His lips reflexively turned up in a smile, which I returned, though I lowered my eyes in an attempt to be demure. He didn’t seem the sort that cared for bold women. Speak quietly, act coyly. Shyly even, though not overly so.
He’d be easy to influence so long as he never noticed I was doing it.
Metta had been right. Industriousness was the key to this warden’s heart. I would have to seduce him with hard work and charm. My stomach turned at the idea of seducing him in a literal sense, but I would do what was necessary. I couldn’t honor Harald’s memory if I were dead as well.
Since I didn’t have my work with me, I decided to rearrange the three pieces of furniture in the cell to make a more functional workspace. I moved the table and chair closer to the cell window to take advantage of what natural light there was. The bed I moved to the darkest corner in the slim hope that it would improve my sleep. The bedding was dusty, so I removed it and beat it against the chair. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but I met with some success. I hoped the warden would see these efforts as fastidiousness rather than impertinence, but I couldn’t afford to take half measures with my life. I said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for the comforts of a window and a small sink. If nothing else, I would have some light and could maintain a basic level of hygiene.
Three hours later, the warden returned, Peter by his side. A bag was slung over his shoulder.
“Your request has been approved,” the warden said. “This young man is to report at four in the afternoon each day to collect your work and bring your next assignments.”
“How wonderful,” I said, hardly able to contain my glee at having something to do to fill the void of endless hours. I had no desire to further the Nazi cause, but it would keep me alive. I couldn’t do much to resist if I were dead. “Thank you for taking this matter up, Gefängnisleiter.” I tempered my enthusiasm, but gladly accepted the bag from Peter.
“Please tell Flugkapitän Mueller I am grateful to remain on the project,” I told Peter graciously.
“I’ll relay the message, Flugkapitän von Oberndorff. But my duties aren’t finished for the day, so I’ll say goodbye until tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Peter.”
“You really are a flight captain?” the warden asked incredulously. “Your father permitted such a venture?”
“Indeed, he did,” I said. “Goaded me on, more accurately. It was my mother who objected.”
“I can see why. It’s a dangerous profession for a woman,” he said.
“Indeed, but even dangerous tasks must be done in times like these.”
“Well put, young lady,” he said, standing straighter. “And I do like what you’ve done with your cell. It looks very efficient.”
“I think it will be,” I said. “And I’m grateful to have the chance to be of use.”
“I shall leave you to work, then. If you find you are missing anything that you need to complete your work, I’ll do what I can to accommodate you.”
I emptied the contents of the bag onto the table. It was largely filled with the schematics I’d been working on as well as an assortment of office supplies I would need to do the job. A bar of chocolate was hidden in the inner pocket along with a blank notebook. Inside the notebook was a loose scrap of paper with Peter’s tidy scrawl.
J~
If you need anything at all, scribble a note on the paper from this book and send it back in your bag when I come to swap it out the next day. I can’t make promises, but I will try. In the interim, I thought keeping a journal would be a comfort to you, but be careful what you write. Destroy this.
~P
I took a pen from the collection of office supplies Peter had delivered and crossed out his words until they were illegible. I then ripped the paper into minuscule pieces and washed a pinch full of the shreds down the sink every few minutes so they wouldn’t clog the drain. That would be an effective solution for today, but I would have to find other solutions for the future. Trips to the lavatory and mess hall would have to serve in this purpose as well.
I settled in with the schematics for the landing gear for the Junkers Ju 88 and sketched and redesigned until I lost myself in the work. I had to assume they’d run my work by another engineer to make sure it was up to par and that I wasn’t giving them design plans that would cost the Reich time, money, and resources. They would find nothing amiss.
Only the guard summoning me to take my evening meal alerted me to how much time had passed. I wasn’t permitted to dine with other prisoners but was allowed to eat in the empty dining hall when they were finished with their meals. The food was roughly equivalent to the mess at work, so at least I wouldn’t be miserable on that score, though the chocolate bar now stowed in my pillow would be welcome when I returned to my cell.
I was permitted five minutes in the lavatory after my meal, and immediately escorted back to my cell by the guard, who seemed positively bored with his duties.
He locked the door, and I tried to ignore the feeling of the walls closing in on me. I lay down in my bed, almost instinctively reaching for Harald, who would never sleep by my side again. I allowed myself the indulgence of tears for a few minutes, but then forced myself to dry my face and return to work for a few more hours. It would be a solitary life, but better than none at all.
I’d cursed Harald for his recklessness in being involved in the plot to kill Hitler more times than I could count in the past few days, but he’d been the one to take a stand. I no longer cursed his folly . . . I was ashamed of my own cowardice. It was time to atone for my past wrongs and be of use to the right side of the fight.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TAKING A STEP
MAX
August 13, 1947
Los Angeles, California
Sarah was a good-natured woman in her midforties; a war widow who was eager to find a job to fill the lonely hours and to provide for her two young boys. It seemed like the number of women in her situation were countless. I was happy to give Sarah gainful employment as I set up my practice, but there were so many others who weren’t as fortunate. Her short stature, red hair, and ready smile put the patients at ease, and her efficiency in running the office was impressive.
“A full load today, Doctor,” she said, plopping a neat stack of manila folders into the inbox on my desk. “Word’s getting out about you.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said. It took time to grow the practice, but the bank didn’t take that into consideration when collecting loan payments. I hadn’t missed one yet, but it had been tight more than a few times, and medical bills had Dad more strapped for cash than I was.
“Any word yet?” Sarah had spent so many hours typing copies of the letter seeking Margarethe’s whereabouts that she never went a day without asking after her.
“No,” I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose and leaning back in my chair. “Not so much as a form letter in a month.”
“That’s a shame,” she said.
“You think I’m insane, don’t you? Spending all this time looking for her.” I folded my arms over my chest to gauge her reaction.
“You’re . . . loyal,” she said. “There are worse things to be said about a person.”