by H Schmidt
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Two days later, Ioffe met with Krisek. They would deal with the colonel and his brother. But first the gold. Ioffe knew it was still in Germany.
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Billy spotted the car first. He stood with Friederich, watching it come to a halt at the end of the lane, then turn and drive up close to the stable and stop. The man who got out was well-dressed. He seemed out of place. Four years ago, such dress would have been common at Marburg. It was Friederich who walked out to talk to the man. Billy stood under the stable roof watching.
The man was almost as tall as Friederich. On the warm summer day, he wore a white linen suit, and a wide-brimmed, yellow hat. Taking his hat off to greet Friederich, he smiled as he introduced himself.
“I am Bernard Krisek. Are you Friederich von Mecklenburg, by chance?” Friederich looked at the guileless eyes. There was a smile on Krisek’s ordinary face.
“That is correct, Herr Krisek. Can I invite you in? I’m afraid our living quarters are a little humble at the moment, but we do have some chairs.”
“If you don’t mind, Colonel, could we walk on your lane? I would like to talk to you privately.”
“Of course.”
As they reached the lane, Krisek turned to look at Friederich. “I came in by train from Berlin last night. I wanted to talk to you about the gold.”
Friederich had done a lot. Seen a lot. Had to take the measure of a lot of people. This one fooled him. Still, there was something here to be discussed. Otherwise, it would have been the army or the police visiting him.
“I don’t understand, Herr Krisek.”
“We want the gold, Colonel. We could have gone to the police with the matter, but your being in prison is not as important to us as getting the gold back.”
“What are you offering in return?”
“We will forget what we know about you and not turn the information over to the police.”
“And what information is that?”
When Krisek had finished, Friederich knew he was trapped. The new socialist government was determined to restore order. One of the sources of concern was the conservative forces like the officer corps. They would likely use him as an example to intimidate other officers.
Friederich stepped in front of the man. “You have taken a risk coming here alone, Herr Krisek. If it were true that I took the gold and did the things you accuse me of, I am a dangerous man.”
“You are also a sensible man, I understand.” Friederich was impressed with the assurance of Krisek.
“Have you looked around you, Herr Krisek? Have you seen the suffering, the heartache, the desperation? Has it occurred to you that those men on the street corners were sensible men?”
“It would do you or your family no good to kill me. There would be others.
We are asking for a straightforward agreement, the gold for your freedom.”
He felt the rage inside him when Krisek mentioned his family. He has threatened Erika and the children. At that moment, he was ready to kill his visitor, who still looked at him with those guileless eyes. How easy it would be. He stepped back and willed himself to become calm again.
“I will give your offer some thought, Herr Krisek. In the meantime, you might want to consider that I, too, have certain information. Hiding the gold from the German government, planning to remove it to Switzerland and Ioffe’s connections with the Sparticists; information best kept secret. If something happens to me or my family, arrangements have been made to see that information is no longer secret.”
Krisek stepped away from Friederich. “I will be back in three days. That would be Friday. By that time, I hope we can reach an understanding.”
As Friederich turned back toward them, Billy moved to meet him, sensing something was wrong.
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The Eagle anchored less than a kilometer from shore. Gunther Daimler had gotten his crew together that morning. Wilhelm Kunstler had contacted him the day before, explaining that the Eagle would be needed the following night. Just as he promised, Kunstler had delivered the fuel for his engines. Gunther and a crewman had spent the day checking out the sloop, which had been resting on land for a year because of the shortage of fuel. They had run up the sails, tested them in the wind, checked for leaks, started the engines, tested the pumps, running through the checklist again and again. It was almost dark when the captain was satisfied she was ready. It was dark when he eased the Eagle out of her slip and headed to sea.
Like so many around Konigsberg, Gunther was related to Friederich. His father was Erika’s father’s brother. Like his uncle, he loved the sea and had served in the navy. He had been at Kiel when the sailors revolted, barely escaping with his life. Being able to get the Eagle into the water was his first good luck in a while. Kunstler had paid him well. He would be taking the sloop to Stockholm.
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The woodland was two hundred meters from the stables. One by one, they crossed into the woods. Friederich was the last to leave. When he reached the woods, Wilhelm Kunstler and Gerhardt Kreiss were there. Six horses were saddled and ready for the trip. The Baltic was ten kilometers away. They should be there in less than an hour. They would stay off the roads, whenever they could. The two men who watched the stables did not see the family leave. They were hidden in a small cluster of trees in front of the stables. They were not aware that they also were being watched nor that their carelessness saved their lives.
All six were mounted now. Friederich looked at his watch. Five hours until daylight. They should be well out to sea by then. As they rode, Billy began to smell the sea. How long had it been since he had seen Elizaveta? When was it when he had said goodbye? Whenever he could, he had written to her. He had told her each time that it would do no good to write, because he never knew where he would be. The real reason was her own safety. It had been too easy for letters to fall into the wrong hands.
The stony beach was deserted except for a single dinghy. The man next to the dinghy walked toward the riders. Friederich approached him. Gunther’s eyes widened. “Friederich? Is that you? Is it you I will be taking to Stockholm?”
“Gunther, I am sorry we could not tell you sooner. We have to be very careful.” The short, stocky man grinned widely as he greeted the rest of the family; then realizing that time was important, he ran the wick up on the lantern and waved it. The crew began raising the anchor, getting the Eagle underway, to work her closer to shore. They had discovered earlier they could bring her to within a hundred meters of shore.
Friederich was the last to climb on board. Billy listened to the engines increase their power as the sloop eased out to sea. The family had gathered together on deck, looking toward shore. Billy moved away, allowing them their goodbyes. Saying goodbye to their home, and their country. Thinking of the white-capped mountains, the lush meadows and cold streams, he knew they would love Colorado like he did. Perhaps he was being selfish, wanting his brother and the family with him. But it was more than that.
The investigators traveled inside Konigsberg and the countryside around it looking for clues. They found what they were looking for at the docks two days later. A sloop owned by Gunther Daimler had left the harbor early morning three days ago. It had not returned. Gunther Daimler was a first cousin of Friederich von Mecklenburg. Workers remembered that Daimler had been busy with his crew the whole day before he left. One of the men said it looked like he was preparing the sloop for a long trip.
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Daimler had docked the Eagle at midday. When they stepped ashore, Billy took a taxi to the American Embassy, returning quickly with a young attaché. As the family waited beside the boat, adjusting to the feel of land, Billy introduced the young man to the von Mecklenburgs.
“Richard Gunderson, I would like to introduce you to the von Mecklenburg family. This is my sister-in-law, Erika, my brother Friederich, and their children Tomas, Katryn, and Anna. May I also introduce the captain of the Eagle, Gunther Daimler.”
The tall, thin, young A
merican dutifully shook hands with each of the family members and Daimler.
“I have made reservations for you at the Gustavus Adolphus Hotel. I shall be at your disposal while you are here, and will take care of the formalities for getting you to America. If there is anything you need, you can reach me by phone at the embassy. I shall make a point of coming to the hotel each morning. We can take care of any of the forms you must fill out then. It should not be necessary for you to be here more than a week, possibly a few days more.”
As the young man walked away, Friederich looked at his brother. “I did not know my brother was such an important person.”
“For the moment, Friederich, I am worth my weight in gold.”
Billy led the family into the hotel lobby. He looked about at the elegant hotel, with its brightly dressed porters, bellhops and clerks. The shabby dress of the family that accompanied him belied their proud manner as they walked across the floor toward the desk. It was the manager, who knew the family name, who stepped forward to greet them. Knowing the family was in good hands, Billy looked about. Friederich glanced at his brother and noticed the tension on his face. He glanced up the stairs at the same time Billy did. Friederich nudged Erika, who turned to look along with the children.
Coming down the stairs, holding her skirts so that she could move more quickly, was a tall girl, a wide grin on her lovely face. Billy started up the stairs, and with a characteristically American gesture, grabbed Elizaveta and carried her down the stairs to meet his smiling family.
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“When we were in Berlin, I read one of those travel books about Stockholm. Did you know they call it the Venice of the North because it is built on a number of islands?” Sir Rupert was sitting in the bow of the boat. He allowed his legs to swing over the water.
“Sir Rupert, didn’t you tell me two years ago that Petrograd was called the Venice of the North?”
“I’d forgotten about that. The Russians called it the Venice of the North for the same reason, as I recall. You don’t think they would start a war over that, do you?”
Sir Gustav ignored his companion’s feeble joke. “I’m sorry Maria decided not to go. We’re going to miss her children. Do you think Friederich did the right thing, Sir Rupert?”
“He had no choice. It was prison or worse. But yes, he did the right thing. He did it to be with his brother. Remember the boat captain in Narva. Billy was in the dinghy and the captain was saying goodbye. ‘We will pray for you and your brother. To hell with Germany, with America, with Russia. There is nothing more important than family and friends.’ I believe that, don’t you?”
Gustav thought about all he had been taught to believe as a young squire, about the oath to the Order and the oaths of his heirs to serve the Fatherland. In his mind he watched the parades at Potsdam, the brass booming Deutschland Uber Alles. The image was shattered by corpses before Verdun and an old woman in Berlin searching through the garbage for scraps. There was the time before Chelm when he stood beside Friederich and watched the machine gunners mow down Russian soldiers sent forward without artillery cover. He blinked as he focused on the question.
“Yes, I do.”
PART SIX
“Ladies and gentlemen, Black Thunder.” Tomas walked the great black stallion into the auction ring. Friederich could hear the oohs and ahs as the crowd leaned forward to look at the animal. Billy had been right. Let them see Black Thunder first. Sensing the crowd, the stallion reared his head, almost pulling Tomas off the ground. Friederich smiled at his son struggling to keep the Brothers’ Ranch stallion moving around the ring. He looked at the wild eyes of Black Thunder, the ears turned back, the bright Colorado sun highlighting his rippling muscles and glistening ebony body. He remembered the family around the kitchen table five years ago, deciding whether to buy the young horse.
It was young Tomas, who had traveled to Culpepper, Virginia, with him and Billy, who argued the strongest for the blue-black colt. Four years ago, the first foals from the mares were born. By last year, news of the jumpers from Black Thunder had begun to circulate among the society where social standing was enhanced by blue ribbons. Inquiries from as far away as Australia began to reach the Ranch.
“No, ladies and gentlemen, Black Thunder is not for sale. But the stock today all carry his bloodlines. You have had the opportunity to view the stock in our stables. We will now start the bidding.”
As Black Thunder exited gratefully, one of his sons entered at the opposite side of the ring. Friederich was silent while Katryn proudly walked the first colt completely around the ring.
“Would someone begin, please?”
Outside, Billy talked with a young man from Saratoga Springs, New York, who came to look at the stock and Black Thunder. He wanted to arrange for the shipment of two mares to the ranch to be covered by the stallion. As the man walked away, Billy had a moment to himself. He spotted Elizaveta with little Elizabeth and Mary near the house. The snows had retreated to the mountain peaks, and she was working among the flowers that were already blooming on the south side of their log house. In the distance, he could see the La Plata River, and the rich meadows before it. He watched a group of mares grazing, their spring coats glistening in the bright sun.
The well-heeled people who had traveled by train to Durango, and been brought to the ranch by vehicles rented and borrowed from the neighbors, saw a well-constructed, cared for and managed ranch. They could not know, he thought, the hours of sweat, of worrying over money, the confronting of a thousand and one problems that went into the building of the Brothers’ Ranch. For daylight until dark, for the first two years, they worked to build the stables, the corrals, fences, watering holes, to bring in the right stock. Right beside him and Friederich, Elizaveta, Erika, and the children worked. Living in a modest cabin on the ranch that was there when they purchased it, they had not thought of building houses until the operation was up and running. He was thankful that there were now two fine houses on the ranch, that Elizaveta and their two children now had a home of their own.
Through the years, Billy and Friederich have worried about Maria and her family. For the first year they heard little. Then, letters came more frequently. Things were better, she said. There was a new leader who understood the bitterness that Germans felt for what was happening to them. His name was Adolph Hitler. Friederich remembered gentle Maria. It was not the same Maria writing to them now.
“I do not like what I am hearing. You must persuade her to come to America, Friederich.” It was Erika who spoke up. Billy thought about Maria’s reply.
“Germany,” she said, “will rise again. We will cleanse ourselves of those who betrayed us in the war. Her words were defiant. ‘I will never leave Germany. The family might consider returning to claim its rightful place in the new German Empire.’”
Erika did not give up, pleading with Maria to come to America. Her sister-inlaw did not reply. They had not heard from her since.
In a few months, it would be seven years since the night when they had climbed aboard the Eagle and began their trip to America. Willy’s mind raced back to the moment at the tiny railroad depot when he saw the tall German officer standing on the platform watching him. He thought of the journey that had begun in Moshi over twenty years ago, Father Michael, Theresa, Yuri, Kibo, Adiru. His own father and mother. He had heard from the major, contented as a poet. He thought about the Old Man. Was he still alive? He smiled when he spoke softly to himself. “Sure he is, and still raising hell.”
He had been standing by the fence, looking east when he heard the voice. The young man was wearing a tweed jacket, a Panama Hat sitting rakishly on his head. “How did you ever create this magnificent ranch? I would like to do what you have done.”
He looked at the young man and decided it was only polite conversation. He would give him the short answer he knew he wanted. “Hard work and good fortune, my friend.” He looked at the soft white hands. “There are probably easier ways.”
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Billy looked west at the La Plata Mountains hard up against the ranch. It was a warm day; more of the same for tomorrow, he decided.
“Freddie, why don’t we take a ride up into the foothills, sleep out under the stars. Tomas can handle things until tomorrow.”
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They had ridden for two hours, finding a trail beside the river which carried them above it until they could no longer hear its sounds. A young mule deer was surprised by the two riders, raising its head, freezing for a brief second, then bounding easily into the tall firs around the small meadow. In front of them a stream, running to the edge of the river wall, then flowing out into space, disappearing as mist below them. Aspen grew near the edges of the clearing. The meadow was colored with the spring flowers and the vibrant green of new grass.
Neither man spoke as they pulled their horses up and dismounted. They couldn’t see the sun from the west rim of the canyon wall. The shadows had climbed the east wall. In the distance, only the mountain peaks were still washed by the sun. Friederich could see the rolling valley where the ranch began behind them.
“Here’s the old fire pit, Freddie.” Close to the firs at the edge of the meadow was a shallow pit surrounded by stones that Tomas and the girls had built a year ago. They worked quickly, staking out the horses, removing the saddles and bridles, then placing their gear in the soft needles under the firs. Billy worked with the hatchet to cut firewood, while Friederich filled the coffeepot with water and rooted through the saddlebags for the utensils and food.