One Way Roads

by Erik Foge

  “I don’t know yet; give me time to think of one. Also, I’m working on something else.”

  “Need help?”

  “No, but I’ll let you know. I need all intelligence on German forces from here to Berlin.”

  Valensky stopped outside their quarters. “Will do. It seems like you always work alone,” he said.

  Erik nodded.

  “Sounds good.” Valensky started to walk off, then he remembered something and turned to Erik. “Oh, dinner will be at six o’clock. I hope you like chicken.”

  “I do, thank you.”

  Erik opened the door and the lady left. Jamie was on the bed balled up and trembling, her hands hugging her legs. She stared at Erik with fear in her eyes, and her cheeks were wet with tears. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he slowly approached her, then sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her. He rubbed his fingers through her thick hair and placed her head on his shoulder.

  “Scared?” he asked softly.

  She nodded.

  “Jamie.” She didn’t look at him. “Jamie...” She glanced up at him then back down, her face blank—shock, Erik assumed. “Jamie, please listen to me.” He held her closer. “I know you’re scared about the things that happened earlier and the things you saw me do.” Erik paused as he tried to come up with the right words to say without frightening her more. “Do you remember when you asked me where I learned how to fight and I said on a farm?”

  Jamie stared at him then nodded.

  “The farm is the CIA training facility, and that’s where I learned to do the things you saw me do.” He took a deep breath. “This is who I really am. This is what I do for the agency.” Erik turned her head so their eyes would meet. “You’ll need to accept who I am and what’s happening to us, even if you don’t want to. I know it frightens you. I know it is difficult for you to comprehend. I didn’t want you to see that side of me, but since you have, I’m asking you to trust me and not be afraid.”

  Jamie’s eyes were full of tears. “I don’t want to lose you, babe!” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight.

  He kissed her head. “You won’t lose me, princess, I promise you.”

  “But those men were shooting at you and trying to kill you and you… killed… that man.”

  “I know I did.”

  “Besides Iraq, have people tried to kill you?” Erik nodded, and she squeezed tighter. “I can’t live without you. You’re my soul mate.”

  “Yes, I am. And you’re not going to have to live without me. I have a habit of staying alive.”

  A grin came over her face.

  “Now try to get some sleep before we eat. You’ve had a long day.”

  He lifted her chin, kissed her, and rubbed her back to comfort her, then helped her lie down and covered her with the blanket. She stared at him with a warm, satisfied smile, then closed her eyes. He got up slowly, careful not to disturb her, and walked to the door.

  “Don’t leave me.”

  He turned. “I have to do something.” He looked into her soft brown eyes. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

  “Please?” She asked softly, reaching out to him.

  He saw that she was still scared and realized that it would take some time for her to overcome that. He strolled back to the bed and lay beside her. She smiled and laid her arm over his chest.

  “Babe, can you teach me something else in history?”

  He pondered what he should talk about to relax her, and most of all, get her mind off what had happened recently. He told her to close her eyes and think of a simpler time, the Victorian Era, the year 1880. He explained that dating at that time was much different than it is today, that most people, since they had no TV or radio, saw parades, plays, operas, and even concerts that might last up to four or five hours, with no breaks. He made a joke about that and she laughed. It was hard for some single people to find a date, he told her. They would usually go with a chaperone, or if they were from money, a lead servant whose role was to make sure no mischief took place.

  During social events, the young ladies stood on one side of the room and the gentlemen on the other side. Then the young ladies moved in a clockwise oval, holding a handkerchief that had their initials on it, while the gentlemen walked counter-clockwise and the chaperones watched from the sides. Eye contact was most important, and a little nod indicated interest, but girls couldn’t look directly back if a gentleman caught her eye. If, after time, a girl found a gentleman she was interested in, she would drop her handkerchief in front of him. Then one of two things could happen. He would either pick it up, which meant he was interested, or he’d leave it. Erik explained that another gentleman couldn’t pick it up, but the young lady could pick it back up and then drop it for another whom she had an interest in. Once a mutual interest was established, they would walk in the park, not holding hands, with their chaperones behind them. They would talk, very much like dates today, and get to know each other. And that’s how it would go until they would break it off or get engaged.

  Erik turned to her and saw that she had fallen asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief and stared at the ceiling. Almost immediately his mind began to work. He wondered who the assassin could be and how he was going save Hitler. If Erik couldn’t stop it from happening, Hitler would be assassinated in October, and the world would take a path that was far worse than the one that led to Erik and Jamie’s 2008. The twenty-first century they knew would become an alternate reality, replaced with something they might not recognize—should they ever make it back.

  Erik closed his eyes and mentally role-played how the assassin would carry off his assignment.

  The Führer Bunker is behind the Reich Chancellery. The elite soldiers of the SS would fill the courtyard in their black tunics with cuff title in silver and white embroidery spelling ADOLF HITLER. They’d watch with cold eagle eyes, ready to protect and give their lives for their Führer. The assassin, in an SS officer’s uniform, would analyze every aspect of the courtyard as he approached the entrance to the Führer Bunker. The guards at the entrance would stand alert and motionless with their fingers on the triggers of their MP-44s. A sentry would step forward with his hand outstretched and ask for the assassin’s papers. He’d examine the ID papers without emotion, then since it was a highly restricted area and only a few were allowed in the bunker, he would say, “You’re not authorized to enter. I must ask you to leave the premises immediately.”

  Without hesitation, the assassin would do a lightning thrust left-heel stomp to the sentry on his left, causing his kneecap, fibula, shinbone and thighbone to shatter like pieces of china hitting a tile floor. Without looking to the sentry on his right, he would thrust his elbow into his trachea, cervical lordosis, and cervical vertebrae. Then as the SS guards in the courtyard started to take aim, he’d pull out his Luger, fix his sights on each guard, in turn, aim and fire a single deadly shot into each of them. Next, he’d squat to pick up the MP-44 from the dead guard; then he’d stand, and to save ammo, he’d stomp on the injured sentry’s neck, killing him instantly. Finally, the assassin would continue with his objective and proceed down the staircase to the bunker.

  Naturally, some of the guards from inside the bunker would come up the stairs to provide backup. The assassin, acting naturally, would raise his MP-44 and spray bullets down the staircase, killing those guards before continuing to descend into the bunker. Once inside, the assassin, who would be proficient in German, would listen to orders being given and the stomping of footsteps that raced down the hallway. He’d draw their fire, then unleash his attack when he heard them reloading. Hitler’s bodyguards would try to take cover in doorways, and the assassin would quickly reload as he inched his way down the corridor and maneuvered around the guards by going into different rooms. The assassin, using his martial arts, Krav Maga, and stealth techniques, would be able to sneak up undetected and attack his victims, killing them one-by-one. The first wave of Hitler’s bodyguards would fail, and the assassi
n would continue with caution to the staircase that led to the second level of the bunker.

  To see if there’d be any guards, the assassin would act like one of them and ask for back up. There’d be only a handful left, but there could still be some below. He’d advise the guards that the assassin was down the hallway in one of the rooms, and as the remaining guards inched their way down the hallway, he’d maneuver behind the last guard.

  Erik imagined the scene so clearly that he could see the guard’s eyes widen with fear when he realized that the assassin was behind him.

  Before the guard could turn around and warn the others, the assassin’s hands would reach out, grab his head on both sides and twist like a bottle top, breaking his neck. Using him as a body shield, the assassin would then raise his Luger and kill the other guards. Next, he’d descend down the stairs and down the hallway of the second bunker. He’d kick open the door to the map room, where Hitler was, and would aim and kill the last of the bodyguards.

  Hitler would demand. “Who are you?”

  Then the assassin would complete his objective. He’d kill Hitler with the last rounds in his Luger.

  Erik thought of all the individuals who were close to Hitler who would most likely believe him and help to save Hitler’s life. He thought of those in Hitler’s inner circle. Then one-by-one, he analyzed the pros and cons of each. The best choice was Albert Speer because he was the easiest to find, and Hitler considered him as a friend. The hardest part would be convincing Speer that there would be another attempt to assassinate Hitler. Erik took a deep breath, tried to relax, and eventually fell sleep.

  A soft knock woke him. Erik approached the door with caution, his Luger in hand. He opened the door just enough to see who it was. It was Valensky. Erik stepped out.

  “I’ve been thinking about who the traitor could be, and I can’t think of anyone,” Valensky said. “But assuming there is such a person, I suggest you wear a disguise so he or she will not recognize you. After all, they could be looking for you.”

  “That’s true. I should wear a bandage around my neck so it looks like I have a wound and can’t speak.”

  “Good idea. I’ll get one.” Valensky went to fetch the bandage and Erik returned to his room, prepared to wake Jamie and get ready for dinner.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and gently touched her. “Jamie,” he whispered.

  After several tries, her eyes opened. She rubbed them, then saw Erik, and with a smile, sat up, kissed him, and held him tight.

  “Time for dinner,” he said.

  “Okay.” Jamie got up, walked to the basin, and washed her face. She then applied makeup and did her hair, all in ten minutes, which impressed Erik. A knock came from the door and Erik answered it. Valensky came in and greeted Jamie.

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle.”

  “Bonjour.”

  Valensky gave the disguise items to Erik and while he got ready, Jamie and Valensky talked. Erik wrapped the bandage around his neck, and then placed a Kangol Tropic Ventair cap on his head and spectacles with thick lenses on his nose. Jamie chuckled and pointed at Erik. He just grinned back; he knew he looked silly, but it had to be done.

  Erik said to Jamie. “There could be a spy, which is why I’m in disguise.”

  She grinned. “Okay. And if they shoot at you? What should I do then?

  “Duck; get under cover, and I’ll handle the rest.” Erik saw Jamie’s blank expression. He neared her and said in a continued half whisper, “I was trained to kill people ... and I’m very good at that.”

  They walked to the great hall where dinner was to be served. At the entrance, Erik felt inquisitive eyes that scrutinized him and Jamie. Valensky led them to their seats and sat by Erik. A young lady approached them and asked if they preferred white or dark meat. Then she disappeared and returned within a couple of minutes with their food and water. Erik smirked at Jamie when she sampled the water. Without chlorine or other chemicals to purify it, the water tasted different.

  In the corner of his left eye, Erik saw some men come toward them. They smiled at Jamie and sat on either side of her. Erik stared impassively at them and continued to eat. One eyed Jamie and asked her a question. When she replied, he looked at her oddly, and Erik guessed that he noticed her American accent. Though he didn’t understand much French, he figured out that she had told him her father was an American diplomat and her mother was from Paris. The men seemed satisfied by her explanation but still looked at Erik skeptically.

  “Êtes-vous un espion allemand? Are you a German spy?” One asked in an arrogant French accent. He had an incredulous grin, and his nostrils contracted reflexively.

  Erik said nothing and just stared at them blankly. He could not be tricked into actions or words that would incriminate him.

  Valensky pointed out that Erik couldn’t speak, and the men gave up and walked away.

  While eating, Erik scanned the room, trying to find anyone who didn’t belong. It was not easy; Erik was at a disadvantage. He had no idea when the operative he sought was sent back. He knew the individual was from the future, another field operative from ONE, and the operative knew what Erik looked like, but Erik didn’t know what the operative looked like.

  This should be downtime, a time to recharge his batteries, but he wouldn’t be able to because he had to come up with a plan to save Hitler. On top of that, he never knew what was waiting around the next corner. He felt someone’s presence and glanced around. The man who stood almost out of sight when they pulled up to the château earlier stared at him again, this time from a corner of the room. Erik got up and headed toward the man, but he disappeared. With a sigh of frustration, Erik returned to his seat.

  “Babe, what is it?” Jamie asked in a half whisper. Valensky leaned in, listening.

  “That guy has been watching me ever since I got here.” Erik turned to Valensky. “Did you see that man staring at me?”

  Valensky shook his head.

  Erik wiped his hands and mouth and got up from the table.

  “Where are you off to?” Valensky asked.

  “Going outside to get some fresh air and think about things.”

  Valensky nodded and Erik left and Jamie followed. Outside, the air was crisp and the cover of night was beginning to set in. Some guards lounged nearby, the ends of their cigarettes glowing orange, then fading away. Erik sat on the ground and Jamie joined him. He stared into the distance, momentarily free of thoughts.

  “Babe, what are you thinking about?” Jamie asked.

  “Stuff.”

  “Do you think someone is watching you?”

  “I don’t think, I know for sure they are, but I haven’t gotten a good look yet.” He paused. “But I’m pretty sure they know what I look like.”

  “Who could they be?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m not going to wait around to find out.”

  “You think they’re from the future?”

  “Yes.” Erik rubbed his chin. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Have you been in situations like this before?”

  He winced at her question. “I can’t deny nor confirm that.”

  Jamie glanced at him, disappointment on her face.

  “No matter what year it is, I’m sworn to secrecy,” he explained.

  “Can you tell me what you had to do to get the CIA medals?”

  Erik regarded her in a new light, surprised and impressed that she had found out about them. He shook his head. “I can’t go into details.”

  She held his hand and placed her head on his shoulder, and they looked up at the evening sky that sparkled above the ancient building. Erik lay down, pulled Jamie with him, and they continued to stare at the stars and constellations. Jamie rested her head on his chest and tapped her finger in time with his heartbeat, then she glanced up at his face and she asked him what he was thinking about.

  He said nothing for a moment, then: “I’m wondering if someone’s looking for me somewhere in some other place. Also
, I remembered that my grandmother on my father’s side told him a story about the FBI coming to their apartment one time because her husband was German. The agents went through their things because they suspected he was a Nazi supporter, which was totally false.”

  “What would someone have to do to get on the CIA Memorial Wall,” Jamie changed the topic.

  Erik raised his eyebrows at the unexpected question. “You have to be a very good analyst or field operative and have to die in the line of duty. If I die here, they’ll add a star for me, but my name won’t be listed in the CIA Book of Honor.”

  “Why?”

  “This mission is highly classified so my name and the names of the two that died back here before me, can’t be mentioned now, maybe never.”

  Jamie’s eyes widened. “There were two others sent back before you?”

  Erik nodded.

  “What happened to them?”

  “I only know they died.”

  “And now they want you dead, too.”

  “Sure does appear that way.”

  Jamie sat up. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t have to make sense to us. They have their reasons. I know I was a thorn in their side because of some things I worked on and my methods of getting information. My best guess would be that they hoped I’d die while doing their mission. Also, they wouldn’t want anyone to know about time travel and their interfering in the past, so I’m a loose end they want to tie up, just to make sure. I also suspect that someone pulling the strings just hates me.” Erik thought of Cole. “I don’t like him either.” He grinned. “And I shall take great delight in fucking up his plans.”

  Jamie smiled. “So what about the next couple of weeks. What are you planning?”

  Erik sat up. “We hide from the OSS. I find the operative and plan my trip to Berlin.”

  Jamie placed an arm around his shoulder. “Easy?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, no sweat,” he said, wishing it to be true. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” He stood and reached for her hand.