The Renaissance Mayflower Hotel, Washington, D.C.
1815 hours, 12 August, 1938
The sun was beginning to set earlier with each successive evening. Autumn would be here soon enough, and as the days progressed, the daylight would diminish in the same fashion. As will our chance to prepare an effective counter-offensive against the common enemies of humanity. While time slips away, the chance for a swift and decisive resolution of these soon-to-be events becomes less likely.
These thoughts passed through the mind of Professor Albrecht Bern as he stood overlooking the corner of 17th and DeSales Streets from his tenth story window. He had never been an impatient man, but reports days old continually apprised him of circumstances unfolding on the opposite side of the Atlantic that made him feel ineffectual and defeated, his hands tied up by red tape, skepticism and general disinterest. What good are governments and bureaucracies when they fail to act swiftly enough to thwart foes that favor action over council? He wrung his hands in frustration as he observed the Americans below, outwardly oblivious to the events unfolding far away in Europe.
The summer air washed over him, unbearably thick and oppressive. It caused him to momentarily languish for the cool evenings at his home in Aylestead-on-Thames against the backdrop of the British countryside. There had been a thunderstorm earlier in the afternoon that had brought heavy rains, compounding the intolerable humidity. As the sunlight faded and the streets began to light up, the commotion of insect life continued to chirrup and murmur unabated over the din traffic below.
As resilient as our enemy, he mused.
It had taken nearly four months and two continents to get to this point, and having finally gained the support of the Americans, it would take even more valuable time to assemble and train the men who would be tasked with the duty of combating this incomparable threat. Even now, as he stood facing the east, it could already be too late. He sighs and wonders why responsibility typically falls to those who agree to bear its burden, when he feels a presence move behind him.
"Whad'ya say, Professor?" The unseen figure greets him through clenched teeth and strikes a match against the sole of his shoe. He pulls the flame towards the pipe jutting out of his face and holds it above the meerschaum bowl, drawing air through its stem until it begins to emit smoke. He extinguishes the match with a flick of his wrist and tosses it into an empty ashtray. Then he works on keeping the plug of tobacco lit. Once satisfied, he concludes by asking, "You think we're ready for this?"
It was Major Cartwright Thune; Albrecht knew this, of course, because they shared conjoined rooms at the hotel. But even if he hadn't recognized the voice, he could have identified him by the strong, fruity aroma of the Perique and green river burley blend of tobacco he smoked. He paused halfway through turning to face the officer, considering the question for a moment as if he could logically formulate an exact answer.
"Well, we've got to be, haven't we?" He answered with an English-educated accent, but his native German tongue perforated his words with a faint staccato, a strong contrast to Cartwright's easy southern drawl. "We've all got to be ready, and as soon as possible. Not an ounce less than total victory, lest we face a peril far greater than some overgrown dictator with a penchant for world domination."
Cartwright sensed the rigid tension that enveloped Albrecht. He smiled, and added, "World domination and stupid-looking moustaches."
Albrecht managed a feeble smile, but he regarded his friend, who stood before him with his hands crossed over his chest and smoke emanating from his calabash pipe. He knew that the young major was up to speed on the current events transpiring in Europe, as they discussed the topic regularly. He also knew that Cartwright understood that this Hitler fellow, while a publicly charismatic and fervently eloquent leader, was a dangerously ethnocentric, maniacal tyrant driven by his inner demons and maligned world view. Yet Albrecht also recognized that his friend did not possess all of the facts that he himself had managed to gather to come to the conclusion that had spurred him to entreat definitive action against the land of his birth. Cartwright was a soldier, and while he would execute the orders that were given to him, Albrecht wondered how significantly he struggled with the moral implications of the directives he was instructed to carry out.
Cartwright shrugged, steering the conversation back onto the singular path that the professor always drove straight towards. "Yeah, well I imagine that we'll all be drawn into another world war before all is said and done."
Albrecht scoffed, retorting, "Man's wars to quench man's thirst for power. These will continue to erupt across the globe for as long as humanity is allowed, or allows itself, to exist." He clenched his jaw in anger, the tendons in his neck standing out like guide wires to a telephone pole. "Trivial pursuits when compared to the grand scheme of all universal existence," he finished, furrowing his brow and turning away, already feeling foolish for losing his temper.
"Now look, Al," proffered Cartwright in the same steady monotone he used to address all situations, "I know there's a limit to the amount of information you're able to share with me. I've been your liaison since you came here two months ago, and I've had no problem taking care of you as long as that was all that was in the job description." His left arm reached around the back of his head to scratch at the stubble of his two day-old haircut. "But the situation's changed since this morning, now that you've personally inducted me into your little crusade. I'm starting to realize that I haven't the slightest notion as to what the hell you've been trying to accomplish this whole time. And I'm starting to wonder when the other shoe is going to drop and how heavy it's going to be."
Nodding in accord, Albrecht attempted to explain his actions to his friend, knowing that even if he could divulge the entire reality of the situation to him at this very moment he would, like most others incapable of grasping the spiritual and esoteric truths of the universe by the parameters of modern enlightenment, refuse to believe it. "While it's true that I've purposefully shrouded my actions from you as need warranted, I've also been assessing you and have determined that you are the exact type of fellow needed to form the core leadership of this group of brigands. Your unobtrusiveness into the nature of my business has been most gentlemanly, while your dependability and fortitude are second to none." He paused for a moment before adding, "You're quite like a prototype, really. You should feel honored."
"Hell," expostulated Cartwright, sheepishly concealing the grin spreading across his face, "you should get a second opinion before you go into all of that."
"No, no," argued Albrecht, "I mean it wholeheartedly."
After a brief moment of silence, Cartwright asked, "There's more going on over in Germany than what's in the news, isn't there?" He has walked across the room to stand next to Albrecht, and they both lean against the window pane and look out into what was rapidly becoming the night sky.
"As history has often been edited by the victors, so is our present altered by the deceit and vanity of those in power." He absently tugged at the corner of his moustache, explaining, "What is happening in Germany today is indistinguishable to many other similar trials that have passed in the history of our race. But beneath the veneer of this maligned party patriotism, there are events unfolding that could alter our world permanently if left unchecked." He stared out into the evening impassively, adding, "I've glimpsed into terrible, black chasms of madness that no mortal should ever face. The knowledge I possess, the terror I know, I would never wish on another living soul, were it in my power to keep it from happening." The embers of Cartwright's pipe smoldered and audibly hissed in the momentary silence as he drew another mouthful of smoke. When Albrecht spoke next, his intonation faltered apologetically. "If only it were in my power, I'd save us all. But I'm unable to do it alone, and for this failure I apologize to you."
Taking the pipe from his mouth, Cartwright turned and looked at the professor through narrow eyes. The man he saw before him looked unexpectedly frail and dispirited, significantly older than the 42 years of age Professor Bern claimed, and for a moment he thought that somebody else was standing next to him. But then he blinked and the temporary illusion was gone. "You make it sound as if we don't have a chance," he flatly stated. "How can we win against something so seemingly insurmountable?"
Albrecht's eyes suddenly flashed, darting like two bolts of lightning. "There are ways," he reassured the major. "There are always ways through the darkness; knowledge handed down from civilizations erased from history, resources that are revealed to those that dedicate their lives to enlightenment. In my life," he explained, "I've sought out the answers to questions most never trouble to ask. As a result, I've been a witness to many revelations, both wonderful and terrible." He smiled sadly in reflection. Then he placed his hand on Cartwright's shoulder, bolstering him before uncertainty began to take hold. "And you, my friend, will soon walk beside me down this profound and unfathomable path. We will protect one another."
And then nobody spoke for a while. The night had finally descended, a bombazine shroud to blanket the earth as the day dwindled to an end. Various Packards, De Sotos, Fords, Pierce-Arrows and Studebakers clattered and droned in succession over the streetcar rails beneath the glow of lamp posts and neon lights far below.
It was Cartwright who broke the silence. "I've spent the last two months with you, and I feel like I've gotten to know you pretty well, but I feel like I don't know anything about you. I mean, your business is your business. But if we're going to protect each other, then maybe you should tell me about yourself. Your family."
"I have no family," Albrecht responded matter-of-factly. "They are all gone." Cartwright apologetically offered his condolences, but Albrecht brushed them aside. "I dearly love and miss my family, but I do not mourn them, nor do I feel anger at them being taken away from me. Death is not the end of life, merely a part of human evolution. Beyond this world lies infinite mysteries that we of mortal stock, stranded here temporarily in these crude vessels, are unable to comprehend."
"I couldn't imagine," ruminated Cartwright.
Albrecht shrugged nonchalantly. "It shouldn't be so hard. We'll all one day pass from this life to the next. It's inevitable. Even you as a soldier should understand and prepare for this." Here he turned to face his friend and spoke candidly. "I must confess that until recently, I held a biased view of the military as a barbaric society that lent itself to those with an inherently violent nature. And while I still believe this to be partly true in some instances, having spent a vast amount of the last two years of my life working alongside those with military backgrounds for a common goal, I see now that most are generally honorable men. Ordinary men, some of whom do extraordinarily selfless things. The very least of them are no different than those seeking employment through normal lines of work; husbands and fathers, sons and patriots. The true barbarians are the political leaders and parties of nations over the world that wield their military forces with little thought of the carnage and brutality that war exposes all of humanity to, in exchange for their own self-important ideals and advantage."
Cartwright wagged his head from side to side as if he were weighing the points of Albrecht's statement before agreeing. "Yeah, that's about it in a nutshell…"
Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his wool trousers and leveling his shoulders with his ears, the professor continued saying, "Yes, well I see that war is sometimes a very necessary evil in a world fraught with endless iniquities. And on occasion men such as you and I must stand up and be counted for to prevail against these dark forces conspiring to plunge our world into eternal darkness."
"Well, we're on our way, aren't we? Congress agreed to support you in whatever it is you've been trying to do, and General Craig himself gave you his blessing." Cartwright absently scratched at the side of his nose. "What is this S.P.R. group that you and Mr. Denning were talking about?" he wondered aloud. A fat pigeon the color of a cinderblock descended from above to land on the window sill before fluttering off in consternation as it was shooed away by the major.
Albrecht's instantaneous reaction was to defer to the tight-lipped deniability that he had sworn to keep when he first went to work for the Government Code and Cypher School and the newly formed Joint Intelligence Committee. But why? The S.P.R. was no secret, it was a public organization. And Major Thune had become the first official member of this newly christened as yet unnamed military unit. What possible reason would be served by withholding information with somebody already so involved? He had said it himself, hadn't he? We will protect one another. "I was introduced to the Society for Psychical Research while attending Eton College at Windsor, and it was after my induction into this enlightened group of intellectuals that my education truly began."
There was a knock at the door to Albrecht's room, interrupting them. He crossed the floor of the suite and opened the door to reveal a stoic-looking soldier in Army khakis with corporal stripes. "Professor Albrecht Bern?" he inquired.
"Yes," answered Albrecht.
The soldier looked at him with an unblinking expression you could use to pile drive a fence post. "I.D., please?" he requested.
"Of course," Albrecht acquiesced, fishing out a laminated security clearance authorization freshly stamped by the Department of War. The corporal takes it from his hand and analyzes it for authenticity. Satisfied yet somehow disappointed, he returns Albrecht's badge and hands him a manila envelope. He brusquely turns on his heel and walks away from the door with an extreme impersonal military efficiency that hypnotizes the professor until he disappears around a corner. Closing the door, he opens the envelope and produces a set of papers. After glancing them over, he explains, "Our tickets. We're leaving by train first thing tomorrow for Montauk, Long Island, New York. A place called Fort Hero." He looks to Cartwright. "Well, friend, it seems as if we'll be starting work tomorrow post haste." He then handed them over to Cartwright to look them over himself.
"Fort Hero?" he frowned. "I've never heard of it."
Albrecht arched an eyebrow. "I've heard it mention of Montauk before in my circles. It's one of several places within New England that are of interest to the S.P.R."
Returning the papers to the professor, Major Thune asks, "What do they do?"
Albrecht looked at him with a blank expression.
"The S.P.R.?" he clarified.
"Do?" considered Albrecht. He mulled the question over, deliberating on how to answer a query that on the surface sounded simple, yet was in fact as complex and convoluted as anything that could be inquired about quantum mechanics or the human nervous system. "Well, they are a group of experts in certain specialized fields who conduct experiments and research in areas of certain unconventional science, searching for truths that might illuminate and propel humanity beyond some of the more barbaric ignorances our society has clung to throughout the supposed advancement of our species. I only hope that the men selected for this group are able to accept the teachings of the S.P.R. with an open mind and the utmost seriousness."
Cartwright screwed up his face in a physical attempt to understand what the hell he had just been told, and it was obvious to Albrecht that his explanation had only confused the major. He made an effort to simplify it a bit further; "They investigate events and abilities that aren't easily explained by commonly accepted scientific beliefs. Psychic abilities, spiritual contacts, etcetera," he said, summing up his clarification with a flourish of his hand. And as Albrecht witnessed understanding penetrate Cartwright's mind, he watched as skepticism unfolded over his face.
"You mean hoodoo like ghosts and such?" he asked with a heavy measure of cynicism.
Albrecht maintained his visage of absolute earnestness. "You will soon learn that with every answer you receive, a thousand additional questions will germinate. Just because a thing is not understood does not mean that it doesn't exist. There is much that takes place on this world that men of science are unable to explain, and this is merely one planet in a universe of countless billions. Just within this last decade astronomers have discovered the ninth planet Pluto within our own solar system." He looked at Cartwright with the look a father might give a child that just discovered that fire burns. "Never underestimate the limits to the knowledge of man. After all, we still haven't evolved beyond the primeval desire to kill others for not conforming to our own beliefs."
Cartwright reconsidered his initial reaction and felt somewhat inelegant and dense. Professor Bern saw the dejection reflected upon his face, and attempted to reassure him. "Every grain of knowledge an individual gains displaces a modicum of ignorance. I have every bit of faith that you'll be an adept student." He checked the Ulysse Nardin Marine Chronometer on his wrist. It was near 7:00 PM, and if they were leaving early in the morning, then they should both start packing their things. He looked around his room and realized that he had a significant task before him; there were endless stacks of books, portfolios and other jacketed records, piles of clean and dirty laundry, and several makeshift work stations with a variety of projects at different stages of progression.
"Alright, alright," Cartwright entreated lightheartedly, holding his hands up feigning a defensive posture, "I got you. I need to get my stuff packed up too. I'll see you in the morning."
"Yes, goodnight," Albrecht replied, his mind already shifting back to the thoughts he'd been immersed in before he was interrupted by the major. He watched him pass through the adjoining door and shut it behind him. Then he observed his shadow pass over the light peeking across the threshold several times before turning back to the window, observing the night sky. Between the clouds he could discern a handful of white pinpoints, starlight glittering through the infinite blackness of space.
He sighed significantly, and then turned to packing his belongings.