The Copper Series

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  Just then, one of the sacks moved.

  I froze.

  A little sandy haired boy popped his head out of the sack and grinned sheepishly at me. William! I almost said his name but quickly caught myself. I showed my bound hands to him, and he scrambled out of the sack to help me untie the ropes. As soon as my hands were freed, I worked on my feet. After a quick hug, I pulled away to look at him carefully. “How did you find me?”

  “See Bad Man. See you. Go find Girl.”

  William must have seen Herr Mueller put me in the back of his truck and somehow climbed in, unnoticed.

  I still had to reduce what I wanted to tell William to the bare essentials. I tried not to show it, but I was terribly worried to see him. I knew Robert would be frantic. I needed to warn William.

  “Hide from Bad Man. Stay in truck,” I said to him. What I wanted to tell him was: “William, I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t want Herr Mueller to see you. He may try to hurt you. Stay in the truck as long as you can and try to find me. We’re going to escape when we get a chance.” I wasn’t sure how long I could keep William safe, but seeing him only resolved my determination: I was not going to let Herr Mueller win this battle.

  Herr Mueller careened off the bumpy main road and on to a single lane dirt road. Another worry. How could Robert find us if we were heading into a remote area?

  Think fast, Louisa.

  I looked at the sacks and grabbed one. If I could leave a paper trail, perhaps it might alert someone to Herr Mueller’s hideaway. I tried to get only identifying papers, not cash or coins. I leaned out of the truck and dropped the papers low toward the road, so they wouldn’t fly up and broadcast to Herr Mueller what I was doing. Herr Mueller was speeding so quickly that I had to use one hand to hang on to the truck’s side, leaning over the back.

  In scarcely a few hours’ time, we arrived at what seemed to be an oasis in the midst of a desert. A Mexican guard stopped the truck, apparently not accustomed to seeing Herr Mueller drive a truck. Herr Mueller barked at him, and the guard bowed respectfully and let him drive up the long driveway, lined with palm trees, to a palatial Spanish house.

  I quickly motioned to William to get back in the sack, and I re-tied my hands and feet. Herr Mueller stopped the truck at the top of the hill crowned by a large gurgling fountain in front of the house. Deep fuchsia-colored bougainvillea climbed the walls of the grand house’s stucco exterior.

  Just as I had often wondered in Copper Springs, how did Herr Mueller seem to have an abundance of water available to him in a desert land?

  A Mexican man quickly ran out to open his truck door. Herr Mueller spoke to the man in Spanish, walked to the back of the truck, and opened the hatch door. “Well, look who has woken up. Hello, Fräulein, welcome to my home-away-from-home. Mi casa es su casa.”

  He pulled me to the edge of the truck and untied my feet so that I could walk. He grabbed my arm roughly and walked with me to the front door. I glanced at the truck as the man drove it back down the hill, and begged God to protect William and keep him out of sight.

  An older Mexican woman opened the door just as Herr Mueller and I approached the entryway. She curtsied to him, noticed the ropes around my hands, but avoided my eyes.

  “Maria will take you to the guest room. Fräulein, I trust you will be quite comfortable in my home. Later, there is someone whom you will be most interested in meeting.”

  I wasn’t interested in meeting any of his acquaintances. “Herr Mueller—how long am I going to be here? What are you planning to do with me?”

  He laughed a throaty laugh. “You want to leave so soon? You don’t like my hospitality? Not to worry, Fräulein. You won’t be here long. But first, I have a few loose ends to tie up here.” His eyes narrowed to slits, warning darkly, “and don’t try anything stupid.”

  Herr Mueller turned and walked away from us, down a hallway of terra cotta tiles. Just as I thought about trying to get past Maria to the door, she clapped her hands, and another servant stepped out from behind the wall partition, carrying a fierce looking rifle.

  Maria motioned for me to follow her as the guard followed behind me. She led me down a separate hallway, past many doors, and finally opened a door to a bedroom. The room was beautifully decorated in Spanish décor, including a large bed, nightstand, desk and chair, with a small private bathroom. I had a grudging admiration for Herr Mueller’s taste for fine living until it occurred to me that the townspeople of Copper Springs were, unwittingly, financing his luxurious quarters.

  “¿Està bien?” Maria asked.

  No, Maria, being kept as a prisoner was not good for me, even if the accommodations were luxurious. But I only nodded.

  “Traerè la cena pronto.”

  Pronto? I remembered Rosita calling out to Esmeralda to be “pronto.” I think it meant quick or fast. “¿Cena? ¿Comida?” I asked Maria, hoping she was telling me she would bring food soon. I might have just been kidnapped, but it hadn’t diminished my appetite.

  “Sì, sì. Traerè la cena pronto.” Maria untied the ropes on my hands and backed cautiously out of the room. I heard her lock the door from the outside, give orders to the guard in Spanish, and then shuffle back down the hallway. Then I heard the guard scrape a chair along the tiled floor before sitting down on it.

  I rubbed my sore wrists and went over to the window to look outside. Decorative wrought iron bars prevented the obvious escape. I examined the bars more closely. They were impossible to bend or break, but…a small five-year-old boy just might be able to squeeze through the narrow railings. I looked below the window and saw bushes.

  There was only a three-foot climb from the house’s foundation up to my window. Where could William be? How could I let him know where I was? I kept rubbing my wrists and went into the bathroom to wash off the dried blood from Herr Mueller’s blow to my head.

  In the bathroom mirror, I studied my reflection. The blouse I was wearing nearly shouted right back at me. It was a bright red plaid top that Rosita had given to me recently as a hand-me-down. Rosita was so well endowed that I had ample fabric to spare. I had planned to tailor it but hadn’t had a chance yet. I pulled it up out of my skirt and bit through the bottom edge, tearing a few inches along the entire hem.

  I returned to the window and scanned for the truck where William was hiding. A guard looked over at the house, stared at my window, and lazily started strolling around. I craned my neck as far as I could and saw the very back edge of the truck, parked close to the house. I kept looking at the truck, hoping to see William.

  Once, I could have sworn I saw his head pop out, but then he was gone again. I wondered if he might be safer if he stayed in the truck, but I wasn’t sure how long Herr Mueller planned to keep me here. I tied my homemade flag onto the bars of the window. I prayed the guards wouldn’t notice, but that William, somehow, would.

  Lord, how can a child understand how serious this situation is? And you know William, Lord. You know how audacious he can be around Herr Mueller. Please send angels to protect him.

  I tucked my shirt back in and stayed posted by the window, hoping to catch sight of William before the guards did. I was concentrating so intently that my heart skipped a few beats, so startled was I when Maria unlocked the door to bring a tray of food.

  “¿Todo està bien?” she asked.

  I nodded, not really sure what to think about her. Could she be an ally? How devoted was she to Herr Mueller? She set the tray on the desk and left. At least I couldn’t complain about the food. It looked and smelled delicious. I recognized some of the dishes from Rosita’s cooking. Thankfully, there were generous portions. Before I ate, I wrapped up food into the flour tortillas, trying to save as much food as I could for William. I put the food in a towel and hid it in the bathroom. I wasn’t sure if or when Maria would return for the dishes.

  Too soon, Maria shuffled back down the hallway and unlocked the door. She seemed to be a little less suspicious of me, perhaps assuming, erroneously, tha
t I wasn’t going to try and escape. She left the door open while she came for the tray. I saw the guard sound asleep in his chair, snoring loudly. Just as I was about to slip out the door and past the guard, from the corner of my eye, I saw the top of William’s head jump up and down, like a kangaroo, trying to peek in my window.

  I tried to distract Maria so she wouldn’t notice him. “Maria, are you the cook, too? ¿La cocinera? The dinner was so good! Comida es muy bueno!” I walked over to the open door and leaned against it so that she had to turn away from the window. It worked.

  Maria picked up the tray, shook her head to say “no” and left, locking the door behind her. I heard her kick the guard’s chair, giving him a tongue lashing in Spanish for sleeping on the job.

  William popped his head back up from the bushes under my window. I ran to the window and looked for the guards, signaling to William to crouch down behind the bushes. As soon as the guard turned and walked around the corner of the house, I reached down and pulled William up by the hands, carefully helping him squeeze through the bars. “William! You are so smart! How did you find me?”

  He pulled at my sleeve and pointed to the window, indicating that he saw my flag made from my blouse. I quickly took the flag down and turned back to hug him. Then I jumped up and ran to the bathroom to get the food I had hidden for him. He, too, was famished and gratefully ate.

  As he ate, I looked around the room to see if there was a place I could hide him if someone came to my room. Under the bed seemed to be the most logical spot. I said to William, “Girl comes. Brings food. Hide under bed. Wait.”

  ”Girl?” William asked eagerly. “See Girl?”

  “Yes. Girl comes. Brings food. Hide!” I answered.

  I hardly slept, as exhausted as I was. I kept waking up, convinced I heard footsteps coming down the hall, but it was only the window-rattling snore of the guard posted at my door.

  I worried about Robert and Aunt Martha. I could only imagine the anxiety they must be experiencing. What were they thinking had happened to us? Had Robert found the ring? Did he realize it was a clue? Close to dawn, I fell into a troubled sleep.

  When I woke up, William was nowhere to be found. Panicking, I looked under the bed, in the bathroom, and the closet. The door was still locked. He must have sneaked out through the window while I was asleep. I shouldn’t have been surprised. That boy was fearless. Just then, I heard Maria’s shuffling footsteps, probably bringing breakfast to me. As soon as she came and went, I peered out the windows.

  Not long afterward, I heard Herr Mueller’s footsteps come down the hall. He spoke to the guard and knocked on my door. My heart was pounding. I still had not caught sight of William. Where could he have gone? I was terribly frightened Herr Mueller might spot him.

  “Well, Guten Morgen, Fräulein. How are you enjoying your accommodations?”

  I tried to sound braver than I felt. I didn’t want to let Herr Mueller think he could intimidate me, but my throat felt tight and raw. “Actually, Herr Mueller, I find them to be a bit confining.”

  “Yes. Yes, I see your point.” He glanced at the window’s iron bars. “Normally, I would apologize for keeping you so…shall we say…limited in your surroundings…but I just don’t quite believe you can be trusted. Have patience, Fräulein, it won’t be much longer. Soon we will be on our way back to our homeland!” He smiled broadly.

  So that was the plan. Herr Mueller was going to return me to Germany. First, he tried legal means within the United States, by tipping off the INS. When that plan was thwarted, he decided to deliver me there himself.

  “Herr Mueller, I think I have guessed your strategy. A clever one, too. I think you bought up the copper mines while they were devalued during the Depression. You knew Germany would need the copper for its inevitable war. You take the copper from those mines and ship it all of the way back to Germany. Am I close to the truth?” I asked, trying to flatter him into revealing more.

  He looked pleased. “You underestimate me. I have a far more extensive network than merely shipping copper to Germany.” He pulled out a cigar and puffed on it until the smoke made me cough.

  With a pang, I noticed it was a Wolf cigar from Hamburg. Dietrich’s favorite.

  “Do you know much about copper, Fräulein?”

  I nodded, reminded of Robert’s lengthy discourses on copper production.

  “Let me enlighten you even further. I sell my low grade copper ore, the ore from the open pits, to the United States Government for a very substantial profit. The lower grade ore takes a long time to process, and little good is derived from it. A pity for America, but she is happy to pay me for my ore, and is grateful for any help for their futile war effort.”

  He sat in the desk chair and put his feet up on the bed where I was sitting. I stood up and walked over to the window.

  “The high grade copper ore from my mines is sent across the border to Mexico,” he continued. “Labor is cheap, the high grade copper is easily processed, and the pure copper is shipped to Germany, where I am immensely benefiting der Führer.”

  He jumped to his feet and clapped his hands in delight. “It gets even better, Fräulein. Then, I take the leftover minerals from the high grade copper: sulfur dioxide, slag, and even better, Fräulein”—now he was getting animated—“the impurities from the copper metal are gold, silver, nickel, and platinum, and I sell it a second time at the going market rate to the United States. The beauty of it is that they pay more for those leftovers than they paid for the ore in the first place!” He laughed with delight. “Some call it a ‘double dip.’ Brilliant, yes?”

  Diabolically brilliant. “So those leftover minerals, those would be the copper tailings?”

  “Excellent!” he said with great satisfaction. “I am glad you can appreciate my genius.”

  This man’s inflated ego could fill a copper pit. “It would appear you don’t need me, Herr Mueller. Why not just let me go?”

  “I don’t need you. Not in any capacity,” he sneered, looking me up and down with repugnance on his face. “But my cousin, Heinrich, is very interested in having a little chat with you. Perhaps you’ve heard of my dear cousin? He is a very important man in Germany.”

  The very Heinrich Mueller I had feared when I first met Herr Mueller.

  “Heinrich thinks you might be able to enlighten him about Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s treasonous activities. So, for now, Fräulein, I hope you will relax and enjoy your accommodations, confining though they may be.”

  I thought back to that lunch at Herr Mueller’s house when I first arrived in Copper Springs, naïvely telling him I was convinced Hitler was losing the war. I remembered that picnic in Robert’s office when I openly shared details about Dietrich’s involvements in those plots.

  I was right; so was Dog; there was someone listening to us. Herr Mueller. How naïve could I have been? I never dreamed that sharing information with Robert could have such disastrous consequences. And now William’s life was at risk, too. Even more haunting, it was possible I had made things worse for Dietrich and Hans.

  “One more question, Herr Mueller. Is child labor part of your scheme?”

  He turned back toward me, eyes narrowed. “Insinuating what?”

  “Glenda’s nephew, Tommy. I saw him at your mine. How could you do it? How could you make a ten-year-old boy work in a dangerous mine?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, you don’t miss much, do you?! A boy that age is just the right size to be lowered into our mines and carry out some tasks in the deep crevices that only small hands could do. Explosives in small crevices, for example.”

  A child’s life, dismissed with a shrug. Was there any evil this man wouldn’t commit? Was nothing too low for him? He was utterly devoid of a conscience.

  He sat back down and crossed his legs. “I’ve had great success using children. Only trouble is that little boys grow up. Fortunately, there always seems to be a child here or there who isn’t really looked after. I had thought that
the Reverend’s brat might be a candidate for the job, though, I’m not sure he has enough brains to complete a task. It would’ve been nice for that boy to have something to do other than to torment people.”

  He slapped his hands on his knees and stood up to leave. “Too bad, Fräulein, that we did not meet under other circumstances. I must say that you are not the naïf I had expected you to be.” And he started chuckling to himself all over again. After he left, the aroma of his putrid cigar smoke lingered in the room behind him.

  Rather fitting.

  As soon as I heard Herr Mueller walk down the hall, I ran back to the window. This time, I caught sight of William’s blond head behind the truck the servants were packing. He was letting the air out of each truck tire. I held my breath as I saw a guard walk back toward the truck. O Lord, protect him! Suddenly, the guard spun on his heels and went back toward the house, as if he’d forgotten something.

  William finished the last tire and then peeked around the truck, looking for guards, and ran under my window. I pulled him up and through the bars. “What were you doing?” I asked.

  “Look Girl. No see Girl. See Bad Man.” He shook his head with grave disappointment.

  What was he talking about? Why was he looking for a girl? Who was he looking for? “Who, William, who?”

  “Girl!” he said again, getting frustrated with me. “Look. No see Girl!”

  “What girl?” I said, equally frustrated.

  “Girl!” He responded, exasperated with my obtuseness.

  I put my hands up to cover my face. This line of questioning wasn’t getting us anywhere. I asked him if he saw many men guarding the house.

  He shook his head and held up the number four. Four guards. That was better news than I had expected. I was still determined to find a way to escape, and William’s espionage work was proving to be helpful.

  Just then, I heard a guard shout out. He had just discovered four flat tires on his truck. Soon I heard other guards loudly complain. Herr Mueller came outside and waved his arms up and down in anger. I could only understand a little bit of the Spanish/English/German ranting and ravings, but apparently someone had put soap in the fountain by the magnificent front entry, and bubbles were pouring forth.