Authors: Alan Bricklin
"I've seen her picture. She's beautiful, General."
"Yes, she is. I had planned to bring her picture to
your Mr. Templeton personally, but when it seemed unlikely that I could make
the journey here, I thought it best to send it by courier. Luckily, at the last
minute I was able to leave my position in northern Italy and arrange to cross
the border into Switzerland. Since you've seen it, I assume it has arrived
safely and you have it."
"I memorized the face and the password - counter
password written on the back, then returned it to the OSS agent that showed it
to me. That could have been Templeton, I wouldn't know; he never said his name.
I can understand your wanting to protect her."
"I would give my life to protect her, but like all the
others you do not really understand the situation, you misinterpret what you
see. Maria is the daughter of an officer who served for many years under my
command, and I have known her since she was born; she is my goddaughter. I know
about the various rumors that she is my mistress, my secret love. Well, it is
no secret that I love her, but it is the love of a father for a daughter. My
wife and daughter are both dead, victims of allied bombs. British, American, it
doesn't matter. War is what it is, and dead is dead; let the philosophers deal
with the subtleties and the survivors with the pain. Maria's parents are also
dead, the sad consequence of a warped and misbegotten policy of ethnic purity.
Her father, Johan, the most loyal and honorable soldier it has been my pleasure
to know, married a woman of Italian descent. They met while he was on holiday in
Rome. Unfortunately for the young couple, she was Jewish. Her parents were
against the marriage and it was a most unpleasant situation. They refused to
relent, even after the most heartfelt, persistent supplication of the lovers.
Maria's mother was a strong woman, and although painful, she left all that was
familiar, severed the emotional ties that had sustained her and returned to
Germany with the man she loved. They were married almost immediately and the
next year Maria was born. The early years were ones of bliss, even to the point
of the beginnings of a rapprochement with her parents. Grandchildren have
always been the great peacemakers. Sadly, it was not to last. When Hitler's
thugs began to purge the country of Jews, Gypsies and other 'undesirables' her
mother spoke out. Johan pleaded with her to stop, although I think that inside
he believed in what she was doing and was proud of her even though he was very
fearful for the safety of his family. At first he was able to protect her from
the low level political sycophants that had begun to harass her, but when her
actions were noticed by the SS, who also found out about her Jewish background,
and the dossier they had amassed was passed on to the party higher ups, the end
was rushing towards her. The first thing they did was to demote Johan and raise
questions about his loyalty. He was removed from any meaningful command
position and sent on the most dangerous of assignments. This he accepted
willingly under the mistaken notion that the more difficult and the more
dangerous the tasks he accomplished, the more likely they would be to believe
his loyalty and, by extension, that of his wife. Being a good, honest soul,
Johan's main fault was his naiveté, and he did not see that they simply wanted
him dead but did not want to do it in a way that would overly alienate the
officer corps. Finally, they sent him and two others to blow up a bridge held
by the Russians. The objective was of no real military importance, it was
simply a suicide mission to insure that he was killed or taken prisoner by the
Russians, which would amount to the same thing."
At the mention of "suicide mission" Larry winced,
and Schroeder, ever a commander who empathized with his men, placed his arm on
Larry's shoulder and said with the authority of a General, "What you are
going to do is far from useless; it will be one of the most important
operations of this conflict. Do you understand that?"
Larry could only nod; there were no words he could say.
"Once Johan was killed in action they could move with
impunity. How could a military man raise his voice in protest? Men were killed
in war; that was understood. The SS arrested her as she left her house. They
knew she had a daughter but didn't seem to care about her. Her mother and
father were the potential problems and now they would both be silenced. When
Maria returned from school that day, her neighbor, a wily old lady from a long
line of military types who knew my family, whisked her into her house and kept
her hidden until she could get a message to me. The old lady didn't know if
Maria was to be a target also, so she held her out of sight. She was a smart
woman and would have made a good officer herself. By the time I was able to
leave the front and go to her, it was obvious that the SS and the party had
closed the books on this affair and had no interest in Maria. As her godfather
I was the closest thing to family that she had in Germany so I took her under
my wing and moved her to Munich where I had friends and one maiden aunt. After
a number of months moving from one grudging host to another I set her up in her
own apartment, a safer and better controlled situation. With the war coming to
an end soon, she is once again in danger, not only from allied bombs but also
from the lawless chaos that may soon prevail. When you bring out the plutonium,
you have also to bring Maria. That is the price I must ask."
"General, I will do my best. No, I'll do more than
that. I will make it happen. You have my word. You know, we've just met but I
want to tell you ... well, I just want to say that if things were different I
would be honored to serve under your command any day."
"I understand and you should know that that is the
highest compliment you could pay me." They had paused on the trail,
already some distance from the take off point so they turned for the return
walk. "There is one more thing I need to tell you and that is how you are
to get Maria to take you to the hiding place of the plutonium. You are to ask
her to take you to the place where we had a picnic the day after she moved into
her apartment. It is some ten kilometers outside of town."
"You're sure she'll remember this place and how to get
there?"
"When she travels she is very aware of where she is and
the route that she takes, and besides, she will probably remember that place
all her life. On the property there is a deserted barn, which we explored
during a brief rain, and while looking around she tripped over the handle to a
trap door that was hidden under the straw covering the dirt floor. Maria fell,
grazing her neck on an old pitchfork. A few more centimeters and she would have
been impaled. That incident left her with the scars of two puncture wounds on
the back of her neck and we used to joke about how she was bitten by a vampire.
She won't forget. Several weeks later I returned to that barn to see what was
beneath the trap door, and found a storage vault about ten meters long, lined
with stone and covered by a substantial appearing wood roof. It seemed a
perfect place to hide the plutonium, a cargo that was becoming too dangerous to
keep near my command. The next week two of my most trusted aides helped me
transport the packing crate there. You will need to pry off the top and remove
the plutonium from its lead shielding. The trap door is in the northwest corner
of the barn hidden under dirt and straw." Schroeder paused and looked out
across the lake, toward the far shore, toward his homeland, invisible, shrouded
by the night and obscured by the random mists swirling above the dark waters.
"Had I known saboteurs would destroy the ferry, none of this would have
been necessary."
"I've stopped trying to think about 'what ifs.' It's
too much like banging your head against the wall, there's just no percentage in
it."
"If I could do this myself, I would. My final act, a
suitable end to my career."
"Don't even bother thinking about it, sir. Like I said,
'There's no percentage in it.'"
They were almost at their starting point and Larry could see
his CO at the shore line next to a small wooden boat, talking to two men, no
doubt members of the resistance group who would transport him across the lake
to Germany and the beginning of his quest. As they approached, the CO looked up
and remarked to Larry, "You were gone a long time; the two of you must have
been getting kind of chummy. I thought maybe you decided to go it on your
own." His distaste at the presence of a German officer was apparent in the
tone of his voice. "Your gear has already been loaded and they're anxious
to get going. Just walk me back to the jeep; I have something that OSS guy gave
me for you. Probably some last minute instructions. When they reached the
vehicle he took a sealed envelope from the seat and handed it to Larry who
unceremoniously ripped it open, unfolded the single sheet of paper within and
read, "The plutonium must be brought back at all costs. Your country is
depending on you. The girl is of no real importance —— do not let
her slow you down and do not hesitate to leave her behind." He reached in
his pocket, pulled out a match, and after striking it to life on the edge of
his thumbnail touched it to the corner of the paper, which ignited and was
quickly consumed. The CO did not ask about the note. All of the men and women
that used his clandestine base to train left with secrets best known only to
them and whoever ordered them into harm's way. He wanted no part of what they
took with them and he pitied them their solitary lives of secrecy and shadows,
especially Larry, his death a foregone conclusion, only the manner of his exit
uncertain. Failure and a slow, painful death at the hands of the Nazis, or
success and a slow painful death from the proximity of the plutonium with which
he returned. The Captain shuffled his feet, trying to think of something to say
to him, someway to offer words of encouragement or perhaps condolence, but no
thoughts came and no words were brought forth, so he watched in silence as
Larry turned and walked back to the small boat at the shore of Lake Constance.
Shifting into operational mode he surveyed his supplies and limited equipment
to make sure it was all there, then swung around to face General Schroeder,
came to attention and saluted him. His salute was promptly and smartly
returned. Two soldiers who loved their countries, two men who believed in truth
and honor, two men who knew that morality was a concept that transcended
nationality. They stood facing each other. Two dead men.
Larry helped the two resistance fighters shove off, then
hopped on board while one of them started a small muffled outboard motor. As
they pulled away, Larry took a small pill from an unmarked container, something
to alleviate his symptoms the doctor had said. He swallowed it and turned to
face Germany.
Once more Kent found himself on the train to Lugano, sipping coffee
and watching the sun break through the clouds lingering over the surrounding
alpine peaks. This would be the last time he met with Waldman. Operation
Crossword was underway and their plan to divert the plutonium had been laid
out; he had only to pass the operational details to Gerhard who, along with
Julian, would run the remainder of the mission, meeting up at the rendezvous
point where commodity and money changed hands. They would then each go their
own way, each carrying away their prize. At least, that's what they expected.
Waldman's a sharp cookie. I respect that. Doesn't have
the humanity or compassion that someone like Templeton has, but maybe that's
just the difference between Americans and Germans. But you got to respect him.
He's a sharp cookie.
As the train sped on, a stately looking villa on a low hill
caught his eye and Kent's thoughts changed to what he could do with the money
that would soon be his, how he might impress Helen's parents and make her proud
of him. He felt her arms around him, squealing with delight at their good
fortune, her body pressed tightly against his and the scent of her hair filling
his nostrils. Life could be good. The monotonous click of the rails, like a
hypnotic suggestion, encouraged further daydreaming before finally lulling him
to sleep.
Before entering the station the engine slowed to a crawl,
stopped for a minute while several railroad workers conferred about which track
the train should use to enter the terminal, then, when the correct switches had
been thrown, lurched forward and inched its way into the station. It was the
sudden jerking of the cars as the train resumed its forward motion that woke
Kent. He was momentarily disoriented and surprised that he had fallen asleep. A
quick trip to the washroom at the front of the car, some cold water splashed on
his face and several grimaces as he held his hands to his cheeks, made him feel
closer to actually being awake, although somehow he still felt disconnected
from the world of those around him.
The train lumbered to its final stop, the loud hiss of
escaping steam like the roaring sigh of a monstrous beast of burden that had
completed some arduous task and now intended to sit for a good long while. Kent
was out of his seat like a bolt and was the first to lower himself to the
platform. However, he stopped, still standing next to the train, steam swirling
around his feet and wondered why he had hurried off the train. It was as if
falling asleep had in some way made him late and now he had to make up the lost
time, rushing to some appointment that he might miss. Odd, he thought, that he
should think in such a way; the train had arrived on time and the meeting could
not begin until he was there. It was a strange day.
Kent adjusted his coat and walked toward the main entrance
of the station. Julian had told him just to head toward the usual meeting place
and someone would contact him and guide him to the new location. The sky was
peppered with deep gray clouds with intervening patches of clear blue, and as
the clouds scudded by, the light changed from dark to featureless milky white
to a clear brilliant brightness and then back to gloom again. He crossed the
large square in front of the station and was approaching a checkerboard pattern
of tables outside a café when he noticed an attractive woman leave her seat,
step onto the sidewalk and walk towards him with a purposeful stride.
Recognition took only a second. It was Waldman's woman, the one whose picture
he had brought back to Julian and who would assume the role of General
Schroeder's ward.