Perfect Payback, page 8
A man leaving the hotel caught my attention. His scarf covered his neck and wrapped tight around his mouth, and his red stocking cap was pulled to his eyebrows. He crossed the street, looked back in my direction, but kept walking. His movements looked familiar, but I couldn’t see his face.
Chapter 19
der 26. Januar 1937
Augsburg, Germany
Sleep did not come easy last night. Agreeing to work with Hoermann still makes my stomach churn. If I suspect someone of stealing secrets about our fighter planes, I will do the minimum. Then Hoermann will have to follow up…
At 7:20 a.m., there was no time for breakfast and barely enough time to catch the train to Bavarian Aircraft Works. Slipping on my overcoat, I headed out the door and reached the elevator just as it opened.
Anna stood there. Her red coat and matching beret with a black-and-white checked bow jumpstarted my lethargic heart. But it was her smile as she stepped out of the elevator that sent me into orbit.
“Guten morgen, Anna.” I smiled back, tipping an imaginary hat. A stupid gesture, I know, but I couldn’t help myself.
She set her hand on my forearm and gave a light stroke. “I’m glad I saw you. I’d planned on calling today to see if you wanted to meet Heidi and me in the hotel bar for a drink after work.” She lowered her chin.
The only way I wouldn’t show up would be if I were in a coffin. “Of course. Around 6:00?”
She slowly drew her hand down my arm and squeezed my hand. “Perfect.” She turned and walked down the hall.
The sway of her hips? Now that was perfect. I watched her until she disappeared inside her office, wasting time I didn’t really have.
Messerschmitt wanted to see me before my workday started. Last week, he’d hinted I could be assigned to Augsburg if Daimler-Benz would allow it.
Being the only fighter plane engine specialist at the airframe facility could be good for my career. My progress with the oil pump and the roller bearing issue was falling into place. Replacing the roller bearing with a journal bearing still needed more testing.
I hurried to catch the next train, fighting the frigid wind. I rubbed my hands together to get warm, the train not usually this cold.
At work, the guard at the gate motioned me in through the checkpoint, barely glancing at my credentials. The cold wind must be getting to him, too.
The hallway to Messerschmitt’s office was jammed with people, usual for this time of day. The chatter was everything from sports to politics.
Messerschmitt’s secretary, Miss Baigelman, greeted me with a Marlene Dietrich smile, dreamy eyes, and parted lips. “Herr Pepperman, is there anything I can do for you?”
Her coy manner wasn’t a surprise. She’d greeted me before with flirtatious words and gestures. I didn’t mind. “Nein, thank you. I just need to talk with Herr Messerschmitt.”
“He’s waiting for you.” She pointed to his door, still beaming that bedroom smile.
A fog of cigarette smoke welcomed me—the haze so thick you could drive a nail through it.
“Hans, have a seat.” His happy tone seemed a good omen. “Great news from Daimler. Baron said you can stay here a while longer.” He jammed his already full ashtray with one more partially smoked tobacco stick.
I pulled a chair back from his desk and sat. “How long is a while longer?”
He moved the stinking ashtray to the corner of his desk and rolled out a blueprint. “I didn’t ask. If I could have my way, you’d be here permanently.”
That was a welcome compliment from a man not prone to praise. To the casual observer, Messerschmitt appeared an ordinary, balding, middle-aged man with no muscle tone who smoked too much. To me, he was an aeronautical genius.
He looked at the blueprint, pulled out another cigarette from the mostly empty pack, and lit up. He took a deep drag and exhaled a raincloud of smoke in my direction. “How’s the work on the oil pump going?”
I blew a puff of air upward to rid my nose of the suffocating smell. “I’m making progress.”
“Gut. Glad you are with us, Pepperman.” Short and to the point. A typical response from Willy Messerschmitt.
The day passed quickly. Anxious to see Anna, I left as soon as I could. Outside, I saw Ernst Fischer getting into his car. “Ernst, wait up.” I caught up to him before he shut his door.
“Anna and Heidi will be at the Bauer for a drink. Are you coming?”
“Nein. I’m having some design issues on the new medium range bomber.” He shut the door.
Not at all the friendly guy from the other night, he must’ve had a hell of a bad day. Work did that sometimes. I shrugged at his standoffish behavior. Seeing Anna was more important than a drink with a coworker.
The train was late pulling into the station close to the hotel. I hoped Anna and Heidi hadn’t given up on me.
The cold temperatures had kept most of the snow from melting, but there were some slush puddles in the road to navigate. One slippery spot almost caused me to lose my balance.
A young man across the way wasn’t as fortunate. He lost his footing, and the first thing that hit the ground was his derriere. He hopped up quickly and brushed himself off.
Stomping my ice-laden shoes before entering the hotel lobby, I sent bits of brownish water splattering against the revolving door.
Laughter came from the bar, louder than usual for a workday.
I stepped into the room.
Anna waved to get my attention. She and Heidi sat at a small round table near the middle of the lounge. Anna’s eyes were glued to mine.
A warm feeling filled my chest. She was becoming more and more special to me. I walked toward her.
A man seated at the bar turned his stool and stuck out his leg in front of me. “Pepperman, nice to see you again.” His tone was sarcastic and filled with hate.
I recognized the Gestapo agent from the night Adler and I had fought in the lavatory of this bar. I remembered his sparse black mustache. He was one of those guys who tried desperately to grow facial hair but was woefully inadequate.
“Do you remember me?” His fake grin exposed the worst mouth of crooked teeth I’d ever seen.
I looked down at his leg, then up to his face. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to say hello.” He took a big drink of his bier and set it back on the bar.
What was he doing? I’d seen him a few other times in the lounge, and he’d never acknowledged I was even in the room. Making direct eye contact, I wasn’t about to let him bully me. “Is there anything else you want to say?”
He shook his head. “Why the tone? Why are you so sensitive?”
I tapped him on the chest, not hard but stern enough to let him know I wouldn’t put up with his scheisse. “Don’t ever put your leg out in front of me again.”
He sat back in his chair, resting his elbows on the bar. “And if I do?”
“I’ll rearrange all those crooked teeth.”
He laughed and turned back to face the bar.
When I reached Anna and Heidi, I could tell by the look on Anna’s face she’d witnessed the conversation. “Guten abend, ladies.” I sat across from her.
“What was that all about?” she asked. “I saw you put a finger in the Gestapo agent’s chest.”
“He was just being an arsch. Nothing to be worried about.”
“Hans, you need to be careful. Don’t get on the bad side of the Gestapo. They could make your life miserable.”
I nodded, not wanting to spend any more time talking about that self-inflated trottel.
A waiter approached our table.
“One Weiss bier.” I looked at both the girls. “Anna, Heidi, are you ready for another?”
“Nein,” Anna said.
Heidi, in the middle of a swallow, shook her head.
“Well, how was everyone’s day?” Dumb question. Most people answered fine or good, even if their day was lousy. I should have asked something else. Why was I still so nervous around Anna?
Heidi coughed and lightly tapped her chest. “An ordinary day at the Augsburg newspaper. The Americans and the English can be so blah. The Americans always talk about sports. The English are usually boring. Except now they’re all in a buzz about Edward VIII abdicating the throne last month. And for a woman, no less.” She flipped the back of her hand.
That remark made Anna laugh.
“Enough about tedious, mundane trappings.” Heidi blotted her lips with a napkin. “Tell us what your day was like in the exciting aircraft industry.”
The waiter brought my bier, and I took a large drink. “My work is just as boring as yours. You really don’t want to know.” Besides, she’d have no idea what I was talking about.
Anna slightly tilted her head and grinned, accentuating her ruby lips. “Hans, Heidi wants to know what you do at work. What better compliment? Tell her.”
I took another drink. Now the glass was half-empty. “Not now. Maybe later.”
“Fair enough,” Anna said. “Let’s not talk about work.” She raised her glass, and we all toasted.
The rest of the evening, the three of us talked about our personal backgrounds.
Heidi shared she was the only child of two schoolteachers from the small town of Berchtesgaden in Bavaria. She took a sip of wine, daintily holding the thin-stemmed glass with her thumb and index finger. “My childhood was a great one. My parents were loving. The only problem for me living in the mountains was being a klutz. I never learned to ski. My dad tried to teach me, but he said I had my mother’s coordination. The truth is, I think I had his genes when it came to sports. He’s just as clumsy as I am.” She caught the attention of our waiter. “Another red wine, please.”
I ordered another bier. “Anna, tell me more about your family.” I crossed my legs and got more comfortable in my chair.
Anna’s eyes sparkled. “I grew up in Garmisch, Bavaria, with two sisters and one brother. My parents owned a restaurant, and we all had duties. My brother and sisters were competitive skiers. I was the youngest and, of course, picked on the most. Although being the youngest was a pain in the arsch, it made me stronger. Strong enough to mold me into an Olympic downhill skier.”
Heidi gasped. “That’s so impressive. What I would give to have only a portion of your athletic ability.” She leaned over the table. “And you, Hans, tell us about your life.”
Talking about myself made me feel awkward. “I’m from Hamburg. My father is an auto mechanic. I attended Braunschweig Institute of Technology and graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering.” I didn’t elaborate on that, but I did tell them about my Olympic boxing experience.
The night moved on. We ate sautéed German sausage with bacon and apple sauerkraut, wiener schnitzel with lingonberry preserves, and one of my favorites, bratwurst and mustardy fried potatoes and braised cabbage. Eating large portions came natural to me, but these two ladies held their own.
Around 10:00, Heidi excused herself to the lavatory.
I took advantage of the few moments alone with Anna, leaning over and giving her a passionate kiss.
She put a hand behind my neck and held the kiss a long time.
“I don’t want this night to end.” My words soft, I was asking more than making a statement.
She kissed me again, moving her hand to my cheek. “This is not a good time.”
Before I could ask why, Heidi came back and dropped her purse on the table. “Has the waiter brought our ticket?”
I shook my head. “Nein. But the night’s on me, and my pleasure to do so.”
Anna gave me a look that melted the soles of my shoes. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Heidi chuckled as though she’d had one too many drinks. “I wonder what she means by that, Hans.” She rolled her eyes.
I placed my hand on Anna’s. “Can you drive safely back to your apartment?”
She nodded and intertwined our fingers. “Yes, but thanks for asking.” For a moment, it seemed as if she might be reconsidering extending the night. But then she stood and grabbed her coat off the back of the chair.
After escorting the ladies to Anna’s car, I walked back into the hotel and headed to the elevator. It was too soon to let her know my feelings, but if our relationship continued, I knew I wanted to be with this woman long term. Was that something she might want too? Sometimes, I thought so. Other times, I had my doubts.
I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to my floor unable to get my mind off Anna. Her mellow voice and the way she’d looked tonight sent a firestorm through my body. I wished I’d pushed the issue about going back to her apartment.
Getting off on the third floor, I walked down the hallway to my room and unlocked the door.
And stopped.
Something was different. Off. A strange odor accosted me. An odor that smelled like Hoermann.
I flipped on the light switch. What I saw made my heart rate double. The drawer on the bedside table was open—just a crack—but I knew I hadn’t left it that way. Open drawers and cabinets drove me crazy. No, I’d carefully shut that drawer this morning before I’d left. Right after I’d put my journal inside.
Chapter 20
der 9. Fubruar 1937
Augsburg, Germany
I am sure someone broke into my room two weeks ago. I am not sure why. Getting in touch with Hoermann has been impossible as he has been out of town. Although I made a commitment, I am still torn between working for the government autocrats I despise and helping the country I love. I keep wondering if I am sacrificing my values and for what…
I accidentally knocked my small keepsake box to the floor. When I picked up the items, my Olympic boxing lapel pin was missing. I checked under the dresser and the bedside table. Not there. Where was it? Losing that pin would be a major disappointment. It was one of the few things I had to remind me of that period in my life. Since it was almost time to leave for work, I gave up looking for now and finished dressing.
I opened my door and walking toward me was the crooked-toothed Gestapo agent I’d had a run-in with at the hotel bar.
He stepped in front of me.
I tried to squeeze by him.
He closed the gap. “Agent Schiffter wants to talk with you.”
My mouth went dry, anticipating the verbal confrontation with a guy whose personality matched that of a dead animal. “I’m on my way to work.”
“We’ve contacted Messerschmitt. He knows you won’t be in today.”
I scratched my temple. “What’s this all about?” I kept my voice calm, not wanting to irritate Schiffter’s lackey.
He motioned for me to follow him to the elevator, and I had no choice but to comply. When he pushed the button for the second floor, the cables groaned, the motor straining to lower the heavy metal box. A jolt rocked us, pushing me against the side of the elevator.
I glanced at the ceiling. “The hotel maintenance needs to check the gear box on the motor. Don’t you think?”
The Gestapo errand-runner didn’t even move. He could’ve been a statue.
The door opened, and we stepped onto the carpeted hallway, the muffled sound of our shoes in perfect step as we marched to the Gestapo office.
The lackey opened the door for me.
I stepped inside and focused on the last desk at the back of the room. Nothing had changed.
Schiffter rested his forearms on the desk and clasped his hands in front of him. His dark eyes bored a hole into my skull. His smirk told me I was in for a long day, for whatever trumped-up reason. The closer I got to his desk, the more he beamed a fake, painted-on smile. He didn’t say a word, just pointed at the empty chair in front of his desk.
I pulled it out and sat, my shoulders rigid, my back tightening, bracing for what was about to happen. “What now?”
Anna had warned me about pissing off these people, but it was difficult pretending to kowtow to these thugs.
“You told us you had nothing to do with Heinrich Adler’s death. Is that still your position?” Schiffter picked up a pencil and tapped it on the desk. The thud of the eraser echoed on the metal surface.
“Yes.” I dropped my chin and glared at the pompous arsch, my chest heavy, my body sluggish.
He stopped tapping, opened the middle drawer of his desk, and picked something up.
I couldn’t see the object gripped tight in his fist.
“Could this belong to you, Herr Pepperman?”
When he opened his fingers, my stomach bottomed out. The Olympic boxing pin. My mouth dropped open. I tried to speak but couldn’t. My tongue seized up.
“I said, does this belong to you?” Schiffter’s loud voice was shrouded in contempt.
Words finally formed. “Where did you get that?”
Scowling, he flicked the pen with his middle finger, spinning it like a top. “On the bank of the Lech River near where Adler’s body was found. Is… this… yours?”
Someone was framing me. Who would do that? “I’ve never been on the Lech River where Adler died.”
“I didn’t ask if you’d been on the Lech River. I asked if this was your pin.” He pointed at me. “And I said murdered. Adler was murdered.”
“All right. Murdered. I didn’t murder him.” And I didn’t claim the pin.
Schiffter’s smug expression taunted me. “If you confess, Herr Pepperman, I can’t make this go away, but I can make it easier for you. If you choose not to confess… well, then I can make your life miserable.” His threatening words were piercing.
My brain began to shut down as though stuck in a quagmire. “I have nothing to add to what I’ve already told you.”
Schiffter’s face soured and bulged bright red. He leaned forward, wagging a yellowish, nicotine-stained finger at my chest. “You killed Adler, and you’ll get the death penalty for it. I’ll see to… ” Eyes widening, he looked over my shoulder.
