“I met your grandfather for the first time near the end of World War Two. He was a brilliant and courageous man. Many years ago, he came upon a scientific principle that, if used unwisely, could cause great death and destruction. He wrote a paper warning of the possibilities, and the result was not what he expected. The Nazis captured him and forced him to work on a superweapon, using his theories.”

“That's incredible. He never gave any hint that he was anything but an inventor and businessman.”

“It's true. However, I helped him escape from the lab. He had refused to give up his secrets, and his stubbornness cost him his family. Yes, that's right. He was married and had a child before he moved to the United States after World War Two. He took his secret to the grave, but these men, or the ones they work for, think he passed the secret on to you.”

“What makes them think I know anything like that?”

“History repeats itself. You published an article on the extinction of the woolly mammoths.”

“That's right. I said it was due to climate changes caused by a polar shift. I used some of my grandfather's papers and his calculations to back up my theory. Dear God! Is that what they want?”

“That and more. They will do anything and kill anyone to get it.”

“But everything I know is in public view. I don't know anything about any secret!”

“Your grandfather told the Nazis the same thing. They didn't believe him either.”

“What can I do?”

“For now, you can keep yourself well.” He went back into his pack again and came out with some jerky and water. “Not exactly cordon bleu, but it will do for now. Maybe we will find some bats that we can cook into a big stew.”

“Now I remember,” Karla said with a smile. “You were always telling me about the crazy things you were going to cook up for me. Snails. Puppy dogs. Brussels sprouts. Ugh. Disgusting.”

“It was the best I could do. I had limited experience entertaining children.”

They talked about shared memories as they chewed the tough jerky. They were washing their meat down with water when they heard what sounded like a giant woodpecker at the mouth of the cave.

“They've started drilling,” Karla said.

Schroeder gathered up his things. “Time to get moving.” He handed Karla a light and suggested she use it sparingly, although he always carried plenty of batteries. Then they followed the cave deeper into the ground.

Schroeder had expected the temperature to rise the deeper they went and was heartened that it remained temperate, and that the air was relatively fresh. He remarked on the phenomenon to Karla, and suggested that the cave might eventually lead outdoors. He knew it was a slim hope, especially after the cave floor began to slant downward, but it seemed to give Karla courage.