CHAPTER IX

THE REICH

BY BARRY REESE

Trench compulsively tapped his finger on the cafe tabletop, staring at the newspaper spread out before him. Attack on local businessman, assailant on the loose was splashed across the front page in bold letters. There was no mention of the assailant being a member of the shambling undead, of course, but Trench knew that Davies would be back soon enough, continuing his investigation.

"One creature," K'ntu had said with a shake of his head earlier in the morning. "You send one lone creature to deal with this man. Perhaps I was wrong about you.

Perhaps you are not worthy of the Master's grace."

Trench had stood there, not answering the taunts. They burned away at him, but he knew that K'ntu was right. He had underestimated Mr. Davies, it seemed.

"Mr. Trench. I hope I have not kept you waiting."

Trench looked up to see a handsome blond man, dressed in a dapper black suit. The man's ice blue eyes, clear complexion and soft German accent made it all too clear where his heritage lay. "Not at all, Mr. Schmidt. Please take a seat."

The German did so, glancing around the crowded café. They were in the very heart of Atlanta, which still retained much of its Southern charm. A black minstrel sang a song outside, a small hat lying in front of him. A few whites tossed coins in to it, but not many. Across the street, an old man in a tattered Civil War regiment coat ambled by, muttering to himself.

"Interesting taste in meeting places, Mr. Trench. I had hoped for something a bit more… discrete."

"The best hiding place is always the one in plain sight." Trench leaned back in his chair, studying the man before him. Schmidt was a high-ranking member of the Nazi occult department. It was men like him who fed the Fuehrer a steady diet of prophecy and folklore, all proclaiming the eventual success of the German regime. "What did you think of my offer?"

"An intriguing one. As you know, our researchers have been working on the same problem. The location of the tomb is something that we covet very much."

"I made a breakthrough last evening," Trench replied, his words quickening. He was being honest in this, for a vital piece of the translation code had finally slid into place for him. "I think I know exactly where the tomb is located… but I'll need supplies and men, both of which you have in abundance. Fund my expedition and I'll turn over all mystic artifacts… save one. A silver key engraved with a single word, written in Sumerian. That prize is mine."

"Agreed." Schmidt pursed his lips together, making him look a bit prissy. "Of course, you realize that our coffers are not endless. If you fail to deliver on this… we will exact payment in return."

Trench grunted. "I'd expect nothing less." He raised his glass of water, clinking it against the German's. "To a successful partnership."

Lucifer's Cage stories & The Rook © Barry Reese. HTML © Tim Hartin.

[  Home  |  New Cases  |  Case History  |  Cliffhanger Agency  ]

Web Design by Paratime Design