The New Adventures of the Eagle Page 14

  The espionage master had his hair tinted subtly blond, his skin dyed to give him the healthy “sunny tan’ of the West Cost that was so different from the New Yorker pale, and he had grown a pencil mustache to give him a “Mandrake” look that matched the real performer he was impersonating.

  “You look like a regular man of bronze,” Lefty said when he saw him the first time.

  “That name is taken,” the espionage master joked, “I’ll settle for Mr. Sternherz instead.”

  The government had quietly ‘detained’ the real Sternherz on a visa violation and mocked up a few old posters from different engagements that looked exactly like Shannon.

  “I’m as fully camouflaged and ready as I’ll ever be,” the espionage master said to his friend, “so I’m gonna grab a bite and then head out. I want to be in Chicago at least a day ahead of the train.”

  “I’ll get the cook to put on your favorite,” Lefty said, “after all… the condemned man should eat a hearty meal.”

  The Eagle threw a flattened top hat like a discus and hit the little boxer in the back of the head as he tried to run out the door and both men laughed, but both men also secretly hoped it was not a prophetic statement.

  ***

  The Eagle flew from Floyd Bennett Field in Brooklyn in a Government plane to Chicago, made his connections and road into Grand Central Station with the long distance passengers. He waited with his trunks under the big clock for a promised ‘guide’ from the camp.

  It was clear there were other performers there as well, some local and some who had come in from out of town. They were identifiable not just from their generally ‘theatrical’ manner, with all the women looking like showgirls and the men like chorus dancers, but by the fact that they were all models of Aryan perfection. It made the disguised Eagle feel slightly unclean to be among them.

  “I would have thought of them as ‘corn fed” in any other circumstances,” he thought, “ and that is the power of that little paperhanger and his ilk; to take the clean and pervert it to the obscene. To drain the innocence out of everything.”

  A thin blond fellow named Mueller showed up and went through the process of checking names like a bureaucrat. The man was dressed in civilian clothes, but had a decidedly military air about him as he hustled the group out to a waiting bus for the drive to the camp in Suffolk County on Long Island.

  The first sight of Camp Siegfried was a shock to the espionage master. He had known it was a paramilitary operation and had seen the newsreels of the Bund marching, but somehow seeing groups of uniformed men in jackboots marching on American soil was daunting.

  The bus rumbled down a dirt road past several score of uniformed Bund troopers and two dozen rustic buildings with various Nazi and Aryan banners displayed prominently everywhere. Right next to American flags.

  “Its exciting,” one of the showgirls beside Shannon on the bus said, “Aside from the show, its such a thrill to be part of something so important.”

  The espionage master looked at her and gave an enigmatic smile. “You really think they are going to make a difference?” he said, “Seems like a lot of dressing up for show, can they really be a political force?”

  “We’re proud to be seen as a beacon of liberty and purity,” Mueller called back from the driver’s seat, “But don’t think it is all for show; we are a very real force to be reckoned with.” He spoke with the calm conviction of a zealot so the Eagle knew he had to be careful not to show his usual smart Alec attitude; he had to blend in among the performers.

  “Well they sure look good!” The showgirl said.

  “I’ll say,” another girl said, “I go for a guy in uniform!” all the girls, as well as some of the guys laughed, and the undercover detective joined in to blend.

  The bus pulled up in front of a clapboard whitewashed building and the driver opened the door. “Everybody out,” Mueller called, “You’ll be staying in this building.”

  The bus passengers all filed out and stood around looking very much out of place in the sea of brown shirted men. No matter how blond the performers were they had a ‘free spirited’ look about them that set them apart.

  The Eagle took the opportunity to survey the grounds of the camp in the clear light of day in case he needed to make a quick escape later on. The compound was on the north shore of Long Island facing the Sound with a stretch of beach that was fenced in at both ends.

  There were two-dozen buildings that were all wooden structures up on pilings save for a three-story mansion on a slight knoll at the North end of the compound.

  All around Camp Siegfried a screen of scrub pines ran along a barbed wire fence, and the espionage master saw armed guards patrolling the perimeter.

  “I hope Lefty keeps his head down,” The Eagle thought.

  “I do not like performers,” a booming voice drew everyone’s attention to an impressive figure in a tailored uniform that rounded the corner of the building. “I am Commander Keller; I am in charge of Camp Siegfried. I do not like performers, but Herr Kuhn wants his guests entertained, so while you are here; you will obey my edicts.”

  The tall shaven headed man who looked the actors over as if they were so much cattle, had a broad coarse face, and small eyes that seemed to have no iris. His chest was broad and powerful, and he had meaty hands that spoke of a life at hard labor.

  “Don’t speak so harshly, Commander,” a tiny voice reprimanded him. Then from around the corner of the building came a small, almost delicate figure wearing a brown shirt and a military cap on a jaunty angle. “You’re frightening them.”

  The Commander made a disgusted sound and looked down at the little man at the bare edge of anger.

  “Johann’s right, Marcus,” A new arrival said. She was a stunning blonde Valkyrie of a woman as tall as the Commander, dressed in form fitting jodhpurs and a riding jacket. Her long blonde hair was braided into two long pigtails and wound up on either side of her head. “You will make them all quiver and quake with fear.” She walked up the line of the performers until she stood before The Eagle.

  The eyes of the two met and he found himself mesmerized by those icy blue eyes of hers. A smile ghosted across her perfect bow lips. “Perhaps you haven’t scared all of them,” she said.

  The Eagle raised a finger to touch his lips, kissed the finger, then extended it toward the Valkyrie. She and everyone else in the area looked at the extended finger. Suddenly he snapped his fingers, his hand moved faster than the eye could see. Next thing everyone knew he was holding a single white rose in his right hand.

  The woman made a startled sound, the Commander looked cross, and many in the group gasped. Johann laughed a high tittering laugh.

  “Oh, he’s not scared at all,” the little man said, “I think this is going to be a very interesting show!”

  Chapter Four

  The Power of the Reich

  “I do not like performers,” the Commander repeated to draw all eyes back to him. “But since I must put up with you on my base… you will abide by the rules of this camp: to wit, you will remain in your barracks until and unless you are on your way to or from your rehearsal studio or the mess hall.” He put his hands on his hips and stared down the entire cast with particular attention paid to staring into the Eagle’s blue eyes. “Is that understood?”

  Most of the cast were too intimidated to respond, but the espionage master could not help himself and replied, “Jawohl, Herr Kapitan.” with a little incline of his head.

  This made the officer glare at him harder.

  Eva stepped in to save the moment again with a wide smile. “Oh, Marcus you have given your warning; trust me, we shall keep our little lambs so busy that they will not be able to interrupt your training schedules. I promise.”

  The bald man turned stiffly and walked back the way he had come.

  “Well, my little lambs,” Johann said, clapping his hands, “We have a lot of work to do in a very short time so let’s get cracking!”

  The perfor
mers gathered their kit and took them into the building with the Eagle making several trips with all his props.

  On the last trip Eva stopped him with a hand on his arm as he carried a trunk. Her eyes were startling blue and her teeth exceptionally white. “I would not antagonize Commander Keller, Mister

  Sternherz; he is a very rigid man and not to be crossed.”

  “I’ve met his sort of hard nosed Marinette before,” the espionage master said, “They rile me beyond my prudence to resist pinking.”

  “Resist pinking this one,” she said, “Marcus is a dedicated National Socialist and very focused on the cause; if he feels you might disrupt that focus he can be very—uh-forceful.”

  The espionage master let a gentle smile flash across his lips. “I’ve been known to be forceful as well, but I do appreciate your advice, Miss-”

  “Eva Gruther,” she said.

  “Miss Gruther, I will make a point of not ‘riling’ myself out of a job.” He set down the case he was carrying in the corner room where he would be staying. He had, fortunately drawn a solo room because of his ‘need’ to maintain the secrecy of his act. “Speaking of the job,” he added, “what is your part in this little show?”

  “I am- along with Johann Struth whom you met-putting this on for our Fuhrer Herr Kuhn’s guests.”

  “Is that what you do round here all the time?” the spy fighter asked. The two of them were standing in the doorway to his room with the noise of the other performers settling in and beyond them, the sounds of the drilling men outside all suddenly fading.

  “I do many things in service of the cause,” she said with layers of meaning in her breathy tone, “and to those who serve it as well.”

  “Some causes are certainly more attractive than others,” the Eagle said in a hoarse whisper. “I’ll have to really look into this one.”

  The woman laughed and the master spy laughed with her.

  “We had better get to the rehearsal space,” she said, “If we are to serve that cause, eh?”

  “The show must go on,” he said, “but we must talk about causes at another time.”

  “Yes,” she said with many layers of meaning in her voice again, “We should.”

  The two walked out of the building with several of the other performers and then were ushered en masse across the parade grounds toward a second building that had been set up as a rehearsal space.

  All across the fields uniformed men were marching with hakenkreuz banners with frequent straight arm salutes in perfect robot-like precision.

  “Its hard to believe this is America,” the master spy thought. “Much less ninety minutes from Manhattan.”

  The little Johann functioned as director, cheerleader and choreographer for the show. Much of it had been ‘assembled’ in studios in New York and the little bundist set about reassembling it.

  The Eagle had relatively little to do with the main show, which consisted of several pairs of dancers, two singers, and a major dance piece at the end.

  “I’m assuming there’s no comic?” The Eagle asked the little man when there was a break.

  Johann gave a giggle and wiped his sweating brow with a towel. “Oh, you saw Marcus, didn’t you, dear boy? I’m afraid he’s typical of the more militant members of our group; almost no sense of humor.”

  “I gathered that,” the espionage master said, “but why is he letting this little party happen at all?”

  “Oh, our Ameri-fuhrer Herr Kuhn is a very smart man,” the director said with quiet conviction. “He knows the value of pageant and entertainment. The dignitaries will speak between our uplifting enticements and their message will be more readily planted in well watered soil, so to speak. He can not be here himself but his message will be heard.”

  The Eagle was surprised to see that Eva had a large part in the performance, singing two songs and working into the dance number for the finale.

  The Eagle was scheduled to do two sets of his magic show; a shorter one near the beginning of the program and a longer one just before the final dance routine.

  He did a skeletal version of his show, just enough to ‘mark’ his major tricks with a bit of his patter and enough of his technique to make sure no one could think him anything but a professional magician. He was pretty sure there were no prestidigitators in the federal employ and the Bund would have the same opinion.

  The performers ate at the end of the rest of the camps meal time.

  The attractive women dancers drew many longing glances from the marching men, and the espionage master almost chuckled at what he thought their presence was doing to the Commander’s carefully wrought discipline.

  The Eagle was pleasant to the other performers, working to not incite any undue notice, but absorbing information from all of them. Many had been chosen for predisposed sympathies to the National Socialist movement as well as their fluent German.

  The dinner finished, the performers were ‘escorted’ back to their sleeping quarters by several brown shirted Nazis who, despite their attempts to be cold and military, spent considerable time being ‘flirted at’ by the chorus girls.

  One of the brown shirt escorts, a broad-chested fellow with a lazy left eye, seemed to pay less attention to the new girls than to Eva. When the group was almost to the ‘dorm’ he found a chance to step up beside the blonde woman.

  “I must speak to you,” he said in a tense whisper.

  “I have nothing new to say to you, Fritz,” she said while keeping her eyes forward. “I said all I had to last night.”

  The Eagle, walking along side the pretty woman, did his best to not seem too interested in the conversation since he had no idea what dynamics were in the Bund camp.

  “You never answered me,” Fritz said insistently. “Why did you turn away from me? I am good stock; we are committed to the cause. Why will you not marry me?” He put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

  The girl spun around and slapped the rough faced Nazi in an eye blink.

  Fritz’s reaction was quick, slapping her back with enough force to knock her to her knees.

  The Eagle was lightening fast in his response as well. He sprang forward and shoved the brown shirt against the wall of the building.

  The thug was so shocked by someone opposing him that he took a moment to register what had occurred.

  The spy fighter helped the girl to her feet.

  “Are you okay?” he said.

  “I’m fine, she said, “He just doesn’t know when he has met his better.”

  This enraged the brown shirt and he pushed off the wall to attack again.

  The Eagle realized he could not fight the man with too much skill or his identity might be compromised. Yet he couldn’t let the thug pommel him.

  He dodged the first furious swing of the man but the man launched a second punch at the espionage master’s stomach.

  The Eagle moved like a matador slapping the fist aside and twisting out of its path with a graceful step. At the same time he produced a deck of cards that he flicked into the angry man’s face.

  Instinctively Fritz threw up has hands to protect against the cards. The Eagle used the opportunity to land an uppercut to the Nazi’s gut. It was hard enough that the blond was rendered unconscious.

  By now the other escort had raced in and was about to interfere but Eva stopped them.

  “No, Hanz,” she said, “He was protecting me.”

  Hanz looked down at the unconscious brown shirt and then at Eva. “He is an idiot, Frauline,” he said. “Please do not tell the commander, he is on report already for fighting.” He picked up the groggy man and the two moved off around the building.

  “A white knight?” Eva said with a leer to the Eagle.

  “I read too much Parsifal when I was young,” he said. He bent to pick up the cards. “One of my vices.”

  “I shall have to find out what the other vices are,” she said as she walked away. “Searching for them is one of my vices.”

  “Everyone r
est up,” Johann said to call attention back to himself. He waved a hand to their quarters. “We go up to the mansion tomorrow morning to put this puppy in its proper kennel!” He giggled as his own joke. “And please; stay in your rooms; the rules are very strict here; I wouldn’t want any of you to—uh- not be able to do the show.” He let his eyes connect with everyone’s and make it clear that, for once, he was not joking.

  He looked over at the espionage master and licked his lips. “And I would stay clear of Fritz, he was not recruited for his patience or intellect.”

  Johann and Eva left, each casting one last look at the crouching Eagle and neither being subtle in their expressions.

  The group went to their rooms with a subdued hubbub and enough genuine exhaustion that made even thinking about challenging the curfew a distant thought. Everyone except the espionage master of course.

  The Eagle went to bed but only to sleep for a few hours, waking near midnight.

  He came fully awake as was his custom with a full sense of where he was and what time it was. He dressed in dark clothes, and placed a chair against the door to the room, wedging it under the door handle. He then moved quickly to the window that faced the sea.

  Shannon slipped the screen out of the hooks that held it in place and let it hang so it would still look attached to casual observation. He launched himself out the window to land lightly in the sandy soil outside. He quickly rolled under the building just as a guard rounded the corner, rifle slung over his shoulder.

  The guard was slovenly in his attitude, obviously bored with his job he ambled past the barracks on his way to a warm cup of coffee at a guardhouse somewhere on the base.

  The Eagle watched him go and then raced across the field toward the oceanfront. He made it down to the beach unseen and then checked his watch.

  “Just midnight,” he thought, “ maybe Lefty couldn’t get past their security.” But he shouldn’t have doubted his friend, for in a few moments he heard a low hissing whistle off to his right.