"True." Kuhlenthal went back into deep thought, and after a moment he said, "A commander of the British army is having a hard time finding a simple can of sardines? Are things so bad in Britain that even a general can't have his treat?"
"Sardines are the least of Britain's problems," Sera said. "Besides, they smell bad anyway."
"What smells?" Kuhlenthal asked. "The sardines or the British?"
Riq and Sera laughed, but not really. The situation was far too dangerous and the joke just wasn't that funny.
Kuhlenthal quickly grew serious again. "I wouldn't dare to share this secret with anyone else -- most of the Nazis here would be very glad to see me fail and take my place -- but I need these papers to be real. It has been a long time since I have sent anything useful to Hitler. He is becoming . . . impatient with me."
That was their chance, Sera realized. Kuhlenthal would believe the letters simply because he wanted so badly for them to be real. For the sake of his career, and maybe his life, he needed them to be real.
Which led her to a worse idea. For a long time, Sera had believed that if they fixed history and made everything okay, that her family would be there when she came home, happy and healthy and alive. Even with Tilda's recent accusations, Sera realized she still expected a happy reunion at the end of all this. But maybe her visions of a happy ending weren't any more real than Major Martin's papers. Maybe she only believed it would come true because she wanted so desperately for it to come true.
Suddenly, Kuhlenthal clapped his hands together and stood up, then began gathering the photos. "I must catch a flight back to Germany at once," he said. "I will deliver these to the Fuhrer myself."
"What are you going to tell him?" Riq asked.
"My report will be as balanced as I can make it," Kuhlenthal answered. "But if I am to convince the Fuhrer that the Allies are invading Greece, I will need to get his most trusted man on my side: Colonel Von Roenne."
THEY HAD done as much as they possibly could, and with that, Sera was more than happy to get herself and Riq out of there. Kuhlenthal spooked her. He wasn't SQ, but that didn't make him any less dangerous. As far as she was concerned, she and Riq had done everything they could to convince him to believe Mincemeat Man. The rest was up to Dak.
"I wish to pay you for your services," Kuhlenthal said. "Whatever Clauss gave you, I will give you the same."
Sera started to tell him no thanks, but Riq quickly accepted, then looked at Sera as if to remind her that Kuhlenthal would trust them more if he could pay them. Besides, they needed some money if they were going to eat in the next few days.
Eating was a fine idea, but so was being alive, and Sera wasn't entirely sure that was Kuhlenthal's plan.
Kuhlenthal escorted Riq and Sera outside, leading them away from the building and down a steep hill where it was dark and they were alone. Sera didn't like the feel of this, not at all, but how could she warn Riq of her concerns without alerting Kuhlenthal?
"I know there are many spies like me." Kuhlenthal's dark expression was lit by the bright moon overhead. "And then there are double agents, who pretend to be on my side, but work for the enemy."
"We helped you," Sera said.
"And I told you, I don't need the help of a young girl." He turned and pulled some money from his pocket, then held it out to them. "This will pay for your silence, I think."
Sera stood in place, still suspicious, but Riq thanked the major and stepped forward to accept the money. When he reached out his hand, Sera caught a glint of metal in the moonlight. She cried, "Riq, he has a knife!"
Riq swerved around, but Kuhlenthal grabbed his arm and yanked Riq toward him. Sera noticed a fallen tree branch near her feet. She picked it up and swung it at Kuhlenthal like she was batting for a home run.
She connected with a satisfying crack, and the branch broke in two.
Riq fell forward onto the ground, clutching at his side, and Kuhlenthal rolled backward down the steep hill. Down where Sera figured she and Riq were supposed to have rolled instead, probably not to have been found for days.
"C'mon," Sera yelled, starting to run up the hill.
But Riq, still on his knees, was gathering up the money that had scattered when Kuhlenthal had fallen. "We'll need this!"
He was right about that, and Sera hurried back to help him grab what they could before Kuhlenthal made it up the hillside again. They heard his growls somewhere below them, and set off as quickly as they could run.
Neither of them stopped until they were far away from Kuhlenthal, the Ministry building, and anyone who even looked like a spy.
Only then did Riq sink against a shop wall, still holding his side. "He cut me."
"What?" Sera went to her knees beside him. His shirt had a small slice in it, but only a thin trickle of blood was showing.
"How bad is it?" Riq asked.
"Pretty awful," Sera said, hiding her smile. "You'll need surgery, but since we can't trust the doctors here, I'll have to do it myself. Do you happen to have a needle and thread?"
"Oh, no you don't!" Riq practically leapt to his feet and twisted around to inspect the damage for himself. Then he looked up. "Yeah, that was funny. Now I can see why you and Dak get along."
"Sorry," Sera said, laughing now. "Does it hurt?"
"Yeah," Riq said. "But I guess it's not as bad as I thought. Let's get out of here."
"But to where?" Sera asked. "It's after curfew, so we shouldn't be out."
She followed after Riq as he started walking. "We passed a quiet alley a little ways back," he said. "It's a warm night and the alley should give us some protection in case Kuhlenthal goes poking around. We'll take shifts staying awake tonight and figure out what to do next after we've had some sleep."
They didn't get much sleep, but the following morning, Sera and Riq each bought a warm, sugary churro and talked over what they should do next.
"We've done as much as we can," Riq said. "Kuhlenthal will take the papers to Germany and the rest will be up to Dak."
"If Dak even stuck around," Sera said worriedly. Riq had told her about Tilda's orders to have the SQ in Berlin find him, which had put a knot in her stomach that wouldn't go away. "I think we need to go to Germany," she added. "We have to see this through, and besides, we have to find Dak."
Riq nodded, but Sera saw the doubt in his eyes. "Kuhlenthal mentioned that he had to get a flight into Germany. It's probably on a military plane, so we can't follow that way."
"I know," Sera said. "But we have to get the Infinity Ring from the train station anyway. We'll use the money from Kuhlenthal to catch the next train out of here, so we probably won't be too far behind him."
"If Dak is still okay, our going to Germany might make things worse for him," Riq warned.
"I know." Sera drew in a breath. "If he's undercover, we could expose him. But we're not warping out of here without Dak. We have to take the risk."
They took a taxi to the train station, always with one eye on the cars around them to be sure they weren't followed. Once they arrived, Sera led Riq to some lockers.
"I knew I couldn't bring the Infinity Ring anywhere near that park," she explained. "It was too dangerous to just hide it under a bush or something, and if I had it on me, Tilda would've known it wasn't in that suitcase."
"But these lockers don't look all that secure," Riq said. "Anyone with a basic knowledge of lock picking could get inside one."
"Maybe," Sera said. "But nobody other than us knows the Infinity Ring's bag is here, so they'd have no reason to break in."
She inserted a key into the lock and opened the door. The Infinity Ring's bag was there, exactly as she had left it.
But everything wasn't exactly as it had been. Just as a spy would, Sera had plucked a hair from her head and laid it over the top of the satchel. If someone wanted to open the satchel, they'd have to move the hair to do so. And to Sera's dismay, she noticed now that the strand of hair was under the satchel. Had someone else been inside this locker?
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Sera lunged for the bag and pulled it open, revealing the Infinity Ring -- safe and sound.
"What's wrong?" Riq asked.
"Nothing," Sera said quickly. But she wondered: What if Tilda had somehow known the Infinity Ring was in here? Was it possible she had broken in and used it?
Sera sighed. She hated to admit it, but it was possible. However, it was also unlikely. If Tilda or anyone else had gone to so much trouble to steal the Ring, why bother returning it? Maybe someone had broken into the locker for valuables, and assumed the Ring was a worthless toy.
"C'mon," Sera said, lifting the satchel and returning it to her belt, "we've got a train to catch."
Minutes later as their train rolled out of the station, Riq leaned over to Sera and said, "It won't be as easy as you think to waltz into Germany. Are you sure it's worth all this trouble to get Dak?"
Sera smiled at his joke, but the knot in her stomach returned again. If Dak was . . . If the SQ had already gotten to Dak, then everything they had done so far would have been a waste of time.
DAK WASN'T sure how long he stayed hidden in that closet. He knew when Anton and Cleo left Von Roenne's office because they walked past, and Anton muttered something about "Gotta find that kid today." And Cleo then said something about waiting for him to show up near the kitchen.
Words like that made it a lot easier to stay right where he was. And except for the fact that he was getting tired of standing, it wasn't the worst place. In the darkness, he started counting backward from 1943, listing off major world events from each year, like any ordinary history genius might do for fun. He got briefly stuck on 1938, until he remembered a radio show called "War of the Worlds" that had been performed to sound like a news alert about an alien invasion. Even though there were several announcements during the broadcast about it only being a performance, it set the entire country into a panic for hours. People packed up and left their homes, fired guns into the air to warn away the aliens, and prepared themselves for the end of the world.
Dak frowned at that. There was certainly no alien attack, but the end of the world was coming if he didn't gather up some courage and leave this closet.
He slowly opened the closet door and looked both ways before sneaking out. It was late and most people had gone home. But in Von Roenne's office, Dak could hear the clatter of a typewriter.
He balled up his fists, took a deep breath, and then knocked on Von Roenne's door.
"Come in." As usual, Von Roenne's voice was terse, but not unkind.
When Dak entered, Von Roenne looked up, arched an eyebrow when he recognized Dak, then swiveled his chair away from his typewriter and clasped his hands.
"You again?" Von Roenne seemed curious, although Dak wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "What do you want?"
"A few days ago, you said I owe you a favor. I want to repay you now. I can help here in your office, with any jobs you need."
Von Roenne stared at him a moment, then pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "Please have a seat. What is your name?"
"Dak."
"An unusual name. Are you German?"
"There's German blood on my mother's side." However, Dak failed to mention that his great-grandfather was born near London, and in fact, was serving in the British navy at this time. He figured Von Roenne didn't need that much of his family background.
"I'm told a housekeeper brought you here to help in the kitchen."
"Yes, sir."
Von Roenne leaned in closer. "But I suspect there's more to you than that. We both know about the man and woman in these headquarters who seem to have nothing better to do than look for you. I suspect if you're caught, our housekeeper will need another kitchen boy. Why is that? Did you steal something from them?"
"No, sir."
"Did you cause them any trouble?"
"No, sir." It was actually just the opposite.
Von Roenne frowned at him. "Then are you here as a spy?"
Despite trying to hide any reaction, Dak was taken aback by the question and his eyes widened. He tried to speak, but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and his tongue felt roughly the size of Everest.
Von Roenne leaned back. "Ah, so the Allies are using children now to spy on us. Is that because they have so much trust in you, or so little fear of us?"
"The Allies have no idea I'm here. They don't know anything about me."
"Then why are you here?" Impatient for an answer, Von Roenne said, "You'll talk to me, or I'll turn you over to that pair who are probably searching this building for you right now."
"I - I'm not . . . I just --" Which was as far as Dak got before the cotton mouth started up again.
Obviously, he couldn't tell one of Hitler's most trusted advisers that he was here from the future. The idea of what Hitler could do if he got control of time travel was terrifying.
Nor could he tell Von Roenne about Mincemeat Man. The last thing he needed was for the collapse of the Allies in World War II to be blamed on him. He would be in the history books one day -- Dak was sure of that -- but not for being the one to destroy the free world. No way.
But he was having trouble coming up with any reason why he might be here otherwise. The obvious thought was to convince Von Roenne that he wanted to join up with the Nazis, that he believed in their cause and wanted to help, even if he was too young to be a soldier.
But there was no way Dak would tell a lie like that. Even to save the mission or to save his own life, Dak would never let those words come out of his mouth. Von Roenne seemed like a decent enough person. But he was fighting for the wrong side, and taking orders from truly evil men.
The Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler, was responsible for millions of deaths on the battlefield, both from those fighting for him and against him. Beyond that, before the war ended, he would be responsible for the deaths of over six million Jewish people. Innocent families who would be rounded up, held in concentration camps, and eventually killed for no crime other than who they were by faith and by heritage.
Thinking of them, Dak was surer than ever that Mincemeat Man had to succeed. It wouldn't save all those lives, but at least the Allies would win in the end, and those lost lives could forever serve as a reminder of how evil must never be allowed to spread.
"All right, if you won't talk, then you'll come with me." Von Roenne stood and walked from behind his desk over to Dak.
"You can't give me to Anton and Cleo," Dak said. "They'll kill me if you do."
Von Roenne placed his hands on his hips. "Then why --"
He was interrupted by another knock on his door. Dak looked all around for any way he might escape if it was Anton and Cleo returning. He could dive out Von Roenne's window, which always looked pretty cool in action movies. But in real life, he'd never do that. The glass would get him all cut up, and he'd probably break a leg landing on the cement below. If it were them, his only choice would be to run and hope like crazy to be fast enough that they couldn't grab him.
Dak pressed his toes against the ground, ready to push off and run.
Von Roenne invited whoever had knocked to enter, but rather than the two Time Wardens, it was a group of Nazi soldiers who entered instead. Oh, good, Dak thought. More Nazis.
"The Fuhrer to see Colonel Von Roenne," one of the soldiers announced.
Dak forgot anything he had ever known about running and instead backed up behind Von Roenne. Now entering the room was none other than Adolf Hitler.
COLONEL VON Roenne stood at attention and raised his right arm straight in front of him. "Heil, mein Fuhrer!" He nudged at Dak to do the same, but Dak could not, would not, do it.
Everything Dak had ever read about Adolf Hitler flooded his mind. How he'd wanted to be an artist when he was young, but failed. How he fought for Germany in the First World War and felt betrayed when his leaders surrendered. The months he spent in prison for trying to overthrow the government, and then afterward, how he built up his Nazi party to take over the government in a legal w
ay. Once he had control, he took over Austria without firing a single shot. But when he invaded Poland, the Second World War began.
Hitler was of average height and build, but people may not have noticed since their attention likely went straight to his face. His thin brown hair was parted at the side and combed neatly across his forehead, and he had a small square mustache above his lip. His eyes were cold and stern, and seemed to bore through anything he stared at.
Luckily, Hitler gave Dak all the notice that he'd give a chair in the room. His eyes flicked over Dak and settled on Von Roenne.
"Have the papers arrived yet?" Hitler asked.
"No, mein Fuhrer. But I'm waiting here in case Major Kuhlenthal arrives late tonight. We only know that the papers indicate the Allies will attack Greece and not Sicily."
"It sounds too easy," Hitler said. "That a dead British officer should wash up on the shores of Spain with the most top secret of plans?"
"I also have my suspicions," Von Roenne said. "But until we have those papers, we cannot know exactly what the plans are, or if they are real."
"I'm told that Captain Clauss got very close to the body, and that it is certain to have drowned off the coast of Spain."
"He was there for the examination?" Von Roenne asked.
"No, but he had an informant who was there, a Spanish girl who assisted the doctor. Afterward, she told him everything she had seen."
Dak smiled to himself. Sera had a primarily Mayan heritage, not Spanish, but it must have been her at the autopsy. Sometimes she was so cool!
Von Roenne sighed. "Then it sounds hopeful. But even if the papers are an Allied trick, this is still very good news for us. If they are real, then our army must move to Greece. The Allies will be surprised to see us there. It will be an easy win for Germany."
Hitler cocked an eyebrow. "And if the plans are fake?"
"Then I will know." Von Roenne spoke so confidently that Dak became worried. He added, "If the plans are fake, then it will be obvious that the Allies are going to Sicily. Our forces are so strong there, the Allies won't have a chance. Either way, the coming battle will seal Germany as an eventual winner in this war."
Hitler nodded without smiling, and it occurred to Dak that he had rarely seen any photo of the man smiling. He could smile, Dak assumed. The muscles worked the same as for anyone else, but he chose not to. He wanted to be seen as fierce, bold, and someone to fear. A wolf.