, we were able to have one of our assets successfully infiltrate the facility. The asset, codenamed ’Condor,’ was able to secretly take some photographs of what was going on inside of the place and smuggle them out to us.”

Donovan then retrieved and opened a briefcase he had brought in with him. He took a large manila envelope out of the briefcase that had the words ’TOP SECRET: EYES ONLY POTUS’ stamped boldly across the front of the envelope, indicating that it was only to be viewed by the President of the United States, and handed it to Roosevelt. Roosevelt then opened the envelope, took out several photographs that had been inside, and placed them on his desk.

The president began going through them. He gasped loudly as he looked at the first photograph.

“Dear Lord! That can’t be what it looks like?” Roosevelt asked.

“Yes, Mr. President. We believe that’s a real alien spacecraft.”

“Oh my God. But how? When? Where?”

“The best the asset can determine is that several months ago an alien spacecraft crash landed somewhere in Germany, probably near Stuttgart.”

“Why do you think it was near Stuttgart?”

“A squad of German soldiers was killed - massacred, actually - at a secret anti-aircraft battery installation. We were blamed for it, but there were no Allied raids in that area that week. We believe that the crew manning that anti-aircraft battery was killed to keep them quiet about their find.”

“Killed by who?”

“The SS, most likely.”

“Good God. They killed their own men and then made it look like we did it just to cover this up?”