At last she said something I could say yes to and I did. She hooked her arm behind my neck, stood on her tiptoes and kissed me one last time. A smile followed the kiss then she hopped into her taxi and they drove off, back past the dock. Bebe did not look back.
M2 came up to me and put an arm around my shoulder. “You get a gold star for today, even though you had all the fun.”
They were kind enough to remain silent on the drive to the airport, leaving me to my own thoughts. In the air once again, we configured our seats so we could talk things over.
“For a while, back there, I thought you might be ready to jump ship,” M2 said, with a mischievous smile, “and she may be worth it. Seriously though, now that you've had a good taste of the world we inhabit, it's time to share those inner feelings.”
“This is all subject to change,” I said, “considering my short time on the job. I can say that the past few days have been exciting, interesting, eye-opening and even life changing. I could handle it better if only I were younger. I'm an old man intruding into your world and I will be forever grateful. You all have rescued me from retirement. It's fantastic to know that some great adventure still waits for me just over the next hill. I wouldn't trade today for anything, although, as a veteran, I reserve the right to bitch about it.”
“I think you've got a pretty good handle on the important things,” M1 said. “We have an extensive set of rules in the FBI and we also carry another set of rules laid down by society, friends, family and experience. At times they conflict, but so be it. If you're worthwhile, no one needs to tell you the difference between good and evil. The only problem is that there are many gray areas, like the fat man looking at the big bowl of ice cream. If he eats it there is guilt and remorse, but there is always redemption. What I'm saying is don't kick yourself if you make a bad call.”
M2 glanced at his watch. “Harry said he is in overdrive for the return trip. It won't be all that long until we land. Perhaps we should discuss the business at hand.”
“Good idea,” M1 said. “Alice gets the bar of soap. We'll let the eggheads figure it out. Headquarters is busy digging out the information on the remains of the Harz Mountain facilities. We'll have a stack of stuff to go over when we arrive. We've learned that The Secret Path was the code name for the escape route from Germany to Egypt, then to a still unknown destination in South America. We've narrowed the search area for the Hollow Mountain. It looks to me like a trip to Germany.”
We were quiet for a time. “I remember,” I said, “that in Carl's notebook he wrote about discovering a missing railroad. I read that as him saying he located the roadbed of a road or spur line that had been torn up and removed. It could be it was a service road during the construction of the Hollow Mountain then removed to conceal its location.”
“Good man,” M2 said. “Keep those gray cells working.”
“Okay,” I said, “During the war years, several million aerial photographs were taken of many places in Europe, including the Harz Mountains. Not many in the early years of the war, but all we need is one that shows a rail line in that area, up until 1943 or so. It would be a line that disappears from photos taken in 1944 or 1945.”
M1 got back on his phone and asked Alice to get access to the aerial maps. When he told her why, her response made him smile. He didn't mention the bar of soap.
“The boss is happy,” he said after signing off. “Let us celebrate before landing with a fine Columbian brew.”
“And perhaps a short nap?” I inquired.
CHAPTER 12
“Amazing,” Alice said, as we entered her temporary office. “We're scrambling to keep up with you wizards.”
“Shucks, little lady,” M2 said, in Texas style, “twarn't nutthin’.”
“Your modesty underwhelms me,” she said. “Anyway, there's a specialty group now doing a map search and they think they'll have an answer in a matter of hours. Wesley is still tearing his hair out over that laptop. Unless you have more you can go and freshen up and then join me for a late dinner. We'll try to make some plans. Odds are you’ll be buzzing off to Germany as soon as we catch our breath.”
“We do have one more extremely interesting item for you,” M1 said, while displaying our big find. “We call it the bar of soap.”
“Bar of soap, eh?” Alice squinted at the little object, then glanced at each of us, noting our total attention. “I hope you're not suggesting that I need a shower.”
M1 let her hold it for a moment, then retrieved it and touched a dot. “Here, hold this, but get a good grip because it now wants to move.”
Her reaction was what we expected. Her mouth opened wide and her eyes opened wider. M1 then filled in the blanks. “It must have an awesome power source, but it's your problem now.”
“What the hell have we discovered?” Alice said. “I need to turn it off. Show me which dot to touch.” Now behaving properly, she put it in her desk drawer and dusted her hands, glad to have it out of sight. “Jesus, and I don’t mean the cat. Some people here won’t be sleeping tonight. It’s like the Manhattan Project, there in my desk. Carl was right when he wrote that he had no answers to the many questions the Government would ask.”
“Where's Jean?” I asked.
“On the firing range,” Alice answered. “Why don't you all go get her before you go back to the hotel? I'll pick you up about 7:00 p.m.. Tonight we go to a steak house. Right now I have to go and give the director a bar of soap. This is a stunner.”
Jean was just finishing her session when we arrived. She looked excited and her eyes sparkled as she cleared her weapon and backed out of the booth.
“Hi, guys,” she called out, as soon as she saw us. “Have a good trip?” In response she received three thumbs up. “I only get a 38 automatic and a dinky derringer, and I only get to carry them if we leave the country. I guess I'm just a dainty little lady with delicate wrists. Did you notice that all the instructors here are men? Did you notice that I am the only woman on our team of four? Is this fair? You had better wipe those grins off your grubby faces. Why haven't you shaved?”
With that we all raised our hands in universal surrender. She gave me a solid hug that I returned willingly, but warily. I always feared that the females of our species have senses that are missing in the males. Was there some way Jean could sense the presence of Bebe? Some scent or some muscle reaction or some mystical aura? Somehow I skated on this one. I thanked my lucky stars as we escorted Jean from the big bad man's firing range.
At the hotel, I showered and changed into clean clothes, which were just about the same as those I took off. I heard a tapping at my door. It was Jean who always was a fast dresser. She came in and sat on the edge of the bed while I was buffing my shoes.
“No one made any jokes about Bebe,” she said. “What was she like?”
There I was on the spot again. It would be easy to lie. What would the other James Cagney do? Indeed, what would the elderly James Bond do? My answer was that he would not have tolerated any third degree. I tossed down my shoe brush and walked over to where Jean was sitting. “Someday I may tell you all about Bebe and the four dazzling hours that I knew her, but first I have to digest meeting her and M1 and M2 and Alice and the many things that have happened in the last few days including having you back in my life. That's how it is babe, okay?”
She stood up, snaked her right arm around my neck, just as Bebe had done and planted one right on my big mouth. I was conflicted and I’m sure Jean noticed because she pulled back. “Sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Someone tapped on the door. It was Alice and the boys. I don’t think they noticed anything.
“I'm starved,” M2 said. “Today's my day to make a pig of myself.”
“Just today?” Alice asked, with raised eyebrows. She gave us a quick rundown on the eruption caused by the bar of soap. We could only hope it was not our problem anymore.
Everyone was in high spirits. The talk was solely on food on the
way to the steak house. The aforementioned steak house was a big surprise. It consisted of a large grill made from two fifty-gallon drums and a two-wheel cart loaded with drinks, paper plates, condiments and premixed salad. A large, bearded black man manipulated the steaks and potatoes on the grill while singing along with the music from an elderly boom box resting on a sack of charcoal. We were in a small public park on the corner of I Don't Know Street and Where am I Boulevard. The customers were a mix of locals in jeans and sophisticates like us, but everyone was having a good time.
Alice introduced us to her favorite chef, Bruce. We received a left-handed shake because his right hand was busy with a large fork. We loaded up and found an empty picnic bench near the entertainment and dug in. It's surprising how really good food can stimulate one's appetite. The conversation was groans of pleasure and the occasional burp until we had cleaned our plates and licked our fingers. M2 pulled out five splendid Cohiba cigars that we turned to ash in short order. Out there, under the stars, we solved no problems big or small, but we did have another Batts times two evening. Life was coming at me like a fabulous feast, but I needed more time to savor each morsel.
It was about 10:00 p.m. when Alice's phone played, There's No Business Like Show Business. It was time to go. While we were waiting for a cab on Where am I Boulevard, a young man approached with a case containing a fine selection of glittering wristwatches. I selected an attractive black metal analog, glow-in-the-dark Ralex knockoff and parted with a twenty-dollar bill that disappeared rapidly along with the vendor and his case.
Jean, who watched in silence, made the tisk tisk noise while pointing to my purchase. “James, may I point out that the watch is a Ralex and not a Rolex.”
“May I point out that I only paid twenty bucks for this little gem?” I puffed out my chest. “I now own a watch any commando would love to possess. One of these days you'll come and ask me for the time, then you'll be sorry.”
During my harangue, a taxi found us.
As we pulled away from the curb, Alice said, “Jeez, James, we issue terrific, free watches to all of our agents. All you have to do is ask.”
“Can you take a Ralex in trade?”
As we motored down the street, our laughter floated out of all four windows to mingle with the night sounds drifting down Where am I Boulevard.
CHAPTER 13
There was a good-sized crowd present when we arrived at Alice's office. I saw an assortment of guys and gals bent over the main table, littered with a hodgepodge of terrain maps and aerial photography. Alice introduced us all around, but I didn't remember any names. I have a built-in fault in my short-term memory.
The leader of the group was a bookish looking man nearing fifty with a very shiny bald head. He had a fringe of dark fuzz that wrapped the back of his head from ear to ear. He was friendly, though, and very good at pointing out land features and explaining details.
“Here,” he began, “is an aerial photograph of your area of interest around Nordhausen, taken in October of 1923. This area marked in red, shows only trees and mountainous terrain. There is a railroad, but it's over here about two kilometers away. The next photo is of the same area taken in July of 1942. You can plainly see a new rail segment coming from the existing line, up to the base of this hill. This last photograph, taken in June of 1945, shows no railroad there, not even a roadbed. Everything was as before.”
Alice had picked up the photo in question. “This photo was taken by a P-38 reconnaissance plane.”
The group leader looked rather startled. “How could you know that? I don't see any part of the plane.”
She graced him with a toothy grin. “Well, you can see that from the angle of attack and the altitude that it could not be a Thunderbolt, but mostly I know because it says so on the back.”
Her crew chuckled dutifully and Alice snorted.
Not quite sure of what had just happened, the crew leader looked confused.
“On the second photo,” I said, while spreading them out, “I see what appear to be the ruins of an old factory or something near the end of the line. I also see it through the trees on the most recent photo, but I can't see it on the earlier 1923 photo.”
“Well, it is a bit fuzzy,” the group leader said, “and perhaps it was hidden by the vegetation. We do have an agent on the ground there and he wired us some photos he took just a few hours ago.” He pulled some 8x10 color prints from a manila envelope and passed them around. “As you can see, they are not too informative. Here's a shot of what should have been the roadbed and two shots of the old factory ruin. The design of the ruin make it to be at least one hundred and fifty years old.”
We kept looking. I tried and failed again to spot the old ruin on the 1923 picture. It soon became obvious we would learn no more from the maps and photos. The group left us with the material and departed.
“Okay,” Alice said, “all in favor of going to Germany say JA!”
We all said, “JA!”
“Then we go,” Alice slammed her hand on the table, “on our own passports as tourists. I've made the arrangements. Meet me at Bill’s Garage ASAP.”
On the way out, M2 said, “Meet you? Does this mean you're going too?”
“You're just too curious, you are,” Alice said. “Wait and see. I have to stop by the Director's office. He has some questions about the bar of soap. I doubt that I can help.”
We left at a fast march. On the way to the hotel the boys advised Jean and me about what to bring and not to bring. We were learning fast, but there was just so darn much to know.
CHAPTER 14
Alice was there waiting for us as we entered through the same small corner door at Bill's Garage. Our pilot, Harry, was there, waiting for us behind the same worn desk, befouling the air with the same old briar.
We were traveling again by private jet, but this time the little tractor was waiting for us with a larger aircraft on the end of its tow bar. This transport also had fuel pods slung under both wings. It looked like a non-stop flight.
We were well away from Washington when our swashbuckling pilot joined us. This was a surprise because on the last trip we never saw him except when the plane was on the ground. When he went to tip his hat to the girls I had a thought. Ah-haa, old Harry still has an eye for the ladies.
A few minutes later, Harry wandered over to me and said in a confidential tone, “You one lucky hombre.”
“The dice are still rolling, pal,” I said. “We shall see.”
He gave me a smile and returned to his cabin where he stayed for the remainder of the trip.
I sidled over to Jean. “Harry said I was one lucky hombre. I wonder why he said that.”
Jean demonstrated her perfect memory. “Someday I may tell you all about Harry and the four dazzling minutes that I knew him, but first I have to digest meeting him and M1 and M2 and Alice and the many things that have happened in the last few days including having you back in my life. That's how it is, babe, okay?”
Alice rapped her knuckles on a food tray. “Let's have a conference. Swing your seats around as close as possible.” There was some shuffling, but we soon had a tight little group gathered towards the back. “First, the director wants us to forget about the bar of soap. And I mean really forget, okay? Of course, that applies to our conversations with others. Our code names, if we need to use them. M1 is M1, M2 is M2, Harry, our pilot, is Smokey, Jean will be Mizrat, as in Mrs. Rat, Jim will be Dirty Rat and I am, uh—Stinky. James, I see that look on your face and you had better swallow any comments pronto. My mom called me her little Stinky. So did my dad. So did all my friends. The whole world called me Stinky when I was a kid and that's all you need to know. Now, I know you're wondering why I came along.”
M1 and M2 nodded. Jean and I just raised our eyebrows and shrugged.
“Office politics,” Alice said, looking at Jean and me. “A big part of my job is to act as liaison and a shield between you guys and those above me. Most of the people I report to are fundame
ntally good guys, but they are subject to murderous political pressures. A couple of bastards infest executive positions and these are among those we are avoiding.
“Until now these people are happy with our performance. However, as they got glimpses of the potential treasure that Manheim is after; some of them could not resist passing some of the information on up the political channels. The bar of soap will only exacerbate the problem. There is always a race to be first to get the credit. Now that the investigation is no longer contained within the FBI, some very influential and powerful political figures are sniffing around and asking questions.”
“You're in hiding,” Jean said. “You're on the lam with us. This is really weird and wild.”
“If they can't talk to me,” Alice said, “I don't have to tell any lies.”
“How about your cell phone?” I asked.
“Static, lots of static. Sunspots and all that. No one can fault us for being unavailable. They can suspect, but they can't prove a thing, we've done this before.” After settling that point, she went on, “We're flying into Leipzig where a man named Fritz will be waiting. He is the German equivalent of Bebe although he is American by birth.
“As I mentioned, we are going as ourselves, but we are tourists on vacation. If we get caught in an underground factory, we'll just say we stumbled upon it by accident. Our plan of action is sketchy. We go there, look around and see what we can find. While we are in Germany, our chain of command is as follows: M1 is the captain in charge of everything. M2 is his adjutant and we three are the troops that will obey orders. If I don't like anything, I can always get even later on. Fritz will meet us at the airport and we'll motor to the area indicated on the map. We have tool kits, food and water canteens in the luggage compartment. We'll all take a set. Any questions?”
I raised my hand. “After seeing a dead body in Colón, I need to talk a bit about the potential dangers we may face. Jean and I are very green, maybe there are things we should know that would lessen any risk.”
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