Operation: Blackheart

Operation: Blackheart

A Novel by Jonathan Brett

Copyright 2012 Jonathan Brett

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Dedications

To my Joy, who is always supportive of my writing – even when it scares her.

And to my brother, who pointed out a bunch of the historical inaccuracies, and then told me to ignore the ones that serve the story.

And to you, Dear Reader, for taking a chance on an unknown author.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Part 1: Getting There

Part 2: Ghost Town

Part 3: Blackheart

Epilogue

Prologue: The Priest

Hands that can kill are also hands that can create life.

That thought occurred to Captain Daniel Ryder as he made sure he had gotten the mud out from under his nails. He had just helped his father in the fields, making sure the harvest in the fall would be a plentiful one, and now he had a date with a girl he didn’t deserve.

This was the last day before he shipped out, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask Genevieve Madison to marry him.

He was going to be in uniform. As much as he hated the idea of parading around town as the heroic GI who was going to fight Hitler for Uncle Sam, he also looked good in uniform. He was the all-American boy. His hair was brown, eyes were a bright sparkling blue, and he had a dimple in his chin. He hated that dimple.

He hadn’t been home long. His mother said it wasn’t long enough, but he could only do what the Army told him to do. After some fighting in Europe in ’42, he had been lucky, gaining the opportunity to train new troops for the war. A promotion also meant more responsibility, and Ryder liked it. But he really wanted to get back to farming.

And then he was ordered to prepare for something big. Very big. He had a chance to go home and he took it. His whole purpose was to say goodbye to his parents, the fields, and, finally, Genevieve.

He made sure his tie was straight and put on his cap. He stared at himself in the mirror.

You look good, his mother said, peeking in at him.

No, Ryder said. My jaw’s too square. My jacket doesn’t fit right in the shoulders. Besides, I don’t want to look good. I want to break up with her.

His mother made a tisking sound. Why would you want to do that?

I’ll be gone a long time, Mom, Ryder said. He turned and took his mother’s hand. Lucky I got to come home this time, yeah? Once I’m gone, I’m gone, and I don’t want to leave someone behind.

You’ll leave me behind, she said. All I have is a star in the window and a prayer in my heart.

You’re my mom, Ryder said. He smiled. You don’t have a choice. She does. I’m letting her go.

His mother shook her head. Smart girl like that. All that reading you did before you left was good for you. Good for this. She tapped his head. Do you think you would have made captain without it?

Ryder shrugged. What is, is.

Oh, so practical, his mother said. She kissed his cheek. Get going before you’re late. Don’t break her heart right away, okay?

I’ll do my best, Ryder said.

That phrase was still on his mind when he and Genny stepped away from the ice cream stand. It wasn’t really warm enough for ice cream yet, but she insisted. Somehow, people had decided to put on a little fair here, and Genny had dragged him to it.

Ryder always felt awkward in town. The buildings in the town square were so close together. The streets were so orderly. He felt like he could breathe on the farm, but here he felt like he was going to get run over by a car at any minute.

They were in a square in the middle of Ravenhill. The main road was diverted around the square, and the police had blocked it off. Statues of the founders of the town occupied the four corners of the square. People were wandering in and out, mostly unaware of Ryder or each other. Each person was caught up in his or her own little world. However, some of them looked at him appreciatively, like he was doing something truly heroic. Epic, as Genny would say.

What bothered him most were the little boys. They’d snap off a crisp salute and he’d humor them by saluting back. He hated what he saw in their eyes, the hope that the war would go on long enough for them to be in that uniform. He represented something that they wanted to become. And, glancing to his right and seeing Genny there in that dress told Ryder that they probably envied him that as well.

He did not want to be envied, neither for the uniform nor the girl. He didn’t deserve either.

Did you at least look at the book I sent you? Genny asked. She cocked her head to the side and gave him a look that would be breathtaking if he wasn’t trying to figure out how to break up with her. Her brown hair fell to her shoulders and her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Her face was such a perfect shape that she always looked serious and thoughtful, but suddenly was stunning when she smiled.

He didn’t deserve her.

Dan, Genny said, I asked you a question.

Ryder swallowed the ice cream he had been savoring on his tongue. Huh? What?

Did you even look at the book I sent you?

What? That? Yeah, I did, Ryder said. His mind raced to figure out what book she had sent him.

Uh-huh, Genny said. "The Works of John Donne. You looked at it?"

Sure, Ryder said. Hope you didn’t expect me to memorize them.

Truth is, Ryder had no idea who John Donne was. He remembered seeing the small, blue book that Genny had sent him and then…he didn’t know what happened to it! He couldn’t remember if he gave it away or lost it somewhere.

I didn’t, Genny said. I just thought you’d read a couple.

I’ve been pretty busy, you know, Ryder said. A lot going on. There’s kind of a war on, yeah?

Yeah, I know, Genny said. She laughed a little and wiped some ice cream off her cheek. But I thought you’d have a quiet moment where you could read a little bit. Try some of his holy sonnets.

Holy what?

Sonnets! Like Shakespeare! Genny said. She laughed and looped her arm through his. She put her head on his shoulder and said, I don’t know how you can make not talking about something so much fun, but you do.

I’m special that way, he said.

Ryder’s eyes danced around the crowd: children, a few very old adults. He saw some young men who eyed him cautiously. They were probably about to leave themselves, but weren’t in uniform. Ryder didn’t care. He wore this to remind Genny of where he was going. He felt like it would give what he said more weight. What was the word she used? Context. It would give his speech context.

Something was also wrong. Ryder felt it, like a sixth sense. His training wasn’t dampened even by his nervousness or the beauty of the woman on his arm. He knew he was being watched.

Did you even read one? Genny asked.

Huh? Ryder asked. He stopped and looked at her. He knew he had a totally puzzled look on his face.

Genny’s smile faded. A poem? Are you all right, Daniel?

Ryder looked around. The people all looked okay. They seemed to be trying to have a good time. Most of them were uninterested in Genny or Ryder. Still, he felt like…

There. Across the plaza was an old man. He was staring right at Ryder.

Dan? Genny asked.

Ryder forced a smile. Everything’s fine. Just have a lot on my mind.

Genny finished her ice cream and steered him over the cobblestones to a bench beside a tree.

Okay, she said as they sat down. Spit it out. What’s going on?

Ryder shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She had picked the only bench that didn’t give him a good view of the old man or the crowd. He angled around, trying not to have his back to the crowd, but it didn’t work. He didn’t want to alarm her, either.

What’s going on, Dan? Genny asked.

Going to be gone for a long time, Ryder said. He forced himself to meet her eyes.

I know that, Genny said. You’ve been gone a long time already.

And you’re, I don’t know, Ryder looked at the ground. She took his hands and he really wished she wouldn’t do that. You’re so smart. Going to college. I can’t help thinking that…

You! said a voice, suddenly very close to them.

Ryder was on his feet in a flash. He put himself between Genny and the speaker. He was unarmed, but he had some hand-to-hand training, so he planted his feet and prepared for the worst.

The old man was right there. His eyes were crackling with insane energy. His white hair was straggly. He stood right across from Ryder like a statue, staring, only a foot away. Ryder could smell the alcohol on the man’s breath.

He was a priest. Ryder could see the Roman collar under the tattered jacket.

You’re the one, the priest said. He rolled the r sound strangely. It was an accent Ryder hadn’t heard before.

Listen, Mister, I don’t know…

There is death over there, the priest said, pointing vaguely to the east. Death that stalks many. Stalks you.

That’s war, yeah? Now, sir, I’d like you to leave, Ryder said.

She will have three children, two boys, the man pointed a long, skinny finger at Genny. Ryder heard her gasp, but he didn’t look back. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the priest.

A boy will break her heart. Another will give her strength, the priest said. He then blinked and shook his head. Maybe she have two girls. Maybe the boys not hers. I don’t know.

Maybe you should leave, Ryder suggested. Now.

Genny grabbed the back of his jacket. She pulled on it. Let’s go, Dan. I don’t want…

Ryder took his eyes off the man for a second, that’s all. And, suddenly, the man grabbed Ryder’s left arm and pulled him forward so they were nose-to-nose.

"Moria, valor, monstrum!" the priest hissed. His hand was a vice on Ryder’s arm. His eyes blazed with insane energy. They seemed to pop out from under the bushy eyebrows.

That was enough. Ryder made a quick chop to the man’s arm to break his hold and then stepped back to deliver an incapacitating punch when he saw that the man wasn’t there anymore.

Ryder blinked and looked to his right. The man was standing there, contemplating a strange cross hanging from a chain. He acted like Ryder hadn’t just hit his arm.

Maybe she die old, the man said. I can no tell. You, he looked at Ryder through the crooked cross, you see terrible things. Water fill your mouth. Smoke fill your nose. You learn measure of man, and value of friend. You see that a man is what you are, and what you…desperately wish to be! No monster. No you.

The man then blinked. His eyes had been clearer when he was talking to Ryder than they were now. "Maybe no. Maybe you monster. Can no tell."

The priest snatched Ryder’s hand out of the air as Ryder moved to hit him. In his surprise, Ryder opened his palm and felt something cold get pressed there. The edges were sharp, but didn’t cut him.

I started, you finish, the priest said. This…protect you.

The priest let Ryder go and started to back into the crowd. Finally, almost supernaturally, Ryder heard the man’s voice about the din of the crowd.

"Moria, valor, monstrum."

Part 1: Getting There

(A letter by Captain Daniel Ryder to Genevieve Madison after D-Day, June 1944)

Dear Genny,

I don’t know how to describe this to you. I jumped out of an airplane – you probably seen them in newspapers or something. I couldn’t see much but the chutes around me. We were all scared. I know I was. Someone spit up behind me before we jumped, but it didn’t get on me. I remember checking my pack and my weapon a couple of times. I really thought I was going to die. It was so dark outside.

The light went green. I was in the middle of the group when we tried to get out of the plane. We were jumping ahead of the invasion, see. We had an objective just before what they’re calling D-Day. I can’t really say what it was, but there were only a couple of us to do it. We’re Pathfinders. It’s what we do.

I was out of the plane and then, I don’t know. Somehow, I missed the landing point and ended up in this pond or lake or something. All I know was that instead of getting caught up in trees like some other men, I ended up underwater, frantically trying to get my parachute off me.

Drowning was hell. I took a deep breath and all I sucked in was water. I think I screamed. I know I fought the water. I thought I was going to die, and maybe I did.

I say I did, Genny, not to scare you, but to help you see what happened next. Remember that cross that crazy priest gave me back home? I still have it. I remember thinking about heaven, and wishing I had asked you to marry me, not what I said. I grabbed the cross, then everything went black.

I think I saw the Devil. I’m still scared of it. Once the world went black, I was in some house somewhere. Don’t know where, so don’t ask. And then I turned around and the Devil was there. Big as life! He looked at me and roared. All I could think was I’m going to die, but then I was back on the ground, sucking in air. Someone – Scott Moore, you’ll like him – pulled me to shore. I remember coughing up water for what felt like forever. No Devil, not even a lot of bodies.

When I got to my feet, Scott, he said that we had to get to our objective. I don’t know how he kept his head like that. I won’t tell you about that, Genny. I can’t. I killed men that day. Lots of them. It wasn’t pretty. But I survived. I guess the boys who took the beach got the worst of it, though. I suppose I’m lucky that my objective was in the dark behind enemy lines – as lucky as that can be.

That’s over, and I don’t think anything can scare me anymore. Except the nightmares.

Now, I have a break. I can write to you. Ben Halloway and Tom Sanders are dead. I’m sure Mary knows already, so you might want to check on her. Maybe not marrying you was best, right? This war might make you a widow.

But, really, Genny, I wish I had asked. You were my girl anyway. Sorry I was cold to you before I left. It’s hard going, knowing I might not come back.

Yours,

Daniel

I. A Visitor in the Night

Daniel Ryder woke up from another nightmare. The rest area was more comfortable than being out on the front, but it wasn’t home. He wanted a good bed and a good cup of coffee.

It was still dark outside, but people were moving. There was always someone moving. He had learned to sleep through almost anything.

He ran his hands over the stubble of his brown hair. He scratched the dimple in his chin for a moment while he tried to shut out the dream.

The mission. He wished he could shut it out. Wandering through those dark woods and towns was one of the worst experiences of his life. He felt like he could never get his bearings. Then he found the Germans. In the heat of battle, all he wanted was blood. He felt like his vision got a little red as he and Moore fought through. When it came to life or death, killing was easy. He lost most of his nobler ideals of war when he ran into narrow bunkers and didn’t have time to see who was surrendering and who was pulling a gun. He gunned them all down. He survived, they didn’t. He completed his objective.

Nightmares, Captain? asked a voice from the shadows.

Who’s there? Ryder asked. He squinted as the man lit a cigarette. The man was sitting on the only chair.

No one of consequence, the man said after taking a long drag. The end of the cigarette lit up part of his face. Ryder saw a curved nose and a small chin. The man’s face seemed to come to a point.

The man was in uniform, Ryder could tell that. He was also an officer. That suddenly dawned on Ryder and he snapped to his feet.

Relax, Captain, the man said. I’m not here to pull rank. I’m here to talk about the crazy priest.

The man was a major. What was he doing here? Ryder’s mind reeled as he tried to come up with a good way of explaining the crazy priest.

It’s okay, the major said, sitting back. I know all about him. Except what he said to you, exactly. Do you remember?

Of course I remember, Ryder sat down on the cot. If this was to be an interview, he wasn’t going to be uncomfortable.

Well, any more than he already was.

Ryder decided that he didn’t have to go into all the details. There was so much to the encounter that still didn’t make any sense.

He must have taken too long in answering because the major said, Well? What did he say?

"He said, ‘Moria, valor, monstrum.’ Then he handed me this cross." Ryder held up the cross around his neck. It was gray like steel; about three inches long, and looked like it was constructed by twisting fragments of metal together.

The major leaned forward. You still wear it?

Seems like it couldn’t hurt, Ryder said.

Had you ever seen this priest before?

I’m not even Catholic, Ryder said. No, never seen him.

Why do you think he picked you?

Ryder threw his hands in the air. I don’t know. Luck? Madness. I was in uniform, so maybe he was looking for a GI or something.

"Don’t you think it’s moria then?"

Don’t know what that means.

"It’s Greek for portion or lot. You might say fate. Didn’t you look it up?"

"Look it up? I was trying not to ask a girl to marry me and I had to ship out soon."

Geneva Madison?

Genevieve Madison. Genny, Ryder said.

The major was on his feet and walked over. He took the cross in his hand. It’s cold.

It never gets warm, Ryder said.

The major let the cross fall against Ryder’s chest.

And you don’t want to marry Genevieve Madison? he asked as he stamped out his cigarette and lit another one.

I don’t see how that matters, Ryder snapped. Who was that priest? What did he want with me?

The glowing end of the cigarette waved in the shadows. He had this thing. He thought he could see the future or something. Don’t know why he picked you. I expected him to come to me. He was working on something…something no one thought was important. When he got back to the States, he was supposed to come to us, but he didn’t. He left Washington, ended up in Pennsylvania, where he ran into you and said that thing in Greek, English, and Latin.

Working on something? What? Wasn’t he a priest?

Oh, he was a priest all right, the major said. He chuckled. Drunkest, most lecherous priest I’d ever met. Vatican would have tossed him out if we hadn’t got to him first. Still, he got some interesting information, and then he did his little crazy act with you.

We? He worked for the government? He had some kind of accent, Ryder said. His hand closed around the cold metal cross.

Romanian, the major said. He was also fluent in German. I’m sure you can appreciate having active agents in Romania.

No, I can’t, Ryder said.

Romania provides oil to the Axis, the major said. Some things happened there last month that, well, they’re good things for us.

OSS, Ryder said.

Excuse me?

You’re OSS, Ryder said.

Ryder didn’t need better light to see the grin. Very smart, Captain.

What do you want? Do you want the cross back?

Keep it. I’m sure he had a reason for giving it to you.

He was trying to keep the Germans from getting oil and ended up with a cross, yeah? Ryder asked.

He was a priest, the major said with a shrug. He did priest things. And when those things came across useful information, he let us know about it. Didn’t think he’d go crazy, though. Getting him out of the country was tough. Getting him back to the States was worse. But he said he had something we needed to know, and, therefore, we needed to know it.

Did you find him?

The major nodded and shifted on his feet. He took a drag on his cigarette. He was in a church near where you met him, Saint Deodatus Catholic Church in Ravenhill. He had gouged his eyes out and was screaming about some Nazi weapon. He then jumped from a balcony and splattered on the stone floor below. Pretty messy, as I understand it.

Ryder nodded. He could imagine.

Found his eyes in the holy water, the major added. Must have groped his way up all those stairs, which explains the bloody handprints on the walls.

The cross was cold in Ryder’s hand.

Tomorrow morning, the colonel is going to ask you to meet with him, the major said. You’re going to get a special mission. When you see me, pretend like we never met, okay?

Ryder stared.

Is that clear, Captain?

Yes, sir, Ryder said. He neither stood nor saluted.

Total strangers, understand?

Do I look stupid…sir?

The major smiled. You might make a good OSS operative, Captain.

I serve where my country asks, Ryder said.

I’ll keep that in mind, the major said. You might not like where your country will ask.

The man was gone. Ryder sat there on the cot, staring at the shadows.

If moria meant fate, what was the old priest saying? Moria, valor, monstrum. Monstrum had to mean monster, and Ryder knew what valor meant. Fate, valor, monster. Greek, English, Latin. It’s a good thing the old man didn’t throw in some German or people might think that Ryder was a Nazi spy.

Ryder stepped outside and breathed in the cool air. Fog clung to the ground. Ryder loved the smell of the world just before the sun came