Perfect Payback, page 14
The projector clattered over the wind slamming the shutters against the side of the house.
I made Keitel play it one more time, then I got up and walked out of the room. It felt like I was trudging through mud.
Someone grabbed my arm and turned me around.
Hoermann. His eyes, so close to mine, looked out of focus. “What is it, Hans? What did you see?”
A massive rage escalated inside me. A different kind of rage than when I boxed. I had no animosity for my opponents in the ring. But this feeling was different. I wanted revenge. I looked Hoermann in the eye. “I know who it is.”
Chapter 30
June 1999
Bartlesville, Oklahoma
After reading Hans’s life aloud to Laura for three hours, my voice needed a rest. I set the journal on the table by my chair and stretched.
“Why are you stopping, Jim?” Laura sat up from where she’d been lounging on the couch across the room. “Keep going.” She clutched the glass of iced tea she’d been nursing and leaned forward. “I have to know.”
Getting comfortable again, I opened the journal, just as eager to see who he’d recognized on the film.
But the next page was blank.
What? That couldn’t be right. I sat straighter and turned the next page.
Still nothing.
I licked my thumb and flipped through the rest of the pages. They fluttered like cards being shuffled, the sound hollow, the paper void of words. All that greeted me was the musty smell of an old book.
“Jim, keep reading.” Laura’s tone was in no way a request.
Setting the open journal on my lap, I shook my head. “That’s all.” I’d given three hours of my life to Hans’s journal—and now nothing. It was like being enthralled in an epic movie that was permanently paused during intermission. The blank pages felt like a promise made but not kept. I needed to know what happened.
“What do you mean, that’s all?” Laura set her glass on the table and swung her feet to the floor, her face etched with disappointment.
“I mean, that’s all. There’s nothing else to read.” Exasperated, I slapped the arm of my chair.
Laura sprang off the couch, hurried over, and picked up the journal. She flipped through the pages like she could magically make the rest of the story appear. “There’s nothing else.”
“That’s what I said.”
She gingerly closed the old book and exhaled a frustrated burst of air. “We’ve got to find out who Hans saw in the film.” She put a hand over her mouth as if to hold back curse words screaming to escape. “What are we going to do? Hans can’t leave us hanging like this.” She broke into a childlike grin, realizing Hans had no idea he’d left us hanging and didn’t care.
I matched her smile. “What do you want me to do? Call and scold him for leaving us in the dark.”
“Yes. That is exactly what I want you to do.” Her precise tone left no doubt what she wanted.
“What?”
“We’ve got to find out if he’s still living.” She held the journal next to her chest, her voice stern. “We’ve got to find out what happened.”
I did the math in my head. “Hans was in his twenties in 1937. He’d be in his mideighties now.”
Laura put the journal on the table. “We have to find him. We have to try.”
“But where do we start?”
She bit down on her lower lip. “I’ll do a search on our Gateway computer. Let’s start with Augsburg, Germany.”
“It’s worth a try.” My heart pounded with the possibility of discovering a part of my family’s history that had been lost. But could it be done? “Germany invaded Poland in 1939, over sixty years ago. If World War II didn’t kill him, attrition could have. What are the chances of locating him even if he’s alive?”
Suddenly, nothing else mattered but to discover what had happened to this fascinating man and to learn the story of his life. We had to find Hans.
Chapter 31
July 1999
Bartlesville, Oklahoma
The past few weeks I’d especially looked forward to getting home from work to see what Laura’s research had uncovered. The possibility of finding Hans constantly on my mind, I set my briefcase on the kitchen counter and walked to the computer room to find her staring at the computer screen.
The computer desk was strewn with loose papers and yellow sticky notes. Empty soda cups filled the trash can by the door, and crumpled Dove candy bar wrappers dotted the desk.
She’d spent two weeks searching for Hans. Her efforts had found a number of Peppermans in Augsburg and his hometown Hamburg, Germany, but none that panned out. I couldn’t stop wondering what he looked like, if there was a family resemblance, and what he remembered about Dad coming to see him at the Olympic Games. I tried not to dwell on the fact that Hans might not be alive.
Laura took off her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes.
I stepped closer and touched her shoulder.
She flinched and turned toward me. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in.” The tired look on her face told me all I needed to know.
“No luck?” I massaged her tense shoulders, the tightness loosening with each squeeze.
“No, and I’ll give you thirty minutes to stop what you’re doing.” She closed her eyes, seeming to enjoy the attention, then set her hand on mine.
I gently lifted her arm, guiding her out of the chair. “Let’s go to the living room.”
She took her usual place on the sofa while I sat across from her in my chair.
I noticed a small crack in the glass of the large picture window behind her, probably from a hail stone. “Maybe this is not to be.” I reached down, untied my shoes, and kicked them to the side.
Laura sat, crossing her legs. “I don’t know what else to do. Our computer is so limited.”
I hesitated, angling my head to the side. “What did you just say?”
“I said I don’t know what else I can do.”
“No, about the computer.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Our computer is limited on what it can do.”
I threw back my head, looked at the ceiling, then back at her. “Why didn’t I think of this before?”
She gave me a puzzled look. “Think of what before?”
I extended both arms straight out. “Sybil Adams.”
Another confused look. “Sybil who?”
“Sybil Adams. She owns the company that installed our computers at work. She’s a retired Army colonel. Maybe she has contacts in the military that can help us find Hans.”
Laura grinned and uncrossed her legs. “Do you think the government computers are capable of doing a little more than ours?” Her facetious tone was obvious.
I nodded. “I’d bet on it.”
“How soon can you talk with this lady?” Her speech accelerated.
“I’ll try tomorrow. The home office of Systems, Inc. is in Tulsa.”
“Do you think she’ll remember you?”
“I’m sure of it. I was on the committee explaining what we needed from their computers. I worked directly with her.”
Laura sat on the edge of the couch, leaning forward. “This could be the break we’ve been looking for. I’ve got one question.”
“What’s that?”
“Why didn’t you think of this two weeks ago?” She picked up a sofa pillow and playfully chunked it my way.
I caught the cushion and laid it next to my chair. “Let’s think ahead. What if Sybil finds Hans? What do we do next?”
“What are you thinking?”
I could see the wheels in her head spinning, wondering where my thoughts were. “We call him, of course. If he’s willing, would you want to go to Germany, if that’s where he’s living?”
“Jim, do you know how many years you’ve promised me a vacation to Europe?”
“No, but I think you do.”
“It was before the triplets were born, and they are now fourteen.”
“So, I’m a little bit late.” I laughed and tossed the pillow back to her.
Laura didn’t even try catching it. She just batted it away from her face and sat back, covering her mouth with her hands, tearing up. She dropped her hands and rubbed her thighs. “Can you imagine having a conversation with him? I feel as though I know this wonderful man already. His journal captivated me, and I have to find out what happened to him. I know you must feel the same way.”
I looked at Laura, unable to answer her immediately. I swallowed hard and took several deep breaths. “I do.” It wasn’t just that I wanted to find Hans. I had to see him. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to find this lost link to my heritage. “I’ll call Sybil tomorrow.”
The rest of the evening was mostly silent between the two of us. I believed her thoughts were on Hans. I knew mine were.
Laura went to bed before I did. She rested on her side, asleep.
I turned off the bedside light and slid under the covers. The house was quiet. All I heard from outside was the faint bark of a dog. I tried to think about what Hans’s life must have been like during the war. I had no idea of the sufferings of the German people. The vast majority of the citizens were good, hard-working people just caught up in an evil regime.
At that moment, I felt warm and relaxed, sensing Hans Pepperman was alive. I smiled. Now the question was, could we find him?
Chapter 32
July 1999
Bartlesville, Oklahoma
Three days had passed since my conversation with Sybil. At first, she’d been hesitant about helping Laura and me find Hans. The Army frowned on using their resources for personal reasons. But Sybil did have one contact who owed her a favor.
Right before I left my office, she called with news. Hurrying home, I couldn’t wait to share what she’d learned. Bursting through the garage door, I set my briefcase on the kitchen counter. “Where are you, Laura?”
Smiling, she came out of the laundry room carrying a basketful of clean clothes. With her hair tied back with a red bandana and her face covered in a light green paste, I only saw the whites of her eyes and a bunch of white teeth.
“What in the heck have you got on your face?” I shook my head, not really wanting to know. “Never mind. Have a seat. I have good news and bad news.”
“About Hans?” She put the basket on the floor, went to the living room, and sat in my lounge chair.
Nodding, I barely waited for her rear to hit the seat cushion before the good news erupted out. “I heard from Sybil today.”
She straightened in the chair. “Okay.” Her voice spiked with enthusiasm.
“Sybil found Hans.”
Laura jumped out of the chair, both arms in the air. “Yes… Yes… Yes.” Her bare feet pitter patted on the carpet as she sang, “Na na na na, hey hey, good news.”
I thought she’d flipped her ever-loving mind. “Hold on.” I pointed to the chair as I sat on the couch. “I might be ahead of myself.” I cleared my throat and started again. “We may have found Hans.”
Laura’s shoulders slumped as she sat back down, her energy gone. “Go on.”
“Sybil located a man in Munich fitting Hans’s description. The only data the Army found is from five years back. The man was eighty-one at the time, which would make him eighty-six now. A lot can happen in five years. All we can do is hope. But hope is better than nothing.”
“So that’s the bad news? He might be dead?” She leaned forward.
“Well, that would be bad, but the other bad news is there’s no phone number. But there is an address. Arnulfstr 2, apartment 312, not far from the Marienplatz, the center of Munich.”
Laura scratched her cheek, forgetting the green goo on her face. She wiped her fingers on her jeans. “What do you want to do?”
“Go to Munich. What say you?”
Laura jammed both hands on her hips and rocked her head from side to side. “Not yes… but H-E-double toothpicks yes.”
I couldn’t help but grin at her corny cliché. “I’m scheduled to be off the next two weeks. The boys’ All-Star baseball tournament is week after next. We can still go to Europe and be back in time for the tournament. But the boys can’t go with us because of practice.”
Laura dragged her hand across her mouth and down her chin, scrapping off more green goo. “Why don’t we ask the Sturners if the boys can stay with them? Levi is on the team too.”
“Great idea. If one of our boys gets a toothache, Dr. Jane’s right there for him.”
Laura rocked back in the chair. “And if one of them gets a cut, Dr. Dustin can do the sutures.”
We both laughed.
“It’s wonderful to have neighbors who are both doctors,” I said.
Laura shook her head. “Poor little Ashley. With our three boys and her brother in one house for a week, she may not talk to us again.”
I tried to temper my excitement, but it didn’t work. We were about to leave our kids for at least a week to search for a man who may be my second cousin. Was I being too optimistic? Perhaps.
The odds were not in my favor that the Hans Pepperman in Munich was a relative. But I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to find out.
Chapter 33
July 1999
Bartlesville, Oklahoma
Munich, Germany
Plane reservations were booked. The Sturners had agreed to keep the triplets, and I hoped we’d still be friends after our return from Munich.
Feeling like a senior looking forward to his last prom night, I was excited about the possibility of locating Hans. As silly as that sounded, connecting the dots to my family history became extremely important to me.
When the plane made its final approach to Franz Josef Strauss International Airport in Munich, I looked at Laura staring intently out the window. “You’re in deep thought. What about?”
She adjusted herself in the tight airplane seat. “I feel as though I’m going on my first date.”
“Are you serious? That’s a bit juvenile, don’t you think?” I gave her a look of disbelief but chuckled to myself. No way was I going to tell her my feelings almost exactly matched hers.
By the time we picked up our luggage and fell into a taxi, it was 10:30 p.m. Exhausted, we missed most of what I was sure was a magnificent view as we drove to the Kempinski Hotel.
Laura turned on the seat to face me. “The Glockenspiel is a giant mechanical working clock in the Marienplatz with life-sized wooden figures that spin, telling two different sixteenth- century stories. A must-see while we’re here.”
I nodded. She was going to make the most of this trip. I should have taken her to Europe fifteen years ago like I’d promised.
At the hotel, we pulled our luggage down a long, elegant hallway with pale yellow walls and light green carpet. When we got to our room, I unlocked the door to a large, luxurious space. The bed, covered with a white spread, lush green pillows, and a dark green throw folded neatly at the foot, beckoned me. I sat on the firm mattress and breathed out a relaxing sigh. We’d made it. We were here.
The way Laura’s shoulders dropped and her face smoothed out told me she felt the same. Tired from the flight and the time change, we took quick showers and went to bed. Neither of us could sleep. After we both tossed and turned for thirty minutes, Laura sat up and flipped on the bedside lamp. “My mind’s a runaway freight train.”
I fluffed my pillow and faced her. “My brain’s a mess. I’m wondering if he’s the right Hans. And if he is, will he want to see us? I can’t imagine he wouldn’t, but you never know. A man of his age may have become bitter with World War II and all he had to deal with. I want so much to get to know him. But even if he’s interested in filling us in on his life, how much will he remember?”
Laura touched my cheek. “I have a good feeling we made the right decision. We’ll find Hans, and he will love telling us about his life. This was meant to be. I just know it. Let’s go to sleep and be ready for a good day. No. A great day.” She kissed me on the check, then switched off the light.
Pulling her close, I hoped she was right. But I had my doubts, and as I watched the clock on the bedside table tick off the minutes toward morning, my spirits waned by the hour. We’d traveled thousands of miles to meet someone who might turn out not to be the someone we needed to find. How could we be so foolish to trust a gut feeling? I sighed and turned over again. At least we would know soon.
The alarm went off a few hours later, and Laura jumped out of bed and opened the curtains. “Jim, it’s time to get up. This is going to be a fantastic day.”
With my hand, I shielded my eyes from the bright light and rolled over to my stomach.
She flung the covers off me and slapped my backside. “Move it, big guy.”
How did she have that much energy after our long flight? She must be on an adrenaline high.
I pulled the covers back over me. “You get ready first.” My you get ready first was as pleasant sounding as I could make it. I wasn’t nearly as excited about what the day would bring, but I didn’t want to dampen her enthusiasm.
We ate breakfast at the hotel restaurant. The high-back, padded chairs and white linen tablecloths exuded style.
The staff wore white starched shirts and black pants. One filled our glasses with water, but there was no ice. That seemed odd.
In the front of the room, chefs in tall, pleated, starched hats were busy arranging food in an appetizing fashion on buffet tables filled with trays of fresh bread, butter, jam, honey, thinly sliced meats, cheese, and boiled eggs. Not exactly the pancakes and ham Laura would make on a Saturday morning. But this Saturday morning I was in Germany, and the aroma of the bread piqued my appetite.
