OTRAG
Heinlein lost himself in paperwork at Warren PD for the next few hours. He needed time to process where he was going with this – for want of a better label – “monster” investigation thing. If he told his boss half of what he suspected he’d be told to leave his Gold Detective’s shield and Glock at the duty Seargeant’s station while somebody escorted him out of the building. His career was on the line with this one.
Crazy Indian legends. A Crazy Indian Chief suggesting he hook up with Nazis. “Extra-Territorial” Breakaway Societies. Hungry subterranean lizards. WTF?
He was just spell-checking his last report – a sex offender “grabby” incident at Starbucks in town – when his cell phone rang. It flashed “Unknown Caller”.
His gut told him to answer anyway. The message was cryptic – spoken in a monotone, metallic – clearly simulated – voice.
“Park your car in the rear of Chase Bank at the corner of Mount Horeb and Washington Valley Roads at 6:45PM. At precisely 7:00PM a black car will arrive. Get in the back seat. You’re being taken to dinner. A jacket and tie are required”.
Well now. Heinlein mused. Sachem Crow-Feather must’ve reached out to his friends. At least he’ll get a free meal out of it.
At 7:00PM A black BMW sedan pulled up at the rear of Chase Bank. A cheerful looking young man got out and opened the rear door for Heinlein to get in. The Detective didn’t speak a word beyond “Thanks”.
The car smelled of leather and newness. Everything about it screamed money. The Detective resolved to stay mute and see what unfolded.
They drove through Warren, up Washington Valley Road and at Route 206 headed right. A quick left and they pulled up to The Pluckemin Inn, called “The Plucky” by locals, a trendy and expensive Somerset County eatery. His chauffer dutifully opened his door and gestured Heinlen towards the restaurant entrance.
Upon entering, Heinlein was immediately approached by the Maitre’d.
“Detective Heinlein?” He said – and without waiting for a reply – added “follow me, please”.
Heinlein was led to a table towards the back of the restaurant in what looked like a very private corner reserved for VIPs. Already seated there were two guys with empty Martini glasses yucking it up like they were old College Frat buds.
Heinlein approached the table.
“Ahh, our dinner guest!” Blustered the guy on the left. “I’m Jack Tenerife, Special Agent, National Defense Agency – NSA.” He reached out his hand.
“And may I introduce Herr Doktor Professor August Beirling, Special Advisor to OTRAG.”
Heinlein shook both their hands and took his seat – there were only three chairs at the table. A waiter appeared as if by magic – and Heinlein ordered a Cutty Sark on the Rocks. These guys weren’t drinking beer – apparently this meeting was gonna’ be a hard stuff sit-down with manly men.
Herr Doctor Professor August Beirling was a bookish-looking middle-aged executive type who had dark hair and well-cut clothes. His dress shirt was obviously bespoke. His tie was classic Oxford old school. And yes – he wore a Rolex Submariner. Special Agent Tenerife, on the other hand, appeared to a Joe Banks “Off the Rack” kinda’ guy who sported a Seiko timepiece.
Tenerife jumped right into their agenda.
“A little bird told me you local law enforcement guys need a magic tracker for a… shall we say, exotic Cryptoid entity. The good Doktor Professor here and his band of Aryan Übermensch are our go-to contract problem-solvers when we come across something we gotta’ handle on the down-low. Especially when it concerns nuclear stuff. Savvy? Doc – why don’t you fill in good Detective Heinlein on the game plan…”
Doctor Beirling took off his black-framed glasses and focused a well- weathered face on Heinlein. The Detective noted some hard wear-and-tear in the man’s look that contrasted markedly with the pristine cut of his suit. This guy’s odometer had well over a hundred thousand miles on it.
“Detective Heinlein. Are you aware of an organization called OTRAG?”
Heinlein picked up just the slightest whiff of an accent – but it didn’t seem German. It seemed French….Heinlein figured South Germany – perhaps the Alsace-Lorraine area near the French border or maybe Switzerland. Heinlein was good with accents. Everybody and their brother assumed Heinlein was of German ancestry – but he wasn’t. His father was Dutch and his mother was Russian. He was raised in the Russian Orthodox faith. Being a Detective in Warren, however, was easier if everybody thought he had a German background. A “German-cop old boys club”. The ruse came in handy.
The Detective responded to Beirling’s question with a short but sweet “No”.
“OTRAG is an acronym for Orbital Transport und Raketen Aktiengesellschaft – Orbital Transport & Rockets, Inc. It is a West German aerospace company founded in 1974 by a former Third Reich scientist named Lenz von Kaper. It was set up in Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) on a massive 38,600 square mile area, secured by an unprecedented lease negotiated by the West German Government – subject to one stipulation. OTRAG was conferred the status of an Embassy; it is virtually Sovereign territory. OTRAG has its own Army of mercenaries, missile defense capabilities and air force. All costs are underwritten by and guaranteed by West Germany. What did Zaire – and later the DR Congo get out of the deal? Nuclear energy generated by OTRAG’s own on-site Nuclear Power Plant and all the scientific infrastructural support it could hope for. Africa has the natural resources – and OTRAG has the scientific knowhow. It was – and continues to be – a very symbiotic and profitable undertaking. Its footprint has since been reduced to about 10,000 square miles in order to expand Zaire’s wild game preserve. This has opened up significant commercial opportunities for everyone involved.
Of course, OTRAG was ideal for rocket launches – it’s closer to the Equator than Germany – and far enough from prying eyes to pursue its own brand of Nuclear Physics that it inherited from the Third Reich”.
Heinlein’s face must have broadcasted some surprise because Dr. Beirling stopped his monologue to give the Detective a chance to ask questions. It also gave everyone a chance to order another round of Martinis and Cutty Sark – and dinner. Heinlein got the New York Porterhouse steak – rare. (What the Hell – somebody else was paying). Beirling and Tenerife ordered Filet Mignon. Tenerife also made clear to the waiter that the drinks should keep coming until further notice.
“I didn’t know Germany had any Nuclear appetites…why did they need such a grandiose African enterprise? Do they want an Atom Bomb?” Heinlein asked in a jocular tone.
The look on both Beirling’s and Tenerife’s face instantly made Heinlein feel foolish – or at least, uninformed. Tenerife actually took a belt of his Martini and guffawed audibly. He settled into a grin from ear to ear.
“Why don’t you tell him, Doc!” The NSA Agent said. “Tell him the forbidden History of World War Two!!”
Beirling looked at Heinlein like a Professor about to explain calculus to a below-average student. His condescending personality burned Heinlein’s ass.
“Detective Heinlein…
In 1945, when World War II was reaching its crescendo, the United States’ Manhattan Project decided to pursue both avenues of a Uranium bomb and a Plutonium Bomb to forever insure America’s military primacy. American stocks of fissile – that is, centrifuge – enriched Uranium 235, however, were short. They didn’t have enough enriched Uranium 235 to do both bombs. By their best estimates they wouldn’t have sufficient enriched feed stock from their Oak Ridge, Tennessee and Hanford, Washington facilities until the end of November of 1945 to build both a Uranium Bomb and a Plutonium Bomb.
But wait a minute! The USA dropped two Atomic Bombs on Japan in August of 1945! How did they do it?
It’s well documented that they took all of their available enriched Uranium created in Oak Ridge, Tennessee and then trucked it to their special Plutonium processing centrifuges (called Calutrons) in Hanford, Washington in Spring of 1945. There it was all processed into Plutonium. They then used everything they had to create “Fat Man” – A bulbous monstrosity – a Plutonium implosion bomb – that America dropped on Nagasaki on August 9, 1945.
Question: How did they drop a few days before – on August 6, 1945 – an enriched Uranium 235 “gun-type” bomb on Hiroshima named “Little Boy”? Where the Hell did that Atomic Bomb come from?
How did the USA build “Little Boy” if they burned through all of their enriched Uranium feed stocks in Hanford, Washington, to process it into Plutonium for “Fat Man?”
Dr. Beirling stopped his history lesson and looked at Heinlein, expecting an answer to his question.
Heinlein took a belt of Cutty sark and punted. If this self-important douchebag got any more aggravating, Heinlein was going to draw his duty weapon and double- tap him.
“I haven’t the slightest idea…”
Doctor Beirling smiled.
“Of course you don’t. No one dare question the popular narrative that somehow America miraculously pulled fissile-grade Uranium 235 out of its ass…
Well, here is what actually happened. The real historical truth.
In April of 1945 it was clear to the German high command that the war was lost. On March 26, 1945, Unterseeboot 234, or U-234, a massive type XB cargo-carrying submarine displacing some 2,700 tons submerged and capable of a cruising range of some 21,000 sea miles at 10 knots departed Kiel, Germany with orders to reach Japan and there off-load some precious cargo to German’s ally. Ironic, isn’t it? That the submarine U-234 has so much to do with our discussion of enriched Uranium 235? One of history’s many odd or perhaps, mystical fact convergences.
What was in Unterseeboot-234?
Gold tubes filled with precious enriched Uranium, a fully disassembled Messerschmitt Me262 Jet Fighter, Dr. Heinz Schlicke – inventor of the “proximity fuse”, advanced radars and other goodies that were destined to be handed over to Japan so they could continue the war. You see, Japan had an active nuclear bomb development program, too – and they were close…very close to a successful detonation at their Korean research facilities.
Also in the cargo hold of U-234 was a wooden crate with big red Radiation symbols painted on it. The Prize – later to be Christened “Little Boy”. A German, “gun-type” Uranium Atomic Bomb.
Untersseeboot 234 never got to Japan. Somewhere in the Altlantic, Captain Johann Heinrich Fehler, Commandant of U-234 surrendered to American authorities. In Portsmouth, New Hampshire, U-234 was picked clean of its entire cargo of precious booty. A technological goldmine. It was rumored that when the American Manhattan Project Physicist Dr. Luis Alvarez – who supervised the removal of U-234’s cargo – saw the wooden crate with the Radiation symbols painted on it he gleefully blurted out: “Come to Papa, Little Boy” and the name stuck.
The Americans knew the Gold Tubes filled with enriched Uranium were on board. Common Uranium Oxide “Yellowcake” can be transported in cardboard boxes! That’s why precious Gold was used as a container: to protect the crew from radioactivity. And the Americans knew about “Little Boy”.
How?
A “deal” had been negotiated by Nazi SS Obergruppenfuhrer Martin Borman to surrender just what the Americans needed in return for letting thousands of Nazis and their wealth escape to South America. The United States also got the “Operation Paperclip” scientists and Werner von Braun thrown in for good measure. Borman knew von Braun’s V1 and V2 designs were old hat anyway, compared to what the Germans were working on at their infamous Skoda Works in Czechoslovakia under the brilliant Nazi engineer, SS-Obergruppenfuhrer Hans Kammler.
The bottom line is this: Uranium oxide was being transported in Gold Tubes because it was enriched. It was radioactive. Science 101. German physicists had discovered a unique “Photonic” method of enriching Uranium to fissile strength without the need for sprawling Centrifuge-Calutron facilities like Hanford, Washington. Our German brand of “Non-Einsteinian” Physics to this day is classified “Above Top-Secret” by your government. Of course, we at OTRAG work with nothing else.
“Little Boy” was a Uranium 235 “gun-type” bomb that used fissile-strength Uranium enriched in Germany by our unique Photonic process. Germans knew the secret of Uranium enrichment in 1944 – but they weren’t interested in dropping a Uranium bomb in battle because Radiation generated by its blast would pollute any target for years. Germany wanted “Lebensraum” – living space – not polluted Moonscapes that couldn’t be used by German farmers or industry in their inevitable and glorious future. They wanted their enemies removed, leaving behind rich non-radioactive soil. They had big plans for the territory they were intending to conquer – and waiting decades for radioactivity to dissipate wasn’t part of their vision.
Intercepted radio communications from the Mexican Embassy in early August of 1945 recorded the Mexican Ambassador to the USA in New York telling his superiors in Mexico City that “America is going to use the German Bomb on Japan soon…”
We Germans have been tickling the atom for decades, Detective Heinlein. Doktor Theodor Kaluza invented Relativistic Physics in in 1919 at the University of Gottingen – and Einstein stole it! We invented Atomic Bombs. We made them first – but never used them. It is your country, Detective Heinlein, that used the first atomic weapons! Never forget it!
But enough history…let us discuss our business. Elimination of your Cryptoid menace in Warren can be accomplished by first getting it to ingest radioactive Thorium. Perhaps trick it into eating a specially infected goat – and then we at OTRAG can track it with our satellites even through the depths and crevasses of Watchung schist rock. After years living in this area of the Earth’s mantle, it must be impervious to radiation – and dosing it with Thorium will give us a specific tracer signature. We can pinpoint where it will emerge – and then our people can kill it.
“What does OTRAG get from this deal?’ Heinlein asked.
“The dead Cryptoid carcass. The bioweapons research potential of such an organism cannot be overestimated…and, of course, our good friends at the NSA will also reap the benefits of our findings. We at OTRAG are reliable allies of your country…”
Heinlein had reached the end of his Porterhouse steak. He scooped up the last of his potatoes, pounded the rest of his Cutty Sark and stood up.
He knew a hustle when he saw one. And he was the pigeon.
“Well, thank you, Gentlemen for this most illuminating dinner. If you’ll kindly signal your driver to take me back to the Chase Bank lot where I left my car…
…and please bear in mind: this is my jurisdiction and my case. Your proposed “solution” is interesting, but – with thanks – I’m going to pass on your help. I will, of course, insist that you do not interfere with my investigation on your own, given your interest in acquiring the Cryptoid’s remains. Good evening.”
With that, Heinlein strode out of The Plucky to the black BMW that was patiently waiting for him outside. His mind was racing – but his gut was flashing red.
“Accept anything more than a steak from these assholes and you’ll be their bitch forever” He thought.
Actually, he’d learned a lot during his dinner.
He already knew he hated insufferable, bloviating Nazis almost as much as he hated Feds. Most of his father’s family in Holland had been killed by Nazis. And that NSA spook Tenerife was pond scum. Both of them were nauseating.
Conclusion? This Cryptoid – or whatever it was – had a value. Heavy hitters knew what was going on in Warren and were ready to throw big bucks and high-tech science at this freakish thing …to bag its corpse and turn its cells into a weapon. Heinlein surmised that other unsavory characters were soon going to be sniffing around his investigation, too.
There was a pungent smell of Ka-Ching wafting around this whole affair…people were circling for a sweet payday. Was our noble Leni Lenape Sachem Crow-Feather in the queue for his cut?
Bioweapons are big business. But if research is going to be done on Cryptoid cells, why not do it for medicines? Cancer research? DNA secrets that can help us all survive a pandemic?
It was time to go home and nurse more Cutty Sark. He had some thinkin’ drinkin’ to do.
Copyright, 2025 Jon Croft and his Assignees
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