Preacher, Part 1
Frankfurt, Hesse – October 3, 1994,11:23 PM
Dr. Saul Gerhard sat in front of his TV, watching the latest episode of
The Berserker. He heard rumbling outside his door. Walking over, he opened it, and smoke and flames immediately poured in.
“AAAAHHH!” he screamed, reaching for his phone and calling the emergency hotline.
“119 operator, please state the nature of the emergency,” the operator said.
“Yeah, this is Dr. Saul Gerhard,” he said, “There’s a fire outside my apartment. I’m trapped.”
“Are you at 700 East 56th?” the operator asked.
“Yes, apt. 606,” Saul said, “For god’s sake, hurry!”
“Fire units are being dispatched right now, sir. Please stay on the line.”
Saul grabbed a fire extinguisher and aimed at the approaching flames. “Somebody help!”
Below, fire trucks pulled up to the apartment building, and firemen stormed inside, led by Lieutenant Roland. As they reached level 6 and saw no flames, Roland took out his radio.
“This is Lt. Roland,” he said, “We have a possible 23 false alarm in apartment six-zero-six. Let’s confirm that location, 606.”
“Yes, that’s affirmative, 606,” said a woman on the other end.
Roland felt the door to 606. “It’s cold, let’s do it!”
His men kicked down the door and ran inside, but they found nothing but Saul’s body.
“He’s dead,” a fireman said.
“Yeah, I noticed that,” Roland said, “Like he burned to death. But where’s the fire?”
Erich’s office, Constantinople – October 4, 1994, 9:00 AM
Anders sat down in Erich’s office and put the day’s newspaper on the desk. Opening it, the article on Saul Gerhard’s death was circled in red ink, and a cassette tape fell out.
“Did you send this?” Anders asked.
Erich shook his head.
Anders loaded the tape into a radio and pressed play. It was a recording of the 119 call and the firefighters’ response.
Anders pointed at the article. “The article makes no mention of the fire.”
“Yes, Anders, I can read,” Erich said.
“Gerhard’s company had a number of government contracts, which would place this investigation within the Athanatoi’s jurisdiction,” Anders said.
“But that’s not why you want the assignment,” Erich said.
“I think that the circumstances surrounding Gerhard’s death warrant a closer look,” Anders said, “I called FPD, but they won’t even talk to me unless I get the Justice Minister or Schulz to sign off on it.”
“Where’d you get the tape?” Erich asked. “Presumably, someone had led you to believe that there is more here than is being reported.”
“I don’t know,” Anders said, “You said you didn’t send it. You don’t look like the kind of person to send it. And my source is dead.”
“You mean my dad,” Erich said.
“You knew?” Anders asked.
Erich sighed. “Of course. It was quite obvious every time you kept sneaking out and had your butts saved while chasing crop circles or something. And it was a little coincidental, how my dad was killed right around the time I was ordered to recommend X-Division being shut down.”
“I thought that was because of Angie,” Anders said.
“Partly,” Erich said, “But my arm’s being twisted by Cigarette Guy, who left me no choice. Anyways, I’ll look into this further and I’ll let you know. In the meantime, you have 24 hours of wiretap that needs to be transcribed.”
Anders left Erich’s office and went back to his office, where he took out another wiretap tape and loaded it into his stereo, getting out a notebook.
“Are you comin’ over or what? You said you was comin’ over two hours ago and I’m waitin’ here like some stupid [REDACTED] who ain’t got nothin’ better to do with her time. . .”
Anders rewound the tape.
“. . .waitin’ here like some stupid [REDACTED] who ain’t got nothin’ better to do with her time than to sit around here waitin’ for you.”
An agent knocked on the door. “Agent Humboldt?”
“Yeah,” Anders said.
The agent handed him a form. “It’s your 302. Assistant Director Hansen just approved it.”
Anders read the form. “There’s a mistake here. There’s another agent assigned to the case.”
The agent held out his hand. “That would be me. Novak, Pavel Novak.”
Anders shook his hand. “Hansen didn’t say anything about taking on a new partner.”
“It wasn’t Hansen,” Pavel said, “Actually, I opened the file 2 hours before your request, so technically it’s my case.”
“And you already talked to the police?” Anders asked.
“Yeah, just talked with the officer in charge few minutes ago,” Pavel said, “Detective Wolfram. Turns out Gerhard called 119 to report a fire.”
“I heard the tape,” Anders said.
“Did you hear that forensics found a spent fire extinguisher on the floor?” Pavel said. “Gerhard’s prints were all over it. The walls and floor in his living room were covered with ammonium phosphate like you’d find in the fire extinguisher.”
“But no trace of a fire,” Anders said.
“Not even a burnt match,” Pavel said.
“That all you know?” Anders said.
“So far,” Pavel said, “What do you think it means?”
“Listen, I appreciate the show and tell, and I don’t want you to take this personally, but I generally work alone,” Anders said, “I’ll straighten things out with Hansen.”
“It’s my case, Agent Humboldt,” Pavel said, “Look, I’ve been with the Athanatoi since before the war started, so I have seniority. And I had the case first anyways, so while I appreciate your enthusiasm in wanting this case, I can’t give it away so quickly.”
Anders sighed. “Alright, I’ll tell you what, I got a little work to finish up around here. Why don’t you go down to the motor pool and requisition us a car and I’ll meet you down there.”
“That’s all,” Pavel said, “I mean you don’t have a problem with us working together.”
Anders shrugged. “It’s your party.”
“Well, um, I’ll get the car,” Pavel said.
Anders watched Pavel walk away.
Athanatoi Academy
Angela gestured at the cadaver on the table and held up an electrical cable, ominously sparking at the tip, as the students watched.
"Alright," she said, "Now electrocution affects electrolytic conduction, disrupting the heart beat and most autonomic systems. Death actually occurs from tissue damage, and necrosis in the heart itself, particularly in the sinus and the atria ventricular nodes..."
An agent rushed in and ran up to her.
"Agent Hansen, sorry to interrupt, but you have a call from a Georg Haller, says it’s urgent," he said.
Angela rolled her eyes and picked up the phone. "Excuse me."
"Really, 'Georg'?" she said. "Did you really have to interrupt me now? I'm lecturing these kids on electrocution. … Yes, the same lecture that got interrupted last time. … Oh come on! Is it really that bad? … Are you sure I'm not going to be put in the middle of another potentially traumatizing mass shooting? … Alright, where are you?"
"Saint Wilhelmina International," Anders said, "Catching a plane over to Frankfurt in a half an hour. How do you feel about joining me for an autopsy?"
"What’s going on?" Angela asked. "Why are we going to another city named Frankfurt? Especially after what happened when we visited the other Frankfurt."
"I was hoping you could tell me," Anders said.
"I can’t do it today," Angela said, "My last class isn’t until 4:30. And I really want to finish this lecture. I've been waiting almost two years to finish it."
The students shifted nervously.
"That’s fine," Anders said, "I understand how you feel.”
“No you don’t,” Angela said, “I failed to stop that shooting. I failed to save the constable and stop Ed. All because of Vienna. So I’m taking a break from the field, if you don’t mind.”
“I can have the ME wrap the body to go, then,” Anders said, “You’ll get it by five."
Angela sighed. "What’s the name?"
Gerhard Sleep Disorder Clinic, Frankfurt – 2:40 PM
“Dr. Gerhard’s alpha-wave analysis defined the standard,” a nurse told Anders, “He revolutionized the way we think about sleep. His unexpected death was a tremendous loss to the scientific community.”
“How many other kinds of sleep disorder did he treat?” Anders asked.
“There are 38 different dyssomnias and parasomnias,” the nurse said, “Dr. Grissom treated them all with an unprecedented success ratio.”
“Maintaining that kind of batting average must have taken its toll,” Anders said.
“Excellence demands certain sacrifices,” the nurse said.
“Did he ever show any signs of psychological stress?” Anders asked.
“Not really,” the nurse aid, “Except for his own occasional bout of insomnia.”
“But he was never delusional,” Anders said.
“Of course not,” the nurse said.
Anders looked at a nearby patient wearing a strange headset. “What’s his story?”
“This patient’s night terrors prevent him from cycling out REM sleep into the more restful slow wave sleep,” the nurse said, “It’s still experimental, but what we’re trying to do is modify his brain wave patterns externally.”
“How do you do that?” Anders asked.
“Electrical stimulation of the occipital lobe creates simply visual and auditory hallucinations,” the nurse said.
“So it’s actually possible to alter somebody’s dreams?” Anders asked.
“In theory, yes,” the nurse said, “You can thank the engineers at Tesla Dynamic for that.”
Several minutes later, as Anders left the clinic, he noticed Pavel driving up and getting out. He approached Anders, a stern look on his face.
“I paid off your cab,” Pavel said, “Hey, I don’t appreciate being ditched like a bad date.”
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” Anders said, “Did Diana send you to mess with me?”
“Where do you get off copping this attitude?” Pavel said, “You don’t even know the first thing about me.”
“Your parents died at Vienna,” Anders said.
“Besides that,” Pavel said.
“Exactly,” Anders said.
“You know, when I was at the Foreign Division, some of the guys used to make fun of you,” Pavel said.
“Oh stop it, or you’ll hurt my feelings,” Anders said.
“But there were some of us who followed your work,” Pavel said, “Believed what you were doing because we knew that there was more out there than they were telling us.”
Anders’ phone rang. “Go ahead, Angie.”
“Gerhard didn’t die from cardiac arrest,” Angela said.
“What is it?” Anders said.
“I think you should come back and take a look for yourself,” Angela said, “I haven’t even started on the chest and abdomen yet and I’ll have a lot more to tell you then.”
“I can make it in two hours,” Anders said.
Anders reached for the door, but Pavel held up the keys.
“I’m driving,” he said, “Now where are we going?”
“Angie never lets me drive,” he complained.
Athanatoi Academy, Adrianople – 6:45 PM
Angela dropped a large organ on the scale, where it flopped and splatted messily. The meter went crazy for a couple seconds as it adjusted to the new weight.
“Spleen or pancreas?” Anders asked.
“Stomach, actually,” Angela said, “I was just about to start on it.”
Anders almost forgot about Pavel and pointed at him. “This is Pavel Novak. We’re, uh, working the case together.”
“Novak…” Angela said. “I met your parents—”
“Let’s not talk about that,” Pavel said, “They told me you were there.”
“Yeah,” Angela said.
“And that you saw my dad get shot,” Pavel said.
“Uh, yeah,” Angela said, “Well, I’m sorry about your parents, but can we move past that? It’s nice to meet you.”
She held out her hand, but Pavel walked right past it. Frustrated, she turned back to Gerhard’s body on her operating table.
“Notice the pugilistic attitude of the corpse,” she said.
Pavel coughed loudly into his fist.
“This condition generally occurs several hours after death,” Angela said, “It’s caused by a coagulation of muscle proteins when the body is exposed to extremely high temperatures.”
“Like fire?” Anders said.
“This degree of limb flexion is observed exclusively in burn-related victims,” Angela said.
“But there was no fire,” Pavel said.
“And no epidermal burns to indicate as much,” Angela said, “But when I opened up the skull, I found external hemorrhages, which can only be caused by intense heat. Somehow, this man suffered all of the secondary, but none of the primary physiological signs of being in a fire. He suffered the effects of being burnt, but he wasn’t actually burnt.”
“Any theories?” Anders said.
“I couldn’t even begin to explain what could have caused this,” Angela said. “It’s almost as if…”
“What?” Anders said.
“It’s almost as if his body believed it was burning,” Angela said, “I could make a joke about you wanting to believe.”
Frankfurt – 9:05 PM
Heinrich sat in his chair, a beer in his hand. His TV was tuned to the news. Currently, reporters were talking about the conference in Krasnoyar, where Chinese and Russian diplomats were signing a treaty of détente between the two nations. The ticker showed the latest updates on the examination campaign. The candidates from the SPR, KRA, and the CMU were debating the issue of gun laws after the mass shooting in Frankfurt-Oder which left 54 dead. Both Kohl and Rudolf Scharping (the SPR candidate for chancellor) favored stricter gun laws, especially in the former Occupied Territories, while the KRA candidate, Klaus Kinkel, called for the abolition of all gun laws and the enacting of a law which would require all citizens to own a gun. He was promptly laughed into silence, and Kohl and Scharping continued their debate. Heinrich winced and rubbed the scar on his neck. His injury had been acting up again lately.
“You left the door open, Willig,” a man said.
Heinrich turned around. “Preacher? Augustus Kurt?”
Augustus smiled. “Not a good idea leaving your door open in this neighborhood. You never know who’s gonna drop by.”
Heinrich got up and hugged him. “What are you doin’ here? How long ya been in town? Want a beer?”
“How ya doin’, Heinrich, huh?” Augustus said. “How ya been?”
“How am I doin’?” Heinrich said. “I’m, uh,--tryin’ to forget. You know. I’m trying to get it out of my head.”
“No luck?” Augustus said.
Heinrich laughed. “And I’m, uh, still fightin’ it, you know. I keep seein’ the faces. Every day I see---aw, what’s the difference. We’re all goin’ to Hell, right?”
“Where you think we been the last 24 years?” Augustus said. “After this, whatever you is gonna seem like you get a wine invitation.”
“What do you want here, Preacher?” Heinrich said, his smile vanishing. “You killed them, didn’t you? You killed Gerhard. I saw it on TV.”
“He had to pay, Henrich,” Augustus said, “All of us have to answer for what did over there--can’t get away from it.”
Heinrich suddenly found himself surrounded by Chaw Thai insurgents, wearing bamboo hats and ragged clothes. They aimed their machine guns at him.
“No,” Heinrich pleaded, “Augustus, please.”
Augustus remained cold. “He retains that is anger forever because he delights in mercy. He will turn again. He will have compassion on us. He will subdue our inequities and he will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. It’s all right, Heinrich. It’s all over now.”
The Chaw Thai opened fire.
X-Division, Constantinople – October 4, 1994, 9:00 AM
“The victim’s name was Heinrich Willig,” Pavel said, pointing to a photo of Heinrich’s body, “Unemployed and lived on disability. Police found no indication of force entry of struggle, no abrasions or contusions on the body and cause of death is being listed as a burst aneurysm.”
“So, why did your friend from homicide call us?” Anders asked.
“Because the medical examiner called him,” Pavel said, “The autopsy revealed forty-three small internal hemorrhages and skeletal fragments which doesn’t just happen spontaneously. Not without some corresponding external trauma.”
“So what does the ME have to say about it?” Anders asked.
“He said if he didn’t know otherwise, he would swear they were gunshot wounds,” Pavel said.
Anders pointed at a scar on Heinrich’s neck. “What’s this scar right here?”
“According to his medical history, the only surgery he ever had was an appendectomy,” Pavel said.
“Well, unless they got to his appendix through his neck,” Anders said, “I’m not sure even Angie could do that.”
“Maybe it happened during ‘am,” Pavel said, “Willig did a tour in 1970, and I’m sure they didn’t keep the best of records. Maybe ask Director Hansen?”
“Willig was an Imperial Marine?” Anders said. “So where do all Marines receive basic training in western Germania?”
Pavel pointed at a map of Stuttgart. “Here. The Marines built a training camp near an old Angeloi military base.”
“Where Gerhard was stationed from 1968 to 1971,” Anders said, “I recognize that name.”
“Which means that he and Willig were there at the same time, 24 years ago,” Pavel said.
“Here we go,” Anders said, “Willig was assigned to Special Forces on Recon squad J-7. Of thirteen original members, he’s one of two survivors.”
“Until yesterday,” Pavel said.
“This leaves us with one person who can tell us what happened at that facility,” Anders said.
Bureau of Veterans’ Affairs Sleep Disorder Clinic, Stuttgart – 3:00 PM
“I’ve been supervising Herr Kurt’s treatment since I admitted him twelve years ago,” the doctor said, “‘Fraid you won’t find him very cooperative, though.”
“We just want to ask him a few questions about his military service,” Anders said.
“He doesn’t respond very well to authority figures,” the doctor said.
“Is that why you put him in isolation?” Anders said.
“Oh, we’ve had to house Herr Kurt in this section of the ward because he kept interfering with our treatment of the other patients,” the doctor said.
“How was he interfering?” Anders asked.
“He was disrupting their sleep patterns,” the doctor said, “Psychiatric patients especially, it’s critical that the Circadian cycles be strictly maintained. . .”
“Excuse me, but exactly how would Kurt disrupt their sleep?” Anders asked.
The doctor, realizing he said too much, tried changing the subject. “Here we are. Herr Kurt, there are some gentlemen here to. . .”
However, the cell was empty. A receptionist walked up to the doctor.
“You discharged him just a few days ago,” he said.
“I most certainly did not,” the doctor said, “Don’t you think I would remember if I did.”
“Well, I was on shift, ma’am,” the receptionist said, holding up a clipboard, “You signed the order yourself. That’s your signature there, isn’t it?”
The doctor stared at the clipboard. “WHAT?!”
“Let’s get Kurt’s face onto the wire,” Anders said, just as his phone rang.
Stepping away from the doctor, he answered his phone. “Angie, aren’t you supposed to be electrocuting a—”
“Herr Humboldt,” the mysterious contact said, “I have obtained some information that may shed some light on your current work. You must exercise discretion when we meet at [REDACTED] in Frankfurt. If anyone follows you, with or without your knowledge, I won’t be there.”
Abandoned warehouse, Frankfurt – 3:15 PM
Anders walked into the dark warehouse. A man stepped out of the shadows behind a row of large shipping containers. He looked Middle Eastern, but Anders couldn’t tell in the low lighting and with his Panama hat, sunglasses, and trench coat. His outfit was almost exactly like Hans’.
“Who are you?” Anders asked. “Did Uncle Hans send you? I mean, you have the wardrobe.”
“Who I am is irrelevant,” the man said, “But for convenience, you may call me X.”
“Why are you trying to help me?” Anders asked.
“You think I want to be here, Agent Humboldt?” X said, handing Anders a file. “I don’t want to be here.”
“What is this?” Anders asked.
“Data from a top secret military project,” X said, “A forerunner of Sentinel. Borne of the idea that sleep was the soldiers greatest enemy.”
“Of course,” Anders said, “Someone was conducting sleep deprivation experiments here.”
“Not deprivation, eradication,” X said.
“Why?” Anders asked.
“Why else?” X said. “To build the ultimate soldier. Sustained wakefulness dulls fear and other senses and heightens aggression. Dulls smell so they don’t have to smell the blood. Dulls hearing so they don’t have to hear the screams. Dulls sight so they see what their commanders want them to see. Sharpens aggression to kill on command, without hesitation. Science had just put a man on the moon. So they looked to science to win a losing war. To create a blindly loyal killing machine.”
“And Willig and Kurt were the lab rats,” Anders said.
“Lab rats with the highest kill ratio in the Imperial Marines,” X added, “4,000 plus confirmed kills for a thirteen man squad.”
“You think Kurt’s behind what’s happening now?” Anders asked.
“I’m not here to do your thinking, Agent Humboldt,” X said, “All I know is Augustus Kurt hasn’t slept in 24 years. There’s someone else you should see. A member of the squad who was reportedly killed in action.”
“I thought Kurt was the last,” Anders said.
“His name is on the envelope,” X said.
“So how do I contact you?” Anders said.
“You don’t,” X said.
“I may still need more,” Anders said.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” X said. “Closing the X-Division, separating you and Hansen was only the beginning. The truth is still out there, but it’s never been more dangerous. The man we both knew paid for that information with his life, a sacrifice I’m not willing to make.”
X disappeared into the shadows.
Frankfurt – 3:30 PM
Anders sat in his car, looking over the file X gave him. He looked up and saw Pavel approaching from around a corner, a frustrated look on his face. He stuffed the file under his seat just as Pavel knocked on his window.
“Where were ya?” he asked. “Someone matching Kurt’s description just robbed a drugstore in Nordend and the place is located under a motel just around the corner.”
Anders unlocked the door, and Pavel got in. “Is he alive?”
“He was when the night man just saw him,” Pavel said, “So where were ya?”
“Long story,” Anders said, “I’ll explain later.”
He drove to Nordend, where he pulled up in front of the hotel and got out. A police officer waited at the front door.
“Detective Himmel?” Pavel said. “I’m Agent Novak, this is Agent Humboldt.”
“I’ve been waiting for you guys,” Himmel said, “I tried holding the swat guys back, but they’re getting a little antsy. For what it’s worth, Kurt didn’t take any money from that drug store, just a bunch of pills.”
Suddenly, they heard three gunshots and a scream. Anders and Pavel immediately ran upstairs, finding two officers lying on the floor, bleeding from their chests. Himmel and several officers ran in after them.
“Inside, NOW!” Pavel shouted to Himmel and the other officers. “Officer down!”
“We got two officers down, request emergency vehicles, immediately,” Himmel said.
Pavel looked at the wounded men. “What’s going on here, Humboldt? These two officers…they shot each other.”