“As sure as shit,” Officer Hall responded. “Racial violence is running rampant in this city. Blacks hate the Orientals, whites hate the Irish, everyone hates the gays, and so on.”
“Then you have these white supremacy groups that influence kids minds. Put all this weird shit in their heads,” Officer Duncan shrugged sadly.
“It’s pretty bad, huh?”
“Why don’t you go get some sleep?” Duncan said.
The officers got into their squad car and drove off into the night.
Wayne ran his hands through his hair. He noticed a tiny amount of blood, sticky and cold, on the sleeve of his denim jacket. He touched a finger to it and looked at it closely.
Racial hate and violence-it never ends. Fifty years after the Nazis, twenty-five years after the civil rights movement in the South, nothing has changed. The cop was wrong about not being able to do anything about it.
CHAPTER TWO
Wayne sprinted back to Dr. Hoffmann’s house. The more he ran, the faster he wanted to run. His adrenalin was pumping. He wanted to tell Dr. Hoffmann that he had changed his mind before she did something foolish, such as try and do the “job” herself.
When he arrived at her house, Wayne rapped loudly on her front door until, a few seconds later, Dr. Hoffmann opened up the door.
“I’ll do it,” he proudly said as he tried to catch his breath. Dr. Hoffman stepped back to let him in.
“That is good news. What gave you a change of heart?”
“I thought about what you said — about doing what’s good for humanity. Maybe you’re right. If we have the means to alter something in history that brought so much pain and misery to so many people, then we should make use of it.”
He paused, thinking about the dead clerk. He hesitated before mentioning it to her.
“Great. Let’s go to my laboratory. I will explain all of the details to you there,” Dr. Hoffmann said zealously.
“You mean now? Go back tonight?”
“Yes. Tonight.”
“Oh, boy,” Wayne sighed. He looked toward the door and then back toward Dr. Hoffman.
“Can’t we wait a few days? Or weeks? I mean, what’s the hurry?”
Dr. Hoffmann stood firm. “It is too important for it to be delayed. Tonight we must do it.”
They drove in Dr. Hoffmann’s old, messy Chevrolet Nova to the NYU campus. They walked into the science laboratory building and past the main library. Wayne hoped that he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew. He didn’t want any rumors spreading about him and his professor.
How would he explain to friends what he was doing with Dr. Hoffmann late at night in her lab? Dr. Hoffmann would not discuss anything about what they were going to do until they were in the privacy of her lab.
Once they were in her lab, Dr. Hoffmann started talking with a great fervor about what Wayne was to do. “I am sending you back in time to January 30th, 1933. On that day, Adolf Hitler became the Chancellor of Germany. That night, a reception was held for him by his top officials in the Reich Chancellery.”
“Why then?” Wayne wanted to know. “Why not to when Hitler was in high school or some other time before he was famous?”
“Because on that night of January 30th, I can pinpoint precisely the Nazi leader’s location and also have an effective way for you to carry out our plan.”
“Would you mind filling me in on that plan?”
Dr. Hoffmann picked up a thick book entitled “Hitler’s Reign” off of her desk and opened it up to a photograph that took up almost a full page. She pointed the photograph out to Wayne. “This picture was taken on that night of January 30th, 1933.”
It was a black and white picture that showed Hitler standing at a podium holding up a large ornamental silver cup. In small, but still legible lettering, on the front of the cup was an inscription that read “DE FÜHRER”. At Hitler’s side stood his secretary and deputy, Rudolf Hess; SS-leader and chief executioner, Heinrich Himmler; and the commander in chief of the Air Force and Hitler’s second in command, Hermann Wilhelm Göring.
“It’s a bunch of Nazis all right,” Wayne replied.
“Adolf Hitler will toast his supporters and drink champagne from the silver mug which has the words “De Fuhrer” inscribed on it. All you have to do is find that mug before he drinks from it.”
Dr. Hoffmann picked up a vial filled with a clear liquid, “Once you locate that silver cup, make sure that this gets into his champagne. This will stop his heart. With the primitive medical methods available then, no one will be able to revive him. To everyone present, it will appear that their leader had a heart attack. It will probably be attributed to the excitement of the day’s events.”
“What if I can’t get my hands on that cup? I mean, is there a backup plan at least?” Wayne fidgeted. “I think we should wait and really plan this out.”
“The method to achieve our goal that I have elucidated for you is the only feasible one. Believe me, Wayne, if I didn’t think that this project would be safe for you to accomplish and exit unharmed, I would in no way send you into a dangerous situation. As I have said, I have been plotting this for many years.”
Wayne still had a question or two. “Won’t I stick out like a sore thumb?” he asked.
“I have thought about that.” Dr. Hoffmann went to a cabinet and removed from it some clothes that were clearly from a different era. “You will be dressed as a waiter. That will enable you to get close to the silver cup without arousing suspicion. These are clothes that match what the waiters were wearing that night. Put them on. I’ll start getting things ready.”
Dr. Hoffmann turned away from Wayne and started to type on the computer keyboard. Wayne got changed.
“Well, she does seem to be prepared,” Wayne mumbled.
Wayne put on the black and white dress clothes. The slacks were uncomfortably stiff and the shoes were too tight, but Wayne didn’t complain. He wouldn’t be wearing them long.
Dr. Hoffmann stopped typing. “It’s time. Enter the machine,” she said.
Wayne clambered inside. “I don’t know what’s harder to believe — that you have actually invented a time machine or that I’m actually about to go through with this.”
Dr. Hoffmann adjusted several knobs. “I’m sending you back so that you will have enough time to locate the silver cup before Hitler drinks from it. Remember, just do what you are supposed to. Try not to talk to or socialize with anyone.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Wayne said. “What would I say to a Nazi anyway? How about breaking matzo with my family at our Seder?”
Dr. Hoffmann pulled down a lever on the time machine, making it come alive with a humming sound. “Any final questions?”
“For the moment, no,” he replied. “But I’m sure a few hundred will soon pop into my mind.”
“And, Wayne, most of all, good luck. And thank you,” Dr. Hoffmann gratefully said.
The humming from the time machine got louder. Smoke gushed out from the bottom of the machine.
Wayne disappeared.
On the evening of January 30, 1933, the Reich Chancellery in Berlin was crowded with guests. Some of those guests were members of Germany’s upper class who had supported Hitler financially and in other ways during his rise to power. One such man, present on this night, was Fritz Thyssen. Thyssen, the head of the German steel trust, the United Steel Works, and an extremely wealthy man, had contributed sizable sums to the National Socialist party and was a loyal follower of Hitler. Also present are top ranking Nazi party members and a large number of Hitler’s personal henchmen, the much-feared Sicherhietsdienst who are dressed in Nazi party uniforms with the swastika emblazoned on armbands.