The Gemini Agenda

by Michael McMenamin

  “Bourke, are you listening to me?” Mattie asked.

  Cockran blinked. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

  “Well, what do you think of my idea then?” Mattie asked.

  Cockran grinned sheepishly. “Maybe you should run it past me one more time.”

  “I didn’t think you were listening,” Mattie said. “Kurt is only willing to rescue Ingrid’s brother and sister. I urged him to coordinate his plans with you and Bobby but he refused. Will you talk to him? If you both attempt a rescue, I’m afraid you both might fail.”

  Cockran closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He needed a drink. He walked over to the sideboard and mixed himself a martini. How to put this delicately? I don’t need his help and I have no desire whatever to talk to your old Nazi lover. Probably not a good idea.

  Cockran took a long sip and turned back to Mattie. “You’re right. We may jeopardize our chances if two different efforts are made. But let’s face it. You have a lot more influence over the man than I do.” After all, he thought but did not say, you were the one who slept with him. “Besides,” he added, “Sturm is still a Nazi. He may be able to retrieve Ingrid’s brother and sister but, for all we know, he supports whatever Verschuer is doing there to improve the race.”

  Mattie’s eyes flashed. “That’s not true! He doesn’t support the SS. He may be a Nazi party member but he’s not like them. He’s an honorable man.”

  Cockran didn’t reply. He took another sip. An honorable Nazi was an oxymoron.

  “When the SS held me captive last year at Castle Wewelsburg,” Mattie continued, “Kurt helped you and Bobby rescue me. There were no SS survivors.”

  “That proves my point,” Cockran replied “Sturm was willing to help because it was personal, not because he had anything against the SS. He was in love with you. I accepted his offer to help for the same reason. I’d make an ally of the devil if that’s what it took to keep you safe. And teaming up with a Nazi is just about the same thing. He’s doing what he’s doing to help Ingrid, his current lover, just as he was willing to do the same when you were his lover.”

  “He’s not like that, Bourke,” Mattie said softly. “I can’t explain how I know. I just do.”

  Cockran stayed silent for a long time. A statement like that couldn’t be cross-examined. How did she know? How could she? Had Sturm’s semen supplied her with insight into his soul? But he would not voice that bitter thought. Regardless of the obvious feelings she still had for Sturm, Cockran knew she loved him as much as he loved her. He was not going to jeopardize their future together by angry words he might later regret. He knew now exactly how he was going to secure their future but, for the moment, he needed to address more immediate concerns.

  “Maybe. But if he wouldn’t listen to you, he’s a lot less likely to listen to me.”

  Mattie nodded. “I understand,” she said, her tone of voice resigned. “But it’s going to complicate things and jeopardize the lives of all the twins, not just Ingrid’s brother and sister.”

  “I don’t know if it will do any good but I’ll track down Ingrid and see how she feels. I can’t believe she would knowingly sacrifice the lives of ten other people”

  “You’ll do that?” Mattie asked, her voice suddenly brighter.

  Cockran nodded.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much,” Mattie said as she embraced Cockran. He held her tight. It felt good. By the time he let her go, the motion picture images were no longer playing.

  Yes, he knew what he was going to do to secure their future and he was damn well going to find the right time. And the right place. And soon.

  Early Wednesday evening

  BOURKE Cockran paused in front of the mirror in their hotel suite and adjusted his black bow tie. Behind him, reflected in the mirror, a stark naked Mattie McGary scurried about, holding up clothes in front of her, deciding what to wear for that evening’s dinner party. Cockran loved that about Mattie, her lack of inhibition at appearing naked before him but especially as she was getting ready to go out. It took his breath away how drop-dead gorgeous she was.

  Cockran had met Ingrid in the bar off the Bayerische Hof’s lobby late that afternoon. She had been appalled to learn of the twins who had been killed in America and that the twins they had seen at Passau had also been kidnapped. She promised Cockran she would take care of it with Sturm. Would she be able to persuade him? Cockran hoped so. It was clear to him that Ingrid had fallen in love with Kurt von Sturm. He only hoped the Nazi sonofabitch reciprocated.

  70.

  Fight for Me

  Bayerische Hof

  Munich

  Wednesday, 1 June 1932

  KURT von Sturm walked into the Bayerische Hof lobby with a singular purpose. He was leaving for the clinic at Passau. Tonight. Running into Mattie McGary was troubling on many levels, but his most immediate concern was the presence of a parallel—and possibly suicidal— attempt to raid the Passau facility with the aim of freeing all the twins held captive.

  Sturm knew his plan might be as dangerous and reckless in its own way as Cockran’s. But it was dangerous to him and to him alone. He still had Heinrich Himmler’s gift of which he intended to make use—the silver-trimmed black uniform of an SS Obersturmbannfuhrer. The SS at Passau were well armed but they possessed a weakness common to all hierarchical outfits. Invariably, they would respond to orders from a uniformed authority figure. Him. And, after claiming they had Jewish ancestors, he would walk out with the Johansson twins.

  Sturm stepped off the elevator and hurried down the hall to their room. He had asked Ingrid to stay behind ostensibly to reduce the possibility of another encounter with Bruno. In reality it was because Sturm did not want Ingrid to see him packing an SS uniform into a valise at his apartment. His membership in the National Socialist Workers party was one secret he intended to keep from her as long as possible.

  Sturm knocked twice on the door so that Ingrid knew it was him. He opened the door himself and quickly moved to the closet to put the small suitcase away. Once he closed the closet door, he noticed that he hadn’t heard any of the telltale sounds of her presence.

  “Ingrid?” No answer. “Ingrid?”

  Still no answer. He swept through the suite’s sitting room and past the archway leading to the bedroom, calling her name. The covers remained pulled back from the bed, an open magazine resting on the bedside table as though she’d just been here. But she was nowhere to be found. He checked the tables and writing desk, searching for a note. She had left none. She was gone! Could it have been Bruno? Had he become too careless?

  As his mind raced, he heard the sound of a key inserted into the door to their suite, then the lock being turned. He reached inside his jacket for his Luger. He positioned himself behind the archway between rooms in their suite and leveled his gun on the entrance. The door opened.

  Ingrid appeared in the doorway and uttered a short scream she stifled with her hands.

  Sturm lowered his gun in relief. “Where have you been?”

  Ingrid closed the door, her temper rising. “Don’t you ever point that thing at me!”

  Sturm replaced his Luger in its holster. “Where have you been?”

  “I was in the bar off the hotel lobby.”

  “You left me no word of these plans. Why did you leave the room?”

  “I left to meet my lawyer. Not that it’s any of your business,” she said.

  “Herr Cockran?”

  “Yes,” she said, a look of surprise on her face. “He’s here for the same reason we are. More twins have been kidnapped by people associated with my husband and ten of them have already been killed. He’s asking for our help to save the others.”

  “I know,” Sturm said. He should have known better than to underestimate Mattie. Once she knew she couldn’t persuade him to help, she had given their hotel information to Cockran so that he might be able to succeed with Ingrid where Mattie had failed with him.

  “So you know about the other twins?” Ingrid said
.

  “Yes,” Sturm said. “I ran into his girlfriend, the Hearst reporter, Mattie McGary.”

  “And?”

  “And I said ‘No.’ The safety of your brother and sister are what matter most, and Cockran’s plan would jeopardize their lives”

  “No,” Ingrid said. “It’s just not right to save my brother and sister at the expense of ten other human beings.”

  “But they all can’t be saved.”

  “We don’t know that and never will unless we try.”

  “Never stretch a mission beyond its original scope unless you have the means and the time to adjust,” Sturm admonished her. “We have neither.”

  “Stop thinking like one of your agents, Kurt. Act like a human being!”

  Sturm was stung by this but tried not to show it. “We must be rational about what we can control and what we cannot and limit our efforts to what we can realistically accomplish.”

  “But when have you ever done that yourself?” Ingrid leveled at him.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You put away your dreams of flying airships and for what? To be a hired thug, a paid murderer for men you despise. How is that rational?”

  “Ingrid, one man can do only so much. I must place my support behind imperfect men who can implement the changes that I cannot. Attempting to rescue all of the twins will place your siblings in danger.”

  “That’s a false choice, Kurt and you know it,” Ingrid said. “My brother and sister are already in danger, the same danger as the other twins you refuse to help. I don’t understand how you can think this way. You have more power over the fate of the twins in Passau than you ever will have over the fate of Germany yet you’re refusing to act on that power! What would your father say? Honor. Respect. Strength. Is saving two lives at the expense of ten deaths honorable? You have the power to possibly rescue them all and I want you to use that power. Stop wasting it on men who do not deserve it. Fight for yourself. Fight for your honor. Fight for me.”

  Her last words lingered between them. “Fight for me,” she said, her voice a whisper.

  Sturm did not know what to say. She had turned his own values—his father’s values—against his natural instincts and better judgment. She had not spoken with cold calculation to manipulate him. She meant every word. And he knew she was right. He knew his father would want him to try. It was a matter of honor. To fight for himself. For his father. For his honor. And, yes, for her.

  “You may be right,” Sturm said, relenting. “I will meet with your lawyer, Herr Cockran, and hear him out. But I will make my own judgment on the matter once I have heard precisely what he has in mind. Saving two lives at the expense of ten is better than all twelve dying.” But Sturm suspected that he and Cockran would work something out. He admired and respected the man. They were alike in more ways than loving the same woman.

  Ingrid’s face lit up with a smile and she rushed to him, hugging him tightly. “Oh thank you, Kurt!” she said. “I knew I was right about you. I knew it.” She kissed him deeply.

  Sturm kissed her back until he couldn’t help but laugh at her exuberance. It was the first time she’d been this happy since their encounter with Bruno. He leaned back from her. “Now tell me when and where I am to meet Herr Cockran.”

  “That’s yet to be determined.” Ingrid said. “But we’re both having dinner with Bourke at the Continental along with Miss McGary, the new U.S. military attaché in Berlin, and Winston Churchill. Hitler’s Foreign Press Secretary, Putzi Hanfstaengl, is the guest of honor.”

  Sturm raised his eyebrows. “So this is to be a dinner party of sorts? Am I expected to discuss our military strategy for Verschuer’s clinic with Herr Hanfstaengl as well as your lawyer?”

  “No, silly,” Ingrid said, walking towards the water closet attached to the bedroom. “That’s just the cover for you to meet Bourke and arrange a meeting with him for the next day. I could have made the arrangements myself but I thought you’d prefer to make them directly.”

  “I see,” he said, following her to the door of the bathroom where she began to unwrap several packages of hair dye clearly designed to return her hair color to its original blonde. “Is that wise?”

  “The hair dye? Now that your protégé Bruno has seen me as a brunette, I see no reason to continue that disguise. I’m not afraid of him. Not when I have you to look out for me. Besides I want to look my best when I meet Mr. Churchill and Herr Hanfstaengl and I’m at my best as a blonde.”

  “All that for an out-of-office English politician and a German who speaks for Hitler to the foreign press?”

  “Perhaps not only for them,” she said, her voice carrying from the bathroom. He heard the rush of the shower and Ingrid now had to shout over the sound. “If it all works out as Mr. Churchill hopes, your hero, Herr Hitler, may well be joining us later in the evening. That’s the real purpose of the dinner. Churchill wants to meet Hitler.”

  71.

  My Weakness for a Pretty Face

  Hotel Continental

  Munich

  Wednesday, 1 June 1932

  MATTIE’S first thought when she and Cockran arrived at Churchill’s table was that she might well die of embarrassment. Ingrid, stunning in a strapless blue silk gown, took a seat directly across from her at the round table set for eight. Winston and Randolph took their seats on either side of Mattie while Hudson was seated to Ingrid’s left. Sturm sat between Winston and Ingrid, directly across from Cockran. Looking up, she saw the tall, lantern-jawed dark-haired figure of Hitler’s foreign press secretary, Putzi Hanfstaengl, approaching the table. Introductions were made and Putzi took his seat.

  Mattie shook her head, inwardly ashamed. What were the odds? Except for her godfather Winston and his handsome twenty-one year old son Randolph, she had been to bed with all four of the other men at the table and, given the attention Randolph was paying her breasts as he downed his third martini of the evening, he was eager to be number five. Mattie took a sip of her own martini. If you only knew, kid, if you only knew. She sighed silently. Three former lovers and her current lover all at the same table. She didn’t think she could look Cockran in the eye right now. On the one hand, it was all so very civilized. On the other, there was a lot to be said for monogamy.

  The guest of honor, Hanfstaengl, was the only source Mattie had ever taken to bed. Once. It was a rookie mistake she never made again but the story had been sensational. Literally a front-row seat at Hitler’s so-called Beer Hall putsch in 1923. It had made Mattie’s reputation and led directly to her current position with Hearst. She owed her career to that story.

  Dinner turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. Everyone, even Cockran and Hudson, were on their best behavior. It was indeed all so very civilized, made more so by the fact that not much conversation was required at a table with Winston Churchill who rarely permitted more than a sentence or two from someone else to interrupt his monologue of the moment.

  “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Ingrid said, rising from her chair after the waiters had cleared the table. “I’ll be right back.” Instantly, all six men rose from their chairs.

  Mattie stayed seated but Ingrid imperceptibly but definitely motioned with her eyes for Mattie to join her. She rose before the men resumed their seats. “Excuse me also, please.”

  Once in the ladies’ room, Ingrid checked the stalls to see that they were alone. “I didn’t have a chance to tell Bourke before dinner, and I obviously couldn’t say anything at the table so I thought this would be the best opportunity. Tell Bourke that I’ve talked with Kurt and he has agreed that we must make an effort to save all the American twins at the Clinic.”

  Mattie didn’t reply but inwardly was elated. Cockran now had a fighting chance.

  “Until Bourke told me, I didn’t realize that you and Kurt knew each other or that he had refused to help you. Please don’t hold it against him. He was just trying to keep his word to me.”

  Mattie nodded, silently relieved that Kur
t had kept their affair secret. “I understand. So what’s the plan?”

  “Kurt hasn’t said. I told him about the tunnel your friend in military intelligence found and he said he would arrange with Bourke to meet tomorrow morning to discuss logistics.”

  “Has Kurt said anything about how he intends to work with Bourke?”

  “No. He told me not to worry. But I’ll learn the details whether he tells me or not.”

  “Really?” Mattie asked. “How do you propose to do that?”

  Ingrid smiled. “I intend to be beside him every step of the way,” she said. “I’ve always been a big fan of your articles, Miss McGary, and you strike me as the kind of girl who feels the same way I do. It’s my brother and sister after all. I’m not going to let the men take all the risk and leave me behind to worry.”

  Mattie had known she was going to like this woman. “Please, call me Mattie,” she replied with a smile. “You’re right. We definitely are not going to let the men take all the risk and we certainly are not going to let them leave us behind.”

  MATTIE returned to the table and immediately noticed that Hanfstaengl was nervously glancing at his watch. It was quarter past 10 p.m. and Mattie realized she and Ingrid had been in the loo longer than she thought. Hitler was to have joined them at 10 p.m. He was late.

  If Churchill noticed, he didn’t let on. Rather, he kept badgering Putzi about the Nazis and anti-Semitism. Putzi was embarrassed and with good reason. Mattie knew Putzi was a snob and an anti-Semite but not like the Nazis. His social anti-Semitism was no different than what you found in any American country club or most men’s clubs in London. Churchill, by contrast had long been an ardent Zionist. Even some of his friends said he was too fond of the Jews.

  “Tell your boss from me that anti-Semitism may be a good starter, but it is a bad sticker,” Churchill said, concluding his monologue. Churchill relit his cigar, took a sip of champagne and directed his attention toward Ted Hudson. “So, Major, when do you take up your new post as U.S. military attaché in Berlin? I’m half American, you know.”