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- Herausgeber: Tektime
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
Blue Flame
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Copyright © 2020 by Robert A Webster
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
Robert A Webster asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
First edition
Part One
1
If you tell a big enough lie and tell it frequently enough, it will be believed
Total devastation surrounded the solitary figure. Bombed-out buildings and semi-submerged wrecks of a decimated fleet were all that remained of a navy that once dominated the oceans. The man stood at the end of a concrete jetty, lost in his thoughts with his hands clasped behind his back. His weary features and silver hair made him appear far older than his fifty-six years as he gazed at the ocean, cursing under his breath. With the rumble of explosions in the distance, he inhaled, filling his lungs with tarnished, salty sea air.
Several hours earlier, the dockside swarmed with military personnel. Throughout the night they had unloaded boxes and crates from trucks, sweating and swearing as they struggled to load them onto a sleek black U-boat by moonlight. Having to run for cover occasionally as the now familiar drone of Merlin engines roared overhead, dropping their deadly payloads around them.
With their job now done, the soldiers, sapped of their strength, murmured as they clambered aboard the trucks and then driven away. The smell of cordite lingered, along with a film of oil and diesel fuel that covered the water’s surface inside the harbour.
The dockside was now quiet, with a few of the U-boat’s crew and a handful of black-uniformed SS officers milling around the gangway.
The senior officer received a call through his portable field telephone and he barked out orders. Activity resumed as SS soldiers with machine guns rounded up the U-boat’s crew and ushered them aboard the vessel, while the senior SS officer and two junior officers remained on the dockside.
The hatches closed and the three SS officers went to the foot of the gangway. A black Mercedes 770-K with darkened windows pulled up beside them and the junior officers opened the vehicle’s doors. They snapped to attention as a man and woman stepped out.
The man ignored the SS soldiers and headed along the jetty. The young officers glanced wide-eyed at each other while the woman spoke to the senior SS officer.
“Let’s leave him for a while, Hans; this could be the last time he will see his beloved country.”
Hans Kruger, the senior SS officer, clicked his heels together and nodded to confirm the woman’s request. They watched the man ranting to himself as he strode up the jetty. Hans then ordered the junior SS officers to escort the woman to join the man on the jetty.
Hans watched them walk a short distance. He then took out his pistol and, hiding it behind his back, marched over to the Mercedes and tapped on the driver’s window. The driver, looking at the grinning SS officer, wound down the window and Hans shot him in the head. Holstering his smoking Luger, Hans then went over to wait at the foot of the gangway.
The man had remained undisturbed until the sound of strident footsteps approaching broke his train of thought as the woman stopped behind him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He smelled her familiar reassuring fragrance as she said in a soft voice, “They’re ready to leave.”
He turned and smiled at the woman. The two young officers who accompanied her snapped to attention, raised an arm in salute, and stared ahead to avoid eye contact with the man, who gazed once more at the hills and countryside surrounding the crater-filled and demolished buildings of the once-great dockyard. The rusted and twisted metallic hulks that strewn around the harbour were the corpses of a once-proud fleet. Tears welled up in his eyes, knowing that he would never return. Composing himself, he walked with the woman by his side. They strode past the escorts, who fell in behind them and marched toward the large black U-boat, moored at the centre of the partly destroyed jetty. The vessel gently rolled from side to side, moved by rippling waves of the gentle spring tide.
The group walked up to the foot of the U-boat’s gangway and stopped in front of Hans.
“Everything set?” the man asked.
Hans snapped to attention, confirming that everything was going according to plan, with the crew detained for now in the forward compartment. The man glanced at the car parked several yards away. He again addressed the officer. “Well done, SS-Oberfüehrer. What about the other matter?” he asked. The officer then removed a photograph from his pocket and handed it to him. He stared at it for a few moments and then gave it to the woman, who, after glancing at the photo, smiled and put the picture in her handbag.
“Very well… Let’s get underway,” said the man and walked up the gangway with the woman at his side. Without turning back, they headed inside the side hatch of the conning tower.
SS-Oberfüehrer Hans Kruger was a tall, well-built man. He had a domineering presence who commanded both respect and fear. Although a commando, his real forte was far more sinister. He only took his orders from two men: his boss, SS-Gruppefüehrer Heinrich Muller, head of the feared Gestapo, and the man who had just entered the U-boat.
Hans remained on the dockside and marched over to the two escort officers.
“You served the Fatherland well. Your families will be proud of you.”
The two young officers stood erect and motionless. Hans removed his Luger from its holster, placed the barrel against the forehead of one young officer, and fired a shot between his eyes, killing him instantly. The other soldier urinated but remained motionless; his eyes squinted under the rim of his black peak cap before his end came.
Hans dragged the lifeless bodies over to the parked car one at a time, dumping them onto the back seat. He removed a container of diesel from the car’s boot and doused the flammable mix over the corpses and the car. He stood back and threw in a lit match and as the flames spread, Hans strode up the gangway into the vessel.
The U-boat became a hive of activity, as submariners came out of the hatchways and cast off the mooring lines. The Captain and several of his submariners went onto the conning tower bridge, where the Captain gave orders to the deck crew to make ready to shove off. It was a well-orchestrated routine, carried out and performed many times by this experienced and battle-hardened crew. The submariners, after completing their tasks, headed back inside the vessel. Having experienced war in all its savagery, the crew ignored the blazing Mercedes as they readied the vessel for sea.
The U-boat slewed away from the jetty, heading toward the mouth of the small port of Farge estuary. The vessel sailed out of the harbour and, like a sleek whale, eased its way into open water.
Apart from the Captain, the conning tower crew went below decks. Korvettenkapitän Karl Viktor watched as the vessel picked up speed, leaving his country in its wake. An explosion echoed from the jetty as the diesel ignited the Mercedes fuel tank, blowing it and its dead occupants to smithereens.
Captain Viktor stroked the black rubber coating of the conning bridge and listened to the battery banks whirring as they reached 17 knots. He watched the bow as the sleek vessel cut through the water, and he looked back in anger at the land and black plumes of smoke in the distance. Hearing the rumble of explosions as the Allies pounded the nearby town, he thought, ‘this is truly a magnificent vessel. With a fleet of these *Elektroboote’s we could have won the war.’
He took off his cap to let the sea breeze blow across his head and looked at the gauges.
“Seven fathoms, sir,” said the Dive Officer over the intercom.
“Very well…Prepare to dive the boat and level out at four metres,” ordered the Captain.
“Yes sir,” said the Dive Officer and repeated the order to the control crew.
“Open main vents, rig out bow planes, and set down ten degrees,” ordered the Captain.
A sudden bustle of motion signalled the crew’s compliance.
“Bow planes set, sir,” confirmed the Dive Officer.
The Captain then gave the order.
“Dive the boat!”
Sirens wailed to alert the occupants that the U-boat was submerging. With plumes of water whooshing out of the ballast tanks, the Captain left the conning tower, closed the hatch behind him, and went down into the hot, cramped control room. He realised that they were transporting human cargo along with looted treasure, but unsure of whom.
The Captain hung on to the periscope until the U-Boat levelled off at four metres and then he went to check the gauges.
Hans came into the control room, sneering, as he smelled sweat and grease in the noisy confined section, he handed the Captain a sealed envelope.
“Here are your orders!” he snapped as the Captain opened the envelope and read its contents.
“It’s signed by the Füehrer,” said Hans, glaring at the Captain, who after reading his instructions knew that his vessel would no longer have any contact with the outside world.
The war-weary commander looked at Hans and then gave orders to the control room crew.
“Helmsman, starboard 15, steer 3-5-Zero. Down planes ten degrees, make our depth 15 metres.”
The helmsman repeated the order aloud and eased forward on the helm control.
The Captain smirked as Kruger lost his balance and grabbed onto a hot metal pipe, wincing as the boat made a gentle descent. Captain Viktor went to the U-boat’s intercom and ordered all officers’ to the wardroom. He went to his chart table, took out charts of their destination, and he and Hans Kruger left the control room, passing two SS soldiers in the communications cabin removing the U-boats radio.
The Elektroboote angled down, gliding under the cold grey North Sea.
*In Appendix
Type XX’s U-boats were also known as Elektroboote and the first submarines designed to operate entirely submerged.
2
If you want to shine like the sun, first you have to burn like it.
Ryan rushed over, shook the Keeper’s shoulders, and looking into his glazed eyes, yelled, “Church, Church… are you okay?”
Church squinted at Ryan and then around the room. He wiped vomit from around his mouth with his hand as his faculties returned. Composing himself, but appearing unaware of his surroundings, he put his cluttered desk in order.
Ryan stood back and watched as colour returned to Church’s ashen face and he stopped trembling. When Church appeared to be back to his normal self, Ryan said, “That was a powerful one boss. Pinky and I felt it in the living room.”
Church coughed as he focused on Ryan, and with a quake in his voice, replied, “That was the worst experience and the most powerful spirit that I have ever encountered.”
Ryan frowned as he glared at the mess in the portal room, “Who was it?” he asked.
The answer never came. The door swung open and a woman in her twenties with short blonde hair entered the room carrying two mugs. She went over to Church and Ryan.
“Are you okay, Church?” Pinky asked, sounding concerned as she handed both men a mug of tea and said, “Here drink this.”
“Thanks, but I need something stronger than tea, Pinky,” said Church, his hands trembling as he took the mug.
“I know, so I put a drop of Johnny Walker in it,” Pinky replied and smiled.
“Great!” exclaimed Ryan, who after slurping his tea winced
“Duh, not for you dopey,” said Pinky and chuckled. She then saw something in the corner of the room and gasped.
Church took a drink of his beverage. He felt the whisky hitting the back of his throat and caressing his oesophagus as it eased down, giving him a warm glow. Church exhaled, picked up his notepad, glanced at it, and then replaced it on the desk. Ryan picked up the pad.
Pinky went to the sink, brought over a damp flannel, and wiped Church’s face, while Ryan looked at Church’s notes and scratched his chin.
The PATH team gathered around Church’s desk with items strewn about the top, resembling the aftermath of a drunken Saturday night brawl.
After clearing his throat, Church said, “Right, team. It looks like we have our next assignment.”
Church righted his overturned laptop, checked it was okay, turned it on, and entered a password.
“Look, it scorched the wall,” said Pinky, pointing to the corner wall. “And looking at you boss, it did more than that, you look terrified. We knew it was serious after the air got cold before it felt sucked out of the living room,” she said, scowling.
“So who was it?” Ryan asked, and smirked, adding, “Ooh, is there lots of lovely treasure to be had, and why did you write your spirit notes in German? I can’t understand them.”
“Anybody we know?” Pinky asked.
“Granny Pearl never came, did she? I can’t smell Brussels sprouts,” said Ryan and then looked confused, “I can’t smell anything.”
Church took another slurp of his drink and with a quake in his voice said, “No Ryan, you won’t smell anything with this spirit.” He shuddered, took a deep breath, and continued, “And to answer your questions, then Yes, I imagine there’s a great deal of treasure, and no, Granny Pearl never appeared and that’s what’s scares me.”
Church leaned forward and typed on the laptop keypad.
“And the answers to your other question.” Church quivered, and said, “This individual was German, and do we know him? Oh, most definitely.”
Church paused as a face appeared on his laptop screen. He turned the computer screen around so that Ryan and Pinky could view the image and continued, “We all know of him. The entire world knew this character, who, according to Grandpa Jack was a bloody menace.”
Pinky and Ryan’ gasped when they stared at the image on the screen.
Church frowned and announced, “I can sense you both feel troubled. I am scared after my encounter with this powerful spirit.” Pinky and Ryan heard the nervousness in Church’s voice as they glared at the image in disbelief while Church studied his notes and scribbled certain portions of his text in English on another notepad. Ryan broke the silence.
“I don’t understand boss, why now?” He pointed to the screen and continued. “He’s been dead for over 60 years.”
Church looked up from his notes, leaned forward and said, “It was not only the fact of whom or what this individual was that worries me.” He tapped the face on the screen and continued, “We also need to be concerned about the recipient.”
Church slid his notepad over and showed a name he had circled on his notes to the inquisitive Pinky and Ryan.
There was a stunned silence as Pinky and Ryan stared at the screen and the name on the notepad.
Pinky leant forward, pointed at the screen, and asked, “What’s the connection and how was that possible?”
“I don’t know, that’s what we need to find out,” said Church tapping his fingers on the desk.
Church then frowned and through pierced lips told them, “This was not the first time one of these demons came to this portal.” Still shaking, he glanced at the pentagram painted on the wooden floor in the corner of the room and said, “I know of an encounter we had with a Diabolus at our portal centuries ago and a more recent encounter with another Diabolus in the spirit world years ago, which I believe was the same one that I just met.”
Puzzled, Ryan frowned and asked, “What’s a Diabolus?”
“I will explain later,” said Church, who went to the safe, took out a thick ancient leather-bound book, came back over, and placed it on the desk. “Let me decipher all my notes and read the journal again,” said Church, opening the book and searching through the brittle pages for the relevant section.
“I am not happy with this one, boss. Something doesn’t feel right. Do we have to take the assignment?” Ryan asked, fidgeting and looking at Pinky.
“Perhaps a cheese and ham sandwich would help,” smiled Pinky, trying to lighten the mood, knowing that Ryan would do anything if the reward involved food.
“Oh, well why didn’t you say that before?” chuckled Ryan, “When do we start?” he asked, with nervousness he tried to disguise.
Church looked at his team. After this powerful encounter and knowing what it was, he felt scared. He knew from the journal the dangers of any encounter with a Diabolus, and after what he’d just experienced, did not want to put them in harm’s way. Even though they looked calm, Church sensed fear in the pair and realised that none of them were ready for an assignment of this magnitude. He closed the book, leant on the desk, smiled, and announced, “Okay, we won’t take this case.”
“Phew,” Pinky sighed with relief.
Although pleased with Church’s decision, Ryan had a niggling doubt and asked, “Can we do that?”
Church reply never came, as a flickering blue flame filled the corner of the room along with a familiar aroma and, sniffing the air, Ryan announced. “I smell Brussels sprouts, Granny Pearl’s here.”
3
Things are not always right because they are hard, but if they are right one must not mind if they are also hard.
The PATH team lived in a 16th Century thatched-roofed cottage built in a clearing within a dense woodland area of Clifton Moor, close to York city. This secluded cottage belonged to Churchill Potts junior, who inherited it from his grandparents, Pearl and Jack Potts. The cottage had been in the Potts family for generations and although this quaint old cottage appeared like something from a Brothers Grimm folktale; it held a remarkable secret.
During the mid-sixteenth century, a wealthy Englishman, Robert Potts, had the cottage built at a specific secluded location. This was ideal for Robert and his family and perfect for the inhabitants of the surrounding towns and villages. The townsfolk felt certain Robert was a Warlock, so the further away he was, the better.
With England in turmoil after the civil war ended and after they beheaded Charles I, a Cromwell-controlled protectorate government, one with deep puritanical beliefs, now ran the country. The English people felt terrified and confused. This fear paved the way for a government-backed religious crusade to rid the country of those considered heretics, so witches and warlocks became an indoctrinated terror. This fear led to the formation of the ‘Witch Finders.’ These individuals scoured the country on high government salaries, flushing out evil forces that allegedly manifested into human form.
Robert was from a wealthy and respectable family. He had fought during the English civil war as an infantry officer in Oliver Cromwell’s Roundheads. His father was a minister at York Abbey, and after witnessing many bloody battles, Robert knew he wanted to follow his father’s example and serve God within the clergy. He returned to York after the war ended when he was seventeen. His father used his influence to push his son through the ranks to a junior ministerial position within York Abbey. Robert had suffered headaches throughout his childhood and heard incoherent voices when nobody was there, especially on the battlefield. Unable to understand why, and afraid to seek advice for fear of being accused of being cursed, he ignored it. Robert was a handsome young man but his ashen complexion gave him a ghostly appearance.
Everything changed on his eighteenth birthday when his headaches became severe and the voices became louder, although still a myriad of sounds, he heard cries for help and could sense despair. Everybody now seemed bathed in a white light, apart from him, who glowed with the colours of the rainbow. This terrified Robert and convinced he was a warlock, feared for his life. Robert altered overnight, becoming reclusive and no longer attending the clergy or fulfilled his duties, spending his time in his room alone which disturbed his respectable parents.
Robert went out most evenings, strolling along smoggy, cobbled city streets of York, amongst the hustle and bustle of street vendors, entertainers, and taverns. Although different from his sheltered religious upbringing, the streets seemed to beckon him. He knew he would find something there, but did not know what.
It was on one of these nightly excursions when he met Elizabeth cooking at a small street vendor’s stall,
“Can I tempt you to some lovely tripe and onions, Robert?” She smiled.
“What!” exclaimed Robert, taken aback how she knew his name, as he had never laid eyes on the girl before. Robert saw a crimson aura surrounding her and realised that she was also different.
Robert returned to her stall every night to see the pretty brunette with rosy cheeks that seemed to glow against her pale skin. Elizabeth instigated the courtship and asked him to take her out, which in those days was unheard of, and she could have ended up in prison or far worse. Robert became intrigued and besotted with Elizabeth, who was almost 19-years-old.
“We are special my love.” She’d told Robert. “We are Chosen-ones, and when we find our portal, thou will be the Keeper, and I will be thy Guide.”
This always confused Robert, but he accepted her strange behaviour because he was in love and wanted to marry Elizabeth. His parents wouldn’t give their consent to this union until Robert announced Elizabeth was pregnant. His parent, although outraged, went ahead with the marriage with it being inconceivable to have a child out of wedlock. Not only would it have destroyed the family’s reputation but also they didn’t want to upset Robert’s uncle, as this man terrified people. His uncle was Mathew Hopkins, known throughout England as the Witch Finder General. Robert and Elizabeth married straight away and lived in a cobblestone cottage on his parent’s estate.
Elizabeth, now seven months pregnant, looked radiant, and Robert looked forward to the birth of their first child.
One evening as the pair chatted by candlelight, Robert felt a sharp pain in his head. Elizabeth, knowing of the headaches, reassured him they would go when the time was right, explaining that she too used to get them, and it was only restless spirits trying to contact him.
“They get worse,” said Robert groaning and glancing over at his wife, who appeared to be talking into a large flickering blue flame by the wall.”
After squinting through the pain for a few minutes, his headache stopped and he looked at Elizabeth smiling at him.
He looked at the wall, but the flame had gone and feeling bewildered he looked at his wife, whose crimson aura now had a faint multi-coloured glow surrounding her stomach.
“My love, I must go,” said Elizabeth.
“What?” asked Robert, taken aback, “Go where?”
“I need to prepare for our eternal task ahead.” She said, with calmness in her voice.
Robert stammered, “I don’t understand. Thou art my wife and I forbid thee to go anywhere. What about our child?”
“Goodbye my love, don’t worry, I will see thee soon, and we will all be together,” said Elizabeth, who smiled and closed her eyes,
“What’s happening? Elizabeth, open thy eyes, I want to talk to thee,” said Robert, frowning.
Elizabeth’s body juddered and then convulsed.
“Elizabeth, Elizabeth!” shouted Robert. His eyes widened as he rushed over to his wife as her crimson aura faded.
It took over an hour for a doctor and midwife to arrive on horseback and looked at each other in astonishment when the midwife delivered a healthy baby boy from Elizabeth’s body.
Elizabeth’s death devastated Robert. He spent days and sometimes weeks in bed, ignoring everyone. He never acknowledged his son, refusing to give the child a name and blaming the infant of killing his beloved Elizabeth.
Several years passed and the reclusive Robert stayed alone in his cottage while his parents raised his son, who they named him William.
Late one night while Robert lay in bed watching the candle flicker, staring as the flames went through their nightly dance. He rubbed his temples, “Argh, damn these headaches,” he said aloud.
Closing his eyes as the pain intensified, he smelt Tripe and Onions. Robert felt confused as a large flickering blue flame appeared by the side of the candle with a crimson apparition swirling at its centre. Robert sat up in bed and stared wide-eyed at the light, which got brighter. Then a familiar voice said, “Robert, my love, I haven’t got long to explain. Thee must come and find me and our portal, so we can all be together.”
“Elizabeth” he gasped, startled by the apparition which became clear and he could now see Elizabeth smiling at him.
“I don’t understand. Where art thou? Am I dreaming?” spluttered Robert.
Elizabeth put her arms out and repeated, “My love, thee must come and find me and our portal. It is close by.”
Robert looked agog as the apparition faded, but he felt euphoric and no longer in pain.
After his contact with Elizabeth’s spirit and although he thought it was a dream, Robert knew that he needed to find the portal that Elizabeth told him about, praying that if he found it, he would see her again. He scoured the Yorkshire countryside on horseback for several weeks.
One warm clear night, he came across a large circular clearing within a dense forest area of Clifton Moor. The large patch of ground seemed out of place amongst the woodland, but Robert felt drawn to this area and dismounted. Robert led his horse out of the woods and went over to the circular area. He saw rocks assembled in neat rows around the circle, with a large scorched area in its centre.
Robert cringed, ‘A witch’s coven,’ he thought, ‘Damn, I did not know witches were in this area?’
He turned around, grabbed the horse’s reins, and as he placed his foot in the stirrup, a sharp pain shot through his head.
‘Argh, not now,’ he thought, as the pain intensified.
“Robert, Robert!” said a familiar voice behind him. He removed his foot from the stirrup and swung around.
In the centre of the circle, a vivid blue flame flickered around a figure bathed in a crimson glow. Although unable to make out any distinctive features, he recognised the voice. He dropped to his knees and stared into the light.
“Elizabeth, Elizabeth,” he wailed.
“Robert, thee has found our home,” said Elizabeth, with her soothing voice comforting Robert, and the pain in his head stopped as she continued. “I have a lot to teach thee my love, but first, thee must build protection around our portal and bring our son to make our family complete.”
Robert gazed into the portal feeling euphoric. He saw Elizabeth’s shimmering apparition and went over to the portal and she warned him. “Do not enter the portal my love.”
Robert stopped and gazed at his wife. In a dreamy daze, he looked at his body now glowing with colours, and as he gazed at his hands, he screamed “But how? What is this sorcery? I am cursed.”
Elizabeth giggled and said, “Thou art not cursed my husband, what thee is seeing is thy aura.”
Elizabeth explained a little over the next hour, and Robert, with his new understanding, left the portal to start with his task ahead.
Over the next few months, Robert worked tirelessly. With his parents’ money and a few overpaid builders from the nearby town, he built a thatched-roofed cottage on the patch of land surrounding the portal. Robert designed the cottage so the portal would appear in a corner of a room on the ground floor, which would be his bedroom. Even though his parents were concerned about Williams’s safety, they allowed Robert to take his son. Robert and William moved into the cottage and the three of them lived there undisturbed.
The Potts reared livestock and grew fruits and vegetables, which kept them isolated from the outside world. Elizabeth’s spirit taught Robert about the world she now inhabited. She explained about the *Gift and advised him how to use his Keeper’s power wisely to protect the portal and help lost souls enter the afterlife. Robert then taught his son and William grew up believing that it was normal for his father to speak to an area of his bedroom, and, even though he saw nothing, he believed his father when said he was speaking with his mother. Robert schooled him, and they worked and lived off their land. Robert walked to Radcliff town several times a month for supplies. The townsfolk were always suspicious and afraid of the Potts family. However, knowing who Robert’s uncle was, they did not want to risk their being accused of sorcery and burned at the stake, so they ignored the Potts.
William first encountered his mother on his 18th birthday. He was reading a manuscript by candlelight on a chilly winter’s evening when he felt a sharp pain in his head. He screamed as he saw multi-coloured lights envelop him and he rushed into his father’s bedroom.
“Father, Father, look at my body, it …”
William gasped and stood in awe at the sight in front of him as a warm blue flame filled the corner of the room, with a shimmering crimson figure at its centre.
He couldn’t make out any features, however, he felt euphoric, and the pain in his head went, leaving just a warm narcotic feeling. His father stood to the side of the blue flame and, with his multi-coloured aura radiating, he smiled and announced, “William, meet thy mother.”
Over the next few years, they lived as a complete, although strange, family.
Elizabeth instructed William to find a wife who would be his Guide when he was twenty-one-years-old. She told him that it was time for his joining and said where he would find his Chosen-one.
William found his Guide, a girl named Rebecca. She was 16, and in jail in the village of Woodford awaiting trial for witchcraft. He instantly fell in love with her and using his elderly uncle’s influence had Rebecca released. Rebecca and William married and she moved into the Potts cottage where shortly after they had a daughter who was a Keeper.
Robert died at 65-years-old. His and Elizabeth’s spirits continued to teach William until he and Rebecca died. Elizabeth and Robert went to the afterlife while William and Rebecca’s spirits taught their children and grandchildren, continuing with the bloodline throughout the ages.
Centuries passed, with roads now built around the area of the Potts secluded thatched-roofed cottage.
The portals previous Keeper and Guide, Jack and Pearl Potts, had not updated the cottage for many years and had remained reclusive during their lives there, preferring to keep away from the towns populous. Pearl, the Keeper, was a cheerful woman with many friends, although very few in the mortal world. Jack, the Guide, on the other hand, was a grumpy old sod, who grumbled most of the time.
Church’s father, Churchill Potts senior, never acquired the gift, so when he was 17-years-old he joined the army, where he met and married June, a civilian teacher at his barracks. They distanced themselves from Pearl and Jack as their weird ways scared June. They moved into a modern detached house in York city centre, where their only son was born in 1965. They named him Churchill, the same as his father, who his father, Jack, had named him after his hero Winston Churchill, so Churchill senior also gave the odd name to his son.
Pearl and Jack had no contact with Churchill senior or June for many years but went to the hospital when June was in labour. Pearl told her son that her grandson would have the gift, and it would be powerful. Churchill Senior didn’t want to know and was uninterested.
Several years later Jack passed away. Churchill senior, not wanting to lose his inheritance, reunited Pearl with his family.
Church’s childhood was far from normal, spending his weekends with his grandmother Pearl at her old cottage. Granny Pearl lived alone after Jack passed away, although she told Church that she spoke to Jack every night and he would one day meet his grandpa Jack. Church grew close to his grandmother and loved spending weekends and holidays at the cottage, although it always smelled of Brussels sprouts. It felt comfortable and homely to Church, who went to primary school in York but found it difficult to make friends with the other kids wary of his strange behaviour. Granny Pearl had told him that he had a special gift and although he considered this special gift a pain in the arse, he preferred to spend time with her as opposed to other kids. The countryside surrounding the cottage was picturesque and alive with wildlife going about their daily ramblings. It was a grand adventure for a curious, solitary little boy.
Young Church could not understand why he was different. His blinding headaches, voices, and pallid complexion gave his teachers cause for concern, and they pressured his parents to seek help. Churchill senior and June persuaded them that he had a hereditary disorder and that it was nothing to worry about, they now distanced themselves from Church.
Granny Pearl died when Church was fifteen-years-old and bequeathed the cottage to him for his 18th birthday. He felt lonely without Granny Pearl, but she had told him that he would see her again and for reasons unbeknownst to him, he believed her.
Pearl left strict instructions the cottage remained sealed until then, and only when Church moved in, would his parents get their inheritance.
When Granny Pearl died, the lawyer from Mason & Mason, an old family lawyer for Pearl and Jack, gave Church an ancient key on a silver chain and told him to keep it safe until his eighteenth birthday. Church hung the key chain around his neck.
During the eighties, while the other kids grew up around discotheques and Duran-Duran, Church, stayed home alone, with his strange erratic behaviour making him an outcast.
Church finished school when he was 16 with no ambitions or future direction. His mother and father accepted this and ignored him as he rarely left his room. On the eve of his 18th birthday, Church’s life changed and he awoke with a sharp pain in his temples. He had never experienced such intense pain. He sat up in bed, squeezed his hand against his head, and through the pain noticed a vivid column of blue flame. His pain subsided and he stared at the plume as it increased in size. Something else illuminated his senses; the familiar smell of Brussels sprouts. He watched in awe as the myriad of colours took shape. An unfocused human bathed in multi-coloured flames formed within the centre of the column and a familiar voice that he had not heard for three years, said, “Hello Churchill, you have grown. I don’t have long to talk and I know you feel confused, but when you move into the cottage, all will become clear. I have a lot to teach you.”
“Granny Pearl.” he stammered as the figure became clearer.
“Yes Church, and you have nothing to worry about, your life will be better from now on.”
The figure then faded along with the blue flame; leaving Church bewildered but feeling euphoric. Smiling, he drifted into a blissful slumber.
Churchill senior phoned Mason & Mason solicitors to confirm his son was moving in the following day and wanted his inheritance. The lawyer informed him that it was somewhere in the house and that young Church would know where it was when they got there.
The following morning, Church’s parents woke him early and drove him to the cottage, eager to find their inheritance and settle Church into his new home. Churchill senior had seen his father bringing in small valuable items into the cottage when he was a child and Jack had always told him that one day the Potts treasure would be his.
Church smiled during the brief journey and thought of the fond memories he had of the small thatched-roofed cottage and happy about being able to live there alone. With his parents ignoring him over the past few years he’d become a recluse, but as they approached the cottage, he had a strange feeling he would not be alone for long.
The car pulled up and Church felt the fresh crisp country air of his surroundings on his face. Churchill senior struggled with the old lock and after cursing and grunting, he shoved the door open and they went inside.
“It smells musty,” June grumbled.
Church smelt something else and smiled.
With the cottage sealed and furnishings covered, it had remained in good condition. The Potts removed the cloths and June rushed around and gave the downstairs a cursory clean. The electrical switches and appliances, although archaic, were in working order. Churchill senior arranged for the power supply reconnected and when Jack was alive he had plumbed in a system of pipes from the outside well into the house, so Church had power and fresh running water.
Church looked around smiling; he knew every part of this cottage. Except for one room that Granny Pearl kept locked, he had played around every other part of the cottage as a child.
Churchill senior and June looked anxious, so after June put food and other stuff she had brought with them in the cupboards, his father said,
“Okay son, we want to get back to York, The lawyer said you know where our inheritance was, so if you would give us that, we can be on our way, and we will see you later.”
Church looked puzzled and threw up his hands. “I don’t know where it is?” He said.
His parents glared at him; Church senior sighed and said, “That solicitor’s an idiot and it’s just like mum to give us the run-around. Oh well, I imagine that it is around here somewhere. I suppose we better search.”
“This place gives me the creeps, so I will look outside.” Said June and rushed out.
“I’ll go look upstairs, you look down here,” said Churchill senior.
Church wandered around and felt drawn to the room on the ground floor that Granny Pearl had always kept locked. When young Church had asked why she had always told him it was her and Grandpa Jack’s special room that he could not go in… yet.
Church went over, turned the knob, and opened the door.
He gasped upon entering the room as a vivid blue flame flickered at the centre of the pentagram, with its light filling the corner of the room, and two shimmering apparitions at its centre, one glowed crimson, the other multi-coloured, and the familiar aroma of Brussels sprouts wafted around the room, along with a faint trace of Brylcreem.
“Happy birthday young Churchill,” said a man’s voice, followed by a familiar woman’s voice, “Churchill, meet your Grandpa, Jack.”
Church giggled and said, “Hello Grandpa Jack, and Granny Pearl… Fancy meeting you here.”
Both spirits chuckled. Granny Pearl then said. “Happy birthday Church; we can talk later, but for now, let’s make your parents happy so they will leave and we can begin your tutoring.”
“Your dad always was a greedy, money-grabbing little sod,” interrupted Jack.
“Be quiet Jack, we have to help Church.” Pearl curtly replied.
“You must have been secretly seeing the bloody milkman. Certainly no son of mine,” grumbled Jack.
“Shush stupid,” snapped Pearl. Church looked on at this exchange between the two spirits and chuckled. He knew his life would now change for the better.
Pearl gave Church directions to an area outside the cottage and told him that he would find a chest buried there containing various items. She instructed him on what to give his parents and what he must keep.
Church left the portal room and called his father downstairs. Although he and his father had never spoken about his gift, Churchill senior was aware his parents were different. He also knew his son was different and had the gift, so it did not surprise him when he said that Pearl had told him where she buried their inheritance.
“Okay son. Let’s go find it, but say nothing to June about your grandmother’s ghost.”
Church and his parents found the spot under a large, gnarled oak tree root, marked by a Cross and Rose symbol scorched into the ground. Church dug up an ancient chest, took the ancient key and chain from around his neck, and opened the lock.
The old lid creaked open, and they all peered inside.
Churchill senior and June smiled.
The chest contained various items of gold and silver jewellery adorned with rough-cut precious stones, along with gold coins and ingots.
Churchill senior grinned as he picked up a coin dating back to the 16th century, while June picked up a bejewelled necklace and put it against her neck, getting the nod of approval from her husband.
Church was more interested in an old leather-bound journal he saw at the bottom.
They took the chest into the cottage and laid it on the kitchen table. While June fetched a cold box from the car containing sandwiches and cakes she had brought along, Churchill senior loaded items from the chest into a duffel bag.
Church removed the book and glanced within the pages, made from varying materials, from old parchment to typing paper. The journal, compiled over the centuries by different authors, with the later entries put in by his grandmother, who he knew had an old typewriter.
Once the box was empty, Church locked it and replaced the key around his neck as Pearl had instructed. He placed the chest into an old cupboard in the scullery.
After eating the sandwiches and cakes, Churchill senior announced, “Okay son we will leave you to settle in and until you have a phone installed, I will visit once a week and bring you fresh supplies.”
Church knew they were impatient to leave and go to value and sell their inheritance. “Thanks dad,” he said, happy they were leaving.
“Will you be alright Churchill? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” said June, sounding concerned.
“I will be fine mum,” Church replied and smiled.
“He’ll be okay, come on let’s go June. We have a lot to do,” said Churchill senior heading for the door.
His parents drove away looking delighted with their newfound wealth.
With his parents gone, Church went to the portal room to learn about the family business.
4
For there is one thing we must never forget; the majority can never replace the man.
The year was 1945. Magnificent buildings that once stood proudly in the opulent city of Berlin now lay in rubble, decimated by an angry world hell-bent on exacting revenge by annihilating the city and making German people atone for the atrocities committed by their country over the past few years.
Although spring was in the air, no aromas of freshly mown grass and fragrant flowers carried on the warm breeze. Instead, the overpowering smells of cordite, napalm, and the vile stench from the charred, rotting corpses, which lay strewn amongst the rubble-filled graveyard of the city.
With World War 2 almost over and while the demoralised German people came to terms with an uncertain future, the leaders of this fallen nation were now deep within a bunker, planning their next and final atrocity.
Located fifty feet beneath the once picturesque Gardens of the Reichskanzlei chancellery building, there was a large concrete and steel bunker. Within the bunker, several sections built to protect the occupants from the Allied bombing blitz. Inside the bunker gathered a group of men, which included several military figures and a few civilians. They gathered around a large table while their leader screamed at them, and by their nervous expressions, they were terrified of this individual.
Adolf Hitler looked furious as he glared at his War Cabinet and senior officials of his Nazi Party, in a large plush conference room within the ‘Führerbunker.’
Hitler pounded his fist onto the desk and hunched over the table with rage in his eyes.
“Because of your incompetence, we are losing this war,” he hollered.
He looked into each face around him, giving them all an icy-cold stare. His steely eyes burrowed into their souls. He composed himself, inhaled, swept his fringe away from his forehead, glared at General Wilhelm Kietel, and said, “Kietel, give me some good news.”
Kietel’s hands shook as he organised charts on the desk, and with a quiver in his voice said, “My Füehrer, I have no good news. The American, European, and Russian forces will be in Berlin by next week.”
Again incensed, Hitler shouted obscenities and accusations of treason at the General, who hung his head looking embarrassed and afraid.
Hitler then focused his attention on a large man dressed in a white uniform.
He asked Herman Goering, “What about our beloved Luftwaffe?”
“Füehrer, we only have a few planes and pilots remaining, although we…”
“Silence!” Hitler commanded. Outraged, he struck the table hard again.
“I suppose our great fleet is also finished.” He glared at Admiral Raeder, who nodded and replied, “We are still fighting Füehrer, but we are taking heavy losses from the enemy.”
Hitler remained silent for a few moments and then addressed the group. “We must regroup and win this war. Our enemy is inferior to us.” He continued with his orders. “Hienrich, you and the S.S., along with Walter and Alfred, round up anyone who can carry a weapon, old men or young boys, and get them to defend their fatherland.”
Hienrich Himmler, Field Marshal Walter Von Brauchitsch and General Alfred Jodl clicked their heels in salute. “At once Füehrer,” They said, confirming that they would carry out Hitler’s order, although they realised the futility.
Hitler leant over the table, sighed, and lowered his head. The others noticed his hands shaking as he mumbled to himself.
“My Füehrer; we must get you out of Germany,” said Max Amann, a senior Nazi Party official. “We have false Red Cross papers for you and Eva with an escape route planned. We can…”
Hitler looked up, giving Amann a cold stare, stopping him in mid-speech.
“Do you mean a *Ratline, Max?” He asked.
“Yes, my Füehrer, we planned one for you,” Max stammered, looking nervous.
“Do you think of your Füehrer as a rat Max?” said Hitler, sounding calm.
“No Füehrer, I am concerned about…”
“Your concerns do not interest me, Amann!” Hitler yelled interrupting Amann, who hung his head and looked at the floor as the tempo in Hitler’s voice reached a crescendo. He again slapped the desk hard and returned to staring at the individuals, screaming, “I will never leave my beloved Germany. Only you fools think this war is lost. I am the German people, and I will have victory. We cannot be defeated. We are the superior race, and I am your Füehrer. There will be no surrender or escape for anyone.” He stood silent for a moment and looked at certain individuals, who nodded as his gaze fell upon them. He then bellowed, “Do I make myself clear? No escape and no surrender… Now get out of my sight.”
He slouched again over the table as some of the men left the room ignored by Hitler.
Several men remained behind, unnoticed by the others who left with their heads lowered, avoiding Hitler’s gaze, and wrath.
Two guards closed the large doors behind the last man to leave. Hitler looked at the six individuals remaining in the room.
SS – Grupenfüehrer Heinrich Műller - Chief of the Gestapo.
SS- Oberfüehrer Benno Von Arent.
Gross Admiral, Karl Dönitz.
Professor Kurt Gutzieg.
SS – Hauptsurmfüehrer Doctor Josef Mengele, and Professor Hellmuth Walter.
Hitler smiled at the men, and sounding calm, asked, “Has everything been prepared, gentlemen?”
All six raised briefcases, showing the Füehrer. Hitler smiled.
“Excellent,” he said and shouted over to a guard at the door.
A guard marched over to Hitler, giving him a smart ‘hitlergruss.’ Nazi salute.
“Take the Gross Admiral, Doctor Mengele, and the professors to the stateroom and ensure they are granted all necessary comforts,” he ordered, and then spoke to the four, “Karl, Kurt, Hellmuth, Josef, excuse me, we have an important matter to deal with first. I will summon you when ready.”
The four saluted Hitler and followed the guard out of the conference room.
Hitler faced the two remaining SS officers smiled and said, “Heinrich, Benno, we have guests waiting to see us, so let’s retire to more comfortable surroundings.”
He turned and went over to a wall where a large red flag with a white circle and black swastika imprinted on it hung over a doorway. He moved the flag to one side and pushed a section of the wall. A door opened and the three head down a well-lit shaft, with only a gentle buzz, heard from the air filtration units’ battery generators. They walked the short distance along the tunnel, entering through a door into Hitler’s drawing-room.
Another Nazi flag was on the wall and in front of the flag was a large desk, with a telephone on one corner, and a strongbox placed at its centre. The red chest had a swastika symbol painted on each side, with STRENG GEHEIM: BUCH MOSE (TOP SECRET: GENESIS) stencilled across the top.
In the centre of the room, several armchairs were around a large coffee table. The main entrance to Hitler’s drawing-room was from double doors opposite, with two armed SS soldiers stationed outside, and another SS soldier stood by the side of a well-stocked drinks cabinet. The soldier snapped to attention when the party entered the room.
Chandeliers illuminated the room and several art masterpieces adorned each wall. A large, ornate hearth situated to the right of the room with a raging, smokeless coal fire, burning behind a golden antique fire surround and a false York Stone chimney. Despite having powerful air filters and extractors hidden behind the chimney, the room smelt of coal.
Even without windows and natural light, the room resembled an elaborate drawing-room, although it was underground and encased in thick concrete and steel.
Already seated in the room, was a young blonde woman, Hans Kruger, and a small, dark-haired, middle-aged man. They all rose when Hitler entered.
Hitler instructed them all to take a seat and offered them a drink.
“Hans, Erik, Eva,” said Hitler, smiling at those already in the room. He sat on the middle chair, looked at the five and said, “You know why we are here, so let’s get on with it.”
The guard placed drinks on the table beside the men and woman and then left the room.
“Eva, you don’t need to be here for this, so go to your room,” he commanded Eva Braun, who nodded, smiled at the men, took her drink, and left the room.
Gestapo Chief Heinrich Műller removed maps from his case and laid them out on the table and they all leaned over to look.
Hitler pointed to an area marked on the map and asked, “You are sure there are no enemy forces in this area?”
Műller looked at Hitler and replied, “Yes, Füehrer, I am positive. This area has no strategic value or use, so there is no military activity there.”
Hitler looked over at the chisel-jawed Hans Kruger and enquired, “Is everything prepared, Hans?”
Hans Kruger sat upright, staring straight ahead. “Yes my Füehrer, my team is ready and awaiting your order.”
Hitler looked at the map, smiled, and addressed the smaller man, “Erik, you have done well with this find. Are you prepared?”
“Yes, my Füehrer, everything has been taken care of, and our equipment will work,” said the little Jewish man, smirking.
Hitler smiled and asked, “How do you know it will work, Erik? We haven’t been able to test it.”
The small Jewish man pushed his wire-rimmed spectacles further up the bridge of his nose, smiled, and with an air of confidence, said, “I am sure Füehrer,”
This small Jewish man seemed not to hold any fear of the Füehrer, which puzzled the military men in the room. They all had the same lingering doubts about Erik Jan Hanussen. Hitler was a staunch anti-Semitic, so wondered why this Jew was always allowed an immediate audience with Hitler. They knew Erik always stayed close to their Füehrer, who would always listen to his advice, more so than any other of his war chiefs. They could not understand their close relationship and Erik unnerved them all with his sinister, creepy demeanour.
Hitler studied the plans and the markings of a small valley alongside a glacial stream, near the town of Schenkenzell, in the Kinzigtal valley at the edge of the Black Forest. A square grid drawn around an area in the small valley appeared to be a planned excavation site.
“Make sure you don’t slow them down Erik,” said Hitler, who smiled at Erik Jan Hanussen, his ‘Jewish psychic.’ Erik smiled back, and looking nervous, glanced at the large Hans Kruger, Hitler’s Leibstandarte SS, personal bodyguard, and assassin, sitting next to him.
“No my Füehrer, I will try not to.” stammered Erik.
“Kruger, make sure no harm befalls Erik. The third Reich’s continuing existence and future 1,000-year reign rest on your shoulders,” said Hitler, glaring at Hans.
“I will take good care of Herr Jan Hanussen, My Füehrer,” said Hans, smirking at Erik.
“You have your orders, so carry them out. Failure is not an option and will result in your death Hans,” said Hitler, with a menace in his voice.
Hans and Erik stood up and saluted Hitler. Hans marched out of the room with Erik stumbling behind him.
Once they left the room, SS-Oberfüehrer Benno Von Arent, the Nazi specialist agent for art and treasures, removed a small stack of pictures and photographs from his case and placed them on the table. Hitler picked them up one at a time, scrutinised them and separated them into two piles.
“These will go with us,” he said and tapped at one pile.
“And these would go along to the other bunker once Hans and Erik had completed their task, and you have built it,” he pointed to the other pile.
Benno Von Arent nodded and picked up the piles. He clipped the individual papers together and replaced them into his case.
“We want them at both locations in three days,” Hitler ordered.
“Yes, Füehrer,” said Von Arent, and as he collected his things together, Hitler gave him a stark warning, “I will check none are missing Von Arent. Now go!” commanded Hitler.
Benno Von Arent stood and saluted before he left the room.
Now alone, Hitler leant forward, stared at Műller, and asked, “How are my two Jewish decoys?”
Műller nodded and said, “They are fine. The surgery went well and they are both enjoying all the trappings of being first-class citizens again… until we need them,” he smirked.
“And you are certain that their bodies won’t be recognised?”
“Yes Füehrer, I have given strict instructions on the incendiary to use for maximum effect. I will use two of your staff to make the discovery, which will be more convincing when they are captured,” explained Műller and sounding confident assured him, “There was no way to identify the remains. That technology may be decades away and by that time our beloved third Reich will once again dominate the world.”
Hitler sighed, smiled, and asked, “Was everything else on schedule Heinrich?”
Műller nodded and replied, “Once Hans completed his mission, he will then carry out your next order, and then we can start again. Germany and the Third Reich will once again be the world’s superior power under your leadership and guidance my Füehrer.”
Hitler smirked at the SS officer, and then shouted at the two guards, “Bring Dönitz and Walter.”
The guard marched away to fetch the two men. Műller packed away the maps and then he and Hitler chatted until Gross Admiral Karl Dönitz and Professor Hellmuth Walter came into the room; followed by Eva Braun, knowing she would be included in this part of the plan.
They sat around the large coffee table. Professor Hellmuth Walter took pictures, blueprints, and schematics from his bag and placed them on the table.
