Dresner nodded. The idea of getting splashed by something that would eat you alive frightened the hell out of him. “Is there a watchtower in the yard?”
Mantz pointed to what looked like a camera on a pole nearby. “There are eight cameras in the yard and I have a man with a remote control for the water sitting in an office. He watches anyone out here.”
Dresner nodded. “I’ll need to talk to the operators, but this looks pretty good to me,” he said. Dresner doubted people really watched what was going on, especially when no one was supposed to be there, but for now he would take the man’s word it was done. Before he left, Dresner looked at the level marker on the side of the tank next to the steel ladder. It looked like any normal level indicator and when he tried to move it, he could feel when the float inside touched the liquid. Then he climbed to the top of the tank and looked at how it went inside. As he climbed, he noticed the rubberized metal cable seemed to be crimped about two thirds of the way up. At the top, the metal was very corroded except for one place where the tube going into the tank looked slightly pressed together. In the flat areas there were teeth marks from some metal tool. There were more marks around the top of the tube where it looked like someone had tried to straighten it back out as much as possible. Taking mental notes, he looked down at Mantz. “This is a simple float mechanism,” he asked.
Mantz nodded. “Plastic that is weighted so that it can’t come up and won’t sink. We have to change the pulleys and the cable about once every two years or so,” he yelled back.
Dresner quickly descended and looked at Mantz. “Not much to see up there. Let’s keep going,” he said.
The tours and interviews continued all afternoon. By the time he left for the day Dresner knew there was something wrong. The answers were too easy and he had seen some physical evidence that indicated someone was lying through his teeth.
It had taken a few nights to get the valves lined up and changed to look closed when they were actually open. Working in darkness except for a small pencil flashlight, Stadt had finally gotten things going. While people were working feverishly loading and unloading tanker trucks in the fueling part of the yard, Stadt was actually behind a small hill and had attached a hose to his truck from the waste oil platform. He worked alone and when anyone came by it looked exactly like he was draining the waste oil from a sludge tank for hauling away. Instead, he had tapped into a line leading directly from the RP-1 storage tanks on the other side of the berm.
Stadt was tired. It meant a double shift since he still had to make sure the waste oil was taken to the centrifuge for recycling. But the first trip was always with the prime fuel. He was passed through the gate with hardly a notice and quickly drove the twenty miles to the mountain where the fueling lines were hidden. Once drained, he made it back and came out with the sludge to deliver. People didn’t care about the sludge tank or what he was doing. They were more concerned with the trucks with fuel in them.
He had made five runs so far. Three more and he would be done. As he began offloading the sludge into the recycling center tanks he thought about his son, Fredrich. He was very proud of his son. Fredrich was an honor student in school and was a very good football player. He also loved skiing and skating. Most of the time Stadt remembered a happy child, without a care, who was very willing to try anything. He was particularly happy when it pleased his father.
But recently things had changed. Fredrich had become more serious and more secluded. He spent most of his time in his room. It had begun when he had insisted Fredrich begin going to the Party meetings. Stadt had been free to share his ideals with his son and this was the natural step for him to take. Unfortunately, the schools had some other ideas of what should happen in the world and he was sure this had caused a small conflict with Fredrich. Nevertheless, his son would quickly learn the benefits of the Party and how it was a strong influence on a man. Fredrich would come to accept what he had accepted long ago — strict obedience and true loyalty. The Party would make his son and Germany proud again.
The tanker emptied and Stadt used the flushing system to clean out the residual waste oil. His tank would have to be clean for the next run. When everything was finally disconnected, he left to get four hours of sleep at home before starting again in the morning.
Al Anderson had a passion for automobiles. He had already restored the now lone Rolls in his garage, but there was room for more and he knew exactly what would go in it. Now he was at the train station as they offloaded the car he wanted to “cruise” in.
There was a crowd gathering as they rolled a 1962 Pontiac Bonneville convertible off the rail car and onto the siding. The country inspections had already been performed and the tag placed on the car in Hamburg, where the car entered Germany. Some time was taken as a small group of men removed the protective sheets of plastic and paper from the interior and exterior of the car. Once removed, they revealed a very sleek grenadier red car with a white top and a white custom leather interior. The chrome shined brilliantly in the late afternoon sun as the crew gave it a quick wash, attached the battery cables and fueled it from a large can.
Anderson inspected the car and finally signed off on the receipt. Then he climbed into the front seat, started the big 389 cubic inch V-8, let the top down and drove it through the gates and onto the street. Pulling into the first petrol station he saw, Anderson filled the tank and then drove the wide-trac Pontiac through Innsbruck. As expected, heads turned as the long, sleek car noiselessly moved through traffic. For many it was the first time they had seen such an American car. Al loved it.
The trip through the countryside to get to his new home was just as exhilarating. Giving the car some gas, the engine responded effortlessly and the Hydra-Matic transmission had no troubles with the hills and curves. Where most European cars had to work the roads, this car had muscle and Anderson wanted to show it off. He sat back and savored the ride. As it got cooler, he simply turned on the heater and kept the top down.
Pulling through the tunnel, Anderson made his way along the now graveled and manicured road and entered the courtyard of the house. The weeds and grasses were gone and he had returned the courtyard to its original look, with white pea gravel everywhere. The house was now a pure white and the few blemishes that had been in the walls were nowhere to be seen. The front doors had been replaced but two gas fed lanterns framed the doorway and gave light to the surrounding area.
Anderson stopped the car at the doors and blew the horn. In a moment, Mary and his daughter Kate came bounding out. Mary placed her hands in her face, “It’s gorgeous,” she said as she looked over the car.
“You should have seen the people staring,” he said.
“I bet!” said Mary as she walked around the car and sat in the passenger seat. “Oh, these seats feel nice,” she said as she rubbed her hand along the back of the seat.
“It rides good too,” Al said. He was pushed aside as Kate opened the driver side door and climbed in behind the wheel.
“What car are you two going to drive?” she asked running her hands around the steering wheel.
“Not yet little girl. I want to break it in first, but it won’t take too long. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather use a Volkswagen?” he asked with a smirk.
“Oh Daddy! I would rather have one of those BMWs,” she said.
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t get you one of those Messerschmitts,” he said to her giving her his stern look. Messerschmitt was producing a small two seat cigar shaped car with bug eyes. The roof hinged at one side for the occupants to get in. It was definitely not what Kate was looking for.