“Could be part of a wheel, or a rocket…” said Lehmann. “Did you know we made the first rockets? We made the first moon landing possible.”
Olivia said she was aware. Lehman put the object down and shook his thick head. “I’m sorry, I can’t help with these objects. When we left the laboratories in '45, many just picked stuff for keepsakes.”
“Do you have anything from that time?”
Lehmann pointed to a painting on the wall behind Olivia. She turned to look at it. It was framed in glass but the painting was obviously very old. It was the picture of a girl on a bombed street. There was a crumbling church behind her, the spires of which still stood, pointing at a blue sky. The girl wore a black bodice and a white scarf.
Lehmann was lost in thought when she turned back. His eyes had misted.
“I took that off the wall in Von Braun’s office. I had been there to make a report. Then he had gotten a call from Berlin and he practically stumbled over me as he left in a hurry. I heard the siren then. The Allied forces were coming. The planes were dropping bombs in the East and soon, Peenemunde would be flattened. I ripped the painting off the wall and folded it into the pocket of my overalls.”
A film of sweat was on his forehead when he finished talking.
Olivia’s cellphone started ringing.
“Hello.” She listened and as she did her countenance fell. “Shit. H…h…how the hell did that happen!?” she stammered.
She concluded the call by saying, “I’ll be on my way back as soon as I can.”
Olivia was sweating even though the house was rather cool. She gathered the objects into the box and stowed it. She finished her coffee, mostly out of respect for the hospitality.
“The offer of the vodka is still open,” Lehmann said, rising when Olivia did.
“Oh I’ll pass.” Olivia smiled. “I appreciate your time.”
“I’m glad I could help. And I hope that call bodes well,” Lehmann probed but Olivia ignored him.
The aroma of barbecue wafted through the back door when Lehmann’s daughter-in-law came in. The laughter of the kids followed her too.
Olivia waved her goodbye. Her bright eyes looked from Lehmann to Olivia.
Olivia wanted to ask about her husband, Lehmann’s son, but she only looked at the picture of the couple on the desk.
“You have a beautiful home,” she said.
The lady smiled genuinely. “I thank you very much.”
Olivia left shortly after.
A curtain moved up in the attic. A face appeared there. It was Gary Lehmann and attached to the side of his face was a telephone. He watched as Olivia flagged a taxi.
“She’s with the box, yes…and the documents…yes.”
He put the telephone in its cradle gently and looked out the window again. He stood there and stared at the taxi as it rolled down the lane, his eyes the color of metal.
She had purchased a return ticket so she was back in the air again within the hour. But Olivia was annoyed.
All the ways that the investigation could be dangerous was now becoming clearer to her. The fact that her life could be in jeopardy made her shiver. And she was so vulnerable. On the plane Olivia checked the faces for someone that might strike her as sinister.
Professor Peter Williams had called to tell her the copies of documents he had made had been stolen from his office.
People got blown out of the sky sometimes. She supposed that this investigation was going to hurt someone somewhere. If they could kill an old scientist, who seemed harmless, then they could do more to her.
Olivia was a threat. This thought both comforted and frightened her.
She kept her bag close to her body. She checked to see that the box was still inside it every time. The guy who sat beside her looked frayed. He wore earbuds and read from a paperback novel. The skin of his fingers looked tight and pulled over his knuckles. He wore what looked like army clothes. Wispy brown hair covered much of his face.
On the other side there sat a passive-faced man, clean-shaven, and too neat. He wore a white t-shirt and dark chinos trousers. He stayed very still.
He looks like an assassin, thought Olivia.
She started praying.
Tom Garcia was waiting at the airport by her car. He had been dropped off by Betty who had gone to the gyno again.
“Are you two trying to have a baby?” she asked in irritation.
“Yes, I need progeny,” Tom replied as he got behind the wheel. “Peter Williams is waiting in my office.”
She glanced at him.
“You met the professor.”
They joined the moving traffic of holiday people. Almost all the vehicles in front of them had a boat or a surfboard strapped to its top.
“What do you think of him?” Olivia asked.
“You wanna know if he would make a good mate—?”
“No, Tom, come off it,” she interrupted. “Do you think he could be trusted?”
Tom laughed. He made a left turn onto Kent Street. It was a longer cut, but better than being in the traffic in front of them. Olivia agreed.
“He was worked up about something, wouldn’t say when I asked.”
Olivia sat deeper in her seat. “He lost the documents.”
Tom glanced at her sideways, open-mouthed. Perhaps he realized too what the enormity of the whole thing was. She told him what she had found in Texas. They drove the rest of the way in silence.
11
Peter Williams was waiting when they arrived at Tom’s office.
His coffee was left untouched on Tom’s desk. He stood up when he saw Olivia. There was determination on his face, not fear. Olivia tried to imagine how this discovery should make her feel better.
“Please, sit, Professor.” Tom went around his desk.
Nothing had changed in the office. It had been a while since Olivia entered it. The nameplate that announced his title was still there on the black leather, his cache of files beside it. A black shelf on his right, the trashcan by his chair, and the flag by the window. The walls needed painting, though.
Olivia pushed a stack of papers on the table away so she could perch there. Tom looked at her disapprovingly. There was a chair against the wall. Olivia always complained of how it hurt her back.
Peter stared from Tom to Olivia.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Olivia shrugged. “Lehmann is in support; the documents are old German papers, authentic. He had never seen the objects before, though.”
Olivia recounted her discussion with Lehmann to the men. She left out the part about the painting on Lehmann’s wall though. Besides, it was his son's place, not Lehmann’s.
Peter nodded and reached for his cup of coffee. He tasted it, wrinkled his mouth, and put it back.
“Sorry, Tom makes the most horrible coffee.”
Tom raised his hand. “Not me, it’s what the city can afford.”
Peter ignored him.
“I’m convening a meeting with the faculty biggies tomorrow to get an approval for funds. I’d like for you to be on the expedition team, Olivia. We are on to something. I want to know what it is.”
Tom tapped the table. “Er, let’s not forget this is still a murder case.”
“Shush, Tom.” Olivia smiled. To Peter she said, “It's going to cost a fortune to get an expedition team into Antarctica. How are you going to convince them? We have just the documents and the words of two old men to go on—”
“Yes, but one of the old men you speak of was a scientist in Peenemunde, and he says the documents are not bogus,” Peter countered.
Silence followed.
There was a certain fear as well, felt mostly by Olivia and Peter Williams. The danger seemed to flow over Tom. Peter rose to go.