shoulder, of course), how lousy the weather was in southern California what with the almost constant sunshine, and what it was like to get Montezuma’s Revenge along with other maladies from a trip south of the border to Tijuana. Hope had been touring for the USO since May 1941, well before the formal start of hostilities. He informed the troops that there was no way he was going to slow down. Hell, he reminded them, he wasn’t even forty years old yet.
“I’m going to go to England, and Churchill and this Eisenhower guy will be in the audience. Then I’ll go to North Africa and do a command performance for Rommel, except we’ll be commanding him, of course, and he’ll be watching from a prison cage.”
That comment brought cheers and he continued. “When I started these shows, I said I’d take them as close to the front lines as possible. Little did I know that part of the front lines would include San Diego. Y’know, that’s got to change, and real soon.” More cheers. “Here’s a thought. Next year at this time why don’t we have this show a little bit farther west? Like Tokyo.”
Still more cheers. “And we’ll have Hirohito in the audience as well.” He grinned widely and wickedly. “Don’t you think he’d look absolutely wonderful in prison stripes?” He struck a thoughtful pose. “Yes, a prison-striped kimono.”
The show ended to wild applause and the happy crowd filed out. Amanda and Tim waited for the field to empty. She was far from the only woman present, as many nurses and female military were present along with a handful of wives and local girlfriends. Still, girl-hungry young men stared at her. Some glared, apparently resentful that she’d found an officer to care for her. Amanda decided she didn’t care.
As Dane stood up, an envelope fell out of his jacket pocket. “Oops,” he said. “I totally forgot I had this on me. Can’t have other people seeing this.” He was annoyed at himself. He’d left in such a hurry after meeting with Harris that he’d forgotten the pictures were in his pocket.
“Am I other people?” she teased.
Tim smiled. He’d gotten in the habit of talking with her about almost everything, and security be damned. Who the hell was Amanda going to talk to? Tojo?
He handed her the envelope. “Here. These are a couple of photos of some interesting characters.”
“Your saboteurs?”
“Possibly. No, it’s likely them. We may have gotten a break.”
Amanda happily opened the envelope. She liked it when Tim trusted her enough to show her things like that. She stared at the first picture and paled. “Tim, oh, my God.”
“What?”
“I’ve seen this man.”
“Wh-where?” Dane stammered. This was incredible.
She looked at him sadly. “I don’t remember.”
CHAPTER 17
AT FIRST, NEITHER SANDY NOR GRACE COULD IDENTIFY THE MAN in the photo either, although they too were certain they’d seen him somewhere. All three agreed that they’d never seen the second man. But where had they seen the first man, was the maddening question.
Dane had quickly contacted Harris and they all met in the FBI office close to Tim’s. The photos were on the table, staring back at them. Both Tim and Harris were stunned that the women might have been close to the German, and the women were frustrated that they couldn’t recall when, where, or why. Harris was pacing and it was clear that his frustration was growing as well.
Finally, it was Grace who broke the spell, clapping her hands and laughing. “Oh shit. Now it’s coming to me. He was the creep in Zuckerman’s office who looked so angry and like he wanted to undress us right then and there.”
“Yes!” exclaimed Amanda, and Sandy chimed in as well.
This required a quick explanation of why they were in Zuckerman’s office in the first place, and Harris took notes. He was mildly curious about this Mack character and what might be in the safe deposit box, but that was a job for the state of California, which seemed to have it covered.
First thing the next morning Harris, Dane, and a couple of other agents went to Zuckerman’s office. The additional firepower was present on the off chance that they might run into Braun just as Amanda and the others had. If so, Dane had specific orders to stand back and he pledged to obey.
Dane was mildly amused when the lawyer and his secretary, Judith, arrived together, and were conversing with a degree of intimacy that went beyond a working relationship. He wondered if there was a Mrs. Zuckerman or if the secretary had a husband, and decided it was none of his business.
Inside his office, Zuckerman looked at the picture and nodded. He handed it to Judith who agreed. “His name is Olaf Swenson and he rents some property from me,” Zuckerman said.
“What do you know about him?” Harris asked.
“Not all that much. I know that he’s a Swedish engineer who started up a small business and is working doing something for the navy. He works with another foreigner who might be Swedish as well. Swenson is the one who pays the rent, and his money’s always been good. He pays on time and in cash.”
“He’s a jerk.” Judith glared. “He’s rude and obnoxious. It’s obvious he dislikes Jews. He probably can’t stand the thought of having to pay money to one.”
Harris nodded grimly. “That’s because he’s German and a Nazi and SS to boot.”
Zuckerman recoiled as if he’d been struck. “A Nazi? Here? That can’t be. I would never do business with a Nazi. What is your proof?”
Harris was about to respond that the FBI didn’t need proof in wartime to arrest someone, but thought better of it. “It’s true, Mr. Zuckerman. These photos are those of a part of a group of Nazis left behind in Mexico when the war started. These two have come north to commit as much sabotage as they can. I normally wouldn’t give you all that information, but I want you to understand what we’re all up against.”
The lawyer shook his head as if to clear his mind of the shock. “I believe. How do I evict the sons of bitches?”
“Hopefully, we can do it for you,” Harris said. “Now, please give me the address of the property.”
After the agents left with the address and all other information they possessed, Judith hugged a disconsolate and sobbing Zuckerman. “I can’t believe I rented to Nazis. I can’t believe I had anything to do with the filthy swine. After what’s happening to my family in Europe, it’s almost impossible to comprehend.”
Zuckerman’s last letter from his Aunt Hilda in Austria had been smuggled out and informed him that several of his family had been ordered to report to a new work camp in Poland. His aunt added that she hadn’t yet been swept up, and said she’d received a postcard saying their relatives had arrived at a place near the town of Auschwitz and were doing well. Aunt Hilda used subtle phrasing in her letter to fool anyone reading it. It was clear that she didn’t believe it at all, and that their relatives were likely doomed. As was she, Zuckerman thought.
Judith sat beside him on the office couch. She cradled his head to her bosom and rocked him and kissed his forehead. She too had relatives back in Europe, although in France where she hoped they were safe. That is, if there was any place in the world where a Jew could be safe.
“Look on the bright side, dear,” Judith said as tears ran down her cheek. “Now you have the chance to destroy him.” She stood up and straightened her dress. “And we are going to do exactly what that nice FBI man said we should do, aren’t we?”
Zuckerman managed a smile. “You’re right. A little vacation is more than in order.”
Caution, patience, and a strong sense of paranoia were vital assets for any agent working behind enemy lines, and both Braun and Krause possessed all three in abundance. They had spent much time observing the goings on in the neighborhood near Swenson Engineering. They observed the actions and routines of the area regulars and quietly memorized them. They knew who their neighbors were and who their friends and customers were. This, of course, meant that they too were known quantities to those same neighbors, and they went out of their way to
