The Secret of Lions (13 page)

“Alexander, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, Heinrik, but they were not supposed
to come by this way for another forty minutes. They were supposed
to come by after I had sabotaged the spotlight. I’m sorry to have
to do this to you,” Alexander said, raising his pistol so that
Heinrik’s face was directly in its line of sight. “Now lower your
rifle.”

Heinrik feared lowering his gun, but he
could not see any other choice. He lowered the rifle slowly and let
it slip to the ground. He began to raise his hands into the air. He
did not know what to do now. Alexander’s nerves caused him to
tremble. He looked completely on edge. Heinrik suspected Alexander
had never shot anyone before, at least not a comrade.

“I’m going to have to shoot you, Heinrik,”
Alexander said.

“No! Wait!” Heinrik shouted.

A gunshot rang in their ears. It echoed with
a loud, cracking noise. It sounded distant, farther away than it
should have if it were fired from Alexander’s gun.

In the heat of panic, Heinrik squeezed his
eyes tightly shut. As he opened them he slowly realized he was not
shot. He looked up in relief. Looking at Alexander, he saw blood
gushing from his chest. Alexander’s body swayed forward, backward,
and then forward again.

Finally, he lowered his gun and stumbled
forward, close to going over the ledge. Abruptly, he grabbed onto
Heinrik with both hands, grasping his shoulders. The two of them
stumbled toward the edge together, and Alexander forced Heinrik to
fall over with him.

Together, they went over the side of the
wall into the depths of the prison’s yard. Heinrik saw the guard
from the opposite wall in a flash. The guard looked through a scope
at Heinrik and Alexander. He had seen Alexander pull a gun on
Heinrik. He had fired at the traitor. Now, he watched in shock as
Alexander fell to the prison yard below and took Heinrik with him.
They fumbled through the air and finally crashed onto the ground
together.

Heinrik heard the bones in his right leg
snap before he felt them shatter. He lay on top of Alexander’s
body, dazed and paralyzed. The moon appeared from behind the
clouds. It shone down on the yard. Heinrik watched it from where he
lay. A searing pain torpedoed through his body toward his feet.

At least I can still feel my toes
, he
thought. The relief of knowing that he was only temporarily
paralyzed gave him some comfort.

The feeling of comfort was cut short,
however, when he realized the escaping prisoners were still in his
proximity. He looked around, searching for any clue as to which
direction they would approach from. He feared an ambush.
Vigilantly, he studied the darkness that surrounded him. He saw
shuffling in the distance.

The prisoners saw a couple of dark figures
clumped near each other on the ground. Armed with shivs, the two
prisoners crept over to attack Heinrik.

Heinrik heard them getting closer. Quickly,
he pulled himself upright. The bones in his legs crackled as he
turned toward the approaching prisoners. He let out a shriek. He
knew that they were coming to kill him. He had to find a
weapon.

Hoping that Alexander’s gun fell with them,
Heinrik frantically began dragging himself toward Alexander’s body.
In the darkness, Heinrik could barely make out the shape of the gun
on the ground. He was within inches of it when he heard the
escapees getting closer. They were right behind him now.

Moments before Heinrik was intercepted by
the prisoners, he reached the gun. He rolled over onto his back and
aimed the gun at the closest prisoner. He squeezed the trigger
twice. The bullets ripped through the air and caught the first
prisoner in the chest as he lunged toward Heinrik. He fell onto the
ground.

The second prisoner realized that Heinrik
had a gun and began to retreat. A series of loud gunshots rang out
from the guard posted on the other wall. He shot the second
prisoner with a sniper rifle. The prisoner's body fell to the
ground near Heinrik.

Heinrik lowered the gun and rested his arm.
He took a deep breath. He could not believe he had survived the
entire ordeal. Suddenly, Alexander came to life and wrapped his
arms tightly around Heinrik’s neck, placing him in a headlock. The
two men wrestled for the gun. Heinrik felt the air being strangled
from his lungs. He fought hastily for the gun, but could barely
focus.

He felt his chest expanding as he fought to
inhale. He still couldn't breathe. Heinrik reared his arm up into
the air and came down hard. He elbowed Alexander straight in the
gut. Alexander slightly loosened his grip. Heinrik leaned forward,
trying to escape Alexander’s grasp. He had a small chance to escape
and survive.

Swiftly, Alexander tightened his hold around
Heinrik’s neck. He pulled his arm tighter with his free hand,
reinforcing his grip. This time Heinrik felt the headlock even
tighter. He continuously and desperately elbowed Alexander.

Blow after blow found its way into
Alexander’s gut, among other areas of his torso. Soon Heinrik’s
blows became weaker and weaker. Alexander’s grip became tighter and
tighter. Heinrik closed his eyes and tried to breathe. He could
not.

What raced through his mind, I can only
guess. I think he pictured my mother and his unborn son. He
wondered if I would be artistic, like Gracy was. He wondered if I
would be beautiful like she was. Heinrik wondered if I would be as
perfect as he was in his dreams.

My father died.

39

Hitler sat in a café in Berlin. He was
accompanied by two lean, muscular men. The two men wore clean, dark
leather jackets. They intimidated anyone who approached him.

It was early in the morning. Berlin was a
fast-paced city. People scurried up and down the streets, making
their way to jobs, homes, and schools. He sat outside the café at a
small patio table. The table was set for two, as if Hitler were
waiting for someone. His guards sat behind him at another table,
calmly and acutely in tune with everything that went on around
them. They had a headcount of all the people in the café, including
employees and people who walked the streets out front. They even
fearlessly tasted Hitler’s tea before he took one sip from it.

Hitler sat peacefully, like a child, drawing
on a napkin. As he became more valuable to the Nazi party and more
powerful in German politics, he had less and less time to be
creative. So whenever he found himself waiting, he took the time as
a perfect opportunity for him to create something, to draw one of
his ideas.

The waiter walked by to see if Hitler needed
anything. He did not talk to Hitler; instead he simply walked close
enough to the table to determine if the tea needed refilling. It
did not. The glass was still full. Hitler had only sipped it a
couple of times.

The waiter was a kid. He was no more than 20
years old. He got a glimpse of the napkin Hitler was drawing on.
The drawing was some sort of automobile design, like a schematic or
blueprint. He became curious, which was something his supervisor
had warned him against. He was told not to make any inquiries or
draw attention to himself in any way while in the presence of
Hitler. And above all other things, he was warned not to make eye
contact with Hitler.

Hitler noticed that the young waiter kept
lingering near him. The waiter stared at his sketch. At first,
Hitler pretended he did not see the boy. Quickly, however, he
changed his demeanor and sharply cocked his head toward the
waiter.

“Come here, young man,” Hitler demanded.

The waiter’s nerves tensed with fear. He
realized he had been caught staring. Terrified, the waiter slowly
approached Hitler’s table as if he were walking blindfolded in
front of a firing squad. He stood completely still, as if he were
under inspection by his commanding officer, the head waiter.

“Are you looking at my drawing?” Hitler
asked.

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir,” the waiter
replied.

“It’s okay. Do you know what it is?”

“No,” the waiter said, still scared.

He sensed that Hitler wanted him to ask
about it. Perhaps even to seem more interested than he really was.
He decided that it would be best for him to play along. “It looks
like a car. But it is unlike any car that I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s right. This car’s design is for a
future model. Only a German company could make this. See how the
top of it is completely curved like the shell of a turtle?” Hitler
asked, while sliding his finger over the drawing of the car’s
roof.

“Yes, I see it. What is the purpose of
that?”

Hitler started to look agitated. He looked
over at one of his guards. The bodyguard was quick to respond.
Within seconds he was standing directly behind the waiter. He was
not a tall man, about 1.75 meters, but he looked threatening.

“The purpose of the curved roof is to make
the car more aerodynamic. This will allow the car to glide right
through air resistance more quickly. Air resistance can hinder the
vehicle’s movement,” Hitler said proudly.

“That sounds incredible,” the waiter said. A
strong, nervous feeling came over him as he felt heavy breathing on
the back of his neck. It was from the bodyguard who stood in
proximity to him.

“Yes, now leave me alone,” Hitler said,
looking back down at the drawing with a sense of achievement.

A tall man stood at the edge of the walkway
that led up to the café. He stared at Hitler for a moment as if he
waited for the signal to approach. Hitler acknowledged him after
the waiter had vanished.

The tall man walked over to Hitler and sat
across from him at the table. The early shadows of the morning
followed him. His features never became clear to anyone who was
around; although, Hitler knew him well. In fact, he was one of the
only people in the world Hitler trusted with his darkest
secrets.

The man leaned forward from the shadow for
only a moment. It was long enough for Hitler to see his features.
They were cold and unflinching. The man had the darkest eyes.
Hitler alone could hear his words. The man said, “It is done. The
husband is dead.”

“Good. Thank you, Beowulf,” Hitler said to
the tall man.

Beowulf was the only name he was known by.
It was because he was a man whom many feared and few knew what he
looked like. He was more like Grendel from the Beowulf poem, but
they called him Beowulf.

Beowulf and Hitler spent the rest of the
morning planning the future of Hitler’s political ambitions.
Besides designing more aerodynamic automobiles and thinking about
art, he also contemplated the future for him and Gracy Kessler, my
mother.

It would take some time, but Hitler knew he
could win her over. He knew a pregnant woman, widowed, and Jewish
would not make it long without his help, not in the world he wanted
to create. No one Jewish would make it without his help. No
one.

40

Heinrik and Gracy’s bedroom was white with
brown trim. The trim bordered around the ceiling and the walls. The
room was abnormally chilly. Gracy slept in her nightgown. It was a
flowing, yellow-tinted gown.

She sat up in her bed. She waited for
Heinrik. His side of the bed was cold and undisturbed from when she
had made the bed the previous morning. She felt a sense of
emptiness. It was a feeling she was not used to. Heinrik had not
come home. She did not know why. But she knew that she could not
leave the house. She was pregnant. Their son kicked in her
belly.

She spent most of the morning wondering when
he would come home. She continually stared at the empty space on
their bed. She decided to get up and start her day without him, so
she rose from the bed and went into the kitchen.

She brewed some tea and walked out onto the
porch. Heinrik’s favorite chair rocked ever so slightly from a cool
breeze that swept through their neighborhood. She never sat in it
when he was around. She decided since he was missing their morning
routine, she would usurp his chair while he was gone.

The old rocking chair squeaked as she sat
down in it. Heinrik’s father had made it many years ago. It was
plain, nothing special about its design. The unusual thing about it
was that Heinrik’s father was not a carpenter. He had barely any
talent in the matter. So what was so special about this chair was
that it was the only piece of furniture that Heinrik’s father ever
made that had survived for so long.

As uneven as the chair was, it was important
to Heinrik and to Gracy. She sat in the chair and watched the
morning sky while sipping on her mug filled with tea. She liked to
use a coffee mug to drink her tea.

Heinrik drank coffee, black. Gracy thought
that it made him look tough, but black coffee was unappetizing to
her. It made her stomach turn. She thought it had the same effect
on Heinrik because whenever he drank his coffee before breakfast,
he would wind up skipping most of his meal.

Gracy must have realized while drinking her
tea that she had inadvertently started making his coffee.

Even though Gracy and Heinrik had spent the
last several years saving money to move into a lake house in Tegern
Lake, they had remained in the city. They were close to having the
down payment for the lake house, but not quite there yet.

Gracy’s mind wandered for a moment until the
sounds of an approaching car startled her. She looked up toward the
street and saw a car fast approaching her small apartment. It was a
government car. It parked directly in front of her building. The
driver got out and walked to the back of the car. He opened the
door, and Heinrik’s boss, the prison warden, stepped out.

The moment Gracy saw him without Heinrik,
she jumped to her feet so fast that she virtually landed on her
toes. Her body trembled. She knew what was coming. It was the
nightmare she had locked away in the pit of her mind. She knew it
in the pit of her stomach as well as in her womb where her unborn
baby grew: His father was dead.