Alexander noticed Julian’s hand had ceased shaking. He must feel he was back in control. Better to keep him calm. He didn’t relish getting shot.
“What is her life worth to you?”
“Anything. Everything.”
“The diamonds?”
“Yes, you can have them.”
“And the documents?”
“Those too.”
“I need to know where they are. You will take me to them.”
“What guarantees do I have, if I take you to them, that you will spare Hallelujah?”
Julian smiled. “You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”
Alexander tried to think of a witty comeback, but reconsidered.
There was a knock on the door.
“It’s me—Otto. They have the girl.”
“Come in.”
Two men entered the room with Hallelujah in their grip. When she saw Alexander she tried to run to him, but they restrained her. Her face twisted in pain.
“Don’t hurt her, or you’ll never find the diamonds.”
“Let the girl go,” Julian instructed his men. “That will be all for now, but keep watch outside.”
Hallelujah ran to Alexander, and he kissed the top of her head and folded her in a bear hug. “It’s okay now. You’ll be okay.”
“What is going on? These men came to the house and said they would take me to you, so I went with them, but then they put me in the trunk of their car.”
Alexander tightened his grip on Hallelujah and stared accusingly at Julian. “Is that how you treat a lady?”
“If you cooperate, no harm will come to her. I assure you.”
“What does he mean, cooperate? Who is he, Alexander?”
“This is Hannah’s son by Herr Hoffman. I have something he wants—the diamonds and Hannah’s documents—and if I turn them over, he says he will personally guarantee your safety.”
“And you believe him?”
“No, but I don’t see that we have any choice. I am going to take him to the diamonds.”
Hallelujah looked up at the man with the gun. “But they don’t belong to you.”
“They were my father’s property and now they’re mine.”
“They never belonged to you. Alexander, don’t give them to him. And we need those documents.”
Julian waved the gun. “This is getting tiresome. Herr Stone, we will go together to get the diamonds, and your lady friend will stay here with my security detail until we return. Any trouble, and I’ll use this.”
Alexander put his arm around Hallelujah’s shoulder, took her face in his hands, kissed her lips, and said, “You wait here, and I’ll be back before you know it.” Then he turned to Julian.
“There’s something I need to do first.”
He picked up the ring box from the table, got down on his knees in front of Hallelujah and thrust it in front of Hallelujah.
“Is this—?”
“It’s your engagement ring.” He took the ring and placed it on her finger. “Will you marry me?”
She broke into a wide smile. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you. And I’ll live with you anywhere.” After all, these could be their last words. She didn’t know if she would ever see him again.
“It’s breathtaking. I love it and I love you.”
“And I love you, Hallelujah.” He placed the ring on her finger. “And now, it’s official.”
“Okay, enough sentimentality,” snarled Julian. “It’s time to go.”
Alexander held Hallelujah as if he would never hold her again, and then kissed her softly. “This won’t end here,” he whispered. “I’ll be back before you even miss me. I promise.”
Hallelujah sat down on the chair Alexander had recently vacated and watched him walk out the door. Surely he realized he would be expendable after Julian got the diamonds and the evidence. They both were, and they’d both have to be disposed of.
Polly, I’m waiting for the cavalry, or at least Parker, to save us. Surely someone will come along and ride to the rescue.
When no one answered and nothing happened, Hallelujah sighed. She couldn’t write her way out of this one.
What would Polly do in this situation?
Polly and Parker were as real to her as if they were flesh and blood. They’d been inside her brain for so long they were literally part of her. The actors who played the power couple had been together since the show started. There had been no “the role of Polly Winthrop is now being played by”—substitute name of revolving ingénue. Even when Polly woke up from a coma, her part was still being played by Shelley St. Clair. The role of Parker Sullivan had always been played by Russell Grainger.
Crap, it looks like it’s up to me.
Frick and Frack, Julian’s two kidnapping lackeys, were built like the Berlin Wall before the fall, but they were lacking in the brain department. Otherwise they wouldn’t have left her alone in this dungeon, masquerading as a room. They’d snatched her so quickly that she still had her phone in her jacket pocket, and they hadn’t tried to confiscate it. They’d grabbed her purse and assumed the cell phone, if she had one, would be in there. But they had no idea how connected she was to her cell. It was her lifeline. She hadn’t used it until now because she thought she was being taken to Alexander, and that’s exactly where she’d wanted to be. But now the situation looked grim. Hallelujah pulled out her cell phone and moved closer to the window. Could saving them be that simple?
She prayed her cell phone was charged and that she could get reception in this isolated backroom. But how did you call the police in Germany? 9-1-1? Zero for the operator? And would they speak English on the other end? And how did you say ‘help’ in German? Not to mention she had no idea where she was. Some jewelry store, probably in Dahlem. They hadn’t driven far. Could they track her by her cell phone signal? And what would she say—“I’ve been kidnapped by two Nazis”? That ought to get their attention—if she could get through. Her fingers shook. What if the thugs came back before she could make the call?
And where had Julian taken Alexander? To his bank. But which one? There was a lot she didn’t know about her future husband. A lot she still had to learn.
Think, Hallelujah. Remember the time Polly was kidnapped by South American drug dealers and she had somehow untied herself and stolen their mobile phone to call Parker? What was the number she dialed? Hallelujah had researched it. The worldwide emergency number was 1-1-2. When you dialed 1-1-2, the network was supposed to automatically redirect your call to the local emergency dispatch. Would that number work in Berlin? Was 1-1-2 also the Pan-European emergency number? She couldn’t be sure.
Here goes…
She dialed. What she heard on the other end was a steady stream of German she couldn’t understand. Great, she had dialed the only emergency operator who couldn’t speak English.
“Look, Brunhilda,” Hallelujah said. “This is my life we’re talking about.” Hallelujah searched her brain, but the only German word she could come up with was Auf Wiedersehen, and it was certainly farewell if she couldn’t connect with Hedwig, the one-language-wonder or Gretchen, the No-English-Spoken-Here Fräulein.
It was time to bring in the heavy guns.
“Polly Winthrop is in trouble!” she yelled. The voice on the other end suddenly grew excited, and she heard the operator parroting her words. “Polly Winthrop is in trouble. Polly Winthrop is in trouble.”
She heard anxious voices in the background. Finally, some words she recognized. At least the agitated operator had the presence of mind to put her supervisor on the line.
“Mrs. Winthrop, can I help you? What is your emergency? Is it really you? Where’s Parker?”
Hallelujah rolled her eyes. Action, at last. Apparently, the Winthrop name opened doors around the world and could still work its magic.
“They’ve kidnapped Parker,” Hallelujah sobbed, and then she rapidly explained her plight.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alexander
Three Months Later
AS THE PLANET SPINS SCRIPT EXTRACT
BY HALLELUJAH WEISS
SCENE 7. THE BEDROOM OF THE WINTHROP ESTATE.
PARKER: I’m so proud of you, Pollyanna. You stayed calm in the face of danger. When you were kidnapped, I thought the worst.
POLLY: All I could think of was getting home to you, my darling. I was afraid I was never going to see you again.
PARKER: When the Coast Guard called and said you were safe, I actually broke down and cried. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.
POLLY: Parker, I had faith in our love. We’ve survived a lot over the years. I wasn’t going to let some South American drug lords come between us.
PARKER: We were destined to be together. I’ll ask you again. Will you marry me?
POLLY: Yes, Parker. This time it’s forever.
****
Alexander grabbed a copy of The Berlin Daily Sun from the newsstand and scanned the front page article that began above the fold. Everyone on the street was reading it. The banner headline was in 60-point type, usually reserved for funerals for heads of state, or the outbreak of war. But there it was, a complete exposé on Zersetzung Gruppen KG, with its spidery, Mafia-like ties to national German conglomerates, the government, including the police, and the sordid history of the enterprise. It referenced funds generated by stolen Nazi art and artifacts as the corporation’s genesis during World War II, and the continued complicity of art dealers, auction houses, and museums around the world. There were lists of missing masterpieces, the names of the people they had initially belonged to, and the beginnings of the efforts to trace the original owners or their heirs.
After an intensive investigation, the profiteering officers of Zersetzung Gruppen KG had been hauled off to jail in handcuffs for fraud and graft. Julian Hoffman had tried to hide his face, but there was no mistaking him as the current head of the crime ring.
Hallelujah got more than her fifteen minutes of fame with the story about how the writer of the steamer As the Planet Spins had saved the day with her quick thinking, presence of mind, and a single phone call. Ratings for As the Planet Spins shot through the roof as Hallelujah gave all the credit to Polly. Hallelujah revealed that she had completed a novel mirroring the events in the lives of Hannah and Madeline.
But the real hero of the story was Hannah Hirschfeld Grandcoeur. Movie rights were being optioned for her story, with the working title, “The SS Sturmbannführer’s Wife,” amid much speculation about who would play the part of Hannah/Eva. Germany and the world still had a healthy appetite for anything Nazi-related. There was even a nostalgic, faded photograph in the paper of Franz Hoffman and his young, virginal bride, Eva, on their wedding day.
Hopefully, Hannah was back in Baden, blissfully unaware of the fervor surrounding the story that was breaking in newspapers across the globe, on network television, over the radio, and trending on social media. Alexander and Hallelujah had placed a private call to the facility in Baden, explaining to Hannah the progress they’d made.
And there were close-ups of the four stumble stones in front of Alexander’s Dahlem house, documenting the grim statistics of the Hirschfeld family and the Holocaust. For a time, with the resurrection of collective German guilt, the number of anti-Semitic incidents, so rampant in the previous months, had plummeted.
This story had it all, like a good soap opera plot—love, desperation, betrayal, and finally—restitution. Hannah’s sacrifice had paid off. Justice was served. All’s well with the world. All was certainly well in Alexander and Hallelujah’s world. The newlyweds had a meaningful ceremony at the Neue Synagogue on Oranienburger Strasse with Hallelujah’s father Rabbi Weiss officiating.
Both sets of in-laws got along across the great German-Jewish divide with visions of grandchildren dancing in their heads. Hallelujah had confided that she had always wanted to start a family, but Lloyd was too busy to discuss it. Hallelujah crossed her hands discreetly at her waist and flashed an enigmatic Mona Lisa smile. They had decided her joyous news would stay secret from the world for a few more weeks.
And speaking of Lloyd and Livia, at the height of Hallelujah’s popularity, Lloyd actually had the nerve to call and hint that he’d like Hallelujah back. It seems Olivia dumped Lloyd before their wedding when she caught him cheating on her with another woman. In the immortal words of the rebbetzin, “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer couple.”
Hallelujah finally got her trip to Italy. The couple honeymooned in Florence, and existed on a steady diet of pasta and love. Alexander promised himself to find out who Il Volo was, where in the world they were appearing at their next concert, and reserve tickets.
Which only goes to prove that your soulmate can literally fall out of the sky and that there is someone up there watching over us, orchestrating our happy endings.
Epilogue
Abraham Hammerman
The slender woman spinning across the stage was dark-skinned, with dark hair worn in a chic, chin-length bob and wide blue eyes. Greek or Italian, perhaps? The pull was palpable. It struck him like a punch in the gut and lower parts he thought were no longer working.
The lights were low. It could be an illusion. But it could also be her daughter. No, it would have to be her granddaughter. So many years had passed. The girl looked exactly like Madeline. Madeline had been a dancer. But that wasn’t possible. His aging mind was playing tricks again. He’d often seen or thought he’d seen her riding on the U-Bahn, at an opera, just around the corner, on stage, certainly nightly in his dreams. He often had to remind himself that his Madeline was dead.
He had seen her red wool coat, the beautiful red coat he’d bought to keep her warm for their trip to America, lying in a pile of discarded clothes at the camp, outside the “showers” in the undressing area. He had inspected it. There was the couture label. It was an original. Madeline would never take off that coat, not if she were still alive. He couldn’t save the love of his life. It was his biggest regret. His fingers traced the lining of the coat. The diamonds and American dollars she had sewn into it were still there. In the pocket he found their wedding picture, and he kissed it.
He fingered the red square of fabric in his tuxedo pocket like a talisman. He carried it with him everywhere. He’d even taken it to the ceremony when he married his second wife. When the war was over and he returned to his home, another family was living there. He had no proof that he had ever owned the home. The life he knew with Madeline was gone. He could never get it back.
But the darkness of the auditorium took him back. Back to a dark, smoke-filled room during an even darker time. His friend Julian Hirschfeld had gathered them at a hastily called meeting at his jewelry shop. They had all liquidated their assets—their jewelry, paintings, whatever they had of value, and given him all of their money. No contracts were needed, not between friends. And Julian was a lifelong friend. His wife, Ana, was Madeline’s best friend.
Julian had produced a large velvet pouch and poured out the contents onto a black cloth. Flawless, fat, loose diamonds fell from his fingers like shooting stars in the heavens. Diamonds the likes of which he had never seen before. All beautifully crafted in the famous Hirschfeld style. The men in the room were stunned. They gasped, then held a collective breath. What they were looking at was priceless. What they were looking at would buy freedom for themselves and their families.
They were all given assurances that they would soon be in possession of the proper travel papers. They would leave the following week.
The music rose. The girl dancing on the stage looked so like his dead wife. The twist of her wrist, the curve of her neck, the texture of her hair, Madeline’s hair. Tears pooled in Abraham Hammerman’s eyes. Tears of love. Tears of regret.
“Mr. Hammerman, are you all right?” Alexander was seated next to his former boss and his bride, Hallelujah, was on Abraham’s other side. They looked at each other in anticipation.
“It’s nothing but an old man
’s mind wandering. It’s just that that girl, the ballerina on stage, looks exactly like my dead wife Madeline. You know, my wife was a ballerina. We were so connected. I think I would know if she were no longer in this world, and she is still alive in my heart. I know that is impossible, but—”
The music rose again in a hopeful crescendo.
“Abraham—Mr. Hammerman, absolutely nothing is impossible,” whispered Alexander. “We’ve arranged for a backstage pass after the show. There is someone—actually more than one someone—we want you to meet.”
A word about the author…
Marilyn Baron writes humorous coming-of-middle age women’s fiction, historical romantic thrillers, suspense, and paranormal/fantasy. A public relations consultant in Atlanta, she’s a PAN member of Romance Writers of America (RWA) and Georgia Romance Writers (GRW) and winner of the GRW 2009 Chapter Service Award and writing awards in single title, suspense romance, paranormal/fantasy, and novel with strong romantic elements. She’s also a member of the 2016 Roswell Reads Committee.
She graduated from the University of Florida in Gainesville, Florida, with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism (Public Relations sequence) and a minor in Creative Writing. Born in Miami, Florida, Marilyn lives in Roswell, GA, with her husband, and they have two daughters.
Marilyn Baron’s Contest Wins
The Colonoscopy Club (now the published novel STONES) finaled in the GRW Unpublished Maggie Awards for Excellence in 2005 in the Single Title category.
The Edger won first place in the Suspense Romance category of the 2010 Ignite the Flame Contest, sponsored by the Central Ohio Fiction Writers chapter of RWA.
Sixth Sense won the GRW 2012 Unpublished Maggie Award for Excellence in the Paranormal/Fantasy Romance category.
Significant Others was a finalist in the 2014 GRW Published Maggie Awards for Excellence in the Novel With Strong Romantic Elements category.
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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