Tamara considered herself a huge coward, to the extent that she would rather shiver than dare request a blanket. However, having had hours to think had given her enough gumption to ask her most burning questions to the doctor.
When he revealed that he needed her help with his scientific research, her stomach had dropped as if the plane had hit the worst kind of turbulence. Obviously he didn't mean an assistant, like her administrative position back home. What then?
A lab rat?
A test subject?
The idea was so foreign, so far off from what she had feared, that it was actually scarier.
Closing her eyes to try to rest as the doctor had recommended, new questions kept forming in Tamara's head. The answers, though, were much too frightening to even consider.
In spite of the fear and her cold extremities, exhaustion won out and she did lightly doze until Dok tapped her shoulder to indicate that they had landed.
Being nearer to the front of the plane, Tamara was escorted out first, after yet another warning on what would happen if there was any misbehaving. Now that Roger was involved, she couldn't imagine doing anything to jeopardize his safety and complied silently.
The window shades had been drawn the entire flight, so Tamara did not know what to expect when she stepped off the airplane. The air outside was almost oppressive in its humidity, despite the early hour. It was a bit of a shock to the system after the much cooler temperatures of the cabin at cruising altitude.
The landing strip appeared to be in the middle of the rainforest. Everywhere were trees, save for where they parted for a dirt road. Seeing no cars present, she feared a long walk through the hot and humid forest was in order. However, after entering the dense foliage and following the road around a sharp corner, Tamara was surprised to see that they had arrived at their destination already. Before them towered the large façade of what she guessed was some sort of massive industrial complex.
Upon entering the building, they were in a waiting room of sorts, similar to what she might have seen at a small airport. It mercifully had a single occupancy washroom the doctor steered her inside to use.
"Wash your face," he said abruptly, then closed the door.
She took a few deep breaths to clear her head, then quickly relieved herself and splashed cool water onto her hot face. The cuffs made it all a little challenging, but it was doable. After patting herself dry with a cotton hand towel, she looked at the reflection in the vanity mirror.
The countenance was startlingly different from the one on the person who had been dancing at Carnival only half a day before.
Three loud bangs on the door made her jump, and she fumbled with the door handle in her haste to open it, not wanting to receive a scolding for taking too long.
The doctor was gone, and instead two soldiers in uniform were waiting outside.
"Time to see the Major," one of them said brusquely.
"To see what?" she asked, unable to catch all the words through the thick accent, but already they were shuffling her off to the next location. "Where is Roger?"
No one acknowledged her questions.
It was a fairly long walk, despite the fast clip of the soldiers, who walked single file with one behind and one in front of her. Tamara found her nerves set on edge seeing the hugeness of the place.
She did receive stares from the occasional passerby, but found that she was much too focused on keeping pace to dwell on the fact. Everyone was wearing a similar type of uniform and any fragments of conversation she caught were definitely in German. She knew a few words because of Roger's interest in the language, but had never studied it otherwise.
They finally came to a gold painted door and the soldier in front opened it, revealing an elegant little room with thick carpet.
"Sit," one of them said, motioning to a fabric-backed guest chair in front of a large mahogany desk.
Wordlessly she did, and to her surprise the two soldiers exited, shutting the door behind them.
Then it was quiet, the only sound a ticking coming from a clock on the desk with visible moving parts. It was almost 9 o'clock. She took note of the large leather chair across the desk from her.
Was she about to meet someone important? In her filthy and disheveled state she couldn't imagine she was presentable enough for anyone. Not that it mattered at this point, she thought.
Other than the clock, the desk was bare but for an ink stand and a box of stationery. Against the wall was a single large glass bookcase with a set of German and English encyclopedias, among other items that may have been antiques.
Her only warning was the briefest muffled sound of conversation coming from outside the door, before it opened without ceremony.
"Ahh, and here you are at last!"
The voice was friendly, belonging to a short and plump man who was smiling at her as he entered the room. He was dressed all in white, with no visible military paraphernalia that she could see. His defining features seemed to be his thick glasses and a grin. Behind him followed a very tall man in a long coat and cap that reminded her of items she had seen at a military surplus store that Roger had dragged her to once. She didn't get a good look at him as the short man had moved behind the desk and was still speaking.
"Pleasant morning to you, Ms. Larson. You may call me Major. Yes, just the Major will do," he said, raising a hand as if to stop her from protesting. "We aren't much for first names around here," he said with all mirth.
Seating himself, he pulled himself close to the desk, the wheels of the desk chair squealing in protest from his weight. "Such a morning we all had. You, of course, must be exhausted. Please allow the captain to remove those cuffs."
A few moments later she was free of all restraint and able to fix the dress strap that had been threatening to slide down her shoulder all morning. Her mind worked quickly as she massaged her red and inflamed wrists, wondering if this was anything resembling an opportunity to escape.
The Major must have seen something in her body language that betrayed her thoughts. "I know what you are thinking. 'Is this my big chance to run away from these awful men?' Well, I am here to tell you that your former life ended yesterday. This will be your new home going forward."
"Where is Roger?" she asked as calmly as possible, in an attempt to ignore his incredible claim.
"Safe, safe, so very safe," he said, wagging his hand back and forth as if it were a trifling thought. "And how long he will remain so is up to you, of course. You don't need me to elaborate further, do you?"
So this excess of friendliness was just for show, she thought, as he was already threatening Roger. She lowered her eyes and shook her head. "No. What is it you want from us?"
"Excellent, to the point then! I wish to talk terms. Think of this less as an interview and more like a negotiation of your employment with our organization."
"Okay then, I'll play along. Tell me about your organization."
"The truth is, it's really quite a long story to try and explain exactly who we are, how we got here, and what our goals are. Now is really not the best time for that monologue, as much as I do enjoy reciting it. But to satisfy your curiosity, we are what is left of Germany's Third Reich. From your perspective, we are unapologetic war criminals that have not been brought to justice by yours or any other government. Captain, would you bring us some water with lemon? She is rather pale."
Tamara could very well believe that she had turned white after finding out that these people were Nazis, after all. The thought had crossed her mind half a dozen times, but she had put the idea down as being too far-fetched.
"Enough about us, though. What about you, Ms. Larson?" He withdrew a folded note from his coat pocket.
"Let me see here. American citizen from birth. Oldest of four, parents still living. High school diploma. Currently employed as a secretary for a small insurance company. Married on February fifth to Mister Roger Larson. Oh, please allow me to apologize for the abrupt end to your honeymoon. You were to return to the States on Thursday, were you not? Timing is everything! Still, you got to have some fun."
"Please stop. Obviously you know all about us. So then you also know that we aren't special. We didn't know about you being here, and I don't even know where we are. So could you please just tell me why I'm here?"
Tamara thought she had been very reasonable and calm in her words, but the Major looked taken aback, as if she had gone on an off-topic rant.
"All right then, you don't enjoy the small talk. I understand."
Captain had returned with two glasses of ice water.
"To the point then. Our Herr Doktor is a brilliant man, the finest I have ever known. You are probably less than impressed with him thus far, but believe me, he has accomplished medical and scientific breakthroughs that border on the miraculous."
Tamara said nothing, but the Major's impassioned way of speaking made her curious where he was going with this line of thought. She drank small sips of the water in silence while he continued.
"I know you have not seen much of our operation here, and I cannot tell you much at this time, but we are rather short-staffed when it comes to women."
She must have unconsciously made a face, because he clarified quickly. "Please don't jump to conclusions. I am not trying to be crass. But the doctor requires a female in order to complete his current project. I admittedly don't know all the details, but he tells me it's the standard sort of thing a person might volunteer for back where you come from: examination, monitoring, blood tests, perhaps an injection here and there. Nothing so awful as I'm sure you have been imagining."
He paused to let her take in this information.
Tamara wanted to believe that it was as harmless as he said, but the pessimist in her was quite adamant. After all the trauma that she and Roger had endured, it could not possibly be as simple an explanation as that.
"So then, what's the catch?"
"You know, I really do like that idiom, although where I come from the expression is 'What's the hook?' Well, the catch is that Dok expects this to take a few years to complete, perhaps two or three. Possibly more."
Tamara clutched the arms of her chair in an attempt to contain her sudden anger. "This isn't a negotiation! This is extortion, kidnapping, and… Is this a game to you?" She couldn't quite get over the Major's complacent smile that he still wore.
"If it is a game, then your only bargaining chip is your full and complete cooperation."
"What happens if I say no?" Her grip on the chair tightened.
"If we find you to be unsuitable for our needs, then I'm afraid you will find your time here to be rather limited. And sadly, we cannot send you back to – what was it? – Dublin, Ohio as you now know of our existence. I hope that clears things up a bit."
So that was that. Be a guinea pig for a crazed Nazi organization in exchange for her own life. For Roger's life.
Tamara brought her hands to her face.
Oh God, I don't want to die.
"I'll give you ten minutes to make your decision. Feel free to get up and walk around if you like."
What do I do?
He turned the clock around so that it was facing towards himself.
Somebody please help me!
His chair creaked as he leaned back into it.
Think think think, what would Roger want me to do?
That was easy, actually, and Tamara felt sudden clarity.
He would want me to stay alive.
But it worked both ways, and she couldn't survive without him.
It was all up to her, as unfair as that was. She would have to make sure that he was okay or there wouldn't be anything worth living for in this place.
She stood up shakily, feeling a sudden need to move her agitated muscles. There was a window to her right and she stumbled over to it. The view wasn't spectacular, but it was lush and green. Seeing it made her feel like a little girl, lost and trapped in the forest.
Her mind was made up well before the Major interjected with "And with that, it's decision time!"
He clasped his hands, and leaned forward. "Well?"
Tamara sat down and hid her hands in her lap, which were shaking. Swallowing heavily, she straightened her back in order to project the confidence which she didn't actually feel.
"Okay. I will do this, but I need one thing."
Major's smile widened and he gestured for her to continue, before refolding his hands.
"I need to see Roger once a day. To make sure he's…safe, as you say. So long as he is, you will have my full cooperation."
"Once a week will be more than sufficient. The terms are most agreeable, are they not?" He held out a spotless gloved hand to her.
It was the best she could do. A verbal agreement made with an insane Nazi who had already taken away nearly everything she possessed. But keeping herself and Roger alive was all that mattered now.
She took the offered hand.
"Welcome to Millennium!"