She looked at him sadly. “I don’t remember.”
CHAPTER 17
AT FIRST, NEITHER SANDY NOR GRACE COULD IDENTIFY THE MAN in the photo either, although they too were certain they’d seen him somewhere. All three agreed that they’d never seen the second man. But where had they seen the first man, was the maddening question.
Dane had quickly contacted Harris and they all met in the FBI office close to Tim’s. The photos were on the table, staring back at them. Both Tim and Harris were stunned that the women might have been close to the German, and the women were frustrated that they couldn’t recall when, where, or why. Harris was pacing and it was clear that his frustration was growing as well.
Finally, it was Grace who broke the spell, clapping her hands and laughing. “Oh shit. Now it’s coming to me. He was the creep in Zuckerman’s office who looked so angry and like he wanted to undress us right then and there.”
“Yes!” exclaimed Amanda, and Sandy chimed in as well.
This required a quick explanation of why they were in Zuckerman’s office in the first place, and Harris took notes. He was mildly curious about this Mack character and what might be in the safe deposit box, but that was a job for the state of California, which seemed to have it covered.
First thing the next morning Harris, Dane, and a couple of other agents went to Zuckerman’s office. The additional firepower was present on the off chance that they might run into Braun just as Amanda and the others had. If so, Dane had specific orders to stand back and he pledged to obey.
Dane was mildly amused when the lawyer and his secretary, Judith, arrived together, and were conversing with a degree of intimacy that went beyond a working relationship. He wondered if there was a Mrs. Zuckerman or if the secretary had a husband, and decided it was none of his business.
Inside his office, Zuckerman looked at the picture and nodded. He handed it to Judith who agreed. “His name is Olaf Swenson and he rents some property from me,” Zuckerman said.
“What do you know about him?” Harris asked.
“Not all that much. I know that he’s a Swedish engineer who started up a small business and is working doing something for the navy. He works with another foreigner who might be Swedish as well. Swenson is the one who pays the rent, and his money’s always been good. He pays on time and in cash.”
“He’s a jerk.” Judith glared. “He’s rude and obnoxious. It’s obvious he dislikes Jews. He probably can’t stand the thought of having to pay money to one.”
Harris nodded grimly. “That’s because he’s German and a Nazi and SS to boot.”
Zuckerman recoiled as if he’d been struck. “A Nazi? Here? That can’t be. I would never do business with a Nazi. What is your proof?”
Harris was about to respond that the FBI didn’t need proof in wartime to arrest someone, but thought better of it. “It’s true, Mr. Zuckerman. These photos are those of a part of a group of Nazis left behind in Mexico when the war started. These two have come north to commit as much sabotage as they can. I normally wouldn’t give you all that information, but I want you to understand what we’re all up against.”
The lawyer shook his head as if to clear his mind of the shock. “I believe. How do I evict the sons of bitches?”
“Hopefully, we can do it for you,” Harris said. “Now, please give me the address of the property.”
After the agents left with the address and all other information they possessed, Judith hugged a disconsolate and sobbing Zuckerman. “I can’t believe I rented to Nazis. I can’t believe I had anything to do with the filthy swine. After what’s happening to my family in Europe, it’s almost impossible to comprehend.”
Zuckerman’s last letter from his Aunt Hilda in Austria had been smuggled out and informed him that several of his family had been ordered to report to a new work camp in Poland. His aunt added that she hadn’t yet been swept up, and said she’d received a postcard saying their relatives had arrived at a place near the town of Auschwitz and were doing well. Aunt Hilda used subtle phrasing in her letter to fool anyone reading it. It was clear that she didn’t believe it at all, and that their relatives were likely doomed. As was she, Zuckerman thought.
Judith sat beside him on the office couch. She cradled his head to her bosom and rocked him and kissed his forehead. She too had relatives back in Europe, although in France where she hoped they were safe. That is, if there was any place in the world where a Jew could be safe.
“Look on the bright side, dear,” Judith said as tears ran down her cheek. “Now you have the chance to destroy him.” She stood up and straightened her dress. “And we are going to do exactly what that nice FBI man said we should do, aren’t we?”
Zuckerman managed a smile. “You’re right. A little vacation is more than in order.”
Caution, patience, and a strong sense of paranoia were vital assets for any agent working behind enemy lines, and both Braun and Krause possessed all three in abundance. They had spent much time observing the goings on in the neighborhood near Swenson Engineering. They observed the actions and routines of the area regulars and quietly memorized them. They knew who their neighbors were and who their friends and customers were. This, of course, meant that they too were known quantities to those same neighbors, and they went out of their way to maintain friendly, even cordial, relations, even cheering American victories when they were announced. We’re all in this war together, aren’t we?
Like any neighborhood or cluster of businesses, there was a pattern to life and any deviation from that pattern attracted attention.
Thus, the presence of the two unmarked cars with two men in each was immediately noted by the two Germans. One car was in front and down the street and the other in the rear of the building and down a ways. The occupants of both vehicles appeared to be interested in Swenson Engineering, and were quickly identified by the two Germans as a menace.
Instead of driving onto their property, Braun and Krause drove past and around, parked a little distance away, and observed. They were quietly thankful that the Ford didn’t have the Swenson Engineering sign attached at the moment. After a while, the two men in one of the cars were spelled by two more men in another car. It confirmed to the two Germans that they’d been discovered.
Braun sighed. “They are not very good at their jobs. They are either FBI or local police and it doesn’t matter. We’ve been betrayed and now we have to run.”
“Where to?” asked Krause.
“Wherever you want,” Braun said. “As we previously discussed, we are going to split up and go our own ways. Our part in this war is over. We have no way of notifying the people in Mexico who will doubtless soon be arrested if it hasn’t happened already. We have phony identification that should enable each of us to fashion a life. When Germany is victorious, we can each, separately, find our way back to the Reich for whatever is due us. Since we failed, I doubt it will be much of a reward,” he added bitterly, thinking that their reward could be years in a prison camp as the Reich didn’t tolerate failures.
Krause was silent. He’d been listening to the radio and reading the newspapers and if they were only half correct, the Third Reich was in grave danger. The offensives in Russia had stalled and a second Russian winter was upon the German army. Also, the Americans were in North Africa helping the British and there was a massive buildup of American forces that the German navy was unable to stop. No, German victory in his opinion was far from a foregone conclusion, and Braun’s dreams of returning to Germany might never come true. Defeat seemed far more likely. He also felt that Japan would sooner or later feel the wrath of the Americans.