One Way Roads

by Erik Foge

  During the next couple of days, Erik and Valensky analyzed everyone’s behavior and actions. They wondered who could possibly know about Erik’s previous visit, and Erik was still not able to find the individual who had stared at him ever since he arrived.

  They brainstormed different possibilities. Then Valensky turned to Erik, looked as if a light bulb had gone on over his head. “I recall that the SS officer was the only one who showed up last time you were here.”

  Erik nodded and motioned him to finish his thought.

  “He must have been contacted by radio.” Valensky pounded his fist against his forehead for not realizing that sooner. “There’s a two-way radio here but there are always two-to-three people in the radio room, so it’d be impossible.”

  Erik said one of Bonesteiner’s quotes he lived by: “Nothing is impossible, you just got to know how to do it.”

  “Come.” Valensky led Erik to the radio operator’s workroom and tapped a secret knock. The door opened and they entered a space a little bigger than Erik’s quarters, but still cramped, with every space utilized. The two-way radio utilized most of the room. The operator sat with a headset on. The other individual’s job was to relay messages to the appropriate parties, Valensky being one of them. Their weapons were in arms’ distance in case there was a situation. To break the monotony, they had a record player. They found no evidence there of spy activity.

  Next, they went to the living quarters of those who helped protect the château. Valensky ordered the mattresses to be flipped so they could see under the bunks. Erik hoped to find a transmitter or other radio parts, but after a thirty-minute search, Valensky stared at Erik, shook his head, and motioned they should give up.

  As they walked to the door, Valensky cupped Erik’s shoulder. “It was worth a shot. You can’t say we didn’t try.”

  “There has to be something we’ve overlooked,” Erik said, racking his brain.

  Valensky shrugged.

  “What would a two-way radio need to operate?” Erik asked a moment later.

  “Headphones, transmitter, receiver, frequency range, IF-frequency, antenna, approximately thirteen meters, and ground wire approximately three meters long on Paxolin card. It also would need to be portable—light enough that one man could carry it.”

  Erik nodded thoughtfully. “Where’s your radio from?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Where was it made?”

  “It’s British, manufactured by the Marconi Company; they do make a smaller version.”

  Erik raised an eyebrow. “What size?”

  “I don’t know.” Valensky made some hand gestures as if doing measurements. “But it’d fit in a suitcase or a record player.”

  Their eyes met as if they were thinking the same thing. “Record player,” they said in unison.

  On the way back to the radio room, Erik still couldn’t believe that ONE had sent three operatives to make sure he didn’t return. He wondered if they were the same team that killed the other two analysts. Again, Valensky did the secret taps, and again they entered, leaving the door open. Valensky pointed to the record player and asked to whom it belonged, while Erik checked the rest of the room. One of the men replied that it belonged to the new guy, Karawan. Valensky motioned to get him.

  Erik pulled out his Luger and advised that he would do the talking with Karawan. Just then, Jamie walked by and saw Erik with his pistol drawn. Valensky motioned her to stay where she was and grabbed an MP-40 and slid the bolt. Then a fairly stocky man with crescent-gray eyes appeared at the doorway. Valensky ordered him to come in. Erik turned around.

  “Est-ce le vôtre? Is this yours?” Valensky asked as he pointed at the record player.

  The man nodded.

  “Où avez-vous obtenu? Where did you get it?”

  Erik held up his hand and stepped forward, “Verstehst du mich? Do you understand me?” he asked in German. The man just looked baffled. Erik asked again and studied his behavior, then repeated in English, “Do you understand me?”

  Karawan tilted his head and leaned forward a little. “Excusez-moi? Qu’est-ce? Excuse me? What?” He tried to form a sentence in English. “Excuzie me. I do not speak good Englash.”

  “I see.” Erik rubbed his chin while scrutinizing Karawan. Then he grabbed a record. “What’s your name?”

  “Excuzie me?”

  Erik stared at him coldly. “Your name!”

  The individual appeared to have understood. “Karawan.”

  “Karawan, do you like Benny Goodman?” Erik dropped the record, shattered it into several pieces. Karawan did nothing and remained calm as Erik picked up a Duke Ellington album and showed it to him. “How about him? No?” He dropped it, too.

  Valensky and the others stared at Erik, wondering what he was doing. Jamie tried to approach Erik, but Valensky raised his hand to stop her. Erik breathed a deep sigh of frustration and anger grew in his voice. “So you don’t understand English very well?” Erik nodded his head several times. “Hmmm?”

  “Oui.”

  “Oui? Yes?”

  Karawan nodded.

  “That’s pretty impressive since you don’t speak English very well. Let me see if some visual aids will help you.” Erik removed his thick glasses and Kangol Tropic Ventair. Karawan’s mouth jerked in shock and his eyes enlarged.

  Erik realized that Karawan was another operative from ONE. Karawan had just realized that the previous assassin failed to kill Erik. Karawan reached for his pistol. Simultaneously, Erik raised his pistol and focused on his target. Jamie maneuvered around Valensky and shoved Karawan hard, which made him lose his balance and aim. Erik fired off three rounds into Karawan’s chest. Karawan fell to the floor, and a puddle of blood started to form. Everyone stared in shock.

  Valensky approached Erik. “What made you so certain?”

  Erik touched the record player and pushed it to the ground. As it broke, Erik stated, “This part we guessed correctly.” Valensky nodded as the others shook their heads in disbelief. “Do you like music?” Erik pointed at Valensky, who nodded. “What would you do if I broke your records?”

  “I’d be in a rage and try to stop you.”

  “Exactly and Karawan—”

  Valensky stole Erik’s last words, “Didn’t get upset.”

  Erik nodded.

  “It seemed you already knew that.”

  Erik shrugged as if to say maybe or maybe not. He knew that he would have been upset if their records were smashed. He gave Valensky a nod and walked out with Jamie close behind. She reached for his hand. He extended his hand as he turned to her and thanked her for what she had done. She smiled.

  “Who was that guy?”

  “He was an operative from ONE from our time. His name was Karawan, which actually means an evil eye—very apt.”

  Footsteps echoed through the stone hallway behind them. Erik glanced over his shoulder. It was Valensky.

  He extended his hand. “Good job back there …”

  Erik nodded in appreciation.

  “Even though I don’t know who you work for.” Valensky leaned forward, hinted that he’d like that information. “Will you ever tell me?”

  “No.”

  He shrugged. “So, what’s next?”

  “Berlin.”

  Erik spent the next two weeks analyzing, reading, researching, and trying think of how to save Hitler’s life and how to convince Albert Speer to help him.

  In the same cold room in which he was interrogated, Erik studied the reports from the French Resistance, including one on the failure of Operation Market Garden. A battered map of Northern France with military tactical symbols indicating sizes and types of units lay on the table. He walked to the table and unfolded a map of Central Europe over the top. The door swung open, which brought in a brisk wind. Erik closed it firmly, then rubbed his eyes and refocused on the map, trying to work out the best route to get to Berlin easily and without confrontation.

  He walked around the ta
ble, took a seat, and shook his head to remove the drowsiness, went over his notes and flipped through intelligence briefings. Suddenly, he balled his hands into fists and pounded the table in frustration. Then he jumped up, pushed the chair back, and yelled in rage, and flipped the table, causing papers to go everywhere. Still frustrated, he walked to a wall and pounded his head against it, but quickly turned when he felt a presence behind him.

  Jamie stood at the door with food and water. She gave him a supportive smile, and her eyes showed she understood. He was used to having CIA resources, but now he was on his own. She fixed the table, placed the tray on it, and headed toward him. Erik rubbed his fingers through his hair, and he felt hopeless. He needed more than Jamie’s support.

  “When I was with the agency we were taught to fight and taught to win,” he told her. “We all worked together as a team, and we had unlimited resources to get the job done.” He fell to the ground, held his head in his hands then looked up into her eyes. “But I can’t win this one.”

  She knelt beside him and hugged him tightly while she rubbed his back and kissed his head. “I found this in the history book.” She pulled back and handed him a color photograph. “Who are those people?”

  He smirked and pointed at Alan. “You know Alan.” She nodded and smiled, and he moved his finger left-to-right to identify everyone. “This is Paul, my section chief at Langley.” He paused his finger on each individual. “This is Gary, he was a hacker; this is John, he did operation and simulation support; next is Carly, who made disguises and fabricated identifications.” With a smug look, he added, “And that’s me when I first joined the agency.”

  “Was that the team you worked with?”

  Erik nodded.

  “When was that?”

  “1999 to 2005.”

  “What was your position?”

  “I was a Paramilitary Operations Officer.”

  “But you can’t tell me what you did?”

  “You know I can’t.”

  She sat back on her heels, tilted her head, and observed him. “Do you think you’ll be able to save Hitler’s life?”

  “No.”

  “Think positive.”

  Erik snorted. “I’m being realistic.” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  He said nothing.

  “Please share with me.”

  “One time I was called into Bonesteiner’s office for my evaluation, and he read something that Alan wrote in my evaluation after I did my first op.” Erik closed his eyes and recalled the words: “Erik has an amazing curiosity that scares me acutely. He never stops asking questions until he fully understands and sees all angles. He’s strong mentally and has hope that he can make this a better world. Because of that amazing trait and inspiration, he has awakened me to keep going, and reminded me that what I’m doing with him must be done.”

  Jamie smiled at him. “Babe, Alan believed in you then, and I believe in you now.”

  He grinned back at her, laid his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes.

  But could he believe in himself?

  21. ON HIS OWN

  “All the knowledge I possess about history makes everyone think I am odd and different, but with what is in my heart, I can make a difference, even though I feel I am on my own.”

  — Erik Foge

  Audrieu, France. 2200 hours

  Erik stood in front of a mirror in a German major’s tunic. He adjusted everything: shoulder boards, ribbons, collar tabs, belt, and everything else. Like so many times before, Erik stared at his reflection in a poorly lit bathroom. There was no question what had to be done, and there was no turning back, just as it was when he was a part of an O.G.D.S. Team. In his mind, Erik calculated his assessment of his abilities and his odds for a successful mission. Normally, he would go over the objectives of the mission from start to finish, but not this time. Once he reached Berlin he would do that, but not before. Jamie’s perfume drifted behind him. He turned. She looked him over like a drill sergeant during a uniform inspection. She tried to contain her tears, stepped forward, adjusted his lapel, and brushed something off his shoulder.

  “Thank you.”

  They exited the bathroom and headed to the bed. Erik reached underneath it, grabbed the MP-44 and extra magazines and placed them on the bed, then he pulled the magazine from the MP-44, checked that it was full, then slammed it back in and slid the bolt back to load a bullet into the chamber. He reached for the Luger, did the same to it, and then placed it in his holster. Finally, he shouldered the MP-44 and turned to face his fiancé.

  Tears trickled down her face. Erik strolled over to her, slowly lifted her head and kissed her gently. Then he wiped her tears away, stared into her eyes, and saw the same look she gave him every time he had to go away. “I promise I’ll be back,” he said, as he had every other time. This time, though, she knew exactly what he was going to do. And she knew there was a chance Erik wouldn’t ever be coming back.

  “How are you so sure?” Jamie said as she sobbed.

  “When I was away all those times before, when we were dating, your love drove me to succeed so I could come back to you.”

  She sniffed and wiped her wrist across her eyes. “Well, this time you need to come back for both of us.”

  A frown stretched over Erik’s face. “Both?” he whispered.

  Jamie nodded with a fragile smile.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  A smile blossomed and enveloped her face. She nodded again.

  Erik paused, trying to come up with the right words to say.

  “One-four-three-seven,” she said.

  Jamie’s been saying this ever since he has known her, but Erik still had no clue what it meant. He frowned and once again tried to work it out.

  Jamie kissed him and then explained: “I love you forever.”

  He reached for her hand. She squeezed it tightly and they walked out of their room and exited the château into a night full of chirping insects. Valensky, with his arms crossed, waited outside, leaning on a Kübelwagen. He strolled over to Erik and helped him by placing the MP-44 in the front passenger seat and gave him a map with an outline of the route he would take to Berlin. Valensky pulled Erik to the side, leaving Jamie at the door.

  “Are you sure you won’t be needing my help?”

  Erik cupped Valensky’s shoulder. “Yes.” They hugged in friendship. “You’re helping me by letting Jamie stay with you until I come back.”

  Valensky acknowledged Erik’s gratitude with a nod. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course,” Erik said.

  “I’ve met a few OSS agents during the war, but the knowledge you possess surpasses any of them. If you are going to work with them after the war, you’d be a great asset.”

  Erik shook his head.

  “No? They say one man can make a big difference.” Valensky peered at Erik, but he kept his expression neutral. “You’re the most unique individual I’ve ever met.”

  “Really?” Erik quirked an eyebrow.

  “Yes.” A knowing grin came across Valensky’s face. “Be honest with me, how did you know when Paris was going be liberated and that Operation Market Garden was going to fail?”

  “A lucky guess?” Erik replied with a shrug.

  Valensky’s eyes narrowed but remained friendly as he said in disbelief, “No. You’re a time traveler, aren’t you? That’s how you know all this.”

  Erik gave Valensky’s arm a friendly punch. “You know my secret.”

  They both chuckled.

  “Wouldn’t it be neat if time travel really were possible and we could change history,” Valensky said.

  Erik shrugged.

  “If you could go back in time, would you make it where the Germans lose the air war over Great Britain?”

  “Keep dreaming; never going to happen.” Erik patted Valensky’s shoulder and got into the Kübelwagen.

  “Do you think Germany will st
art another war?” Valensky asked through the window.

  Erik snickered and shook his head. “No.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “The allied powers wouldn’t want to give Germany an opportunity to re-arm as they did in the 1930s. I think it might be a different world after this war is over.” Valensky gestured for Erik to explain himself. He continued, “Allies will become enemies and enemies will become allies. For example, do you remember the Napoleonic Wars?”

  “Of course.”

  “During that time, England and Prussia were allies against France, and nearly one hundred years later the Great War started, but that time France and England were allies against Germany.”

  “You have an interesting way of explaining history.”

  Erik explained. “The most important lesson is that history has three views: My view, your view, and the truth.”

  “I never saw history in that way before, but I have to agree with you.” Valensky glanced at his watch. “It is time for you to go. Take care, my friend. Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  Valensky stepped back and Jamie walked toward the car, sobbing. Erik hopped out and raced toward her. They embraced tightly; she grabbed his hand, pulled his fingers away from his palm, placed something in his hand, and closed it.

  “This will give you the courage to continue and bring you luck,” she whispered.

  They embraced again, and Erik rubbed her back to comfort her. He whispered in her ear that he loved her so much, then stared into her sobbing eyes, and they kissed deeply, knowing it could be for the last time.

  “I have to go,” Erik said, as he pulled away.

  Jamie nodded and they strolled to the Kübelwagen. Erik got in and cranked over the air-cooled motor. The car chugged into life. He looked through the window to Jamie with Valensky by her side, and said, “One-four-three-seven.” She repeated the numbers back to him, and a smile wiped away her tears. Erik waved and drove into the night.

  The Kübelwagen’s headlights pierced the endless darkness and flashed on the trees that lined the road, their branches already naked. Erik glanced to the right and left, but saw nothing but open land beyond. Even though he was well rested, he was alone, and so he thought of random things to keep himself awake and focused.