He stayed at the bar for another 15 minutes after the woman walked out. He didn’t keep time, but it must have been about 8:20 when he finished his last one. He said goodnight to the staff behind the bar and put on his overcoat and Fedora in preparation to depart. As he stood up he became slightly unsteady on his feet. Such were the effects of six fairly strong drinks within a short amount of time. But Quinn had learned to handle his liquor…being husky, six feet in height, and weighing about 200 pounds. Quinn was an alcoholic who could mitigate the effects of liquor and reasonably function well. He composed himself, paid off his tab, and walked to the main door. The place was filling up now with train travelers and more soldiers from Kirtland Army Airfield and their dates. Quinn was beginning to feel the headache coming on. A good night’s sleep would solve his immediate problems. He just had to get home and things would be alright.
What Quinn didn’t plan on was what happened next. As he had experienced over the years, encounters leading to romance with the opposite sex for him were mostly random and unexpected. Quinn was shy and had given up on women for the time-being. And he had no way of knowing this, but—not only would the next few minutes be significant for him—he would remember this night for the rest of his life.
As he walked out of the bar, he saw the young blond woman from earlier with her back against the building wall not far from the bar’s multicolored neon sign in green with red lettering that blinked “9:15” off and on. The woman, dressed in winter clothes and wearing a Betty Cloche hat, leaned against the wall, cigarette in hand. The cigarette smoke, highlighted by the pulsating light, curled and twisted upwards through the night like a slow-moving snake. The young lady’s tears streamed down her face. She looked down the street, as if waiting for someone. Quinn had no choice but to pass by her on the way to his car, a 1937 black Packard “120” four-door sedan. The car was not a luxury auto for that time period, but it was in style and had a powerful eight-cylinder engine.
He stopped momentarily as he walked. The snow and ice crushed beneath his feet made a distinctive noise as he walked on the frozen sidewalk. This, along with a nearby auto’s honking horn, added to the cacophony of Albuquerque’s sounds on that cold night. Quinn lit a cigarette before proceeding. He felt inside what was about to happen…he felt it as he walked in the woman’s direction.
“You alright, Ma’am?” Quinn asked.
“I’m okay…thanks,” she replied.
Even though it was night, there was enough light out that Quinn could see she had large blue eyes. “Excuse me for intruding, but you don’t seem okay,” he said.
“I just had an argument with my boyfriend…”
“I know, I couldn’t help overhearing that inside,” said Quinn. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked.
“A bus stops at eight fifty at the corner…I’m waiting for it,” replied the woman.
“Where are you going?” asked Quinn.
“8th and University Avenue,” replied the woman.
“I can drive you there…,” said Quinn.
“Why would I want a ride from a total stranger? No, thank you!” she said.
“I’ve had alcohol tonight, but I’m fine to drive,” Quinn replied. “I’m a cop with the Albuquerque PD,” he said as he showed his badge. “You’ll be safe.”
The woman stared at him and paused for about 30 seconds before responding. “Alright, that’s nice of you. Thank you…it’s embarrassing standing here crying in public…people stare as they walk by,” she said.
They turned to walk to Quinn’s car. “You are okay to drive?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” he responded. “What’s your name?”
“Katrina Finebaum,” she replied. “I’m German, but I’ve been in America for ten years. We moved here from the East Coast.”
“Oh…,” he replied. “Well, my name’s Quinn Franklin Chase, and I’ve lived here in New Mexico pretty much my whole life. Call me Quinn please.”
The trip to Katrina’s flat was uneventful except that, after being told by Quinn she could smoke, she lit a cigarette and rolled the passenger window down. He tried to continue the conversation to get to know the young lady during the drive, but she seemed tense and remained silent for the most part. She still had occasional tears roll down her cheeks. Upon reaching the corner of 8th and University Avenue, the attractive blonde uttered a quick, “Thank You, that was so nice of you. I go to the 9:15 every now and then. Maybe I’ll see you there sometime,” she said as she jumped out of Quinn’s car. Quinn watched her disappear into the adjoining brick building using a side entrance. Damn, there goes a looker… Hope she’ll be ok, he thought to himself as he drove away.
Chapter VI
It was the first week of May, 1941. This year was proceeding just like any other. Katrina had not been seen at The 9:15 since Quinn had driven her home. And he had his work routine down at the police department. Quinn would come in late around 9:30 in the morning; see the status report of call and walk-in citizen complaints; and then forward those complaints to the sergeant on duty that day. The sergeant on duty would then farm the complaints out to beat officers or detectives for more in-depth, follow-up investigation. Quinn would leave about 4:30 in the afternoon every day. Several times during the week he’d go straight to the bar. He still carried his .32 caliber service revolver in its holster, but he saw no use for it. He couldn’t see a reason why he’d ever need to remove the weapon from its holster again. This was his daily routine at the PD, and he figured he’d continue marking time at his boring job until he retired in a few years.
It was a Tuesday afternoon in early May, when Dan Sparks, a bald and serious looking detective, showed up in front of Quinn’s desk. Quinn had worked with Sparks before on a homicide case several years ago. “Quinn, the Chief wants to see you. You got time now, or shall I tell him you’ll speak with him later?” asked Sparks.
“You know what this is about, Dan?” asked Quinn.
“No, no idea. I was just told to let you know,” said Sparks.
“Allright, I’ll be right there,” Quinn said.
Captain Brock Garrett’s office was on the top floor of the three-story police department building in Albuquerque. It was a climb for a 40 year old who drank and smoked too much and wasn’t in the best of shape. But Quinn huffed, puffed and lugged his way to the top floor. Quinn walked into the waiting room area and noticed the Chief’s secretary was not at her desk. He then knocked on the door, the top half of which had the captain’s name stenciled into glass. When Quinn knocked, he heard the voice of Chief Garrett. Brock Garrett seemed to always be laughing and smiling. Hell, thought Quinn, maybe that’s the secret for making captain—laugh and be jolly all the time!
“Come on in, Quinn, and have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? I’ve got somethin’ I need to discuss with you.” Garrett was a tall, heavyset man with a distinct crewcut who had been on the force for nearly 30 years. He wore his shoulder holster with his weapon displayed. Quinn had once idolized the captain, but he ceased being a role model when Garrett had busted Quinn down to sergeant two years ago. This was based on lead detective Daniel Reece’s recommendation. It didn’t take long after that before Quinn was sent to work in admin.
“Quinn, I’ve got to tell you…it has bothered me ever since I had to take you out of the detective division and move you downstairs. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t think it was fair at that time, but my hands were tied. You solved some important crimes and did some great detective work.”
“Thank you Chief, I really miss the live action on the streets and solving crimes,” said Quinn. “That’s where I belong and can do the department the most good. I never was meant to be a desk jockey.”
“Well, I’ve got a job for you if you want it,” said Garrett. “It isn’t exactly street action, but it’s a chance to redeem your reputation, in a manner of speaking. It’s high profile, and …what I am going to tell you is top secret. Whether you take the job or not, you will sign a confide
ntiality agreement before you leave my office today. This is important, and I need someone I can trust,” said Garrett.
Quinn gave Garrett his full attention.
“Here’s what’s going on, Quinn. I don’t know how closely you’ve been paying attention or not, but this country’s gearing up for war with Nazi Germany, and probably Japan, too. It probably won’t happen for a year or two, but the way things are heading, it’s inevitable—it’s going to happen. There’s secret research going on here in Albuquerque and another project rumored to be starting somewhere in northern New Mexico. I don’t know a thing about it. But the military’s bringing in scientists from foreign countries, so it’s pretty important. The Army’s flying in a scientist who’s a German-Jew. We’re asking you to keep him secluded and protected for two days and then hand him over to the Army. Then they’ll bring him to one of their labs. Are you interested in playing police babysitter for a few days? Before you give me an answer, you might want to know why I’m asking you…and why the military isn’t providing their own security for Professor Ariel Eisenbach.”
“I’m asking you for two reasons. First, I can’t afford to take one of my active detectives off the beat right now. But secondly…it’s high profile, and I want to give you a crack at this one. The Army wants to sneak the professor in incognito, traveling as a civilian. They believe there are Nazi spies in the area and an attempt may be made on Eisenbach’s life. The Nazi’s are expelling Jews from Germany right and left, but Professor Eisenbach is too well known and valuable to their side.
“The decision has been made to fly him into the West Mesa Airport. He’ll be in disguise, and you’ll safeguard him till you hand him over to the Army. We think this will confuse the enemy. I need someone I can trust for this job, and someone I think will successfully keep the professor safe for a few days. I think that person is you, Quinn. What do you say?”
“Captain, I appreciate you selecting me, but there are others who would probably fight for this opportunity,” replied Quinn. “Why me? I’ve been out of the loop for a while now.”
“I’ve had my eye on you lately, and I think you deserve another chance…and I don’t have any doubt that you can do the job. This is a good way for you to gain some recognition. Quite frankly, this shouldn’t be much more than official babysitting that takes up one of your weekends. I wanted to give you first crack at it,” said Garrett. “Success here might lead to your being considered for a detective slot again. Maybe even a promotion to lieutenant. But if you don’t want it—”
“I’m happy to do it, but will I be by myself?” Quinn asked.
“No, we’ll partner you up with someone we think you’ll work well with, but you’ll be the one in charge and responsible. I want you to get the credit on this one, big guy!” said Chief Garrett. “I want to see you as a detective again, Quinn.”
“Well, thank you, sir…that’s what I want more than anything too. Thanks for the opportunity,…I won’t let you down.”
Chapter VII
Two days later Quinn was summoned to Captain Garrett’s office again. A red-haired Army Colonel was there in his dress greens with two other men when Quinn arrived.
“Quinn, come in, come on in…,” said the police chief. “Colonel Hariman, this is Quinn Chase. He’s an experienced detective, one of our best quite frankly. He’ll protect the professor and deliver him safely on the designated date and time. He’s going to partner up with Ethan Clark here…they’re two of my best men and they’ll get the job done.”
“Nice to meet you, son,” said the Army colonel as he extended his hand to Quinn. “We’re counting on you to keep our new scientist out of the way and safe for a while. You’re doing a great service to your country and government, whether you know it or not,” said the Army colonel.
Quinn shook hands and nodded. “Thank you Sir,” Quinn responded. “We’ll make sure the professor arrives safely at the designated place and time.”
“So here’s the basic plan,” said Colonel Hariman. “Professor Eisenbach will fly into West Mesa Airport on Saturday, May 31st, in the morning. He’ll be in disguise, but you’ll recognize him by the red scarf he’ll be wearing. He’ll also carry a white cloth bag in his left hand. Here’s a picture of him clean-shaven,” said Colonel Hariman as he handed Quinn a black and white photograph. It was of a short bald man who appeared to be about 50 years old.
“I’m told he has a beard and mustache now, and hair on his head,” said Hariman. “He wears a tupee.”
“He’ll be expecting you, so he shouldn’t be surprised when you approach, ” said the police chief. “Take him to the Grand Marquee Hotel, make sure he doesn’t venture out on his own and guard him. Keep him safe until the following Monday. You’ll then bring him to the exchange point and hand him over to the military. Colonel Hariman will be there as well. You’ll have a code phrase, which Eisenbach will respond to.” He paused to chuckle. “This is big time spy stuff! What do you say, Quinn? And, it’s a top-secret mission. Colonel Hariman looked over your service record and finds you suitable for the job. No one is to know about this, not even your own mother. Any mention of this to anyone will compromise your mission—and obviously would have extreme negative consequences for you, if you get what I’m saying. Clark, the same goes for you,” Garrett said as he looked at Ethan Clark.
“With all due respect,” said Quinn, “I’m still curious as to why the Army isn’t just handling this on their own? Wouldn’t he be more secure and safe with the military? Flying him into Kirtland Army Airfield and keeping him under military guard and on the base the entire time?” said Quinn.
“Believe it or not, we don’t think he would be safer at Kirtland. We want a complete deception,” said Colonel Hariman. “Nazi operatives are here in New Mexico, and we have reason to believe they have contacts on the base. They’re trying like hell to find out every secret we have, and we’ve had trouble spotting and arresting them. Specifically, the secret stuff going on up north. They know Professor Eisenbach has defected, and so they’re desperate to prevent him from helping our side. Even though Eisenbach is Jewish and the Germans were ready to expel him, his defection to the US is a real embarrassment for them. He’ll be safer with you for a couple of days completely under cover until we can transport him up north,” said the colonel. “They won’t suspect him flying in on a civilian airplane, and if we can deceive them and throw them off…this will all go much more smoothly.”
“Colonel, we’ll pick him up and deliver him to you without a scratch,” said Quinn.
Chapter VIII
The preparations were made ahead of time. The hotel room on the third floor was rented and paid for under a false name. For this operation both Quinn and Ethan were given fake IDs. The room was carefully chosen because it was in a semi-concealed part of the Grand Marquee Hotel and in a corner. It was close to a staircase where Quinn and Ethan could move the professor down and outside quickly if need be.
May 31 came, and was an unusually cold day with a cloudy sky in Albuquerque. There was a strong breeze in the morning. Quinn and Ethan Clark had accepted this mission, and were in the terminal watching as planes arrived and departed. A man who appeared to be around 50 years of age got off a four-engine, propeller-driven Boeing 307 Stratoliner at 10:35. He was a short man of average build wearing a tan overcoat and brown fedora. Around his neck and hanging down over the coat was a red scarf. The man had a beard. He carried a white cloth bag by the handle in his left hand. This was Ariel Eisenbach, Professor of Quantum Mechanics from the Friedrich-Wilhelm Universitat in Berlin, or at least Quinn assumed that’s who it was. Quinn and Ethan waited until the man started walking to retrieve his baggage, and then the two detectives approached him.
“Hey buddy,” said Quinn. “The Yankees will win the pennant this year. What do you say?”
The man looked at Quinn and responded. “The Tigers will win this year—not the Yankees!”
Quinn then whispered, “Professor Eisenbach?”
Th
e man did not verbally reply but nodded quickly.
“I’m glad you’re here, Sir…let’s get your luggage and walk out to my car. We’re both members of the Albuquerque Police Department,” Quinn said as both he and Ethan quickly flashed their badges. “You’re quite a popular man these days, Professor,” said Quinn.
“That’s not always such a good thing,” said Eisenbach.
They collected Eisenbach’s luggage and carried it out to Quinn’s car. “Throw my luggage anywhere. There’s nothing fragile in there,” said the professor.
They all got into Quinn’s 1937 black Packard sedan. It wasn’t until they were inside Quinn’s car that he formally introduced himself and his partner. “My name is Quinn Chase, and this is my partner, Ethan Clark.”
The professor was seated in the back.
“We’re both detectives on the force, sir.”
“I forgot to let my daughter know I was coming here to Albuquerque. Will I be able to make a phone call sometime and let her know I’m here?” asked Eisenbach.
“Well, Professor, probably not for some time…this visit of yours is supposed to be secret. No one is supposed to know you’re here right now. Those were my orders. At the soonest available time I will request that you be allowed to use the phone. But as for now and this weekend…I don’t think so,” said Quinn.
The three men loaded up and drove Quinn’s Packard to the Grand Marquee Hotel, a five-story building in the center of the city where the top two floors had been converted to apartments. All was going well without a hitch. They arrived and checked into the room that had been reserved for them, one of the Marquee’s larger rooms.
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