The Nazis were drinking heavily and proudly celebrating their leader’s new position of power. Yes, Adolf Hitler, the son of a civil servant and a former unsuccessful painter, was now the Chancellor of Germany. It would just be a matter of time before he was the dictator of the country and had the final say about every aspect of life in the Third Reich.
An orchestra played a German operetta by Hitler’s favorite composer as Wayne materialized in a quiet corner of the room.
There he was, in 1933 Nazi Germany. Words could not express Wayne’s thoughts at that moment. He was standing in the same room as some of the most evil men who had ever walked the face of the Earth. It gave Wayne an eerie feeling. His heart was pounding and his palms sweaty. Wayne’s main concerns were to complete his mission and, most importantly, to not let anybody find out that he was Jewish.
One of the nearby guests, a bulky man, was holding an empty glass in his hand. He turned around to notice Wayne. The guest, thinking he was a waiter, shoved his glass in Wayne’s face and raucously said, “Get me another drink.”
Wayne knew that if he hesitated at all, he might cause unwanted attention. He nodded his head up and down and took the empty glass from the man.
Wayne walked around, looking for the drink table. Toward the back of the main Chancellery meeting area, where the festivities were taking place, Wayne noticed a pair of swinging doors. He figured these doors would lead into the kitchen. Given the simplicity so far, he hoped that the rest of this would be just as easy.
The kitchen was small, just large enough for a few people to comfortably work in it together. A prep cook was busy readying hor d’œuvres.
The prep cook saw Wayne and pointed, without saying anything, to a large barrel filled with iced bottled of champagne and trays stacked with empty champagne glasses. Wayne got the hint and began to fill glasses with the alcoholic beverage. He was tempted to take a swig of the stuff, but didn’t dare.
Another waiter entered the kitchen with an empty tray. The crowd was hungry for champagne, and he was only able to walk about nine meters before his tray was once again vacant. Wayne was eyeing all of the cabinets and drawers as a possible spot where the Silver Cup may be. He would have to do some searching. But how without drawing attention?
Wayne filled his tray of champagne glasses very slowly, but felt the gaze of the prep cook on his back. He would have to exit the kitchen with his tray. He would unload his champagne glasses to guests as quickly as possible, then get back to the kitchen. Maybe the prep cook wouldn’t be there then. Time was wasting.
Wayne left the kitchen. Guests thirstily grabbed the glasses off of his tray without saying a word to him. So far, so good. Now he had to find a way to search for the Silver Cup.
As Wayne, with his empty tray, walked through the door that swung into the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of something that made him think his eyes were playing a trick on him. He saw another waiter, a middle-aged chap, exit the kitchen through the other door. This other waiter was holding up a tray, though not just an ordinary silver tray like Wayne himself held or the other waiters had been using to pass out drinks to the guests. No, this tray appeared to be exquisite gold. It was the glitter of this tray that caught Wayne’s eye. But what really astounded Wayne was the one item he saw on this beautiful tray. That one item was none other than a silver cup. Wayne, for a split second, had thought he had seen an inscription on the front of the silver cup, but he wasn’t sure. Could this be it? Who else would be brought a special cup to drink out of on a special gold tray but the Führer?
Wayne had to act fast. He didn’t bother entering the kitchen to refill on champagne glasses. Instead, he started to trail the waiter with the gold tray.
As he tried to follow him, Wayne had a hard time making his way through the heavily crowded room. As Wayne pushed his way through, various guests placed empty glasses and cigarette butts on his tray. Wayne felt somebody bump against him. He turned around and came face to face with Adolf Hitler.
Hitler gave Wayne a cold stare with his slightly protruding, radiant, deep blue eyes — the eyes that had hypnotized a nation.
As the Führer made eye contact with him, Wayne began to shake and almost pissed in his pants. Surely Hitler would see something in Wayne that would make him suspicious of this waiter.
Wayne swallowed hard and did the only thing that he could think of at the moment. “Heil, Hitler,” Wayne said and also saluted Hitler.
Adolf Hitler did not respond. Instead, for what seemed like the longest twenty seconds of his whole entire life, the Nazi leader continued staring into Wayne’s eyes. And suddenly, Hitler continued on his way. Wayne let out a sigh of relief.
Wayne thought to himself after meeting Hitler and seeing the other Nazi functionaries how ironic it was that these men did not in any way appear to be the supermen, or ideal Aryan specimens, that was central to the National Socialist regime. In fact, with the exception of only two men that were present on that night, none of the men had blue eyes or blond hair, or even appeared to be the perfect example of a healthy human being. Not Goebbels with his clubbed foot deformity, nor Göring was his obesity, nor Himmler with his frail body and bad eyes, nor Hitler himself with his black hair and his frequent stomach problems.
Wayne continued pushing his way through the crowd. He spotted the waiter with the silver cup walking towards the podium. Wayne moved quickly to get next to him.
There was only one thing that Wayne could do. He stuck his foot out so that the middle-aged waiter would trip. The waiter proceeded to take a fall and banged his head with a strong impact on the floor, sending the silver cup flying.
Wayne picked up the silver cup off of the floor and put the prized possession on his tray. He patted the hurting waiter on the back. The waiter was too dazed to say anything. Wayne read the cup’s inscription, “De Führer,” Bingo.
Hitler stepped up to the podium. Behind him hung a huge red banner with the all-important party symbol, the swastika, dead in the center of it. Seated behind the Führer were top Nazi officials, including Rudolf Hess and Hermann Göring. The place had become silent.
Hitler stood at the podium for a full two minutes before talking. This built up anticipation for the audience, whether a small beer hall audience or a packed stadium audience, to hear their leader speak his magical words of leadership and wisdom. Hitler, being the gifted orator that he was, really knew how to work a crowd to his advantage.
Finally, the Nazi leader spoke in a mild tone, “A great victory has been had today, but much more has yet to be done. Today, we have paved the way for Germany to rightfully regain what was once hers.
The crowd cheered and he continued, “None but the members of the nation may be citizens of the State. None but of those of German blood, of the purest of Germanic bloodlines, will…”
Wayne entered the kitchen. The prep cook was gone. The place was empty. He had the Silver Cup. Things could not be going any better.
Wayne picked up a bottle of champagne and poured some champagne into the Silver Cup. He glanced around the now empty kitchen. The coast was clear. Wayne removed the vial of poison from his pocket. He unscrewed the protective cap and poured the deadly contents of the vial into the beautiful Silver Cup.
A waiter, the one Wayne had originally seen in the kitchen, walked in. The waiter, a young guy of average build, spotted Wayne. Something he saw angered him.
He grabbed Wayne by the shoulders and pushed him with so much force against a counter where utensils hung that most of them fell to the ground.
“Idiot!” the waiter yelled. He pushed Wayne hard again, this time into another counter. On the counter was a carving board and a full selection of carving knives. The waiter pinned Wayne down. He picked up a knife that had to have had a blade at least a foot long, and put the sharp edge of the blade against Wayne’s neck.