3 Ways to Wear Red

by Janet Leigh

  “I’m particularly interested in the necklace your grandmother is wearing,” Caiyan said.

  Marco stepped back. The look of contempt on his face added to my guilty conscience. I assumed he had realized Caiyan was after the key, not the painting. It was my fault Caiyan didn’t have his key. Marco needed to understand I had to help Caiyan get a key.

  Anna looked intrigued. “Why are you interested in necklace?”

  “I collect antique jewelry. I am willing to pay you a very large sum for the necklace.”

  Marco and I looked at each other. Marco smirked.

  “Do you have it?” Caiyan asked.

  “Maybe.” Anna met Caiyan’s eyes as if questioning his credibility. She laid the painting carefully on the table and folded her hands in her lap. “Mein führer was also asking about the key.”

  My mind was spinning. How did Hitler know of the gift? Did he have the gift? Did she just say key?

  Caiyan picked up on the clue as well. The excitement of having a key within his grasp caused his eyes to gleam with a sense of determination. This might be Caiyan’s new key if we could get Anna to give it to us instead of the führer. Did Anna know of the vessel?

  Caiyan’s wheels were turning, and I knew he was working out a plan to get the key and find the vessel. I felt like we were about to search the bakery for any old cupboards that might be large enough to be a vessel. Marco hadn’t said a word since Anna had used the word key. He seemed agitated, as if Caiyan finding the key was interfering with some master plan.

  “The necklace is not worth much, and has been in my family for generations.” She eyed Caiyan’s empty throat, and in that moment, I understood. She knew about the gift. I pulled at my shirt collar and exposed my key. Her eyes grew wide.

  “We have to tell her who we are,” I said, touching Caiyan’s sleeve. “Who knows what path we’ve disrupted by being here? If Hitler gets the key, it could change the entire world.”

  Caiyan nodded. I reached forward and placed my hand on hers. Nothing, not even a tingle. Sometimes the gift was subtle, and my reading skills were still new to me. I shook my head and released her hands.

  Caiyan began speaking to Anna in German. I guess he felt he should make sure Anna understood she might have a mystery gift wound around her genetic code that could allow a person to time travel. Anna was nodding, and I could tell she knew the history by her hand gestures, and she was intrigued to meet a time traveler. I could also tell Caiyan was making his case for her to give him the key. She began wringing her hands. Choosing between her beloved führer and Caiyan was a difficult decision.

  I glanced at Marco and wondered if I would have to make a difficult decision.

  Marco pressed his lips together and shot me an icy glare. I was about to ask what had his tighty-whities in a twist when a commotion began in the outer room.

  Caiyan’s head jerked up, and Anna barked an order at her granddaughter, who ran to the staircase and closed the door behind her. Anna fled to the front room, and we followed.

  Three soldiers entered the small shop and stood at attention. The people in the shop had made themselves scarce, and I could see out the window a small congregation of them huddled together outside the bakery, watching as more soldiers stood guard around a fancy automobile. I watched as Anna took her place behind the counter, and her employees stood behind her. An officer came in and inspected the bakery.

  After the officer had declared it safe, he left, and the soldiers lined up and stood at attention.

  In less than a minute, the officer was back and took his place in the lineup. A man stood in the doorway, and the soldiers gave a click of their heels. There was no formal announcement as I’d envisioned when I’d studied this man. Adolf Hitler was about five foot eight, taller than I had expected. He had the tiny mustache just as he did in all the pictures I had ever seen of him, and he wore his short, dark hair perfectly combed across his forehead. It fell to razor-sharp precision above his left eye.

  Marco and Caiyan both shot up to attention, arms out in the mandatory salute. I wasn’t sure what to do. Did I salute? I watched as Anna greeted the führer with the salute, so I did the same. He walked into the shop and halted when he saw Marco, almost as if he was startled by his presence. He ignored Caiyan and spoke a few words to Anna. Their words were clipped and harsh. I couldn’t figure out if they were arguing or just having a normal conversation. Hitler had no intonation to his voice, so every word sounded like an order. She gestured toward us, and I understood the German word for friends. I held my breath. If we were caught, Anna would also be arrested for helping us. Caiyan and I were going to have a serious discussion about imperiling others when we returned home. If we returned home.

  Hitler barked orders at his soldiers, and they had their guns on Caiyan and Marco. Caiyan cut his eyes at my open throat, and I quickly buttoned up my blouse, hiding my key. If Hitler did have the gift, he wasn’t taking my key.

  Hitler walked around the shop, eyeing us curiously. He started toward the back room, and Anna stopped him. I caught the word present, and I assumed she was explaining his birthday cake was unfinished. He moved her hand and proceeded through the door, returning a few moments later with the painting of Anna’s grandmother. Damn—Caiyan had inadvertently left the picture lying on the table.

  He stood in the center of the room and tapped the painting. I shuddered at the proximity, knowing the evil this man had produced. Slowly, he turned toward Anna and asked her a question. She shook her head as she responded. I could tell from his mannerism he was asking about the key and wasn’t happy about the answer.

  He walked around the room, stopping in front of the counter. The small box of Isla’s chocolate cakes were sitting on the corner of the counter. He helped himself to one and took a big bite of the cake.

  Anna froze as if the führer had made a bad decision. Her eyes grew large, and she was explaining something to the führer. She said the same word the girl had spoken earlier: “Tollatsch.” Anna tried to give him another box of sweets, but the führer would not relent. He insisted on the cake as he continued his pacing around the room. Stopping in front of me as if noticing me for the first time, he reached up to my neck with his chocolate-covered fingers. I grabbed his hand, and his mouth twitched back and forth like a rabbit. Hitler gave more orders, and one of his men grabbed me around the neck, pointing a gun to my head. Caiyan and Marco struggled in my defense, but the soldiers maintained a hold on them.

  He reached again for my shirt. Anna shouted something in German, and the führer smiled. Instead, he picked up my hand and kissed the top of it like he was Prince Charming. A sharp zing shot to my elbow. SuperJen wanted to pull her hand away in disgust, but my inner voice didn’t want to get shot and held firm.

  I felt the tickle of his little mustache and noticed it had slipped slightly away from under his nose. I had never read anything about Hitler’s mustache being fake. He hid the misplaced mustache with a cough. His hand politely covered his mouth and adjusted the slipping facial hair back into position as he stood. He snapped orders to his men, who clicked their heels and said the German form of “aye, aye, Captain.”

  Anna removed her apron as the führer left the shop. The guards waited while she gathered her purse. She said something to the two workers, who were standing huddled in the corner, faces as pale as the moon. They nodded and began cleaning as if the Gestapo would be eating directly off the counter.

  The soldiers released me. Anna turned and shook my hand, sliding something into my palm as she placed her opposite hand on top of the handshake in a mock gesture of friendship.

  “Be safe,” she said under her breath in English, and the soldiers escorted her into the waiting convoy.

  Caiyan, Marco, and I stood in the center of the bakery, not sure what had just happened.

  “You were after a key this entire time?” Marco asked, keeping his voice at a low growl so the workers would not hear.

  Caiyan ignored his question. “I’m going to f
ind the girl.” He went upstairs to find Isla, slamming the small stairwell door behind him.

  “Is that what you want?” Marco asked, looking at me with steely eyes. “He doesn’t give a rat’s ass a woman was just taken hostage because of that damn key.”

  “Now what do we do?” I asked, focusing on the current problem. “If Hitler gets that key, it could change history in a big bad way.”

  “You know, the führer seemed very familiar,” Marco said, stepping farther from the counter as the lingering patrons began making their way back into the bakery for their rations. The show was over, and many of them were speaking in hushed, excited voices about the visit from the führer.

  “Didn’t you study him in world history?” I asked.

  “Yes, but there was something about him that was familiar, like that feeling you get when you’ve met before.”

  “He has the gift. I felt it all the way up to my elbow.”

  “Jen, that’s bad. We might all be Communists when we return, thanks to your boy.”

  Marco was right. Caiyan had gone too far in the search for a key. This was exactly what Jake had warned me about, changing the future and affecting the lives of millions. We had to fix this before we could return. I wished I hadn’t slept through my world history class. I was trying to recall anything I knew about Adolf Hitler.

  “You know, he looked exactly like all the pictures in my history books, except for the fake mustache,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Marco asked

  “His mustache wasn’t even real.” I described the way his little mustache had slipped around during the kiss. “He made this quirky little motion, like a rabbit, and then the thing started to slip off.”

  As I described the mustache, I felt the paper Anna had given me in my hand. I rolled it against my fingers, trying to decide if I should give it to him.

  “Jen, when are you going to read that paper you have in your hand?”

  Busted. Marco didn’t miss much. I shrugged and held up the small piece of paper. It was part of an index. Written in German. I handed it to him.

  He looked at it and rubbed his chin.

  “What does it say?” I asked.

  “It’s a page torn from a ledger. A list of patrons and their allergies, likes, dislikes.” Anna must have kept a list of her customers so she could recommend which items they could eat. Then his eyes widened. “Shit.”

  “What’s it say?” I asked, peering at the paper in Marco’s hand and trying to decipher the German script.

  “Hitler is a vegetarian, and he doesn’t eat raisins, because they give him uncontrollable gas.”

  “So?”

  “So…those cakes we ate were Tollatsch. They are made with pork blood and animal fat.”

  My inner voice turned green and barfed. “And they had raisins,” I added.

  “Damn.” Marco stomped his boot on the floor. “Toches.”

  “What is Toecheese?” I asked.

  Marco’s mouth turned up at the corners in a suppressed smile, but before he could answer, Caiyan came down the stairs with a stunned Isla.

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Marco bobbed his head in Caiyan’s direction.

  My anger had reached its limit. Now a kind German woman was probably standing in line for the firing squad, and Caiyan was playing let’s-find-the-vessel. I marched up to him and practically shouted, “Who is TOECHEESE?”

  The patrons in the shop stopped talking and stared at the blond girl spouting English. Caiyan pulled me into the back room, followed by Marco and Isla.

  “Who is Toecheese?” I repeated, placing my hands on my hips.

  A small smile pulled at the corner of Caiyan’s mouth. It was the side where the scar cut across his upper lip and made me want to kiss him. My inner voice reminded me I was angry with him. He caught the glimpse of affection, and his eyes got all cloudy.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Marco said, looking at me as though my common sense had just caught the last train out of Berlin.

  “Toches is a brigand. But I rather prefer yer pronunciation of his name. We haven’t come across him in years. In fact, I thought he wasn’t traveling,” Caiyan said. “He has an uncanny gift of imitating people. I dinnae recognize him.”

  “He makes that quirky motion with his mouth. Like he just ate a sour pickle,” Marco said. “It’s hard to forget the brigand who killed the former boss of the WTF.”

  “Who was the former boss of the WTF?” I asked.

  “We don’t know if he killed Agent Grant,” Caiyan said to Marco, answering my question at the same time.

  “Agent Grant from the British Secret Service?” I asked, alarmed. “Jake told me he retired after the British government had cutbacks.”

  “That’s what the WTF wanted you to think,” Marco snapped. “They never take the blame when they screw up.”

  “If ye had been traveling at the time, ye might have a say in the matter.” Caiyan’s voice rose, and he moved to stand chest to chest with Marco.

  Marco looked like he might engage his weapon and take out the Scot.

  “That quirky motion—it’s his tell.” I stepped between the two men and interrupted the stare down. “When Toecheese saw Marco, his mouth contorted, and he put his finger to his mustache. It was probably the reason it slipped from his face.”

  “Didn’t Hitler’s men know he wasn’t the real deal?” Marco asked, stepping back and giving everyone some space.

  “Hitler was known for using a doppelganger to do his day-to-day functions,” Caiyan said. “If there was an assassination attempt, it would be futile, and the real Hitler would be safe in some underground bunker.” He placed a hand on my elbow. “He could spend his days plotting his world dominance, while the imposter risked his neck riding in parades and awarding medals to the Hitler Youth.”

  We stood around digesting this information.

  “So there’s a chance the real Hitler doesn’t know about the key or time travel?” I asked.

  “Knowing Toches, I’d bet he’s keeping that information to himself.” Caiyan rubbed his chin.

  “I guess both of you were after the same prize,” Marco said, resting his arms on the strap of his rifle. “And he won.”

  “He doesnae have the vessel,” Caiyan said.

  “Neither do you.” Marco nudged me toward the door. “We need to go. Jen’s in enough trouble.”

  “First we have to help Anna,” I said. Marco stopped midstride, and the men nodded in agreement.

  “Where do we start?” I asked.

  “Hitler’s at the Reich Chancellery. The soldiers would expect Toches to take his hostage there,” Caiyan said.

  “I agree. Hitler didn’t leave his bunker the entire month of April until he…” Marco made a slashing motion across his throat with his finger.

  “We need to ditch our escorts and make our way there.” I glanced over at Isla. She was sitting with her legs drawn up in front of her, and she had her arms wrapped around them. I walked over, sat next to her, and placed an arm around her for comfort. A warm sensation flooded me. I looked up at Caiyan, and his eyes met mine.

  “Scheisse,” he said with that faraway look like all his plans had just gone to shit.

  Chapter 9

  We headed into the main room of the bakery, where a few patrons were whispering. Isla looked worried, and Marco bent down to tell her something in German. She thanked him with a big hug. Caiyan gave her a peck on the cheek and said something in German that made her blush.

  “What did you tell her?” I asked Marco after I told Isla good-bye.

  “I promised her we would find her grandmother and told her to hide in the basement, not the attic, when the Russians invade Berlin.”

  Caiyan nodded as we stepped outside the bakery. A camera flash went off, causing me to see spots. Caiyan stepped up and grabbed the photographer by the shirt collar.

  He was a skinny guy with a press badge on his military jacket and a large box-shaped camera strapped cross-body styl
e, probably following Hitler around hoping to photograph him in action. Little did he know he wasn’t stalking the real deal. He tried to squirm out of Caiyan’s grasp as Marco relieved his camera of the film. They had a few words, and the photographer removed his boots. He gave Caiyan a disgusted scowl and scurried off in his stocking feet. Caiyan picked up the boots and handed them to me.

  “Put these on. Ye cannae go traipsing aroond Berlin in yer broken shoe.”

  I took the boots, removed my shoes and slid them on. They were tall, black leather combat boots and they fit perfectly.

  “Now what?” I asked, noticing one of the soldiers had exited the truck to smoke and was leaning restlessly against it. We had a truck full of priceless antiques, a crooked accountant demanding we take them all to a mine, and a fake Hitler running amok with a stolen key and a grandma hostage. The question was answered in minutes. The air-raid sirens began to sound again. The people outside the bakery ran for cover. Isla and the workers took refuge in the basement of the bakery.

  “Why aren’t they going to the Flaktürme?” I asked.

  “It’s too far,” Marco said. “These planes are close. We need to find Toches.”

  “You want to go out in the middle of an air raid?” I asked, my knees shaking.

  “If we dinnae go, we might not make it oot of here,” Caiyan said. He shouted and motioned to the men in the truck. I assumed it was to take cover, because the men scattered. The three of us jumped in the front seat of the truck, and Caiyan drove like a madman to find Toches and Anna.

  A building in front of us suffered a direct hit, and rubble went flying, hitting the windshield of our truck with the sound of a machine gun. A cloud of smoke rose from the ground, obscuring our brigand. As the dust settled, we made our way slowly toward the Reich Chancellery.

  “There!” Caiyan shouted and pointed at a blurry black blob through the haze. The car carrying Toches was stopped at an intersection, waiting on a flock of fleeing people to get out of the way. The sirens were deafening, and the sound of the second wave of planes was getting closer. The debris and dust began rising from the piles of rubble like an evil smoke snaking its way through war-torn Berlin.