Apologies again for the long delay. While I did do quite a bit of research for this story, I also took some liberties with events and names in history for the following chapter. No offense is meant to the survivors and all those involved in the actual events discussed below. That said, I hope you all enjoy the next chapter.

A decent commute away from the hustle and bustle of downtown Los Angeles, sat a sleepy little subdivision composed almost exclusively of older residents: the empty nesters and retirees who'd moved in years ago when the properties were new and then, over time, established themselves into as much a part of the community as the houses themselves. Lifers, they jokingly called themselves. A few younger families came and went over the years, of course, but the core community remained. These quiet, now older folks that had spent the majority of their lives calling the close-knit neighborhood their home were here to stay.

Parked at the curb of one of the cozy, ranch-style brick homes at the end of an idyllic and peaceful street, sat an idling orange Pinto. It had been longer than usual since this certain Pinto had been parked outside this house and inside the vehicle, Sabrina found herself wishing that this was just a normal visit.

But, it wasn't, and instead of contemplating chess strategies for the inevitable challenge her father would extend her way, she nervously went over the details of their situation, ticking them off one by one, repeating them to herself just like her father had taught her to do to ensure that nothing was left out.

Sabrina groaned to herself as she killed the engine. She'd called and called her father over and over again from her car, hoping to speak to him without killing any unnecessary time by making the entire drive to his house. But old habits died irritatingly hard. Knowing this, she'd immediately headed to his place, calling periodically in the hope that he'd pick up and save her time.

No such luck though.

Growing up, she'd been accustomed to walking to a neighbor's house whenever she needed to make a phone call. She was already in high school and her brothers grown and moved out by the time her father had decided to bite the bullet and buy a telephone and though he'd had several years to acclimate himself to it, he had just never caught on. Nine times out of ten, her father didn't answer his phone and now here she was, sitting on his curb and figuring out how to share the details she had with him face to face.

There were more details than she had fingers right now and undoubtedly there'd be more to come as the rest of this mystery unfolded around them. For now though, she had plenty. Bosley had seen to that. She thought back to his phone call and remembered the horror inside of her growing as each new detail he'd uncovered became worse and more disturbing than the one before it.

First, there was the poison in Jill's system: Zyklon B and Clomifene, mixed together in an unholy cocktail that had no business in her friend's blood stream. The implications there would have been enough on their own without all of the new information from Bosley. The man had undoubtedly done his homework and she mentally went over the rest of what he'd told her.

First there was the woman in the picture. Irene Stone, born Irina Fleischer in Berlin in 1918 in the waning days of World War I, blossoming into adulthood in a war ravaged, defeated, and economically crippled Germany. Married to English ex-patriot Henry Stone in 1935 and then serving her country as a nurse right from the early days of World War II until Germany's surrender in 1945.

And then abruptly vanishing.

Sabrina reached for the rolled up picture she'd taken with her and neatly tucked it into her arm as she climbed out of her car and jogged up the well maintained walkway of her father's home. This time, touching the picture made her flesh break out into goosebumps. The men and women in the photo were no longer strangers to her.

Dr. Dieter F. Schuester, Dr. Markus K. Rutger, Dr. Simon von Achterberg, and Dr. Wilhelm Holzer: four of the nine smiling and kindly looking doctors in the picture were much more sinister than they appeared. All four of them had volunteered their talents at Auschwitz, all four of them working under the sick and twisted orders of Dr. Josef Megele, performing cruel, unspeakable experimentations to their unwilling captives during the war. All in the name of "medicine" and all too horrific to even began to comprehend.

Of the four of them, Charlie had discovered, three were accounted for. Schuester and Holzer, both tried and convicted of crimes against humanity in Nuremberg, and both long dead, executed right after the war by a method that was surely more merciful than they deserved. They'd gone first, saving a place in hell for Von Achterberg, also convicted in Nuremberg, but for some reason spared an execution. He had died in prison twelve years later of a massive heart attack.

Rutger manage to flee Germany after the war and escape trial. His whereabouts were unknown and had been since 1945.

Imagine that.

As much as she didn't want to admit, Sabrina had a feeling that Kelly and Jill had come very close to meeting him last night. Irene, Rutger, what Kelly had seen on the second floor, the symbol etched in Gunther's shirt that she'd later noticed on the wall behind the hospital staff in the photo. It was all starting to fit together, one dark and twisted puzzle piece at a time.

Shuddering, Sabrina made her way to the front door, took a moment to gather her thoughts and then rapped her knuckles on the door in the familiar five beat pattern that the members of her family had been using to identify themselves ever since she could remember.

He hadn't been expecting her, but the door opened almost immediately and there stood her father, Col. Richard Blaylock. He was a tall man and his gruff, weathered features, in stark contrast to his kind nature, made him look much older than his fifty four years. Thin but strong looking, and at the moment his thick hair (iron gray ever since Sabrina could remember) looked a little mussed, as if he'd been out in the backyard recently. He was casually dressed and his sleeves were rolled up the way they always were when he worked with his hands. This was probably the case, Sabrina decided, he wasn't one to sit around and do nothing while he waited. Certainly not answer the phone.

His face lit up upon seeing his youngest at his door. "Hi, baby." He greeted her warmly.

Sabrina grinned at him and stepped inside and into a big, welcoming hug. "Hi, Dad." She inhaled his familiar scent of pipe smoke and cheap aftershave and, as always, was slightly comforted. He gave her a squeeze, closed the door behind them and then draped an arm around her shoulder to steer her towards the den.

"So this is a surprise. What brings you here?" He asked her as they walked.

Sabrina forced a smile. "Oh, you know. Just wanted to talk." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I tried to call. About twenty times."

"Oh, did you?" Col. Blaylock asked, looking genuinely surprised. "I was out back. Never heard it ring."

"You never hear it, Dad." Sabrina chided. She paused and narrowed her eyes teasingly at him. "Maybe you should get your ears checked, huh? You know, a man your age-"

"Watch it." Her father warned playfully. He led her into the den and, still smiling faintly, motioned her towards the big, threadbare couch that was the centerpiece of the room. "So you hit any traffic on the way down?" He asked.

Sabrina groaned. "Sure did."

"You take the 5?"

"I did."

Col. Blaylock clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Thought so. Shoulda taken 60."

Of course. Sabrina laughed softly to herself, deciding to let him win this one. "Yeah, I shoulda taken the 60." She relented.

She heard her father's deep, low chuckle and he clapped her gamely on the shoulder. "I made some coffee." He announced. "You want some coffee?"

"Sure, Dad." She replied and with a wink, her father bustled off into the kitchen, leaving her standing in the middle of the den. She could hear him whistling as he banged cabinets and clattered mugs to prepare their drinks and decided to sit down. Smiling to herself, Sabrina wandered to the far wall and sank into one of the big arm chairs by the window where her father often read. She had fond childhood memories of watching him here, slouched down in his big chair, muttering to himself as he squinted down at his reports, the morning paper, or his latest book through the thick lenses of the reading glasses he refused to wear anywhere else.

She let her eyes wander around the living room of the house she'd spent the latter half of her childhood in and felt a slight wave of nostalgia sweep over her. The décor had already been out of date when they'd moved here in the summer of 1962 and, not seeing any reason to fix what wasn't broken, her father had left it as it was. Even now, fourteen years later, it was much the same as it had been when she was a child. Her memories drifted back to that long and joyless summer. The move out to California had been prompted by her mother's passing after a long and difficult battle with cancer, mere weeks before Sabrina's tenth birthday, sending the Blaylock family seeking a fresh start in new and less painful surroundings. There'd been no long house hunt for them. With Sabrina in the care of her two teenage brothers, their father had made one quick weekend trip out west and within three weeks the family was moving in. Strangely enough though, it was here in this house, which held no memories of her mother, save the pictures on the shelves, where she felt like she'd really grown up. Her eyes swept over to the gleaming quartz chess set in the corner, ready and waiting for the next battle of minds to take place.

The sight of it made her smile. Her father had her playing chess almost before she could read and though she'd tried her best to teach Bill, and then later Jill and Kelly, none of them came remotely close to being a worthy opponent. She'd beaten her father once, a fluke, when she was six and though the miracle had never repeated itself since, the thrill was there each and every time they played.

Too bad this wasn't a friendly visit. She'd love to have nothing else on her mind but a game of chess.

"I hope this is ok." Her father's voice called out, pulling Sabrina from her thoughts. She looked up and saw him come into the den, a tray with two steaming cups of coffee balanced precariously in one hand. "Your brother got me one of those new Mr. Coffee contraptions and I can't figure the damn thing out. Never tastes quite right."

Sabrina couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. She'd found it odd that her dad, who normally only drank coffee in the morning, was brewing up a pot in the late afternoon. Mystery solved. For practice. "It's fine, Dad." She reassured him, taking her cup. She took a sip and was immediately aware of just how badly she could use a caffeine fix.

Col. Blaylock set the tray down on the little table beside Sabrina and dropped himself down in the chair beside her. "So, what's on your mind, Puppet?"

Sabrina smiled faintly at his pet name and took another slurp of coffee before setting it down. Suddenly, the idea of drinking anything made her nauseous. "Well, uh-" She started, her stomach knotting. "I wanted to talk to you about the war."

Her father looked surprised. "The war? Why in God's name do you want to talk about the war?"

"For a case." Sabrina worded carefully. He could always tell when she was lying, so it would be best to just omit rather than fabricate. "Our clients….see, they ran into some shady characters last night. Dressed up like nurses."

Col. Blaylock raised a bushy eyebrow. "But, they weren't nurses?"

"No, they were."

"Okay..."

Sabrina sighed to herself. She needed a bit more than caffeine to get her through this. "See, that's the thing. They really were nurses. Or at least they used to be. They were in a big, half-finished hospital out in Bridge Grove. Only….only I think they were operating illegally and what they were doing…it wasn't right."

Col. Blaylock nodded slowly. "How do you mean?"

"That they seem to be- and I can't prove any of this yet- they seem to be picking up strangers off the road to…experiment on."

"Experiment on?"

"I think so. Our clients had a car wreck and they were hitchhiking. A truck stops and the guy driving has this weird symbol on his shirt. Anyway, he takes them to that hospital that's half built and tells them the emergency room is functioning." She gauged her father's expression as she spoke, waiting for that half lidded look of contempt that so often flashed across his face when he felt he was being lied to. Now that she was retelling Jill and Kelly's story to another uninvolved party, she began to finally understanding Kelly's reluctance to tell Bill what had happened. But surprisingly enough, as outrageous as Jill and Kelly's story was, her father's face remained neutral. She finished the story as accurately as she could without relaying her involvement, including the information about Irene Stone, the doctors in the photo, and making certain to explain why the Townsend Agency was involved instead of the police. When she was finished, she glanced up at her father and noted how uncomfortable he looked. He'd stopped touching his coffee halfway through.

"So…they call us from a real hospital." Sabrina continued. "Seems the injection they'd given that girl was a mixture of Clomifene, a type of fertility drug, and….Zklyon B."

The announcement of the sinister poison brought no outward reaction from her father, but by the way his eyes darted to her at the mention of it, she knew there was no need to explain to him what it was. "Zyklon B." Col. Blaylock echoed in an odd, faraway voice. "You're sure of this?"

"I'm sure, Dad." Sabrina answered him. "And…I think I know what that was used for. You were there…wasn't that wh-"

"Yes." He cut her off quickly. Col. Blaylock's entire countenance seemed to darken. His eyes narrowed and his arms slid from the taple top they'd been resting on and dropped to his lap.

Sabrina took a deep breath, not quite sure what to think about his defensiveness. "So…how?" she started. "How could someone get their hands on it?"

"It's a pesticide, pup." Col. Blaylock explained quickly, and Sabrina could see the relief in his face. Black and white facts were easier to spout off than dredging up past experiences. "You used to could buy it here in the states back in the thirties. They still sell it legally for pest control in Czechoslovakia, only they call it Uragan D2 now."

"And it would impossible to get anywhere else?" Sabrina asked.

Col. Blaylock looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding his head. "I'd imagine so. There's a certain….stigma still attached to it. Horrible, horrible things were done with that stuff. The Brits even executed one of the chemists who developed it after the war, guy by the name of Tesch, I believe. No, you'd have to make a trip to Czechoslovakia to get it." He brightened. "That all you needed to know?

Sabrina felt her stomach churn, knowing her father's relief was short lived. "No. I…uh, wanted to ask you, Dad. Why? Why would these people do this? What are they trying to do?"

Her father sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, stubbornly averting his gaze. "You're asking me questions that I can't answer, Puppet."

"You were there though." Sabrina pressed. "Those experiments…why? Why would they want this girl and her baby? For what purpose?"

She looked beseechingly up at her father, wordlessly seeking his gaze. When he finally looked up, Sabrina was taken aback by the look on his face. Haunted, disturbed, he looked ten years older suddenly.

"Sabrina, I can't answer those questions because it takes a certain kind of person. A sick, sick person to sit here and give reasons, excuses, for the things that they did. Now, I can't talk for certain about the people your clients met, but if they're using the same kind of logic as they did back then, then it's possible that they wanted to….affect the outcome of the birth of this girl's baby."

"Affect the outcome?" Sabrina asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

Her father heaved a great big sigh. "I didn't know all of this back then. It was only many, many years after the war ended when I could go back and read up on some of the….things that I saw. Because I asked myself the same question that you just did. Why?"

"And what did you find?"

"More than I thought I wanted to know. See, old Hitler had in his mind that there could be created a type of master race. The Aryans. He believed the Aryans were physically, intellectually, every kind of superior to the rest of the world. These experiments were done on prisoners to see if they could be made….acceptable."

Sabrina swallowed hard. "How?"

"How." Her father sighed, looking exhausted. "Let's see….many ways. I read that they had tried to dye prisoners' eyes blue. Tortured prisoners, injured them to test out new types of medicine- you sure you want to hear this?"

Sabrina felt sick. No, if she was honest with herself, than no she did not want to hear what the fate that her two best friends had narrowly escaped. She felt her head bob up and down stupidly nonetheless.

"Ok, then." Col. Blaylock sighed. "They froze people nearly to death then tested the best ways to warm them up, probably to use it for their troops in Russia. They infected people with diseases then tested cures on them like they were lab rats. Most died." He stopped, no longer wishing to elaborate. "Listen, if you want to know more, then I'll lend you the books I read. This isn't exactly coffee talk. But, they did experiments on twins, children, Jews, Russians, gypsies, homosexuals, just about anyone they could get their hands on. Now if the people your clients met were Nazi…scientists, then I wouldn't be surprised if they wanted to test some type of drug on the developing fetus. Nothing was off limits to those people. And as for the girl injected with fertility drugs, well…if your resources consist of people kidnapped off the highway, then I'd imagine pregnant women are hard to come by. She may have been a bit of an investment."

Sabrina shook her head. "Why poison her then? With that stuff."

Col. Blaylock shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Slow her down? Make her sick so she'd stay? What sick person wants to leave a hospital?"

That made sense in a twisted kind of way. Sabrina looked pensive for a moment before nodding. "You could be right. It wasn't a fatal dose. Now…those doctors…is it possible one of them could have made his way over here?"

Her father shrugged again. "Oh, it's possible, I suppose." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "A lot of Nazis escaped trial. They knew it was all over for them and they jumped ship like the rats they were. I've heard many of them escaped to South America, changed their identities, and now they're living out their lives, comfortable and happy, after all they've done." He smirked. "Life isn't fair, is it?" Col. Blaylock waited for his daughter to shake her head before continuing. "As for being here in the U.S., I don't know. I guess it's possible."

"I was afraid of that." Sabrina mumbled. She turned in her seat and pulled the now wrinkled and worn photo she'd been carting around all day. "I wanted to show you this."

Col. Blaylock, hoping for a change of topic, leaned forward interestedly. "What is this?"

"We think one of these men might be the man behind the curtain so to speak." Sabrina answered him. She spread out the picture on the little table between them and flipped it so that her father could see it. She tapped her finger on Irene's face. "Both of our clients agreed that this is the woman they saw." Col. Blaylock's eyes traveled up the picture as they followed his daughter's finger to the symbol on the wall behind the hospital staff. "And they both saw this symbol on the shirt of the man who dropped them off at the hospital. We're pretty sure that he was in on it. Probably how they gather victims. Now, these guys here-" The tip of her finger traced along the back row, stopping to tap on the four doctors Bosley had researched. "-have all been linked to Josef Mengele."

"And you think this Stone woman is working with one of them?"

Sabrina nodded. "Yeah. We narrowed it down to this guy." She tapped Rutger's face. "If Irene Stone is here, then it isn't much of a stretch to think she could have helped him get here too."

Col. Blaylock scowled at the photo and pushed it back towards his daughter. "Sounds like it. If it's true, than I hope both of them are brought to justice quickly."

"We're gonna try." Sabrina assured him, returning the photo to her pocket. "How were so many Nazis able to escape?"

"I told you." Col. Blaylock answered her. "They knew we were coming and they knew what they had done was inexcusable. They turned tail and ran before we could get there."

Sabrina nodded and a question floated up to her mind that she wasn't sure she should ask. She sat in silence for a moment before curiousity won the battle. "Dad…did anyone from the camp you liberated manage to escape?"

Her father stiffened. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Because, I want to know."

The look her father sent her made him seem like a different person. Cold and unfeeling. "Once I tell you this, I can't take it back. Are you sure you want to know?"

Sabrina stared back at him, unsettled by her gaze. "Well….yeah."

"Then the answer is no." Col. Blaylock said, all the warmth and fatherly kindness gone from his voice. "We killed them all. Everyone single one of them."

It felt like ice water was trickling down Sabrina's back. She wasn't stupid, she knew her father had fought in World War II, in Korea. She knew it was impossible for him not to have taken an enemy life, but it was something she never before let herself think about. Richard Blaylock was her father, not a soldier, not a killer and to hear him say otherwise made her deeply uncomfortable. "You?" she stammered.

Her father didn't even flinch. "Yes. And I don't regret where a single bullet went."

The heavy atmosphere in the room was suffocating, and father and daughter fell silent for moment. "Oh." Was all Sabrina could finally manage.

"The prisoners were all up against the fences hollering at us when we got there." Col. Blaylock went on unasked. "Everyone who was strong enough to make noise was making noise. And the stronger ones…when the camp was secure, we gave them weapons. And then we turned the other way. Not a single Nazi walked out of that camp."

"You let them kill their-" Sabrina asked softly, shocked. "Why? I mean…why not take them prisoner. Make them face trial."

Her father finally looked up and the expression on his face unnerved her. "Why?" He repeated, his voice a wretched whisper. He took a deep breath. "Sabrina, when my platoon got to Dachau, it was…it was like something straight out of a nightmare. Bodies just everywhere, stacked up like Lincoln logs, filling up these deep trenches. And the survivors…My God, if they weren't walking around and hollering, I don't think I would have been able to tell them apart from the dead. It was horrible. I still have nightmares. Worst thing I've seen in my life. And the smell, Sabrina, my God the smell. Death, just death everywhere I looked."

Col. Blaylock paused for a moment and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as if he could still smell it. "And….Puppet, you need to understand. I was a very young man. I was twenty four years old, your age now, when the war ended. I hadn't been married to your mother even a year when I was shipped off to Europe in '43. I was a boy. Then a couple months later, I get a letter from your mom saying she was pregnant with your brother Dicky." He smiled humorlessly and Sabrina was surprised to see his dark eyes start to mist over. "So there I am, twenty one years old, an ocean away from your mom, she's pregnant with my first born and I don't even know if I'm going to survive the goddamn war. I didn't get to be by your mom's side when Dicky was born. I didn't get to see my first child until he was over two years old. I missed the whole first two and a half years of Dicky's life."

Sabrina cocked her head. "I never knew that." She said softly.

"No, I didn't see a reason to tell you kids." Her father replied matter of factly. "Dicky knows, he found some of my letters and I told him. But what I'm getting at, Puppet, is that when we liberated the camp, I was a father. And even though I had never met my son, I knew, Sabrina." He set his jaw and his dark gaze bore straight into his daughter's. "I knew that I didn't want - that I could not allow- my son to grow up in a world where this kind of evil existed. There are things that a parent will do that they didn't know they were capable of in order to protect their children. And after what we saw, after what those poor people went through….These men that were in charge of the camp, they weren't soldiers. If they had been soldiers, we'd have taken them prisoner after they surrendered, you bet. But these…men-" He sneered the word. "-they were criminals, they were monsters. It had to be dealt with right then and there, Sabrina, because it didn't deserve to exist in the same world as my or anyone else's children."

Father and daughter fell silent once more. His words echoing in her head, louder and louder, mixed with images of her beloved father ruthlessly mowing down German soldiers, watching passively as the prisoners turned on their tormentors, made Sabrina unable to look up at him, much less speak. He had been right. Now that she knew, she could never see him quite the same again.

The pair was quiet for a moment longer, before Col. Blaylock cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "So…how was the coffee? Passable?"

Sabrina looked up. The intense, haunted man in front of her was her dad again. He was smiling, carefree and happy. Underneath his jovial front though, the message was clear: this was never to be brought up again and, after what she'd heard, Sabrina would be more than happy to make good on this unspoken promise. "Oh, I don't know, Dad." She forced some lightheartedness into her tone. "B plus at best."

Col. Blaylock smiled. "Ah well, I'll get it. To be honest, I miss my old one. But you know Don. Him and his gadgets."

Sabrina had to laugh, recalling the last visit she'd had with her older brother. "You should have seen him when he got his VCR. He talked me and Dicky's ears off about it for almost half an hour. He was so excited, I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I'd had mine for nearly two months."

Her father laughed again. "You kids." He muttered fondly.

"Well, Dad-" Sabrina sighed, making a show of getting to her feet. He followed her lead, stretching his arms above his head as if he'd been asleep. "-thanks for all your help. I should get back to the hospital. Our clients are waiting there for us. Hopefully, we can protect them once the police are involved."

Col. Blaylock smiled and flipped up his wrist to check his watch. "Better get going then if you want to beat rush hour."

"Yeah, Dad." Sabrina said agreeably, as she cleared their cups and hurried them to the kitchen sink.

"And take the 60 this time." Her father called after her.

Sabrina smiled, brushed off her hands and met her dad at the front door. "I will." She leaned forward and hugged him, ignoring the involuntary cold shudder that went through her body. "Thanks for everything, Dad."

Col. Blaylock kissed his daughter's cheek. "Anytime, Puppet. Hey, next time you're over-"

"I know." Sabrina laughed, sensing a challenge when she heard it. "Next time I'm going to checkmate you. Challenge accepted."

Col. Blaylock laughed as he walked his daughter to her car. "You be careful. And say hello to the girls and John for me. Love you."

"I will, Dad. I love you too." Sabrina replied. Hoping he couldn't see her trembling hands, she started her car and drove away, blowing him a kiss just before she drove out of his sight. He waved at her and Sabrina watched his thin figure in the rearview mirror until a right turn took him completely out of sight.

She let out a shaky sigh and, feeling suddenly drained, slumped back into her seat. Whoever Jill and Kelly had gotten themselves mixed up with needed to be stopped. Now more than ever, she was glad that Bill had left two of his men to guard their door. These people, whoever they were, were even more dangerous than she'd imagined. Despite that, they would find them. Put an end to this. Feeling numb now, Sabrina steered her car back towards the highway.

The story she heard had given her a fresh viewpoint on their situation and she began to understand the mindset Kelly had been in when she'd done what she'd done in that hospital. Hearing her father's story had made everything that much more clear, and had it been her in Kelly's place, she wondered if she might just have done the same. Or worse.

Disturbed by that train of thought, Sabrina focused her eyes on the road. She would be back at the hospital in less than half an hour and there was much to discuss with her friends. But first things first, she thought to herself. It was high time Kelly broke her silence about just what she had seen in that room last night.

Heeding her father's advice, she steered the orange Pinto onto the 60, hoping it would get her to her friends that much faster.