The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 8

By Christopher W. Blaine

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DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

"There is not much to tell about my life," Henry said as he shifted gears. They were heading north towards what was supposed to be the last place of residence of Dr. Teufel's assistant, a Dr. Melch. One of Henry's contacts on one of the major European newspapers, he had explained, had discovered that Melch had died not so long ago and that his estate had been donated to the German government. It wasn't much, but several university students had been pulled to go through the mountains of archival material and scientific data the man had collected during the war.

Melch's existence was not widespread and because of his family's ties to old political powers, he never became much of a news story. "I come from a family that had money once and does not anymore." He shrugged and took his hand off of the gear shift to reach for his pack of cigarettes. As he did so, his hand brushed against Troia's knee, which was most likely a little bit too close for two people who were just acquaintances. If she minded, she did not indicate it. "We are by no means poor, but all members are expected to support themselves."

"So you do it by your writing?" she asked, interested in this apparent self-made man.

"Among other things; I also perform the occasional research. My specialty is tracking down lost loves," he told her with a wry grin. "I guess it is the romantic in me."

Troia laughed and turned to look out the window. "Your country is beautiful," she commented almost off-handedly.

"Yes, but there is much more to Germany than the borders imposed by Allies," he said. "At one time, most of this part of Europe was under Germanic rule. All of these peoples are related, separated only by political thought." He lit the cigarette and cracked his window.

"I didn't realize you were such a nationalist," she said, turning to face him again. His profile was strong and she just could not put the face with the clothes or the car. This was someone with the attitude of subtle confidence that people like Dick Grayson gave off. She liked strong men and liked the fact that you could find them in the strangest places.

Her life had been filled with such men, from Dick, to Roy (Arsenal) Harper and on to Kyle (Green Lantern) Rayner. When she could not find a strong man, she had doubled her efforts to be tougher, always searching for a balance in her life. She was a woman, but there had always been a more aggressive side to her as well. Only after she learned the truth of her Amazon heritage had she come to realize why she had always seemed split on the inside.

"I am normally not comfortable speaking about my political views, especially with Americans," he confessed. "Germans have made mistakes in the past, though you have to be a German to understand why."

"You are starting to sound like Steven," she commented.

Henry inhaled deeply. "As I said, you have to be German to understand. Whenever a German speaks of national pride, the first thing anyone says is 'Nazi'."

Troia nodded and found herself toying with the gear shift with her index finger. "I suppose you are right; the term is harsh."

They came to a turn and Henry reached over to downshift, catching Troia's hand by surprise. She blushed as she slowly pulled her hand away and he chuckled as he completed the action, made the turn and gunned the engine. "I hope you are not so playful in your sister's jet."

She could not help but be amused by the comment and was again amazed at how he had not pressed the situation further. At least he was being flirtatious, but in a way that did not make her feel dirty or like an object. "It is not that the term is harsh; it is a term of scorn. America and the Allies won the war and after that, efforts were made to humiliate the German people."

"I don't know about that…"

"Oh, how about Colonel Klink or Sergeant Schultz? Whole generations of Americans were raised believing we are a race of mentally deficient killers. How many times have you seen American children do a mock 'Heil Hitler' whenever they hear a Germanic accent?" He took another drag on his smoke and breathed out heavily. "It is something that as an American, you can never fathom, the humiliation."

Troia could somewhat sympathize, but she also knew that the Nazi's had been responsible for the murder of millions of innocent people. Somehow she had the feeling that bringing up that point would only anger her host and she did not want to do that. She was also surprised by the anger in Henry's voice and she wondered if perhaps this was an attitude that permeated the whole of European society. The war had been over for well over 60 years, yet the Americans still maintained bases in Europe "just in case".

While such actions might have been prudent during the Cold War, the world was now a different place. Was this attitude of resentment towards America because the United States simply refused to let go of their past glory over its enemies?

He reached over and put his hand over hers in a gentle fashion. "I do not mean to upset you; as I said, I do not like to speak my viewpoints around Americans. Your country has been very prosperous in its short history and many of you have pride in it that I envy."

She did not make him remove his hand, finding it comforting in a strange way. She wondered what thoughts were going through his mind; did he enjoy slowly seducing a younger woman?

Or did he realize the younger woman enjoyed being seduced?

"May I be so bold as to ask you a personal question?" he asked, his tone indicating he was changing the subject.

"I suppose so," she replied, wondering what he could be wanting.

"I read a news account that indicated that you had gotten married."

Troia turned away, biting her bottom lip as painful memories resurfaced. "I was…once. We had a child."

"Had?"

Her voice was choked with angst and she still remained turned away. Slowly she revealed to Henry the tale of her courtship with Terry Long and their subsequent marriage. She explained how Terry, a simple man, could not cope with heroic lifestyle that his wife constantly found herself drawn towards. "We divorced and the court granted custody of our son to him. My life was too unstable." Then she related how, at the lowest point in her life, she started a relationship with Kyle Rayner and how he had been the catalyst to her recovery. The divorce had devastated her. And, when she thought that everything was going to be okay, her ex-husband and child were killed in an automobile accident.

"Since then," she confessed, "it has been too difficult to really become involved with anyone. When I try, it just falls apart."

Henry was silent for several minutes, all the while Troia watched the trees and homes pass by. Finally, he squeezed her hand. "It was not my intention to bring up bad memories."

"I know," she said, wiping a tear away from her eye with her free hand. "Everyone expects me to be so strong, to be something other than human. Nothing is supposed to hurt me." She turned back to him and offered a weak smile. "I'm a woman. I have super strength, but I also have tender feelings and a heart that can be broken. Sometimes having to do the right thing costs you so much," she said.

He nodded and downshifted as they approached a turn-off. "I agree. For my part, I consider you a woman before a super-hero. It would be nice if the papers reported on the human aspect of super-humans; not just the super."

Troia sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, slowly pulling her hand away. As comforting as his touch was, it was time for her to switch to her business mode. She did promise to buy him dinner for being such a good listener. He laughed and warned her that he could be bear at the dinner table. "I hope you have brought your checkbook!" he told her.

The Melch Estate was not so much an estate as it was a small building set in the middle of what once must have been an expansive piece of property. The home was made from stone and had an ancient feeling to it Troia noted as they pulled up. There were several other cars parked in the front, some of them appearing to be military vehicles of some sort.

Henry explained what he had found out. "When Dr. Melch died, his estate became the property of the government as he had no legal heirs. He had a son, but he disappeared during the war." They stepped out into the fading afternoon sun; the trip had taken longer than expected and Troia was happy to get out and stretch her legs. Had she flown on her own, she would have been here hours ago, but the car trip, so normal it was exhilarating, had been worth the toll. For just a little while, she had felt like an average woman.

Henry got out and had a trademark cigarette in his mouth and Troia was beginning to figure out that it was starting to grow on her. Normally, she lectured people about the hazards of smoking as much as he did, but she didn't feel the need to with Henry. She doubted it would do much good anyway. "It looks like we have company," he said as a uniformed man approached. Behind him marched three young, steely-eyed soldiers armed with automatic weapons.

The leader held up a hand. "Halt!" he called. Neither Troia nor Henry moved from his car, waiting patiently as the group approached them. Two of the soldiers moved past them and started looking into the vehicle. The leader, a young captain, looked Troia over, his eyes betraying his surprise at meeting a beautiful young woman in a skintight spandex costume. It took him a second to regain his composure. "Sie sind die Amerikanische Superheldin Wonder GirlYou are the American super-hero Wonder Girl)?"

Troia swallowed, preparing to do her best at speaking German. If pressed, she spoke many languages, but she lacked the fluency possessed by her sister. Wonder Woman needed to speak as many languages as possible; she was an ambassador. Troia was an adventurer and that by definition allowed her to slack off a little.

Like a knight on a white horse, Henry stepped in. "Sieht sie aus wie ein Mädchen, Kapitän? Sie wird in ihrem Land Troia genannt (Does she look like a girl, Captain? She is called Troia in her country)."

The captain nodded and begged for an apology. He waited a few moments until one of the soldiers checking the car gave him a thumbs-up. "Und wer sind Sie (And who are you, sir)?"

Henry pulled out his identification and quickly explained to the soldier who they were and what they represented. "Frau Troia ist hier im Auftrag der Deutschen Regierung und den Vereinten Nationen. Ein Israelischer Superheld ist getoetet worden (Ms. Troia is here under the authority of the German government and the United Nations. An Israeli super-hero has been murdered) …"

"Ja, ich weis über den Tod von Seraph bereits Bescheid (Yes, I already know about the death of the Seraph)," the officer said. "er hatte einen hier einen Interview-Termin mit dem Chef-Ermittler (he had an appointment to come here to conduct an interview with the lead researcher)."

Troia leaned over and whispered into Herny's ear. He nodded, spoke into hers and then returned his attention to the soldiers. "Wieso sind Soldaten hier (Why are there soldiers here)?"

The captain shrugged and signaled for the other men to relax their weapons. "Dr. Melch war bekannt dafür, dass er an verschiedenen Projekten fuer das Reich gearbeitet hat. Es ist moeglich, dass er einiges in seinem Haus versteckt hat, was beschlagnahmt werden muss (Dr. Melch was known to have worked on several secret projects for the Reich; it is possible he had some things hidden on his estate that will need to be confiscated)."

Henry asked if it were possible for them to interview the lead researcher and the captain pulled out a cell phone and dialed in a number. There was a brief discussion with whoever was on the other end and Troia passed the time by taking a harder look at the estate grounds.

Now that she had a little more height from standing she could see the foundations of several other buildings that had once stood proudly on the property. She could also make out the worn down paths that had probably been driveways leading to each structure. At one time, this must have been a bustling, happy place. Instead it was a testament to the ravages of time.

She wondered what Dr. Melch had thought after finally being released from prison, coming home to find his home in complete ruin. Then she thought that perhaps it was fitting, given Melch's political leanings. Her thoughts were interrupted by Henry's hand on her shoulder. It was surprisingly strong. "We have been given permission to speak with the lead researcher, Dr. Milton Styles, an Englishman."

Troia raised her eyebrows. "Thank God; I feel like it is a burden to have you speaking for me. My German isn't that great."

"Your German is fine," he told her as they started to follow the soldiers. Henry immediately took a place behind her and she wondered for a moment if he were trying to get a good look at her backside. A casual glance told her that it had been one of the soldiers that had been ogling her posterior and Henry had stepped in to block his view.

When was the last time one of the guys on the Titans had even attempted to show her such courtesy?

Milton Styles met them in what had once been a garden, but had since become overrun with weeds and vines. There were two more soldiers present, but they were not on guard. The military was simply here to confiscate anything dangerous and to protect against any sort of theft.

The researcher was a tall, muscular man, not the typical scientist type. In fact, Troia thought she recognized him and when they shook hands, he explained. "You and I met several years ago when you were still Wonder Girl," he told her. Henry had pulled out his digital recorder and switched it on. "It was during the Special Olympics; I was a guest athlete."

Troia snapped her fingers. "Of course, you were one of the gymnasts! You and Robin had a sort of contest!"

"Damn talented young man," Styles admitted. He asked them to join him at a small table. Once they were all seated, he asked them what he could do for them. Troia related the story of the death of the Seraph and how it appeared that his research into the mysterious Dr. Teufel had gotten him killed.

The researcher nodded. "The Seraph contacted me after speaking with a Russian official that had some information regarding the disposition of Teufel's work after the war. Most of it was confiscated by the Soviets, but not all of it. I have uncovered several documents that seem to point to the transfer of materials to the Gestapo near the war's end."

"Dr. Styles," Henry said into his recorder, "exactly what sort of materials?"

Styles shrugged and pointed out into a field. "Six decades ago, there was a barn over there. Underneath that barn there had been a vast underground series of catacombs. We think that many of the items were stored there but…"

"But what, Doctor?" Troia asked.

"Allied bombing runs sealed off the entrance and collapsed several of the tunnels. There is no way to verify without tearing the up the grounds," the scientist admitted.

Henry asked why they did not do so. "We have some initial findings that there may be something radioactive down there and the government cannot decide if it safer to leave it where it is or to dig it up." He shook his head in frustration. "We know that the Nazis were working on atomic weapons and the government is afraid of the political fallout if they announce that there are nuclear weapons buried here and there throughout Germany."

"People would start suing the government in droves for all of their perceived illnesses," Henry stated.

"Not just that; environmental groups would go on rampages; the United States would begin poking their nose into it," he said and then he looked at Troia. Blushing, he apologized. "Sorry, forgot one of you was a yank."

She smiled. "It's okay; I understand. The German government wants to keep this under wraps. Unfortunately, with the death of the Seraph, that may not be possible."

"I don't understand," Styles said. "Surely you are not suggesting that anything found here would have resulted in something untoward occurring to the Seraph?"

"On the contrary, Doctor," Troia said, tapping a well-manicured fingernail on the table. "If he had found out about something radioactive, perhaps something like a weapon, I could see where perhaps some terrorists would want to keep that information from getting out."

Styles smacked the table. "I must alert the head of security immediately! I never put it together, but that is plausible!" He got up and told them he would return shortly to give them a proper tour.

Henry laid his cigarettes on the table and lit one. "Intriguing," was his only comment.

"It is just one possibility and the only one I can think of," she said. "I'll need to contact my sister and Steven to let them know about this."

"Of course," Henry agreed. A thin smile came over his lips and she asked him what he was thinking of. He replied that it was nothing and she said it looked dirty. "No, no, nothing like that," he told her. There was an odd look on her face at the revelation. "I was just thinking that you or your sister could probably re-open the entrance."

"Oh, I see," she said, turning her head away. "You only want me for my bulging biceps." Her voice with was filled with fake disappointment.

She felt his strong hand again as it wrapped around her upper arm. "It is impressive," he commented.

"Is that what you always say when you grab a woman?"

"It depends," he laughed. "It depends on where I grab her at."