Michael Wenberg - The Last Eagle

“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Ritter said, removing his cap. “My name is Peter von Ritter. And you?”

“Frieda Aaviksoo,” Sieinski said. “Her husband is a minister in the government.”

“What a delight.” Ritter said, nodding slightly. He didn’t offer her his hand. He replaced the cap on his head and looked sharply at Sieinski. “Well?”

As Sieinski nodded, his face began to change, sag in upon itself like a rotten pumpkin too long in the sun. He turned to his cousin. “Yes, my dear,” he said hoarsely. “My men are in need of their captain. A few formalities. And then I will return.”

The woman patted Sieinski on the cheek. “You know,” she said to Ritter, “Józef is my favorite cousin. It was such a nice surprise to hear he was in town.”

“I’m sure,” Ritter remarked dryly. “Shall we go?”

Ritter settled into the back seat of the Mercedes with an audible sigh. “Marvelous vehicle, don’t you think? Nothing quite like it in the world. And these seats. Only the very best leather. Quality always shines through. It is the same with people, I think.” Ritter smiled broadly. “I hope you found satisfactory resolution to your, ah, sickness?”

Sieinski ignored the barb. He stared out the window, watching buildings flick by, windows lit up warmly, everything normal. He wondered what was happening in Poland. His cousin had been listening to the BBC when he arrived at her house. The news was bleak: Germans advancing across all fronts, Warsaw surrounded. He couldn’t help wonder how different it would be if had ignored Ritter’s advice.

“Could we have made France?” Sieinski asked.

Ritter knew what Sieinski wanted, but it wasn’t his place to give it to him. He would have to find that in a cathedral. “Yes, of course,” he said dismissively.

Sieinski’s shoulder dropped ever so slightly. What little that had remained of the man who had existed the night before the Eagle left Gdynia had now vanished completely. “What do you want me to do?” Sieinski asked dully.

“In the morning, your men are to be taken to a safe haven,” Ritter said. “The Lituanian government has agreed to accept them for the time being. From there, they will be repatriated back to Poland, or to a neutral country of their choice.”

“What about me?”

Ritter couldn’t hide the sneer. Of course, he was true to type. How had this narcissist become a leader of men? He only thought of himself. His men were nothing to him. He was a disgrace. It was unfortunate that the crew couldn’t be freed instead and this man taken to the border their place and handed over to the NKVD, the Soviet secret police. “You are free to do what you want.” He watched Ritter’s fingers tapping nervously on his thigh. “And as for your men, I want you to tell them what I just told you. Assure them that no harm will come to them. They will be treated with all due respect. Tell them that this has been worked out with the Polish embassy.”

“Has it?”

Ritter didn’t respond.

“I see,” Sieinski said. “And my father?”

“As soon as you do what I have asked, I will notify my superiors of your cooperation.”

“How can I trust you?”

“Yes, yes,” the German sighed. “There it is. How can you trust anyone today? Who knows what is in another’s heart and mind, really? You make love to a woman, and assume she has thoughts only for you, but in reality, she is dreaming of another, perhaps your best friend, or the man playing saxophone in the band at the club you just visited. And while you are making love to her, you are thinking of another, maybe that lovely American woman who accompanied us on the Eagle , eh? Who knows anything in times such as these? But on this I give you my word as one officer to another.”

Sieinski glanced at the German next to him. “Very well,” he said softly. Not that he had any choice in the matter.

Stefan finally gave up and bothered someone for a couple of cigarettes. That distraction settled, he had returned to his seat in the corner, ignoring the looks and comments from his officers, and then proceeded to light the first one, smoking it slowly, watching the smoke eddy toward the ceiling.

He was on his third cigarette when, as promised, food and drink arrived. Plates of steaming sausages, noodles, bread, soup, potatoes, bowls of grapes and apples, and bottles of beer and cider were set up on tables along with plates, cutlery and cups. Amazing what effects a good meal and drink can have on a person, Stefan thought, watching his men line up. Bellies quickly filled, the crew of the Eagle , sullen and restless earlier, had quickly settled down. Soon enough the last of the food was gone, a few of them men laughing and joking with the two guards in the room, asking when the music would begin and the dancing girls would arrive. Instead of complaining when they were told none were coming, a couple of sailors began singing Polish folk songs, their voices bright and cheerful. A few of the jokers among them even tried their hands at dancing, their male partners doing their best impressions of shy country girls.

From his chair in the corner of the room, Stefan showed little interest in the antics of his crew. He was smoking slowly, his thoughts remained locked up. Eryk had brought a plate of food over to him, but when Stefan hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge his presence, he had left it on the floor. It was still there, uneaten.

Stefan didn’t notice Kate when she first stepped through the doorway, the Estonian officer on one side of her, Reggie on the other. That wasn’t the case with the rest of the crew, however, who as soon as they recognized who it was, began whistling their approval at the change that had come over their former passenger. Kate smiled in response. When she twirled around like a movie star or a model, their cheers increased, and she was immediately surrounded, all of them begging for a dance.

Kate laughed with delight, apologizing loudly. She pushed them aside and marched across the room and right up to Stefan. “Doesn’t look like we’re going to get our dinner with Hans,” she said, taking a deep breath, “so how about a dance instead?” She gave Stefan the kind of smile that would have wakened a dead man.

The Eagle’s crew whistled their approval. The singers began another song. Stefan stubbed out his cigarette and looked up. “Why are you here?” he said listlessly.

Kate’s smile dissolved into a look of contempt. She glanced down at the plate of uneaten food on the floor next to his chair. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sarcastically. “Maybe I came to the wrong place? I thought there were some sailors here itching for a fight with the Germans. I guess I was wrong. I see now it’s just a room filled with a bunch of dumb Polacks. And I’m beginning to think that you’re the dumbest of the lot. Having a little pity party, are you? Tricked out of your boat, of all things, my, my. And betrayed by your captain. Didn’t even get a chance to fight the bad guys. And now, I see you’re sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. You poor little baby.” She reached out to pat him on the cheek. “Looks like I’m wasting my time….”

Kate’s words had had their desired effect. Each one was like a puff of wind on a hot cool night. Stefan began to rise, his face hardening. He intercepted Kate’s wrist just before her hand touched his cheek. “Enough,” he whispered fiercely, aware now that the singing had stopped, that everyone was watching, including the Estonian officer, who had begun to cross the floor, a puzzled expression on his face. “What do you want?”

Kate gave Stefan a strained smile. “Just get up and dance with me, you big dope. Please…”

“I must warn you,” Stefan said as he slowly stood and forced a smile to his face. “I cannot dance.”