“The woman drove me to drink, and I didn’t get a chance to thank her.” Lord Everton mumbled unconsciously while looking out the large bay windows.
Lady Hightower mesmerized Captain Boyle, who stared now at her every move. For a moment he thought he could see a shimmer of light that came out of nowhere and surrounded part of her shoulders and head. Was this a halo, her spirit, or just reflections of light bouncing off something shiny somewhere in the room?
“Your son is like the young American across from us,” Ella began, “he is young, he is a captain, and he is also… alive.” The Admiral swallowed hard. Lord Everton put his finger over his lips as if asking the Admiral to be quiet.
“Your son is in the main city of his enemy. He is suffering humiliation at the hands of one with a very dark, very, very old soul. This ancient one has, for most of his own life has been humiliated, but he has learned the secrets of the dark occult to ease his pain. Your son is under great duress, but he can now at least see sunlight… for months he was not. He is looking at sunlight now… and can see it as we see it.”
As she spoke, a thin stream of sunlight moved across the bay windows as the overcast sky parted for a brief moment allowing the Sun to touch down on eight square blocks of London.
Ella seemed to snap out of her trance. She slowly slipped back into her seat, somewhat shaken. “Admiral Payne,” She said slowly. “I believe my husband can help you more than I can. This dark one is has great power, and we must fight him.” She turned towards Lord Everton. “I’m the seer, my husband is the fighter.”
“Help? What do you mean, help me?” Confusion modulated in the Admiral’s voice.
“To help you get your son, to get your son out of Germany.” Ella said, still looking over at her husband, smiling.
He’s alive? Payne asked himself, and then looked around the table to get confirmation from the others as well.
“Yes, of course, man, drink… drink!” Lord Everton shouted as if suddenly very cross. “She saw it for you, she always sees it… drink!” Captain Boyle wondered why every statement from Lord Everton had something to do with drinking. What does he really mean by this?
Payne turned to Everton.
“How can you help me? Do you know where he is?”
“Ella, this sipping with the Admiral’s son has something to do with our good friend Herr Krafft.” Lord Everton said, as if completely ignoring the Admiral. “But neither this Admiral or his son knew the brew master.”
“Yes, Mark, darling, it could be very dangerous to be looking for someone and then not knowing who that someone is.” Ella said looking into her cup of tea.
“Who is this Krafft fellow?” Captain Boyle asked, wanting to re-enter the conversation.
The large raindrops bombarded the hotel window, drowning out the street noise below. Only just after 3 p.m. – the low dark clouds gave the look and feel of being after sundown. A flashing neon light on a hotel across the street was the only light that entered the room, casting changing shadows on Ewa and Karl Ernst as they looked at one another.
“I feel wonderful now. I hope you feel the same.”
Karl Ernst Krafft gave no answer.
Physically satisfied, Krafft had never felt better. At last he could share Ewa in bed without time hanging over their heads dictating when they could begin and finish. Satisfaction also came with the first time experiencing a female body he thought was perfect.
“Yes, I feel… wonderful…” He finally replied. He stroked her entire side and continued, “What… a beautiful body…”
“So, it is only my body that attracts you?” Fesel had told Ewa never to act totally satisfied with any compliment given by Krafft. Counter him, challenge him, and keep him off guard emotionally. “Make him commit more and more to prove his love to you when you have him.” Fesel often repeated. However, Ewa did not need to learn this from Fesel. Her long time neighbor and unhappy aunt already taught her many of the secrets for controlling men.
Krafft in response could only think of describing other parts he was attracted to. “Your body, your hair, your eyes… and your voice. Your voice is like the music of Venus.”
Ewa would have loved to ask about what kind of music is found on Venus, but refrained from this question so as to finish her job of keeping him off guard.
“How can a voice be attractive?” She asked, trying to sound indifferent.
“Ewa, a man can never explain every reason he is attracted to a woman. Part of the attraction to a woman is her giving him a feeling he is not able to explain.
Ewa had never heard this reply before, which delayed her attempt to counter it. All she could come up with was:
“Perhaps, but can a man explain the reason he loves…?
“So you want to be loved, and have this love described?”
“Yes, of course.” Ewa sounded business-like to hide the feeling she had that Krafft could see through her now.
“Ewa, beautiful, lovely, Ewa. Men, throughout the ages, have been trying to describe love. Poets, painters, writers, philosophers… and all of them I am willing to guess would admit they failed completely. How can you expect me to do what no man in the history of mankind has been able to?”
Now Ewa took a turn at silence. All her life she had heard the fancy and flowery words on her dates, which were mostly said to maneuver her panties down her legs. This kind of discussion she had never encountered before.
“Perhaps that would be rather difficult, I imagine.” She finally agreed.
“Of course, this doesn’t mean one shouldn’t at least try to describe love.” Krafft added. “But put yourself in my shoes, what is it that attracts you to me?”
Taken aback for a moment, Ewa’s breath stopped. The instructions Fesel gave her to control Karl Ernst now became a distant memory. There was a certain kind of dark character underneath his scholarly veneer she found attractive.
“Why, your mind, of course!”
“And not my body?” Krafft said with a smile.
Ewa laughed. Although her past comments were an act, she now saw what these expressions of dissatisfaction sounded like on the receiving end. She would no longer make them to Karl Ernst – for she decided at this moment she was not working to get what Fesel wanted– she was going after what she wanted.
Not conscious of the heavy rain heavy, Otto, like nearly everyone else on the street, was changing directions and tilting his umbrella to avoid scraping against the other umbrellas coming in the opposite direction. Otto dipped, raised, tilted left, tilted right, as if internal radar kept track of the oncoming traffic sending signals to his hand so his mind could remain free to think.
His mind constantly clung on Bettina. Not a word or sign from her since hearing she returned from the “vacation” in Hof with Goebbels. Intuition, news and warnings from London kept him from dropping by to see her. She had to contact him.
A major decision, stood in front of him, and Otto knew he had little time to make it.
His last message from London indicated Captain Payne was in Berlin. The Gestapo had picked up several underground cell groups – some who were only one or two people away from Otto. This indicated the Gestapo was perhaps close to him as well. He would have to get out of Germany soon. Would Bettina come with him?