'You're with me; Stanley is driving us to Schiphol Airport and Jackson is following up with Oliver. Let's get going, our flight is in a couple of hours and I don't want to miss it.'
Dale exaggeratedly jerked his arm out and blatantly studied the face of his watch as his wrist was exposed. He grimaced sullenly.
'We'll easily make that. Anyway, I don't see why we don't fly down in the morning; we only have to be at Wiesbaden by tomorrow evening.'
Jolene skewed her lower jaw to one side but just stopped herself from grinding her teeth.
'We get down there tonight, then we can have a good rest and not have to worry about travelling. Besides, I want us to visit Hanna Paulus' great-granddaughter in the morning and we can drive there directly from the garrison.'
She lightly tapped the roof of the car.
'Come on, let's get going.'
By the time Jackson had ambled down to the ramp and settled himself into the spacious rear seat of the car, Stanley had already left with Jolene and Dale a good few minutes earlier. Leaning back and planting his head against the headrest, Jackson let out a long tiresome sigh.
'I'll be glad when today is over Private Oliver, I don't mind admitting that I'm tired as hell. It's been a long day!'
Oliver smiled lightly in response and switched the ignition, selecting drive from the automatic gearbox.
'We'll be settled at the garrison in a few hours sir, they also have some great food over there, I've spent a bit of time at the camp before. You should be able to get a good night's rest tonight!'
A broad smile creased Jackson's face and his teeth shone white.
'Sounds good to me, drive on my friend.'
Oliver pumped the accelerator and the big car surged through the gates, slewing right and bumping down onto the boulevard of Korte Voorhout ready to head north out of the city. As they came to the large junction only fifty metres from the embassy, Oliver slowed the car and checked the way even though the light was green for him - cyclists often took no notice whatsoever of the traffic signals in The Hague and it was better to be safe than sorry.
Within a second of checking both directions, a loud bang shook the whole car and the steering wheel and driver's door air-bags smartly slapped Oliver in the face and left ear in a cloud of white lubricant powder, wheezing a gasp from his lungs more by shock of deployment than force. Tyres screeched and metal momentarily shrieked as the front end of the Audi was shunted a good thirty degrees from it's position and it took a moment for the occupants to realise that a white van had shot out of a small side-road and driven directly into the front passenger side of the car at full-speed, smashing the right wing and buckling the doors. As small particles of glass and plastic tinkled onto the road surface, Oliver and Jackson sat for a moment, dazed and confused.
Inevitably, it was the Marine who regained his senses first and he automatically made to reach inside his leather jacket, forgetting that it was still zipped up from where he had been waiting out in the cold for Jackson. The wasted seconds that should have resulted in the retrieval of his handgun were enough for the glass of the driver's door to suddenly implode and for a fist capped by a bronze knuckle-duster to shoot in and smash into the side of Oliver's head. A large gash was rent across his brow and even though he fought the rapid onset of concussion, his last thought before he blacked out completely was of Staff Sergeant Stanley bawling him out for having failed to deliver his passenger safely.
Jackson was shocked but cognisant enough to unbuckle his seat belt, intending to burst out of the opposite side of the car to the scene of the accident, however, an arm had snaked in through the driver's window and unlatched the rear passenger door. Jackson suddenly halted as he became aware of a balaclava wearing man levelling a gun at him. Through the slits of the woollen mask he could see dark eyes and the white teeth of a smile as the man slowly nodded to him, almost apologetically. Jackson sighed and managed to gulp before a fist shot out and smashed into his temple, immediately knocking him unconscious.
'You are kidding me?' Jolene gasped, a definite edge to her voice bordering on exasperation and with a hint of barely contained rage bubbling through. 'What the hell was Oliver doing?'
They had arrived at the airport within fifty minutes of leaving The Hague and Jolene had been somewhat surprised that Jackson and Oliver had still not turned up. Her suspicions were on the rise when her phone had started to ring and she saw that the call was from Jackson. After a garbled start to the conversation, he had proceeded to explain the nature of their delay.
As she listened, Jolene stared at Staff Sergeant Stanley and her eyes blazed as the voice on the phone murmured in her ear.
'Unbelievable. Alright, take a later flight, I think there is another one in two or three hours, failing that, fly down tomorrow morning. Oliver can recover and join us later.'
Dale sheepishly glanced at Stanley and they could both hear the indistinct muttering coming from the handset as Jolene listened.
'Alright, but take it easy. I'll drive up to Bad Soden with Dale in the morning; you just concentrate on resting up at Wiesbaden. We'll aim to see you tomorrow evening - Alright - Bye.'
Jolene jabbed at the keypad of her phone and then stuffed it into an inside pocket. She stared at Stanley and her lips tightened.
'Apparently, Jackson and Oliver were rammed by another car, they were then attacked and both of them were knocked unconscious. If that wasn't enough, the bag containing
Dirigo Lux
was stolen from the boot of the car.'
She folded her arms sternly and her eyes bored into Stanley.
'You guys were brought in to provide protection. That hasn't quite worked out so far has it?'
Stanley gritted his teeth and nodded.
'Ma'am.'
Jolene turned around and placed her arms akimbo as she tilted her head back. She thought for a moment and then turned back again to face Stanley.
'I've said to you before that this is no boondoggle,' she glanced at Dale, 'that is a waste of time and money for the uninitiated, but everybody really needs to take that on board. What if Jackson or Oliver had been killed? I want you to turn it up a few notches Sergeant; I don't want any more mistakes. Do I make myself clear?'
Dale felt somewhat embarrassed at seeing the professional military man dressed down by Jolene, although in fairness, she had been a Captain in the United States Marine Corps.
Staff Sergeant Stanley stiffened and nodded.
'Yes Ma'am!'
'Good, now let's board our plane. Jackson wants to hang around for Oliver and thinks that he should be well enough to travel by tomorrow lunchtime. Apparently, they're keeping him in hospital overnight for observation. We all need to accept that we are now being targeted and so we need to be on our toes.'
'Who did it though, was it just a car-jacking?' Dale asked, squinting in thought.
'What? In The Hague?' Jolene sneered. 'You're the local boy, when was the last time you heard of a car-jacking here?'
'Hey,' defended Dale, 'The Hague has plenty of stabbings and muggings, try reading the papers before you start thinking that bicycle theft is as bad as it gets!'
'Regardless,' Jolene continued drily, 'they knew exactly what they were looking for and specifically took the book and our other physical evidence has also gone. We just have a couple of page scans left that Jackson made for his presentation!'
She sighed and looked derisively between the men.
'I know that we have to fly to Germany unarmed, but let's just be extra vigilant and make sure that our hand-luggage doesn't go missing too.'
The suggestion was dripping with sarcasm.
'Yeah,' Dale harrumphed under his breath, 'my iPod is in my bag and I definitely don't want to lose that.'
Stanley smirked drily, picked up his bag and started to walk in the direction of their departure lounge.
Family Ties
After an uneventful flight to Frankfurt Airport and a late-night drive to the US Army Garrison based in Wiesbaden, Jolene, Dale and Stanley had been accommodated in a three-bedroomed married quarter's house within the camp boundary.
Although they had been forced to leave their own sizeable collection of weapons behind in The Netherlands due to the logistics of transporting them over the border to Germany by air, it had not taken long for Stanley to compensate for their loss and they were now in possession of a veritable armoury. Kappel's intervention and prior arrangements had ensured that they had been given access to whatever they needed.
Jolene had conveyed the loss of
Dirigo Lux
to Kappel and had been surprised that he had taken it so well.
'It means that we're on to something,' he had said.
Although she could empathise with the sentiment, as far as she was concerned they were still scrabbling around like three blind beggars, scratching for coins in the gutter, tossed their way at the whim of unseen forces.
As a minor relief and just as Oliver had predicted to Jackson, the trio had been at least been comforted by being able to eat an excellent meal in a restaurant on base, although the conversation between the compatriots had been stilted and awkward, the affects of the long day having taken its toll. They were all keen to settle down for the rest of the evening and as expected, Jolene had acted as the matriarch of their new household and had needlessly insisted that they all retire for an early night.
Rising early the next morning, Jolene sat at the kitchen table supping a coffee as Dale shuffled in and proceeded to pour himself a cup from the percolator. She started tapping at a laptop computer that Stanley had requisitioned from their Special Forces liaison the previous evening and without looking up from her work began speaking.
'There are some cereals in the cupboards, bread and preserves, even some peanut butter - all American brands so it's just like being back on home soil. I suggest that you have a good breakfast, we may have a long day ahead of us.'
Dale swung open one of the cupboards lining the kitchen walls.
'Yes mother,' he muttered, 'although I can't find me Lucky Charms.'
Jolene did not respond to the sarcasm and continued to work at her laptop.
'Don't tell me that Stanley is still in bed?' Dale asked, picking up his cup of black coffee and blowing over it to cool it down.
'Not at all, you're the last one up. Stanley was up and about at 06:00, I woke up about half and hour later. I decided to let you get a bit more beauty sleep but just so that you know, I want to be on the road by eight o'clock so you have forty-five minutes to get ready.'
'Where are we going?'
'A town just north of Frankfurt called Bad Soden. We're going to see a Paula Krom, the great-granddaughter of Hanna Paulus. Looks like she has done quite well for herself, I've checked her address details and she lives in a large house in an expensive suburb of the town. We don't have many personal details, thirty-seven years of age, unmarried, no known employment, but we need to be aware that she could be connected somehow, she may have followed in Hanna's footsteps for all we know.'
'Alright,' Dale nodded apathetically, 'well, I'll go and get ready then. Is Stanley driving us?'
'No, I am.'
She paused and looked up.
'Don't worry; I'll be armed so you'll be quite safe.'
Dale raised his eyebrows and started to shuffle out, carrying his coffee and muttering to himself.
'Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better.'
At around nine o'clock in the morning, Jolene and Dale stood before the large oak door to Paula Krom's house, the residence located in an obviously affluent area of the town of Bad Soden. The building had two floors and a row of large dorma windows jutting out from the roof, possibly indicating further living space in the attic; the whole house indicating wealth and privilege and it was Jolene's assessment that Hanna's great-granddaughter could be considered as rich. Jolene pressed a discrete door bell and they both waited.
Presently, the door was opened by a short and very attractive woman in her late thirties and Dale's attention was immediately arrested by the sight of her full pouting lips, their naturally voluptuous plumpness emphasised with a shimmering coating of lip gloss. Suddenly aware of the direction of his gaze, he quickly looked into her eyes and noted that the irises were piercing, accented by the careful application of mascara to her long eyelashes, offset by high cheek bones that accented her oval face and strong jaw line.
Although she was not his usual type, she had something of an aura about her, light seemed to radiate from her face, framed as it was by full and long blonde hair that cascaded in wavy rivulets of golden threads down her back. Without quite knowing why, he found that he could not help himself smiling broadly at her even though her eyes emanated an icy coolness.
Jolene noted Dale's shift in demeanour and quickly glanced sideways at him, turning back as an expression of disdain flashed across her face; she felt at urge to slap him. Looking directly at the woman standing in the doorway, her lateral vision observed the fine two-ply aqua blue cashmere sweater, the skin skimming white jeans and from the fine gold straps embedded with topaz stones of the woman's four inch stiletto mules she recognised her footwear as Jimmy Choo. It had to be several degrees below freezing outside and this woman was wearing strappy high heeled sandals and flitting about her house as if was a summer's day. Jolene forced herself to refrain from jumping to conclusions, although her mind was racing ahead, already judging her as a wealthy
hausfrau
with too much money and too much time on her hands.
She smiled curtly and spoke in German.
'
Guten Morgen. Sind Sie Frau Paula Krom
?'
The woman gave a slow nod of her head and looked querulously at Jolene and then Dale.
'
Ja, kann ich Ihnen helfen
?'
Jolene smiled broadly and continued speaking in German, although it was abundantly clear to Dale what she was saying.
'
Mein Name ist Jacqueline Lillard und ich arbeite für die amerikanischen Bundespolizei, das FBI
.'
She nodded toward Dale.
'
Das ist mein Kollege Dale Mallory. Könnten wir Sie einen Moment sprechen
?'
Paula Krom smiled knowingly and nodded.
'You are an American, not so? I speak English, but I have forgotten some words. I think we can understand each other.'
She looked Jolene up and down, taking in the biker boots and the heavy sheepskin flying jacket and clearly expressing her doubt via a frown.
'The FBI? It is very, what is the English word? -
Ungewöhnlich
- I think it is strange that you have visited to me on a Sunday morning; you did not call for an appointment. Can you not return on Monday or Tuesday?'
Jolene responded to the admonishment and adopted an apologetic tone.
'I am so sorry, I understand entirely, it was my boss in the US, he insisted that we visit you as soon as possible as this is a very important matter. We don't have a telephone number for you so we couldn't call ahead. I am very sorry that we needed to impose upon you like this but I need to fly back to the US tomorrow and this is the only opportunity that I had to visit you.'
Paula nodded in mute understanding as she looked at Jolene's plaintive expression.
'Yes, very well, I see that you have to do as your boss asks you.'
A pursed smile creased her lips.
'Do you have an identity card?'
Dale tensed slightly, obviously aware that Jolene was using the same alias that she had assumed when she had met Gertrude, however, on the previous occasion she had not been asked for an ID. To his surprise, Jolene delved into an inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out a black wallet, flipping it open to reveal an official FBI identity card in the name of Jacqueline Lillard.
Paula Krom scanned the card intently and rather overtly checked Jolene's face against the photograph; she murmured in acceptance and then turned to Dale with an icy stare, the grey-green eyes boring into him.
'And you, Mr. Mallory, do you have an identity card?'
For a second, Dale was flustered; he had not prepared himself with a lie and he certainly did not carry supporting documentation for an alternative identity. He hesitantly reached into his coat for his rather nondescript embassy pass.
Jolene spoke quickly, eager to diffuse the situation if not to clarify it with the truth.
'Mr. Mallory is a liaison officer from our embassy in The Netherlands, based in The Hague.'
She gave a short self-deprecating laugh.
'He is here to ensure that I conform to our international operating procedures.'
She paused, sensing Paula Krom's reluctance.
'This is purely a routine visit and we just want to ask you a couple of questions regarding a case we are working on, it should take no more than half an hour of your time. We've come a long way to see you and there is some urgency to the matter -'
She let the sentence hang.
Paula Krom glanced at her watch and frowned irritably.
'Very well, please come in, I have many things to do but I will speak with you.'
She moved to one side and held out an arm, inviting them in and directing them to a wide arch that led off from the spacious hall entrance to a reception room furnished with what appeared to be original Louis XVI style furniture. Paula closed the front door and followed them in, perching herself at a slight angle on the edge of the overstuffed seat of a wide gilt-wood sofa, bidding her guests to sit down opposite on a couple of sumptuously cushioned marquis armchairs.
'
Also
, how can I help you?'
Jolene shuffled forward in her seat, conscious of the disparity between her heavy leather boots and sheepskin flying jacket and the refinement represented by the antique furniture surrounding her.
'Frau Krom, I need to ask you some questions about your great-grandmother, Hanna Paulus.'
Paula visibly jerked back in confusion at the question.
'Hanna? She is dead for many years ago now. Why would you want to know about Hanna?'
Jolene shuffled again and smiled.
'We're investigating a link between an organisation that your great-grandmother was involved in and some events that are currently taking place. It would be useful if -'
'I know what you want!' Paula exclaimed, holding up a hand to stop Jolene in mid sentence.
'Hanna was not a Nazi and I will not speak of such things, I will not have the name of my great-grandmother, I don't know -
durch den Dreck ziehen
!'
'No, no, not at all, we have absolutely no intention of dragging Hanna's name through the mud,' Jolene protested as she glanced at Dale to emphasise the translation, 'we just want to know a few facts, that is all.'
'What can you want to know? Hanna was a good woman and she tried to help Germany, she was never a Nazi! She loved her country and was not political. If you believe something else then you must leave now! You Americans, you have no understanding of the war time in Europe, you must go!
Jetzt
!'
Paula was practically trembling with rage from her short outburst but Jolene remained seated and Dale could only muster a somewhat bemused expression as he glanced between the two women.
'Frau Krom, Paula, I know that Hanna never supported the Nazi movement, I know that she worked with a youth group, helping young women in very difficult circumstances.'
'
Ja
,' Paula nodded, 'you are correct, Hanna was helping many girls and young women, she looked after them for many years in the
Vril-Gesellschaft Schwesternschaften
-
was beduetet?
-'
'Vril Society Sisterhood,' Jolene offered.
'
Genau
- The Vril Society Sisterhood! Hanna was a good woman,
die Oberschwester
, she looked after many girls, led them in physical training and schooled them. She also had to learn many new things to become a teacher, she treated her girls like daughters and they had not anybody.'
Dale looked at Jolene and back to Paula.
'Sorry, do you mean that the girls were all orphans?'
'Yes, that is just so, all of her girls in the Sisterhood was
kriegsgeschädigte Kinder und Waisen
, their mothers and fathers had been dead in the First World War, so many children with not anybody to look after them. The Vril Society Sisterhood provided a home for some of them, it took care of them and Hanna was a mother to them, she was only twenty-six years old when she started to look after them, right through to the end of the war.'
Jolene nodded at the implicit suggestion of the longevity of Hanna's employment.
'To the end of the war? So Hanna was involved with the Vril Society Sisterhood right through to 1945, how do you know that?'
'She told it to me,' Paula said matter of factly.