“Some more reports from Holland and Denmark, Admiral”.
“On my desk, please. Thank-you.” The Admiral did not break his stare from the mystical haze just outside the window. Focusing outside did not allow him notice the attractive woman leave after putting the papers down and waiting a few moments for other possible instructions. The normally soothing hum of the foghorns in the distant had captured his tired mind and floated him to the European mainland and beyond. The open seas were not just the realms of his greatest worries for now. Besides having the Third Reich pop up in just a few short years and giving Great Britain a war – which until now had been mostly fought at sea – Europe now also poised a grave danger for the Admiral’s family name continuing.
The note in his hand confirmed the danger the grandsons and granddaughters he so desperately wanted may not materialize, for the message relayed information his son had not been heard from for eleven days and was feared captured.
Admiral Payne now wished he said “no” when his son volunteered for the assignment.
The Count nodded to the driver, and the car grumbled to a start, idled for a minute, then pulled out of the parking lot. It was not until they were moving in and out of the busy sounds of the city that the elderly financier spoke.
“I don’t know if you remember me, actually.”
Von Wohl was a bit relieved. He’d ‘played along’ with the Count about knowing him at the Ball was only since his intuition guided him to do such. Now he felt he could – and should – be honest.
“Well, to tell you the truth Count,” von Wohl took a deep breath, “you do look familiar, however I can not exactly recall where or when it was we actually ran into each other, if indeed we ever did.”
The count also took a deep breath, however, a complete feeling of relief was not there. The Count’s mind began to race. “He doesn’t remember… or does he? If not now, would von Wohl remember later, in another circumstance, or in other company?”
That possibility of von Wohl remembering while with persons who might want to take advantage of the Count, his situation, or his money was unacceptable. In a city like Berlin, where the circle of extreme wealth ran in a very small circle and where Count now had possible competitors – any odds of von Wohl falling into the wrong hands were a real risk.
“Von Wohl, do you remember going to the “Purple Unicorn?”
The name sounded familiar, but Ludwig couldn’t place it. So many clubs have come and gone in Berlin over the past 10 or 12 years he could honestly not immediately remember any of them. Also there was the fact he was usually completely drunk when he visited any.
“It sounds familiar, but you know how clubs are in Berlin… so many are popular then they disappear. I don’t know if anyone can ever remember what one looked like or remember even where it was.” Von Wohl answered truthfully.
“Well, the club is not important. However, the important thing is that you and I are still here, and we must live together as best we can in a city such as Berlin.” The Count decided not to describe the entire situation to von Wohl. It was enough to know that von Wohl could be trusted, or even bought, for now. The next statement settled the matter completely for the Count.
“Look, Count,” it was becoming apparent to Ludwig that he must have seen the Count in a compromising situation – or with a certain someone – in the distant past that could do harm now, “whatever I may or may not have seen concerning you…” von Wohl looked directly at the Count, “…is your business. I make my living moving from person to person and could not exist if I tried to exploit and took advantage of everything I saw.”
Now the Count became relaxed. To often he was pitted against people who wanted to do just the opposite. Plus it was rare to come across one who appeared direct and emotional honest.
Von Wohl’s hand went out. “There’s so much hostility in the world today, the war, the British, the Russians, the French – I don’t want such things in my personal life. So, whatever the case was as to how we crossed paths in the past, let’s just start over and become friends now. Who knows? I could be a very valuable friend if you got to know me.”
The Count took note of the word ‘valuable’ and began to process the possibilities. Normally anyone who was, or even close to poising threat to the Count’s enterprise would simply be eliminated: von Wohl had no idea that his choice of words at that moment changed the Count’s mind concerning this option. Ludwig von Wohl’s choice of words and delivery had just saved his life.
Von Wohl continued after straightening his collar. “Now, I don’t know you – but I like you. I admire your charming wife and now am currently learning a fascinating hobby from your son! Good heavens! You all are practically family to me now!”
The Count almost relaxed inside, something that had not happened in years. It felt good. Von Wohl knew how to comfort an aristocrat. He had, after all, been in this position many times before. The Count appeared as if a major worry had just evaporated. His mind raced through several possibilities of using von Wohl instead of killing him. As a chess grandmaster can easily fit a new development into his overall scheme, the Count found the perfect move to handle von Wohl.
“Herr von Wohl, have you ever been to London?”
Maxi felt odd walking through the doors of the Reichstag. He had sat outside of the building hundreds of times in his cab waiting for a fare, but had never been inside. However, after nearly a week and a half of not seeing Bettina, Maxi and Otto felt that it was worth the risk to pass a note to her at Reichstag. After all, her parents had not seen or heard from her either and wanted to include something in the note as well.
“Please, could you give this not to Bettina Meyer?”
The guard behind the window just inside the front door looked at Maxi for a few seconds, then the note in his hands.
“I haven’t seen her for over a week now, and her boyfriend, and of course, her parents, would just like to hear from her.”
The guard took the note from his hand and studied the name on it. Then, keeping his left hand’s index finger on the name written on the envelope, the index finger on his other hand searched a list that was taped on the wall in front of him. When there was a match, his right hand’s index finger then moved to another set of squares to the right of all the employees’ names that were listed.
“Lt. Schiller is who you would need to give this too. I will call him now. Please wait on the benches over there.”
If it weren’t for the word “please”, the guard’s statement would have sounded like a command.
“Uh – Thank you.”
Maxi went to one of the long, wax-polished wooden benches, which were also occupied by a policeman, two middle-aged women, a Sargent, and a young man in his early 20’s in civilian clothes, but a Nazi button pinned on his collar.
After nineteen minutes, Lt. Schiller came down the main staircase and over to the guard’s window. The guard pointed at Maxi, and upon seeing this, Maxi rose to greet the approaching Lt. Schiller.
“Lt. Schiller?”
“You have a note for me?”
“For Bettina Meyer.” Maxi said while handing Schiller the note. “Her parents, boyfriend, and well, all of her friends have not seen her for almost two weeks. We are worried about her.” Maxi was expecting a possible question concerning his relationship to Bettina. Such scrutiny was common in Nazi Germany. The question, however, never materialized.