by Cat Gardiner
Will found that he loved teasing her and looked over to her, wiggling his eyebrows, trying to elicit just the response he hoped for. He tried not to laugh at how the smile diminished from her lips in momentary jealousy, until she playfully slapped his shoulder.
“You’re a terrible tease! So, what you’re saying is I’m the first girl you’ve seen since coming home, then?”
“The first one to succeed in capturing my attention is more like it. It’s not every day an alluring, spirited woman rudely runs you off the road into the mud then politely tells you with a captivating twinkle in her eye and a mischievous laugh that you’re the one at fault because you’re a fuddy duddy!”
She burst out with that devilish sounding laugh he hadn’t stopped dreaming about since first meeting her.
“Say, I hope those fancy shoes you’re wearing can withstand the walk I have planned for us,” he stated.
“And where are you taking me?”
He started to walk through the crowd, again, on their way up to their final destination at Central Park.
“You’ll see. And we can stop to eat along the way.”
~~*~~
Nine
Street of Dreams
June 13, 1942
Renner stood on the starboard side of the Odin anchored off the coast of Connecticut on the northern rocky shoreline of the Long Island Sound. The choppy waves colliding against the hull reflected his pensive mood.
He loved this yacht. It proved to be the perfect escape not only for his business and his pleasure, but also for discussing his “political” views and activities far from eavesdroppers. The scent of German cigar rose in the warm sea air, infiltrating the pure salty fresh aroma. On such a clear day, he could almost see the shoreline of Glen Cove across the water. Lost in thought and the enjoyment of his stogie, he never heard Gebhardt exit the cabin until the man was standing beside him, smoking his own cigar.
Gebhardt puffed, sending billowing smoke from his lips. “How did you save the Odin from conscription in the Coast Guard’s Civilian Auxiliary?”
“How do you get anything done these days? Money, my friend. Although, sometimes I regret that decision. The Odin could be very effective in helping our wolf packs up and down the Atlantic Coast. Already Operation Paukenschlag has effectively sent over four hundred ships to the bottom of the sea.” Renner sniggered. “America has a false sense of security, as demonstrated by cities along the coast refusing a blackout. Look at Miami. Lit up like a Roman candle every night because they think tourism will suffer. Other cities are much the same.”
“Not New York.”
“Ah, well, the Island is different than Manhattan and its little swine mayor. For years, he was the Director of the Office of Civilian Defense, but that didn’t stop our man’s work on the Normandie. But even still, the Navy has proven to be inept, sitting back on its laurels while U-123 operated in shallow waters these last six months.”
Renner wrapped his lips around the stogie, drawing and puffing methodically.
“Pastorious is successful so far. They made it ashore and have most likely made their way into in the city by now,” Gebhardt buoyed.
“I’ll breathe a sigh of relief after the others arrive in Florida on schedule and when we receive confirmation that they have all arrived safely in Cincinnati on July Fourth.”
“You worry too much, Renner. I told you, Berlin has planned this for months, not a single thing could go wrong, and even if it does, you’re protected. Their handler, the good Reverend in Rahway is so respected and embedded into life within the community that no one would even suspect the Reich had turned him. His financial involvement, let alone yours, would never be called into question as far as the FBI is concerned. You are nothing more than a generous benefactor to Reverend Krepper for the building of his new Lutheran church. The testimony of your sister Helga would collaborate that.”
The engine of a Civil Air Patrol plane flying overhead in search of enemy submarines caused Gebhardt and Renner to look up. Renner shook his head. “Civil. Nothing to worry about. George, I don’t want Helga involved, do you understand? She has no loyalty to the Fatherland. Jazz music corrupted her long ago—her Negermusik is as equally disturbing as her defense of the Jews. It’s bad enough you shared Operation Pastorious with Ingrid.” Renner glanced behind them both, his eyes searching the lounge cabin for his daughter. He lowered his voice, “I don’t like it, not one bit. You put her at risk until victory is achieved.”
“What are you worried about? I said I would look after your interests and that means all of them, your daughters included. Once Ingrid marries the boy, she’ll be safely protected by the Robertsen name and concealed by their American patriotic zeal.”
“Yes, you are right, of course, and he does come from the best bloodline.”
“With her installed as wife to the heir of Robertsen Aviation, any knowledge or sabotage within the factories will be hidden behind her generous financial contributions to Bundles for Britain and the Red Cross, which all imply her personal support of the war. Just today, she has donated fifty thousand to that ‘Buy a Bomber’ program to build one of those Thunderbolts Robertsen Aviation manufactures.” He laughed. “Did you know they’ll actually paint her name on the side of the aircraft? The dedication ceremony will bring just the right amount of press.”
Renner cocked a graying eyebrow. “Does she know that she’s contributed to those organizations?”
Gebhardt responded with his prototypical charmingly suave smile. “Of course not, but I have seen to the details, or I should say—you have seen to the details through FHR Worldwide. As far as anyone is concerned, your daughters do not share their father’s recognizable opinion on American isolationism or obscured Nazi sympathies.”
“Good.” Frederick tossed his cigar stub overboard and walked to the front of the boat. He stood at the prow with his hands on his broad waistline, surveying the expanse of shoreline before him with sanguine optimism. “Soon, George, soon this will all be Germany’s.”
George puffed his cigar. “And not a Jew in sight.”
Renner looked at the sneer upon his lawyer’s lips. “One step at a time, my eager friend. Have arrangements been made with that special group of investors? Among my friends, those in our circle, I want it known that Frederick Renner is a part of this solution. When the New Germany comes to America, I expect to be heralded for my financial contribution to IG Farben.”
“I wonder, Renner, if you have given thought to what your other daughters will think of that? I only ask this because, take Lillian for example, you are put at risk. You can’t be so naïve to believe that if your association is discovered, she would be pleased—or silent—about her father’s involvement in addressing the Gesamtloesung. While I certainly can find no nobler cause, this is your family, and Lillian is rather similar to that sister Helga of yours.”
“She is just like Helga. The moment Lillian volunteered for this war effort, she lost her father’s affections and respect. Her fate is her own. When she is in residence at Meercrest, which is thankfully rare, I tolerate her presence only for the sake of my wife’s nerves.”
Gebhardt laughed. “Nerves?”
Renner’s eyes bore into his lawyer’s. “Yes, you know what causes her nerves.” He looked out to the sea again. “As for the others, Kitty is in no position to voice any objection at all. She is too dependent on my benevolence, and if she were living in Germany, her usefulness would have been brought into question under the T4 Programme. It would be only my economic status to protect her. Simple-minded Gloria is too self-absorbed and indulged to bother herself, and Lizzy … well Lizzy is as loyal to the Renner name and lineage as Ingrid. In time, she will come to understand and, with the proper indoctrination, she will agree with my collaboration. Besides, like Gloria, Lizzy enjoys the life Meercrest affords her. Our affluence alone precludes her objection. As for Frances and her nerves, so long as the martinis flow and she has her mink and diamonds, she remains ostensibly obli
vious.”
“Oblivious even to Nurse Keller.”
Renner laughed, his mood changing on a dime when he slapped Gebhardt on the back. “You did well in finding her for Meercrest. Not only has she been an invaluable courier and an unexpected source of information, but she has also been a delightful diversion in the bedroom.” He laughed again, feeling so self-satisfied and so pleased that after years of celibacy, now he had someone willing and sober enough to indulge him. “I don’t think the Odin has seen so much action since I courted Frances in ’15.”
Gebhardt looked wistfully toward the cabin door behind them. “Yes, the Odin is a perfect escape for sexual liaisons. As is the boathouse … so I have heard.”
“Hmm, yes the boathouse, the tropical house and a time or two in the bathing pavilion. Water is good for a man’s constitution. Greystone in the city has also proved to be a splendid location for our Liebesaffaire. The woman is insatiable, and I don’t mind in the least bit.”
A silence settled between the two men, both lost in their own thoughts of sexual liaisons and desire. One with a perpetual hard on for his daughter’s nurse, and the other lusting after one Renner sister while screwing the other. Gebhardt was working on changing that situation. The closer the Party came to victory, the closer Renner came to an agreement of a union between Elizabeth and him. Marriage arrangements were looked upon as a favorable means of spreading the Nordic seed throughout the world, and his blood was the closest to the Schutzstaffel. He had the Großer Ariernachweis to prove it. Until then, Ingrid was a convenient and willing vessel.
“If you’ll excuse me, Renner, I have some paperwork to attend, something requiring my focused concentration.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for your attention to detail, George. Thank you for your guidance and expertise and as usual your intercession with the Party on my behalf.”
Gebhardt left Renner standing on the bow of the boat, the narrow door sealing tightly behind him when he entered the cabin. With his approach, from within Ingrid’s closed stateroom door, he heard her singing to Glenn Miller’s “Forever Faithful” on the radio. He opened the door to see her sitting at her vanity, brushing her fair hair in long, smooth strokes.
“Are you?” he asked, drinking in her bare back.
She spoke to him in her reflection. “Am I what?”
“Forever faithful, of course.”
Ingrid placed the monogrammed silver brush onto the vanity before her and rose, sauntering toward him with the look in her eyes that he had come to know intimately. She looked beautiful wearing a blue and white skirted two-piece swimsuit. To any observer, she resembled the patriotic woman he and her father had just spoken of, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Gebhardt knew all about her. He liked that he was able to feed her ideologies, and he loved that her appetite for power was as equally voracious as his. He enjoyed that she never held back by playing coy or demure, always giving him exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. She idolized everything about him, and he used it to his will.
His eyes and mouth hungered for a taste of what headed in his direction. Her bare midriff caused him to lick his lips. “Well answer my question, Miss Renner. Are you forever faithful?”
“To whom? Adolph Hitler or George Gebhardt?”
“Both.”
Ingrid’s half-moon manicured hand reached for the cabin’s small door, slamming it behind him. She locked it and grabbed his necktie, pulling him toward her. “Let me show you just how committed I am to the cause.”
Their lips met hungrily, crashing together.
There was no need to completely undress, no need for foreplay. Neither wanted emotion or sentiment from the other. They only required a fast, pounding release. Ingrid’s hand quickly sought his erection, dropping his trousers at the moment her swimsuit slithered down her leg, landing atop her bare, painted toes.
From the prow, where Renner lustfully surveyed the nearby coastline, he never heard the perfume bottles, brushes, and cosmetics crash to the floor when Gebhardt gave Ingrid exactly what she wanted on top of the vanity with her shoulders pressed firmly against the cold glass mirror.
~~*~~
Lizzy and Will fought the heated crush of the crowd along Fifth Avenue’s sidewalk, hands tightly clasped as they navigated their way uptown. Maneuvering around the groups of fixed spectators, they were silent as a particularly heinous float passed their location. Boos and hisses shouted out when the papier mâché sculpture of Hitler standing atop a fearsome dragon rolled past. The caption on the side of the platform read, “Hitler—the Axis War Monster.”
It seemed appropriate the couple would view that float just as they approached the Channel Gardens of Rockefeller Center bordered at the far end with proudly waving flags of thirty-three free nations. The once beautiful beds of flowers had been transformed into a victory garden where broccoli, Swiss chard, and lettuce grew on the outside of the small fountains. Making do with less for the boys of the Armed Forces, as represented by the vegetable garden, was just a small example of America and New York’s local commitment to fight and win on all fronts—even in the kitchen.
They paused before a storefront window where an American propaganda poster dominated the display. Two forceful forearms and fists punctuated with determined purpose brought home the boldly printed message of “Together We Can Do It.”
During the short span of four months since Lizzy had last traveled to Manhattan to shop at Bonwit Teller, the whole city had been transformed. Now, across the street at St. Patrick’s Cathedral rose a growing pile of aluminum. She was in awe of the changes visible at every turn. Straining to observe the source garnering the attention of many gathered patriots toward the sunken plaza before Prometheus’s fountain, she asked Will, “What’s down there?”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s a Liberty Bond drive. See that big, red V stand? It’s probably a Victory Booth. Well … you have a choice, Miss Renner, dinner first from that pushcart right over there and then we can view the display.”
“What’s my other option?”
She giggled behind her glove when his stomach growled as if on cue. “Well, that settles that. We’ll eat first. I’m hungry, too.”
Will grinned and wanting to see Lizzy’s playful smile, he gently removed her hand from her mouth.
Reaching the hot dog vendor stand, they waited patiently for the man in front of them to be served. Quickly taking a deep draw from the bottle, it was obvious the man had much desired that thirst-quenching Coca-Cola. They both noticed, in profile, how he bit into his frank as though he had waited years to taste the uniquely flavored fare from the murky waters of a New York City food cart.
The man removed a thick roll of money from the pocket of his suit and paid the vendor. “Can you tell me where the closest Horn & Hardart is?” he asked with an accented voice, tossing a nickel in the air, catching it, and then smiled. “A piece of huckleberry pie would be a nice dessert.”
Abruptly, in his distinct Brooklyn accent the vendor declared with distaste, “Dang Jerry-owned automat. Closest one is on 57th and 6th. You can ’ave a piece a pie at Woolworths’ five and dime. They’re the best part of the good ole’ U. S. of A.”
Lizzy raised her eyebrows when Will looked over at her. She was a “Jerry” and judging by the accent of the man headed toward Horn and Hardart, he was one as well but that wouldn’t get in either’s way of appreciating a traditional American pastime. Her uncle was Sam not Adolf.
She rose in her white peep toe shoes, whispering behind her hand into Will’s ear, “Some say that the Woolworths’ Winfield Mansion in Glen Cove is haunted. I knew the family.”
He smiled, not giving in to any Renner grandstanding and whispered back, “I know. Do you want one hot dog or two?”
“Just one and a root beer, please.” She removed her gloves, and Will handed her the frank, their fingers brushing against one another in an almost deliberate, slow movement. A traveling electrical current ignited the goose pimples on her arms, her
heart rate spontaneously increasing from just that small, seemingly innocuous touch. She was sure his caress was deliberate.
Together, they sat on the concrete wall between two small pools surrounded by Swiss chard. Lizzy couldn’t help smiling while she chewed her frank, feeling giddy inside as though she were a schoolgirl with a huge crush. Fascinated, she watched the small wink to his dimple as he chewed.
Wondering if he was going to say anything at all, just like the Memorial Day dinner, she caught him obviously happy in his thoughts, watching her.
Her fastidious father would surely scold her if he witnessed her speaking with a mouthful, but she didn’t care. She felt comfortable with Will. She felt as though he wouldn’t condemn her for anything, particularly just being herself—well, a new and improving self and she was trying. Finally, she broke their silence.
“Tell me about your family, Will. Do you have other brothers or sisters?”
“Nope, just Lou and me. He’s my best friend, but whereas he’s all fun and games at twenty-three, I’m his straight man at twenty-one.”
“I can tell, but I think there is a wise guy hidden inside you. You’re not as serious as you pretend to be. Perhaps you just need the right enticement to get into a little mischief now and again.”
“And are you the right enticement, Lizzy?”
She grinned with a mouthful of hot dog, and Will reached over to wipe a dollop of mustard with his thumb from her bottom lip. Her tummy fluttered when he sucked it from his fingertip, his eyes locking with hers in flirtatious amusement as he did so. She wished it had been his lips sucking hers clean.
“Perhaps, I am the right woman for the job. You’ll have to stick around to find out and allow me to introduce you to all sorts of trouble.”
“Unfortunately, I leave for Florida in a few days. That’s barely enough time to get into trouble.”
