Authors: John Anthony Miller
In Satan's Shadow (20 page)
Workers toiled in the Braun family garden, tediously correcting years of neglect. They removed dead and dying foliage, trimmed and shaped overgrown shrubs, and pruned trees whose limbs stretched in unintended directions. Flower beds were weeded and renewed with scarlet roses accented by golden daisies, white chrysanthemums, and lavender hyacinths. Masons repaired a flagstone walkway, replacing the mortar between the joints, and fixed the flower bed retaining walls which had crumbled in several places. After a few days of intense activity, the gardens were starting to look like they once did, rivaling those of the neighbors.
“How does this dress look?” Astrid asked her mother. It was the third change of clothes she had modeled.
Mrs. Braun turned from the twelve-pane window that overlooked the garden. She cast a final glance at the mason, ensuring his work was performed to her satisfaction, and then studied her daughter’s apparel, admiring how the dress hugged her frame. Gerhard Faber was coming for dinner that evening, and she wanted to keep the subtle seduction alive.
“I suppose it’s all right,” Mrs. Braun said, although her face showed she didn’t think so. “But I like the light gray dress better, the one that’s low cut. You have such a nice shape, Astrid. Why hide it?”
Astrid blushed. “It shows too much cleavage.”
Mrs. Braun could imagine Gerhard Faber stealing peeks down her daughter’s dress throughout dinner, imagining the prize obtained if he was patient. She smiled. Her goal was to never let him get there.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’re entertaining a very interested suitor in the comfort of your own home. You should be comfortable. Go change. Put on the gray dress.”
Astrid shrugged and headed for the steps. She never questioned her mother’s judgment. Even though they both knew exactly what Gerhard Faber’s motives were.
For the past week, Mrs. Braun had been checking on her daughter’s latest love interest. She still had some influence in the government, although limited and primarily with minor officials. Given that, she really couldn’t determine much. He did play viola for the Berlin String Quartet, which he claimed was his true passion. That had been easy to verify. But she couldn’t ascertain if he was the wealthy industrialist and Nazi Party insider he claimed to be. And she couldn’t find his residence, which he said was on Schwanenwerder Island in Wannsee Lake. He even said Goebbels lived only a few houses away. But it really didn’t matter who or what Faber was. She didn’t think he would be a permanent fixture in Astrid’s life.
*
Gerhard Faber cursed loudly and slammed the cap on the corner post of the iron fence. Remembering he was in a cemetery, he glanced around furtively to ensure no one had seen him. He stood there a moment with head bowed, appearing to pay his respects, before moving to a bench just across the lane.
The money left was much less than he expected, even after he had made his demands, and now he had to go to the Berlin Theater to get the rest. He sat there fuming, wondering what to do next. He waited a few minutes more, trying to calm himself, before deciding on a course of action.
He scribbled a note on a piece of paper and removed the last artillery shell drawing and one page of the rocket blueprint from his pocket, leaving the rest undisturbed. He went to the iron fence, looked in all directions for anything suspicious, and took the finial from the corner post.
He tucked the stern note he had written in the fencepost, along with the drawings. He would make his latest demand clear, no longer tolerating insolent behavior. And he meant it. There were other customers, Russians and Americans, who were more than willing to pay handsomely for what he had to offer.
On the way to the Braun’s house he stopped at the Berlin Theater. He made his way to the parking lot, wiggled behind the tree and removed the capstone, and found some more money inside. But it was still not as much as he expected. He left no drawings, because he had no intention of coming back to Berlin Theater. And that’s what the note in the cemetery had said.
The Brauns were expecting him for dinner. The workmen in the garden would be waiting for him. He had planned on using the money from the blueprints to pay them, funds he now didn’t have. He would have to make up the difference from his rent money. But then he would put his family at financial risk. He thought of his wife and children and, for a moment, he wondered why he endangered them by pretending to be someone he wasn’t, just to win the favors of Astrid Braun. There had to be a solution.
He changed tactics and returned to the garden wall, inserting the three other rocket drawings he had with him, the balance of the first delivery and a quarter of the total. He removed his original note, carefully considered what to say, and jotted down a message with a softer tone.
FIRST INSTALLMENT DELIVERED. PAY ACCORDINGLY OR NO MORE INFORMATION. THERE’S MUCH MORE AVAILABLE. CHECK CEMETERY FOR OTHER DRAWINGS AND ALL FUTURE COMMUNICATIONS.
When he returned to the cemetery on Sunday, he should have enough money to pay the rent and get his family’s finances on track. He mentally noted how many concerts the Berlin String Quartet had in the upcoming month, and then added his salary from the Armaments Department. He might make it, if they paid him appropriately for the drawings.
The information wasn’t as valuable as he originally thought. Only the plans for the rocket casing had crossed his desk. The internals and their intricate guidance systems were somewhere else, with other draftsmen. He could try to find them, but that was too risky. He had to find something else to offer, something the Allies had never seen before. Something that proved so valuable he would be rewarded handsomely. And he had to control Mrs. Braun. His wallet couldn’t keep up with her.
*
“Mr. Faber, I’m so delighted you’ve come for dinner again,” Mrs. Braun said as she opened the door. “The gardens look lovely, the best they have in years.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” he said as he entered. “I talked to the workmen on my way in. They are just finishing up.”
“They did a marvelous job,” Mrs. Braun said as she led him into the parlor. “Although they did mention some of the stone walkway on the other side of the house needs to be replaced. I suppose even stone breaks over time. The one workman said he could fix it all in a few days, and repair the steps at the rear entrance at the same time. I haven’t showed you that yet, but if I were you, I would get him to secure the railing, too. It’s loose right at the base. I think we would all feel terrible if someone grabbed that for support and fell and got hurt.”
“Yes, of course,” Faber said, the smile on his face hiding the queasiness in his stomach. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Astrid made a dramatic entrance, coming down the sweeping staircase, her hair short and tight to her head, the gray dress clinging to her body seductively. The low cut at the bosom attracted Faber’s immediate attention.
“Astrid, you look beautiful,” he said, his eyes wide with wonder.
She smiled and hugged him, just tightly enough that her breasts pushed against his chest. She kissed him on the lips, briefly, innocently letting her lips part slightly to offer a sensual moistness.
“It looks like the workmen are getting ready to leave,” Mrs. Braun said. “Did you want to speak to them, Gerhard?”
He was mesmerized by Astrid, but managed to break away. “Yes, yes of course,” he stammered. “Excuse me, Astrid. I’ll be right back.”
Amanda entered York’s hotel room late Friday morning, sat down at the table beside the window, and set another box of photographs on the table. Her face was drawn, the twinkle absent from her eye, the smile missing from her face.
York suspected what was wrong. “Have you heard from Kurt?”
“Yes, I have,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “He telephoned the other night. It’s the first I’ve heard from him since he left.”
“How’s he doing?”
She shrugged. “He seems to be enjoying himself. He wasn’t interested in any alternate plans I might have for him.”
York studied her face, feeling the pain in her voice. His eyes were searching, compassionate and sincere. He wanted to help. But he didn’t know how.
She looked at him, smiling weakly. It seemed she appreciated his unspoken concern.
He knew she was lonely, but for the first time he realized just how much. Years of neglect from her husband had taken its toll, and she had transferred her own hopes and dreams to her stepson. But he had dismissed them, never making them a part of him, as they were a part of her. And now her husband had abandoned her, finding other women to occupy his time. There was nothing for her in Berlin. She knew it, and so did York.
He watched her closely as she stared out the window, watching nothing in particular. She deserved more. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew it wasn’t what she had now.
He decided to shift her attention from Kurt. “Can I ask you a few questions about the other members of the quartet?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“Erika Jaeger.”
“She’s a close friend, although I don’t see her much anymore except at concerts.”
“Why is that? Did something happen?”
Amanda shook her head. “No, not at all. She just works so much. She has a government job at the War Ministry, but she also accepts any other work she can find. She cleans offices, works as a waitress, tutors children, whatever it takes to earn money.”
“I wonder why,” he prodded.
“Her mother is in poor health. Sometimes I spend a few hours with her, just so she has a companion while Erika is working. She’s a nice lady. I like her.”
York was quiet, thinking of the most manipulative way to ask the next question. “She must be very ill if her care is that expensive.”
“I suppose,” Amanda said, dismissing his statement. “I never thought about it. But Erika is a very caring person. Maybe she helps other family members, or her husband’s family. Before all the chaos she taught school, small children, I think. I’m not sure why she gave it up.”
“Why doesn’t she do that now?”
“I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t pay enough.”
York thought about the eight people Jaeger was hiding in her house. It had to take a considerable amount of money to support them, especially when buying food on the black market. No wonder she worked three or four jobs.
“She sounds like a truly remarkable person,” he said. It was an easy statement to make; he honestly believed it.
“She is.”
“How about Gerhard Faber?”
“I don’t know him that well, but he makes me feel uncomfortable. I’m not sure why. He likes to flirt with Erika, but she doesn’t respond. I don’t think she likes him.”
“Albert Kaiser?”
“He’s a good man, almost like a father to me. He likes to tell stories.”
“What type of stories?”
She smiled. “Albert has a story for everything. Just ask him.”
“Military background?”
She thought for a moment. “No, not that I know of.”
“Captain Klein?”
“A strange man. He pretends to be our manager, but I think his role is to observe us. He does have a military background. I believe he was stationed in France during the last war, and during the beginning of this one. But he’s too old to fight, so he returned to Berlin. He’s a friend of Albert’s. They live in the same apartment building.”
York had learned nothing new. The descriptions of all were consistent. And he shared them, even though he hadn’t met Faber and Klein. But he knew that would change.
He wondered if there was a connection between Kaiser and Klein, other than being neighbors. Maybe they had served in the military together as Jaeger had suggested. And maybe they were manipulating him and Max like puppets to support a secret scheme. But it didn’t seem plausible, not for an ex-military intelligence officer and a real estate investor.
“Can we talk about Manfred?” York asked quietly.
“I suppose,” she said tersely. “But I really have no contact with him anymore.”
“Do you know why he’s establishing routes to other countries? And why doesn’t Hitler know? Or does he?”
She looked out the window, watching the Nazi flags attached to the streetlamps blow in the summer breeze. She was embarrassed by how little she knew about her husband or what he actually did for the Nazi Party.
“I’ve been thinking about it for the last few days, and there are a lot of explanations. It could just be an effort to expand the Party’s global influence. Countries in South America have always been sympathetic to Hitler. They share common ideologies.”
“I suppose,” York said, still troubled. “But why all the effort? Is it to escape?”
She shrugged. “Maybe it is.”
“Is this something just Manfred and Bormann are involved in?”
She shook her head. “No, there are many others, from private industry and government. This isn’t the only thing Manfred does. He’s involved in everything from labor shortages to integration of occupied territories. That’s why he’s never home. He’s so busy.” She was quiet for a moment, reflecting. “He has other reasons for not being home,” she added softly. “But we haven’t talked about that yet.”
York knew Amanda would discuss her personal life when she was ready. He also realized that Richter was a major force in the Nazi Party and no one in the Allied intelligence organization even knew who he was. That had to change. Richter should be his focus, or the focus of another agent. He was much more valuable than drawings of an artillery shell.
Amanda stood reluctantly, gazing at York. “I should go. I need to practice for the concert tonight.” She hesitated, and looked out the window. “Something isn’t right, but I don’t know what it is. Maybe we should meet somewhere else next time.”
“Where do you suggest?”
“How about the park on Savignyplatz. At the entrance on Kantstrasse, near the southern side.”
It was where he had met Max, right near his boarding house. “Sunday morning?”
“Yes,” she said as she walked towards the door. “How about ten a.m.? I want to bring my camera. I can take pictures while we talk.”
