THE VALLEY ITSELF like the many others that had been furrowed in this part of the country had over the centuries served as a passageway through the Alps leading to the east and southeast of Europe, and even, in the case of medieval pilgrims and crusaders, to the Holy Land. Amidst lofty peaks, deep within the valley, Bar Computer Industries lay snugly nestled this particular morning in a deep blanket of snow. Ten miles away in the city of Saltzbug, the capital of Salzburg Bundesland in north-central Austria, there had been no falls of snow in the last few days whilst here in the valley it had been falling continuously. The forests of spruce, larch, and beech, below the tree line on the mountain slopes, were grateful, however, that the blizzard had finally relented for they were tired of bowing under the weight of their white canopies. Now, the sun had broken through and the white wet carpet glistened as it began to melt, be it ever so slowly.
Oscar Bar looked out of his office window at the curve of the valley set among some of the most beautiful mountain scenery in the world, but his mind was elsewhere. The events that had taken place at the Villa dEste in Tivoli in the last forty-eight hours were his prime concern. He knew, of course, that Captain Lewis was still alive, and was the one responsible for the mayhem although his SAS contact had not been able to obtain any other information yet. Twenty-two employees of Bar Security Services in Italy had been killed. Only the servants and clerics that resided in the villa were spared, they having beat a hasty departure when the firing began.
By all accounts, it had been a massacre of even larger proportions than the abbey attack in Ireland last year, and the same man was once again involved. How could that be, he wondered. His men had been highly trained and were armed with the latest weapons, yet one man had slaughtered them. Of course, as far as the world was concerned it had been an attack by a group of Middle East terrorists, possibly Palestinian. They were always good scapegoats for attacks of this order. The Italian police would have to be persuaded but this should not present a problem. After all the organization had people in high places in Italy as it did elsewhere in the world. No, the main concern at this time was the elimination of Captain Lewis, Captain Wright, and Monsignor Cronin before they could expose Cardinal Tsana and the rest of the organization.
The muffled roar of an avalanche in the distance distracted Oscar Bar but the noise lasted only a few seconds. The German designers of the underground complex he had erected for his grand design had assured him that avalanches would pose no danger.
“And the Administration Building that is above ground?”
“Too far away from the main slopes, Herr Director! Anyway, avalanches do not go up hill.”
The glint of something on the far slope caught his eye and he made out the tiny figure of a skier farther down the valley. What some people will do for enjoyment, he mused as he turned away from the window and walked over to the executive leather chair set behind a large highly polished cedar desk. The desk itself was bare except for a small desk calendar and his Filofax which was placed to one side. On the side return the monitor of his laptop computer was bursting with stars indicating that his screen saver was in operation. Placing his hand on the mouse, the screen once more displayed the spreadsheet he had been working on. The financial data that he had previously entered beckoned, but his mind kept wandering back to Captain Lewis.
Not far away Captain Anthony Wright had worries of his own as he stood training his binoculars on the factory complex below. He shifted his gaze to the man approaching on skis and stepped out from behind the spruce tree waving his arm to attract the skier's attention.
“There you are!” Major John Carter exclaimed as he puffed up the last few feet. “God, I'm getting out of condition!”
Both men were dressed alike in close-fitting, heavy boots of leather held firmly by bindings, with ski pants and tops to protect them from the cold, over which they wore white camouflage suits.
“Too much time behind a desk!” Tony replied as he turned off his direction beacon and shook the other man's hand. “I'm surprised the Colonel sent you!”
The Major removed his skis and stood them upright in the snow next to Tony's as he replied.
“When you said that you had information that couldn't be transmitted in case of interception, the Colonel thought he'd better send me just to be on the safe side!”
Tony nodded his agreement. Who better than the Colonel's close friend and confidant, he thought. He then raised his binoculars back to his eyes and directed his attention once more on the works below.
“And what is this vital information that you have?”
“It's to do with Cardinal Tsana and a man named Oscar Bar. That's his factory below!”
“What about them?”
“Lechaim didn't give me all the details but it seems that this Oscar Bar has some sort of plan to cause chaos to the computer systems of the world sometime in the future and the Cardinal is somehow tied in!”
“It all seems rather fantastic! How did Lechaim learn of this!”
“He wouldn't say!” Tony said as he lowered his binoculars. “One thing is for certain though! Cardinal Tsana is bad news! He tried to kill Lechaim at the Villa. What’s more, those armed security guards surrounding the Villa suggest that the Cardinal is linked to something pretty big!”
“Twenty-two less security men now!” the Major said. “Lechaim's body count is going up!”
“Hmm, quite!” Tony muttered as he raised his glasses again.”
“Are you sure it's quite safe around here? I heard an avalanche on the way up.”
“No! It’s bloody dangerous but we’ve little choice, I’m afraid!” Tony responded with a smile on his face. Danger always gave him that extra edge.
“You should have been here when the blizzard was blowing!”
The conditions only reinforced Tony’s hatred of the cold and instilled in him a constant longing for warmer climates.
“And where is Lechaim now?” the Major asked
“Lechaim is about to pay Herr Bar a visit!”
“Has he taken leave of his senses?”
“Probably!” Tony replied and he was only half joking. Certainly, the man that had emerged from the Villa forty-eight hours before was not the same Lechaim Lewis that he had known all these years. Whilst nothing had changed in his physical appearance, he did not act or react as Lechaim used to, and his friend of old would never have shown the same callous disrespect for the dead. It seemed so unnecessary and out of character. The old Lechaim would certainly have told him everything that had taken place at the villa. Could it be that his friend was suffering some form of breakdown, trauma, or stress perhaps? Yet, it seemed so improbable, knowing Lechaim as he did.
“What has he done with Monsignor Cronin?”
“Beats me! Refuses to say!”
Major Carter considered Tony's words for a moment.
“There he is!” Tony exclaimed, “Here! see for yourself!”
The Major took the glasses and watched as a taxi made its way along the road below. Sure enough, when it stopped before the gates of the factory and a man got out, the Major could see that it was Lechaim.
“It’s Lechaim all right!” Major Carter said as he handed the glasses back.
Tony put the glasses to his eyes and watched as Lechaim walked towards the main gates while the taxi made its way painfully back along the recently ploughed road.
“Crazy!” the major said.
“There might be some logic in what he's doing! If this man, Oscar Bar, has nothing to fear then he will allow Lechaim to leave freely. If he has got something to hide, then Lechaim will know about it soon enough!”
“And whose idea was that!”
Tony grinned. “Who do you think!”
Below, the security guard at the gate, one of Oscar Bar's elite, stared in amazement at the tall man walking towards him, not because of his appearance, but because of the way he was inappropriately dressed for the conditions. Although it was freezing the man wore only a pair of beige slacks, a pair of brown leather shoes, and a blue open-neck shirt. What a dumbkauf, he thought, as he greeted the stranger, noting the package that the man carried.
“What can I do for you, Sir!” the young guard said.
In German the man said, “I would like to see Herr Oscar Bar please!”
“Do you have an appointment, Sir?” the guard replied in German.
“No, but I think he'll see me. Just tell him the Captain’s here, there’s a good fellow”
The man looked familiar but he wasn't sure. He was German, of course. His German was too good to be otherwise.
“If you wait one moment, sir, I'll see whether Herr Bar will see you! Oh! And by the way, sir, that package will have to go through our surveillance system!”
“Expecting trouble?” the tall man asked and then added, as he saw the guard stiffen, “Don't worry, nothing will show up, I can assure you!”
The guard took the package off Lechaim and went into his box where he rang Oscar Bar's secretary's who put him through.
Oscar Barr was pondering the spreadsheet on his computer when his internal phone rang.
“Yes!”
“Captain Who?”
The guard on the other end paused for a moment and then poked his head out of his box and said, “Mr Barr wants to know your name please!”
“Oh! Captain Lewis will do!”
When the guard spoke down the phone again, he heard Oscar Barr reply, “Wait a moment!”
Oscar Bar placed his hand over the mouthpiece - he needed time to think. He knew, of course, that Captain Lewis was still alive. He also knew about the destruction at the Villa, hence Cardinal Tsana’s reason for returning home so quickly. His SAS contact had fully briefed him about such by telephone the night before. What was the Captain doing here now? How did the Captain know of the connection between him and the Cardinal? Had he followed the Cardinal here? Was that it? If so, what did he want? These and other questions were racing around in his head. He knew there was only one way to find out so he spoke into the mouthpiece again.
“Have the Captain shown to my office, would you please!”
He then rang internal security. “I want a surveillance team with armed men in place immediately!”
Some ten minutes later Oscar Bar used his internal phone again.
“Please ask Captain Lewis to come in, Helga!”
He recognized the man that entered at once. It was indeed the legendary Captain Lewis, even more impressive in the flesh. His heart was thumping as he walked forward with his hand outstretched to greet the man.
“Oscar Bar!”
“I know who you are!” the other man replied coldly. Ignoring Oscar Barr’s outstretched hand, his visitor walked over to the window and promptly sat down in a chair situated there, the package on his lap.
Extraordinary, Oscar Bar thought. What impertinence, but before he could object the man in the chair spoke again, “The scenery is beautiful, is it not, Herr Bar!”
These English were indeed a peculiar lot, Oscar Bar decided and then he realized with a shock that the man was speaking in fluent German. But how could that be? Captain Lewis was not bilingual as far as he was aware. Oscar Bar decided to ignore the other man's rudeness and be as cordial as he could.
“Your German is remarkably good!”
“I speak all languages, Herr Bar!”
Ridiculous man, Oscar Bar thought, and what arrogance. He, Oscar Bar, would show this fool what being multilingual meant for he could speak some eight languages. He said in French, “And what is it you want of me?”
The man in perfect French replied, Your death of course!” Had he heard right, Oscar Bar wondered.
In Cantonese, he asked, “Why!”
In perfect Cantonese, the man said, “Like your father, you are evil and must be stopped, but more than that, you have corrupted the house of the Lord!”
This man whom he had read so much about was a lunatic, but then again how did he know about his father? Only three people in the world knew that he was the son of Adolf Hitler.
In Russian, Oscar Bar asked, “And what do you know about my father?”
The man in the chair pointed out the window at the distant peaks and replied in perfect Russian, “Over there in Berchtesgaden, on the Obersalzberg, 1,640 feet above the town your father had a chalet along with Hermann Goring, Martin Bormann, and a few other Nazi leaders!”
“Ridiculous!”
Oscar Bar was no longer offended or amused, he was now afraid. Tugging at the silk-red handkerchief in his breast pocket, he gave the signal and glanced at one of the security cameras in the room as he did so. The three men in the next room that had been observing them both on their screens had been waiting for just such a signal, and they burst into the office with their guns at the ready.
“My! My! Herr Bar. Such hospitality!” his visitor said.
Oscar Bar could afford to relax now that he had protection. The Captain knew who he was so he would never leave here alive but who else knew? He would have to find out if he could. Meanwhile, he would have to amuse this madman a little further in order to glean as much information as he could.
“I'm afraid, Captain, you seem to have me confused with someone else!”
“I think not! You're Oscar Bar and you intend to create a new world order by destroying the old with your 'Paris Virus' and your 'Apollo 2000' Computer! Rather good, I thought, that pointed reference to Greek mythology.”
The sweat broke out on Oscar Bar forehead and he could feel the dampness beneath his armpits!”
“But, but how do you know all this?”
“It is my business to know these things!”
“But you're just a Captain in the British army, what would you know!”
“I'm no Captain, Herr Bar!” and the man gave a laugh that made Oscar Bar's blood run cold. “Ah, but you have me confused with Captain Lewis, is that it?”
For one of the very few times in his life, Oscar Bar was at a loss for words and could only stare at the man that smiled at him from his chair by the window.
The man kept smiling as he then said, “I see that we do not have the pleasure of Cardinal Tsana's company! Another day perhaps!”
Oscar Bar was now envying the Cardinal who had been visiting the previous day and would be arriving back in Rome at just about this time.
“Oh! but I was almost forgetting! Doctor Nieuwhof sends his regrets! He was required elsewhere and you won’t be seeing him again! “
“Doctor Nieuwhof!” Oscar Bar could only echo.
“But he's here in the flesh so to speak! Here’s a little token of his appreciation!” With that, the man got up and walked across to Oscar Bar's desk and placed the package there. Then he returned to his chair by the window.
“What's that?”
“Why, a small token of the Doctor's esteem!”
“Has it been through a metal detector?” Oscar asked turning to one of the security guards in the room.
“Yes, Herr Bar!” he replied.
“Open it then!”
The guard wished he had kept his mouth shut as he took out his Swiss army knife and cut the tape around the package. The brown paper fell away to reveal a white cardboard box underneath. Raising the lid slowly, he lifted the clear white plastic bag out and immediately dropped it, springing back in alarm.
Meanwhile, on the slope above the two men waited patiently. Lechaim had refused to wear a wire so they had no way of knowing what was going on below.
“When do you expect him to come out!” the Major asked although he knew the question was a little pointless.
“Who knows!” Tony replied.
The Major then said without thinking, “All this fuss over a financial report!”
Tony lowered his glasses and stood staring at Major Carter. “I'm sorry, what was that?”
“The Monsignor’s financial report! Didn’t Lechaim mention it to you?”
Tony's hand closed over the butt of his pistol.
“Don't try it, Tony! I'm not as good as you with this but I'm pretty good all the same.”
“I see you still prefer the old Browning High Power!” Tony said trying not to sound surprised as he stared down the barrel of the Major's gun.
“It's served me well enough in the past. Saw little reason to change now!”
Lechaim had mentioned the Monsignor’s financial report to Tony but no one else on their side knew about it yet.
“I never told headquarters about the financial report. I gather you're working for the other side?”
“Something like that! Silly slip of mine, that! I must be getting old!”
“Money?”
“Money!” the major confirmed. “My wife has expensive taste!”
Tony had only met the major's wife the one time and that was at their wedding. He had not liked her then and he had even more reason to dislike her now.
“Are you going to kill me!”
“Something like that!”
“I see!” Tony replied looking for a way out but he knew there was none. The major was as equally adept as he and was aware of all the tricks. So it has come to this, at last, Tony thought as he stared at the Major - that lonely death in a foreign field.
Below in the valley, a drama was also being played out in Oscar Bar's office.
Through the plastic bag lying on the floor the men could see what looked like the inner tube of a large ball marinated in blood and what looked like....
Oscar Bar's eyes widened as he exclaimed fearfully. “What is it?”
“The good doctor had been abusing his liver for years so I decided to take it back!” Then his countenance changed and the man sitting in the chair no longer smiled. “I threw in John Devlin's eyes and heart for good measure. If thy eye offend thee, pluck it out!”
Oscar Bar paled as he gaped in horror mingled with fascination at the doctor's liver finally freed from its years of maltreatment, the doctor's heart and the pair of abandoned eyeballs that John Devlin had once misused.
None of them could quite believe what was happening - it was inhuman, barbaric, pitiless. The three security men in the room were now as apprehensive as Oscar Bar and their hands tightened around their weapons. Madmen, they knew, were unpredictable and someone could be hurt - it could be one of them.
The man spoke again. “I thought you would like these momentoes, so to speak!”
“Who are you?” Oscar Bar asked in a voice that he could barely control.
“I am death!” the man laughed.
Oscar Bar laughed back in a show of bravado, exclaiming “You're quite mad, Captain!”
The man in the chair chuckled, “Do you really think so?”
The sound of a gunshot echoing along the valley startled them and they forgot the man in the chair for a moment as they turned to look out the large glass windows of Oscar Bar’s office to the snow-covered slopes beyond.
Tony had been executed and he was about to be buried in a foreign field, not by mourners but by mother nature herself.
“You!” Oscar Bar ordered one of them. “Go and find out who fired that shot?”
Before the man could respond, however, they all heard it - faint at first like rolling thunder in the distance.
“What's that?” one of the security men asked.
“It's an avalanche!” Oscar Bar replied. He had heard many in the valley and he was not concerned.
“If ye shall say unto the mountain, be thou removed and be thou cast down, it shall be done if your faith be strong enough,” the man in the chair rasped and they turned to look at him. He stood up and they all drew back in fear. Walking to the center of the room, the man turned and pointed to the panoramic view of the countryside that the windows afforded. In a voice without emotion, he declared, “So it is written, so it shall be!” They turned to look out once more and saw what he was pointing to - a tidal wave of snow descending down the valley towards them.
The noise of the belching Browning High Power pistol as Major Carter shot Tony Wright between the eyes, blowing the back of his head out, had been enough to put the mass in motion. The great weight of snow that had fallen in the past days began to gain momentum as it picked up rocks and earth, grinding everything as it went. The avalanche was all-consuming as it rolled down the mountainside, ripping out trees, crushing and burying everything in its path including the body of Tony Wright. It devoured Major Carter merely as an afterthought.
His laughter filled their ears now and they turned as one to confront him. His mouth was stretched wide as he stood there taunting them. At that moment, it seemed to the men in the room that he was death personified The roaring mingled with the noise of cracking glass and splintered wood was pounding in their ears but they could not hear it. Even while death was enfolding them all, they poured bullets into their nemesis until the snow overwhelmed them, and he that was death carried them away.
The young guard on the gate had been the first to witness the mountain of snow hurling across the valley and he was the first in the complex to die. The white death tore over the electrified fences and descended on the outbuildings and administrative offices. Chewing and spitting out everything in its way, it swept aside the brick and concrete structures, exploding the sea of glass before it cantered on without pausing until finally spent, it came to rest. Beneath its thick shroud of white, the underground laboratories and workshops, with their hundreds of workers specializing in everything to do with the manufacture of computer-based technology, lay buried, entombed without hope.
Days later a rescue worker peering through a sheet of ice beneath his feet came across the body of Oscar Bar which had miraculously escaped being crushed. The dead fish eyes peering back through the ice window seemed to be in denial. Indelibly printed in the dead brain cells of that frozen corpse were the last thoughts Oscar Bar's brain ever registered.
“Too far away from the main slopes, Herr Director! Anyway, avalanches do not go uphill.”
As the rescue worker went to get the equipment to remove the iceman, an expert in his field, standing close by, was offering an opinion to his colleague.
“I believe it was a combination of a wet and dry avalanche!”
“Impossible!” his colleague answered.
They both knew, of course, the difference between the two. Their lecture at the University they had attended years before when they were students together had been succinct enough.
“The wet snow avalanche is perhaps the most dangerous because of its great weight, heavy texture, and tendency to solidify as soon as it stops moving. The dry type, however, is also dangerous because its entraining of great amounts of air makes it act like a fluid; this kind of avalanche may flow up the opposite side of a narrow valley.”
Oscar Bar's German designers knew of this when they designed the complex for Oscar Barr. However, they were certain that German knows how and ingenuity could overcome such problems. Such is the folly of humankind.