CHAPTER 1

22 OCTOBER 1939

PIER 57

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

Being stationed in the city sometimes seemed like a good thing. Seaman Reggie Benson could think of any number of assignments that were far worse. He had heard about how the Navy was getting ready to start “volunteering” guys to be stationed in Iceland. Reggie made sure he thought about that as he tramped around the warehouse, pulled his long coat even tighter, and adjusted the wool cap under his ‘tin hat.’ Then he made himself remember Iceland again. Of all the good times that you could have, being in the Big Apple, this night was most definitely not one of them. He watched his breath float away every single time he mumbled the word, “Iceland.”

Reggie stopped at one corner of the warehouse. He saw a man standing in the shadows. Reggie had wondered about that guy. The man looked no different than any number of others who wandered the piers. Reggie had actually even asked about the guy and someone had mentioned that he was a merchant marine. Reggie accepted the explanation even if the guy seemed a tad bit creepy.

It was obvious that the man was not trying to hide himself. He might have been partly concealed in a shadow but, he lit up a smoke when he saw Reggie and even tipped his cap. Reggie gave a wave off the brim of his helmet, adjusted the weight of the Springfield rifle, that hung on his shoulder, and kept on walking. The guy was no threat.

In a little while Reggie was back in front of the main door of the warehouse and talking with the other unfortunate to have drawn this duty. Jacob Scott was just closing the little call box that was wired up next to the warehouse service door. Jacob had to check in every hour and he looked at his watch when he finished, “right on time. That little twerp of an Ensign better stay off my ass now. I haven’t missed a call in tonight. Not one.”

Scott was always worried about such things whereas the only thing Reggie cared about at the moment was, “man, you got a Lucky Strike on you? I ran out.”

That caused Jacob to just roll his eyes as he fished for the pack under his coat. He popped one out and, when Reggie had it firmly between his fingers, Jacob could see the next question written on Reggie’s face, “don’t tell me you need a light too? You are one sorry sailor, Benson.”

“Hey,” Reggie protested, “I carry just enough matches to light a pack, ok?”

“Cheap bastard,” Scott replied, “why don’t you just do like everybody else and get a damn Zippo?”

Reggie grumbled, “are you going to stand around and complain or are you going to give me a fucking light?”

The groaning noise from inside the warehouse was followed by what almost sounded like an explosion. Reggie barely had time to process what he had heard when he noticed the bright blue light shining through the high windows of the warehouse. Reggie was looking up at them when he let the cigarette fall from his lips. Then he mumbled to Jacob, “don’t you think that was a little over doing it?”

“Shut up,” Scott growled back as he opened the call box back up. He was almost shouting in the phone, “this is post four, post four! We have a… a… something’s going on inside the warehouse!” After a moment of waiting, and pushing away Benson who never let his eyes turn from the light, Jacob finally got an officer on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know what happened sir! We got, well it sounded like an explosion and then, well, maybe a fire?”

Reggie slapped his fellow guard on the arm, “hey Jake, the light just turned off.”

Jacob Scott had already hung up the phone and was going for the keys on his belt, “too late. Sides, till I know what the hell that was, I’m happy enough to get all the help they can send.”

That made Reggie ask, just to be sure, “they are sending help? I am assuming this.” Another voice from just down the pier caused Reggie to almost jump. He slid his Springfield rifle off his shoulder and worked the bolt to chamber a round. He did not exactly point it at the stranger but, he made sure the bayonet on the end of it was plainly threatening. He told the man, the same guy he had seen earlier, “sir, just go on about your business. This is Uncle Sam stuff, not Mickey Mouse.”

The guy was still not close enough for Reggie to get a real good look at his face but, as far as the Seaman was concerned, that was just fine. The man acted easy enough when he replied, “never got too much into Disney. I was always more an X-Men kind of guy. Sides, I was just wondering what all the racket was down here.”

Now Jacob pointed at the man and in a commanding voice, “sir please vacate the area!”

The guy just shrugged and easily walked away. Now Jacob concentrated on what really had him worried and that was the door he had just opened. The blue light was definitely gone and the inside of the warehouse was now pitch black. Jacob grabbed his flash light from his belt and turned it on. Then Reggie reached inside the door and flipped on the light switch. This made Jacob, already somewhat irked, put away his flashlight as he sneered at Reggie, “smart ass.”

Both sailors entered the warehouse with their weapons at the ready. It became quite clear that there had been no explosion and, more important, no fire either. In fact, Reggie was quite amazed at how empty this place was. It was a huge building with little more than a few shipping crates scattered about. The two sailors quickly took cover behind some.

Reggie could not help himself when he suddenly became curious about what was in the crate he was hiding behind. He looked on the side and tried to read the upside down word stamped across the planks. He asked Jacob, “is that Italian?”

Jacob was more concerned about what he was seeing on the other side of the building. He still glanced down and silently read the word before telling Reggie, “that says ‘fragile’ dumb ass.”

Reggie peeked over the open lip of the container and saw, of all things, a cheap plastic imitation of a woman’s leg in high heels and fishnets. There was a lamp shade, half buried in straw next to it. Reggie asked, “what do you suppose that is?”

“Something not important,” Jacob replied. He then slapped Reggie on the arm and they both jumped out from behind their cover and rushed towards the opposite side of the warehouse. They stopped just short of the huge crate that was nearly a story tall. Despite it’s size, and the big hole in it, the sailors largely ignored it because they were too busy pointing their bayonets at what was on the floor.

Reggie stated the obvious, “it’s a fat kid?”

Jacob sneered again, “ya think?”

The kid with the sloppy hair and clothes was laying face down on the concrete and had yet to move or acknowledge their presence. Jacob, with his bayonet at the ready, nudged the kid with his foot. He got no response so he did it again and, this time, he at least got a moan. Jacob sighed in relief, “he’s alive at least.”

Reggie got down on one knee and handed his weapon to Jacob who was protesting the entire time. Reggie waved the guy off, “he’s a fat kid, Jake. Not exactly the greatest single threat to the good ole US of A.”

Jacob shot back, “what if he’s like a German or something?”

Reggie groaned as he rolled the kid over. The boy was moaning but he had a good sized bump on the noggin and was not really coherent. As Reggie laid him out he saw the boys red shirt underneath the funny looking jacket. Reggie pointed to the words on the shirt and read them aloud, “You Are Here.” With pride he noted to his fellow sentry, “does that look like German words to you?”

Jacob just grunted and tossed the extra rifle back to Benson. He then walked over to the huge crate. It was obvious that this thing was the only property the Navy was storing here. The few other items and crates looked to be junk, that was left behind by the people that had recently vacated the building. Jacob found himself amazed at what he had been blindly guarding up till now. The size of the crate, alone, was impressive but, only a little more jaw dropping than hole in it.

That hole led Jacob to noticing that, while this thing was tall and wide, it was also extremely thin. He then pulled out his flash light and shined it up into the crate that, at first, he had thought to be empty. What he saw made him gape in wonder. He had to ask, “what in the hell is that?”

Reggie was still busy with the kid. The sailor slapped the boy lightly on the cheeks until he got the first coherent words. That made Reggie stand back up and tell the boy, “hang on kid. I’ll get you some water.”

There was a fountain over by the door and when Reggie turned to head that way he saw the man from earlier, once again, standing in the shadows. Reggie pointed at the open door and growled, “you aren’t supposed to be in here!”

The man promptly left but, Reggie figured, that might have had more to do with the sounds of approaching sirens than anything else. Either way, the ass hole was gone and that was all that mattered. When Reggie finally got back to the kid, with some water, the boy was starting to come round. The kid reached out and took the cup and sucked it down in no time flat. Jacob was now back, from his examination of the crate, and standing over the boy as well. Jacob quickly pointed out, “you do realize you’re trespassing on US Government Property, don’t you son?”

That caused the boys eyes to fly wide open. They stayed that way as he examined his surroundings with great interest. He then said, “did you say US Government? As in, the United States? You know, of America?”

Reggie and Jacob became a bit confused. Reggie just shrugged and then replied to the kid, “you know of another one?”

Before the boy could answer, Jacob sternly asked the question that was most important to him, “how did you get in here? This place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

Now the kid, sitting up under his own power, was carefully examining the two guards. He did answer the question even if Jacob did not understand it. The boy pointed towards the tall crate and specifically the big hole in it. He told the two navy men, “through that.”

Reggie’s only reply to that was, “he knocked his head pretty good Jake. Give the kid a break will you?”

Jacob was not sure the kids injury had much to do with the answer. The kid seemed pretty sure of what he had just said and showed no signs of disorientation. Jacob wanted too but, would not get a chance to ask the kid to clarify. More sailors, followed by New York City policemen, came pouring into the warehouse just then. Jacob grumbled and marched off to make his report to the new arrivals. He had no idea what he was going to say and was slightly worried about getting into trouble over this.

Reggie stayed behind to help the kid to his feet. They were both being surrounded by a sea of uniforms and the kid was very busy looking at them. Reggie didn’t think that the boy’s expression was fear or, at least, not the kind you would get from being arrested. The expression on the boys face looked far more alarming than that and, after he reached his feet, the kid asked Reggie, “um, I know this is going to sound like a totally ridiculous question but…”

There was obvious hesitation. Reggie had to prompt him, “go ahead kid. Ask away. Course if the question is, are you under arrest, the answer to that one is most certainly yes.” As if to confirm Reggie’s suspicion, the boy did not seem all that concerned about the arrest part. He became very alarmed when he got the answer to his question though.

Reggie answered the question no matter how nonsensical he thought it was, “who’s the president? That knock on your head was harder than I thought. Everybody knows it’s FDR and let me tell you kid, he’s been there so long I don’t see how anybody could amnesia that away.” After thinking about it for a second longer Reggie noted, “you must be a Republican.”

The answer did not come. The kid passed out and dropped to the floor, unconscious once more.