New York Station

by Lawrence Dudley

  -47-

  Ludwig tapped his papers on a small stand. All eyes were immediately on him.

  “Good morning. Germany and I thank you for coming. You are busy men. It’s very hot. Let me get to the point. It’s clear Britain can’t last until winter. Her people, who are reasonable and farsighted, will soon come to their senses and realize they cannot fight a united Europe commanded from Berlin. They will demand peace.

  “Therefore, it is appropriate to begin thinking of the postwar economic order. Our leadership is willing to be very generous to those companies that accept the New European Order.”

  Hawkins noticed the girl’s reflection in a gilt rococo mirror. He began idly watching her while Ludwig spoke. The way her hair hung over that eye—

  “What does this New Order offer that other systems, including the US, do not? Two things. Labor peace and lower tax costs.”

  This talk’s going to be totally different from the Waldorf, Hawkins thought. No politics. Totally bottom line. Those blue eyes—

  “First let us consider labor. I am sure there isn’t a firm here that hasn’t undergone at least one painful and expensive strike in the past. In Europe today, under the Nazi Party, this problem no longer exists. Unions are under state control. Strikers lose their heads.”

  Oh, that’s funny, Hawkins thought. I wonder if any of these idiots realize Ludwig means that literally. When Hitler revised the German criminal code he’d decided Aryans should be beheaded. By the sword. Thought that was appropriate for a “warrior race.” Thinking like school boys, the Nazis were. Only the sword proved rather, well, messy. Aryans now went to the guillotine. Over a big drain. In the middle of a tile floor. Üntermenschen were hanged.

  “Wages are fixed by the state. By setting markets we guarantee your annual profits.”

  She’s still there in the mirror, Hawkins thought. Is she going to nod in approval? Instead an uneasy expression crossed her face and passed into a distant frown. She spun on her heel and walked out.

  Frank, the anxiety-ridden one, stood up. “There’s something here I don’t understand. You keep talking about labor as if it were our enemy. It’s not that simple. Sure we’re adversaries but our employees are also our customers. If you keep wages low, who’s going to buy our products?”

  Nick bounded up. “You moron! The Wehrmacht, that’s who.”

  “Sir!” Ludwig said. “Please, that’s not true.”

  “The hell it isn’t. I’m not listening to any more of this crap. You’re looting all of Europe! Offering us the scraps won’t make it right. You’re nothing but hoodlums with a party and a slick patter.”

  “Gentlemen, please—my apologies—obviously we have a provocateur—”

  Dieter was already slipping around from behind Ludwig. He jumped forward and slapped one hand on Nick’s sleeve. “You will leave now!”

  Nick snapped his arm away. “Get yer hands off!”

  Dieter grabbed his elbow and pulled. “You are going!” They both gripped each other’s coat sleeves and began pushing. Dieter spun the smaller man around in a circle. He drove him toward the door. Several of the wooden folding chairs went flying.

  Oh, this is rich, Hawkins thought, like a nightclub floor show. Go to it, boys. A few of the others began lining up, ready to pick sides. Even better—a riot. The two men’s wrestling knocked several more chairs flying. Dieter started trying to reach up into his coat. No doubt for a gun, Hawkins thought. But Dieter couldn’t quite free his arm from Nick’s grasp.

  A movement in the mirror. Daisy. Hawkins turned. She was now standing in the doorway, her mouth opened on the edge of a shriek of fright and horror. Time to do something. Hawkins jumped over the fallen chairs.

  “Okay! Everybody outside! We’re going to settle this fair and square,” pushing the two struggling men through an open pair of glazed double doors and out onto a brick patio.

  Several other men grabbed the brawlers and pulled them apart, shouting, “That’s right! Fight fair!” as if it were a sporting match or a schoolyard brawl.

  Hawkins pulled Nick away and shoved him, hard. He whispered in his ear, “Gun! Hear me? He’s got a gun! Christ’s sakes back off!”

  Ludwig, horrified, landed on Dieter almost simultaneously, growling at him in German. Nick blanched and dropped back.

  “God! Thanks. Bastards.”

  “I wouldn’t go back in there if I were you.”

  “No,” Nick answered quietly, then in a louder voice, “I’m leaving. Who’s going with me?”

  Perhaps a third of the group followed him off. Hawkins stood on the edge of the patio, watching them stream across the lawn until he heard clicking heels coming behind him.

  -48-

  Daisy was walking out the double doors, her face as white as her clenched knuckles. The coquettish manner had vanished.

  “Mr. Hawkins, I want to thank you for breaking up that fight.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He put his hand out to shake. Instead she delicately squeezed the side of his hand with her fingers, holding it for a moment while she spoke, like a swimmer holding onto a dock.

  “I had a vision of a riot wrecking the whole house.”

  “Indeed. It’d be tough getting bloodstains out of those old carpets.”

  “Blood? Excuse me?”

  “Um … yes. Didn’t you see it?”

  “See what?”

  “Ludwig’s man. Carrying a gun. ’Bout to shoot that fellow. Probably would’ve if he’d gotten loose.”

  “A gun? In my house? Where?”

  “Shoulder holster.”

  “I owe you more than I imagined.”

  “Quite all right.”

  She steadied and let go, her face reddening.

  “Those brutes! The nerve! I never had any idea anything like this could happen.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, you ought to be a little pickier about who you let in your home.”

  “No, you’re quite right.”

  “You said there were going to be more meetings?”

  “Yes.” Her face screwed up into a grimace. “They’ve got a lease for two more. Damn!”

  “They pay up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give ’em the boot.”

  “But I’d have to refund the money.” A little tic. “Not that that’s any concern, of course.”

  “Don’t. Kick him out. Claim this fracas was a breach of contract.”

  “He’ll sue.”

  “No he won’t. He won’t do anything to draw the wrong kind of attention to himself. Or any bad publicity. He’ll go quietly. Trust me.”

  She started to smile again, an amused, impish grin. “I think you’re right. Sticking around?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Hawkins crept in and sat in the back. Dieter had rearranged the scattered folding chairs in neat rows. Ludwig continued as if nothing had happened. He began handing out references to officials at specific ministries in charge of business and economic affairs in Berlin, Copenhagen, Paris and so on. At the end he also collected the names and addresses of the executives who stayed. Hawkins got on the end of the receiving line. When his turn finally came he piously shook Ludwig’s hand.

  “That disturbance—that’s really embarrassing, Doctor.”

  “Oh, no, not at all. I should be thanking you.” His eyes flicked over at Dieter, then whispered. “You really saved things.”

  “Aw—only doing what I could.”

  “I hope my associates in Berlin and I will be hearing from you.”

  “I’m sure Berlin will be hearing a great deal from us very soon.”

  Hawkins saw Daisy waiting. He broke off with a final greeting and slipped to a vantage point right outside the patio doors. Will she do it? he thought. Does she have the moxie? Going to be interesting …

  Daisy stamped up to Ludwig. “Dr. Ludwig—”

  “Miss Schenck, please let me apologize for the commotion. I assure—”

  “That won’t do.
I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

  “I promise. There will be no more trouble. I understand why you are upset.”

  “Oh, you do, do you?” She pointed at Dieter. “Does that man have a gun?”

  Ludwig’s face froze. “That is none of your concern.”

  “Oh, he does then! How dare you bring a gun into my home! You pick up your folding chairs, your coffee Thermador, your strudel and … and clear out of here!”

  “Then I expect our payment back!”

  “The hell I will! That fight was a breach of contract—much less a gun. You’re not getting a dime.”

  They both stood nose to nose for about thirty seconds, tense and shaking. Then Ludwig snapped his head at Dieter. “Wir gehen!”

  Brilliant, Hawkins thought. Oh, she sure does have what it takes.

  Daisy silently spun around and stamped back out into the hallway. Hawkins hopped off the patio, took a deep gasp of air. A half-suppressed laugh finally burst out. He slipped around the lawn to the front. Daisy saw him, opened the door and silently motioned him in. He carefully stood out of Ludwig’s and Dieter’s view. They were loudly and ostentatiously folding and stacking the little chairs.

  Hawkins pointed at the old engraving of the captain on the wall. “I can see why the Spaniards were afraid of this old chap.”

  Daisy folded her arms, plopped back against the cannon and took a deep breath. “Thanks.” She broke into a grin. “It worked.”

  “I’m glad. How much more do you know about those two?”

  “A little.”

  “Could you tell me later?”

  “Sure. How about tomorrow morning at the flat track, say about seven. I like to watch the workouts.”

  “The flat track?”

  “Oh. The racecourse. That’s what horse people call it. There’s only one flat track in the horse world.”

  “Ah. Tomorrow, then.”

  -49-

  Hawkins carefully spread two washcloths inside the sink basin and poured in the ice. Three bottles of orange soda fit nicely. Gave them a jostle. Not a clink. There, almost ready, he thought.

  This kind of time-consuming operation always took deliberation and care even if the details seemed mundane. But when you were proposing to surveil a potential enemy for hours, maybe longer, comfort mattered.

  Almost ready, he thought. Off with the shirt and tie. Put the old armchair next to the side door. Check Ludwig’s room for sound. Nothing yet. Another bite from one of the sandwiches. A bang next door.

  Hawkins gently pressed the cup of his stethoscope against the door and fitted the tubes in his ears. Their words penetrated the wood like paper.

  A creaking sound. Ludwig’s footsteps pacing up and down as he spoke in German.

  “The business meetings are ruined! This is a small resort. Everyone in town will hear about the fight by nightfall! It’s a damned lucky thing that valve executive stopped it in time.”

  Me … he’s talking about me, Hawkins thought. A guffaw almost burst out.

  “And don’t forget I’ve been given the power to immediately send you back home if I have cause, and I do! I don’t have to explain what that’d mean.”

  “Yessir.”

  Dieter’s probably standing at attention in the center of the gaudy but seedy room. No doubt sweating away, Hawkins thought.

  “Where did you get that gun?”

  “It’s standard issue. I thought you knew.”

  “No. Keep it out of sight.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Let me review. You’ll never take direct action again without my permission. You’ll act in a manner consistent with our covers unless directed otherwise.”

  “Yessir.”

  “And what is that?”

  “You represent the Reich Ministry of Foreign Trade—” There was a pause.

  “And?”

  “I am your chauffeur.”

  “Exactly.”

  Ludwig’s tone softly shifted. “I realize this is a great disappointment for you. I’m sorry. Truly. But the war will be over soon. You’ll get your medal and a handshake from the führer, too.”

  Hawkins thought he almost heard a sob.

  “The führer … if it wasn’t for him I would’ve gone to the Olympics last winter. I would be the first combined biathlon and downhill ski champion by now. I could’ve gone to Hollywood. I could’ve been the next Sonja Henie, I could’ve done for skiing what she did for skating. Now here I am spying.”

  “The war won’t last long. You’ll get another chance. No one will ever know.”

  “There won’t be a next time. Not for me. It’ll be too late. A younger man will take my place.” Dieter sounded inconsolable. “He’ll be in school all this time, training. I’ll never catch up.”

  Ludwig hesitated, gently searching for the right words. “You’re … not alone. Many men are making sacrifices because of the war. The Fatherland needs you. Only you have the right skills for the job. Remember, being a chauffeur isn’t your real status in life, any more than an actor in a movie ceases to be an actor. He’s still a star, and you are, too.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. That’s a real champion. We’ll keep this to ourselves.”

  “Oh! Thank you, sir! It won’t happen again.”

  “That’s the spirit. Remember, your superiors as well as mine are extremely enthusiastic about this mission. That’s why you’re here. Come back down in a few minutes. We’ll order dinner in. We don’t want to attract any more attention.”

  Dieter carefully shut the door behind him. Hawkins hovered at the connecting door a moment after Dieter left, listening for anything, straining at the earpieces. Then Ludwig shouted in German, “God dammit! God dammit all to hell!” kicking something in the room. “Idiots! Imbeciles!”

  Hawkins reflexively leapt back from the door, ears ringing from the bang in the stethoscope. The door—damn! He’s trying to kick it down. Must’ve heard me. How? No, impossible. He waited a minute. Nothing. No, he’s not knocking the door down. It’s only the earpieces magnifying everything.

  Hawkins gingerly stepped back and placed the stethoscope on the door. All clear. Ludwig had taken his anger out on the furniture, that was all. He listened to the rhythmic creaking and pounding as Ludwig furiously paced up and down the old floors like a zoo animal. The doctor snapped on the radio and sat down.

  Hawkins returned to his sodas and sandwiches, mentally sorting and thinking.

  That phrase—“your superiors as well as mine …” A joint operation, of some sort. In that case, who’s Dieter with? Most likely the military. Probably had to join the army to get on the team. War starts, next thing he knows he’s here.

  An Olympian. No wonder he looks so powerful, Hawkins thought. And no wonder he’s so resentful. He knows the truth. He’ll never have another chance. Sad.

  Totally misread his anger, Hawkins thought. Yes, probably was a Hitlerjugend. Weren’t they all, now? But not the typical brown-shirted bullyboy. He’s angry. Wanted to come to America. Be a star. Sonja Henie? Key W in on that, with his motion picture industry connections. From Olympian to chauffeur, what a comedown. That’s got to be gagging—perhaps he’s ripe for being turned?

  -50-

  The grandstand’s high slate roofs, peaks and gables hovered like a mirage, floating above a morning fog. As Hawkins walked, flowing awnings, red and white flowers and ancient trees slowly emerged from the mist, then white clapboard walls.

  No Daisy, yet. He settled at a table under a soaring wooden roof with beams aged dark brown like an ancient country church in Sussex or Kent. The sun slowly peeked above the treetops. Early golden rays chased away little rolling wisps, catching and flashing the dew on the rich emerald lawns. An intense blue sky followed.

  Hawkins almost reclined, cradling his tea. The horses whipped along the track, gliding between each bound. Hoofs hit the dirt with distant thuds, sending clods of dirt flying. When the grooms stood and pulled on their mounts steam rose from
the horses’ glistening flanks, mixing with the mist.

  So beautiful, Hawkins thought. So serene. The war feels so far away. Got to go, get back in. I know. That hasn’t changed. But still … here now.

  Daisy was coming. She was wearing a black silk dress and hat tilted at a rakish angle with a net veil that hung halfway down her face. Long hair covered one eye, as usual. She pulled off one long glove as she walked, extending a perfectly manicured hand straight in front of her. Her hair caught the low rays of the sun with a golden flash. Red lips parted. He forgot about the morning. And the war.

  “Hawkins, dear, hello. Am I late?” It was seven-thirty. “I’m sorry. You know we girls take so much more time than you boys do.”

  He took her hand and guided her to a seat. “Nonsense. I’ve been watching the dawn. It’s a gorgeous morning.”

  She glanced up. “Yes, it is. Generally though, I prefer sunsets. What did Damon Runyon call it, the ‘tubercular light of dawn’?”

  “I think so. Sunsets are deeper. But mornings are clearer.”

  “You’re in a poetic mood this morning.” He smiled and shrugged. “Did you order?”

  “Just tea.” He motioned for the waiter, inattentively ordering a plate of pancakes. Daisy promptly ordered steak and eggs, coffee and the melon and berries without checking the menu.

  She reached up, pulled out a long hat pin and lifted off her elegant chapeau, perching it on the seat next to her. Then she tipped her head forward. She shook her head so her loose hair partially fell down, veiling her face again. Then she swept it up and back with one swift motion. She rested her chin on her fingers. He noticed circles under her eyes.

  “You look tired.”

  “I am, a little.”

  “Did I get you out of bed early?”

  “Oh no, it’s the usual summer swirl. Too many parties. It’s tiring. Hard to keep up with them all.”

  “That’s a problem?”

  “I get invitations for two or three every night. It’s impossible to know which one to go to without giving offense. Everyone’s exhausted all the time.”