The Quest for Zerzura

2

OSS Headquarters, Washington, D.C.

Climbing up the wide steps and striding past the tall columns on the colonial style building on E Street, Rick wondered how important yesterday's find of that German submarine had been, to have been ordered to report straightaway to the Office of Strategic Services. The department had been created barely a month ago, to gather intelligence in the fashion of the British Secret Intelligence Service. Primarily military, rumor still had it that they also recruited American civilians and even foreign nationals. Perhaps finding a German U-boat qualified him and Ace McNally as good candidates for spies. And flying with the Civil Air Patrol would look good on a resume as well. Rick smiled to himself as he strode through the wide doorway. Rick Montana, secret agent. It had a nice ring to it. And that was a role he'd never played on film. Sometimes life could be stranger than fiction.

Yesterday, after the harrowing landing at Rehoboth Beach, they were not flown back to Atlantic City, but were put on a plane directly to Washington, D. C., a short hop of less than an hour. Upon landing, the film from the cameras was taken by courier to OSS, while Rick and Ace were put up in a nearby hotel that had been hastily reserved for them. Naturally, their imaginations had been running wild, from a presidential commendation to stealing behind enemy lines as undercover agents.

They checked in with a young lieutenant at the reception desk, were told that they had been expected, and were led to an office on the second floor, down a long corridor. They waited in the outer office for a moment, until a secretary came out and said, "Major Briggs will see you now."

Major Harlan Briggs was a sturdily built man of about fifty-five, with short, graying hair, a round face with eyes that shone behind wire-framed spectacles, perched precariously on a bulbous nose. He welcomed them with a warm handshake.

"Come in, come in. I'm sure you two flyboys are wondering what this is all about, why you were called in all the way to the OSS." He regarded each of them with a warm, perplexed smile. "To tell you the truth, so am I. But the chain of command being what it is, each cog in the machinery is only given the information he needs. Apparently, your report has somebody in the Nevada Department pretty excited."

Rick and Ace exchanged glances. Nevada Department? Maybe they really were getting into some clandestine spy stuff.

The Major continued. "I'm only at liberty to say that it has to do not only with that German submarine that you spotted, it's just as much about the heading they were on."

"Sir," said Rick, "the last we saw of them, they were headed away from our shores."

"Ah, I see." The Major pulled down a large wall map showing the eastern seaboard and a good section of the Atlantic Ocean. He buzzed his secretary. "Could you send in the German, please?"

Again, Rick and Ace looked at each other. What was going on here?

What they did not expect to see come through the door was their old friend, Professor Karl Schuler. Remembering their expedition to Tibet, two and a half years ago, in which they'd been led by an enigmatic guide into the lost realm of Shambhala, and what had been revealed there, Montana began to get an inkling of what this might be all about.

After allowing the friends their greetings, Major Briggs turned to the map, a pointer in hand. "All I know is that I was told to forward along any reports of German activity to this area," he said, indicating with the pointer a roughly triangular area from the tip of Florida to Puerto Rico to Bermuda. "Whatever they are interested in there is beyond my knowledge. But it has a group in the Nevada Department pretty concerned."

He walked back to his desk, opened a drawer and spread a selection of photographs out on the tabletop. "I just got these enlargements back this morning from the lab. Take a look and tell me what you think."

As Professor Schuler bent over the pictures, Rick and Ace could tell that they were the shots they had taken on patrol yesterday.

"No doubt about it," said Karl. "The officer on deck is SS. I can tell by the uniform." He took another look and furrowed his brow. He reached for a magnifying glass and peered once more. "Mein Gott," he muttered. "It can't be . . . can it?"

He handed the magnifying glass to Rick who leaned over and got a close look at the SS officer. His breath caught for a second, then he handed the glass over to Ace with a wry smile.

"Whoa, Nellie," said Ace, recognizing the same detail the others had seen. "Well, if it isn't our old friend and nemesis, Lieutenant Dietrich Wulf. How in the world? . . ."

Montana remembered the resounding splash as Lieutenant Wulf crashed through the tile floor in one of the chambers beneath the central citadel of Shambhala. "He must have somehow survived and made his way out, same as we did."

"Except that our Lieutenant has been ambitious these past two years," said Professor Schuler, noting the detail. "Now he's wearing the insignia of Standartenführer—Colonel." He turned to Major Briggs. "This man's identification, coupled with their intended heading, leaves no doubt. You can call your department in Nevada and tell them it is as they suspected."

Briggs of course, still did not know precisely what was suspected, but he could tell that it had to be important. Picking up the phone, he dialed a number. "Penny, could you please patch me through to November Five One?" he told the switchboard operator. He waited a minute or two while the call went through. "It's confirmed," he finally told the person on the other end. "I've been told to relay the message 'as suspected.'" He glanced at the others with a smile. "Yes, ma'am. They are indeed the ones . . .Yes, I'll see to it, right away . . . The German? Yes, he's right here . . . Very well . . . Yes, indeed, ma'am."

"Well," he told them as he hung up, "She wants to see you all ASAP. You included," he said to Karl Schuler. "Go home and pack your bags. You all are going to Las Vegas." He added with a chuckle, "But leave your money at home. You won't be in town long enough to peek inside the casinos."