Chapter 2:
The Legacy Frankenstein
Corporal Hans Ossenfelder poured tea into the two doctors' cops.
"Ah, tea. The drink of kings. Amazing an inferior race created this", Heinrich Frankenstein commented.
Erich Reisendorf nodded.
"So, tell me. Your great-great-grandfather Victor first did this experiment?" he asked.
Heinrich smiled.
"Ah, yes. He first did it in 1816. Unfortunately, the local villagers were ignorant fools, and he was forced to leave. He tried it again later, but the creature was murderous and he had to kill it. He was sentenced to death at the Guillotine", the Baron explained.
"So, he was killed", commented Reisendorf.
"Almost, but he was saved by a guard, Karl, I believe his name was. In the 1840s, with the help of an assistant named Hans, they created a third creature, with Karl's brain. However, it became deformed, and turned into a cannibal. It had to die. Hans and I-"
"Hans and you?" Reisendorf asked, an uneasy look in his eyes.
Frankenstein laughed.
"Excuse me. Sometimes I think of Victor and myself as one person. Anyway, they went to London to continue, but were forced to leave before creating another creature.
"They returned to the village were he created the first creature, and revived it. Unfortunately, a hypnotist he employed to revive the creature's mind took control of it, and he was forced to kill it.
"He then created a grand creation. It could transfer a soul into another body. After Hans was killed, he transferred his soul into young women. After a brief rampage, they committed suicide. For some reason, the invention was lost.
"Victor then created another creature, but like the others, it was destroyed. He created one more. It was lost in Norway. By that time, Victor was old and he died".
"They never found the monster's body in Norway?" Reisendorf asked.
A look of genuine interest briefly flared in Heinrich's eyes, but the look passed quite quickly and Frankenstein shook his head.
"Oh, I doubt it could still be there. Someone must have found it, and it was destroyed. Anyway, I should go." Frankenstein smiled, staring at the oil-painting portrait of the Fuehrer that hung from the wall. The scientist nodded his head and extended his arm in a sharp Nazi salute. Then he turned and looked at Reisendorf. "I have a great deal of work I promised the Fuehrer and I don't want to wind up like Victor."
'I imagine that means I should be returning to my duties as well,' Reisendorf stated rising, leaving the tea cup on the table. 'After all, if your head goes, they won't think anything of fitting mine in a noose.'
Reisendorf left. Ossenfelder turned to Frankenstein.
"Herr Doktor. What if they find it?" he asked.
"Impossible. All they know is that it's in Norway. They don't know where, or even when. Besides, even if they do find it, they will never understand it. At least not before my army is ready".
*****
Sergeant James Murata and Major Henry McKernin entered the tent.
"McKernin! What are you doing, bringing that Jap in here?" a large man shouted. He had tinted glasses, and chopped a cigar.
"Easy, Taggart. He's one of us. Niesei division. Saved my life".
Colonel Edward Taggart grunted and left.
Murata later met most of the men there. Lt. Dale Hill, a Texan who in his best spirits seemed as happy as a pallbearer; a large-muscled man named Captain Nick Dugan, who had been a professional wrestler before the war; and, still a rarity in the US Armed services, a black officer, Lt. Hank Jones. There were some that were not even American: Wesley Tracers, a British SOE agent; Pierre Letiere, a member of the French resistance; and Major Dmitri Boldin, a Soviet officer.
Murata wondered what was this important to bring together agents from all of the Allied powers.
*****
Reichsfuehrer Heinrich Himmler stared at the old man brought to him. He was about 90 years old. Officer Gustav Wegener, retired from the Frankfurt police. The thin man cast a look at the black-garbed SS men who led the nonagenarian into the interrogation room and nodded his head. The Soldiers clicked their heels and saluted, then left the room, closing the door behind them. The leader of the SS turned his eyes back on the old man, the lenses of his glasses reflecting the dim light of the room. He allowed a thin smile as he saw the sweat beading on the old man's brow. The fear of those beneath him was something of which the Reichsfuehrer never grew tired. He remained silent for a moment, tapping a cigarette end over end on a gold cigarette case.
"There are interesting rumours about you, Herr Wegener," the Nazi said at last, enjoying the short gasp his words caused the old man to make. The thin smile broadened. It was time to stop playing and get to work. "We understand that you were involved in a most unusual case many years ago. It is of interest to the SS." Himmler leaned forward, his face inches from that of the old man. "Why don't you tell me about it." There would be no need to explain further. If the man had indeed been involved, he would know what Himmler was after. If he didn't, he was useless, except perhaps as more labour for the camps in Poland.
"Yes. It began in 1872," the old man said in a quaking voice, his fear of his long subdued memories warring against his fear of the dreaded SS. "I was the new inspector of police in Frankfurt, as you know. There was a rash of killings, horrible, brutal crimes. They called the killer the Frankfurt Butcher. It was so bad, that body parts were found on the streets in the mornings. I was convinced that a medical man was involved, though my superiors insisted that no doctor would do such things. I investigated on my own then, convinced I was right."
"Go on," Reichsfuehrer Himmler said, his tone flat, displaying neither interest nor emotion.
"I discovered that the killings began after a new physician located his practice in Frankfurt, one Dr. Frank Victor. I studied the man, watched him as often as I was able.I staked out his premises, certain that I would catch him when he next issued forth on his bloody forays. But he never did. But at the same time, the murders stopped, you see. One night, I looked into his lab. It was a huge room, filed with many strange machines, such as I had never seen before or since. I hid when I heard him coming. For many long hours I heard him working in his lab, moving large objects, the machines making strange sounds. At last, I could bear no more, I had to see. I crept from my hiding place.Then I saw something I could not believe. He had a body, clearly dead. But then, he switched on a machine, and it came alive! Alive! As God is my witness, Reichsfuehrer, this dead thing, this horror he had stitched together from those pieces of the victims we never recovered, it lived!"
"And what became of this Dr Victor, and his work?" Himmler asked in a soft, sinister voice.
"I fled before the madman or thing could react. I roused the nearest watchpost, but it was too late. The lab was in flames when we returned, the doctot and the thing on the table nowhere to be seen. They had escaped. But I made it my life's work to bring the madman to ground. I followed after him, tracing his movements by sheer luck. I chased them to Norway and it was there that I at last confronted Dr Victor and his work. Dr Victor ordered his creation to destroy me, ranting that he would not let some stupid policeman stop his great work. I became the hunted! For days, the.. thing, hunted me in the icy wilderness. At last, above a glacial fjord, it found me. It crushed me against its body, I can still feel those horrible arms about me, feel my ribs cracking under the hideous pressure! I emptied my revolver into it, pressing it against its armpit, firing the rounds right into its heart! I emptied the gun into it, and it still lived! It was wounded, it staggered off, but it still lived! Yet, God was with me, for in its dazed movements, it strode too close to the edge of the fjord and, in a burst of courage, or mad desperation, I lunged at it, pushing this horror from the ledge and down into the icy five hundred feet below!
"I was found by some hunters, half-dead, raving about the thing I had killed. They took me to the local doctor, who healed my wounds, set my broken bones. But my raving unnerved him, my talk of mutilations and monsters. He sent me on to Oslo, to an asylum. I spent the next three decades there," Wegener stared at the SS leader, a haunted look in his eyes. "No one ever caught Dr Victor, or seemingly heard of him again."
Himmler smiled. He was not so certain that Wegener's account was the last the world had heard from Dr Victor. It was rather apparent who the man had really been, But he was not interested in finding Dr Victor.
"Now, where did you shoot the creature?" the Reichsfuehrer asked.