"The Magnus scalpel," Dr. Arthur Nielsen said, as he conducted one of his usual informal briefings in the breakfast nook of Leena's bed-and-breakfast, "was kept in a chased silver case, and it was among various odds and ends in the Hirschfeld-Eddy Stiftung in Berlin."
Surrounding the table were everyone - Myka, Pete, Claudia, Leena, and Artie, of course.
"The scalpel," Artie continued, "was supposed to..."
"Stiff-what?" Pete Lattimer, one of the three current field agents of the warehouse interrupted in his usual perplexed-exasperated tone.
"It means 'foundation' in German, all right? The Hirschfeld-Eddy Foundation. Okay?"
"Cool, Artie. Just askin'..." Pete made a patting-down gesture.
Myka cleared her throat, cutting off the budding argument. "Okay. The Hirschfeld-Eddy Foundation. So what's the foundation all about?"
"It's a foundation focused on lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender rights," Artie answered.
Myka looked puzzled. "So what has a scalpel got to do with a foundation for gay rights?"
"The foundation is named after FannyAnn Eddy, a lesbian gay rights activist murdered about seven years ago, and Magnus Hirschfeld - a world-war-two era activist and physician who specialized in helping people with gender-identity disorders, and was an early pioneer in sexual reassignment surgeries. In fact, he was involved with one of the first sexual reassignment surgeries ever done. The scalpel belonged to one of Dr. Hirschfeld's surgeon assistants, who was transgendered himself. He considered Dr. Hirschfeld his mentor. Anyway, the scalpel was discovered in a bunch of personal effects in Bonn, and the doctor's family decided to send it to the foundation. The family wanted to get rid of it because it had a reputation for bad luck, that death is supposed to surround it."
"Whoa," Claudia said. "it's like, what, the scalpel of death or something?"
"Maybe. I couldn't find any records about it anywhere in the warehouse, though. Anyway, the foundation people reported that it mistakenly misplaced it along with a bunch of other medical instruments that were on the way to a local Berlin medical college. But the scalpel and its case never did arrive at the college."
"Sounds like a dead end," Pete said. "Any other details, Artie?"
"Well, at about the same time that the shipment of instruments from the Foundation was to arrive in Berlin, an American medical exchange student who was at that Berlin College flew back home to the states. Washington DC, actually, and he has been working at a small free clinic there since. And records show, since he arrived, sixty patients of the clinic have disappeared, and the clinic has also had sixty deaths of unidentified homeless people in the same period. Dying homeless people are not surprising given it's a free clinic. But it's still an incredibly high number - almost two disappearances and two deaths a day. And it's an incredible coincidence that the number of missing patients is the same as the number of dead homeless people.
"Dundun-dunnn..." Claudia said.
"That's enough, Claudia," Artie said. "This is serious."
Claudia stuck her tongue out at Artie. "Mr. Grumpy..."
Artie growled.
"So," Myka said, "Pete and I are going to DC?" She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
"Yes, but there's more. The regents sent me this. A totally different, unconnected thing, but the regents want us to work on it ASAP."
He plopped down a set of stapled papers. They all looked down at the coffee table. It was a list of people.
In a very Pete kind of way, Claudia said, "huh?"
"That's a list of about nine hundred federal agents," Artie said, "from the Secret Service, the FBI, the, ATF, the US Marshals, DEA, even a few from local police departments and SWAT units."
"What, no military types?"
Artie turned the page and pointed to a few names. There were three dozen names from the air force, army and marines, plus a couple of navy officers.
"Cool," Claudia said. "All that's left are the Men in Black, then."
Artie smiled that crooked little smile of his.
Claudia's eyes grew wide. "You're telling us there are actual men in black? Oh, god! Like, you're kidding, right? Right!?"
Artie couldn't hold it in anymore and laughed out loud. "Of course there aren't any Men in Black, Claudia! If ever there were a Men in Black, I think we are the Men in Black."
"Ahh, nuts..." Claudia pouted.
"So, Artie," Myka said, picked up the list and shook it. "Why?"
"Umm," Artie reluctantly began, looking at Claudia sideways. "The regents have expressed concerns about the loss of Steve, and have given us this list to look for a replacement. After Sally Stukowski, though, the regents have become very concerned about security, and they went through great pains to pre-screen prospective agents. Their vetting process was as thorough as they could make it, but they're leaving it up to us to do the final selection."
"Why us? Interview?" Pete commented. "No one interviewed us. Just Mrs. Frederic and her 'world of infinite wonder' shtick, and here we are."
"Well," Artie answered, "Mrs. Frederic isn't around to do that anymore, so we do it the hard and tedious way." Artie went to Claudia. "Are you okay with this?"
Claudia shrugged. "No big." She turned and walked out of the room.
"Claudia?" Myka said, and moved to follow her.
"Myka," Leena said, putting her hand on Myka's arm, stopping her from following Claudia. "Let her go for now. Give her some space. Let her come back to us on her own."
Myka nodded.
"So," Artie continued his briefing. "This is how it's gonna work." He pointed at Pete. "You and Myka are going to go through this list, eliminate those you think aren't suitable or those you think can't hack it, and then go interview the rest. I've made arrangements for you to use a conference room in the Secret Service recruitment office in DC."
Pete got the list, turned the pages over and over in his hand. "How long do we have before we have to pick one out?"
"As much time as you need," replied Artie.
Pete was about to whoop in joy until Artie said, catching him in mid-whoop, "... so long as you finish up in a week..."
That deflated Pete almost immediately.
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"And as soon as you finish selecting the guy..."
"Or girl," Myka interrupted.
"Or girl..." Artie agreed impatiently. "Start a briefing. I will fly out and we can start investigating the Magnus Scalpel thing."
"What will you and Claude be doing while we're interviewing people?" Pete asked.
"Claudia and Leena will continue the rehabilitation of the warehouse's systems and I'll be in Berlin, gathering information and trying to pick up some clues."
"Why do you get to go to Europe while we get stuck in DC?" Pete asked a little petulantly.
"Das ist, weil Sie nicht wissen, wie die lokale Sprache sprechen," Artie smugly said in fluent German.
"Huh?"
"It's because we don't know how to speak German," Myka explained.
Artie bent over, grunting, and picked up two computer bags from underneath the coffee table. "Here are a couple of Secret Service standard-issue laptops, with all the Secret Service security seals still intact, which Claudia and I have souped up warehouse style. Your itinerary is inside, as well as the list of interviewees and the Magnus case file."
He opened one of the normal-looking computers and demoed. "These are guaranteed to pass muster in any security check. They look and function just like any other Secret Service computer, except they have permanent undetectable Farnsworth data links to the warehouse, which will allow you to surf any site anywhere, and they are hack-proof and virus-proof, and have practically unlimited battery life courtesy of Claudia and myself."
He noted Pete's uneasy stare at the computer. "You DO know how to use a computer, don't you?" Artie asked.
"Of course!" Pete said, feigning indignance.
"I don't mean Angry Birds!"
Pete shrugged sheepishly.
Myka brushed the discussion aside by closing the computer, stuffing it into its bag and handing it to Pete. "I take it we're already booked on a flight to DC?" she asked Artie.
"Your flight leaves in two hours, and you two are expected at the Secret Service HQ as soon as you land."
Myka nodded and grabbed Pete's arm. "Okay, Pete. Let's go pack."
Pete trailed the ever-efficient Myka. "Hey, hey! Myka, wait up!"
Artie just shook his head.
-----
After packing, Myka and Pete went to Claudia's room. Artie had given the young techno-whiz instructions to stick around just in case Pete and Myka needed help.
"Claudia?" Pete called.
"Guys," Claudia answered.
They found her lounging on her bed.
Myka sat beside her and pulled her into a hug. "You okay, sweetie?"
"I'm okay."
"Hey, Claude?" Pete asked. "You okay, with this? With us getting a... replacement for Steve?"
"Hey, it's okay. We need a new guy. There're too many cases for us to handle. All I ask is you pick a good one."
"We'll do our best," Pete said.
On the flight to DC, Pete and Myka went over the files they were given. Too many names, but with the help of the laptops and their Secret Service access to government databases, they were able to eliminate a lot of them. (The Farnsworth link allowed them to surf even while in flight.) They noticed no CIA/NSA names in the list, though. A note from Artie said that the regents decided not to include them since it would have required a bit more complex vetting process.
Myka envied Pete's talent - his "vibe" seemed to allow him to instinctively take out unsuitable candidates. To test it, she took one of the names that Pete eliminated and evaluated the man herself. She found that the man had some problems with high places, even more so than Pete, which made him a liability. So she agreed that the man was unsuitable. Out of curiosity, she asked Pete why he crossed the man's name off the list. Pete just shrugged and said that he just had "a feeling."
By the end of the four-hour flight, Myka had eliminated about fifty names and Pete had crossed off an additional eight hundred or so. That left them about fifty - which was an almost manageable number of candidates. Myka emailed the remaining names to Artie, and Artie emailed back promptly that he will have all of them notified and in DC as early as tomorrow.
Just then the stewardess came by and asked them to switch off the computers since they were about to land.
They both complied, and in less than an hour, they were out of customs and headed out to the rented car conveniently waiting in the courtesy parking lot. Artie was as efficient as ever.
"So, what's the plan, Mikes," Pete asked as he got in the passenger seat. He allowed Myka the driver's seat since he knew she'd want to drive. Besides, all he wanted to do was relax for as much as possible on this milk run of an assignment.
"I was thinking of checking in with the bureau chief at the office and confirm our reservation for the interview room, check in at our hotel and have some dinner," Myka said as she started up the rented, nondescript black Ford sedan, and pulled out of the lot. "Let's be at the bureau seven AM tomorrow. S we can start the interviews ASAP."
"Sounds like a plan," Pete responded, and promptly fell into a nap.
"Pete!" Myka exclaimed and hit Pete on the shoulder.
"What, Myka!" Pete responded, thoughts of sleep suddenly banished.
"Don't you wanna talk about the assignment?"
"No..." Myka hit him again. "Ow! Okay, okay! Although I don't know what there is to talk about. We go in, interview some people, and pick one. Simple, huh?" He gave Myka that patented boyish grin of his that he knew irritated Myka to death.
"Not that, you goof!" Myka said. "The other assignment. About the Magnus scalpel. How about we go over what we have?"
Pete finally sat up. "Okay, okay," he said again, irritatedly. "No use trying to nap anymore..." he mumbled.
"Okay," Myka said as she smoothly steered around the ever-present DC traffic. "We know the thing is a surgical scalpel..."
"Although we don't know if it's a real artifact," Pete said.
"We'll have to find that out later, when we get it back. But what do you suppose it does, if it IS an artifact?"
"Well, artifacts are supposed to be imbued with something from its owner or user."
"Okay. It's the Magnus Scalpel, right? So who was Magnus anyway?"
Pete reached over to the backseat and retrieved his laptop. He started surfing, searching for the name. Myka was amazed that Pete was actually, gasp! computer-literate!
"Okay. Here we go. Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld." Pete started reading and Myka paid attention.
Using Claudia's self-designed search engine, Pete read aloud that the first successful human sex change took place in 1950 when Danish doctor Christian Hamburger changed GI New Yorker George William Jorgensen into Christine Jorgensen. But it wasn't the first such operation.
Twenty years earlier, in 1930, the testicles of one Einar Mogens Wegener, who would later call herself Lili Elbe, were removed. It was the first of five operations that were carried out on her over a period of two years. The first surgery, removal of the testicles, was made under the supervision of sexologist Magnus Hirschfeld in Berlin. Dr. Kurt Warnekros in the Dresden Municipal Women’s Clinic carried out the rest of Elbe’s surgeries. Warnekros’s partner, Dr. Walter Neumann, wielded the scalpel.
The second operation was to remove the penis, and transplant ovaries, which were taken from a 26-year-old woman. These were soon removed in a third and fourth operation due to rejection and other serious complications. The fifth operation was to transplant a uterus, which was intended to allow Elbe, then nearing the age of 50, to become a mother. She soon after died of transplant rejection.
After listening to Pete's recitation, Myka was uncommonly silent.
"What are you thinking?" Pete asked after a while.
"I was thinking, a story like that really does sound like an 'artifact' story."
"So if the scalpel really is an artifact, what do you think it does?"
Myka swerved around a little Japanese Suzuki four-by-four that was changing into the outer lane of Dupont Circle. In the rear window, Myka could see the small blonde woman driving the little car, waving an apologetic hand through her window. Myka rolled down hers and waved back through her own window in polite acknowledgement.
"What it does?" she asked after getting back to her lane. "Well, it could be almost anything. Maybe it kills doctors as some sort of revenge for that woman's death."
"But Myka," Pete said, " it's the patients that are missing, not the doctors. And what makes you think they died?"
"If they didn't, then where are they? Pete, you're right, but most of the artifacts we've encountered in the past seem to cause death, or something equally bad. Artie says most artifacts get their power from strong negative energy, so it's natural to assume that."
"You're right." Pete nodded.
They traded some more ideas back and forth, but pretty soon, they were pulling up to the gate of the Secret Service recruitment bureau, and they hadn't thought up any new theories. They flashed their IDs and the guard swung the wrought-iron gate back. Myka drove in and parked in the visitors' parking area.
After a while, they met with the duty officer and made security arrangements for the interviewees.
Despite being in the Secret Service for a while now, and being assigned to DC during their last Secret Service postings before Warehouse 13, they didn't see any people they recognized. No wonder, since this was just the recruitment office. They would hardly know anyone here. And they were subtly glad for that - it saved them from having to dodge questions about their current assignment.
After a while, they were done. That's one thing neither of them missed - all the government red tape - and left the building at about nine.
They made their way to this nice hotel a block away from Dupont Circle Leena had booked them in, and after passing Dupont, Myka saw the same little Japanese four-by-four parked at the curb. Two women were getting into the car, one was the same blonde she saw earlier and the other was a pretty oriental girl, Japanese maybe. Her agent's eye saw that the blonde's hair wasn't real, judging by the dark roots that were showing. They were both in pretty nice evening clothes. Maybe they were on a date or something. Dupont was a well-known LGBT neighborhood after all. Myka sighed, recalling how long it's been since she last dressed up for a date.
She tooted her horn pleasantly and waved. The two girls looked, but neither recognized them. Myka shrugged (just as well) and drove on.