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| Illustration for "ALEXANDRA AND THE NAUGHTY NUNS OF NUREMBURG" created by the author. Copyright © 2011-2025 Stephen J. Williams. |
First published: 23rd May 2023
Status: COMPLETE & PUBLISHED.
Revisions: 4 [last revised May 2023]
Version: Final.
Published on-line Episode No. 37
Previous episode: "Alexandra and the toymaker of old York."
Next episode: NONE
Angel-in-charge: Peter
Team Assigned: Team 74
Mission: 5 - 690346 - 12 - 1938
This story originally appeared on the author's original website called: 'The amazing adventures of Jericho Tibbs!' and was transferred to the new site: 'The Temporal Detectives' in due course. That 'legacy' site is still available but receives no updates or new material.
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THIS EPISODE MAY CONTAIN THE FOLLOWING WARNINGS:SMOKING - ALCOHOL USE - VIOLENCE [INCLUDING SEXUAL VIOLENCE & BDSM] - STRONG LANGUAGE - GRAPHIC HARD SEX REFERENCES INCLUDING PROSTITUTION AND DIVERSE SEXUAL PRACTISES - DRUG REFERENCES - ANTI-RELIGIOUS SENTIMENTS AND OPINIONS - HUMAN TRAFFICKING - COMMENTS AND BEHAVIOUR THAT MAY OFFEND SOME PEOPLE BUT WERE CONSIDERED 'NORMAL' IN THE TIME PERIOD. |
IF YOU ARE BELIEVE YOU MAY BE OFFENDED BY ANYTHING CONTAINED IN THIS WRITTEN WORK, THEN DON'T READ IT AND CLOSE THE PAGE! CAUTION: “THIS EPISODE COULD CONTAIN VERY STRONG LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE [including sexual violence] HORROR AND GRAPHIC, STRONG SEXUAL REFERENCES. RECOMMENDED suitable for persons aged 18+ years only.”  |
HUMAN YEARS:
This story can be found in "The adventures of Alexandra: Series 4." which can be found on 'Amazon.com' and all good bookshops!
1.
Friday 14th April 1561: 4.35am NUREMBURG, Imperial Free City of the
HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE. [Now Germany]
Fredrick Claus eased from bed and scratched, pulling off his rough night shirt and started to dress in his simple farmer’s clothes, he wiped his eyes and pulled on his boots. He would have a quick wash [his face and hands] in the kitchen. He struck the tinderbox and lit his lamp, carrying it down the creaking wooden stairs and into the cold dark kitchen, then poured some water in a bowel and washed slowly. He could hear the cows calling and wondered if the damn girls had managed to crawl from their beds on time this morning. The cows didn’t appreciate milk maids who were late. He stared at the empty chair by the cold fireplace and sighed. His Helga had been in the churchyard a good two years now, along with their infant daughter. He stood hands on the small rough table and stared at the water in the bowl. He must have stood for some minutes before he managed to jerk his thoughts away from that dreadful morning, sitting by his young wife’s bed, holding her hand, sobbing like a child as the dour midwife wrapped the dead infant in a clean cloth for burial. Then as the evensong church bell rang, he watched in horror as life drained from Helga and she slipped away. As was the custom, the infant was interned with her mother the following day. That day was just a blur now, all he could remember was being on his knees at the graveside, gripping the cold dark earth with trembling hands and sobbing so badly, that the good reverend and his old uncle had to manhandle him away and feed him beer. Fredrick swallowed hard and splashed his face again. He and Helga had grown up together since childhood - first as friends, then lovers - and the loss had been terrible. That’s when he heard voices and a saw a little flickering light through the small window: the girls were here and calling for him.
The trio walked in almost silence towards the cow shed, the girls sharing a fat apple between themselves, walking behind Fredrick who held up his lamp as the sun rose, casting shadows and driving away the darkness of night. As he pulled open the gate to the milking yard Maria suddenly called out gesturing wildly to the sky above the city that sprawled below them. Fredrick almost dropped the lamp and gasped in real fear, horror and surprise as the sky was filling with flying objects that resembled no bird or cloud, he had ever seen.
Large flashes of white, orange, red and black punctuated the horizon. It was like cannon fire from heaven. The sun’s face was now red as the cylinders, crosses and arrows seemed to fight, spinning, falling, rolling and suddenly standing still. One circle of grey, had smoke pouring out and it seemed to stagger and roll, before falling in a slow spiral to earth. All three heard the noise of its impact near the old stone circle that stood on 'Müllers Torheit' [a local large hillock] and watched as a plume of dark smoke lifted into the air, then saw the small white sail shaped like a cup, float down with something dangling from it. “I think it’s man!” screamed Theresa and clutched Maria’s arm. They saw the sail disappear into Huntsman Woods and Fredrick found himself heading down the dirt road towards the forest. He was shouting at the girls to fetch help – any bloody help – and made his way into the woods, looking above to see the strange objects swirling above with more screaming and flashes of light. A huge black arrow moved slowly from east to west above his amazed head.
He stared hard as it passed over him, he couldn’t blink:
it appeared that there were men staring from round windows down at him. It was
making an awful noise; like metal bars being dragged against each other and two
cylinders attacked it with flame and silver stars. But Fredrick continued on,
head down a little holding up his inadequate little lamp. He stood for a second
or two before spotting the flickering of flames and could smell burning. He
made his way there, stumbling over small bushes and fallen trees, finally
managing to shout out if anyone could hear him.
Fredrick stopped before a huge tree and slowly looked up. Hanging above him was a what looked like a man-size girl’s doll in a strange pale blue suit, with a fur jacket and leather cap. Fredrick admired the man’s boots: they were knee-length and laced up tight. But couldn’t understand the bright yellow undershirt that seemed to be filled with air or water. He shouted up at the dangling, silent man and received no reply. Cussing a little he placed the lamp down and started to climb, making sure he had his faithful knife in his boot.
The branch bent and twitched as Fredrick stretched out and cut the thin straps that were tangled up with the tree and the man jerked, then fell a couple of feet to the soft earth, followed by Fredrick. He pulled the soft white scarf and leather cap from the still silent man. Fredrick staggered back and crossed himself, having never seen a human this colour, but had heard that such men exist in the wild land of Africa. A black face with open mouth was staring at him with dark green eyes. Fredrick wiped his own face: he was sweating openly now, some of it from fear. He almost jumped when Maria appeared, panting, saying that Theresa was running to the village to fetch help. She stared at the still dark man and really screamed, grabbing Fredrick close to her. “Is he a demon from hell?” She whispered. [in many medieval paintings, some demons and devils were painted black in colour, they could also be red or green.]
Fredrick gripped her tight and close – it felt good, he hadn’t held a woman in his arms since Helga’s death – and shook his head saying softly, “No, he fell from heaven, so that should mean something good.” They both jumped back as the prostrate figure groaned a little and tried to raise himself but failed and lay back quiet again. “Come on, let’s see if we can raise him.” Fredrick whispered, a little afraid of his own idea, but they tried and managed to sit the man against the tree with Maria wiping his face with her rough hankie. “He’s coming back to us.” She said, her voice trembling a little, wondering if that was actually a good thing for them. As she loosened his strange shirt, she saw the little crucifix about his damp neck and heaved a big sigh of relief, saying softly to Fredrick, “He’s a Christian! By the mercy of God a Christian man.” Fredrick almost smiled, “He fell from heaven, probably fighting demons for our father, who wished us harm.” Maria nodded vigorously then smiled as Theresa joined them with Reverend Henrich Besser, the young parish priest of the village.
A surprised Theresa actually touched the man’s face, muttering, “It’s doesn’t come off, he really is black as coal.” The priest knelt and kissed his rough wooden crucifix and spoke softly to the man whose eyes snapped open and he gripped the fathers hand, kissing his cross and whispering. The father nodded, he understood the tongue spoken – well, a little – it was English and listened intently to the words spoken just above a whisper. The priest nodded several times and started to give the man absolution, but he was dead before the priest finished. The priest closed the dead eyes and stood, walking away, and gesturing for only Fredrick to follow him.
They stood talking whilst the girls clutched each other, and both watched Fredrick carefully. Despite Fredrick being almost thirty now, either girl would accept his marriage proposal – if asked – without hesitation. They were both just turned seventeen, but both knew that a gentle, decent man like Fredrick was hard to find and they would follow their mothers and grandmothers advice about being sensible and marrying an established man who could provide for them and more importantly, for their children. Both girls had the dream of romance and young lovers pushed from their heads by the sheer reality of survival in these times. Marriage to such a man like Fredrick – a kind, hardworking decent man of God – was their goal and in particular, was Maria’s ambition. She had thought of no-one else since she became a woman [i.e. had her menstrual cycle start at thirteen.] At first, she believed it was just a dream until the death of his poor wife in childbirth changed all that. She had determined that she would be the second Mistress Claus: by any means.
That evening, the young priest, Fredrick and his cousin Bruno carried the body to the rear of the churchyard and dug a grave whilst Maria kept watch. The body was laid to rest and the father said prayers for the unknown man’s soul. No stone or marker would be placed above the grave and the four left the graveyard and returned to their normal lives. Father Heinrich sat in his small dim study, lit by two flickering candles, and wrote in the rear of his bible about the strange man and his even stranger words. Captain Jack Harrison, a navy pilot from the US carrier John F. Kennedy had instructed the priest to hide his body and all that fell to earth with him and more importantly, ensure no-one found the wreck of the ‘jet plane’ – Father Heinrich said he had no idea what that was, but said he knew that the dying man meant his flying machine – and made the father swear an oath that it would be done. The young priest was apparently devoted to God and would obey. But he needed to unburden himself and so he wrote events of the very strange day into the back of his bible. But he smiled at his good fortune, as he wrote and stared at the little Egyptian figurine that stood by his flickering candle. "As my master would probably say; Good fortune falls into the hands of those who recongnise it."
It would take a couple of days, with just the three men and shovels, to cover the machine properly. But he had an alternative plan. The priest – again – kept his word to the mysterious dead man with the skin like coal. What did make him smile was Fredrick and Maria talking closely together. Despite the age difference, he believed it could be a fine match, even a happy one. And she would certainly drive the darkness of mourning from the Christian man’s heart and using her charms guide him back to the true prince.
He sat back, twirling his quill between his fingers and wondered what other men would think of his story about a great battle between good and evil some five centuries in the future. He sighed, most would quickly dismiss it as a ‘minstrel’s tale of entertainment’ without hesitation, even if told by a priest! Heinrich certainly knew what Bishop Harold would say and so, silence was the order of the day and for some time to come. The Holy inquisition simply wouldn’t understand. He placed his quill down and closed the bible, now that the ink was dry, and walked to his small church. Evening Mass was his next assignment and then confessions of course. But what made him smile, was now he could call the bands for couple who decided to marry that very day. Everyone would be pleased that Fredrick Claus would stop mourning and embrace life again by taking a young wife. The priest gripped his bible and smiling, greeted his congregation as they arrived for the evening services.
2. Sunday 14th September 1940. OPERATION ‘SEALION’ PHASE THREE. Aka ‘THE FINAL DAYS OF FREEDOM’.
Jericho lowered the binoculars and slipped back into the passenger seat and sighed. “The place is lit up with anti-aircraft fire, but it won’t do much good against jets. They’re hitting the British positions just north of the city [Edinburgh] trying to cut off the supply of fresh troops and equipment being landed at Aberdeen and pushed down the north road. It appears that the bloody Nazi’s have total air superiority due to their jets. I suspect they’ll be in the city within a couple of days, despite the revolt in Newcastle and Manchester drawing off some of their northern forces. They’ll suppress that with their usual murder and torture. It looks pretty hopeless and when the final bastions of Scotland and Wales fall, the fucking Nazi’s will have all of Europe under their boot and the American’s will be next. The bloody ‘V-Rockets’ will carry atomic bombs to the heart of Washington and other major cities.”
Owen was leaning over the steering wheel watching the night sky lighting up with tracer fire and the vivid red, orange and white flashes of bombs falling on the ancient city and it’s defenders. “It’s fucking hopeless Jericho, they’ll be over-run in days as you say. I bloody hope this contact knows what he’s talking about.” Jericho nodded and consulted his fob-watch, “Come on ‘The Piper’ pub is about a mile from here. Professor Klute should have booked in a few hours ago. And like you, I bloody hope he knows what he’s talking about.” Owen started the car and pulled away, driving relatively slowly with the headlights just two slits giving light to guide them.[Wartime ‘blackout’ regulations had headlamps covered, apart from a slit on each, to reduce light showing to enemy aircraft. It caused a lot of accidents, some of them fatal!]
Jericho stared at the dark sky, lit by war. The human timeline had changed dramatically and certainly not in the best interests of humanity: the Nazi’s had over-run Europe and invaded Britain in September 1940, capturing the south coast and sieging London. Now their 2nd Army under Field Marshal Rommel was pushing North into Scotland, where a desperate America was attempting to supply British forces to resist the Nazi conquest. President Roosevelt knew that if Britain fell, so would the rest of the world and that included America. Team 74 had been sent into a very dangerous warzone to sort the mess out and Professor Basil ‘Baz’ Klute could hold the answer to why history changed so dramatically from its original course. Alex consulted her mirror and read with real concern how the future timeline of humanity was changing due to the new events taking place in 1940. The German’s allies – the Empire of Japan – would control most of the pacific, including large parts of India and almost all of northern and eastern Australia. All because of jet planes. The mighty British navy had been powerless against bombing raids of the jets. Ship after ship was hit, sunk or badly damaged, allowing the German invasion barges to cross practically unopposed. The RAF Spitfires and Hurricanes had proved obsolete and useless against the jets: young men in their hundreds died trying to take them on, in the sky above Britain. Then of course, the German’s rolled out their ‘super weapon’, the feared ‘V-Rockets’ which shattered city’s defences and demoralized the population. Now intelligence rumours were reaching London and Washington that the Nazi’s were on the threshold of atomic power and that meant atomic bombs. The prospects for humanity looked bloody grim.
Divij gestured to the motorcycle and side car parked outside the blacked-out pub and lowered his mirror, “He’s here Jericho, that’s his bike.” Owen parked next to it and admired the big machine. “A bloody Harley-Davidson. A machine like that shouldn’t be hooked up to a bloody sidecar. It’s like a having a sodding Arab thoroughbred pulling a milk cart.” Only Alex chuckled at that as Jericho eased out, pushing his mirror away and headed for the pub doors without saying a word: he was deep in thought, if the timeline wasn’t reinstated then the world would be plunged into the darkness of ‘National Socialism’ for decades.
The little group pushed past the ‘blackout curtains’ covering the door and found the place packed! It was mostly local farmers and their workers, with Alex realizing – apart from the bar maid – she was the only woman here. One big man stood out and both Alex and Owen exchanged a glance, “If that’s the professor, then it’s brawn and brains in one big package.” Alex said to Owen quietly, who smiled and whispered back, “Jackie would certainly agree with that.”
Jericho walked straight up to the big man and introduced himself. It was indeed the professor of medieval studies from London University. He had been stranded in the Highlands due to the siege of London: few could get out of the city with German forces encircling it both north and south of the Thames. And of course, few could get back in. So he was staying in the pub [nice place to be stranded!] He shook Jericho’s hand as he was introduced to the team. He and Alex couldn’t take their eyes off each other, and it showed. In modern parlance, the professor would be called a ‘babe magnet’ as he stood about six foot and filled his modest suit with a well-toned body. He had striking dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes. A very handsome man in his late thirties. “A bloody Scandinavian sex god.” Alex whispered to Owen who just smiled. Jericho bought a round of drinks and they retired to a corner table that the landlord had reserved for the professors guests, after a ten-shilling note was handed over. They sat around the table and spoke quietly despite the noise of the patrons who were discussing the invasion, and the fact that Churchill had chosen to remain in the beleaguered capital with his people. The King and the royal family had been evacuated to Canada, under serious protest from their majesties, but Churchill had talked them round.
The professor knocked back his whisky in one hit and slowly opened his battered briefcase. “The German jet program started in 1939 under great secrecy and we know the catalyst or beginnings were in Nuremburg. Now here’s the real enigma, a bloody medieval professor of history – who I do know and have met – was apparently involved in some way in the early days!”
Everyone looked at each other in some amazement and Divij really looked puzzled, “How can that be possible? I mean, what does a professor of Medieval history know about bloody jet engines?” Professor Klute shrugged his shoulders, “The Fuhrer himself decorated him with one of the Nazi’s highest medals. He didn’t get that by spouting Latin or waving old German manuscripts about. He got it by having some major part in the Nazi jet program and I believe I know what it was.” He now had the teams undivided attention. He pulled a single sheet of paper from his bag and passed it round. Everyone read with more amazement about the strange goings on above the old city of Nuremburg in 1561.
He pointed to the two plumes of smoke, apparently rising from a hillside at the bottom right of the woodcut engraving. “I believe one of the machines crashed there and Professor Peter Von Hoff of Saxony University discovered it's location, dug it up and the Nazi scientists reversed engineered it. Where the machine came from is up for debate: there were – obviously – no flying machines of any kind in 1561. So, it was either an Alien craft from another world, a machine from our own future that slipped back in time or….” He hesitated, then continued, “Or crossed over from a parallel timeline or dimension – as our American friends like to refer to it as – which was far ahead of our technology in 1561. It sounds crazy I know, but there’s too much evidence for anything else. In my mind anyway.” He tapped the paper, adding “Then there’s Father Heinrich’s bible from that very year which Professor Von Hoff apparently discovered in a Convent nearby. It’s only rumour amongst medieval scholars because few have examined it, but apparently the good father wrote down where the strange flying machine crashed and where they buried the pilot. I advocate that Von Hoff discovered the machine and that’s why he was so closely involved in the start of the project.”
There was silence for a second or two and Jericho sipped his whisky and asked quietly, “When did the professor discover the bible and then, the machine?” professor Klute now smiled, “I can tell you exactly, I think it was June 6th, 1938, at an archaeology dig at a Neolithic circle of stones outside Nuremburg.”
Jericho gave Owen a pound note to fetch another round and smiled at the professor: Doc Silas’s human agent for this time period had come up with the goods and he had already decided that a trip back to 1938 Nazi Germany was on the cards. He groaned inside already feeling the pressure: this mission simply had to succeed, the alternative – failure – would result in a new Dark Age for mankind.
3. WAR TIME BIKE RIDE AND PICNIC.......
Baz open the throttle a little more and the big bike quickly responded as it turned the corner, flashing past the white washed stone cottage that almost projected into the small country road; well, lane would be a better description. The stone walls running along both sides soon disappeared, being replaced with wooden fences and views of open fields. He eased back on the throttle and shouted down to his passenger, who was clinging onto her hat, "There it is! Bloody magnificent piece of nature, said to be over a thousand years old!" He didn't gesture but Alex would guess the huge tree, that dominated the small woods, sitting alone in a natural circle was the locally famous old tree; 'Wice Cailleach' or 'wise veiled one' seeped in rumours, legends and stories about witches, fairies and goblins. It was a local legend that Robert the Bruce slept under it and dreamt about being made King of the Scots. So, now there was a local tradition that an unmarried woman should spend a night under her [the tree was always considered female] and she would - hopefully - dream about her future husband.
He slowed, and the bike rolled to a stop by a rusted half open gate and Baz sat up, easing his googles off, then pulling the thick dirty gloves off. He smiled broadly, wiping his face with a soft white hankie. "I think a picnic under the old wise lady is in order. You could take a nap and see who your husband will be!" he chuckled slipping gracefully from the seat and unstrapping the wicker picnic basket from the back of the sidecar. "Old ma McFerrin [the pub landlady of 'The Piper', where the professor was staying] said she made a good one up for ten shillings and I have a full hipflask!"
Alex stepped from the side car, ensuring that Baz was treated to a flash of her stocking tops and frilly white silk panties. She smoothed down her skirt and smiled at him, dipping a hand into her handbag, holding up her own hipflask [as you know, she never travels in time without one!] "Great minds think alike." she said softly and gestured towards the tree; "You bring the basket and I'll carry the blanket." He nodded his agreement and held the box with both hands and the pair walked slowly together across the grassy covered field, heading to the big tree some yards away. "Good to stretch my legs after sitting in that box on wheels." Alex chuckled and pushed her free arm through his, he responded by stealing a kiss. She stared into his eager bright eyes and whispered; "Do you want to eat before or after?" He now broadly smiled and agreed that 'after' would be just fine and they now set off in earnest across the field and reached the huge tree. Baz placed the basket down and Alex arranged the thick blanket on a patch of dry grass beneath the old tree and both sat under it, facing away from the road. He rolled his thick 'trench-coat' up and could use it as a pillow.
Alex eased herself down, sitting with her legs pulled up, basically showing Baz what he was about to enjoy. He pulled off his jacket and threw it down as Alex fumbled with his trouser buttons, plunging a hand inside and certainly wasn't disappointed by what she hold off; in fact she was more that happy with her discovery. It moved and grew as she handled it with some care, pulling it slowly out and into the dull Scottish weather. "I think he needs some warming up." she muttered and eased it into her willing and very eager mouth, using her skilled lips and tongue to excite the monster. "Thank God for the magic lotion." she added, thinking about the jar of Vaseline in her handbag - like her hipflask - she never travelled in time without it!
Working his cock with one hand and her mouth; she hitched the hem of her skirt right up revealing her crotch and thighs partially hidden by her 'French' style panties. He groaned a little at that view and wiped his damp face with his hankie. "Jesus Alex, that's the nearest thing mortal man will ever get to bloody heaven on earth!" Baz declared; and meant it! A good ten minutes of expert sucking by Alex as Baz stroked her face and hair set the pair up for some good hard fucking; just like Alex wanted, needed and demanded!
Now Baz knelt between her open leg as she pulled open the buttons on her blouse to reveal she had no bra on and eased her big magnificent tits out; He actually groaned at the sight of her magnificent big breasts and his mouth quickly found her large hard nipples. Now he was gripping her legs with both hands and ran those big hands up and down. Reading the situation well, he moved his hand higher to her thighs and playfully tugged at the top of her stocking’s suspender's He whispered, “My young students call this the giggle band.” Alex with her smiling face close to his, asked why it was called that and he said quietly, “Because if you reach there, you’re laughing.” She giggled and touched his face, “Well, dear sir I think you are laughing now!”
Their mouths met with some real urgency and the pair kissed passionately, both surprised by the feelings that seared through their bodies. He was an excellent kisser and Alex lay back fully pulling up her skirt and petticoats while he tugged down her panties. He quickly pushed deeply between her legs and her hand was tugging his eager hard cock and guiding it towards her already moist fanny, stopping just before pushing it in. Her other hand felt into her handbag and produced the Vaseline like a magician dragging his rabbit from a top hat. That made Baz grin and he took the opportunity to ask quietly about contraception and Alex – with a big smile that he considered that – told him she was covered on that point, so after she smeared his twitching cock with some of the magic jelly he mounted her and asked how she liked it. “Hard, fast and deep as you can go darling” she whispered back and so, that’s how he fucked her, on that blanket with his coat behind her head against the trunk. She quickly had a couple of delightful orgasms and he handled her skilfully, though a little roughly, but she certainly didn’t mind that!
They quickly changed to fucking like dogs in heat; with Baz ramming her from behind, slapping her pink arse and tugging her hair as Alex groaned loudly and cussed him in a very unladylike manner. His big hands soon took possession of her swinging tits and he squeezed them like a baker kneading bread, all the time driving his cock deeper and thrusting hard and fast. That caused Alex to have a deep spurting orgasm which made her body shake and she cussed and cursed him for his skill. They changed back to the 'Missionary' position and now Alex's legs - her stockings loose and baggy - were around his ears as he fucked her without respite and she suffered another big, shuddering spurt of cum and lay back through half closed eyes as the big man used her trembling body for his own pleasure, finally coming some minutes later, with lot's of cussing and thanking the almighty!
They sprawled on the grass and drew several breaths each and Alex needed to pee, so he just lay smiling as she gathered up her skirt and petticoats, then squatted down a couple of feet away and pissed like a horse. He watched carefully and really smiled, enjoying every drop that soaked the grass. He handed her a clean rag and she wiped herself, which was followed by straightening and refixing her stockings but left off her panties. He smiled when she said softly about 'not being quite finished yet' and turned a little, running a hand over her peach shaped arse. Baz now really smiled; he would fuck her back passage without being asked! "Something for later my dear?" He said quietly as she bent right over, adjusting the straps on her shoes and giving Baz a great view of her 'brown flower'. She turned and smiled; "You don't mind some real dirty naughty sex then?" He now grinned; "Is that a fucking trick question?" They both laughed and finished straightening their clothes and walked back to where the picnic basket was, Baz carrying the blanket with a big smile in anticipation of what was coming afterwards.
4. Monday 6th June 1938. AN ARCHAEOLOGICAL DIG SITE, ‘Müllers Torheit’, outside of NUREMBURG.
Professor Peter Henri Von Hoff was a skinny little man with big glasses and uncontrollable black hair. He pushed it down – again – and stared at the local map spread on the bonnet of his big black Mercedes car. A little ‘Swastika’ flag hung limp on it’s pole, fixed on the right side of that long bonnet. There was another on a small silver pin, attached to his jacket that was also thrown over the bonnet. He stood in the warm sunshine in his white shirt, the collar open, and slowly rolled his sleeves up, then straightened his black braces that held up his dark trousers. He was getting his bearings and noticed the buildings of the disused Covent nestling at the foot of the dark woods. The Nazi flag flew above the main building and old chapel. He chuckled to himself and realised that the Neolithic stones were – in fact – in the grounds of the old convent.
His young assistant, Ruth, appeared folding a map and gestured towards the Convent, “They extend from the forest line in an almost pear shape, with the head in the grounds and the tail running back into the forest. I estimate there are at least twenty such stones that remain, or rather that we can still see.” The professor nodded and wiped his face on his sleeve. He smiled at Ruth, a little in admiration and appreciation of her Aryan beauty. She could be a ‘poster-girl’ for the Nazi party with her tight curled blood hair and big blue eyes. But she wore no pin on her blouse [which couldn’t hide her magnificent breasts] and never spoke about her membership of the University’s Nazi Party. She, of course, had to belong to the party, otherwise she wouldn’t be at university!
She had nearly been expelled – and probably arrested – for her protest over the expulsion of Jews from the university, but her father had been a generous donor to the Nazi Party in it’s early days and knew the Fuhrer personally. He dealt with the matter and Ruth was made to apologise to the other students – who stood in silence – in the great hall. As she read from her prepared statement, her bruised eye, neck and right side of her face was obvious. Yes, her father had dealt with his only daughter’s perceived stupidity to the satisfaction of the local Gestapo, who let the matter drop.
The professor had been greatly relieved by her public retraction: Ruth was his best student by far, it was just a pity she was a woman and according to Nazi doctrine, it was her duty to marry and produce children for the Third Reich, especially boys. The Fuhrer was already making plans for the military expansion of his fighting forces, and they would need men: lots of them. [In fact: “Lebensborn e.V.“ (literally: "Fount of Life") was an SS-initiated, state-supported, registered association in Nazi Germany with the stated goal of increasing the number of children born who met the Nazi standards of "racially pure" and "healthy" Aryans, based on Nazi eugenics.] The professor knew she would be given little choice in the matter: she was the ‘perfect’ Aryan female and would be found the ‘perfect’ Aryan male to marry and breed with.
He wiped his face again and adjusted his glasses as the two lorries appeared at the bottom of the small dirt road: it was his team of students arriving with their camping equipment and he watched Ruth wave and smile as they pulled over onto the grass verges. “Tell Franz to ensure the latrines are dug down stream Ruth. It makes the coffee taste better.” He muttered and Ruth laughed which made him smile. She was half his age, but that didn’t stop him thinking of her naked body next to his. Well, that was how many of his troubled dreams went, these days. But he was a scrawny dark haired, man with no Aryan characteristics and so stood no chance whatsoever in fulfilling his sexual fantasies. To his shock and horror, on a couple of occasions the local police and Gestapo had questioned him about possible Jewish ancestry! Lucky the ‘Von Hoff’s’ were an old Germanic family whose ancestors were well known and there were – apparently - no Jewish skeletons hiding in the closet. But he had his suspicions about Franz – his next most ablest student - he had dark hair and eyes, and his nose was a little too big for the professors comfort, but – apparently – the local Gestapo had checked his family out and took no action. So the professor kept those thoughts to himself.
Franz had placed his arm around Ruth’s waist and the pair were laughing together over the professor’s comments about the field toilets. He heard Franz say that he had been a boy scout and knew how to camp. The professor quietly pointed out that the only gang boys should belong too was the Hitler Youth. Franz nodded his agreement and said it didn’t exist when he was a boy and apologised for that. The professor just nodded and directed Franz to set up the tents and cooking area, as they discussed in their briefing before they left the university. Franz released Ruth – reluctantly – and headed back to the students gathered about the lorries with their back packs and cases, shouting instructions and getting things moving.
Ruth smiled at the professor – which he always enjoyed – and asked about who was now using the old Convent. Now the professor did smile openly, “Oh, it’s sort of a rest hotel or club for local party members. The local party leader has invited me to visit tonight. Apparently, they have a very good chef and a band that knows all the old songs that we had sung marching to the trenches. It should be fun, like a regimental reunion. Not that there are many of us left to hold reunions. I know of only about thirty survivors of my old regiment, and it was over nine hundred strong at the start of the war in ’14.” Placing his arms behind his back, he slowly returned to his car and picked up his jacket. Sometimes he still woke screaming in the night, having dreamed he was back at Verdun in 1917. A boy soldier of the Kaiser hiding in a rat- infested ditch filled with dead bodies and parts of dead bodies: clutching his rife and praying not to die, or worse, be wounded by one of the big shells that made men disappear or cut them into several pieces. He had witnessed that horror many times, including three of his best friends in his company. They had been chewed up right before his eyes: all three hit by just one shell. Legs, arms and heads thrown into the air, stomach’s and bowel’s burst open and the screaming….oh God, their pitiful heart breaking screaming racked his mind and sometimes it was so much that he would have to crawl into bed and curl in a ball under the covers, clutching a pillow. Even now he couldn’t stop the sobbing appearing.
He wiped his face again and the anger filled him, “Fucking backstabbing communist politicians! Selling out to the fucking Frenchie’s while the army was still intact and willing to fight. The bastards sold us out and worse of all, made the beloved Kaiser step down. And what followed him? Fucking chaos and poverty. No order, no discipline, no…” He stopped in mid-sentence, realizing he was talking to himself - again.
He picked up the map and noticed his hand was shaking. He gripped his jacket tightly and slipped behind the wheel of his car and started the engine, heading for the open gates of the old Convent. A Nazi party man stood on the gates, his pistol not concealed under his smart jacket with the ‘Swastika’ flag pin attached. He smiled as the professor drove past and stopped at the big wooden doors. He noticed there was several cars parked outside: all with the Nazi flag flying and three had drivers in Army uniform.
Pulling on his jacket, he walked quickly up the steps and pushed one of the big doors and stepped in. It was cool and almost serene inside, despite all the Christian fixtures having been removed: and a huge Nazi flag hung from the ceiling. A young man stood behind the ornate desk and gestured to the signing in book and asked who the gentleman was visiting, as all guests had to be signed for and hosted by a member. The professor signed his full name and told the unsmiling young man that Count Eric Von Hoff was his host and older brother. Now the young man smiled and clicked his heels, “I will fetch the Count at once sir.” And almost marched down the short corridor and rapped on a big door. It was opened and the young man said something to whoever was behind it, then turn and gestured, “Please come professor Von Hoff, the Count awaits you.”
Now smiling the professor sauntered down the corridor and through the door, with the young man closing it quietly behind him. A Nazi officer, his jacket open, glass of champagne in one hand, shook the professor’s with the other. “Welcome Peter, come on, have a champagne, our entertainment has just started.” It was Colonel Paul Von Gott – a friend of his brother – and already a little drunk at eleven o’clock in the morning. There were several men in suits and about five in uniform, but only one wore the black uniform of the SS. His brother Eric. They embraced as a waiter in a neat white jacket and black trousers offered a tray with glasses of champagne to the three men and they all took one.
“You’ll fucking love this my kid brother! The bitch is famous in Berlin and has even appeared at the Black Cat club! Mister fucking Goring is rumoured to have wanked over her feet!” Eric Von Hoff chuckled and gripped his brothers arm, adding, “She is fucking beautiful and doesn’t bat an eyelid about showing off her tits, arse or crotch!” [The Black Cat Club in Nazi era Berlin is mentioned in the episode: ‘Alexandra and the Belin Black cat Club'.]
Peter stared as the makeshift curtain was pulled aside by a drunk young man who shouted obscenities and made rude gestures with his hand on his crotch. He was wearing the uniform of a regimental padre! There was huge applause and shouting as the young woman stepped from the curtain, dressed as a female officer of the Gestapo and Paul shouted joyfully, “Adolf’s Angels!” She pulled the drunk young man to her, kissed him passionately, then slapped his face hard, pushing him away, laughing as he fell on his arse. The gramophone was playing a march from the last war, and she saluted and threw the hat into the air, slowly pulling open the buttons on her jacket to reveal big heaving breasts with gold ‘Swastikas’ hanging from each erect nipple. The men cheered wildly, and several glasses were thrown at the floor, shattering and more drinks were shouted for.
“What’s the occasion Eric?” Peter shouted at his brother over the noise and the Count just grinned, holding up both hands, “Being alive my dear brother and having Germany ruled by our dear Fuhrer, who will rub the fucking Frenchie’s and Tommy’s noses in shit, then wipe out the subhuman ruskies and take all their land and oil!” He burped loudly and waved an arm about, “Then kick the lazy useless Yankee’s arse’s!”
Peter sipped his champagne and watched the stripper – now without her jacket – expertly spinning the Swastikas with her swinging tits. So, the rumours were right: the Fuhrer wanted War, total world war to impose National Socialism on the world for it’s own good. But it wasn’t planned until the mid-1940’s unless events overtook Germany and she had to act sooner than that. Peter knew that the key would be keeping Britain and it’s damn Empire out of the conflict at the start. That’s what fucked the poor Kaiser up in the last one. Britain’s entry into that war laid the foundations for surrender, not defeat, but surrender by the fucking politicians who couldn’t stomach a brutal fight to the death for the sake of Germanic Culture.
The stripper had dropped her neat dark skirt and was parading in her black stockings and panties, which were embroidered with little Swastikas, much to the delight of the crowd. Peter finished his champagne and knew that Germany needed something to tip the balance against Britain’s huge and powerful navy. And the answer was aircraft. Peter was no general, but he knew from many conversations with his beloved SS brother that air superiority would be key to winning the next big European war, or any war in fact.
But his attention was drawn back to the big breasted stripper who had pulled off her panties and thrown them at the audience. The place exploded with laughter, applause and cheering. She had yet another swastika drawn above her shaved fanny! “I want to fucking marry you, you fucking big titted beautiful whore!” Eric shouted, clapping and laughing, accepting yet another glass of champagne from the smiling waiter. Peter smiled and wondered what Countess Viktoria – his sister-in-law – would think of that. The stripper finished her performance and departed quickly before being cornered by several drunk and horny Nazi’s.
Paul grabbed his arm, “Oh, there’s something you might be interested in professor. Right up your street. Found by a bloody barman in the new wine cellar, an old bag containing several ancient books. Do you want them?” Peter just nodded and said he would pick them up tomorrow. “The bastard was going to burn them in the furnace, but they are quite beautiful, not as beautiful as the tits and fanny we’ve just seen but bloody beautiful!” His brother added, scratching his chest and shouting for the waiter to bring more champagne. The smiling young man appeared with fresh glasses and the Colonel grinned at him, “You’re a pretty young boy, you’re not fucking queer are you son?” the waiter shook his head and didn’t smile. The colonel slapped his arm, “Good fucking boy! The only arse you should poke is that fucking stripper’s!” The waiter now smiled and headed for the kitchen to refill more glasses, where he found the ‘stripper’ waiting, sipping her own glass of champagne and eating a delicate sandwich, her ample charms hidden beneath her coat. He waited for the chef to return to the stove before whispering, “The colonel has a bag of books, old books he’s giving them to the bloody archaeologist, tomorrow. It appears that professor Klute was right.” Alex slowly nodded, so, taking her bloody clothes off – again! – had paid dividends. [See episode ‘Alexandra has her own troubles’ for the last time Alex played the ‘stripper’ in the line of duty!]
5. ALEXANDRA ENCOUNTERS A PORTAL IN THE CONVENT OF ST. MARY MAGDALINE, NUREMBURG. (Monday/Tuesday 6th & 7th August 1562.)
6. Tuesday morning, 7th June 1938, THE FORMER CONVENT OF ST. MARY MAGDALINE, NUREMBURG.
The colonel lay on his bed, sipping strong black coffee and reading ‘Völkischer Beobachter’, the must-read newspaper for any self-respecting Nazi. At his feet lay an old canvas bag with some leather-bound books, spilling onto the blankets. He lowered his paper and grunted, then placed the paper down: reading about Adolf could only hold his interest for so long. He would never admit to anyone – except himself – that the ‘glorious Fuhrer’ was a boring bastard. He didn’t drink or smoke and refused to eat meat, like some bloody vegetable eating Indian guru. He pulled the bag to him and rummaged amongst the books. He picked up the old bible and opened it, admiring the beautiful illustrations and turned to the usually blank pages at the rear or where the owning family recorded marriages, deaths and births. He was a little surprised to find a neatly written essay by a certain father Heinrich on Sunday 16th April 1561. The colonel didn’t smile, thinking it was just four days – and a few centuries – before ‘the little corporal’s’ birthday. [A common derogatory nickname for Adolf Hitler.]
He sipped his coffee and read with a growing smile about the strange sky battle that took place over the ancient city nearly four hundred years ago. He sat up and almost dropped his coffee cup when he read about the ship that carried flying machines called the John F. Kennedy. He knew there was a Kennedy in the American government, some Senator he believed. So he now read with great interest about the dead man who floated to earth beneath a cup shaped sail and knew the priest was writing about a bloody parachute! He steadied his racing mind by remembering that the incredible Leonardo Da Vinci had drawn such a device [the parachute] around the same time. [It was actually around 1485 that the great man conceived the idea. It was originally designed to help people escape a burning building!] But the crashed flying machine now really caught his own flying imagination and interest. What if the man had been it’s pilot and bailed out? What powered the machine? Was it an airplane and most importantly, was it a fighting airplane? He wiped his brow and re-read the story about the strange objects apparently fighting each other. He lowered the bible and finished his coffee: his mouth was dry with excitement at his own thoughts.
Then he remembered the Count’s younger brother – the dam archaeologist – was about to excavate at Müllers Torheit looking for bloody ancient stones. But according to the long dead priest, that’s where the flying machine lies. The colonel eased from the bed and slapped the bible against his leg, thinking. Was there any damn truth in this story about a dead pilot buried in the local churchyard and a flying machine buried under a small hill, by the ancient stones. He resolved to find out if there was any merit in the priest’s tale and he shouted for his personal soldier servant. A visit to the archaeologist was in order, then perhaps the old churchyard. Maybe if they followed the priests notes, they could discover the grave of the dead pilot and if the body was there, then surely the flying machine would be – indeed – buried at Müllers Torheit? That’s when he smiled at what the name actually means: Müllers Folly! Was he about to set off on a fool’s errand?
He sighed and gave instructions to his servant to lay out his uniform and call the gatehouse for his driver. It would also give him an excuse – if he needed one – to visit his niece: Ruth Von Gott. He didn’t smile, thinking about his brother slapping the screaming girl until she fell on the carpet, begging him to stop. That had left a bad taste in Paul’s mouth, he abhorred violence against women, especially his pretty little niece who was his favourite by a long way. He was a German officer, a Prussian aristocrat from an old family and licking the Nazi’s arse’s also left a bad taste. He loathed the ‘little corporal’ and his party, but the man was certainly making Germany great again and sticking his fingers up at the British and French. They [the German elite and natural ruling class] would tolerate him until he could be quickly replaced. So the colonel thought, like a lot of the German aristocracy – and many politicians - did at the time. But ‘the little corporal’ was far more cunning and clever then they could ever give him credit for. He was also totally ruthless and obsessed with his own ideas and dogma and they infected far more people than the Colonel could ever imagine. He carefully straightened his smart uniform and checked himself in the big mirror as his soldier-servant brushed him down. “Is the car here Schmitt?” He asked and the soldier nodded, “Yes sir.” And stepped away, clutching his brush. The colonel grabbed the bag, but kept hold of the bible, and handed the bag to Schmitt, “Come on.” Was all he said, and the pair headed for the front yard of the old Convent, where a smart young driver pulled open the rear door and saluted. This could prove really interesting or a pile of crap, Paul thought to himself as the car swept down the gravel drive and through the well-guarded gates.
Parked up some yards from the Convent gates, Jericho sat back and checked his mirror, chuckling at the confidential report he had just received from Temporal Operational Intelligence. Divij smiled and asked what was so funny. He was joined by Alex and Owen – sitting in the rear – demanding to know as well. Jericho waved a hand in the air, then rubbed his chin, sighing loudly. “Just how fucking stupid and gullible the average so called intelligent human is in the 21st Century!” Now that did grab his team’s attention and they pressed him to explain. He sighed again, “Well, as you know, the Dark Side has basically controlled humanity since the early 20th Century and have used all sorts of deceptions and fear producing tricks to keep that control. But what they pulled off in 2029 is an absolute cracker! They used their incredible technology to produce the greatest deception ever fostered on humanity: a full bloodied fake ‘Alien’ invasion of planet earth. It was done using high powered holograms, CGI and quantum computers. They staged a couple of huge aerial battles – which humanity won of course – but ensured that the gullible populations of earth paid for extra security through taxes. Which of course, only lined the ‘elites’ pockets and made them even more powerful. They were able to push more security laws on the people and take away what few freedoms remained, arguing it was necessary to beat the 'aliens' and stop them enslaving humanity. Basically, humanity were now the 'elites' slaves in a cage of their own making.” He stared at the Convent gates and continued, “But the power they used to generate the fake battles caused a time portal to open and the battle appeared in 1561 above the city of Nuremburg, just for a few minutes. But one real plane being used with a real pilot developed engine trouble and crashed, with the pilot – a certain Jack Harrison – parachuting to earth. Unfortunately he was injured – badly – when he hit a tree at some speed, suffering internal injuries I suspect and died. No soul was collected of course: he was way out of his ordained time period and some locals buried him and covered up his crashed plane. I think he may have asked them to do that. We know that the local priest at the time, a certain father Heinrich could speak some English. His grandmother was English, and he came from a noble family. You know the usual, younger son becomes a priest. We think the priest carried out the dying man’s instructions and hid the evidence. Of course, captain Harrison had no-idea that his demise [the plane crashing] would be engraved on a woodcut and Father Heinrich unburden himself by writing the story in the back of his bloody bible.” He gestured to the Convent gates, adding, “Hence we have all this bloody mess and what’s going on in 1940.”
Owen had to chuckle, “Little wonder scholars at the time [1561] didn’t understand what the locals here actually saw, it was like stone-age man watching a bloody war film from the 20th century: they wouldn’t have a bloody clue! And imagine trying to describe that aerial battle when you didn’t even know what a plane was, never mind supposed ‘alien’ spaceships created by powerful CGI.” Alex nodded her agreement, “It would have remained just a strange historical story except a real plane crashed here and they couldn’t retrieve it. So it became part of the current human timeline for centuries, changing nothing until now.”
Jericho nodded, “You have it in one and now I suspect that colonel [Paul Von Gott] will persuade the damn archaeologist to dig it up. But I think the colonel is a careful man, after all we know he’s no Nazi lover, yet he manages to hide that well. I think he’ll be cautious and will…..” Jericho stopped in med-sentence and leaned back in his seat, then after a second or two said quietly, “He’ll want some concrete proof that an aerial battle took place here all those years ago before he has swarms of people digging up those stones. I think he’ll want some indication that the story is true….like the dam pilots body! Yes, that’s what he’ll do to confirm it in his own mind. He’ll find the grave and dig up Harrison’s remains first.”
Divij nodded and smiled, “Inspector, I think that’s spot on. That’s exactly what I would do, a quiet exhumation to confirm things before a massive excavation that will cause a lot of publicity. Imagine if they found nothing, the colonel would look a right twat. But not if he does what you suggest. Yes, I think your right, he'll find the grave first.” Owen tapped his mirror, “So what do we do now?”
Jericho rubbed his hands together, “Well, people, let’s do a little grave robbing first. Our mirrors will soon find the body – if it’s in the old churchyard – and leave a little surprise for the inquisitive colonel.”
7. Tuesday afternoon, 7th June 1938, ST. JOHN’S PARISH CHURCH, NUREMBURG.
Owen and Alex walked the perimeter of the overgrown, old disused churchyard of the picturesque parish church of St. John, now in a suburb of Nuremburg city. “Originally in 1561 this part of the city was a village in it’s own right. But with human progress and population expansion, it was gradually swallowed up by the growing city. The church was actually built in the 1480’s, so it was relatively new in 1561 and burials at that time would be near to the church itself. But we know that the priest wanted to hide the burial, so, he may have interned it near the then outer walls.” Owen lowered his mirror and shook his head, adding, “Nothing yet, all pretty regular with a lot of burials in 1493 when the Black Plague paid a visit….” He stopped and chuckled, “Christ! This one died in 1987!”
Alex checked her mirror and nodded, “Says it’s a certain George Haniski [Russian in origin] and Human records show that his soul was collected that year and he told the Collector that he had been killed while investigating a Witch’s Coven! The Collector did pass the story onto Human Dispatches, but it appears that no team was assigned. They were very clever [the witch’s] to hide their murder victim in what was now a disused cemetery!”
The pair moved on until they heard Divij shout simply, “Got him!” He was beneath a huge oak tree at the very edge of the crumbling stone wall that surrounded the old churchyard. They joined Jericho and walked over to Divij who tapped his mirror, “Jackson Harrison, born 2001 and apparently died in 1561. Obviously, no soul collected because he was well out of his ordained time period. Human Records lists him as a missing soul.” Jericho gestured back to the car, “Owen get the big bag and a couple of shovels from the boot, Lucky for you and Divij, the ground has moved upwards around here over the centuries and his bones are only a foot below the surface now. Another hundred years and they will be poking through the grass.”
Owen wandered off and Alex asked what Jericho had in the big bag. He rubbed his chin and smiled, “It’s perfect for stuffing the loose bones of the very late Jack Harrison in, but it also contains something special that Supplies found for me. It never ceases to amaze me what those buggers can find if you ask them nicely!”
Owen slapped the bag down and threw Divij a long-handled spade, “Come on sarge, let’s earn our pay!” Divij didn’t smile and just muttered that they didn’t get bloody paid. They started to dig with little enthusiasm until Jericho told them to put their backs into it, he didn’t want to hang around here all bloody day. Alex unzipped the big bag and laughed outright and slapped Jericho’s arm, “Where the hell did you get that mouldy old thing?”
Jericho smiled, “It’s quite genuine, a dummy of a court jester or fool as they were known at the time. Made by a toymaker in Munich in 1549 for a clock which would have stood in the city centre, but the building burnt down before it was even completed, and the project was abandoned. Old Joe found it for me. He a cracker at digging up unusual stuff and he turned up trumps with that!”
Alex poked the strange large doll and sniffed, holding her nose, “It stinks! What did he do with it, to get it into that state?” Jericho chuckled, “Jumped back 1220, buried it and returned in 1600. So it has genuinely laid in the ground for around four hundred years. Now our professor will have it tested and discover it could have easily been buried here in 1561. A fool’s doll for a fools errand, so the good colonel will believe….I bloody hope he does!” Alex had to grin, her inspector was something else!
Divij and Owen didn’t take a break and soon exposed the sad remains of the young pilot and the skull and bones – now almost brown with age, were gathered up and stuffed in the big bag. They found his ‘Rolex’ wristwatch and clipboard that would have been fitted to a leg. Jericho took it and lifted the plastic cover and stared at what lay below. “Good job we recovered this, here and now, Mr. Harrison was making notes on how well the show was going. Say’s there was nine planes involved, firing off side missiles – blanks of course – and the ‘green screen’ used to project the CGI on, was the sun itself, but it had – for some unknown reason – turned red. They just adjusted the holographic projections for a red background, and everything was fine.”
Owen pushed a thigh bone into the bag and nodded, “That explains why the locals said the sun turned red. That was the colour of the background that was exposed, apparently only the part that covered the sun’s face. Pretty interesting that.” He accepted a ribcage from Divij and pushed that into the bag. “What are we going to do with his bones Jericho?” he asked, and Jericho gestured down the road, “Dump them in a ditch or something. After all, he was no bloody war hero fighting for his country. Just the bloody opposite: allowing his masters to enslave people and probably getting paid good money for it. So, in a way he sold his soul to the Dark Side. A dirty ditch seems fitting for a rat who betrayed his own.”
Alex and Jericho now positioned the smelly dummy and Divij started to backfill, with some help from Owen who moaned about his ‘poor bleeding back’. Jericho checked his fob-watch and gestured to the car, “Come on let’s get the hell out of here before the mad professor and colonel turn up.” Owen rubbed his chin and rolled down his sleeves, pointing to the now Jester’s grave. “Won’t they see that the earth has been disturbed recently and be suspicious?”
Jericho nodded, “Oh no, they will find the earth undisturbed because none of you checked your mirrors for the local time before we started to dig. It’s 1722 at the present. That’s how come I didn’t post a lookout, so when they arrive in 1938, this ground would have lain undisturbed for over two centuries!” Alex shook her head in real admiration and said quietly, “No bloody wonder you are regarded as one the best Inspectors the department has ever had.” Owen had to agree with her as the team walked back to the car now back in 1938. The ‘Fool’s dummy’ had now lain in the grave for over two hundred years due to just a few minutes of clever time travel. The other team members had been too busy to notice they had slipped back in time!
Owen looked back at the ‘grave’ and had to laugh, the grass was long and overgrown and matched perfectly the rest of the old churchyard. “You’re a fucking clever bastard Mister Jericho Tibbs!” he muttered to himself and heaved the shovel onto his shoulder and was still smiling when they reached car. The bag of bones and shovels were slung into the boot and Divij pulled the car off the grass verge and drove down the gravel road at slow speed. They just turned into small road that ran back to the convent, when Alex, looking out the rear window saw the Colonel’s and professors cars turning onto the gravel road. “They’re here!” She announced and sat back, grinning.
The colonel stood with the open bible in one hand – re-reading the text – and gesturing with his free hand. Franz and two other students stood waiting, shovels over their shoulders. Ruth interrupted her uncle, “But uncle Paul, the priest says near the 'new tree’ but that was in 1561, so we should be looking for the one of oldest tree’s here, that’s if it still stands of course!”
“Your right….your right….We’re looking for a very old tree near to a new stone wall, sorry, again, an old stone wall.” He lowered the book and suddenly smiled, pointing with he bible to the large tree that had grown through part of the wall. “There! That fits the bill I think!” He managed to restrain his excitement and the group walked over, to where Jericho and Team 74 had stood just minutes ago, well, a couple of centuries ago actually…..
”Here, this is where we will dig.” He said with some authority and stood back, and with real anticipation, he whispered to the professor, “If the pilot is here, then the fighting flying machine does lay under the stones!” Peter just nodded and stared up at ‘Müllers Torheit’ and wondered how accurate the bible story was, after all, the woodcut of the whole strange episode put the rising smoke [from a crashed machine?] opposite St. Lorenz church spires, which would mean the machine came down between the church and the castle. He turned his head a full 180 degrees and stared at Castle and folded his arms, thinking ‘the pilot may be here, but the priest back in 1561 may have recorded the wrong hillock, after all, the pilot parachuted down, so logical and rational thinking dictates he must have come down away from the machine, not next to it!’
Peter kept those thoughts to himself as he watched the students carefully excavating the ‘grave’. Ruth stood next to him and folded her arms, saying quietly, “If the supposed pilot is here, then he jumped from the flying machine before it crashed, so he could have been found miles from the crash site.” Now that did make Peter smile; “You are quite right Ruth, but will your uncle listen?” She just sighed at that. He added “We need to consult and study other contemporary documents on the strange incident before we commit spade to earth.” Now Ruth agreed whole heartily with that conclusion and was about to answer when the students stopped and shouted for the professor: they had found the doll. Peter and Ruth managed to hide their smiles as they stared at the ragged, mouldy Jester with his pointed hat and rotten ribbons and bells. Then Peter stopped smiling and ran a hand over his face, “I have seen the doll before, in a broadsheet from 1722. It was stolen that year from a museum in Berlin and vanished forever….well, until today, it’s called the ‘Munich Jester or Fool’ and was made in 1549 by a famous toymaker of that time. Someone is playing a very clever trick upon us I think.”
The students pulled the doll from the clinging damp earth and carefully laid it out on the grass. They were laughing amongst themselves until told to shut up by the irate colonel who slapped the bible into Peter’s hand muttering, “I will leave the matter in your hands Professor Von Hoff.” And walked quickly back to his car, head held high. Now the students did laugh outright.
Ruth and Peter sat in the car as the students loaded the doll into the boot and Ruth flicked through her large field notebook, stopping at some notes. “Professor, there is a reference to the incident in 1561 recorded in the records of the old Convent. A certain Mother Superior Maria in 1564 states that officials from the Prince – it doesn’t say which Prince - arrived in the city to collect all records of the incident and interview anyone still living about what they actually saw. They stayed at the Convent for some weeks, gathering evidence and statements, then left. She says the Convent received some gold coin for its help in the matter.”
Peter sat gripping the wheel as the students climbed into the rear seat, talking and laughing about the colonels reaction. “Is there a record of their visit in the Convent’s archives?” Ruth nodded, “Apparently there is a thin Journal in the old library that contains their conclusions. Well, it’s existence was recorded in an audit when the property was sold to the National Socialist Party in 1936. Whether it still sits there is another matter.” Peter smiled starting the engine, “Well, let’s find out my dear.” And the big car pulled away, heading for the Convent.
8. Tuesday evening 7th June 1938, THE FORMER CONVENT OF ST. MARY MAGDALINE, NUREMBURG.
After dropping the rowdy students off at the dig site camp, Peter and Ruth pulled up outside the old Convent main building and immediately noticed the increase in guards about the place. They were stopped by two uniformed gestapo officers who demanded their papers and the reason for their visit. Ruth handed her Identity papers to the unsmiling corporal and quietly told him she was visiting her uncle: the colonel. The corporal just nodded but paid far more attention when the dour professor handed him his identity card. The young man now smiled as the professor stated he was guest of his brother, the SS colonel.
They were allowed to pass immediately after the corporal explained that Höherer Fliegerkommandeur Jan Lubricin [a very senior commander in the Luftwaffe] was visiting from Luftkreis V [a command section of the local Luftwaffe: it’s HQ was in Munich.] Peter just smiled and said quietly to Ruth, “Now that explains all the extra guards and officers, but somehow I don’t think your uncle will discuss the crashed flying machine with him, after what happened this afternoon.” Ruth managed a little smile and the pair walked up the worn steps and into the hallway. They needed to find the library and asked at the reception desk. It was the same young soldier who had dealt with the professor yesterday and so, was most helpful and very attentive to Ruth.
Peter nodded and told her to continue which she did: “Apparently, she was found with a man in her cell who also mysteriously vanished before he could be apprehended by the inquisition. The mother superior states the man claimed to be sent by a prince to investigate the strange incident in 1561.” She looked at the professor and he grinned, “Now we’re getting somewhere, what happened?” Ruth shrugged her shoulders and finished reading, “They [the church authorities] could take no action since the mysterious man and naughty nun had vanished, but the strange people seen around the Convent ceased to appear and everything was quiet again.”
She placed the paper down and rummaged in the box again. Disappointed by finding there was no Journal from 1564, but yet another letter to the bishop about the gardener, a certain Adolf Klopp who had been dismissed and disappeared before the Inquisition could question him in 1565. The mother superior had stated that the man had lost his mind – he was known to like beer - claiming that spirits, ghosts or demons had appeared in the catacombs of the old pagan burial chambers beneath the ‘hill of stones’ – where he cut the grass apparently – and demanded to know where ‘the devil’s sky machine’ was!
They both stared at each other and said simultaneously: “The Devils sky machine!” The professor wiped his face, he was sweating openly despite the cool of the little room. There was a strange silence between the pair for a few seconds and the professor wiped his face again, “There existed pagan catacombs below the stone circle in 1565! I wonder if they are still there.” Ruth leaned back against the cold stone wall of the room and took a deep breath, “Well, professor, we have a team of Archaeology students and a permit to dig around the stones. I think we should just dig a little deeper!” He nodded his approval and Ruth slowly replaced the manuscript copy back in the box. The professor stood and stretched his legs, “We’ll start first thing tomorrow morning, but I think we should keep this new, relevant information to ourselves for now. This is my….our find and if the damn ‘devils sky machine’ is actually there, then it’s our find!”
Ruth found herself nodding: that would be an incredible start to her career as an Archaeologist and she wanted it more than anything. Now really excited, they left the little room and headed back to camp: they needed to change for the diner and party tonight. The pair were in very good spirits and now, looked forward to the Nazi’s party with some joy.
Owen – still playing a waiter – refilled wine glasses as required and moved slowly down the table, the pleasant man in the brown suit gestured to his glass and thanked Owen as the wine was poured. Owen almost poured the wine over the guest as he read his table setting card, “Herr Wernher von Braun” and realised who the quiet man was. He finished the table re-fills and headed back into the kitchen and found Alex sipping coffee, waiting to repeat her earlier performance. She lowered the cup and cussed softly, “Of all the people to be here at this time, bloody von Braun, the big daddy of the Nazi rocket program!” Owen nodded, “He’s also known as the father of space travel, despite being a Nazi, the Americans grabbed him after war for their space program. Some say, he should have been on trial here [Nuremburg] with the rest of the rats.”
Alex placed her cup down, “Get a message to Jericho, he’ll need to know about this.” Owen just chuckled, “He’s sitting three seats down from old Höherer Fliegerkommandeur, did you forget?” Alex smiled, ”Well, make sure he knows, but I’d guess that he has already spotted the man.” Owen smiled at the group of young girls who were waiting to perform: they were dancing traditional German folk dances for the evening’s entertainment followed by a comedian and then Alex. Owen headed back to the tables with two more bottles of wine. Alex thought about the sheer co-incidence of the ‘Rocket’ man von Braun being here, with a modern jet fighter possibly laying just yards away. Then she remembered what Jericho always said, “There are few real co-incidences.” She walked to the service door and opened it slightly and stared at the packed table, spotting Jericho in conversation with a Senior SS officer, whilst professor Von Hoff was sitting next to Colonel Paul Von Gott and his niece Ruth. Colonel or Count Von Hoff was deep in conversation with the guest of Honour Höherer Fliegerkommandeur Jan Lubricin. The brilliant Engineer – von Braun – was chatting with a pale individual who looked totally out of place with an ill-fitting suit and Swastika armband. Alex stared at the young man and wondered where she had seen his odd likeness before.
The young girls trooped by and out into the dining room to perform to a very good reception. Alex sat back and a happy kitchen assistant topped up her coffee cup. Then poured one for the big fat Comedian who had appeared, already sweating. He was very friendly and spoke to Alex immediately, telling her a joke about a young man who took his mother-in-law and a cement mixer on his honeymoon. It just made Alex smile and that was ‘only just’. But they did chat until a rough looking man in a smart black suit appeared and told the comedian he was on.
He smiled at Alex and
said he would announce her as soon as the fat comedian finished his turn. Alex
asked him about the ‘famous and celebrated’ Engineer von Braun and the Nazi just
smiled saying that he had appeared with a local man – a party member of course –
and they were after an hour or so with the Höherer Fliegerkommandeur.
Alex turned on her charms and seemed fascinated by von Braun and asked who his friend was. The big Nazi shrugged his shoulders and said nonchalantly, “All I know about him, is what’s on the guest list darling, he’s a Herr Heinrich Besser and a member of the local party here. He bought Herr von Braun with him, apparently, they are going sight-seeing together or something.” He chuckled and disappeared through the swinging service door.
Alex almost dropped her coffee cup when she realised where she had heard the name ‘Heinrich Besser’ before. He was the bloody priest who’s story started all the timeline changes and now she knew why. He was a bloody time traveller!
9. Wednesday morning 8th
June 1938, THE CIRCLE OF STONES ON ‘MULLERS TORHEIT’ DIG SITE, NUREMBURG.
Jericho lowered the small pair of binoculars and cussed loudly, “He’s a tenacious bastard, I’ll give him that.” He leaned on the old stone parapet and sighed. He had watched young Ruth and Franz giving dig instructions to the keen students while professor Von Hoff spread a surveyors map on the bonnet of his car. “He’s going for it, and we need to put an end to this – quickly – the situation in 1940 is now getting quite desperate.” Jericho added and cussed again. Divij stood next to him and folded his arms, “According to Human Records, there is a large pagan burial chamber below those damn stones which has been sealed – apparently – since about 320AD. What better place to store the remains of that jet fighter, but the priest said they covered it with dirt, so who moved the damn thing to the catacombs and when?”
Jericho handed the glasses to him and pulled his mirror from his pocket, “Since we know that the bloody priest has the ability to time travel, it could be him. Wait a hundred years or so and shift the damn thing with a new set of people, or something like that. Heinrich certainly won’t be recognized by anyone around today, he is probably the only man alive who actually saw the aerial fight being projected and the plane crash for real. So he knows the value of jet fighters and bingo, we find him next to bloody von Braun at a Nazi party dinner. So, we will have to move fast and find the remains of that fighter and destroy it.”
“Little wonder that priest was so casual about meeting a man from the future, he probably has visited the 21st century and found out about the bloody ‘Alien invasion’. Probably read about the strange Nuremburg incident and realised the significance of it and the fact that a jet plane, already in existence was laying in the dirt there, and could have been reverse engineered by Nazi rocket scientists and help Germany to win the war.” Owen said and checked his mirror, it was updating.
Alex stepped back from the parapet and smiled: the view of the city was fabulous from one of the spires of the old church of St. Lorenz and Owen agreed with her. Jericho rubbed his chin and though hard. “Let’s find out if the damn thing is actually there. The last reference to the ‘flying machine’ was in a letter sent by the mother superior of the Convent to a local bishop back in 1564. So, I think we’ll jump there and see for ourselves, come on.” The team followed Jericho down the steps and back to their car, with Jericho checking his mirror and contacting Operational Control to log the time jump. He was a little surprised to find that the on-duty controller corrected his jump date by a year.
Apparently, the good mother superior had written the letter late in 1564 and the bishops office had received it some weeks later, which was now 1565. Jericho grunted and turned to Alex and Owen, “Do you two fancy playing novice nuns?” and didn’t smile. But Divij chuckled, starting the car, “Some time in holy cloisters may improve your lacklustre morals.” Alex and Owen didn’t reply, and Jericho just sighed under his breath. They needed to contact someone back there who knew the area well and Jericho believed he had already found the right soul for the job: a certain Adolf Klopp, the Convent gardener who would certainly know his way arounds the extensive grounds of the then working Convent. If an entrance to the place still existed back in 1564, then – maybe – he would know about it or could tell the team about any legends or stories about the place, that could guide them to it.
As they drove back to their hotel, Jericho read the man’s Human Record and found he liked a drink and the company of women who were certainly not nuns! “Yes, that’s our man.” He said quietly to himself and fiddled with the little Nazi flag attached to his jacket lapel. Then glanced at his sergeant – Divij – and smiled a little, He certainly couldn’t attend a Nazi crowded, old Covent even if he was playing a high-ranking Nazi’s driver. There would be too much suspicion and far too many questions. Owen would have to drive the damn car, while he [Divij] fiddled his thumbs back at the hotel. The staff had given the tall Indian some real strange – and frankly – hostile looks and the local Gestapo had already checked his papers: twice. But his cover story was now part of human history [until the mission ended] and as usual, appeared quite genuine for this time and place. But he had drawn real unwanted attention to the team and Jericho decided to err on the side of caution: the mission was far too important to pander to Divij’s hurt professional pride. He could sit this bit out.
“I think we have about forty-eight hours before they start to dig in earnest, so we need to discover if there is a plane under those stones and quickly. If it does exist, we’ll destroy any trace of it.” Jericho said, staring out the car windscreen as Alex and Owen argued over how novice nuns behaved. Owen won, after all, he had been a novice monk and that was close enough!
Divij parked across from their small hotel, and they headed inside to their rooms. Jericho had a decent room on the second floor with Owen whilst Alex had a very nice single room on the first floor. Divij had a small attic room on the third floor, and he moaned about that, believing it was deliberate because he was Indian. Strangely enough, no-one argued with him. But they all met up in Jericho’s room after lunch and jumped back to 1564, meeting Supplies for their costumes and props.
10. Monday 19th October 1564, THE CONVENT OF ST. MARY MAGDALINE, NUREMBURG.
The tavern was packed for a Monday and Jackie asked if anyone did any bleeding work around here. The team had found a rough table, with equally rough seating, near the rear door which led out to the back courtyard. They discovered quickly why the seats were empty; the small, cobbled back yard contained the privy’s! A heady mixture of shit, urine and horse’s wafted through the open door regularly. But the flagon’s of beer were excellent, and they waited, talking softly amongst themselves and were really surprised that no-one paid too much attention to the tall Indian sitting quietly, not partaking in the beer, in the corner.
Jericho tapped Alex’s arm as a tall man, scratching his ‘goatee’ beard appeared in the doorway, carefully checking his purse for coins. “That’s our man Alex, Adolf Klopp the Convent’s wayward gardener. It shouldn’t be difficult for you to hook him and introduce us.” She nodded and smiled, easing back her cloak to reveal that her tight bodice was fighting a losing battle with her magnificent bosom. Adolf wandered in and shouted to the pock marked barmaid for ale. The middle-aged woman certainly knew him, she demanded he show some coins before bringing him a beer! “Show the bloody money Adolf Klopp, you know the bloody rules now. No money shown, no bloody beer given out!”
That was Alex’s cue, she had done her background research on Klopp and jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm. “Adolf Klopp? The brother of Anna Klopp? I was a friend of your dear sister, we were in service together at the castle! I just found out that poor Anna has passed over to a better place. She always said I should look you up when back in Nuremburg. Are you still working for the bishop?” Klopp couldn’t take his eyes off those heaving big breasts and managed to smile. “No, well, yes. I work at the Convent now Fraulein …” he just smiled. Alex pointed to her herself, “It’s me, Alexus, your sisters dear friend from the castle.” He stared at those breasts and scratched his little beard again, half nodding, when Alex shouted at the barmaid to bring another round and one for her ‘dear friend’ Adolf. The barmaid did it immediately, she had seen the heavy purses the strangers were carrying.
Still a little puzzled and surprised he joined the table and was introduced to his late sister’s ‘dear friend’s’ companions. Jericho, a merchant who traded in women’s gowns and silks from Persia. His younger sister, Schaklyn, who was his model and of course, he probably knew that Alexus was a dressmaker. His late sister would have told him that. He just nodded – again – and supped his very welcome free ale, staring at the tall Indian who was introduced as the man who sold Jericho silk and furs from the east.
By round three, Adolf had embraced his new and very generous friends and was talking openly and freely about himself, the Convent, and the strange sign from God three years ago. He had his arm around ‘Alexus’ and they joined in the singing that swept the bar occasionally. Jericho skilfully questioned the man without him even realizing that it was questions and not just idle beer fuelled conversation.
By round five they were all ‘dear friends’ according to the very happy gardener who occasionally ran his hand up Alexus skirt under the table and found that she didn’t reject his advances. He almost choked on his ale when Schaklyn placed a hand on his leg, as did Alexus, also under the table. Both girls smiled broadly at him, and he seriously believed he had died – and not noticed it – and gone to heaven! Finally, he pulled everyone close and almost in a whisper [he didn’t want an ‘interview’ with the Inquisition] and spoke about he strange going’s on at the Convent and that it was almost considered heresy to mention the pagan catacombs below the magic pagan stones. But he knew how to access them [now that really did make the wily Jericho smile] and spoke about seeing ‘Satan’s flying machine’ fall to earth. He kept looking around when in added that to the conversation, really fearful of being overheard.
Jericho asked how the ‘flying machine’ was carried into the catacombs and the drunken gardener winked and tapped his lips. “Good father Heinrich arranged that with old man Helmut – the brewer – they used his big cart and giant horses to drag the thing to the ‘Devil’s Mouth’ and down into the catacombs.” He looked about and almost giggled, “But God was watching my dear friends and not some weeks later, after terrible rain that lasted for thirteen days, the cave entrance collapsed, and half the ridge came down. It would take an army of men, a century to dig it open again! Dear father Heinrich was beside himself and I think he actually wept.” He looked around for a third time before adding, “I think the so-called good father is just like a stage actor who, when off-stage is someone else.” Everyone smiled at that revelation, Klopp was certainly more astute than most of his contemporaries would ever give him credit for.
He accepted yet another flagon of ale and grinned, tapping the side of his head and winking to press the point home. “Listen my friends, this is no lie or tall tale. Only old sister Angelia and I know the other entrance to the pagan’s hell hole. You can’t get the cursed flying machine out through it, but you can visit, if you have ice for blood and the courage of a lion!” Now Jericho was really interested and asked about this other entrance. But Adolf shock his head, swearing that God himself would curse him for revealing it’s whereabouts. But Alex whispered in his ear, then Schaklyn whispered in the other and he smiled broadly, holding a finger to his lips, then promptly told everyone where it was!
The girls helped the drunken gardener back to his home which was a large shed in the grounds of the Convent while Jericho and Divij followed behind, checking their mirrors for the location of the other ‘devil’s Mouth’ and found that Adolf hadn’t lied: it existed in this time and place.
Jericho shone his mirror down the old well and smiled, the well had apparently dried up almost thirty years before and the Convent had a new one dug on the far side of the grounds. Thus it had laid abandoned and was now in a state of disrepair. Divij peered over his shoulder and didn’t smile, “It’s a good job we’re not fat bastards Jericho, otherwise we could get in real trouble here.” He tested the strong metal tripod, [Supplies had dropped off some kit at Jericho’s request] hammered deep into the grass and checked the rope ladder again before throwing it down the dark hole. Jericho just sighed and threw a leg over, gripping the first rung, “Come on Divij, let’s get this done, there shouldn’t be too many rats.” Now that did make the sergeant shudder a little: he really didn’t like rats.
Jericho descended slowly in the darkness and landed into a puddle of water about six inches deep: there were no rats, but part of the wall had collapsed, and he shone his mirror into a wide hole. He could make out a large chamber with a stone vaulted ceiling and whilst there was some water on the floor, it wasn’t deep, again, about six inches in depth. He called up to Divij to join him and the nervous sergeant started his descent, squeezing next to Jericho panting a little. “Well, there certainly is a bloody big cavern down here and I suspect that the well dried up when that part of the wall collapsed. Let’s go see if there’s a bloody American fighter plane down here.” The pair eased through the hole and wadded quickly through the dark, filthy water with Divij praising his bright green wellingtons. [Supplies really could provide anything a team wanted, apparently at the drop of a hat too!]
Jericho checked his mirror while Divij shone his around the damp quiet chamber. “Several burials, with all souls collected at the time of departure. The last one was interned in 310AD a local pagan priest called Jen who – according to his Human Record – liked goats for his sexual partners!” Divij just grunted his disgust, then tapped Jericho softly on the arm, “Now that canvas sheet is not from 310AD is it.” Both men headed for it and Divij grabbed a corner to pull it back, but it came away in his hand: it was totally rotted. Jericho lowered his mirror, “A ship’s sail made in 1559.” They managed to pull away several feet of the decayed cloth and Divij shone his mirror at the still gleaming metal. “If I’m not mistaken that’s a little American flag and…” Jericho interrupted him, “It’s a F-35A from the early 21st Century, made by the Lockheed-Martin corporation and it’s somewhat too early for 1564.” He said quietly and cussed loudly. Now they had a real fucking big problem on their hands, this piece of the wreck contained part of the cockpit and a great deal of the engine. Jericho knew that the Nazi scientists of this time where skilled enough to ‘reverse’ engineer the engine: they were building bloody ‘V-Rockets’ after all!
He wiped his face and stared about the old crypt, formulating his plan, they certainly couldn’t remove the damn thing, so it had to be destroyed in situ. “Any Ideas?” Divij asked softly and yelped a little as a rat ran across the wreckage and disappeared inside.
That’s when his mirror shone into the badly damaged cockpit, which still had the seat in one piece. He held a hand over his mouth for a second or two, then said very quietly, “The fucking pilot is still sitting there and strapped in. But missing an arm from what I can see.”
Jericho lowered his mirror, “Captain Graham ‘Buzz’ Aldrin, a navy pilot who went missing in 2029 from his carrier, the US John F. Kennedy. No Soul collected, which is not surprising since he died nearly four hundred years before he was born. So, we have two fucking dead pilots and where the fuck is the other plane?” Divij shrugged, he didn’t bloody know. But their situation had gone from just shitty to total cesspit level. The skeleton seemed to be mocking them with its eternal grin and they stepped back and again stared about the gloomy damp chamber. After a few seconds, Jericho grunted, “I think we’ll fill this place up. A little collapse will hide a big secret.” Divij nodded, ”Supplies can get us some of that explosive, used in that bloody war at the end of the 21st century, it’s almost silent when it goes off. Then everyone will think it’s a sinkhole or just a collapse. I can’t see them digging down to find out.”
Jericho slowly nodded his agreement and sighed, there were few choices and that would certainly do the job. “Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here and pick up the girls. I’m sure they are really enjoying babysitting a drunk medieval Gardner!” They headed back through the hole and ascended the ladder, removing the tripod and folding up the rope ladder. Divij put the call into Supplies to retrieve it. They walked slowly back towards the quiet dark Convent, and both wondered where the hell the other crashed jet was.
That’s when they both stopped and stared across towards the dark thick woods opposite. There was vivid white and orange light flickering and Jericho consulted his mirror and said with some surprise in his voice: “There’s several humans – men and women – in the woods with a big fire.” They both exchanged a concerned look and Divij said quietly, “Witches?” Jericho nodded slowly, they would have to take a discrete look.
They moved carefully and quietly through the trees and stopped a few hundred yards from the blazing pile of wood, which was surrounded by seven humans, all dressed in black cloaks with the hood up. “Too bloody cold to prance around naked.” Divij said and realised he was sweating despite the chilly October night. They watched as one – probably a Warlock – raised his hands to the moon and chanted in a deep almost hypnotic voice, about the blessings of the ‘Dark Master’. The other’s all chanted a reply and began to move around the fire, slowly at first, then faster, throwing their arms into the air.
Jericho rubbed his face and gestured for him and Divij to sneak away: he would call this incident into Operational Control to pass onto the Intelligence section. What would be done about this particular coven of witches would be up to the duty controller. They disappeared into the trees and headed back to the Convent. Divij turned for a final look at the witches and stopped in his tracks, grabbing Jericho’s arm, “I think we should take a closer look, I think the Warlock is wearing the late captain Harrison’s bright orange safety vest!”
They both headed back and stared at the ritual being played out and Jericho lowered his mirror, “Two of the women are nuns at the bloody Convent, there’s the local Baker and his wife, the local magistrate and a midwife and the Warlock is…..” he stopped and ran a hand over his face and cussed. “The fucking Warlock is Heinrich Besser, the local priest and author of the whole story!
Divij sighed, “Little wonder he hid the pilots body and ‘Satan’s flying machine’ because he probably thought they were a gift from his master!” Jericho turned on his back and stared up at the full moon and checked his mirror, “Divij, this don’t make sense, the priest buried Harrison believing he was a fellow follower of the master [the Dark Prince] but just left the other body still in the cockpit to rot? Then, we clearly have two planes that crashed here in 1561, what the hell happened to the other one? I mean Harrison’s plane that he parachuted from?” Divij shrugged his shoulders, “That Jericho, is a very good question.”
They pulled themselves up from the damp earth and headed for the Convent – again. Jericho placed a call to Operational Control and asked for a Team X visit and specified what needed to be done. After a few seconds the Duty Controller simply said, “They’re on their way.” Now somewhat relived the pair reached the stone wall of the Convent and Jericho called Alex and Jackie, telling them to bail out. He and Divij waited by the wall for the girls to join them and the group returned to the lighthouse.
Adolf Klopp stood in the doorway of his shed and rubbed his eyes, suddenly he wasn’t so inebriated: he knew he had just seen four people disappear in a soft flash of light. He sat on his makeshift bed and saw his hands were trembling and ran them over his face. He also knew that all his years of drunkenness and fornication had returned to haunt him. He had spent the evening in the company of demons or spirits from the underworld or hell.
He
collapsed on the bed and curled into a ball, sobbing. His soul was now in dire peril,
and he needed to square things with almighty God.
11. Thursday 9th June 1938, THE HOTEL ELCH, CASTLE DISTRICT, NUREMBURG.
Everyone was gathered about the small table in Jericho’s room, sipping coffee laced with brandy from Alex’s and Owen’s hipflasks. Well, everyone except Divij of course: he had straight black coffee, as usual. But everyone was on their mirrors reading everything that Human Records had on the 1561 incident. Owen suddenly sat up and cussed, “How the hell did we miss this part of the description: ‘as said above, fell from the sun down upon the earth as if they all burned' and they then wasted away on the earth with immense smoke’. It’s saying ‘they’, so more than one craft fell to earth. So there must be another plane, the bloody one Harrison parachuted from. What happened to it?”
Alex nodded, “He’s right, there has to be another craft and why didn’t our bent, devil worshipping father Heinrich report that in his diary?” Jericho sat back, “Because Harrison told him not too? Heinrich knew about the 2029 deception from his travels in time and came up with some plan to use that information to save Germany in World War Two. Having jets gave them an incredible advantage, we’ve already seen that by what’s happening in 1940 now. Why was Harrison so desperate to keep his aircraft hidden, when one had already gone down almost intact?”
Divij sipped his coffee and said nonchalantly, “People, we have missed a very important point here – well until now – we know the battle was just a fake, a deception for control purposes by the super elite. But every battle needs two sides. What if Harrison was flying an ‘alien’ craft, a flying saucer perhaps? What if, after parachuting out, he saw the damn thing crash almost intact? He would know that would change history and maybe not in the best interests of his master’s plans. After all, if humans knew about flying saucers in 1561, then when they developed flight, wouldn’t they base their machines on what they know does work: bloody flying saucers! How would they convince people in 2029 that aliens had arrived? Everyone would know that flying Saucers are from Earth. That’s why it was so important to hide the ‘alien’ craft, far more important than the jet plane in fact. Our time travelling friend would probably now know that we [Team 74] discovered the jet plane and had it destroyed. But now what does he do? Reveal the saucer to the Nazi’s to help them? But that would thwart his dark master’s plans in the future to control humanity completely. He’s in a bloody quandary all right, so what does he do? If we can work out his next move, then we can thwart him on every level. Just throwing it out there.”
There was silence for a second or two and Jericho grinned and slapped Divij’s arm, “Sergeant, you just earnt your pay!” Divij sipped his coffee and muttered – smiling – “What bloody pay?”
Everyone
laughed at that and even Alex and Owen had to admit that Divij had hit the nail
right on the head. Grudgingly, they had to also admit, their sergeant was a
bloody good temporal detective when he wanted.
“So, the hunt is still on, and this mission is far from over. We need to find and destroy the so called ‘alien’ machine and of course, Heinrich’s time portal device. We just need a cunning plan.” Jericho finished his super strength coffee and placed the cup down. That’s when there was a soft knock at the door and Jericho asked who it was: they were expecting no-one, and his finger hovered above the ‘emergency travel’ app on his mirror.
“It’s
the maid Maria, Herr Von Tripp, you have an urgent telephone call from berlin
sir.” Everyone looked at Jericho and he said quietly, “Go fucking now.” The team
disappeared in an instance as the door flew off its hinges, almost broken in
two and the room quickly filled with Gestapo officers, both in plain clothes
and uniform.
They were pulling the room apart when Colonel Von Hoff arrived and sauntered in. He removed his hat and had to smile, young Besser had predicted that they [the gestapo] would find the spies gone without any rational explanation as to how they did it. His brother had already reported the serious subsidence at the dig site: the dig was effectively over, and they both knew any jet powered machine there had been totally destroyed. Their enemies were clever bastards and wouldn’t have missed blowing that to pieces, then bringing down the catacombs to ensure every little piece of evidence was gone. The ‘silent’ explosives used really fascinated him and von Braun, now something like that would be a real find and immediately useful to the Nazi’s.
Jericho returned from the meeting with Angel Margret grim-faced, but with a strong resolve to put an end to the current interference in the timeline. With some reluctance the angel had approved his daring and dangerous plan. Normally temporal detectives were not allowed to operate at the exact time the line changed: it could make matters far worse. Normal practice was to arrive just before or just after and then revert the timeline. Being there at the time could have disastrous results, but sometimes that risk had to be taken and the angel had decided that this one of them.
They would return to Nuremburg in 1561 and witness the time slip for themselves, discover where the ‘alien’ craft crashed and destroy it. Then confront the time travelling priest and hopefully, seize his time portal device. It was tall order indeed, as Jericho explained his plan to the team. They would appear on the day before the strange incident, posing as travelling merchants, deal with the wayward priest and devil worshipper [they would have to deal with him immediately because he would know who they were!] Then find the crashed machine and destroy it. As a bonus, they would try and get Harrison back to his own time before he dies. That would at least save one soul. The other pilot, they simply couldn’t save.
After a good lunch, the team were visited by Supplies and provided with all the equipment they would need and so they jumped back to April 13th, 1561, and the city of Nuremburg.
12. Thursday 13th April 1561, ST. JOHN’S PARISH CHURCH, NUREMBURG.
The wagon halted by the crossroads and Divij relaxed, holding the reins in his lap. He turned to see Jericho – mounted on his big horse – checking his mirror under his riding cloak. Jackie stuck her head through the flap and asked how far to the church now. “About half hour at this rate, this bloody road is just a pile of potholes joined together.” Divij replied then gestured for her to disappear back inside, “Soldiers with a mounted officer, warn Alex.” He said softly and adjusted his fancy jacket, he was now a purveyor of silks and furs to the Imperial Roman Empire under Emperor Ferdinand I who actively promoted trade with Persia and Nuremburg at this time, was an Imperial Free State City. Jericho appeared next to him, patting his horse, “Look at the emblem on their tunics, they belong to the bishop of Nuremburg and I wonder where they are headed. There’s only villages and the church of St. John in front of us. Watch yourself and bloody smile.” Jericho turned his horse and waited for the mounted officer to draw to level. That’s when he saw the wagon following the soldiers: it contained a rough metal cage with restraints hanging inside. He and Divij exchanged a glance, they were from the dreaded and feared, Holy Inquisition. Divij muttered, “Some poor bastard is about to get a very unwelcome visit from God’s Christian’s.” Jericho said nothing but smiled.
The officer was a big man with a bushy dark beard and his tight tunic seemed to be losing the battle to hold his girth in. For some strange reason, Jericho felt sorry for his little horse! The officer stopped and stared at Divij, then stared at Jericho and gestured to Divij, “Is that a Moor?” He asked with real surprise in his voice and Jericho just smiled and shook his head, “Master Archeus is a Christian soul from the lands of Persia, here under Imperial consent to trade furs and silks within all lands benevolently ruled by our master the Emperor. He carries an Imperial warrant to sanction his task and we travel to Nuremburg as part of our tour. He speaks some Latin but little Germanic, so I am his tongue captain.” The officer scratched his beard, “You should see the bishop before you sell so much as a hat my friend. The holy bishop has the Imperial concession for sales of foreign goods within the city markets. It’s a small tax that benefits holy mother church. I’m sure a trader like yourself understands that.”
Jericho nodded, oh, he understood all right. The bishop was ‘skimming off the top’ with his own little ‘tax’ on goods sold in the city. All in the name of God, of course. Jericho gestured to the cage and chains, “Apprehending rouges that broke the emperor’s sweet peace, good sir?” The captain laughed, “Rogues? No my man, I’m about to face down an unholy criminal, a minion of the devil no less!” Jericho really looked impressed and pointed to the wagon, “Minion of the devil! Are we safe on this road captain?” The big man laughed again, “No-one is safe on these roads my friend, the woods are full of throat cutting bandits that would end your happy and prosperous life to steal your codpiece!”
Jericho didn’t smile and just nodded. The captain waved his men on and wished Jericho well, still chuckling and the little convoy passed by. The captain turned and shouted, “For some coin – for the bishops purse of course – you can accompany his soldiers into the city unmolested. But you may have to wait a while my friend, while we apprehend or kill the devil lover.” Jericho nodded again and waved the wagon on. They slipped in behind the soldiers and Jericho whispered to Divij, “Couldn’t be better, a bishops guard to enter the city with, then deal with our time traveling priest.” Alex poked her head through the curtain, and she wasn’t happy, “My bloody arse is hurting, didn’t they have bloody springs for these things?” Jericho just waved her back inside and smiled, Alex didn’t change, no matter what time period it was! He had to laugh when he heard Jackie telling her that rhymed, and she missed her vocation: she should have been a bloody poet!
The team didn’t laugh as the ‘minion of the devil’ was dragged from her cottage, screaming and pleading. The old woman was bundled into the cage and the chains were slapped on. Her big black cat, hissing and spitting, was thrown into a metal basket and placed on the wagon, while the bishop’s soldiers helped themselves to her meagre possessions. “If she’s a witch, I’m Einstein’s left nut.” Was all Jericho said and Divij nodded, “Sadly, few witches are ever acquitted, just an accusation was enough to send a woman to the stake.” Having stripped her cottage of anything of value, the captain waved the convoy on. “They drag an innocent old woman in and leave a real devil worshipping bastard to carry on.” Jericho said to Divij as they headed down the road and through the city’s Southern gateway. Crowds of Nuernberger’s gathered round the convoy and threw whatever was at hand at the screaming woman. She was pelted with fruit and stones by a cheering crowd who wouldn’t know real evil if it bit their arse.
Jericho gave the captain some coin for his ‘protection’ and for himself of course and stopped by the big tavern, just as the landlord threw a skinny old man into the street after pulling off his boots in payment for the beer he couldn’t pay for. The big man in a dirty apron, kicked the old man up the arse and waved him away, clutching the boots to his chest. He smiled at Jericho and bowed a little, “Looking for rooms my lord? We have the best in the city with real beds and our beer is like nectar of the God’s, all for some silver coin.” Jericho nodded and dismounted, really restraining from smiling as the dirty old man, stood yards away and pulled down his filthy hose to show his pockmarked arse to the landlord. “Another satisfied customer landlord?” he said with some sarcasm which flew straight over the big man’s head. “This way my lord, do you need food? We have the best in the city.”
“Of
course you do.” Jericho muttered which actually made Divij chuckle. The rooms
they paid for weren’t that bad, well, for 1561 they were quite good. Jackie ran
her mirror over her small bed and groaned, announcing it was full of lice and had
some really suspicious stains. “I’d sooner sleep in the bloody wagon.” She told
Alex, who actually prodded hers with a wooden stick taken from the dead
fireplace and agreed with her: she also swore blind that something squeaked, and
it wasn’t the bed springs: it didn’t have any. Divij stood in the doorway and
chuckled, “The joys of serving our beloved God I’m afraid. You can moan but I’ve
had to lock the door to my room, the bloody bed was trying to escape.” Both the
girls laughed at that, and Jericho rubbed his chin, maybe Divij was warming up
to the team, and that really made him happy.
They met up in Jericho’s room and he outlined the plan and Jackie was a major part of it. Father Heinrich had seen him [Jericho] and obviously Divij driving him about. Alex was out, he had seen her too [and a lot of Alex to be honest: she had been a stripper after all!] so it was down to Jackie since the priest had been served by Owen at the Nazi dinner party.
So, that afternoon, Jackie headed for St. John’s Church and sat in the almost empty pews and waited her turn for confession. Just a couple of benches ahead of her, two old women knelt in prayer, keeping a firm grip on their milking goats. She watched as a big man eased from the confessional box, unsmiling, and headed for the door. The priest shouted “Next!” and Jackie asked the old ladies if they were confessing and the older one just smiled [she had no teeth] and said no: at their ages they had nothing to confess!
Jackie slid into the small confessional box and announced it had been almost a year since her last confession, and the priest was interested in why such a large gap. Jackie sighed, stating that her troop of performers could only fit confessions in when they were not busy. The priest pressed his face against the little window and stared hard at Jackie and slowly smiled, “So you are a gypsy my child?” Jackie nodded and whispered yes. The priest asked if she accepted money for dancing and Jackie said that she did. He wiped his face and asked if she accepted money to please men and Jackie whispered yes again. It took a couple of minutes to negotiate a price, mainly because the priest insisted that the church receive some kind of discount, and told her to appear at the Parochial House’s back door after Evensong. She walked from the church grinning and the now horny priest watched her go, saying to himself that her little arse was worth the negotiated price alone. He threw the two old women out, followed by their goats, which had started to eat the pews and cushions used by the wealthy. He blamed God for landing him a parish with so many dirty, ignorant peasants. He walked back to the Parochial house, bible under his arm and felt better, after he kicked some begging children up their arse’s and told them to fuck off. He sat in his parlour and sipped some beer, eating a meat pie for his tea. He was already looking forward to his next trip to Berlin, in the summer of 1940, when Germany was enjoying the fruits of it’s victory in Europe. A visit to the Black Cat Club there would be the highlight.
Then he thought about the young gypsy girl and - apparently – part time whore. He counted the coins from afternoon Mass in the Collection Plate and grunted with satisfaction: he had enough for two times. He really should thank his generous parishioners at some point. He dozed in his chair until he heard a soft knock at the back door and eased from the chair and opened it, smiling. Jericho also smiled and used his mirror with impunity, knowing that the priest would be alone, awaiting his naughty assignation with the supposed gypsy girl. Divij followed him in operating his mirror, he grunted, “Nothing in the Parochial House or on him. He must have it stashed elsewhere.” Jericho cussed and searched the priest finding nothing but a few grubby coins and a filthy hankie. Alex and Jackie headed upstairs and within a few seconds shouted down for Jericho and Divij. They ran up the creaking carpet-less stairs and found them in an open doorway. There appeared to be three doors on this small, cramped hallway.
“Take a look in here, it’s fucking unbelievable!” Jackie said unsmiling. They all peered in. There were chains hanging from the thick wooden beamed ceiling and leg irons on the floor. The small bed was bare apart from chains fixed to the headboard and had several different sized whips and canes thrown on it. There was a small lectern by the heavily curtained window with a book open on it. Alex turned a couple of pages, “It’s about BDSM, bloody medieval bondage and beatings for the real perverted connoisseur and beautifully illustrated. In modern times it would be worth a small fortune!”
“No bloody time portal or device.” Murmured Jackie, lowering her mirror. Divij had to smile, “Ah, a true man of God.” Jericho jerked a thumb to the other doors, “Come on, let’s try them.” He and Divij found themselves in a bedroom which was surprisingly neat and tidy. But it contained no time portal or time device. The girls appeared and reported that the other bedroom was also neat and tidy and gain, nothing of interest. “Let’s try the bloody church, we have ten minutes left before time starts again.” They pushed past the still smiling perverted priest and headed to the church, walking quickly through the graveyard. Jackie suddenly called a halt and stood shaking her head, “Take a bloody look at this! It’s the grave of the journalist from 1987 that we found in 1938!” They gathered around and Jericho rubbed his face, “So, he was killed in 1987 but buried back in 1561, what’s the significance of that I wonder?”
“He was killed by a witches Coven, but we thought in 1987, so the Coven that Heinrich is warlock over must be responsible. Does that mean, all the witches jumped through time or is there a new Coven there, operating under Heinrich?” Alex reasoned and the other’s agreed. But it would have to wait – again – and they walked into the church and operated their mirrors: the disappointment continued. Jericho cussed, “We’ve searched the bloody Convent, the church, the bloody Parochial House and graveyard and nothing. Where the hell is the time portal?”
Divij folded his arms and slowly smiled. “I think the pissed gardener may have given us a clue people. Didn’t he mention a cave called the ‘Devil’s Mouth’ which was buried under a collapsing ridge? What did he said about the priest, that ‘Dear father Heinrich was beside himself and I think he actually wept.’ Now what upset the priest so much?” Jackie snapped her fingers, “Because he though his bloody time portal was closed forever!”
Jericho slapped Divij on the back, “Fucking well done! Let’s get there people! The collapse doesn’t happen – according to the gardeners story – until after the ‘Sky battle’ so it must still be open, and our mirrors will pick it up. The collapse clearly didn’t affect it functionality.” Alex and Jackie exchanged a glance, they were certainly seeing their sergeant in a new light now: he really was an excellent temporal detective.
13. Friday morning 14th April 1561, THE DARK WOODS, JUST OUTSIDE NUREMBURG.
Using their mirrors to illuminate their progress, they walked quietly trough the dark forest, with Jericho reading his mirror, “It was used in pre-historic times as a burial place for stone-age man and his family. So, it’s sacred and dark reputation as a place of death has been handed down the generations of people who lived in this area, almost certainly by word of mouth and tradition. When the time portal started to operate is anyone’s guess, but several souls have vanished over the centuries in these woods. Now – I think – we know bloody why.”
They crossed a shallow but fast flowing stream, and all stopped. They could hear wolves howling at the moon, well, calling to each other actually. Divij grunted, “So, there were still wolves in these forests at this time and probably brown bears too. Little wonder people avoided the place at night, well, except the bloody witches!” Jackie chuckled, “And daft temporal detectives!”
They pasted some huge ancient trees, and one really caught their attention: it was decorated with animal skulls and bones, little wooden pentangles and had a superb carving of an old man with a flowing beard. Alex gestured to it, “Looks like a half decent portrait of the BOSSES grandfather.” Jericho nodded, “It’s already over a thousand years old, but doesn’t survive the Nazi period. The bastard chopped it down for some reason.”
Passing the beautiful and grand old tree they came before the craggy little ridge and stood in awe of the carved head and mouth that covered the dark entrance. “Again, that carving is ancient and was a warning for people to keep away and not enter. The ancient tribe who lived in these woods must have kept well clear of it.” Jericho said and smiled broadly adding, “It’s a time portal linked to 1938. Can you imagine the reaction of people who stumbled through it and found themselves in Nazi Germany?”
“Not a pleasant thought.” Was all Divij said and the team now stood just below the carved face and found it was a sunny day in 1938 Nuremburg, but with high winds. “It’s May 2nd, 1938.” Jackie said quietly and Jericho took great pleasure closing the portal and the team jumped back to Nuremburg on the morning of 14th April 1561. The ‘Devil’s Mouth’ was now just a very old cave containing the remains of about forty stone-age men, women and children…oh, and a couple of ancient bears. The entrance to the hidden catacombs remained open, for now.
They gathered by the
stump of the grand old tree and Jericho checked his watch and when
the new rising sun started to turn a little red, he said very quietly, “Showtime.”
Large metallic flying ‘saucers’ appeared, zigzagging across the sky, rolling and turning, shooting bright white bubbles that dropped to earth, exploding with red flame, leaving – of course – no trace. They were, like the saucers themselves, superb holograms and two American F-35’s now appeared, and the team watched as they rolled and turned, firing side missiles which exploded with a great deal of noise and colours. A saucer came spiraling down, smoke pouring from it, and crashed on ‘Müllers Torheit’. Jericho checked his mirror and muttered, “Just a hologram.” That’s when the giant black arrow appeared, drifting across the face of the blood red sun and Jericho shouted, “I think that’s some kind of control craft for the holographic show! It’s bloody real and I can detect several humans on board….” He didn’t finish because what he saw made him fall silent. Suddenly there was a parachute with someone dangling from it who must have jumped from the strange craft. That’s when a F-35 suddenly dipped, and dropped several hundred feet, twisting and turning with smoke and flame pouring from the engine and the canopy blew off. But the ejector seat had malfunctioned, and the plane fell to earth, exploding near ‘Müllers Torheit’ with the pilot trapped in the cockpit.
But their attention was drawn to the dangling man, who suddenly jerked in mid-air and threw his arms about, as he came down in the dark forest. “They fucking shot him!” Jackie shouted, realizing what she had just seen. The team ran back into the woods and could see ahead, the big farmer, running to the man’s aid. “Come on, we need to get Harrison and drag him back to 2029. I think we were wrong about him, they shot him for a bloody reason.”
Fredrick Claus was surprised to be joined by the strangely dressed strangers but glad they were there, the man who fell from heaven was badly injured and the stranger’s seemed to know what they were doing. When the two women disappeared with the groaning man right before his eyes, he wasn’t actually surprised after what he had just witnessed, in the skies above his home. Jericho slapped his arm and told him to go home, which he did, meeting Maria and Theresa on the dirt road. Jericho and Divij made the crash site and found a large debris field, but a good portion of the cockpit and engine remained. They couldn’t get near this major piece of wreckage because of smoke and fuel still burning. The pilot was obviously dead with an arm missing and was actually alight, the flames licking and darting about the cockpit. They stared about, the sky had returned to normal, and the holograms had gone. Jericho contacted Operational Control and called for specialist Team X and specified it was a major clean up operation. That’s when everything went still, the Senior Time Controller had stopped all human time for the team to work undetected. Unlike the temporal detectives, such a controller could hold human time for as long as they wished. So the clean up could be done thoroughly with no trace of the modern jet fighter or it’s pilot being found.
Jericho and Divij made their way back to the village, passing Farmer Claus and the two milkmaids, all arm in arm and found the Parochial House. The priest was in the kitchen, sitting in his underwear about to eat porridge and drink beer. They both grinned as they took hold of him and carefully lifted him up the stairs with some effort and into his little private torture chamber. They chained him up naked and drew pentangles on the walls and floor. They were interrupted by old Joe from Supplies, standing in the doorway, grinning with a big canvas bag. “I’ve had some strange requests for equipment, but this beats the best. And of course, it had to come from bloody Team 74!”
Jericho just smiled, “Did you get a black rooster and the black candles?” Joe chuckled and unzipped the bag, releasing a very unhappy rooster to run about the room, craping everywhere. Jericho positioned the black candles and for a lovely touch, added a large wooden crucifix with Christ hanging upside down. He grunted with satisfaction and the trio left, closing the door carefully behind them. Divij checked his mirror, “The three anonymous letters from concerned parishioners of St. John’s Church in Nuremburg have just been placed in the bishops hands. Something he can read over breakfast!”
Jericho grinned, “I think he’ll be here in a couple of hours and Father Heinrich Besser will have a lot to explain to the Holy Inquisition.” Divij now smiled, “And I wish him the best of luck with that.”
After saying thanks and farewell to Joe, they jumped back to the lighthouse, leaving the clean-up in the capable hands of team X. There would nothing left of the jet plane or pilot for anyone to find now. They found Alex and Owen enjoying a brandy in the sitting room, awaiting Mr. Harris’s summons for dinner.
Alex explained that Harrison had died of his wounds, but Kath the Collector was on scene to collect his soul, this time. “He actually was a bloody hero, but no-one will know what he tried to do whilst the corrupt, devil worshipping elite still run the planet. He had tried to sabotage the projection unit in that strange plane, but was caught, probably betrayed for money, and had to jump. They shot him in mid-air, still not realizing they had generated a bloody time portal and their show was also live in 1561 and not just 2029!”
Divij nodded, “Because it became part of the current, human historical timeline, it was left to exist and become quite a mystery for modern scholars. They would never figure out it was a huge error by the elite, whilst trying to deceive the world that bloody aliens had invaded!” Owen just grunted, “What do you mean ‘trying’, they bloody succeeded. Most of the civilized world is still under their heel and the utterly gullible, stupid humans have no idea they are just slaves on a prison planet. Even when the more intelligent thinkers tell them what’s going on, they just ignore them as nutters and believe the crap their fed on TV, in newspapers and the internet. I sometimes despair for them.”
Jericho sipped his brandy and said quietly “Amen to that.” Mr. Harris appeared and announced dinner. The conversation would certainly be very lively tonight!
Fredrick Claus [Farmer 1561] married the young milkmaid Maria in 1562 and the pair apparently had seven children together, with three reaching adulthood. Fredrick remained on his small farm until he died in 1581. He was very popular and well respected locally and was known as the ‘Lächelnder Bauer’ or ‘smiling farmer’. His soul was collected and processed.
Father Heinrich Besser [the priest 1561.] His time traveling days came to an abrupt end with the closure of the ancient time portal. But he had bigger problems, the bishop arrived at his house and found him naked, chained up and surrounded by ‘black magic’ ritual equipment! The upside-down Christ really enraged the bishop, and the Inquisition was called. They tortured the young man for several days before he confessed to having sex with Satan and several of his minions in the form of goats! He wasn’t burnt at the stake – the church didn’t want too much publicity – so he was simply hung – very quietly - and his body buried in an unmarked grave in a local cemetery. His soul was collected and processed, receiving a human century in quarantine for some ritual murders, carried out when he was the local, witches Coven’s warlock.
Maria Helena Cobb [milkmaid 1561] married Fredrick Claus in 1562 and had four children. She died in 1574 from a ‘fever’ – probably pneumonia – and her soul was collected and processed.
Theresa Maria Cobb [milkmaid 1561] remained a spinster and lived with her sister and her husband [Fredrick & Maria Claus] dying in 1584, her soul was collected and processed. She had three children by Fredrick Claus who were credited to her sister Maria, to avoid scandal and make the children legitimate! [Very important at the time & place.] Little wonder Fredrick Claus was known as the ‘smiling farmer!’
Professor Peter Von Hoff [archaeologist 1938] survived the war and inherited his late brother’s title and estates. He became ‘a right wing’ Politian and ran for the German parliament on several occasions, but – thankfully – was never successful. Despite his age, he married in 1952 and his young wife gave him a son and daughter. His grandson – Wolfgang – is the current Count of Hoff [the 16th] and is local party chairman of a group of ‘neo-Nazi’s’. But his daughter – Ruth [!] – worked tirelessly for the ‘Green Party’ until her death in 1997 [road accident.] Peter died in 1994 and his soul was collected and processed. He did apply to be a Collector, but Angel Margret declined his application, and he re-joined the human lifecycle.
Colonel Paul Von Gott [Colonel, Wehrmacht 1938] was killed in the early days of the Battle of Stalingrad in 1942. He fell victim to a Russian sniper while taking a dump in a ruined Baker’s shop. His soul was collected and processed and unusually, received no quarantine for a professional soldier and pretend Nazi.
Colonel [also Count] Eric Von Hoff [aristocrat and SS colonel 1938] was assassinated by local Russian partisans in 1943. They threw a grenade into his car as he sat smoking with the door open! Several villagers were executed in retaliation for that. His soul was collected and processed, receiving fifty human years in quarantine for directing murders of civilians, mainly women and children. But the clever man, never actually killed anyone himself, so he actually got off quite lightly.
Ruth Maria Von Gott [archaeology student 1938] worked as an ancillary nurse at children’s hospital in Berlin during the war until the city fell in May 1945 to Russian forces. Like a huge number of German women, Ruth was brutally gang raped by celebrating Russian troops. She managed to escape the Russian sector in early 1946 heavily pregnant. She was taken to an American hospital where she gave birth to a boy, who she immediately gave up to an already, at full capacity, children’s home. Ruth managed to migrate to America in 1947 and taught Elementary school in Ohio where she married a ‘Coke-Cola’ salesman and had three children. She died in 1991 from breast cancer and her soul was collected and processed.
Franz Lieberman [archaeology student 1938] was conscripted in 1940 and was sent to the Russian front in 1942 and fought at Stalingrad, being captured when German forces surrendered in February 1943. The young man died in a Soviet Internment camp in 1946. He had never married and hid his homosexuality from both Nazi and Soviet authorities. His soul was collected and processed.
Paul Schmitt [soldier-servant 1938] was just twenty-three when he was killed during the Battle for France in June 1940. He had never married, and his soul was collected and processed.
Captain Jackson Harrison [US Navy pilot 2029] had been thrown back in time [as had the entire sky ‘battle’] to 1561 and almost died there of his injuries. According to US military Records the captain is MIA “missing in action”. The ‘battles’ intrusion back in time lasted only for about twenty human minutes. Harrison had tried to disrupt the ‘show’ and reveal to the world what was actually happening. But he was betrayed and had to jump from the strange plane that carried the projection equipment. He was shot as he floated down on his parachute. The world remains ignorant to the truth about the ‘Alien Invasion’. But Temporal Operational Intelligence believes that the sheer amount of power used to project the ‘Alien’ landings caused a rip in the time/space fabric. The so called ‘War of the Worlds’ remains official human history: for now. It joins a long list of ‘control’ measures used by the ’elite’ [Minions of the Dark Prince] to maintain their current domination of a very gullible humanity and planet Earth. The captain’s soul was collected – thanks to Jericho and team 74 – and processed. He currently remains an unacknowledged hero.
Adolf Klopp [Convent Gardener 1565] was gullible and stupid enough to report his encounter with the temporal detectives to mother superior at the Convent and she called for the Inquisition. Luckily, he wasn’t that daft to hang about and have a ‘chat’ with them! He finally ended up in Bremerhaven, working at the grand house of a very successful painter. He gave up his wild ways and married one of the housemaids, having six children and dying at the age of 71 [a real good age for the time.] His soul was collected and processed.
Captain Graham ‘Buzz’ Aldrin [US Navy pilot 2029] happily played his part in the ‘great deception’ until the engine stalled, and his cockpit alarms lit up like Blackpool Tower. He frantically attempted to eject – not realizing he would land in 1561 – but the safety system had also malfunctioned and he fell – panicking and screaming – with his plane to earth, being killed instantly. Since he was nearly four hundred years out of his ordained time period, there was no collector, and his soul was lost to the darkness of real death. Karma can be a real bitch…..
Professor Basil ‘Baz’ Klute [Scotland 1940] obviously now never encountered Jericho and Team 74 with the timeline being restored. But he would continue his role as a ’human agent’ for old Doc Silas until his unexpected death in 1962. He crashed his new motorcycle on a quiet country road in Essex and died of his injuries. His soul was collected and processed. He is now a Temporal Detective trainee on Team 81 and he appears to be very good at it!
[1] The power generated to create the ‘Alien Invasion’ battle also opened time portals in other periods of human history, including over ancient Sumeria in about 2700BC where it became part of the classic tale: ‘The Epic of Gilgamesh’. Then again, it appeared in the ancient Indian Hindu mythical wars texts, which described flying machines [Vimana] and battles in the sky. It must have appeared to various Bible scholars at some point in ancient history. The story is recounted in Genesis, Exodus, II Kings, Ezekiel and throughout the new testament.
[2] The other famous appearance was over Los Angeles in February 1942, when it was believed to be an attempt by the Japanese to raid the city. Of course, no one at the time realised it was a holographic projection, nor apparently later, of a supposed ‘alien’ invasion. Thus, mass breeches of the timeline by the projection, were actually recorded by humanity and they didn’t even know! It appears that the creators of the ‘great deception’ unknowingly changed fledgling human history, which in turn became part of accepted human mythology, no-one realizing that the ancient texts were describing a complex and technology advanced deception by a desperate elite to maintain control of their ‘slaves’.
[3] The ‘great deception’ joined a list of attempts by the minions of the Dark Prince to maintain his growing control over the souls of humanity. With the current BOSS [God] maintaining his ‘hands off’ policy towards his grandfather’s creation, the Dark Prince’s plans to return human back to their ‘animal’ state appears unstoppable. His ambition of stripping humans of their divine gift of ‘freewill’ appears to be nearing completion and sadly, the vast bulk of humanity will do nothing because they simply do not believe he [the prince] exists! In fact many humans do not even believe that the ‘Dark Elite’ and their plans even exist in reality. But they will find that out to their cost, if they continue to do nothing, that this darkness is real and dangerous.
[4] Names have been changed to protect the innocent!
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