Dany checks one of the cardboard cartons stacked around the room. He just open the lid with a small pen-knife, and empties eight cartons of American cigarettes, Camels, onto the floor.<br/><br/>Grabbing a wooden spoon from near the stove he lays the empty box near the strange glass conch. Using the spoon he pushes the conch into the box, then folds the lids shut, interleaving the cardboard tops.<br/><br/>"I'm sure we all have many questions." Dany points to the smuggler in pants. "Gordon, could your check him - ah, her, for truck keys? I've had an idea."<br/><br/>"We should search for any remaining X-tech. But then we can load these two into that Opel downstairs. Maybe this change is temporary. Maybe they have an antidote. But for now we should treat it like a medical emergency."<br/><br/>"Wallace, if you're up to it, could you find something like their tea or flour jar, and scoop what remains of that broken object? There may be residual radiation of some kind. And it may give us some clues to reversing the process."<br/><br/>Judging by the labels on the boxes, most of the stacked goods are American cigarettes, American liquor, and those stockings you've seen everywhere.<br/><br/>Near the table there is a fancy black leather bag, about the size of a doctor's bag. The latch is tarnished silver, and engraved with the twin lightning bolts of the SS with a skull at the top and a flask at the bottom. You've all been briefed on that crest, it belonged to Himmler's X-Tech group, SS Spezielle Projekte Abteilung.<br/><br/>The SS-SPA vanished at the end of the war, leaving their labs in ruin. As each facility was captured it was found often booby-trapped but desolate. Of course many were captured, eventually, but the ghost of the Spezielle Projekte Abteilung continues to haunt the Reserve Police Agency.