by Andrew Gross
“You can’t expect me to participate in this killing.” I shook my head.
“We expect you to do what you’re told, Mr. Mossman,” Trudi Bauer interceded. “Oberleutnant Leitner, if Mr. Mossman hesitates again, kindly put a bullet in his brain.”
“My pleasure, Frau Bauer,” Curtis replied, leering at me.
Helpless, I slowly went back to the truck as Friedrich unlocked the rear door and rolled down the kegs to Curtis and me one at a time. We set them gingerly onto the ground. They were heavy, maybe around fifty pounds each, and when we put them down they each made a clang.
“Careful, careful,” Willi Bauer said. “You’re dealing with the most precious cargo of the German war machine.”
In minutes, the four kegs were taken down from the truck. Curtis and Friedrich hurriedly wheeled them on their sides through the chain-link gate and up a series of steps onto the concrete perimeter to where the giant viaducts funneled water to the city.
What were they going to do with me? Kill me, as soon as they finished their task? That’s what the sentry’s rifle was for, I was sure. To make it seem that I was part of the party of saboteurs and had been killed by one of the guards. It wouldn’t stand up, of course, once it was looked at, but by the time anyone figured it out, Willi and Trudi would be out of the country. I’d seen their packed bags. And I was left praying they’d live up to their word on Emma.
“Look, Mr. Mossman,” Willi Bauer said with a gleam in his eye. Curtis and Friedrich had donned their protective gloves and were prying off the keg tops. “There you see the decisive first blow of the war, even more deadly than Pearl Harbor.”
Curtis opened the first one. The keg contained what appeared to be a million tiny pellets. Like kernels of rice. Each containing the most lethal poison ever developed. A pinprick would kill a man. Able to remain potent in water without dissolving. It was as scary a sight as I had ever seen.
I was helpless, unable to do anything about what I was seeing. Even if I sprang forward and pushed a keg over, only a tiny part of the contents would fall out before I was shot.
“Friedrich, you can begin your work,” Willi said. Then he looked at me. “Kurt, I believe it’s time to show Herr Mossman the rest of the facility here.”
My blood came to a stop. “What are you saying?”
“You’ve been a real asset, Mr. Mossman. And you will continue to be for us, well after tonight. The German war effort thanks you for your service.”
“Willi.” I looked at him, as now there was no doubt what they were going to do.
“We warned you over and over to stay out of our affairs, Charlie. It’s a shame you did not listen. But now … Kurt…” He nodded, gesturing with his chin as if to say, Get him out of here.
“No one’s going to buy this, Bauer. People know. Government people know. It won’t make a difference whether I’m dead or alive.”
“That only works once, Mr. Mossman. A shame.”
Curtis took my arm and pulled me close to him. He thrust the barrel of his pistol sharply into my ribs. “This way, Mr. Mossman, please.”
“What about Emma?” I said, panic throbbing through me. “You promised me she would be released. You owe me that at least. Tell me, Willi … Trudi. You owe me that.”
“Don’t delay, Kurt,” Willi said, ignoring me. “Do it quickly, please, and come back. You’re needed here.” He turned and headed back to oversee Friedrich.
“You gave me your word, Willi.” I fought against Curtis, who was trying to pull me away. “Please, Bauer. You don’t need her. You promised me about Emma. I need to know.”
“Well, I guess you’ll never know, will you, Mr. Mossman?” Willi said, without even turning back. “If we make that call, or if we don’t. But either way, it’s nothing you’ll need to worry about.”
Curtis dragged me down from the reservoir level back to the truck, his gun in my ribs, me tugging against him. “You could just let me go, Curtis,” I said. “All I want is my daughter back. I won’t tell a soul about this for two days. For however long you need.”
He didn’t say a word, steel in his eyes. He just dragged me down the concrete steps, my legs barely cooperating.
“Curtis, please. You know Emma. You know she doesn’t deserve this. You can do something. Please…”
He threw me against the side of the truck. My heart was almost clawing out of my chest. I was going to die. I looked in his eyes—cold and purposeful. He picked up the sentry’s rifle that was leaning on the driver’s door. For a moment I thought I could make a lunge for it—anything was better than just dying without a fight, no matter how futile. But then it was in his hands. He cocked the bolt back, ka-ching, satisfied himself that it was ready, and pointed it at me.
“Please,” I begged one last time. “If I’m gone, make him do what he said for Emma. For the love of God, Curtis.…”
“What will you care?” was all he said, then leveled it at my chest. “You’ll be dead. Auf Wiedersehen, Mr. Mossman.”
“Curtis, please…”
Suddenly I heard a kind of whoosh in the air, and out of nowhere a spurt of blood erupted on Curtis’s throat. His mouth fell open and he gagged. Then another whosh, followed by a loud crack, and Curtis took a step forward and, eyes wide, spun around. He dropped the gun and his hand went to his chest, blood all over them. He looked back at me, as if to say, How? Who? Then two more shots rang out. Curtis dropped to his knees.
Lights flashed on everywhere. Curtis was now face forward. Men in suits ran out of the darkness, enveloping me. On the reservoir perimeter, Friedrich had pulled out his gun and started firing wildly toward the lights. I heard a few short bursts in return and he fell back onto the beer keg and toppled into the water. Agents were streaming everywhere now. How? From where? Willi and Trudi had both pulled out guns, pointing them toward the advancing men. No one fired back at them.
“Put down your guns! United States government agents!” a voice shouted. “Put down your guns and get down on your knees.”
Willi’s eyes widened in panic. In a stumbling gait, he ran along the perimeter to the keg Friedrich had been attempting to empty, trying to finish the job. As soon as he got his hands on it, bullets clanged off the steel keg, forcing Willi to leap away from it. He looked into the lights, mouth agape. Then toward Trudi. They were trapped. The Feds had surrounded them. Out of the darkness, I saw Fiske run up to me. I looked at him, stunned, wobbly-kneed, ecstatic to even be alive.
“How?” I asked. How had they traced me here?
“You didn’t think we’d actually let you go without someone following you?” he said. “It was a bit of a scramble to get here in time,” he grinned, “but I told you we’d be here, right?”
“Right,” I said, grinning in relief at the sight of him too.
The night was alive now, bright with light and radios crackling. Still holding their guns, Trudi pointed hers at any agent who approached, shouting, “Stay away. Stay away, or I’ll fire.”
“On your knees! Put down your guns! Now!” agents were barking.
I could see the Bauers trying to decide which was the better fate, to surrender or not be taken alive. They were surrounded. Escape was hopeless. They didn’t move.
Fiske and I ran up to them on the edge of the reservoir. The agent shouted, “Willi and Trudi Bauer, I am Agent Harlan Fiske. You are under arrest for espionage, attempted sabotage, kidnapping, and plotting against the United States of America. Put down your guns. You can make what happens next either very hard or easy, and the first way to make it easy is to give us the whereabouts of Emma Mossman, who’s of no value to you now. You have my word, we will make every effort that you and whoever is holding her will not be harmed.”
Trudi stared at his face, her jaw agape, at the agent she thought was one of their own spies, and any fear in her eyes hardened into anger. “You…?”
They closed ranks. There was a desperate pallor of fear on both their faces. Around them were the three unopened kegs of sarin. Wil
li kept eyeing them, like children he would never see again.
Fiske called out, “I’m asking you again, Herr and Frau Bauer, for your sakes and for the sake of an innocent girl, put down your guns and let us know where she is.”
I stepped out of the bright lights myself. “Willi, Trudi, please…”
Willi spun in my direction, leveling his gun at me. I could feel the government agents about to drop him where he stood.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” I screamed, throwing up my hands. Then I took another step to Willi and said, “It’s over now, Willi. It’s over. Where is she? Please…”
He and Trudi stood there for a moment, frozen, realizing that their grand plans of history had turned to dust, pointing their guns haphazardly into the headlights at the encroaching circle of agents. Finally Willi met my eyes.
“Willi, please…,” I begged. “I know you care for her. You both do. There’s no point now in putting her at risk. Please, tell me where she is so I can bring her home. I’m begging you.”
For a moment, he seemed to waver. I could see softening in his eyes. “Trudi, we should—”
“Willi, don’t say another word,” Trudi snapped at him in German. “He betrayed us, Willi. Both these men did. Let our people do what they have to do.”
“Trudi, please…,” Willi said, turning to her. “There’s no point anymore. We’re—”
“There is always a point, Willi. You mustn’t waver. You must stay strong. They must know the will of the German Republic will not bend. Even in defeat. Whatever happens, we will be pawns of the U.S. government and then be returned one day. As heroes, Willi. It is not over.”
“Trudi!” I took another step closer. “It is. It is over.” Trudi swung and pointed her gun at me. “Please…”
Something seemed to crack in Willi’s countenance—a tremor of regret maybe, or simply the recognition that this was no longer an act of war, just contempt now, breaking through the resolve. “Trudi, dear, he’s right. It is over.” He turned to her and lowered his gun. “It is.”
“Es ist nicht vorbei,” she snapped back sharply. “It will never be over.”
I took another step, only a few feet from them now; Fiske put up his hands to halt his men from firing. Willi swallowed and shook his head. Trudi kept her gun pointed at me, her hand quivering. Still, I never felt more sure of anything in my life.
“Willi…,” I begged him again. Tears in my eyes now. “It’s Emma, damn it. Shoot me if you must. Do whatever you want to me. Just first, tell me where she is. For God’s sake, Willi, it’s not about the war anymore. It’s my little girl.”
I could see him shaking a little, and nodding, the reality of their fate sinking in. He glanced one last time at his precious kegs, all useless now. “Trudi, he’s right, my darling,” he said. “There is no point now.”
“Willi.” Trudi cut him off. “Do not forget who we are. We are soldiers of the Reich, not cowards. He betrayed us. He turned us in.” Her eyes came afire at me and she tightened the grip on her gun. “Let the little girl rot in hell, for all I care. Shoot him! Do your job.”
For a moment, Willi raised his gun to the height of his waist, and Fiske yelled out, “Bauer, don’t!”
Then Willi stopped. Swallowing, he seemed to find some certainty in his mind and dropped his gun. His eyes were not filled with anger any longer, but what seemed close to sorrow. He shook his head and put his hand out on Trudi’s extended arm. “Mr. Mossman, you will find her at—”
“Nein, my darling—” Trudi cut him off. She raised her gun to his head and pulled the trigger. “Nein.”
Willi crumpled to the ground. His Alpine cap fell to the side, a pool of blood collecting around it. His kind, gray eyes staring glassy and lifeless back up at her.
“No! No!” I screamed out in horror, and sprinted toward him. “No!”
“I am with you, my love,” Trudi said next. “Heil Hitler!” She put the barrel of her gun underneath her chin and pulled the trigger again. The blast blew her hat off the top of her head and she spun to the side and crumpled atop her husband.
“No!” I ran up and looked at them lying there. I yanked Trudi’s body off of Willi and looked closely into his fixed, still eyes. “Where is she?” I screamed at him, on the verge of tears. I picked him up and shook him by the shoulders. “Where is she? Willi! Willi!”
Fiske came up behind me, kneeled, and pulled me away. “He’s dead, Charlie.”
He couldn’t be dead. Emma, I was thinking, Emma. How would I find her? He was about to tell me where she was. “You said you would find her for me, Fiske,” I said, worry metastasizing in me into rage. “You owe me that. You said we would find her, goddammit.”
All around, Fiske’s men spread across the scene, checking the bodies for life, surrounding the kegs of poison that were now the property of the United States government.
“They called her earlier,” I said to Fiske in desperation. “From the brewery. I spoke with Emma. Were you able to trace it?”
“Not entirely.” He shook his head. “The call was way too short. The only thing we were able to determine is it was placed to somewhere in New Jersey.”
“New Jersey…,” I said, racking my brain. It didn’t ring a bell for me. On anything. I shook my head in futility.
“You said Emma was being held by your housekeeper. Is there a chance she’s from New Jersey?”
The only thing I recalled was Mrs. Shearer once saying she had to make her bus. “No, somewhere in the Bronx, I think. Not Jersey.” That didn’t help at all.
“We’ve got about an hour, maybe two, Fiske, until they suspect they won’t be calling in.”
“We could have someone at the other end of that call,” he said. “At the brewery. But … Go back to anything Willi or Trudi might have divulged from the time they told you they had her. You said you spoke with Emma. Did you hear anything? Anything that might give you a clue? Background noise. Someone talking to her. Anything that could be helpful…”
I went back through my earlier conversation. Daddy, I want to go home … I want to see Mommy. I’d heard a voice, I thought. Behind her. A woman’s voice. I assumed Mrs. Shearer. But nothing. Nothing that might mean something. Nothing that might possibly be a clue.
All around me, government radios were crackling, agents were swarming over the scene.
I looked at Willi lying there with a hole in the side of his head. You bastard. You never gave me anything. Anything I could use.
She’s fine, I thought of him saying again. Smiling at me at the apartment, trying to put me at ease. Just look at it as if she was spending a day at camp.
Silently, I went over those words again, something forming in my brain.
At camp.
“You said the call was to New Jersey, right?” I looked at Fiske expectantly, hope rising in me. “You’re sure?”
He nodded. “Northern New Jersey. That much we’re quite sure of. We just couldn’t pinpoint it further. You weren’t on long enough.”
“Northern New Jersey…” I grabbed Fiske by the arm, exhilaration rippling through me. “You can take me, can’t you? Now. With some men.”
“I can organize a police unit at a moment’s notice,” he said. “But where?”
“Jersey. You said it yourself,” I said, locking on his eyes. I looked at my watch. 3:21 A.M. We still had time. “I think I know where she is!”
43
We drove, siren blaring, speeding over dark local roads, back down Route 9 to the George Washington Bridge. Another car with four of Fiske’s men kept up right behind us.
On the way I told Fiske, “The German American Bund has a camp in northern New Jersey, right? I’ve seen it in the news.”
“Camp Nordland,” he acknowledged. “I’m familiar with it. I was a part of the team that shut it down a few months ago. Why do you think she’s there?”
“Because Willi Bauer told me just to think of it as if Emma was at a day at camp. At camp, Fiske. You said the call came
from northern New Jersey. It has to be. It’s the best chance we have.”
We crossed over the George Washington Bridge to New Jersey, then onto State Road 15, heading north.
4:10 now.
Fiske radioed ahead and arranged for a team of local police to meet us and guide us in.
Willi and Trudi would have planned to return to the brewery by now after the completion of their mission. Whoever was holding Emma—Mrs. Shearer, I assumed—would be awaiting their call. Or possibly would have called in themselves by now.
“This housekeeper,” Fiske said, looking over to me, “she’s obviously one of them. But if she’s taken care of your daughter she has to have developed feelings for her after all this time.”
“She’s got the disposition of an iceberg,” I said. “If she’s even who’s in charge. I wouldn’t count on what you say mattering an iota.”
After fifteen minutes we cut over onto State Road 517. At that hour, we pretty much had the road to ourselves, our headlights knifing through the darkness. There were virtually no other cars anywhere.
4:20 A.M.
We turned onto Newton-Sparta Road, people on the other end of the radio giving us instructions. “We’re close.” Fiske looked over to me. “When we get there I want my team to lead the way. You understand?”
“I understand,” I said. I had no idea how many of the German American Bund would even be there. Or if Emma was even being held there. It was just a hunch. But everything racing in my heart told me that she was.
In about five more minutes we drove through a highly wooded area and came upon a sign and a dirt road. Two police cars were parked on the side, lights off, awaiting us. Fiske pulled to a stop and got out to confer with the local cops.
