You also begin to see things differently.
Maxi’s thoughts rushed back to the last time he drove Bettina, and the image of her holding the photo of a man Goebbels would soon be meeting.
What was his name? Maxi couldn’t remember. Even though he had caught a glimpse of the photo that night, his memory at the moment could only broadcast images of Bettina reclining back in the back seat of the taxi.
“Another beer?” Otto asked while getting up.
Maxi’s wave of the hand combined with a distant stare told Otto something was coming to the surface that was deep inside of Maxi – something that was important to himself and their mission.
Otto walked into the kitchen to let his partner sort it out. Although Otto had never met Michael Thomas Jenkins – now ‘Maxi’ Borck – before being assigned together for the Berlin operation, he seemed to instinctively know exactly how to handle the sometimes extremely sensitive Maxi. This could be due to the fact Otto had an older brother, Edward, who had a very similar temperament.
While pouring another beer, an odd fact entered Otto’s consciousness, which he spoke out loud, “Wow, hey Maxi, you and my brother Edward share the same birthday!”
The word “birthday” triggered a flash of thought through Maxi’s mind, bringing one buried piece of information to the front of his brain – the memory of what Bettina said about this man who was going to see Goebbels. Something about him working on Nostradamus, something about how they were going to use astrology. Birthdays. Astrology.
“Otto… wait a minute!”
“He created it that easily?” Goebbels questioned while admiring Bettina type in the other room. He raised his left shoulder to brace the phone, so his arm was free, then crumpled a previously rejected piece of paper and threw it at Bettina.
The wad of paper missed, but she turned, smiled, and then continued with her typing. Such actions from Goebbels meant that he was in a good mood and wanted to play. Bettina knew what games might follow when the second piece of paper sailed over her head – and that the Minister was in the mood to play real soon. She got up and went to the ladies room to prepare herself.
It was 11:30 in the evening.
“Good work, Dr. Fesel. It seems you have chosen the right man for the job once again!”
Goebbels had been pacing back and forth as if taking part in a military parade, now he skipped like an 8 year-old kid who had just gotten what was wished for.
“Fine, fine, no, no, don’t work him right away – the point is, he has a believable idea for this project and that’s enough for now. We don’t want to let him in too quickly into the entire project… take him and his wife to have some fun. Find some friends and a party for them to get involved with. Let’s see if we can find something that way. Good. Good, yes, that should do fine. Excellent! Call me when you have a draft. I would like to see something by Wednesday, is that possible? Good. Good. Auf wiederzehen!”
Goebbels slammed the phone down in a gesture and attitude of victory. “Where is my personal secretary?” Goebbels bellowed. A strained and faked giggle came from the adjoining room.
“I need my s-e-c-r-e-t-a-r-y. Oh, how I need her now! I have a very important plan that must have some action put on it right away!” The Minister of Propaganda was now almost singing. Bettina hurried in the room, rounded Goebbels’ desk and stopped just in from of him. She then snapped to attention and remained perfectly silent.
It was a game they had played many times before. Despite her apparent joy in being with the Minister, this was a game she hated. However life’s current circumstances forced her to play.
“Aaaaaaaah, what have we here?” said Goebbels, leaning his face forward towards her chest, as if seeing her figure for the first time.
“What a lovely blouse, h-o-w-e-v-e-r, I think we need to remove it.”
Bettina saluted, as if being given a military order, and quickly began unbuttoning her pure white blouse. However, before she got to the last button, Goebbels raised his hand in a command to stop.
“Yes, Yes,” he murmured while turning his head slowly to admire the view of the party exposed bra from various angles, “the beauty, the form, the power of Das Deutsche Volk!” he continued, quoting a part of Hitler’s speech given earlier that week – which he wrote.
Bettina’s psyche was in turmoil. On one hand there was something exciting about being near one of the most powerful men in Germany and have so much admiration and attention directed towards her. Yet the fact moments like these were forced did not allow her to enjoy any of the excitement of being close to such power.
Goebbels undid the last button himself and draped her blouse back so her bra and stomach were completely revealed. “Oh, my! Look at what I get!”
Goebbels had made it appear he saved Bettina in 1937 just before Kystallnacht, the night when almost the entire German population went on a smashing spree of Jewish shops and institutions. At the time Bettina had been working at the Reichstag for two years, and Goebbels had somehow learned that Bettina’s great grandmother was Jewish, which could have ruined much more than just her job. In truth, Bettina, as all other workers within the German government, just had their backgrounds meticulously scrutinized by Himmler’s investigators. This of course led them to be ousted from their jobs or undergo other forms of oppression.
It slowly evolved that Bettina Meyer had to play along with whatever the Minister wished, on occasion, as a way of showing her gratitude. She shuttered to think what the outcome would be should Goebbels ever become seriously angry with her. She therefore dared not refuse of any of requests.
Her bra came off.
“Oh, so young, so fresh – and, now their mine!”
Just then several sets of footsteps could be heard marching down the hallway outside. Without thinking Bettina quickly sprang down in the opening of the desk meant for Goebbels’ legs to occupy while he was writing. Goebbels tossed Bettina her blouse and bra, turned his chair so as to cover the hole she was now hiding, and then began pretending to be writing.
The door opened. It was the Führer himself!
Chapter 6 – The Note
Krafft and Elaine arrived late for the dinner party, since the train from Berlin to Stettin was delayed, plus had to make an unexpected stop in Prezlau. The trip from Stettin to the house where they were invited was an ordeal also. As the servant took their hats and coats, they could hear a piano being played in the studio, to which they were then guided.
“Look, this is the man who accurately predicted the attempt on the Führer’s life!” A voice greeted them as they entered the room.
The small group being entertained in the house of Frau Elli Ney – a metaphysical enthusiast and this evening’s hostess – all rose and gave a twenty-second burst of applause.
Krafft’s face froze, trying to hold back his pride – and joy – joy of finally receiving the public recognition he felt he deserved for so long, but never experienced in his native Switzerland.
“Come in! Come in!” Frau Ney welcomed. “You must be Elaine! I’m so happy you both could come! I have read all of your husband’s work! Fantastic! You must be very proud of him.” Ney turned to Krafft, but continued to Elaine. “Does he look into your future as well? The tone and mannerism suggested to Elaine that Frau Ney was quite drunk.