He went over and studied the diagrams, trying to figure out what it was depicting. It was a large ovoid with a complex network of wires covering it and some kind of stabilizing base, like that of a rocket ship.

He turned the page to see a new design, a rework of the first. Then on the next page, yet more lines and shapes.

As he worked his way through the workbook, the feeling of anxiety built inside of him. The diagrams were becoming increasingly meticulous. No more did they look like the excited doodles of an imaginative mind. They were starting to look more and more like schematics: precise, ordered, and thorough. The handwriting was becoming neater, then shakier, as if the hand whod written them had aged.

Dread crept up Olivers gullet. The truth hit him. He was holding Lucass finished designs.

This was the bomb.

But there was more to it than that. On the table were more documents. And they were not written in English.

Oliver had had language classes at school. He knew enough to know that the writing was in German. And his history classes had taught him that in 1944, the Germans were the enemies.

Olivers heart began to beat rapidly. He quickly thumbed through the paperwork. It was as thick as a dossier, filled with written correspondences. He desperately wished he could read what was being communicated.

But when he reached the last page, he didnt need a translation to tell him how dangerous what he was holding in his hands really was. His heart clenched as he realized the last page was a contract, signed by Lucas. And there, stamped in the spot for the second signatory, was a swastika.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Olivers head spun. Had Lucas sold his bomb to the Nazis?

Oliver noticed then that amidst the paperwork was a photo of Lucas. Not the young boy version of this timeline, but as the old man Oliver knew. And more chilling than seeing the elderly Lucas in the past where he did not belong was what he was wearing in the photo: a Nazi uniform.

The army in his dream. The uniforms matched!

Oliver drew back and gasped. But he had no time to let anything sink in, because suddenly he heard the sound of a revving engine. From the window, he saw a truck entering the shadowy lot of the factory. It drew to a halt and several men jumped out. They streaked across the courtyard. A small shadowy figure ushered them inside the factory. It was the young Lucas.

Oliver grabbed all the paperwork, shoving it hurriedly into his overall pockets. Then he darted out of the room, clattering down the spiral staircase.

He was just in the nick of time. The sound of heavy boots echoed down the corridor as Oliver backed into an alcove. He could hear whispering voices speaking in sharp, hurried German.