“It’s a love letter,” she said. “What’s liebessklave mean?”
“You are really going to have to brush up on your German if you’re going to be of any use to us.”
“There you go again about the coming war.”
“A future war is exactly what we’re trying to prevent. With Starlight’s help, we just might.”
“With this love letter?”
“Liebessklave. Means love slave. The dot on the ‘i’ in that word is a microdot. It contains information about Hitler’s imminent plans concerning France.”
“Such as?”
Hewitt gripped the wheel tighter as he wrestled with going against his instincts, his training.
“He intends to reoccupy the Rhineland. It’s a buffer between France and Germany, put in place after the Versailles treaty. There are French troops there now. If Hitler goes marching in with his stormtroopers, it might start a war.”
“I see.” She handed back the note. “He is a monster, your Agent Starlight.”
“A necessary evil. He has the perfect cover. No one would suspect a fanatic of being a traitor. And that’s all I’m going to say about him. We might share Starlight’s product with your side eventually, but we run him.”
“How are we going to get away?”
“I’m going to follow his suggestion: the Polish frontier. It’s a hundred miles away. We can ditch the car and make it on foot if we have to.”
They drove past a wooden sign on the roadside.
“I have a better suggestion,” Aubrey said. “Take the next turnoff.”
“What the blazes for?”
“Just do it.”
Hewitt obeyed and saw what she meant him to see. There was another sign and an arrow marked ‘fifteen kilometres.’
“You’re out of your mind.”
“I think we can pull it off, and it will be a lot quicker than driving or walking out of Germany.”
They approached the gates of the Kesselberg air base, the one where the count had mentioned the flight trials of the Bf 109 were ongoing. There was a guarded perimeter, naturally. Two soldiers manned a white- and red-striped pole, raising it up to let cars and trucks enter. More soldiers stood lazily around, rifles slung over their shoulders.
“These are Luftwaffe personnel, aren’t they?” Aubrey asked as they crept up on the perimeter.
“Yes. Their guns are still real; they fire real bullets.”
“Just leave it to me.”
The non-commissioned officer in charge approached Hewitt’s open window. Aubrey leaned across the British spy. She spoke to the airman in a mixture of German and English and handed across a business card. The NCO read it, then went into the shack. He came back out and seemed reluctant to do so, but he ordered his men to lift the barrier. Hewitt waited for instructions from him and took the card back. The NCO instructed them where to park and which building to enter on the air base. Aubrey thanked him, and Hewitt drove on.
“What the devil does that card say?”
She handed it to him. There was writing on the back. Hewitt read it out loud. “‘To whom it may concern: please afford this young lady all the courtesy and help she requires.’” He turned it over and his eyes went wide with astonishment. “My word, it’s from…”
“Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering.”
“The old boy got us past the front gate. Big deal.”
“We’ll see.”
They were greeted at the administration building and shown inside. Aubrey, assisted by Hewitt’s excellent German, told the clerk what they were there for. He in turn told a sergeant, who summoned a lieutenant and then a captain.
The Germans looked at each other. Aubrey produced her card one more time for all to see and read. She and Hewitt were allowed to wait there while the officers walked off to phone it in. Aubrey spied a handsome-looking flyer in a leather jacket and flight helmet walking from the flight line. She jumped up and ran to the door.
“Albert,” she called.
The pilot stopped when he saw Aubrey, a puzzled look on his face as he struggled to remember her. She ran out of the building to him. Hewitt looked around; there was no one holding him back. He quickly followed after her.
“Albert, my friend,” Aubrey said, and embraced him.
“Aubrey, is that you? What is this? How are you here?”
“We’re meeting some VIPs; they’re going to show us the Bf 109. We may even go up in one! Are there any trainers about? Two-seaters?”
“No, I am afraid not.” He turned to Hewitt. “Who is this?”
“Albert, this is—”
“Carter Stowe,” Hewitt answered, and extended his hand. “Air Attaché to the British embassy in Berlin. I’m escorting Miss Endeavours on her tour of the Luftwaffe.”
“I see.”
“Are you going up in a 109 now?”
“Sadly, no. I have been switched to larger aircraft – bombers. My poor showing in the air rally. You don’t have a Luftwaffe escort?”
“Not yet. We were just waiting there for the Count Helmut von Villiez to arrive. He will be our escort.”
“I see. This is a highly restricted area. I would hate for something to happen to you. Perhaps you should wait inside.”
“Ahh, come on, Albert.” Aubrey moved in closer and put an arm around his shoulder. She pulled the gun out of her jacket and stuck it into his stomach.
“Aubrey...” He winced.
She stuffed it right up under his diaphragm. That got his attention.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“The fighters—where are they?”
“This is an outrage.”
“I don’t want to have to blow you in half, but I will, Albert. I know you have a wife and child at home. You want to make it home to them today, don’t you? I certainly want you to make it home today.”
Hewitt shielded her from view as best he could. She noticed that he now had his pistol out as well, but held it inside his coat.
“The fighters are this way,” Albert said.
“Let’s go, nice and slow. No sudden movements, no alarms raised.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Big smile, please.”
The German pilot led them to the last hangar in a row of eight. They walked past bombers and light aircraft, gliders even; all the hangars had Luftwaffe personnel in them, mechanics mostly. Aubrey hoped the last hangar had what she wanted, or they would
