One Way Roads

by Erik Foge

  Erik shot out a question and hoped to catch Cerberus off guard. “So captain, how you did get this information?”

  “That’s top secret.”

  “Oh, really?” Erik asked mockingly. “Are you in the OSS?”

  “No. I mean,” Cerberus sheepishly shrugged his shoulders, “I’m a part of Army Intelligence.”

  “If that’s so, where’s your uniform shoulder patch?”

  Bradley took off his glasses and studied the files again.

  Cerberus tried to salvage his credibility and tried to take some of the heat out of the conversation. “Sir, how can we trust him? He’s wearing the uniform of the enemy. He has no proof for what he’s saying and who he is.”

  “General Bradley, my proof is in my right tunic pocket.”

  Erik raised his hands and Bradley motioned a soldier to retrieve the documents. The documents were handed to Bradley. He unfolded them, quickly glanced over them, and then stared at Erik. “What am I looking at?”

  “The document with the names is what the provisional government would have looked like if the plot for Hitler had succeeded. However…”

  Cerberus butted in. “However, the plot failed, and that document is useless because everyone will be killed by the SS or Gestapo.”

  “Captain, I’m aware the plot has failed.” Bradley looked at Erik. “Continue.”

  “That might be true, but not everyone on the document has been killed.”

  “General,” Cerberus protested, “how can you believe anything he’s saying? He’s going on a leap of faith. The Germans don’t want peace.”

  “If that was the case, why did Rommel make this trip?” Erik barked, as Bradley looked at the second sheet of paper. “Secondly, he made another list of those we can use as allies to overthrow Hitler and his inner circle.”

  “What other list are you talking about?” Cerberus gasped, his eyes enlarged.

  “I’m surprised at you, captain;” Erik said, “for being a part of Army Intelligence, your knowledge is limited, and you’re not very informed about certain things.”

  “My superiors do not always inform me about everything!”

  “Oh really, captain? Did they forget to give you that intel? What else did military intelligence forget to do or tell you?”

  Cerberus turned red, and the veins on his neck started to pop out. Erik stared calmly at him. But Bradley lost his patience.

  “Both of you, shut up!” Bradley glanced at the personal files again, then looked directly at each of them in turn. “So gentlemen … you both tell me there is a Nazi spy among us. Interesting.” Bradley placed his glasses back on. “So tell me this … who won the last World Series?”

  Cerberus chuckled as if he couldn’t believe Bradley was asking such an easy question. Jamie, knowing that Erik knew nothing about sports, looked horrified. She closed her eyes, and her lips moved as if in prayer.

  Erik, however, replied without hesitation. “The New York Yankees.”

  Cerberus let out a huge laugh. “You can’t be serious; you Nazi spies need to pay more attention to America’s pastime.”

  Erik turned to Cerberus. “Then you, with your great wisdom, please correct me.”

  “Love to. It was the Philadelphia Phillies.”

  Bradley motioned, and two of the soldiers behind Cerberus grabbed his hands and forced them behind him, while another pointed a gun in his face, and a third handcuffed his hands. Cerberus started to struggle, and panic slowly stretched across his face.

  Erik faced Cerberus and, with a mischievous grin, mouthed, “Oops, wrong answer.” The Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series in 2008, not 1943.

  “You son of a bitch!” Cerberus yelled.

  “It’s Dr. Erik Függer to you, or should I say The Saint,” Erik whispered so only Cerberus could hear.

  Bradley walked up to Erik and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Son, you look like the worst has gotten the better of you.” Erik nodded, and with a smile, Bradley continued, “I’ll have my personal physician look you over and patch you up.” Then Bradley looked at Jamie, who beamed with relief. “Good thing the Lieutenant gave me these dossiers.” He held them up. “I would never have known there’d be a Nazi spy in my headquarters.”

  “The lieutenant is my aide, and she’s very good at what she does,” Erik said while Cerberus was carried away, still struggling and insisting upon his innocence.

  “General, I need those dossiers back,” Erik said as Bradley handed them back to Jamie. “What are you going to do with the captain?”

  “He’ll be sent to a prison where he’ll await trial for treason.”

  “With all due respect, Sir, my orders are to kill him.”

  “Oh. Well, I can’t question the authority of the OSS, but you don’t look like you’re in any condition to do that, so I’ll carry out that order for you, Sir.”

  “Very good, general.”

  General Bradley snapped Erik a salute, then he turned around and gave two separate orders. “Kill that Nazi spy and get my personal physician out here now!”

  Members of his staff dashed off in separate directions.

  Jamie rushed toward Erik with open arms. With no strength left, Erik fell to the ground. Jamie kneeled and cradled his body close to hers. Erik felt something in his pocket. He reached in and pulled out the letter from Rommel. Jamie helped him open it, and he read it aloud:

  Erik,

  These past several days have been interesting, to say the least. I am hopeful that the meeting with General Bradley will be successful and that our two countries will make a peace because I know it will not be possible with Russia. However, I am being skeptical. I do not believe this meeting with General Bradley will be successful and so the war will continue. However, if it is, I know that your government will not allow us to see each other or let me write this letter, and I will have to obey their concessions and conditions. If the peace treaty does not work between our nations, it is because of the politicians with their tender mercies of injustice. Nevertheless, this is nothing to grieve over because you know the truth; we were trying to end this war. You gave me something I never expected to find from an American officer, your gift of trust. I will never forget that. If the war continues, then do your best to end it with less bloodshed. Do your best, and do it well.

  I will remain as ever your friend, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel.

  Erik swallowed back the lump that formed in his throat. “It’s okay, babe, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He looked up at Jamie. She smiled down at him and combed her fingers through his blood-soaked hair. Tears of joy ran down her face.

  “How did you know where I was?” Erik asked as he stared into her beautiful brown eyes.

  Jamie reached into a pocket and pulled out a fortune from a fortune cookie. She opened it up and showed it to Erik: Your gift is to bring friends together. Erik realized it was Jacques’ fortune from the restaurant. Jamie turned the paper over, and Erik read the message written in Jacques’ handwriting.

  Good luck in your new life.

  Erik grinned and looked into Jamie’s eyes. “Now I can take you to the Eiffel Tower like I promised.”

  A huge smile came across Jamie’s face and she held him tighter as if she never wanted to let him go.

  14. SURPRISES

  “That I exist is a perpetual surprise which is life.”

  — Rabindranath Tagore

  CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  Bonesteiner stood in front of the Memorial Wall and watched a man placing a star symbolizing Erik’s death; like the others, his name would be marked as unknown in the Honor Book. Footsteps in the distance grew louder and approached him from behind.

  Cole joined him. “I see they told you about Dr. Függer’s death. Looks like history will remain the same.”

  Bonesteiner glared at him. “Don’t assume anything, Cole.”

  “Well, you were wrong about him being one of your best.”

  Before Bonesteiner could reply,
Cole’s cell phone went off. Bonesteiner saw Plackett’s name on the caller ID before Cole excused himself and walked away. Bonesteiner edged a little closer and eavesdropped.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Cole said into the phone while he glared at Bonesteiner. “They should have been back hours ago. I’m on my way; have Mr. Crowley with you.”

  “Lost some operatives?” Bonesteiner asked as he suppressed a grin. If the two assassins didn’t come back, they’d probably failed to kill Erik. No doubt Cole had figured that out, too.

  “Not at liberty to comment.”

  Cole turned and left but turned back when Bonesteiner spoke: “I thought you’d like to look at this.” Bonesteiner handed him two photocopies of a page from the book Erik gave Jacques. The first was a black and white photograph of Ahriman in an SS Colonel uniform, and the second was a 1944 map of Belgium, during the Battle of the Bulge.

  “What is it?”

  “Something you might take a closer look at.”

  “Photocopies from a history book?” Cole chuckled.

  “Look closer.”

  Cole looked at the photocopies and his eyes widened in shock. “Where did you get these?” Cole muttered under his breath.

  “He did tell you he had an extensive library.”

  “So he did.”

  Bonesteiner’s words turned cold. “He is much more resourceful than Knight and Mulder, the other two you set up to fail and had killed. However, whatever you and Plackett have planned for World War Two, I hope to God he fucks it up.”

  “We shall see.” Cole started to walk off.

  “Cole!” Bonesteiner got his attention one last time. “I don’t know if you are familiar with William Shakespeare’s play, The Merchant of Venice.” Cole shrugged his shoulders. “Since you’ve crossed paths with Erik, I think you’ll find this quote from Act III relevant: ‘If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?’”

  Cole’s expression hardened. The side of his mouth twitched, and his eyes narrowed. He sneered, then turned on his heel and stalked off.

  15. LOOKING OVER SHOULDERS

  “Why is it that people like us choose to serve for nickels a day in a profession that makes us constantly look over our shoulder to see who’s watching us?”

  — Philip Allen from the movie The Good Shepherd

  Saint-Jacques-de-la-Lande, France. 23 August 1944

  Five grueling and painful weeks of physical therapy later, Erik was still in a military hospital under the name Joe Turner. Jamie laid her tired head on Erik’s chest and gently held his right hand. He was proud of her; not only because she had come back to help him and did an excellent job of playing the role of a lieutenant—and probably saved his life—but also because of how well and quickly she adjusted to life in France in 1944. She found a place to stay, bought a car, and had been working on improving her French. She even jogged every day—in case, she said, she had to run away from someone—and never blanched when Erik taught her to handle a gun—as much as one can in a hospital room. France was nearly liberated, and Erik had assured Jamie that things would get better after the twenty-fifth of the month when the last German garrison would surrender the capital.

  Erik lay restlessly in his hospital bed; his eyes fixed on every detail of the room and stared often to the door since he didn’t know who from 1944 or 2008 would come through. He was intensely aware that the longer he stayed in the hospital, the more likely it would be that it was someone he didn’t want to see.

  From time to time, Erik tilted his head to kiss Jamie’s soft, silky-brown hair. He thought how lucky he was to have a girlfriend so loving and supportive that she was willing to leave everything and everyone she knew to be with him in 1944. Erik knew the history and the mannerisms of the people in 1944, but he was uncertain of his personal future and haunted by his past. He felt he constantly needed to look over his shoulder, and maybe would have to for the rest of his life. The door slowly creaked open and drew Erik’s immediate attention. His muscles tensed, but relaxed when the doctor walked in with Erik’s chart. Jamie lifted her head and sat up.

  “Good morning, Joe,” The doctor said as he read over the documentation in Erik’s chart. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m alive, doc.”

  The doctor flashed a knowing grin as he asked Erik to sit on the side of the bed and started his routine checkup on Erik’s vitals and injuries. “Your eye is completely healed.” He gently touched Erik’s ribcage. “How does that feel?”

  “The pain’s still there, but not as sharp as before.”

  The doctor nodded, then cupped his hands over Erik’s left patella and signaled him to slowly bend his knee, testing the flexibility. Erik took a deep breath, winced, and flexed his knee as far as he could. Jamie held his hand for moral support.

  “Can you go any further?”

  Erik shook his head, wrinkles etched in his forehead.

  The doctor repeated the request several times and measured how much it had healed. “You’re very fortunate that you can still walk, but I don’t think you’ll ever have the full potential and movement of your knee again.”

  Erik nodded.

  “Doctor,” Jamie asked, “is there anything you can do to restore his knee?”

  “I wish we could. Maybe in the future, we can. I am, like my colleagues, astonished at how quickly Joe has recovered from his injuries.”

  Erik tapped Jamie’s hand and shook his head discreetly to remind her they were in 1944, not 2008, and not to ask too many questions. Then the doctor ordered Erik to squeeze his hand as hard as he could, which he did with some discomfort. The doctor shook his head in disbelief at how rapidly the healing had taken place. He made some documentation in Erik’s chart and finalized his examination.

  “Any questions?”

  “When can I be discharged?”

  The doctor pondered before he replied, “I’d have to say, with the progress you’ve made and if it continues, you’ll be discharged and can go back to work in another two weeks.”

  “That’s great!” Jamie said cheerfully, her smile filling the room. Erik just nodded.

  “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Well. Have a good day.”

  The doctor exited and closed the door behind him. Erik whipped his head around to face Jamie. “Get my clothes. We’re leaving.” He stood up, grabbed his clothes as Jamie handed them to him, and started getting dressed.

  “But babe, what about what the doctor said?”

  Erik looked directly in Jamie’s soft brown eyes. “I appreciate that you want me to be fully recovered, but trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  “But you’re under an assumed name. No one can find out.”

  Erik tilted his head as if to say, “Do you really believe that?”

  “By the way,” she continued, “why did you pick the name, Joe Turner?”

  He patted her hand and replied, “No one will find out … hmmm. Now that’s wishful thinking.” He put on his shirt. “I got the name Joe Turner from the movie Three Days Of The Condor. He was on the run, like me, or should I say, like us.” He raised his finger. “You’re correct. I’m under an assumed name. That might delay the Phoenix Group from finding me, but there’s a new player in the game now.”

  “Who?”

  “The OSS, the Office of Strategic Services.”

  Jamie raised an eyebrow in a silent request for further explanation.

  “The predecessor of the Central Intelligence Agency. They will be looking for me, and if they do find me, they will detain and question me. If that happens, things can get ugly.”

  “What would they do?”

  “They will try to get information from me.” Jamie tried to get a word out, but Erik held up a finger, telling her to wait. “The problem is the methods they’ll use to get the information.” Jamie gulped. “They’ll place me in a seat for starters, then t
hey’ll ask a question and if I don’t give an answer or the answer they want, they’ll hit me. Third, if all else fails, they’ll break fingers or toes, and then finally …” Erik saw the pure shock in her eyes. “Yes, you guessed it. They’ll kill me.” As he put on his shoes, he said with a grin, “So we have nothing to worry about because we’re not at that stage yet. You ready to go?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, go find me a doctor’s lab coat, a stethoscope, and my chart.”

  Jamie gave him a grin and left the room while Erik got rid of anything that could identify him or be used to track him. He even wiped surfaces to make sure he didn’t leave fingerprints behind. He reached under the pillow as the door suddenly swung open. Erik whipped the Luger from beneath the pillow, released the safety, and aimed at the individual who was coming in.

  Jamie stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and stared wide-eyed at the gun pointing at her.

  “Sorry,” Erik said, as he lowered the gun. “It could have been anyone.”

  Jamie swallowed. “You weren’t joking were you?”

  “No, I wasn’t.” He approached her a little like one would a frightened child and reassured her that everything would be okay.

  “Erik, I can’t imagine—”

  He filled her last thought. “What it was like when I worked with the agency?”

  She nodded.

  Erik knew there was no possible way she would be able to comprehend, so he used a quote he remembered that William Parrish had said in the movie Meet Joe Black. “Multiply it by infinity and take it to the depth of forever, and you will still have barely a glimpse of what I’m talking about.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” Her hands trembled, and Jamie gave Erik the items he requested. He slipped on the coat, then opened the door, and next he glanced around and analyzed his surroundings. The medical staff and doctors were preoccupied. “Come on.” He gestured to Jamie, and she followed him out.

  They quickly strolled to the elevators. Erik pressed the button repeatedly while he tapped his foot and glanced over his shoulder. His fists were starting to ball up from the tension when the door suddenly drew open. They leaped in just as he overheard his doctor asking the nurse where his chart was, and the nurse stated that the patient, Joe Turner, was missing. The elevator doors closed, and Erik and Jamie shared a cunning grin. They descended to the first floor and headed to the car Jamie had for them.