Atlantis

DALE DASSEL
make sure that his instructions were executed perfectly in his
absence.
“I am leaving tomorrow. You are to follow Fräulein Hapgood
and acquire the artifact in her possession—the necklace.”
“But Jones is protecting her, Herr Oberst,” protested Karl, the
nervous young recruit whom Indy had collared in the theater.
Their commander’s verdict was swift and harsh. “If Jones
interferes, kill him. If you fail me again, mark my words you will
spend the remainder of your career on the corpse disposal squad at
Dachau. Do I make myself clear?”
The Abwehr agents exchanged fearful glances. “Jawohl, Herr
Kerner!” It required extreme discipline to resist clicking their heels
and saluting their superior officer, who had briefed them about
proper conduct on Allied soil. Kerner explained that they were not
to speak in their native tongue, nor exhibit the military reflexes that
were so rigidly cultivated by their training. Any slip-up would be a
risk to the secrecy of their mission, and that was unacceptable.
Kerner’s goal was nothing short of complete world domination.
They could not afford to fail in their campaign to increase the
power and influence of the Fatherland across Europe and beyond.
If he succeeded, history would remember him as the man who
handed the Reich its ultimate victory.
He consulted the most recent intelligence report from their other
agents in New York. “The Americans are leaving for Iceland in the
morning. Here is their flight information. Do not show any mercy
to the woman,” Kerner addressed Karl pointedly, causing him to
flinch.
The nervous young soldier was a recent graduate of the Abwehr
intelligence program, unsure of himself on his first assignment
outside of Germany. The kid was weak, an untested soldier with no
combat experience to harden his nerve or strengthen his fortitude.
At least Kerner could rely on Torsten, his senior officer by more
than three years. Torsten had completed several important missions
for the Regime, proving himself in campaigns on the battlefields of
both Poland and France. He epitomized the cool efficiency valued
by the National Socialist Party. In short, he was a perfect Nazi
soldier. If Karl faltered in his duties, Kerner knew that Torsten
would complete their mission without fail.
“Report to me when you have the other item,” concluded
Kerner, handing over the file to his men. “You are dismissed.” He
turned on his heel and marched from the room without another
word.
***
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