Let’s Dance

by Frances Fyfield

on Tour March 3-31, 2013

He had a torch, ever well-equipped, lay on the ground and pulled himself under the car without a word of protest. She could hear his breathing, a grunt that turned to humming as the light played. The humming stilled her conscience that he should be so willing, but she was still pleased when he emerged, stood and dusted himself off. George never seemed to feel the cold and nothing was ever too much trouble.

“Nothing,” he said. She doubted if he knew anything more about cars than she did, but allowed herself to be reassured.

She moved within three feet of him, never going closer. The sky was clear as water, dark while luminous. They pivoted together, noticed of one accord. A flickering light from the house half a mile away, nothing more than an unnatural glow.

“George,” said Janice, querulously, “what’s that?”

“She’s on fire,” George said, almost admiringly. “That silly old love is on fire.”

O’Clair got up, put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, glanced at Virginia’s cute face and naked shoulder sticking out from under the cover, and went outside. It was seven twenty-five, big orange sun coming up over the ocean, clear sky; looked like another perfect day. O’Clair had moved to Florida from Detroit three months earlier, bought an eighteen-unit motel on the beach called Pirate’s Cove; it had a friendly pirate on the sign surrounded by neon lights.

The Motel was at the corner of Briny Avenue and SE Fifth Street in Pompano Beach. Four-story condo to the north and public beach access immediately south, and next to that, a massive empty lot that a developer was going to build a twenty-five-story apartment building on.

The idea of living through two years of heavy construction had O’Clair concerned, but what could he do about it?

He’d brought a paper grocery bag with ihm and walked around the pool, picking up empties, a dozen or so lite beer cans left by a group of kids from Boston University who’d been staying at the motel the past three days. There were nine of them, three girls and six guys. They’d caravanned down from snowy Massachusetts a week after Christmas.

He fished a few more beer cans out of the pool with the skimmer, picked up cigarette butts that had been stamped out on the concrete patio and threw them in the bag with the empties. O’Clair straightened the lounge chairs in even rows, adjusted the back rests so they were all at the same angle, and noticed one of the chairs was missing. He scanned the pool area, didn’t see it, glanced over the short brick wall that separated the motel from the beach and there it was, twenty yards from where he was standing.

O’Clair kicked off his sandals, opened the gate and walked down three steps to the beach. As he got closer, he could see a girl asleep, stretched out on the lounge chair, one leg straight, the other slightly bent at the knee, arms at her sides. She was a knockout, long blonde hair, thin and stacked, wearing a white T-shirt and denim capris, early twenties. He didn’t recognize her, but figure she was with the group from Boston. She looked so peaceful he didn’t want to wake her. “You should go to your room,” O’Clair said, looking down at her.

The girl didn’t respond. He touched her shoulder, shook her gently. Either she was a heavy sleeper or something was wrong. He touched her neck, felt for a pulse, there wasn’t one. Her skin was cold, body starting to stiffen, definitely in the early stages of rigor. He looked at the sand around the lounge chair, surprised it was smooth, no footprints. Glanced toward the water at the joggers and walkers moving by. O’Clair went back up to the patio, wiped the sand off his feet, and slipped his sandals on.

Virginia was standing behind the registration counter, yawning, eyes not quite open all the way, holding a mug of coffee.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“There’s a dead girl on the beach.” O’Clair said, picking up the phone and dialing 911.

Virginia’s face went from a half smile, thinking he was kidding, to deadpan, seeing he wasn’t. “What happened?”

The cruiser was white with gold and green stripes that ran along the side, light bar flashing. O’Clair watched it pull up in front, taking up three parking spaces. Two young-looking cops in tan uniforms got out and squared the caps on their heads. O’Clair went outside, met them and introduced himself.

“You the one found the body?” Officer Diaz, the dark-skinned cop said.

O’Clair nodded.

“You know her?” Diaz pulled the brim lower over his eyes to block the morning sun, the top of a crisp white T-shirt visible under the uniform.

“At first I thought she was with the group from BU. Now I don’t think so.”

“What’s BU?” the big, pale one, Officer Bush said, showing his weightlifter’s arms, uniform shirt bulging over his gut.

“Boston University. Nine kids staying with us, units seventeen and eighteen.” O’Clair didn’t know the sleeping arrangements and didn’t care. They were paying $720 a night for two rooms, staying for five days.

An EMS van pulled up and parked facing the police cruiser. Two paramedics got out, opened the rear door, slid the gurney out, and O’Clair led them through the breezeway, past the pool, to the beach. The paramedics set the gurney next to the lounge chair, examined the girl and pronounced her dead.

Officer Bush said, “What time did you find her?”

“Around twenty to eight.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I looked at my watch,” O’Clair said, like it was a big mystery.

Diaz grinned, showing straight white teeth, reminding O’Clair of Erik Estrada, his tan polyester uniform glinting in the morning sun. “Did you touch the body?”

“Her neck, felt for a pulse.” O’Clair saw Virginia wander down, standing at the seawall with her cup of coffee, watching them. Officer Bush went back to the cruiser and got stakes and tape, then set up a perimeter around the dead girl, protecting the crime scene. The paramedics picked up the gurney and left, leaving the body for the evidence tech.

Diaz took a spiral-bound notebook out of his shirt pocket, wrote something and looked up at O’Clair. “Ever see her before? Maybe lying in the sun, walking the beach?”

“I don’t think so,” O’Clair said. “Someone like that I would remember.”

Diaz said, “You see anyone else?”

“College kids out by the pool.” He almost said drinking beer, but caught himself, he doubted they were twenty-one and didn’t want to get them in trouble.

“What time was that?”

“Around eleven o’clock.”

“Then what happened?

“I went to bed.”

Diaz said, “Anything else you remember? Any noises?”

“No.”

The evidence tech arrived carrying a tool box, set it on the sand a few feet from the lounge chair, opened it, took out a camera, and shot the crime scene from various angles. Diaz searched the surrounding area for evidence and Bush questioned the morning joggers and walkers wandering up toward the scene. O’Clair watched from the patio, learning against the seawall. Virginia had gone back to the office.

A guy in a tan, lightweight suit walked by O’Clair and went down the steps to the beach. He had to be with homicide. The evidence tech, wearing white rubber gloves, was swabbing the dead girl’s fingernails. He glanced at the guy in the suit.

“What do you got?”

“Fatal.”

“I figured that unless you were doing her nails.”

“Not much here,” the evidence tech said, “couple hairs, maybe a latent, and something you’re not going to believe.” He whispered something to the suit that O’Clair couldn’t hear.

“Jesus, I’ve seen a lot, but I haven’t seen that.” The homicide investigator shook his head. “Where’s the blood?”

“That’s what I want to know.”

“How’d she die?”

“You want a guess? That’s about all I can give you right now. She was asphyxiated, been gone about four hours.”

“Who found her?”

The evidence tech turned and pointed at O’Clair above them on the patio. The detective came up the steps and stood facing him.

“I’m Holland, Pompano Beach Homicide.” He has a goatee and a crooked nose, early thirties. “What’s your name, sir?”

“O’Clair.”

“I understand you found her.”

“That’s right.”

“You down here for a vacation, or what?”

“I own the place, bought it three months ago.”

“Where you from, Cleveland, Buffalo, someplace like that?”

“Detroit,” O’Clair said.

“Even worse,” Holland said, breaking into a grin. Just kidding. I got nothing against the Motor City.”

“Well that’s a relief,” O’Clair said.

Holland wore his shield on his belt and a holstered Glock on his right hip.

“You married?”

“Living with a girl named Virgnia, helps me run the place.”

“The hot number in the office?”

O’Clair fixed a hard stare on him.

“How’d you arrange that?”

“I must have some hidden talents.”

“You must,” Holland said. “Tell me what you saw this morning.”

“Same thing you did—dead girl on a lounge chair,” O’Clair said. “Know who she is?”

“No ID. No idea. Have to check with missing persons. Was the chair left on the beach?”

“It shouldn’t have been. The lounge chairs are supposed to be kept in the pool enclosure. It’s one of our rules here at Pirate’s Cove.”

“Your guests break the rules very often?”

“Oh, you know how it is. Get in the Jacuzzi with a beer, without taking a shower, and you’ve broken two right there.” O’Clair paused, playing it straight. “The rules are from the previous owner, guy named Moran. I keep them posted ‘cause I think they’re funny. Someone sat down and wrote them in all seriousness.”

“What do you think happened? This girl was walking by and got tired, saw your place, went up, got a lounge chair, brought it to the beach, lay down, and died in her sleep?”

“I’d ask the medical examiner.”

The evidence tech was taking off the rubber gloves, closing the top of the tool box.

Holland said, “What else did you see?”

“You’re asking the wrong question,” O’Clair said. “It’s not what I saw, it’s what I didn’t see.”

“Okay. What didn’t you see?”

“There were no footprints in the sand. Like she was beamed there.”

“So the wind erased them,” Holland said.

“You really believe that?”

“It’s the only plausible explanation I can think of.”

“What else didn’t you see?”

“No obvious cause of death. No evidence of a struggle. In fact, no evidence at all.” O’Clair looked at Holland, caught something in his expression.

“You sound like you know the trade,” Holland said.

“What’s you do before you became an innkeeper?”

“Worked in homicide in Detroit.”

Holland grinned. “I had a feeling. Then you must’ve seen her eyes were missing right? Bulbs removed, empty sockets.”

“But no blood,” O’Clair said. “So it was done somewhere else. Find the primary crime scene, you’ll find the evidence.”

“You weren’t going to say anything?”

“It’s not my case,” O’Clair said. “I figured somebody was going to notice sooner or later, it wasn’t you or the evidence tech it would’ve been the ME.”

“Why do you think the girl ended up here?”

“I have no idea. Why don’t you roll her over, maybe you’ll find something.”

Occasionally there was a crucial piece of evidence under the body, a lead. IT could be a round that would be tested for ballistics comparison against other homicides. It could be money or drugs, suggesting a possible motive, or it could be a cell phone that would lead to the possible killer or killers.

But there was nothing under the dead girl. No ID. No cell phone. Her body was bagged and the remains taken to the Broward County Medical Examiner’s Office. They took O’Clair’s lounge chair too.

“It’s evidence,” Holland said. “You’ll get it back eventually.”

O’Clair doubted it. He knew what happened to evidence.

Bush and Diaz went upstairs, woke the BU students and brought them down to the pool, nine kids looking hung over, yawning. Eight twenty in the morning was the middle of the night for them. O’Clair had noticed they usually didn’t get up till after noon. Holland questioned them one by one, showed photos of the dead girl, took statements, and sent them back to their rooms. No one knew or had ever seen the girl before. No one had seen anything suspicious or heard anything during the night.

The MacGuidwins from Mt. Pearl, Newfoundland in unit two, who had complained about the students making too much noise, were questioned next by Holland. O’Clair watched the fair-skinned, red-haired couple shaking their heads.

As it got hotter, Holland commandeered unit seven for his makeshift interrogation room and brought the other renters in two-by-two for questioning. There were the Burnses, Susan and Randy, from Troy, Michigan; the Mitchells, Joe and Jean, from San Antonio, Texas; the Belmonts, John and Shannon, from Chicago, Illinois; and the Mayers, Steve and Julie, from Syracuse, New York. Steve Mayer woke up with four-alarm heartburn at three-thirty a.m., got up, took a Nexium, walked out by the pool and remembered seeing the lounge chair on the beach, but didn’t think anything of it. None of the other renters saw or heard anything.

O’Clair walked Holland out to his car at eleven twenty, glad to finally get rid of him.

“Miss the life?” Holland said.

“Are you kidding?”

“Some things about it I’ll bet.” He handed O’Clair a card. “Call me if you think of something.”

  Chapter 22

Since Always…

“Hank, this is what I want you to do.”  Captain Stein stepped closer and looked Hank squarely in the eyes with a very serious look, as if to say, this is damn important to me, so listen carefully and do what I tell you to do.  He had Hank’s attention anyway with everything he revealed without Hank making any effort to find out for himself.  All this information was just ‘falling into his lap’.

“Yes, sir.  What can I do?”  Hank was anxious to know what Stein had in mind for him to do.

“I want you to meet with the girl, Roberta.  Get to know her first; don’t get in too much of a hurry.  We don’t want to spook her into keeping her mouth shut.  Use your friendship with Max to get her confidence; she’ll want to know everything about him.  Use that to find out what you can about how much she knew or Max knew about what Schoellkopf was doing.  Find out who he was talking with and meeting with.  They should know who was coming to the house.   She probably knows what they did with the records from his office.  We need everything, every scrap.  Get any clue you might be able to schmooze out of her that could help us find the bastards who are still on the loose out there.”

Hank was dumbfounded—speechless—couldn’t contain his angst.  He felt the heat rising on his skin and knew he was turning a bright red.  He felt like he had unexpectedly been caught in a devious plot—couldn’t run forward or backward—couldn’t do anything to get out of the plight thrust upon him.

“What’s the matter, Hank, you look like you just saw a ghost?”

“Ah, ahhh, nothing, sir.  Ah…I…ah, just never imagined I would be doing this kind of thing.  You caught me off guard.  All I ever wanted was to be a farmer.  I never in a million years thought I would be chasing criminals in Germany.  I don’t know the first thing about this kind of work.”

“You’ll do fine, Hank.  I saw how you befriended Max and that makes you uniquely prepared to meet with his sister; his twin sister no less.  You’re just looking for information.  Get to know her; gain her trust.  You are a good man, Hank, just be yourself.  At any rate, none of us chose to be where we are now, but we have to do what we have to do, and this is what our country wants us to do right now.  I know how much you love America, and I know you’ll get this job done for all of us.  Now, pull yourself together, man, and get to work.  Go see her right now.”

Hank silently chaffed at the sound of being called a “good man”, which he certainly wasn’t feeling at the moment.  He was trapped in his own plot, thinking, Why in the hell did I ever agree to meet with Oliver and Max.  Now look at the fix I’m in.  I should have let well enough alone and never seen them again.  Gain her trust?  What about Max’s trust?   Hank felt dirty and didn’t see his way out of his mess, so he did the only thing he could think to do in the moment.

“Ok, if that’s what you think I should do, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“Those are my orders, Corporal.”

“Yes, sir.”

The ride out to the Displaced Persons Camp, the DPC, wasn’t nearly as long as Hank would have liked.  He needed time to think, but within minutes, the Army Jeep pulled up in front of the impoundment surrounded by a tall wire fence with barbed wire strung along the top.  He showed his identification papers and they drove into the compound.  Max had a sick feeling in his stomach and his hope that something would happen to keep his meeting with Roberta from happening was fading fast.  He had no alternative but to see his job through.  He felt like he was losing his integrity—felt ashamed.

The detained SS Officers and those related to them were being held apart from the displaced persons, the officers in one row of former Army barracks and the women and children in separate barracks, divided by another wire fence.  His meeting with Roberta had been arranged in a small building nearby that was formerly used as an office for the commander of the former German Army facility.

The guard escorted Hank into the building where Roberta was waiting in a small interrogation room in the rear.

“I’ll lock the door behind you.  Knock when you are finished.”  The guard instructed as Max entered the room.

Roberta sat on a straight backed wooden chair at a small table in the center of the room. The late morning sun streaked through the barred window at the rear casting its golden glow across the floor and onto the black prison gown she wore, forming the image of the bars from the window.  It struck Hank as a very sad scene.  He saw Roberta as a victim caught up in an evil situation.  Hank was more excited than he even imagined he would be—his breathing elevated and everything around him seemed to disappear except the vision of Roberta seated with her head down, eyes fixed blankly on the table.  He was still uncertain how he would begin, and awkwardly pulled his chair out and sat down without speaking, quietly looking at her as she sat still with her head hanging down—sadly, he thought.  The sight of her and the sadness evoked a flow of empathy in him.  He decided to sit quietly without speaking and wait for her.

Roberta didn’t move.  Hank was struck by how small she was, much smaller than Max, but with the same dark brown hair, almost black.  Her skin was silky smooth and her hands were so tiny and looked so innocent.  Hank realized he hadn’t looked at a woman seriously, really looked at a woman since he left Wisconsin.  It had been four months.  He was enjoying their silence.

After what seemed to Hank a very long time, Roberta slowly raised her head, revealing the dampness of tears on her cheeks; she had been crying for a very long time.  Then she raised her sad silver-blue-green eyes to meet his.  He was startled at how beautiful she was and her look seemed to penetrate right through him as if she could see all the way to his heart.  He was momentarily mesmerized; the golden glow of the sun seemed to shimmer, and his heart beat faster—he had not expected this.  It took a few moments before he realized they had not spoken.  He felt awkward.

“Hello, my name is Hank.”

“Do you know who I am?” She quietly intoned just those few words, but they were music in his ears, like the wind blowing gently through the pines atop the bluffs at home.  They beckoned him, made him feel warm.

“Yes, Roberta.”

“Then you know why I am here?’

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you going to help me?”

“Well, I don’t know?”  Hank was taken aback.  He didn’t expect her to ask for his help, but deep inside he knew that’s what he wanted to do.   It was his natural instinct to help.  He had no idea what she had been told of his visit.  “What do you think I can help you with?”

“They broke into my home and took me away.  I have not done anything wrong.  I am innocent.  I had no idea what my father was doing in the SS.  I only know that he is a very generous and kind man who is fair and just.  Why have you imprisoned me?”  Roberta spoke pitifully from her broken heart.  It was obvious she was suffering greatly in her circumstances.  “Are you here to interrogate me too?  Like the others?  Do you want to force me to say things that are not true?  Should I tell you lies so you will leave me alone?  They told me my father is dead, that he killed himself that he didn’t really care about me.  How could they be so cruel?  Why?  Why?  Why?”  Roberta began sobbing uncontrollably, and Hank felt the full emotional burden of her pain, reacting how he would to any person in need; he reached his arm around her shoulders and comforted her.

“It’s OK.  It’s OK.  I understand.  Go ahead and cry.  I don’t mind.  There, there.”  Hank was drawn to her as if by a spiritual force, not a magical or religious experience, but a feeling he understood her and felt her pain intensely.

It was several minutes before Roberta could compose herself.  Hank withdrew his arm somewhat reluctantly.  She felt really good to him.

“No, Roberta, I am not here to interrogate you.  I’m not going to badger you, threaten you, or abuse you in any way.  I am very sorry about your father.  I’m sure he was a very good man and he loved you very much.  I need to get to know you better so I can understand how I can help you.  There is nothing I would like better than for you to be able to get out of here and go home.  This war has been miserable for all of us.”

“Home?  Home?  I have no home.  My home in Munich was given to the Nazi’s.  The British have taken my home here in Hamburg.  My mother is dead, now they tell me my father is dead, and my brother was taken prisoner by you Americans and I don’t know if he is alive or dead!  I have nothing, nothing, and no one!”

Hank was startled.  It was enough that Roberta began sobbing again, but he was surprised to learn she had not accepted that her father was dead, and she didn’t know about Max either.  Hank felt an incredible sadness for her, but he thought better of telling her that Max was alive and he knew where Max was, and that Max was looking for her.  These were things he could use at the right time to get Roberta to cooperate and maybe even to forge a friendship.  He would need time to decide how to proceed, and just when to tell her these things.  He needed to get out of there for the time being and come back prepared the next day.  At that moment his head and his heart were at odds with each other.  He needed time to get his emotions sorted out, and didn’t know for sure what he wanted for himself.  The words his father spoke to him the last night they were together rang in his ears… sometimes your special moments will grab you unexpectedly.  No matter how they come, you have to be ready.  Hank wondered if this was such a moment.  His heart seemed to be immersed in ecstasy, but his head was pulling him back—trying to discern the wisdom of his father’s words.  The moment and its illumination necessarily had to pass, but the conviction it etched in his heart would remain forever.

Hank knew Captain Stein would be anxious to hear how his meeting went, so he was prepared with a very positive report, telling the Captain that it went very well; he had established a great rapport and formed the beginning of a friendship that surely would yield good results.  It would just take more time.  He didn’t want to push too hard.  Stein thought that was great, just what he had thought would be the best approach himself.  He knew it would take a little time.

Sleep never really came for Hank that night.  Every time he dozed off he saw Roberta looking at him with those big beautiful eyes, hair flowing in the breeze and a smile on her lips that melted his heart.  He tossed and turned, dozed off again, and was awakened time and again by his vision of Roberta.  His visions were interrupted with his confusion about what or when to talk with Roberta about her father and Max—then, of course, there was Max, and Oliver, who were anxious to hear from him about Roberta the next evening.  Hank was in a mess.

Toward the early morning, he gave up trying to sleep.  He lay in his bunk wrestling his anxiety about how he would approach Roberta to get information that would satisfy Stein.  He was in a quandary over forces pulling him in opposing directions.  He didn’t believe Roberta was guilty of doing anything to support the Nazi’s and he didn’t think she knew anything about what her father was doing, but he was under pressure to come up with clues.  The opposing force was more compelling— he thought he might be in love for the very first time.  Whatever he chose to do, he would follow his heart.

The first thing the next morning, he left for the prison camp, arriving early.  He asked for Roberta to be summoned and sat nervously at the table for what seemed a very long time.  His heart leaped when he heard footsteps on the wooden floor and rose to face the door, not sure if she would be happy to see him again, but hoping she would.  She stood just inside the door with her head tilted toward the floor until the guard closed the door behind her and slid the lock in place with a heavy clunk.

When she raised her head Hank captured the image he would remember all his life.  Roberta’s eyes sparkled in a way he had never seen eyes sparkle, the smile on her lips stretched wide, she lighted up the room like sunshine, and she vanquished any reservation that remained.  She really was happy to see him!  And, she was so beautiful.  He was in love.  He had the sensation of having no weight, all the concerns of his life evaporated, nothing else mattered.

His first impulse was to rush toward her, wrap her in his arms and caress her, but he hesitated, thinking it may not be what he hoped.  At that first movement, Roberta leaped forward into his arms.  He felt the brush of her hair and the exquisite softness of her cheek on his as her arms stretched up to squeeze his neck and he leaned to fold her into his arms.   The warmth of her body pressed firmly against him brought a surge of emotion he didn’t know could be so strong.  He longed to kiss her lips, but held her tightly, her head pressed against his neck and shoulder, and felt her body gently throbbing as her warm tears of joy wet his neck and cheek.  It had been so long since he felt such intimacy.

“Roberta, you feel the same way I do don’t you?
“Oh, Hank, It has been so long since anyone cared how I feel; so long since I have felt anyone so sensitive, who cared about me.  I thought I would never feel this way about anyone!  I feel like we have known each other a very long time, well, since forever.”

“I feel the same way!”  Hank was giddy, as excited as a young high school boy at his first prom with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.  Then he realized there was something he had to tell her that he must say right away.

“Roberta, I have good news for you?”

Roberta stood back and looked up at Hank with a look Hank understood.  She wanted good news, she was desperate for good news.  She couldn’t speak, her expression said, tell me…tell me, now!

“Max is alive!”

Hank caught Roberta as her legs buckled under her, falling into his arms as she wept with joy.  Once again she was comforted in his arms.  Hank felt good.  He was able to make her happy.

She quickly composed herself.  “Where is he?”  Is he here, in Germany?  Has he been wounded?  Is he well?”

“Whoa, whoa, little one.  Yes, he is here in Hamburg and he is perfectly fine.  He was captured by our American troops in France and has been in a prison camp in America, but now he is here in Hamburg, safe and sound.”

“Here in Hamburg?!  When can I see him? Can he come here?”

“Those are good questions, but the answers are not easy.  Of course, he cannot come here to see you, or he would be arrested just like you.  And, of course, you cannot go to see him.  But I have an idea that may have to suffice as the best we can do for now.”

“What is it?  Tell me!”

“I will continue to meet with you as we have been meeting.  I can carry messages for both of you, but they will have to be verbal only.  I don’t want to risk anything written.  I know you want to see him and hold him, but we cannot do that now.  But, I have an idea.  I will arrange for Max to come near here at a distance and you can see each other across the field.  Look out that window.  You see there is a woods there?  I will have Max come to the woods so you can see him and he can see you.  I know it isn’t what you would like, but for now it may be the best I can do.”

“Anything, anything.  I’m so happy to know he is alive.  Thank you, thank you, my darling!”

Her words startled him.  My darling, he pondered the thought.  He had never heard those words from anyone but his mother.  They felt good, really good, and he was delighted to see her happy.

 

 

 

Chapter 23

…and Forever

There was little rest for Hank again that night.  His heart and his mind were being pulled in different directions.  He had made commitments to Max and Oliver, then to Captain Stein, and now to Roberta.  He had always been trusted by everyone, a pillar of integrity.  Now, he would surely destroy that reputation.  As he tossed and turned, and scolded himself for getting himself into such a quandary, his thoughts kept going back to Roberta, warm thoughts full of wonder and excitement.  But, as the night progressed, doubts began to creep into his head.

Hank couldn’t deny how he felt; he felt fantastic, incredible.  He had met the girl of his dreams—love at first sight.  He couldn’t wait to see her again.  She was everything he had always imagined she would be, everything he hoped for in a woman.  Yet, he began to wonder, is this real?  Could it be possible for two people to be in love when they’ve only known each other for two days?  Was he being foolish?  Had the events of the past five months and his absence from the comforts of home made him vulnerable in a dangerous way?  A frightful pang of fear shot through his gut as he thought: Is she just using me? Does she see me as her way out of confinement? Am I being fooled by her? Maybe she doesn’t care about me at all; she only needs me to get what she really wants.  Why should I trust her?  I don’t really know her.  Oh, what a fool I must be to fall for the first beautiful woman who shows an interest in me, who caresses me.  Am I that vulnerable?  Am I that foolish?

Thoughts of Roberta dazzled and confused him; nothing in his young life had ever left him so unsure of himself.  No amount of concentration overcame the cascade of emotions flooding his chest.  He tossed and turned long into the night, soaked his pillow through with his sweat, though he wasn’t warm, and felt his pulse exploding his temples; alternating between visions of pure, romantic love and sheer foolishness.  The pull on his heart skidded back and forth like a tug of war.  That is…until he recalled his mother’s words, spoken on his eighteenth birthday, just after a high school sweetheart informed him that another man had won her heart.

Hank, you are such a precious son.  I adore you.  I am sad when you are sad, but you must know this pain you feel will pass.  Sometimes love is fleeting, it may disappear as quickly as it appears.  You have your whole life ahead of you.  I know you will meet the woman who will love you completely, and for your lifetime.  I have no doubt.  Love between a man and a woman cannot be easily defined; love comes in many forms and is never the same for everyone.  Almost always love charges into your life like a cosmic experience, even magical, it is so difficult to predict or understand.  Sometimes that special feeling in your heart really is true love—sometimes not.  When love comes suddenly, we can be swept off our feet.  It’s a dazzling experience that confuses us.  That’s often called love at first sight, but it’s never really love at first sight.  If it happens to you, don’t take it for granted, it’s very special and you won’t want to lose it.  It’s one of the best feelings you will ever have, and I believe the best beginning for true love.

Don’t be deceived, true love has to be built; it takes a lot of hard work and may take a very long time.  When two people stop working on their love, it fades, no matter if it’s the first month, the first year, the tenth or the twenty-fifth.  There will always be difficulties and complications, that’s how life is, not just marriage.  Use those difficulties to work on making your marriage stronger.  Don’t expect not to have challenges, welcome them and be ready to take them on together.  Everything really worthwhile in your life will require hard work.  Your marriage is the one very most worthwhile jewel you will ever have.

Laying silently in the darkness, eyes wide open, thinking warm thoughts of his mother, a smile came across his face.  Of course, he thought, mother is right.  I have to work on it.  Tomorrow I’ll have to find out if Roberta truly feels the same way about me.  Sleep finally came.

He should have been exhausted the next morning, with little sleep and tormented the whole night through with all his mixed emotions, but his adrenalin had taken over.  Hank needed to get things resolved, and though he wasn’t sure how to do that, he needed to attack his demons head on.  By the time he met with Oliver and Max in the evening he wanted to have his life back on track.  Since he was drafted there had not been a dull day in Hank’s life.  He never knew quite what to expect, and that day would be no different.  It would begin with his report to Captain Stein.

Hank was surprised to see the Captain waiting for him.  Stein motioned Hank to his office as soon as Hank appeared in the doorway.  Hank’s curiosity was aroused.

“Hank, we have to release everyone except the SS Officers.  The staff and family are being released as soon as possible.   We’ll have 30 days to hold the officers and unless we can get enough evidence they participated in war crimes we’ll have to release them too!  Something about the Geneva Convention says we can’t hold them unless we have sufficient evidence to take them to trial.  It’s foolish as far as I’m concerned.  What kind of fair trial did the millions of dead Jews get?”

Hank was stunned again.  His first emotion was that he was losing Roberta, but his first thought was that might be best.  He had to set his feelings aside and listen to Stein without revealing his feelings.

“I’m sorry, sir.  I know how important this is to you.  It really would be a shame if guilty men went free.”

“Ya, well, there’s nothing we can do about it but work our butts off to get the evidence we need to hold the bastards.  That’s our job, and by God, we’re going to make sure every last one of them hangs for what they’ve done.  Did you get anything out of the girl?”

“I thought I was really close…I mean…I think she was beginning to trust me.  I needed more time; maybe a few more days, but I’m not sure she knew anything.”

“Come on, Corporal, of course she knows things.  I’ll bet she knows plenty.  We’re losing a good opportunity by letting them all go.  It makes our job harder.”

“What will we do now?”

“We’ll get busy interrogating the officers.  The British have been at it for weeks.  They have files on all of them.  The Russians are sending men to help too, and we’re getting some young Army lawyers by next week.  Today, you and I are going out there to go through files.  We’ll make a list of the ones that look like they were in charge, in some position of leadership, the higher the better, then we’ll start meeting with them.  I want to get the top guys.”

Hank didn’t know what to think.  His emotions all melted together in a jumble of confusion.  All he could do was follow orders for the moment, until he could sort through all the feelings bombarding him.

Within a few minutes he and Stein were on their way to the compound, where they came upon a blur of activity.  Those who were being released were jubilant as groups of them gathered in the streets to celebrate.  There was pitched cheering, yet, others pushed against the fence separating them from officers, loved ones and former employers who they would be leaving behind.  There was sadness and tears, as well as questions about what may lay ahead for each of them, the uncertainty for those who were released to communities that may not still exist, and for those who remained in custody, facing the possibility of imprisonment or death.

As Stein and Hank walked into the officer’s compound, Hank did his best to keep Stein from seeing him looking among those being released through the fence.  In spite of his doubts, his heart told him he was in love and he was growing desperate about losing Roberta so soon, thinking she could be gone forever, and wishing he could know for sure if what they had begun was truly love, or whether he was just a fool.  They were moving too quickly for him to see clearly.  He couldn’t find her.  They were up the steps and into the meeting hall, leaving behind any chance he might see her again.  He was numb, unaware of anything going on around him.

“Hank, Hank, come on, get moving.  Pay attention!”  Stein gave him a nudge toward the stairway leading to a room above, where they spent the rest of the morning poring through files, assessing information that had been gathered by the British, looking for clues to help them decide which officers they would interrogate first.  Stacks of files were set aside, awaiting the lawyer’s arrival.  Hank couldn’t focus his attention; all he could think about was that he may be losing the one person who was right for him, the one he would commit his life to.  Convicting German criminals wasn’t important to him at that moment.

By noon Stein was satisfied they had enough files to get started.  They were loaded in the back of the truck and about to leave.

“Captain Stein, I’d like to see if I can find Roberta and make an appeal to her to give us the information you believe she has.  Once she is gone, it will be lost.  I think it’s worth a try.”

“If you think so, Hank.  There can’t be any harm in trying.  In fact, I like your attitude.  Go ahead, get what you can, and jump on another truck heading back later.  I’ll see you in the morning.  Good luck.”

Hank felt relieved that Stein went along with the idea, but he felt a tinge of guilt for taking advantage of Stein’s trust in him.

Trucks loaded with released detainees were rolling out the gate as Hank walked over to the camp.  He ran alongside each truck calling Roberta’s name but got no response.  Others were still loading near a barracks building to the rear.  He ran into the building asking each person he came to about Roberta until an older woman stopped him.

“Yes.  Roberta was here.  But she has gone.”

Hank’s world came to a sudden stop.  He just stood there as people pushed past him toward the trucks.  He lost her.  She was gone.  Maybe she didn’t love him after all.  Maybe she just didn’t need him anymore.  He really didn’t know what to think.  He only knew this was the worst day of his life.

As he walked back toward the gate past the office where he had met with Roberta, the guard who had brought Roberta to the meetings called out to him.

“Corporal!  Corporal Fischer!  Come quickly.  There is someone who wants to see you.”

Hank wouldn’t allow himself to believe it could be her.  He hurried into the building and found the front office area empty, but the door to the room in back was ajar.  He slowly opened the door and there sat Roberta.  She leaped from her chair and into his arms with a scream of delight.

“Oh, Hank, Hank!  I knew you would come for me.  I knew it in my heart!”

“They told me you had left.  I thought you were gone!”

“I couldn’t go.  Where would I go without you now that I have found you?  I love you, Hank, I love you!  I feel like I have loved you since always, and forever.”

Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her lips found his.  Her words washed away any doubt.  He had never known such elation.  He was in love.  It was real.  He was sure of it.

“I love you, Roberta.  I love you, too!”

 

Chapter 24

Dilemma

Hank was ready to spring into action.

“Roberta, I have to get back to headquarters, but here is what we must do.  Max will be in the woods at 1715 hours, just as we planned.”

Roberta couldn’t contain her excitement about finally seeing her brother.

“Oh my God!  Ohhhh, my God!  I’m going to see him!  I’m really going to see Max!”

“Listen carefully, Roberta, we have to be really careful about this.  All of the Allies have detachments assigned to find the people involved with the SS, so they’ll be looking for Max sooner or later, and maybe even now.  He’ll be taking a big risk coming near here, but the plan is already arranged and we can’t stop it now.  He will be in the woods at 1715, and you will have to be there to meet him.  He will be coming on a motorcycle, and there will be room for you in the sidecar with Max.  Just be sure you don’t get any nearer the camp or let anyone in the Occupation Force see you.  Get in the sidecar and get away from here as fast as you can; you can stop and embrace Max after you are far away from here.”

“But what about you, Hank?  When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know, my love, I don’t know right now.  I’ll have to figure that out.  I know where you will be with Max, so I’ll get there as soon as I can.  I have to take care of things here first.  Now go, get your bags together and walk to the woods while everyone is leaving so no one will notice you go, then hide there until you see the motorcycle.”

She reached up to hug Hank, holding him for a long, tender moment, as if she wasn’t sure she would see him again, and not wanting to accept that possibility.  She walked away without looking back, leery that she may lose him, but anxious to see Max, and not knowing what else to do but follow Hank’s instructions.

Hank caught the next truck back to headquarters and immediately went to Stein’s office, but didn’t find him there.

“Is Captain Stein about?”  He inquired of the orderly.

“He went to the camp.”

“Yes, I know, I went with him this morning, but he came back around noon.”

“Yes, he came back, but about half an hour ago he left for the camp again.  I don’t know what happened, but he was in a damn big hurry to get out of here.”

Hank wasn’t sure what to think about that, but he was worried.  He couldn’t imagine why Stein would turn around and go back so soon.  What was out there he needed to go back for so soon?  He was nervous about it, and sat at his desk and fidgeted through some files without really paying attention to what he was reading.  He couldn’t get it out of his mind that Stein was at the camp with Roberta.  His tension was becoming fierce.  About an hour later, Stein walked through the door…with Roberta following behind in the custody of two MP’s; she was crying.

Hank jumped to his feet, then slowly sank back trying not to look more alarmed than he should, not wanting to let Stein see the strength of his surprise and emotion.  Roberta glanced up to see Hank, but immediately lowered her face to the floor, not wanting to show her familiarity with him.

“Look who we have here, Hank—the pretty little Roberta has come to spend a little more time with us.”

“But, I thought we had to release all family members.”

“That’s what they said, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them, and I couldn’t let this one get away.  Her daddy was just too big in the SS to just let her walk away.  It bothered me all the way back, so I just turned around and went back for her; let them complain if they can figure out she wasn’t released.  By the time anyone knows she’s here, we’ll have what we want from her.  She’ll be our little secret, and in no time we’ll have her singing for us.  I’ll interrogate her right now while she’s frightened and upset—she may be vulnerable.  Then, I have a cozy little place set aside for her in the SS camp where she’ll be locked up until she decides to cooperate.”

The grin on Stein’s face made Hank sick to his stomach.  Didn’t anyone live by the rules anymore?  He thought to himself.  He felt the urge to kill Stein right on the spot; the strength of his anger surprised him, he didn’t know he could be so angry or think so violently.  He only knew he had to get Roberta away from Stein.

And Max!  He suddenly thought of Max who would be in the woods that evening looking for Roberta in the camp, across the field, but Roberta wouldn’t be there.  The camp holding the families would be empty.  What would Max think?  He would probable think Hank had deceived him.  He couldn’t get word to Max.  For the first time in Hank’s life, he had no idea what to do.  He just sank into his chair in despair, feeling like he was trapped in a complex web of lies and deceit.  Once again he wished he were back in the Baraboo Hills of Wisconsin where life was simple and good.  He thought, my mother wouldn’t like the mess I’ve made of things, not one bit!  I’ve got to figure out how to get myself out.

Hank walked the three miles out to the camp.  He had to meet Max to let him know what happened.  If Max found the camp empty he would surely think Hank tricked him.  All the while, as he walked, Hank’s thoughts were with Roberta being interrogated by Stein, and he grew angrier and angrier at Stein.

It was already 1730 by the time Hank walked into the woods.  At first he didn’t see Max and Robert hidden behind a thick stand of bushes, but they had seen him approaching.  Max called out when Hank came near.

“What’s going on here?  What kind of hoax is this?  It doesn’t look to me like anyone is even in that camp.”

“Calm down, Max, and let me explain.  I’m sorry.  I had everything set up, but my plan was upset.  The American Army lawyers decided they had to let all the families go unless they had sufficient evidence to hold them for crimes.  They were all released this morning.”

“Then where is Roberta?  Why isn’t she here with us?”

“I’m sorry, Max…”

“What?  Has something happened to her?  What happened, Hank?  What happened?!”

“She’s OK.  She’s not hurt.  It’s just that…well, Captain Stein is refusing to go along with the release order where Roberta is concerned.  She’s being held for interrogation.  Stein thinks she has information to help him find SS Officers he’s tracking down.”

“You mean he’s using her to get my father don’t you?”

“Well….no, Max, that’s not what I mean.  I, I…”

“You what?  What are you trying to say, Hank?”

“Max, your father is dead.”

“Dead?  When?  How?  Are you sure?  How do you know?”

“It’s official.  He’s on the list of deceased SS suspects at Headquarters.  I’m sorry, Max.”

Max bent over at the waist holding his face in his hands, staying still for a few seconds before going to one knee as if the wind had been knocked out of him.  He gasped, letting out several loud piercing cries that startled Hank, sounding like the awful squeals of death white-tailed deer made when they had been hit with his deadly bullets.

Momentarily regaining his composure, Max wanted information.  “How did it happen?  Do you know?  How did they kill him?”

“No one killed him, Max.  I’m sorry I’m the one who has to tell you this, but you deserve to know.  The end of the war was very chaotic.  Germany was losing huge numbers of men on both fronts, but most particularly on the Russian front.  Hitler was holed up in his bunker outside Berlin, but the Russians were closing in fast.  Hitler was not going to be taken alive.  He and his mistress, Eva Braun, planned to kill themselves with cyanide pills and they instructed all their staff to do the same rather than be taken alive and tortured by the Russians.  It’s unclear whether Hitler and Braun took the pills or if they shot themselves in the head; the details are still pretty murky, but they are both dead along with many of the top SS Officers.  Some of the Officers, like Heinrich Himmler, surrendered and are in custody waiting to be tried.  They will be convicted and shot, I am sure.”

“But my father was in Athens, Greece.”

“Yes, he was.  He was found there, in his office along with all of his senior staff.  They all took the cyanide when they heard Hitler was dead.”

Max wept as Hank and Richard moved away to give him time by himself.  Within a few minutes, Max had bravely composed himself, but exuded a determination Hank had not seen in him before.

“Roberta.  What about Roberta?  Where is she?”

“Stein has confined her in a special room among the Officers.  I haven’t been there to see exactly where she was taken, but the camp is heavily guarded, not like the camp where the families were detained.  If you are thinking of breaking her out, I think you would be foolish to try.”

“What about you, Hank?  Shouldn’t you be turning me in too?  What are you doing standing here telling me all this?  Aren’t you breaking your orders?”

“That’s right, Max, I’m in an incredibly awkward position here.  Sometimes the distinction between right and wrong gets really blurred.  A few months ago I thought morality and righteousness were crystal clear, but now I see how muddy the water can get.  I have compromised myself in more ways in the past few days than I ever thought I would in my entire life.  I’m not sure anymore what’s really important and what isn’t, and it’s even more complicated than you might suspect.”

“What is that supposed to mean?  It’s more complicated?”

“Well, as you know, I’ve met with Roberta the last couple days.  She is quite a woman, Roberta.”

The thought of Roberta stimulated Hank and he couldn’t keep a smile from forming on the corners of his lips though having just told Max about his father, he was trying his best to be stoic.

“I think we’re in love, Max.  Roberta and I are in love.”

Max didn’t say a thing, just stared dumbfounded at Hank, but after taking a moment to absorb the scene, Richard let out a laugh, causing Max to flash a stern look in his direction, shutting him up.

Max looked back at Hank.

“In love?  You’re in love with Roberta?  Just how do you think that can work, and in just two days?  Let me see here.  Oh yeah, you are an American, she is a German.  You’re assigned to track down SS Officers, and she’s the daughter of one of the highest ranking ones.  She’s, like in jail, and you are the jailer.  She’s about to go free and you are left behind in the American Army.  Now tell me, how do you think this is going to work for you?”

“What do you mean, she’s about to go free?”

“Like I said, she’s about to go free.  Our father is dead and she is all I have left in this world.  On the grave of my father, I swear to you, Roberta will not spend another night in her confinement.”

“You’re crazy, Max.  You’ll both be killed.  I understand how upset you are; I’d be just as upset if I just heard my father died, and I know it’s horrible that Roberta is being held.  You may not want to believe it, but I’m really upset about that too; even though it’s been only two days.  I love Roberta whether you want to believe it or not.  Now, let’s settle down here and think this through.”

“There’s nothing more to think about.  My mind is made up.  Now what are you going to do Hank?  Are you going to follow your heart or your orders?”

Hank felt like he was wrapped tightly in the middle of a huge spider web, and a deadly spider twice his size was coming for him.  He couldn’t move.  He felt doomed.  Maybe I deserve this.  Maybe this is what happens when you forget your values and compromise your integrity.  Maybe your guilt grows and grows until you can’t control it and it consumes you.  You finally see what you’ve done wrong, but it’s too late to do anything about it; there are too many things to deal with.

“Well, Hank?  What’s it going to be?  Are you with us or against us?  Are you in or out?”

Hank just shook his head slowly, disgusted that his actions had led to such a momentous decision point.  Visions of his home in Wisconsin flashed through his mind—his mother, father, sister, the farm, the hills, the lakes, fishing, hunting, and all the many things he loved and missed so much.  He was confused and conflicted.  His mind told him to do the right thing, but his heart ached.  He felt all that he had held most dear in his life passing away, while his heart yearned for Roberta, alone and locked up not more than two hundred yards away.  At that moment, his past seemed to slip painfully away, his present boiled, his future lay uncertain.  His world was closing in to suffocate him.

Moments passed fitfully as Hank contemplated his decision.

“I’m in…I’m in!   God help me, I’m in!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 25

Hold On, Berta

Once Hank committed himself to helping Max and Roberta he was fully engaged and wasn’t looking back.  In all probability he would never be able to go back to his former life, and he knew how much he was sacrificing.  Ironically, he again drew strength from his family in Wisconsin—a strong work ethic based on his German ancestry, and a determination to complete every task to the best of his ability.  “If you are going to do it, do the best job you can do and don’t give up until the job is done,” his father used to tell him.  His mind was clear, he accepted his predicament, and focused on his next challenge.  By the time the three of them returned to Richard’s place, Hank had a plan.

Oliver was livid when he heard that Roberta had been kept in custody when the others were released.  He never liked Stein and his expletive laced rant was replete with threats that he would personally kill Stein if he was given the chance.

Max heard all he wanted to hear from Oliver.

“Ok, Oliver, that’s enough!  Get over it.  We need to focus on the situation as it stands right now, and accomplish what we need.  We don’t want to further complicate matters with emotional outbursts or by taking actions that only get us deeper into trouble—calm down.”

Before Oliver could make his usual immature retort, Hank stepped up.

“I think I know how to get Roberta.”

Max was surprised. “Well, let’s hear it then.”

“Today, Stein came back to headquarters with Roberta and interrogated her there.  It’s a much more secure area and away from the SS Officers who I am sure will complain bitterly about her detainment.  I would guess those are the reasons he brought her there, and I’m willing to bet that’s what he will continue to do.  It also means he doesn’t have to go to the camp himself; he can stay in his comfortable surroundings.  Right now, Stein trusts me.  Until the lawyers arrive in a few days, it’s just the two of us and a couple clerks.

“I’ll volunteer to be the one to get Roberta from the camp tomorrow morning.  About half way back, the road goes through a heavily wooded area, just to the west of an old farmhouse that burned.  You can tell which one I mean.  It’s the only one near that area that has burned and the silo is still standing but its roof is gone.  Max, you drive the motorcycle out to the woods near that house and hide in the trees.  Go out early and find a way to get the bike out the back.  The area is full of back roads and paths used for farm wagons and animals.   This country is just like back home, there are old roads and trails going everywhere.  If you can find a way to get us out of  there without going back to the main road we can make our escape tomorrow; if not, we’ll have to come up with another plan.

“When we get to the farmhouse, I’ll have Roberta claim she has to relieve herself in a hurry—an emergency.  I’ll order the driver to stop so she can go behind the burned out barn.  I’ll stand watch in front of the barn.  Be sure you and the motorcycle are as close to the barn as you can get without being seen.  If the opportunity comes when the driver is not paying attention, Roberta and I will run to the woods where we will meet you.  On the motorcycle we can get back here well before they can catch us.  It will take the driver five or ten minutes to get back to headquarters and alert them.  He may not even care that we escape, everyone’s pretty upset that Stein held Roberta.  They don’t really want any part of it, but they’re afraid to say anything.”

Max was pensive, caught up in thinking through the plot, then his face broke out in a broad smile.

“Good, Hank.  I think it can work.  If I can’t find a route for our escape, then I won’t be there, and we’ll have to come up with another plan.  Good.  I know this kind of farm country very well.  You are right, there are dirt roads leading everywhere.  If necessary I may have to cut across a field or through a woods, but on the bike we can go where the Army trucks and Jeeps can’t go.  I’ll have a route planned by the time you get there; when will that be do you think?’

“I am guessing it will be around 0900.  Let’s say you get to the woods not later than 0830 to be on the safe side.”

Max was pleased and Oliver nodded his approval.  Max held out his hand to shake Hank’s; Oliver could tell Max was impressed.

“I like your idea, Hank, it was quick thinking.  You would have made a good officer.  Now, I’ll have Richard take you back while Oliver and I start thinking about how we get out of here once we have Roberta.  Thanks, Hank.  We’ll see you at the woods in the morning.”  Max had a big grin on his face.

Hank could hardly wait until morning, he was so excited.  He thought he would feel worse about running off from the Army, and he didn’t know if he would ever see home and his family again, but he was determined to see his plan through.  He didn’t like the thought that the Army, and maybe even Stein himself, would be after him, but strangely, he didn’t regret his decision.  If that was the price he would have to pay to be with Roberta and be in charge of his own life, then he was willing to pay it.  He felt no remorse, only excitement for what lay ahead.  The bare essentials were packed in a small duffel bag that wouldn’t be conspicuous.  He left all of his uniforms, except the one he wore.

By the time the bugler played “Taps” signaling the end of the day and lights-out, he and everyone in the barracks were in their bunks.  As soon as he closed his eyes he saw the image of Roberta against a backdrop of the moon and the stars as if the universe held their future together.   He never saw the heavens so bright and clear.  He chuckled to himself and a half grin lifted one side of his face as he thought to himself, They say we haven’t known each other long enough, but I’m not going to miss the one chance I may have in my life to keep the girl of my dreams—I know the shining star I see.  I don’t know what may come in the days ahead, but I know what tomorrow will bring, and I am at peace.

He slept so well that the next sound he heard was Reveille over the loudspeakers at 0600 hours instantly bringing him to attention.  It was still several hours before he would leave to escort Roberta to headquarters, and the wait would seem like an eternity.  He was showered, dressed, and had breakfast all before 0700.  He was so confident he would be able to make his arrangement with Stein he didn’t think much about it; everything seemed to be going according to plan.

To control his nervous energy, he went to headquarters early and shuffled through his files on SS fugitives while keeping one eye on the door for Stein, hoping he would also be in early.  No such luck, but Stein was right on time at 0800.

Just as Stein had the previous two days, he motioned Hank to his office as he walked in.  This time, Stein had a different look on his face, a curious look as if he had just discovered a big secret, and he was in a hurry.  Hank rose quickly, sensing an urgency, and sat across the desk from Stein.  Stein put his feet up on the desk and leaned back in his chair.  Hank hadn’t seen him do that before.  Stein’s “curious look” turned into a “you-won’t-believe-what-I-just-found-out” kind of expression that shook Hank up.  He wasn’t prepared for any surprises—not on this day!

“Guess who I just got off the phone with.”  Stein seemed to be baiting Hank and it made him even more uncomfortable, as if something big was about to happen and it wouldn’t be good.  Hank hesitated before he spoke.

“I couldn’t even guess, sir.”

“I’m Stein, Hank, Stein.  Unless there’s another officer present, like I said before, I’m just plain Stein.”

Hank was never comfortable calling him Stein, he thought it was just Stein’s way of getting people to drop their guard—and Hank wasn’t about to drop his guard.

“Gotcha, Stein.”  Two could play the casual game, Hank mused to himself.

“I didn’t believe it would happen.  It’s a miracle!  They found Haynes ALIVE!  I didn’t get the full details, but apparently he was able to make it to shore before he lost consciousness and was taken in by a family who were squatting in an old house in the woods near the river.  I guess he fell into a coma and had some broken bones, but he was groaning and they thought he was telling them not to let anyone know he was there.  The Military Police finally found him when they searched the house.  Damndest story I’ve heard in all my life!”

Hank nearly fell out of his chair.  He was sure the terrified look on his face would give away the secret he was holding tightly, as if with Haynes alive, Hank would now become the target of the Army’s investigation.  His plan would be ruined.

“Ha! You’re just as surprised as I am aren’t you.  I didn’t think there was any way on God’s green earth Haynes could survive that fall into the river.  I thought sure his body was trapped underwater and he would never be found.”

Hank desperately tried to compose himself, but felt his life slipping away, along with Roberta.  Maybe, just maybe, he could still pull off his escape before Haynes showed up and made an allegation against him, or tried to kill him.  Haynes reappearing gave him even more reason to run.  His worrying over Haynes was justified.

“Where is Haynes now?”

“He’s here, in Germany.  They called me from Bremerhaven this morning.  He was on the next ship that left from Galveston three weeks after we did.  I would have thought he’d be reassigned stateside, but apparently he was so determined to be reassigned to his unit they agreed to let him come—what a guy!”

Yeah some guy.  Hank thought to himself.  He’s after me!

“He’s been in Bremerhaven for a few days while they figured out how to put us together.  Damned Army doesn’t know one hand from the other.  He’ll be here this afternoon.  I asked that he be assigned to work with us.”

Hank couldn’t believe what he heard.  Haynes coming to Hamburg now—to work with them?   If Stein agreed that he be assigned to work with them, then Haynes must not have made any accusations against him.  Hank sensed an opportunity he had to grab before it was too late.

“You know, Stein, Haynes and I had our problems.”

“Yes, I know, but those were under different circumstances.  I know you both pretty well, and I like you both.  You’re the kind of men I need, so I think it’s worth a try.  Anyway, I already put the paperwork through, that’s why Haynes is on his way here now.”

Hank had to act fast, he could see his chances getting slim. Stein had no idea how dangerous Haynes was, and Hank was near desperation.

“Stein, with Haynes coming in later, I’d better go after Roberta now so we can put pressure on her to talk.  The sooner the better, while she’s upset.  We don’t want to give her time to calm down and put a story together for us.”

“That’s why I like you, Hank, You’re always thinking.  You’ll make a good officer someday.  You are right.  Go after her and I’ll be ready when you get back.  It’s 0815 now, so let’s say you get her back here by 0945.  Now go.”

Hank prayed that Stein wouldn’t see the monstrous sigh of relief he muffled as he headed for the door.

He was exhilarated as he walked to the motor pool where a security guard was waiting to drive him to the camp and retrieve Roberta.  He felt like he was in the clear.

“Good morning, are you the man who’s driving me out to the camp this morning?”

“That I am, Corporal.  Are you alone?  I have Captain Stein here on the manifest.”

“Yes.  Captain Stein sent me.  I’ll be going alone.”

“Hold on a minute, I’ll have to call over there and get that directly from him.  You aren’t on the manifest.”

The wind went out of his sails a little.  Every little glitch could be fatal, he thought, while he told himself not to worry—it’s just routine.  While the call was being made, Hank thought of another strategy that was worth trying.

“Ok, Fischer, we’re good to go.  Hop in.”

“Say, I know the way out there.  There’s no need to have both of us go.  I’m perfectly capable of securing a small woman on my own.”

“Sorry, can’t do.  Procedure you know.”

“Well I thought it was worth asking.  Let’s go.”

It was just past 0830 when they approached the burned farmhouse about half way to the camp.  Hank was getting more anxious with every minute that passed, thinking of seeing Roberta and how surprised she might be to see him.  He thought he would have to get a signal to her so she wouldn’t look happy to see him and raise suspicion.  He worried that Max wouldn’t be in the woods, but as they approached, Hank was in the passenger seat in the front and caught a glimpse of Max tucked into the woods, out of sight if you weren’t looking right at him.  His heart began to race—everything seemed to be working as planned.  Hank put his hand out the window and up over the roof where the driver couldn’t see him give Max an assuring wave.

At the camp, Hank stopped the driver as they walked into the security building where Roberta was held.

“Say, I think it would be a good idea if I went into the room by myself for a minute.  She’s very upset about being detained and I’ve met with her a couple days and I think I have her trust.  She will probably be a lot calmer if I go in to get her.”

“Sounds reasonable to me.  Suit yourself.  I don’t need any trouble.  I’ll be right out here.”

Hank knocked and opened the door slowly so he could see where she was.  When he spotted her he put his hand up as if to say, quiet, quiet, be careful.  He spoke firmly as those outside might expect him to, while mixing in instructions under his breath.

“Act like you’ve never seen me before.  Trust me, do as I say.”

Roberta quickly caught on and played her part well, in a demanding, yet womanly tone.

“Where are you taking me?  What are you doing?  You have no right to keep me!”

“Just settle down, lady, it will go a lot easier on you if you just cooperate.  No one wants to hurt you.  Come along, we’re going for a ride.”

Then under his breath, he whispered.  “When I say, ‘We certainly bombed the living hell out of this place’ make a big point about having a bathroom emergency, like you’ve got to stop immediately.  Go behind the burned out farmhouse.  I’ll give you a couple minutes then I’ll let you know what to do after that.  Be prepared to run.  Just follow me when I say go.”

With Roberta in the front passenger seat, they headed back down the road toward the farmhouse.  Just as he planned, Hank said, “We certainly bombed the living hell out of this place.”  Immediately Roberta acted like she had a horrible stomach cramp and demanded the driver to stop at the farmhouse that was approaching on the left.  Of course he did what any gentlemen would have done.  He stopped in front of the farmhouse, situated perhaps 75 yards or so from the road.  Roberta jumped out, playing her role to a “T”.  Hank was right behind her.

“I’ll keep an eye on her…well, I don’t mean that really, I mean I’ll stand watch so she doesn’t pull anything funny.”

The driver was amused and stretched back against his seat, unsuspecting.  Hank was pleased—one more step successfully executed.

Hank could hardly walk a straight line, he was so nervous.  His heart banged against his chest and sweat beaded on his forehead.  He could see Max tucked into the woods.  He moved closer to the edge, straining to get a glimpse of Roberta…and then the driver saw Max too.

“Hey!  What’s going on?  There’s someone in the woods!”  He jumped out of the truck.

“Go!  Go! Roberta!”  Hank ran behind the house and took her arm.  Seeing them take off, Max roared toward them.  In seconds they were in the sidecar and  sped away toward the back of the farm as the driver ran to the truck.  Once he was sure they were secure in the motorcycle, Hank looked back and to his amazement, the driver was turning onto the farm, giving chase.

“Go, Max!  Go!  He’s coming after us.”

Hank didn’t expect this.  He didn’t think anyone would care enough to want to go after them, particularly not a driver.  He yelled a few distasteful words in his direction that were quickly swallowed up by the roar of the motorcycle.  Within half a mile, the old farm road Max had found narrowed to a livestock path not more than five or six feet wide between two wooden fences strung with barbed wire, just enough room to get the motorcycle through, but not enough for a truck.  A couple hundred yards down the path and Max slowed and angled the cycle enough to see the truck stopped where the road narrowed and they all let out a laugh, more out of relief than anything.  The driver had done them a favor, really, it would be just that much longer before he got back to headquarters.  By that time they would be safe in Richard’s apartment.

Max looked down at Roberta with the sweetest, softest, most endearing look Hank had ever seen, and said, “Hold on, Berta!  We’ll stop up ahead when we’re out of sight and I’ll squeeze you like there’s no tomorrow!”

It was an odd place to find Kara Chandler, at an odd time: a squalid alley in the armpit of Atlanta, nearly midnight. The air sweltered like August—code orange, said the news, with dramatic warnings for asthma sufferers and the elderly to stay inside—and here, in an alley off Vine Street, the odors of urine and smog and rotten trash clung to every surface like a film.

Luke Varón inched to his left, peering past a Dumpster to the sidewalk. An odd place indeed for Kara Chandler, yet there she was, looking nothing like he’d expected. The heels were gone, her normally businesslike bun now falling in gold waves over her shoulders. In place of the usual classic suit, she wore jeans and a short-sleeved blouse, and instead of a fashionable purse, a shapeless macramé sack hung over one shoulder with her right hand buried deep inside.

Gun.

“Mr. Varón?”

Her voice stroked the night and every fiber of Luke’s body tightened. Damn, he shouldn’t be here. In two days, eight-and-a-half tons of cocaine would arrive, and with it, frank Collado. Luke had spent the last week securing the route from Colombia. He’d returned to the States a few hours ago, longing only for a clean bed and about sixteen hours to languish in it.

What he’d found was a message from Kara Chandler: Assistant District Attorney for Fulton County and Andrew Chandler’s wife. As either identity, she could threaten the security of the shipment. As both, she was downright dangerous.

“Mr. Varón?” she said again.

Luke strung the silence out another inch then said, “Here.”

She whirled, a bulge forming in the canvas of her bag. “Where? Come out, damn it.”

He did, leading with a G18. Her gaze dropped and he watched the details of the weapon register in her eyes: a lightweight, 9mm shooter with a threaded barrel to accommodate a silencer, and just now sporting an extra magazine that held thirty-three rounds. Tonight, he’d added the extra clip just for show, but in fully-automatic mode, the G18 could fire all thirty-three bullets in less than two seconds. It was legal only among law enforcement and the military.

Luke Varón was neither.

He didn’t know what she was carrying, but it didn’t take her long to determine she was out-classed. The bulge in the bag slackened.

Luke tipped his Glock skyward. “Your turn,” he said, but Kara Chandler didn’t move. “Lady, pull your fucking hand out. I’d hate to fill you with bullets and then learn you were going for lipstick.”

An inch at a time, she withdrew her hand—empty. Luke lifted the edge of his Armani suit coat and tucked his gun in the holster. He took two steps to his left so when she angled to keep her eyes on him, the frail light caught her face. Not that he needed any reminders what she looked like: hair the color of sunlight, bottle-green eyes dulled by tragedy, pale skin with two, teasing little tucks in her cheeks that flashed like lightning when she was angry and perhaps—Luke could only speculate here—when she smiled. Without her heels, she stood only a few inches above five feet, but she carried herself as if meeting him eye to eye.

On her turf, in a courtroom trying to convict him of murder, for example, Kara Chandler was the definition of cold control. Out here, she was wired so tight Luke thought she might snap if she so much as took a deep breath.

“You called?” Luke asked.

“Yes,” she said, but beneath the steel nerves, Luke caught a quaver in her voice. “I have a proposition for you.”

Luke feigned delight. “Now, what could a faithful public servant like you want with a common criminal like me?”

“I want to hire you,” she said, and he almost blinked. He caught himself and arched a dark brow instead.

“I’m not a stockbroker or private chef, Ms. Chandler.”

“I know what you are. You’re a drug cartel hit man, an arsonist and cold-blooded killer. So this job should be right up your alley. I want you to blow up a boat and make sure its owners die in the fire.”

Luke was flabbergasted. Christ. “Why me?”

“Because you can get away with it. You proved that when you walked out of court a month ago. You can get away with anything.”

“Flattery,” he said. “But you must know dozens of good criminals.”

Her gaze might have melted steel. “Besides you, the criminals I know are behind bars.”

“Ah, yes,” Luke said, letting the hint of a smile show. “You aren’t accustomed to a checkmark in the LOSS column. I’m sorry I tarnished your record.”

She took a step toward him. “It wasn’t a loss, it was a mistrial. You should be in prison for the rest of your life.”

“Lucky for you I’m not. Who would you call to commit your felonies?” He cocked his head. “Is the District Attorney really so desperate that he’s sending you into dark alleys?”

“I told you, this is personal.”

“Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

He skimmed down her blouse buttons. “Show me you aren’t wearing a wire.”

Her eyes blazed, but Luke could see that she was thinking about it. Considering stripping her clothes in a lonely, dark alley with a hit man for the Rojàs cartel, just to prove she wasn’t wired. Proof enough, Luke thought, and couldn’t quite believe his eyes when her fingers rose to her blouse and the first disk slipped through the hole. Jesus, she was going to do it. He felt like a twelve-year-old who’d just stumbled on a Playboy on a magazine under a mattress, watching her cleavage and the upper swells of her breasts come into view, her flat, pale belly revealed an inch at a time. His blood drained from his brain as she slid the blouse from her arms and let it drop to the pavement with her bag.

You don’t have to do this. The words rose to mind but didn’t make it past his lips. She unzipped her jeans and shimmied the denim over her hips—an unconsciously seductive move from any woman in any circumstance, and almost unbearably so in the heat of night with a woman of Kara Chandler’s lithe curves and unexpected mystique. Luke’s mouth went dry and she stepped from the jeans, then straightened and squared her shoulders.

The notion of sixteen hours in bed took an unexpected turn. Luke swallowed and took his time looking. Long, slender limbs and gently flaring hips, lace-edged underwear cut high enough and low enough to accentuate soft curves usually encased in power-suits. Her breasts strained against pale satin cups, and Luke’s fingers curled into fists with the desire to trade the bra for his hands.

“Satisfied?” she asked.

“Hardly,” Luke said, with more honesty than he intended. He stepped toward her, noting a trickle of perspiration trail between her breasts even as a shiver drew her nipples tight. “You and I both know transmission devices can be almost imperceptible, except upon close inspection.” He circled around her, stopping at her back to brush a hand beneath her hair and lift it from her shoulders, fanning his fingers through the waves. A sweet scent rose to his nostrils from the pulse point on her throat, an incongruous touch of elegance in the fetid alley.

But there were no electronics. If she was wearing a wire, it was installed someplace that would require exploration to find. That thought sent a surge of blood against his zipper, but a wave of anger flowed right behind it. Kara Chandler was no blushing virgin. She was a widow and a mother, an Assistant District Attorney in a major metropolis, a woman who’d taken Luke to court once for murder.

And she was playing a game. Luke didn’t like games when he didn’t know the rules.

He coiled the mass of gold around his hand and tightened the slack, tipping her head back to expose a pale stretch of throat. “You think it’s a good idea, presenting yourself to me like this? Perhaps you don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I know exactly what you’re capable of,” she said, through clenched teeth. “It’s the reason I called you. And I’m fully aware that you have Gene Montiel’s resources at your disposal, and that you can disappear on a moment’s notice to a nation without extradition. But understand that if I am murdered here tonight, nothing short of that will keep you from being arrested.”

Luke tightened his grip on her hair, pulling her nearly-naked frame against him. “Murder wasn’t what I had in mind,” he whispered. A bit of bald truth in a tangle of lies. He waited for a shiver of fear, but instead she jerked away, teeth bared.

“Do it, then.”

Luke stared.

“You think I don’t know what kind of man you are? That I didn’t know before I came here what you might demand?” Her voice vibrated with anger, maybe even with disgust, but at the same time, tears bloomed in her eyes. “Your mistake is in thinking I care,” she shot. “If sex is the currency you want, then get it over with. It’s hot out here and it stinks.”

Warning bells went off. Walk away. A tumble with Kara Chandler wasn’t worth losing the shipment. Or Frank Collado.

Walk away.

Luke stepped back, scooped her clothes from the ground and fired them at her chest. “Count yourself lucky that I’m partial to brunettes,” he said, but didn’t bother turning away while she hurried back into her clothes. He tried not to notice the sense of loss in his gut as she covered herself, tried not to wonder what—besides a set-up—would drive a woman of the law to such extremes as to try to hire a hit.

That thought was more than Luke could ignore. She bent down to pick up her bag and just before she would have walked away, he stopped her with his voice. “Ms. Chandler,” he said, “you never told me: Whose boat and whose death?”

She looked him straight in the eyes. “Mine.”