Otto thought for a moment. “Let’s see, that was… March ’39 when she passed on…” Otto’s eyes shifted to Lt. Schiller on the other side of the room with his arms folded. “…yes, the station could not let me off then. They were testing a new transmission system, frequency modulation, that was about to be installed.” Otto returned to facing Lt. Kriederman, “I was the only one who was familiar with working on it.”
“This was at North Deutsche Radio One, correct?”
Yes, that is correct.”
“You have an important job there.”
“Each one of our jobs is important for the Reich.” Otto surprised even himself with his answer. Far from being a party member, it sounded like something any diehard Nazi would say. The statement appeared to have a positive result; both Lt. Schiller and Lt. Kriederman lessened their frowns – a little.
“How right you are Herr Huber. Each of our jobs are important for the Reich, yours to inform the people and ours to protect the people.”
Otto relaxed a little thinking they were buying his story.
“Your girl friend has a very important job as well, doesn’t she?”
“I believe so.”
“So you know where she works?”
“She told me she works at the Ministry of Propaganda.” Otto of course knew Bettina worked directly for Minister Goebbels, but Bettina told him long ago she was only allowed to say she worked for the ministry. It was one of the ministry’s strictest rules. She was never to say she worked for Goebbels exclusively. Otto had always respected her request – except to London.
“I see.” Kriederman sounded unconvinced and glanced over to Lt. Schiller who gave the look he was not satisfied with Otto’s answer either.
“Herr Huber, what do you know about the Jewish blood in your girlfriend?”
“I beg your pardon?” Otto tried to act totally surprised with the info he had only recently discovered. “Bettina? Jewish? I can’t believe that!”
“Are you a Jew lover, Otto?” Lt. Schiller spoke from across the room, his voice almost cordial, friendly.
“No, of course not.”
“Then, why do you hate Jews?”
The question required a different kind of lie than simply answering “yes” or “no” in an opposite way. Otto had to create hate that did not exist within him. As he began his answer, he wondered if the lie would be convincing enough. “Because they are an enemy of the Reich. The reason Germany was on her knees economically and spiritually is because of the Jews, until our Führer saved us.”
This particular party line was one that any German could say in their sleep, since this was the theme that Goebbels has broadcast for years over the radio.
Both Gestapo men smiled. Otto thought he had convinced them.
“Otto, do you love Frauline Meyer?”
“Yes, of course.” Otto declared without hesitation.
“Would you love her if she were a Jew?”
A lump immediately formed in Otto’s throat. His mind knew he had to answer with a lie, but his heart made him hesitate, as if to rebel against all the twisting of the truth that had previously occurred. The hesitation, however, was giving him away. He had to say something quick. “I… uh…” Nothing was coming to his mind.
Kriederman’s face moved to within 10 centimeters from Otto’s nose. “Would – you – love – her – if – she – were – a – Jew?” He repeated slowly.
Otto’s mind finally regained control over his heart. “No!” He shouted, to make up for the hesitation.
Both Lieutenants smiled again. Kriederman took a folder off the desk, opened it and began reading, “Bettina Meyer, Lutheran, daughter of Ursula Meyer, born Ursula Henkys, Lutheran, daughter of Daniela Henkys, born Daniela Bogdanowicz. Both Lieutenants acted greatly pained by reading a Jewish last name.
“Otto, my good Otto, do you know what happens to a boy, even a good German boy like you, when they are found sleeping with a Jew?” Schiller said the word ‘sleeping’ with a tone of disgust.
Otto did not answer.
Kriederman then picked up the phone and said one word: “Ready.”
“I wish I could help you, Otto, you seem like a nice boy, a good German boy. It’s one thing to innocently fall in love with a Jewish slut, but it’s quite another to be in contact with the British – that’s treason.”
Otto’s worst fear, only a few moments ago forgotten, now resurfaced as two guards entered the room and grabbed him.
“Goodbye Otto.”
Dragged out of the room, Otto shouted, “What’s going on here?” The guards and both Gestapo lieutenants ignored him. Downstairs in the basement, the guards threw Otto in a cell. Looking around Otto saw there were nine other cells, but only one other occupant, who sat silently in the cell next to him. Neither man spoke to one another out of fear. Had they spoke, Otto might have found out the man next to him was Captain Best Payne. Without knowing it, in one of the odd ironic twists history so often holds, Otto was placed in a cell right next to the man the British had wanted him to rescue.
This was the third time DeWohl attended a meeting with his Counter Dark Fire Group and the first time Lord Everton was not present. The other astrologers and military men did not mention his absence, since despite his accurate prognosis, they thought Everton was crazy.
DeWohl thought the meeting was boring and unproductive without the Lord who spoke in riddles. While each man read his report and gave his predictions on what they thought Krafft might be advising Hitler, DeWohl gazed out the window to see the drizzle and city lights outline the thick clouds on the London skyline. The barrage balloons scattered around the city could be clearly seen. DeWohl wondered if Berlin had barrage balloons, or if the Germans would ever need them.
A ringing sound stopped the current speaker and awoke DeWohl from his daydream.
“Lord Everton is here.” Admiral Payne said while putting down the phone.
A few moments later Everton walked into the room, but looked at no one. He circled the table several times while mumbling to himself. Finally he stopped in front of Admiral Payne’s huge wall map right and stood just to the east of the east coast of Africa and put his hand straight up which covered Saudi Arabia, and his finger pointed to the Caucasus Mountains. “The tide is beginning to shift, gentlemen!” He finally blurted out. “We won’t see it for a while, but it is going to get worse for him now!” Everton recently began referring to Hitler as ‘him’.
“The momentum is slowing down for him… in Russia?” Jenkins wondered out loud, not wishing to appear that he was speaking to Lord Everton directly.
“Yes, yes! Russia, the whole of Russia and soon will turn against him on every ocean. He’s making his biggest mistake now, right now!”
“Mistake?” DeWohl asked directly to Everton. “Where? How?”
“Here!” Everton tapped on the Caucasus. “Right here. He is changing his mind! He won’t go after the heart of Russia.” Everton pointed at Moscow. “Oil. He’s going after the oil. Not Stalin the man. He’s going after Stalin the place, to get his oil.”
Outside of Admiral Payne and DeWohl, who grasped the idea that Hitler had changed his objective in midstream, going after the oil fields in the Caucasus instead of Stalin and his central government in Moscow, no one fully understood the comments of Lord Everton. Not until a month later would his comments make sense when Germany’s Sixth Army and Fourth Panzer Army would clash with the Soviet Armies in Stalingrad.