 
The Girl Who Slept with a Nuke

A Kat Johnson Mystery

By William Wresch

Copyright 2020 William Wresch

Smashwords Edition

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It's a tiny county park in the farthest corner of Wisconsin. Two men are dead and a deputy sheriff is badly wounded. The dead men? One is a mystery. The other is Kat's former commanding officer in Germany – a man she hasn't seen in fifteen years. The FBI wants to talk to Kat. Kat Johnson has retired after twenty years with the military police and now operates a business in northern Wisconsin. Northwoods Experiences is a chance for women to gather and explore outdoor options from wildlife photography to fly fishing and bird watching.

But the FBI is more interested in Kat's former job and her time in Germany's Fulda Gap. Nuclear mines were used to bar the way of potential Soviet invaders. Now a YouTube series is tracing those mines. If Kat wants to find out why her old friend was killed, she needs to travel back to Fulda and investigate those YouTubers.
Chapter 1

Dave's Falls

The Pike River crosses the northeast corner of Wisconsin. It is popular for trout fishing, and is whitewater rated for those who wish to try it in a canoe or kayak.

But the river has a hazard. About halfway down its length, it takes a sharp turn to the left and drops over some massive boulders. In the late 1800s the Pike was used to float huge white pine logs down to Marinette. The logs had to go over the falls. The drop is only about ten or twelve feet, but to a young man named Dave, standing on top of a stuck log, using a peavey hook to break a log jam, the drop was fatal. His log broke free, took him over the falls and crushed him against the rocks. Logging crews stopped using the Pike after that.

Nearly a century later Marinette County established a small park at what was now called Dave's Falls. It has a parking area that holds maybe six cars, more than enough for the few people who stop. A short walk into the woods is the falls. Visitors can sit on the rocks and watch water fall ten feet. Adults may stop for ten or fifteen minutes before driving on. Teenagers stay longer. They arrive after dark and carry in a case of Miller Lite cans. The drinking age in Wisconsin is twenty one. The drinking age at Dave's Falls is sixteen or seventeen.

It was a night in mid-July, and a carload of boys had met up after working minimum wage jobs. Midnight was their time. One had an older brother who would buy them beer. They could sit along the rocks at Dave's Falls, drink beer, and tell jokes about their bosses and customers. After two beers, every adult was hilarious. Every boss had no idea how to run his business, and every customer was whiny and cheap. The mosquitos were annoying, but the beer tasted good.

About midway into their third beer they heard a splash. Something big hit a rock at the top of the falls, spun around, and then dropped. All four had cell phones handy and switched them to flashlight mode. A person had bobbed up at the base of the rocks, and was beginning to move with the current. Two of the boys immediately waded into the river and grabbed the man. They pulled him to shore and flipped him over onto his back. The other boys lit the scene with their phones. All four screamed when they flipped the man over and saw half his head was gone.

"Shit!" The two who had been in the water scrambled out. "Shit" seemed the word of the moment. All four said it multiple times as they stood back from the man. The two who had pulled the man from the water were now wiping their hands on their pants. They had touched a dead man. "Shit."

"Call someone." They all agreed that needed to happen. Each of them said it at least three times, until finally one of them hit 911.

"What's your emergency?" Ed was the youngest, but he was the first to press 911, so he did the talking. He stared at the other three, wondering how to describe their emergency. "We are at Dave's Falls. There is a dead guy here. We just pulled him from the river."

The lady on the phone told them to stay calm and wait for a deputy to arrive. Ed held the phone so all four could hear. When she asked about the man's condition, all four responded, creating a cacophony of "Shit, head, head gone, one eye, brains, shit," at which point one of the boys turned and vomited. She repeated they were to stay calm. They backed away from the dead man. Ed held the phone so tight his fingers turned white, but it felt like their lifeline. They decided maybe it would be better if they waited out by the road for the deputy to arrive.

Dave Kekkonen had the night shift – four to midnight. He was also on call after midnight, but calls only came once or twice a month. Usually he was in bed by twelve thirty. Marinette County is stretched out along the northeast corner of Wisconsin. Just over the Menominee River is the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The county seat – Marinette – is at the southern corner, along the banks of Green Bay. Amberg, and Dave's Falls, is pretty much at the opposite end. It was an hour's drive up from Marinette. But Dave worked the northern half of the county – the empty half – and lived on County K, just three miles from the falls. It was midnight, his shift was ending, and he was pulling into his drive when he got the call.

He backed around, switched on his "circus" lights and sped back down K. He called his wife as he drove. Last minute emergency, headed back to Dave's Falls, probable death, likely to be gone all night. Bonnie didn't interrupt with questions. She got dressed and walked to the kitchen. She would make him a sandwich and a thermos of coffee.

Dave pulled into the parking area and looked at the boys. A joke? He pulled his Chrysler 300 tight up against their bumper. If this was a joke, he would hold them there until their parents came for them.

Dave was mid-forties. He had two boys about the same age as these kids. He thought he recognized one or two. Wausaukee High. Rangers. He got out of his car and pulled a portable search light from his trunk. The boys all moved closer to him. At five eight, most of the boys were taller than Dave, but there was not going to be a problem. There were a few problem sixteen year olds in the area, but these boys weren't them.

"First, I need all your names." He got out a pad and pencil. The boys hesitated. They wanted credit for finding the body, but they knew what their parents would assume when they heard the location. This is where teens went to drink. But each of the boys gave their name, even spelling last names where necessary.

"Now, will someone show me where you found the body?" Ben, the oldest, was first to agree, but in truth, all the boys wanted to go back and take some credit for the find. So all of them went back into the woods, following Kekkonen and his search light. This was where the boys got nervous. They had been away from the body for five or ten minutes. What if he was not dead, and had gotten up and walked away? They would look like fools and liars.

Fortunately (from their perspective), the body was still there. Kekkonen set his light on a rock and knelt down to feel for a pulse. He could see that half the man's head was gone, but procedure is procedure. He also did a quick examination of the man's condition. Yes, his head was about half gone, but there was also a blur of blood on his shirt in two places. Exit wounds. Small caliber. Shot up river, floated over the falls, might have gone farther down the Pike if the boys hadn't grabbed him. Pretty good current this time of year. He moved the light slowly over the man. Not much else he could tell. There would be experts up here in the morning to make a closer examination.

"Tell me what you saw." All four boys answered at once. Dave raised his hand. They stopped. "You." Dave pointed to the tallest kid. "Tell me."

Ben described the noise at the top of the falls, the splash, and how they pulled the man from the river. Two of the boys added points here and there, mostly to explain that they had been the ones to actually wade into the river to get the man. But there was really nothing to add to the story. The man dropped over the falls, they pulled him out, they called 911.

Dave nodded, and thanked the boys for getting the man out of the water. Had he been alive, they might have saved his life. It was obvious they liked hearing that. Then he told them to go home, but to clean up their beer cans first – including the empties. They all grabbed cans in both hands and went back to their car. Dave moved his car so it no longer blocked their exit, then he positioned it so no other cars could pull into the lot. The call back to dispatch took time as dispatch woke a sergeant, then a detective. There was a protocol for how deaths were handled, but it wasn't a process they had to use very often. So things took longer. Finally Kekkonen made his report and initial assessment. Unknown male, shot at least twice. He was told to maintain his position until relieved – probably around dawn.

He called Bonnie again and explained the situation. She said she would bring him a sandwich and some coffee. Procedures called for all civilians to stay clear. Marriage called for her to bring him a sandwich and for him to accept.

While he waited, Kekkonen walked back to the falls. He needed to be careful. He didn't want to step through any evidence. Of course the boys had been all over, but that was them. This was him. His boot prints obscuring other boot prints would not go over well.

So he stayed where he and the boys had been. His search light had a strong beam. He pointed it up river, and then slowly did a complete three sixty. When he completed the loop, he thought he saw something. Eyes at the top of the falls. Woods were full of eyes. Deer, raccoons, even the occasional wolf. He kept the search light on the eyes, but slowly swung his arm out, away from his body.

The first bullet took him in the forearm. The second bullet took the light. He leapt away from the river and into the shelter of the trees. His arm was broken and bleeding. His right arm. He was right handed. He needed to wrap something around the wound, get the arm stationary against his body, and he needed to draw his weapon and defend himself left handed. It felt like it took forever just to unholster his weapon. He also had to pull back the slide to chamber a round. He ended up putting the grip between his knees and pulling back with his left hand. It took three tries to hold the pistol tight enough for him to hear the solid "click" as a round successfully chambered.

If you know what you are listening for, the click of an automatic can be deafening. In this case, it revealed his position, but it was also like a rattler's warning. Come close and you will get bit. As much as he wanted to get the guy who shot him, he also wanted to survive the night. Shooting left handed in the dark was not a fair fight. He needed the bad guy to go away. They would tangle another time.

Kekkonen was squatting down behind a fairly good sized birch. He froze in that position and listened. Mosquitoes buzzed – and landed. The falls made a constant "shh" as it dropped from boulder to boulder. He ignored both sounds. He would either hear brush being pushed out of the way as the man came through the woods, or he would hear boots landing as he stepped down from rock to rock.

What he heard instead was a car horn. His wife arriving with his sandwich. Every possible action he took now likely resulted in death. He stays in positon, and his wife comes to him. She is heard and shot. She stays where she is, and the killer comes around to her. She is seen and shot. He moves toward his wife. He is heard and shot.

He decided he would rather die protecting his wife. He stood slowly. He had broken his arm before. He knew to secure it. Any motion of bone on bone was agony. He slowly pulled it to his stomach and held it there with his left hand, his pistol jammed just under the broken arm, basically useless. He waited, listened, then turned and moved as quickly as he could, back toward his wife.

Bonnie was standing next to his cruiser, looking towards the woods, her headlights showing the path through the trees. Dave was holding his hands over his stomach and running in an odd way, like his feet hurt. She started toward him, and then stopped when she saw another man at the edge of the woods.

"Dave!"

He dropped, turned, and fired three times. Bonnie saw the other man fire, and she could see Dave was hit. She ran the last twenty steps to him, slid down at his side and took his weapon. The man from the woods had his gun raised and was walking directly to them. Bonnie sat up, braced her elbows on her knees, and put two bullets into his chest.

Chapter 2

Kat

Saturday was a heavy day for Kat. Her business was to provide outdoor experiences for women. Mostly weekends. Fly fishing in summer, some hunting in the fall, but lots of art activities too – ice sculptures, pine decorations, woodland water colors. Her lodge was a massive log structure with huge windows facing a lake. Massive, beautiful, stunning. It took Kat's breath away when she first saw it. Built by a fishing guide who believed he was so famous wealthy men would fly to Amberg, Wisconsin to spend a week fishing with him, it turned out he wasn't famous enough to lure them from Montana and Canada. Six owners later, Kat bought it with her life savings and kept it going with her retirement pay. Twenty years as an Army officer got her a monthly check big enough to keep her in food while the business grew.

The small lake in front of her lodge was not striking enough for the rich and famous (and who would brag about being the first in their social circle to explore Amberg, Wisconsin?), but it worked for Kat. Women could practice casting before going off to several local trout streams. Women could practice canoeing or kayaking. Women could swim if they wished. Or, women could stand on the shore and make ice sculptures, or paint water colors, or take pictures. And, if they walked a short ways to a marshy area, they could see clumps of lady slippers. That's where Kat had taken them Friday night after dinner and just before sunset. They had to swat mosquitoes, but they could capture those flowers from multiple angles and multiple light levels.

It was a challenge, and an opportunity. There were ten women this weekend. Enough so they had to stay out of each other's way, and they had to stand in mud, and kneel in a little dampness, but they could choose any background they wished. Several worked the setting sun. Several played with portions of the lake. One got down on the ground to get the flowers with a clump of birch rising above them.

Kat didn't think of it as a test, but it told Kat everything she needed to know about the women she would have in her lodge for the weekend. Did they cooperate with each other as they moved? Did they show respect for the other plants as they stepped through the fragile march? Did they show creativity and artistry as they worked? Would they put up with mosquitoes for an hour? All ten passed with pretty high marks.

Back in the lodge's two story great room, they sank into huge leather chairs left from the original owner, sipped white wine, and passed their digital cameras and phones around. Another test, really. Could they comment seriously, and even critically, without offending? Could they be helpful? Could they be supportive? They could. Ten happy women climbed the stairs to the guest rooms a little before midnight.

Saturday was history day. Kat took them into Amberg, and they walked each street. Sometimes they talked to locals who might be out on their porch. They got pictures of each of the buildings and all three of the stores. Kat took them into the Amberg bar and had Jim talk to them about the role the bar played in the town and some its history. They had lunch next door at the restaurant.

Then out to the abandoned granite quarry. They sat on blocks of granite while Kat told them about Bill Amberg, the man who had owned the quarry and the cutting sheds back in town. The man who had taken the train out of town when the men went on strike. He had never come back. The business closed and the town emptied. In desperation the town leaders changed the name of the town from Pike to Amberg. They invited him to the renaming ceremony. He never returned. Somehow the new name was used anyway. The women photographed the quarry and the abandoned equipment.

Then it was off to Dave's Falls for pictures of the logging era. But it was barricaded by several sheriff's vehicles. Police tape was everywhere. Kat stopped her van along the road and got out to talk with a deputy who was standing by the squads. She didn't know him. Two deputies worked the northern half of the county. She knew both of them well. She didn't know this man. And he didn't seem very interested in her.

"Closed. We are investigating a death. Please leave." Emphasis on "leave," not on "please."

Kat got back in her van. She turned onto County K. As she drove east, she explained the police were investigating a death. She explained the river could be tricky, and someone might have gone over the falls. She told them about unlucky Dave and the logging days. A couple women had questions she couldn't answer. She had been too busy to check any of the news websites that morning. She said she would check later, and that seemed to satisfy the women. Kat suspected by the time they got back to the lodge, all interest would be gone.

Down County K was her favorite session – an old one-room school house. Kat parked out front. Women were instantly out of the van and all over the school house taking pictures. Kat dragged a bag from behind her seat. Time to dress up as a school teacher might have a century earlier. Over her jeans and polo shirt she pulled on an old skirt, length down to her ankles, a white blouse with frills down the front, and a large straw bonnet. When the women saw her get out of the van, they applauded.

Kat had a key to the school house and she led all inside. Significant effort had gone into putting older desks, blackboards, and books in the space. Grade school kids were brought up on field trips. But July was no time to be inside an old building. By afternoon it was stifling inside. Kat was especially hot in the extra layers of clothing, but she pointed out some of the work that had gone into restoring the building (it had been used to store hay for years), and waited while the women took pictures of the school and of her. But everyone was sweating, so she quickly led them outside and had them sit on the front steps while she described the history of the place.

It ended up being two discussions. First, teaching. Since several of the guests were teachers, there was quick discussion of teaching in one room schools. It started when one of the women told Kat she looked just like a teacher. Several of the teachers laughed, and Kat explained.

"Ladies, correct me if I am wrong, but most of these teachers were sixteen or seventeen years old. Twenty at the oldest. I'm forty six. These teachers were local girls who finished eighth grade and were then sent to a normal school for two years. Tuition at normal schools was free, and they often did house work to earn their meals. There were no high schools in the area or in any of the rural communities, so normal schools gave the girls a bit of high school and a bit of teacher training. Back they came to Amberg and taught for two or three years until they were married."

"They hadn't even gone to high school?"

One of the teachers handled that question. "Eventually the normal schools required high school graduation, but that created its own problems. Since only cities had high schools, only city girls could become teachers. So now, instead of local kids teaching, city girls were brought in. Sometimes that worked, and sometimes it didn't."

"And what happened to the normal school?"

Kat took that one. "The closest one is now called University of Wisconsin Stevens Point. My brother teaches there. That's what happened. The normal schools grew and became universities. Okay?"

That resolved, Kat moved to the farming era – 1900 to 1930. Kat walked them through the period of European immigrants coming to the U.S. They usually settled by ethnic origin since it gave people a common language to use. Mostly Germans here. Brought up on trains and showed the land in the winter when it was snow covered. The sales pitch was "If it grows trees, it will grow corn." Whatever it would grow, it wouldn't grow it until all the stumps hidden by the snow were taken out – a backbreaking job that took years.

"Let me show you something." Kat got them up and moving. She led them across the road.

"By 1930 it was clear the land was poor and the growing season short. Along came the Depression, and most lost their farms to back taxes. All the woods you see around you used to be farms. You can see the foundations of one of the old farm houses in this field." She had them look across a fence at a small hay field. "Look for the ridges where the stone foundations once stood." She pointed and motioned the shape of a square. "See it?"

"It's right across the street from the school, so maybe the teenage girl who lived here became a teacher." Kat paused. She could see the women struggling to get a picture of the ridges in the field. It would not be easy to capture.

"Now, let me show you the one thing I hope you remember from this weekend." She walked a little ways down the road to a lilac bush rising next to the fence. It was thick and gnarly, twisted away from the west wind, maybe fifteen feet high. There were no blossoms on it in July, but it was clearly a lilac bush.

"We know women had it tough a century ago. It still ain't easy. But I sometimes think about the woman who planted this lilac. She cooked, she cleaned, she gave birth to babies in a tiny cabin, she helped out in the fields. And then, when the kids were asleep and the husband was inside smoking his pipe, she came out here and planted a lilac. She added beauty. I know it doesn't look all that beautiful now, but think of what she did. She added beauty to their world. I like to think as they drove away for the last time, bankrupt, their farm gone for taxes they couldn't possibly pay, she looked back at this lilac and felt a little bit proud of what she had done for her family."

Kat moved out of the way and watched ten women take pictures from every angle. She stood out in the road watching them, and then watching a gray sedan slowly roll towards her. GSA plates. Government car. The car stopped. Two occupants, one man, one woman, both mid-thirties, both wearing government suits and government haircuts. She walked to the driver's side.

"Miss Johnson?" The driver – a man – held his FBI credentials for her to see.

"Yes."

"We'd like to talk with you."

"I'm with my guests until tomorrow afternoon. Can our talk wait until then?"

The driver looked over to the woman next to him. She nodded.

"Yes, would three o'clock work?" Kat nodded. "See you at three." He slowly rolled the car ahead, got past the women taking pictures, and then accelerated. Kat stood motionless as it drove away. FBI in Amberg. Why? And why her?

Kat rejoined the women. One of them hugged her. "I loved your story about this woman. I bet it is true." Other women seemed to like the story too. Kat liked the story, and she told it often, but it also felt like a challenge as well. A woman adds beauty to a marginal farm in the middle of nowhere. How much beauty was Kat adding?

She kept those reservations to herself and drove the van back to the lodge. It had been a long day. Lois had dinner already laid out on tables along the lake shore. The food was good, the conversations pleasant, the women obviously pleased. They were more pleased when Kat brought out several bottles of white wine.

As the sun set, Kat lit a bonfire on the beach. By now the women were well into their second or third glass of wine. Wine, night, bonfires, singing was natural. Sixties pop songs mostly. Beatles tunes. The lyrics were simple. Who couldn't sing, and laugh to "I want to hold your hand."

By nine women started to drift away, some to take pictures of the night sky, some to have another glass of wine resting in the great room, a few already up to their rooms to sleep. Kat sat in the great room until the last of the women went up to bed, then she retreated to her own room back behind the dining room. She thought about getting her phone out and checking the news, but drownings happened. No need for the details. And she was every bit as tired as her guests. She slid into bed and was asleep in minutes.

Chapter 3

FBI

Sunday was always a good day. By then all the guests knew each other, so conversations came easily. And they had all accomplished something, whatever that weekend's workshop topic happened to be. So there was pride. Blueberry pancakes helped. Lois made great pancakes, and lots of them. Women came down to breakfast whenever they were ready, gathered in the dining room, and took one pancake after another. It became a joke if someone said "Last one," because it never was.

The dining room was part of the joke. It was huge, and formal, but it had been designed with rich sixty year old men in mind. The table was made by joined four by tens, stained, varnished, and long. It would seat fourteen to sixteen easy. Above it hung a chandelier made of deer antlers. Along the walls had been an endless array of stuffed fish. Most were gone, but Kat had kept the musky that hung just behind the head of the table. Essentially over her head. None of the women could look at the antlers or the musky without laughing. The room instantly broke the ice Friday evenings, and women were still joking about it Sunday mornings. Most groups had a contest – name Kat's fish. The names sometimes got very bawdy.

When all the guests actually had had the last pancake, they took a walk. Kat wanted to give them some woodland shots, and more lake shots. So they took a logging road for about a mile, getting pictures of a range of trees under a range of lightings. The area around Amberg had once been the home to huge white pines. Now it was all second growth – poplars, birch, cedars. It was logged for pulp wood – future newsprint and toilet paper. But that meant there were cleared areas to photograph, mature areas, and everything in between. As always, most pictures were taken of the logging road, poplars arching over, or stands of birch edging away into the distance.

Kat spent about an hour on the logging road, then took the women back to the lake road and walked completely around the lake. More pictures – sun behind, sun in front, water rippling in the wind, water still behind a willow. There were postcard pictures everywhere.

They got back to the lodge in time for lunch. Lois fed them along the shore again. Lemonade and sandwiches at picnic tables. There was no requirement that guests leave right after lunch, but they did – or at least they started to. There was always one more woman to hug, and one more group picture to get, and one more email address to copy. This group was like all the others. They started for their cars around one, and finally left a little after two.

Kat helped Lois load the dishwasher, then Lois left, and Kat was on her own until the next group arrived on Friday.

Except of course, the FBI wanted to see her.

One thing to do before the FBI arrived – start the laundry. She climbed the stairs and began stripping ten beds. Three loads for the washer, plus towels. Every woman had used every towel. She might still be washing towels in the morning. She got the first armload down the stairs and into the washer. It took three more trips up and down a long flight of stairs. Kat didn't do morning runs along the lake as often or as far as she knew she should, but she thought all the stairs had to be some kind of aerobic exercise.

Being FBI, they arrived precisely at three. Kat had moved one load from the washer to the dryer and started a second load of wash. The floor was piled high with future loads. She walked through the lodge when she heard their knock. Once she got a good look at them, she was pretty sure she had been right about their ages – mid-thirties. Probably a decade on the job. Both wore cheap blue suits, both had shorter hair, both brunettes. She went about five eight. He probably just made six feet. Her hair was back in a ponytail. Minimal makeup. Both had average faces, and average builds. If there were major muscle groups under those blue suit coats, they were well hidden. A petty thought, but Kat assumed she could take either one of them, maybe both.

The man did the introductions – Elise Konkol, Terrance Holt. Kat noticed "Terrance," rather than "Terry." Well, they were the FBI. Likely up from the Milwaukee field office, hence the GSA car rather than a rental they might have picked up at an airport.

"Mind if we talk in my kitchen? I am in the middle of laundry duty."

Kat didn't wait for an answer. She turned and led them through the lodge to the kitchen. The kitchen was massive, maybe the largest in the county. Certainly the largest in any home. One more delusion the original owner had – gourmet meals from a gourmet chef. Kat couldn't afford her own chef. She used the two older ladies from the Amberg restaurant as a catering service. They needed the business, and she needed the help. They not only brought in the food, but they cleaned up after.

Kat pointed to a pair of stools at a huge work table. They sat. She walked to the stove and heated water for coffee.

"I'll make coffee. Do you mind instant?"

They agreed that would be fine. It would certainly be fine with Kat. It would allow her to sit at the table when she wished, get up and go to the stove when she wished, and turn her back to them when she wished. They probably knew they had just given her an edge during an interrogation, but then, they also needed to imply this was not an interrogation. Their problem, not hers.

"Major Johnson, we have a few questions, if you don't mind." It was the man asking the questions. Interesting choice. The usual macho shit, or calculated to make Kat unhappy? And her rank? Clear that they had done at least minimal background reading, and clear they were here about her experience in her last profession, not her expertise as a fishing guide.

"I am happy to help with your investigation, but I also need to get ready for next weekend's arrivals, so excuse me if I step over to the laundry area to move another load." She pointed to a smaller room set off from the kitchen.

"We understand you are very busy." He then ignored her needs, pulled out an iPad, and worked his way through about fifty questions. Half an hour passed as he worked his way through her service record, where she had been assigned, her duties, her commendations, her areas of training. During that time Kat served them coffee, pulled a load from the dryer, folded those sheets, moved a load from the washer to the dryer, and put more sheets in the washer. Put another way, he asked obvious questions, and she did something useful with the laundry. Eventually he got around to the purpose of his visit.

"Since you began your business here, have you traveled outside the United States?" It was a stupid question. He was FBI. He knew who left the U.S. and when. He knew she had gone nowhere. Was she supposed to get upset over an obviously dumb question? She chose not to.

"No. Would you like another cup of coffee?"

"No thank you." Polite – if brief - smiles from both agents. "Thank you for asking. Have you had any communications from outside the country?"

"I get the occasional emails from Nigerian princes happy to make me rich, but I assume you are not asking about that."

"No. If you would just answer the question."

"No, I have not received any international communications." Kat took a seat opposite the agents. It appeared the interrogation had finally begun in earnest.

"Have you received recent communications from people you knew during your time in the Army?"

"I was deployed twice to Iraq and three times to Afghanistan. Three of the units I served with have formed Face Book Groups, and we keep up with each other that way, although most of the postings are jokes of the day, that sort of thing. I also get calls from people I served with. We try to stay in touch."

"And from your time in Germany?"

"No, that was over twenty years ago. I get out a Christmas card to six or seven, but that is pretty much it."

"No recent contact with Colonel Brandt?"

"Just at Christmas."

"But you also sent him a text last week, correct?" Both agents were carefully examining each movement of her facial muscles. Kat had sat through some of the same interrogation seminars. She knew what they were looking for. Her mouth would lie, but her eyes would tell the truth.

"No, I did not send him a text." She stopped there and gave them plenty of time to study her face.

"We have a copy of it."

"I did not send it." She looked at one, then the other. Both were staring. Not much subtlety in their technique.

"You did not ask him to visit you here."

"Oh shit." Kat put both her hands on the table top. She needed to steady herself. "Charlie was the 'accident' at Dave's Falls. Is that why you're here?"

They both looked back at her. Still studying her reactions.

"Well? Did something happen to Charlie?"

"Colonel Brandt was killed just west of Amberg. We assume he was on his way to see you." The male agent was still asking all the questions. But Kat felt like somehow the woman was watching her more carefully.

"Killed how?"

"We aren't prepared to say."

"Of course not. Fucking FBI. The one thing we could always count on in any investigation was no help from you. Do you plan to tell me anything?"

"Where were you Friday night between eleven and twelve?"

"Here. Maybe having a final glass of wine with my guests, or maybe in bed. I don't recall exactly when I went to bed. Sometime between eleven and twelve. Now. I repeat. Are you going to tell me anything about Charlie's death?"

"No." Both agents stood. Kat got up as well. Time for her arrest? Apparently not. "We ask you not to leave the area. We will have additional questions for you as our investigation continues." They both turned and left. Fucking FBI. They could at least have expressed sympathy for her loss. Charlie had been her commanding officer, and her best friend.

Chapter 4

A Walk in the Woods

Kat stared at their car as the agents drove a way. Fucking FBI. She started back to the kitchen and the laundry area, then stopped herself. She needed information, and she needed a shoulder to cry on. She backed her fourteen passenger van out of the massive, four car garage and headed into town. Amberg was just a shell of a place. A remnant. Once large enough for a railroad station and its own school, it now consisted of about twenty homes and one commercial block. Not all the homes were occupied, and the commercial block had plenty of empty space. One side of the street had been filled by the railroad. Those track hadn't been used in decades. Now people parked there. The other side of the street consisted of – empty lot, local bar, tiny restaurant, even smaller grocery/party store, empty lot, abandoned post office.

Jim ran the local bar. Boyfriend of three years, fiancé of three months. A beer with him seemed right.

Until she saw the crash scene. Her drive into town was simple – Town Corner Lake Road south to Dow Dam Road, left into Amberg. There was a crash on Dow Dam Road, not far outside town. Two cars. Sedans. Locals drove trucks, and locals didn't drive off the road, well, at least not while sober. She had seen the two cars there the day before, and they were still there. Marinette County is part of the modern world. They have tow trucks. Odd that none had been called.

Odder still, Kurt Martin was standing near the cars. Kurt was auxiliary police. Somewhere between late seventies and early eighties, he had a uniform shirt he wore over his skinny shoulders when extra men were needed to direct traffic, usually for Fourth of July parades in Wausaukee or Crivitz. Kat pulled over, well off the road, and walked back to see if help was needed.

"Hello, Kat." Everyone knew Kurt, and Kurt knew everyone. Not hard to do in a town of two hundred.

"Anyone hurt?" Kat stood next to Kurt and stared at the two cars. It looked like one had turned into the other. Both dodging a deer on the road?

"These are the Dave's Falls cars. Still investigating. Even the FBI." Heavy emphasis on "FBI". His jaw seemed to rise at the same time. He was connected, however remotely, to the FBI. He would have lots to say to lots of people, for as long as they cared to listen.

"What?"

"One guy was shot and drowned. One guy shot Dave Kekkonen two times. Bonnie killed him. Half the deputies in the county are over there."

Kat stared at Kurt, and then at the cars. One shot and drowned, one shot. FBI. They were here because of Charlie. Was he the guy who drowned, or the guy who Bonnie shot? Drowned. Had to be. Some guy shot him and had then been killed. Fucking FBI. Were they ever going to tell her anything?

"So most guys are at Dave's Falls, and you are here." Kat looked over his shoulder at the two cars.

"They think the two dead guys came from these cars. I am supposed to watch them until investigators get here. They said by noon. No sign of them yet."

Kat studied the cars. Cars. Locals generally drove trucks. Better traction in snow, and handy in a place where you needed to haul your own garbage and bring in anything and everything. Cars. One a rental. It had a small Hertz sticker on the back bumper. Even without the sticker it was obvious it was a rental. Small, cheap, shades of beige, four doors. She had rented cars like these a million times in the Army. The Army covered the cost when she was on TDY.

The cars were angled against the trees. It looked like the rental had forced the other off the road. He had forced the car off the left side of the road. The left side. That almost never happened. You passed a guy, then pushed him off to the right. None of this was as easy as it looked in movies. You didn't run equal to the guy and bang against his side. Well, you did in movies since it extended a dramatic scene with music blaring as the two cars dueled. In real life, you took the guy out fast. You drove up from behind and tapped him just forward of the back bumper. That caused him to lose control, and go crossways on the road. Dangerous move. It might flip him. Alternative? Pass him, get about three feet of your hood past him, and then just edge to the right. He slid out of your way and edged against the curb, or you bent his fender against his front wheel and stopped him that way. Kat had practiced – and used – both approaches multiple times.

She had never taken anyone to the left – across traffic. It took amazing planning. Assuming there was little traffic on the road (the norm in Amberg), you waited for the guy to begin passing you. Then, as he got nearly up to you, you veered to the left and forced him off the road – and into the trees as seemed to be the case here. But she had only seen that done once before. In Germany.

"Kurt, I think you should call the investigators. I may be wrong, but I think this is where the investigation should focus."

"The cars?" He looked back at them, but didn't see anything that interested him.

"The car on the right, the one that is a little farther ahead? It was in the right lane, driving along, maybe a bit slower than usual out here. The car on the left pulled around to pass, but as he got partly alongside, the car on the right veered to the left and pushed him into the trees."

"Road rage?"

"Possible, but here's another theory. Two cars. Both are from out of the area. One is headed to a destination. The other knows what the destination is, and doesn't want him to get there. He sees the left car about to leave Amberg. Right car leaves a couple minutes before him. He leaves first, slowly cruising along Dow Dam, waiting. When the left car is far enough out of town, the right car waits for him to pass, and then pushes him off the road."

"They know that, Kat. Guy forces the car off the road, and shoots the other guy. Pretty easy, Kat."

"But there's more to it. The right car knew where the left car was going. It's the only way he could have been out on Dow Dam waiting. He wasn't chasing after the left car. This wasn't road rage. This was a set up. This was a trap. There is a lot to be learned right here."

"Sorry, Kat, but there's only a few cabins out this way. You don't kill a man just to keep him from getting to his cabin for the weekend."

"He wasn't going to a cabin. He was going to a lodge."

"But the only lodge..." Kurt was a nice old man. Maybe not in his prime, but he still had enough left upstairs to know what Kat was referring to. "Oh."

"Kurt, I know to stay away from the cars. Do you mind if I take a look around in the woods?"

"They didn't say anything about that. Go ahead."

Kat was a little sorry she might be getting Kurt fired, but she wanted to take a look at the woods between the cars and the river. She promised herself she would be careful around any evidence she found.

The woods was the standard mixture in the region – poplar groves, alternating with birch, some pine, and some cedars. It was not easy walking. She lined up with the driver side door on the left car – the one she assumed had been Charlie's. This had all happened Friday night, almost forty eight hours earlier. If she had the sequence right, Charlie was driving along, headed to her lodge. He passes a car, and suddenly the car is smashing his right fender and pushing him straight into these trees. Maybe the man is also shooting at him, maybe not, but Charlie was a military cop for thirty years. He knows he is under attack. The minute he can get free of his airbag, he is out the door and off into the woods. Evade and escape.

Charlie gets a head start. The assailant in the right car ends up with the driver's door jammed against Charlie's side door. He has to crawl over the center console and exit the right side of the car. If Charlie is armed, this is his chance to position himself and kill the assailant. The gun fight would have happened right here, not at Dave's Falls. It didn't happen, so Charlie was traveling unarmed. No sense of danger. Off to see an old friend. So he ran.

How many movies have been made where trackers go into a forest and see footprints or bent branches and know exactly where their quarry is? It looks so easy in movies. Kat knew it was almost impossible in real life, and made even harder when the quarry is trained to evade. Charlie would start in one direction, making plenty of noise, then go off at an oblique angle as quietly as possible. She actually did see a few broken branches as Charlie crashed into the underbrush just off the road. Forty five degrees to the right. Kat followed, seeing a bent branch here or there. The ground was all leaves. There would be no footprints. But she had an idea what he was doing.

About fifty yards into the woods, she saw a branch broken on the right. Good. A diversion that meant he was actually going left. From here, he would be silent, moving slowly, stepping carefully. But of course no one moves without any noise. Branches, leaves, there is always something under foot making noise. He would listen for the assailant and try to make noise as the assailant was making his own noise. Start. Stop. Careful movement. Not covering much ground any more.

The chase could have gone on an hour or more. Yes, eventually the accident would be seen and reported. But response times were slow, and with no evident injuries, no emergency would be called in. The assailant might be able to track Charlie all night.

Kat stepped carefully, looked for additional signs of movement or pursuit. Eventually she came to the banks of the Pike River. Would Charlie try to cross? Wade its length? Double back? It depended upon how close his pursuer was. Kat walked the river's edge. And she saw footprints in some mud. Was this where Charlie stood as he was shot? Or where the shooter stood, firing into Charlie as he swam the river?

Probably the shooter. If Charlie drowned, he was already in the water. He might have been using the water. The current would move him pretty fast – away from pursuit. He would not have known about Dave's Falls waiting for him. He would have known he could move faster in the water than on land. He gets in. Somehow the assailant catches up, hears something in the water, and starts shooting. Charlie is hit.

Kat looked down at the footprints. Large. Athletic shoes. Good for driving, running, chasing unarmed men through the woods. Maybe the shoes were unique in some way and would help the investigation. She was wearing a yellow polo shirt. She tore off the bottom two inches and tied the strip onto a branch near the prints. A gift to the FBI. Or, a gift to the local deputies if they did the actual investigation while the FBI sat in their car.

Enough pushing through underbrush, and enough mosquitoes. Her arms were scratched in a thousand places. Kat pushed branches out of the way and got back to the road. Kurt was still standing by the cars, still waiting for the relief that was to reach him by noon.

"Kurt, I found some footprints by the river. I have wrapped a strip of yellow material around a branch to mark the spot. I think it's where the shooter stood."

"Thanks, Kat. If you see any deputies in town, would you tell them I could use some water? There were some pills I should have taken at noon."

Kat had a cooler full of water bottles she kept for her guests. She walked back to her van and got Kurt a bottle. Then she stood and watched as he took four different pills from a plastic pill case, and washed them all down.

"Would you like me to relieve you for a while so you can rest?"

"Oh no, Kat. Only deputized auxiliaries allowed." She could see him puff up his chest as he said it. Kat gave him a close look. His face was red, but he seemed to be breathing normally. He might be a million years old, but his pride would probably get him through another day. Kat smiled and went back to her van. Amberg was less than a mile away.

If you only have three functioning businesses in town, it shouldn't be too hard to find out if Charlie had stopped. Maybe for food, maybe for directions. It turned out he had stopped for directions and a bottle of wine.

Just because Kat processed mostly left to right, she parked the van along the abandoned train tracks and then walked across the street to the party store. She would check there first, then do the restaurant, and then talk with Jim at the bar. She learned what she needed at the party store.

Ed Schneider ran the place. Retired guy. Nice enough, but a talker. Kat doubted he did a thousand dollars' worth of business a week, but that was fine with Ed. He played solitaire on his computer and talked the arm off anyone who came in. Kat stood in front of him and fiddled with her phone, trying to find a picture of Charlie while Ed told her all about the shooting. The murdered man had been shot three times, one shot taking off most of his head. Boys had found him. Then the killer had shot Dave Kekkonen twice. Luckily, Bonnie was there, and she put two in his chest. He should have known better than to take on Bonnie. She got a fourteen point buck last season and...

"Did this man come into your store on Friday?" She had a picture of Charlie from a division reunion ten years earlier.

"Yes. He bought a bottle of wine and asked how to get to your place." Ed was old, but he wasn't stupid. He looked at the picture, looked at the tears coming down Kat's face, and figured it out.

"Kat, I am so sorry. He seemed like such a nice man. He seemed really happy about seeing you again." He looked at the picture, and then at Kat. "About the wounds, I shouldn't have said... The boys have been saying... Kat, I'm really sorry." He looked like he might come around his counter and hug her. She backed away, nodded, and left.

"FUCK." Kat stood out on the street and just shouted. "FUCK." Half his head gone? "FUCK." He even bought wine. He was going to see an old friend. "FUCK." The stop cost him his life. The killer saw him, knew where he would be going next, and set up the kill. "FUCK."

She needed Jim. Six two, big like her, she could grab him and have him grab her. "FUCK." Jim's bar was all of fifty feet farther up the block. Old, crappy, peeling paint and scuffed floor. She pushed open the door and stepped in.

It was her lucky day. The two idiot FBI agents were standing by the bar, talking to Jim. She practically ran up to them. She grabbed the man by the tie and shouted into his face.

"You. FBI Asshole. Outside right now. You and I are going to deal with this." She pulled on his tie and backed toward the door. Both FBI agents struggled with her.

"You touch me and you go to jail." The man was trying to break her hold on his tie. The woman was reaching for her weapon. Jim flew around the bar and grabbed Kat from behind.

"I intend to do a hell of a lot more than touch you. If you are a man, step outside." Kat kept pulling him. She was also tightening his tie around his neck."

"Kat, no." Jim got his arms around her shoulders and chest, and tried to turn her. The move turned her, but also turned the agent she was holding.

"Everyone in town knows what happened to Charlie. These ass holes came to my home, drank my coffee, sat in my kitchen, and told me nothing. NOTHING."

"You're a suspect." This from the lady FBI agent who was in the midst of drawing her gun.

"Jesus, lady." Jim turned his side so he blocked her. "This would be a good time to shut the fuck up."

"Are you a man?" Kat had her face right up against the agent. "Be a man. We step outside and settle this."

"This ends now, or I will shoot you." The lady agent had her pistol extended over Jim's shoulder.

"You haven't got the balls." Kat turned toward the woman, still holding the man's tie in her fist. The woman pointed the gun in the air and fired.

It was deafening. None of them were more than two feet from the barrel of the pistol. Their ears rang and then ached. It was like a shock wave. It hurt.

"Let him go, or the next shot goes between your eyes." She lowered the pistol and pointed it. It was no more than six inches from Kat's face. The shock of the gun shot had loosened Kat's grip on the agent. Jim pulled and twisted and got Kat away from the two agents. Once he got her moving, he kept her moving, and got her back behind his bar. He pressed her into a corner next to the pizza cooker and a tall stand of beer nut packages. Kat stopped fighting him, but she wouldn't take her eyes off the agents.

"He was assassinated. Didn't you see the cars?" Kat talked over Jim's shoulder. She was out of breath, and embarrassed to show it. She waited, then finished. "The killer knew where he was going, waited for him to come out of town, then ran him off the road. He tracked him into the woods. I marked the spot where he stood and shot Charlie. Get off your royal Washington asses, and you can get a good set of footprints."

"You had no business in those woods." The woman agent still had her weapon out, but now it was down near her hip.

"You had no business wasting time on me. You had the killer's car for Chrissakes."

"Rented to Ivan Kolokov. Brighton Beach thug for hire. By anyone. Even you. Lure Colonel Brandt to your lodge and have him killed along the way."

"For what? Not buying me a drink at last year's First Division reunion?"

"For what you did in Fulda."

Kat stared at her. She couldn't think of a thing to say. Fulda? Germany?

"I was stationed in Germany from 1996 to 1998. What has that got to do with the price of mashed potatoes?"

"You and Colonel Brandt excavated nuclear weapons. Mines."

"That was over twenty years ago, and all of that is classified."

"Twenty four years, to be exact. Now there seems to be a lot of interest in what you did. Why?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"You say we won't share information with us. Well? What about you?"

"What I did over there is classified."

"What you did over there got Colonel Brandt killed."

"You don't know that."

"Now who's hiding information?" She slid her gun back into the holster at her hip. It looked like the male agent wanted to say something, but she took his arm and turned him. Both left the bar.

Jim kept holding Kat, keeping her in the corner.

"Give them ten minutes to get in their car and drive away."

"What were they asking you about?"

"You."

"Why? I don't understand any of this."

"I'll be closing at nine. Want me to come by?"

"Yes. I'll cook you a late dinner." She caught her breath and leaned against Jim. She also noticed they were being watched. It was a bar. And bars have customers. And these guys had been pretty good about staying out of Kat's fight. "Buy this bunch a round on me." Kat put a twenty on the bar and walked out to her van. No FBI in sight.

Chapter 5

Jim

Jim was a local guy. 43 years old. High school basketball standout. UW Madison biology degree. Peace Corps volunteer in Namibia. Returned to Wausaukee to teach at the high school. Also ran the Amberg bar now that his father was too sick to do so. Relation with Kat? Three years of sleeping together one night a week. Engaged since May. Change in relationship? Not much. Still together one night a week, although since it was summer, and he didn't have to rush off to school, he could stay later in the morning. They had agreed marriage would happen, but had accepted it might not happen for a while. They were both busy, and they wanted to give Jim's teenage boys a chance to get used to the idea.

Kat made herself a snack and considered what dinner to serve Jim. She had a refrigerator jammed with leftovers. Some from this weekend. Even some from the weekend before. Lois always left plenty for her. Kat stared into the refrigerator, then decided to postpone cooking. She had several hours before Jim arrived.

Time to work on other matters. First, basic security. Someone had taken out Charlie. Someone else might be coming for her. Why? Who the hell knew? Eight nuclear mines had been buried along the border with East Germany to be used in case the Red Army decided to push west. All had been removed in 1996. Yes, she had helped with security when the mines had been removed. 1996. Ancient history. Who would want to revisit those days? Why kill Charlie over such old news? And why Amberg?

Whatever the reason, this might not be over. She had been upgrading her wardrobe and now had several sun dresses she knew Jim would like to see on her – and take off her. She put on one with a nice floral print and a scooped neckline low enough to attract Jim's attention. It also had one additional feature - patch pockets. Helpful. She put on a pair of sandals to go with the dress, and walked out to her garage – and her gun safe. It was bolted to the back wall, and contained all the rifles she used for her hunting weekends. It also contained her nine millimeter Smith and Wesson pocket pistol. Made for concealed carry. Just six inches long. Under two pounds fully loaded. She wrapped a rag around it and pushed it into her skirt pocket.

Security at the lodge was essentially nil. There were exterior lights and cameras, but that just meant whoever killed her would have a good quality picture taken as a memento. She did turn all the exterior lights on and reduce the interior lights, but there were no blinds to close. The huge windows were meant to show off the lake views. And since the lodge was alone on its end of the lake, there was no need to shade guests from public views.

The one protection Kat had was the road. It came to her lodge from around the side of the lake, and she had a good clear view of it. The next vehicle coming up that road might be Jim's truck, or trouble. Either way, she would have a good long look at it. Coming from behind the lodge was possible, but the woods was thick and went back for miles. An attacker would have to be patient or desperate to come that way. She figured the road would be the likely approach. Get in quick, kill her, get out.

Kat had other weapons. She led hunting groups in the fall. Those weapons were lined up in the gun safe – six Winchester 94s. Lever action, relatively light, easy for novices to use. Some women brought their own rifles for hunting. If they didn't, Kat taught them how to use these. She pulled two from the rack, grabbed a box of ammo for each and went back in the lodge. She loaded both rifles and put one next to her bed, and one next to her stove.

Done. She went back into her bedroom to comb her hair again and decided on a little more blush while she was at it. Then back to the kitchen. She made some spaghetti sauce and put it on simmer. She would boil the pasta when Jim arrived.

She waited in the great room on one of the huge leather chairs left from the original owner. Heavy, dark brown, it screamed "male," but the leather was such good quality and the seats so comfortable, no women had ever complained. They just settled down into the seats, just as Kat was doing now. Lights out. She sat in the seat closest to the front door and watched for Jim.

It was nearly ten by the time she saw his F150 come down the road. Ford trucks. Official vehicle of Marinette County. He parked in the drive but hesitated before getting out. Finally she could hear him step down from the truck.

"Kat?"

"In here." She stood by the front door and waited.

"Very romantic." He stepped through the door and looked around. "No candles?"

"No candles, but I do have wine." She led him into the great room and pointed to the love seat they usually shared. The bar had a wine cooler, and she pulled out a bottle of white. It took just a minute for her to bring over the bottle and two glasses.

They assumed their usual positions. She sat tight against his side, one hand up to play with the hair at the back of his head. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. They sipped their wine, Kat alternately looking directly as him as they talked, or laying her head on his shoulder. Jim started.

"You know I love you, right?"

"Yes."

"So, do I get to say something you won't want to hear?"

"Yes, but if it is really mean, I won't cook for you." Kat raised her head to look at him

"I'm no lawyer, but I think the FBI had every right to arrest you. You really roughed up that agent. If you see them again, I think you owe them an apology."

"A little courtesy from the agents when they interviewed me would have gone a long ways."

"You were angry about more than that."

"The man who was killed – Charlie Brandt. He was lured to me. I got him killed. I traced his movements. They guy was well into his sixties, and he spent his last night running through the woods, then trying to swim the Pike. He deserved better than that."

"And the FBI..."

"Okay. They were the usual government robots. They did what robots do. I needed to pound on someone, so..."

"It's safer to pound on me. And legal."

"No, it's not legal, but thanks for the offer." She lay her head back on his shoulder and adjusted herself against his side. Nice thing about having a big fiancé. Lots of man to lean against.

"You said the agents came out here to interview you. Why?"

"They said I had emailed Charlie and invited him up here. Charlie was my commanding officer in Germany. He was also my mentor and friend. We did some important things together."

"When was this?"

"Back in the 1990s. In the years before Afghanistan, young officers were either sent to Korea or Germany. I was sent to Germany."

"So this man from twenty years ago, comes to see you and is killed. What's that got to do with the FBI? Murder is a local matter, right?"

"It depends upon why he was killed."

"And the reason he was killed is something you won't even tell the FBI."

"I don't know why he was killed, but I am assuming it had something to do with things we did in Germany. Things we can't talk about."

Jim sat and stared out into the night. Kat sipped her wine. Probably a mistake. It had been a long day and the wine was likely to put her to sleep before... well, before she wanted.

"You have the lights turned off for a reason."

"They killed Charlie. There might be some risk to me. There might also be some risk to you while you are out here."

"My deer rifle is back in my apartment."

"I have one by the stove and one by my bed, and my pistol is in my pocket." She patted her hip. "If there is a need, grab whichever is closest. They are all loaded."

"You should move to my apartment."

"I have twelve women coming here Friday to do woodworking projects."

"Why aren't deputies here?"

"To guard me? My best guess? The FBI is trying to decide if I am friend or foe."

"That's stupid."

"Yes, it is." She moved her head so she could get a good look at his face. "Jim, I might fly to Germany next week. While I am gone, you may be tempted to come out here to check on things. Don't. Stay away from this place. Stay in town."

"There's nothing I can do to help?"

"The best thing you can do right now is notice I am wearing a skirt. You should already have a hand under it. Once it's there, just keep going."

It took about ten minutes on the couch to forget about the FBI and the need to keep lights off. Jim had very good hands. The same hands that could dribble a basketball faster than any other shooting forward slid up Kat's thigh and reminded her why they were engaged.

They finished their wine, but decided they didn't need any spaghetti. Kat turned off the stove and added one more leftover to the refrigerator. Jim did a nice job taking Kat's dress off her. It hit the floor with a thump. They both had the bed rocking soon after.

They had lots to say in the morning, and in the shower. None of it had anything to do with the FBI. Jim was large and fit, so Kat could be all over him without fear of hurting him. She held him down in bed long past when they should have gotten up for breakfast, and they ran a huge hot water tank dry as they showered. Conversation consisted mostly of "That feels good" and "Yes."

When it was finally time move on with their day, Kat put on a sun dress just so Jim could hold her from behind and zip her into the dress. In return, she combed his hair while he put both hands on her ass and pulled her tight against him. She lay her head on his shoulder and enjoyed the feel of his hands.

"Can I come out here again this week?"

"Give me a couple days to check on some things."

"Pick the night. I'll close the place early and be here by nine."

Kat took his hand and led him into the kitchen. She took a step toward the refrigerator to get out some eggs. And froze. Her rifle no longer stood next to the stove. She turned and dashed to her bedroom. Her pistol was gone. Pulled from the dress still lying on the floor. No rifle stood in the corner.

Jim came up and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"You should leave now. Come to my place."

"Jim, he could have killed both of us last night. He didn't. This was a message."

"I don't like the message."

"Neither do I."

"Now what?"

"I was a cop for twenty years. Now I act like it."

Focusing took extreme effort. Kat spent a lot of time breathing. Two counts in through the nose, three counts out through the mouth. Two in, three out. When she was ready, she took Jim back to the kitchen, made him breakfast, and then walked him to his truck.

They stood together, their hands all over each other, but she was pretty sure he wasn't thinking about his hands on her ass any more than she was thinking about her hands in his hair. They kissed. But it was an automatic reflex. It's what couples did when parting. Her mind was on many other things. Too many other things. She kissed Jim again, this time paying some attention to what she was doing. He grabbed her ass, and even pulled her skirt up a bit, so she knew he was at least paying some attention as well.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

"Yes, but feel free to repeat it any time you wish."

"And how good your ass feels?"

"My ass is all yours." She held up her left hand, the ring visible a few inches from his face.

"We should talk about finding a Saturday when we are both free."

"Yes. We should. Now let me go. I need to be a cop for a while." She made another move to back away from him, but he kept his hands right where they were, holding her to him.

"Kat, promise you'll be careful." He slid one hand up her back and raised her up to him.

"They used to pay me to handle situations like this."

"Handle it safely." He hugged her. There was nothing left to say. They stood together a while longer, and then he got in his truck and slowly drove away. Kat stood and watched him leave. She wondered who was watching her. She controlled her breathing and walked back into the lodge casually, or at least appearing casual, even though she was tempted to bend over and sprint the last few yards.

Chapter 6

Googling Charlie

The lodge had a small office. An afterthought adjoining the great room. Her desktop computer was there. She used social media to promote her business. Monday morning was normally her time to post pictures of the prior weekend, check on registrations for upcoming weekends, and study the short bios of the guests who would arrive on Friday. All that needed to be done, but not today.

She brought up her browser and did a search on Charles Brandt.

There were hundreds of entries. She was patient. Twice she walked back to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. She had a pad of paper next to the computer, a pad she quickly filled. It turned out there were seven Charles Brandts in the world. She chose not to narrow her search. One of the other six Charlies was interesting – a dentist who played rugby and had a fan base. Five were ordinary stiffs who were mentioned here and there. Her Charlie was on the most websites, especially the most recent postings.

She skimmed the current sites. What she saw was amazing, but she wanted to go back. She needed history and context. So she went back page after page after page, trying to find a beginning for the madness. She thought she found it about ten years ago. He had returned to his hometown in southern Illinois. One more retired officer going back to the familiar, back to streets he hadn't walked in thirty years. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Charlie seemed to be doing okay. He was listed in a website for the local Presbyterian church. He served on three committees. About that time he also joined the local Rotary Club, and there was a nice picture of him being introduced – big smiles, handshakes, the usual.

She started moving forward in time. Years go by. He volunteers to help at-risk youth, and gets a certificate at the end of the school year. He is elected president of his Rotary Club. More church offices. Charlie has adjusted. His smiles look genuine in all the pictures. The people around him seem to be showing respect. A retirement success story. Life is fine.

Until three months ago. There is a link to a local newspaper. They have a story about a YouTube channel. Charlie is mentioned there. "The Cave" presented by "Socrates." Videos are being made in Fulda and posted on the channel. The newspaper asks Charlie for comment. He acknowledges he was deployed to Germany in the 1990s. He says he was a military policeman. When pushed about his role there, he says he has no comment. When pushed further about possible nuclear weapons, he again says "no comment." And then he makes a career ending mistake. When pushed about a particular model of nuclear device, he says all information about the W54 is classified.

"Classified." Want to put red meat in a pool of piranhas? Use the word "classified." They had all been trained from OCS onward, the appropriate and safest response to any question is – "no comment." Charlie had done a great job through the opening salvos of questions, beating each back with "no comment." But he got tripped up just before the finish line. W54 was a particular device. He was never to talk about particular devices. Such information was always classified. He heard W54 and gave the automatic response – "classified." Simple word – classified. Simple to him. Automatic to him. But to those who have an agenda, or have a mind twisted forty five degrees, or need to fill four column inches before lunch, or want a line to shout on a YouTube channel, "classified" is the gift that keeps on giving.

Based on the websites Kat now searched – the most recent ones – Charlie had confirmed at least thirty conspiracies. "Classified" weapons had been stored at Fulda during the cold war, for classified purposes. Where were the weapons now? That was classified. Might they still be in Fulda? Classified. Might they go off at any time? Classified. Might they be under the control of the Illuminati? Classified. Might local farmers have run plows within inches of them? Classified. Pick a conspiracy, any conspiracy, and it was now bolstered by a retired US Army colonel who admitted – in public – that classified weapons were at that location.

Kat had to wonder how Charlie had endured the last three months. His life must have been hell. Any help coming from his old friends in the Pentagon? Probably not. Any communication might be copied and misconstrued. Better to keep distance. Quarantine was the best response. So an old army officer walked the streets of small town Illinois all alone.

Kat felt guilt. Why had she not known this was going on? She should have kept in touch with him. Annual Christmas cards weren't enough. She would have welcomed him. And, that's probably what he thought awaited him in Amberg after he got the phony email. Relief. An old friend willing to talk to him. An old friend who knew about Fulda. He must have felt he had been given a lifeline. He drove the miles with a smile on his face. He drove to his death. And she had been completely ignorant.

Kat stood and walked out to the front of her lodge.

"You fucking bastards." She shouted first to the road, and then back into her woods. "You got him. You want me next? Here I am. Come get me. Give it your best shot." She stood. She waited. She looked off into the distance. She kept her back straight and her head up.

"Well?" No response. She stood, breathed, waited. Finally she went back inside.

She wanted to look at the YouTube channel mentioned over and over in the websites, but she'd had her fill of the internet for one morning. She needed to be around people, and she needed to see some places. Off to Amberg.

As near as Kat could tell, the only business in Amberg that was solidly profitable was Jim's bar. It helps to be the only bar in town. Ed Schneider's grocery/party store was mostly empty every time Kat went in. She guessed he stayed open mostly to have a place to go. Old, retired, Ed. She pulled her van up tight against his store and went in for her weekly wine purchase. Three cases. White wine. Every weekend. Did buying wine help solve Charlie's murder? No. But it brought her back to the real world, real duties, real people.

People like Ed Schneider. He had even more to say than usual as he helped carry the wine to her van.

"Dave Kekkonen is home from the hospital. They took him down to Green Bay. Better trauma unit that Marinette. Better doctors. Marinette General used to be pretty good, but then it merged with the hospital in Menominee. Now you have one hospital trying to serve two counties in two states. I have to believe regulations would run up their costs. Doing the paper work for one state is enough trouble. Imagine papers for two."

"How's Dave doing?" Kat had the first case of wine in the center aisle of her van and was back after another case while Ed slowly shuffled out with the last case. She wondered if he had a bad back or was just old. She probably should have carried all three cases out, but Ed always insisted on helping, even though his "help" slowed the process down.

"They didn't have to amputate the arm, but it took three plates and fifty seven screws. The bullet in his leg missed the bone, but came real close to the femoral artery. The EMTs were worried he would bleed out before they got him to Green Bay."

"And Bonnie?" Kat waited at the door of the van for Ed to finally get the case close enough so she could take it from him and slide it up the aisle.

"Still angry. Comes to give Dave a sandwich and thermos of coffee, and ends up in all this. She put two in his chest, you know. The gunman was dead before he hit the ground. Bonnie gets a buck every year, you know. Twelve pointer last year. Always takes her boys hunting since Dave is always on duty for deer season. But when she saw the mess he made of Dave, she wishes she had shot the guy five or six more times."

"She said that?"

"No, but you can see it in her face."

"I see." Ed was finally close enough to the van that she could take the wine case without insulting him. She slid it onto the floor, and then followed him into the store, her checkbook in her hand. She opened it and stopped. Scrawled across the top check was a message:

"See you on the train."

Kat stopped in the doorway and stared at the check. The message was written long hand, not printed letters. No effort to disguise handwriting. Beautiful script actually. Female. Nicely done. Not rushed. The author had stood with the checkbook and taken her time. And of course that conveyed multiple messages: I want you to know I am female. I want you to know I can get into your home and find anything I want there. I want you to know I don't fear getting caught. I want you to know I am way ahead of you. I know what you will do next, where you will go. I want you to know I will be with you in Germany, riding with you on the train when you travel from the airport in Frankfurt to your obvious destination – Fulda.

Kat stood breathing two in three out, while Ed moved from the shooting to the latest event in town – the arrival of the FBI. Strange looking couple. Navy blue suits in July. Leave it to the feds. Kat folded up the check with the message and started the next check for payment.

"How much?"

"Three fifteen. I gave you a ten percent discount."

Kat wrote the check while Ed continued commenting on how FBI agents dress. Three fifteen was at least fifty bucks more than the wine would have been at the Wausaukee IGA, but she wrote the check, smiled, and left as Ed was describing their shoes.

Next door was the restaurant. Summers and deer season it served three meals a day. The rest of the year it opened for breakfast and closed at two. It was owned by two sisters, Lois and Marie, who were pushing sixty. Kat just stuck her head in the door to say "hi" and confirm the number of guests for the weekend. Lois was standing over a table taking an order, but she looked over at Kat and confirmed the number – "Twelve plus you. Got it." No extra talk with Lois and Marie. They were busy. Amberg didn't have much of a tourist influx, but a couple dozen families had summer cabins, and a couple dozen families made a difference to a town this small.

Kat thought about going back to the lodge, but she detoured the short distance to Dave's Falls. She didn't want to see the falls. It was still blocked with police tape, even though she saw no officers. No matter. She wanted to see the parking area. She wanted to study where Dave Kekkonen had been shot. She parked the van just off highway 141, about where she thought Bonnie had parked when she came to give Dave his sandwich.

Immediately things seemed odd. She stood next to her van and looked down the hill to the parking area. Everything in front of her was open. It was grass and gravel, an open field. The falls was shadowed in trees, actually a very attractive place, but shielded from the highway. Here, the drive, the parking lot, were open, visible to anyone driving by. Granted, Hwy 141 was not an interstate, but it was the main route from Green Bay to Iron Mountain, and it had traffic pretty much twenty four seven.

But a gunman had come out from the shelter of the trees, into the glare of headlights to put yet another bullet into Kekkonen. Why? And why walk up? Unless the description going around town was wrong, he had walked steadily out of the trees and up the drive. No mad rush, no dash out and then back. Steady and straight. No fear. This was not a man new to this. He had tracked his victim through the woods and over a water falls in the dark. Steady and straight. He had seen a light and fired. He had followed Dave. In the dark, in a strange place, following a man who was armed. Steady and straight. He fires again, and keeps coming. He hears Bonnie, and has to see her backlit by the headlights. But he fires at Dave. Surprise. Women up here know guns and use them. Fatal mistake.

It would help so much to know about the shooter. There was a file somewhere. Professional gunmen were not that common, despite what the movies said. A file that described him would also hint at who sent him. The FBI knew. They had a name. Anything else? Russian thug. Did they know more? The feds had sent up two local agents. Two people from Milwaukee or Madison. An Army Colonel had been killed, so a check was made. Alarm bells going off, but far too late.

Kat drove back to the lodge. She had laundry to do, and bathrooms to clean. And she had a YouTube channel to watch.

Chapter 7

Socrates

Stress kills. Kat had twenty years to learn that truth over and over. There were responses. Breathing was a good start. Count two in through the nose, count to three out through the mouth. Continue simple chores. One more load from the washer to the dryer, one more load from the floor to the washer. Lunch. She reheated last night's spaghetti sauce and poured it over two slices of bread. Open faced spaghetti sauce sandwich. Not bad really. She took her time eating it.

Someone had killed Charlie. Someone had taken her weapons. Someone had written a note in her checkbook. Someone would be waiting for her on the train to Fulda. Someone thought they were pretty damn smart. Kat ate her spaghetti sauce. She liked garlic, Jim didn't. Major schism in their future marriage. She had snuck some into this sauce. Not bad. Not bad at all.

She took an armload of clean sheets upstairs and made all ten beds. Simple chores. Tight corners, squared blankets, fluffed pillows. Simple. Towels would be next. Twelve women. At least forty towels. She stopped having to count her breaths. She was calm. She needed to clean toilets and vacuum floors, but she had three more days for that. Time to sit.

Kat had a plastic chair on the lake shore, under the shade of a tree. It was a sad old thing. She hid it when guests were around. She didn't trust it not the collapse under them. But she took it now, and sat looking out across the lake. Slight breeze, small ripples in the water. It really wasn't much of a lake, but still, it felt good sitting on its shore.

What did she know for certain? One person – a Russian – had killed Charlie. That person was dead. A second person – or persons – was in her lodge and would be on her train. Was this one team with multiple players, or were two groups involved in this? The Fulda nukes had been taken out over twenty years ago. She was certain of that. Twenty years later, someone wanted to talk about them. Why? Who? What had changed in the last twenty years?

Her options? She was a cop. Cops caught criminals. It looked like these criminals were waiting for her in Fulda. Fine. That's where she would go.

First, gather intel. Time to look at YouTube.

Her office was dark after the bright outdoors. She could barely see her chair to sit in. She had to feel around the desktop to find her mouse. She booted her system and went straight to YouTube. Searching for "The Cave" was easy enough. But once she got there, she thought her monitor had gone blank. There was a flicker of light here, and then there, and then two more. Just flickers. Then a voice, as if in an echo chamber.

"Welcome. You have entered the cave. Sit. Stare at the shadows on the wall. See what you can see. The truth is there. Hidden. Look. Catch a glimpse here. Then there. It is all we are permitted to see. But you. Fellow cave dweller. You are looking deeper. You see what others dare not. Look. Be informed. Follow today's tunnel."

The camera did some weird turns and bends, lights changing around it as it seemed to travel deeper into the cave. Then suddenly it burst out through some opening and – Kat gasped.

"Holy Hell, its Sergeant Conlon. What the Fuck?"

A painting of the face of Socrates floated to one side. Conlon, dressed in greens that might have been a military uniform, was walking across a field to the edge of a hill. It was all pasture. Could be any place in the world, but she could see a road. She knew that road. She had ridden that road a million times. And she felt herself being to growl.

"Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare." But he did.

"This is the famous valley known as the Fulda Gap. Just there..." He pointed to the horizon, "Was East Germany. Divisions of Soviet and Warsaw Pact tanks lay waiting to cross. They would take this road as they invaded Western Europe. And, right here..." He stamped down with his foot. "Here was a nuclear mine. We had classes of nuclear mines. The one placed here was a W54. One point 2 kilotons of TNT. We would set it off and this whole valley would disappear."

"And," The floating face of Socrates suddenly began talking. Kat thought the animation was fairly shoddy, but it worked well enough. You could tell it was now talking to Conlon. He looked up in the general direction of the face. "Where is that nuclear weapon now?"

"You always ask the best questions, Socrates. I don't know. It may still be here."

"There's a man we could ask," Socrates replied. The face seemed to bounce a bit. "This man would know." And now there was a picture of Charlie superimposed on the hillside. "But he was murdered two days ago. I wonder who did that."

"Good question, Socrates. Good question."

The scene faded to black and some camera movements were supposed to be the camera backing out of the tunnel. Then it was just the cave and flickering lights. Socrates was now floating in the cave.

"Cave dwellers, you know what to do next. We have so much more to tell you."

Two buttons appeared. "Subscribers" and "To subscribe"

Kat backed out of YouTube. That list of things she knew and had summarized along the lakeshore now had one addition. When she got to Fulda, she would find Sergeant Conlon and beat the hell out of him.

She shut down her computer. Sometimes breathing didn't work. Sometimes the only response was screaming. This was one of those times. She knew Conlon. He had been a desk soldier. Not because he was a good administrator, but because no one would go on patrol with him. You wanted a soldier watching your back. He was an empty uniform.

What did he know about the mines? He had never been out on patrol when they had been checked, and he certainly wasn't there when they had been removed. But he knew about one. Somehow. He was right to within a meter. That was the hillside. It would have left a very big hole where the hill had been. It would have made a permanent detour for Russian tanks.

Did he know about the others? Did he know about hers?

And why wasn't he under arrest? Was nothing a crime anymore? The FBI should be watching him, not her. She screamed at the ceiling of her office several times. She even wondered if she would be sick.

Back to her chair on the lake shore. Why were people interested in Fulda after all this time? Somebody was stirring people up. YouTube people. Why? And how was that connected to Charlie's murder? She'd heard about people doing really nutty things after looking at internet fantasies. But Charlie had not been killed by some militia nut job. Brighton Beach killers only killed if someone paid them. There was money involved here. That implied an organization. An organization implied purpose, and the purpose would be bigger than murdering some old man who once monitored nuclear weapons.

There were multiple players here. And possibly multiple masters. Kat swatted mosquitoes and stared off across the water until after sunset. Then she went in, washed two loads of towels, and went to bed.

Chapter 8

Bonnie and Dave

Tuesday morning, Kat didn't feel any smarter than she had Monday night. In the meantime, she had a business to run. The garage was her destination after breakfast. The place was huge. Technically, it would be listed as a four-car garage. Yes, it had doors for four cars. But the garage was designed to hold boats and trucks. Kat's fourteen passenger van easily fit in one of the spots, and she had three fourths of the garage left for workspace.

This weekend was the "Rustic Woodworking" workshop, and much of it would take place in the garage. This was the weekend she got out the heavy tools – chainsaw, drill press, wood lathe, and half a dozen orbital sanders. Of all the workshops she did, this was the one most at risk for injuries. So she prepared carefully.

She sat on a chair with the chainsaw between her feet and sharpened the teeth on the chain. Dull saws bucked. That was an hour used up before she even began on the other tools. Out came the big tools, carefully separated so guests didn't bump each other and cause accidents. Twelve guests meant six work tables spread over half the garage. Two women would share each table, giving them someone to talk with as they worked, and someone to answer simple questions. Safety equipment? Goggles, ear plugs, gloves, heavy aprons. Everything she needed was placed where it needed to be, all of it tested. By midafternoon Kat had the garage set up.

Kat was hot, dirty, and soaked in sweat, but she was happy. Simple tasks. Familiar tasks. In times of stress they were godsends. She had gone for hours without thinking about the weapons that had been stolen from her home, without thinking that someone could be watching her, and, yes, without thinking about Charlie.

Now what? She showered, changed into a sundress, ate another collection of leftovers, and made a phone call. Sometimes a cop just needs to talk to a cop.

"Bonnie? It's Kat Johnson. How are you?"

"Thing are fine here. Dave has me running for him all the time, but otherwise, things are pretty quiet."

"How's Dave?"

"Kat, he's been waiting for your call. If you have the time, why not stop out this afternoon?"

"Is there anything I can bring?"

"He's running low on Budweiser. Says he needs to rebuild his fluids."

"Not a problem. See you soon."

Kat drove through Amberg on her way to the Kekkonen place. Ed's party store was open, but she decided to get the beer at Jim's bar. He had four guys sitting at the bar watching a baseball game. Too late in the day to be out fishing, too early in the summer for football. What did that leave? TV baseball.

Jim gave her a big smile. She came around behind the bar and let him grope her. His hands went straight to her ass. She talked while he groped.

"I need a twelve pack of Bud. I'm going to see Dave Kekkonen."

"Take two. One from me." But he made no move to get either one. He was shielding her from the guys at the bar, and she could feel her skirt slide up.

"Take it easy, cowboy. You'll have me one of these nights." She kissed him and pushed herself free. She took two twelve packs from the cooler and left. "You can collect for the beer later." Jim smiled. The guys at the bar pretended they hadn't seen anything.

Kekkonens lived on County K. It was a straight shot east out of Amberg, straight to the Chalk Hills Dam and then across the Menominee River to Michigan. In truth, there wasn't much on either side of the river. A few small farms and lots of trees. Kekkonens lived about five miles out of town in your basic three bedroom ranch. Probably owned five or ten acres, but most of that was woods. They mowed a small yard in front. Good place for the boys to play catch. As Kat drove up, they were playing basketball in the driveway. But they had inherited Dave's genes. Neither looked tall enough to play on a team.

"Hi guys." Kat parked the van along the road so it wouldn't interfere with their game. The boys smiled when they saw a twelve pack in each hand.

Bonnie was waiting for her at the front door. Also Finnish genes. Maybe five four. Thick around the middle. Big smile and quick hug. Dave was sitting in the living room by the front windows watching the boys play. His left leg was propped up on a chair and pillows, his right arm in a sling across his stomach.

"Any recommendations for the boys?" Dave pointed out the window.

"Do they love the game?"

"Yes."

"At least an hour a day with a ball in each hand. Dribble up and down the drive. They have a chance at point guard."

"Do you think?" She could see hope in both Dave's and Bonnie's eyes.

"If they can dribble or pass out of a trap at half court, they could make a team." Kat settled into a stuffed chair next to Dave. Bonnie took the beer into the kitchen and came back with two cans and glasses. Kat and Dave toasted each other. She noticed he didn't seem to drink much.

"How's the leg?"

"The leg will be healed fast. The arm is going to take longer. Caught a bone." Dave didn't move his arm, but motioned to it with the beer can in his left hand.

"Can I ask you two about that night? I am interested in the shooter."

"Thought you might be." Dave smiled at her. "I am still on pain pills, but I can still put two and two together. This all starts when the two of them are headed west on Dow Dam. Two cars going west. What's out there? If it isn't you, what is it?"

"The guy you found at the bottom of the falls was an old friend. Colonel Brandt."

"Someone you knew from Iraq or Afghanistan?"

"Germany."

"Are you that old?"

"I was commissioned in 1996. Second lieutenants were sent over there, mostly to keep us out of trouble."

"My father did Germany in the seventies. Kept him out of Viet Nam. Came back with a VW and stories about October Fest."

"I was an MP. My stories about German beer mostly involve eighteen year old privates who enjoyed it too much."

They paused to sip their beer. Kat guessed Bonnie had people bring beer because that's what you did in Wisconsin. It made everything feel normal. Nothing to worry about here. Everything is fine. Given his medications, Kat assumed Dave might be good for one beer a day –if that. You don't take two bullets and start hosting parties.

"My father told stories about the Gap. Made it sound like every Russian on the planet was ready to come through the Gap if he ever let his guard down. Do you know where that is?"

"Fulda. Eastern edge of what was then West Germany."

"And they have a gap?"

"There are mountains throughout Germany. We always assumed if the Soviets came, they would come through three different places where tanks could maneuver. Fulda was one of them."

"So my father was protecting Fulda?"

"No. Fulda is a hundred kilometers from Frankfurt and our main airbase in Germany. Your father was protecting an airport."

"And you?"

"I was stationed in Fulda, but by 1996 Germany was completely reunified. Most of the fence was down. Most of the mines collected. Mostly I just played basketball. We were winding down and moving out."

"So..." Dave had set his beer down and was examining Kat. He was a friend, but he was also a cop. And he had nearly been killed.

"So why is someone here twenty years later, killing a retired Army colonel? I wish I knew."

"I would ask, what does a retired colonel need to say to you that he didn't say twenty years ago, and why couldn't he just call?"

"Dave, honestly, I don't know."

"And why did that man want to kill Dave?" Bonnie had been standing by the door to the kitchen. Now she sat opposite Kat. If anything, her expression was more intense than Dave's. They had both nearly been killed. They wanted Kat to tell them why.

"Bonnie, can you tell me about that man? How he looked? How he moved?"

"He looked middle aged, middle sized. Just a guy. What was unusual was how he moved."

"How was that?"

"Slowly. And with compete focus on us. Like a bomb could have gone off next to him and he wouldn't have noticed. He saw us, he moved toward us. He shot Dave and he looked like he was ready to shoot again. He just kept coming. His eyes on us. His arms outstretched. The gun pointed at Dave." Bonnie stopped there. She looked at Kat, then Dave, then the floor.

"Thank God you are a good shot."

"I didn't need to be. He paid no attention to me. He didn't duck, or move fast, or do anything to make my shot hard. He wanted to kill Dave. It was only after I put the first bullet in him that he looked at me. He just started turning the gun in my direction when I put the second shot in his chest." Bonnie looked at the floor again.

"Kat." Dave gestured with his left hand. "I had seen him at the top of the falls. He didn't want a witness. He had me down. He was going to finish me. He didn't see Bonnie take my weapon."

"Did the FBI tell you about him?"

"They came to see me when I was in the hospital. Hate to say it, but I was so full of pills I wasn't much help. They told me some Russian guy shot me. What are Russians doing in Amberg?"

"They told me he was just some thug for hire."

There was a long pause. Bonnie wasn't the only one staring at the floor.

"Dave, this thing isn't over. Sunday night someone came into my lodge and took some weapons I had. Someone is still in town."

Bonnie pointed to a rifle she had next to her stove. "I was worried about that."

"I am going to Germany Monday. To Fulda. I will try to find out what is going on. But I want you to know I am sorry for whatever this is." Kat reached out to shake his hand. Dave reached across with his left hand. The grip was a bit complicated, but they made contact.

"Sorry about your friend."

"Thanks." Kat stood, hugged Bonnie and left. The boys were still playing basketball. For the love of the game.

Back at her lodge, Kat went straight to her office. Quick check of her email. Just the usual last minute questions from the women arriving Friday. Clothing, check in times. Kat made her replies, then switched to Expedia. The flights were simple. Green Bay to Chicago, Chicago to Frankfurt. It had been over twenty years since she had last taken that flight, but it hadn't changed.

When would she go? Not this week yet. Much as she wanted to jump on a plane and nail the bastards, she needed more research first. And it would not be fair to cancel this weekend's workshop with so little warning. Monday made the most sense. Do her homework, do her workshop, fly out Monday. Round trip? Yes, but when? How long did it take to find a killer? If she flew out on Monday, it would already be Tuesday by the time she arrived in Germany. Could she catch the bastard in time to catch a flight back on Thursday? Not likely.

So, the workshop for the following weekend would need to be cancelled. "Watercolor weekend." Women loved it. The workshop always filled. Kat brought down an art teacher from Escanaba. She was great with women, and said all the right things about the lodge and the location. She would find endless beauty around what was really a very ordinary lake. Cancelling was a tough decision, and very expensive for Kat, but, she didn't really see any alternative.

Not a great way to finish the afternoon. She made the flight one way, called the art instructor and spent half an hour apologizing (and promising to pay the cancellation fee), and then started emailing registrants. Sorry, family emergency. Full refund of their deposit plus a one hundred dollar credit towards any workshop in the future. Twelve emails. Six thousand dollars in lost income, twelve hundred dollars in future losses.

It was early evening before she was done. Kat took a bottle of wine and a block of cheese out to her chair on the lake shore. She drank straight from the bottle and periodically glared around her. If her gun thief was watching, fine. She didn't drink like a lady. And she wouldn't act like a lady if she found out who was behind all this.

Mosquitoes finally drove her inside. She poured out the last wine in the bottle and went to bed.

Chapter 9

Clarisse

Wednesday was towel day. Kat had lost count of how many loads she had done. And drying? Towels took forever. Her first year in operation, Kat had done repeated surveys, and of course monitored Yelp. Reviews were kind. "Beautiful lodge, good food, Kat treated us all so well, loved the lake, loved the workshop, good rooms, could have used another towel, had to ask for another towel, odd there were so few towels, towels yada yada yada."

Kat had bought good quality towels and gave each woman two. Two towels, two nights. Made sense to her. Obviously she had done too many tours in Afghanistan to understand the desperate need for towels. She quickly added a third towel for each woman. Still, not enough. Yelp reviews were consistent. Solution? There was a linen closet on the second floor between the fourth and fifth bedroom. She cleared out everything else, filled it with forty towels, and put a big sign on the door – "Extra towels." Every weekend she damn near went through all forty, but the problem was solved. The problem was solved at the cost of endless laundry.

After a morning of laundry, and another lunch of leftovers, Kat was restless. Jim. Why not have a beer with him now, and invite him over after the bar closed? Seemed like a plan. She changed into one of her sundresses, worked for a while on her hair, and drove her huge van into town.

Jim wasn't alone. It was a bar, so Jim wasn't ever really alone, but he wasn't just pouring beer for half a dozen bored fishermen, he was also serving beer to a woman. A younger woman. Somewhere in her early thirties, but she had the longish blond hair of a younger woman, a sundress in a brighter shade than Kat's, and a smile that encouraged. Right now she was encouraging Jim. He was standing opposite her, leaning across the bar, and paying close attention to anything she had to say. And he was smiling.

Kat walked around behind the bar and kissed him. "Hi." She kept on hand on the side of his face, keeping his head tuned in her direction.

"Hi, Kat." His put his arms around her, his hands quickly sliding down to her ass. He had a nice smile. A smile for her.

"Are you Kat Johnson?"

"Yes." Kat took her time, but eventually she turned from Jim to the woman across the bar. She kept her hand on Jim's face, and was happy that Jim kept his hands on her ass. Good man.

"I'm Clarisse Hansen. I've come up for your workshop this weekend. I was so excited about it, I thought I would come up a couple days early to see the area."

She stretched her right hand across the bar. To shake her hand, Kat had to turn out of Jim's arms, and take her hand off his face. But the woman was one of her guests, so what else could she do? Kat even smiled as she took the woman's hand. Pretty strong grip from the woman, matched by Kat.

"Welcome to Amberg. You know check in is Friday."

"Yes, of course. You email was very clear. So I took a room at the Hilton resort for a couple days. Nice enough place, but I think this is far more interesting. Jim was telling me all about the history of the town. He's quite an expert."

"I'm sure he is." Kat let go of her hand. She wasn't sure what to do next.

"Can I buy you a beer?"

"Yes, thank you." What else could she say? Kat walked back around the bar and took the stool next to Clarisse. "How much of Amberg have you seen so far?"

"This is it. This is such an interesting place, I have been here all afternoon. I walked in, loved the look of the place, and then Jim and I got talking, and well, I'm still here." The woman had a pleasant smile. Easy. Relaxed. Kat wondered if she was in sales. She noticed that while the woman was smiling and talking to her, she also looked at Jim, the smile changing slightly when faced in his direction. Jim brought Kat her beer. Kat sipped it. She was aware that she had a pretty tight grip on the glass.

"Have you been to this part of Wisconsin before?"

"Oh, no. I'm from Waukesha. I have never been farther north than Oshkosh. But I can see now, I really should visit this part of the state more often." Another smile in Jim's direction.

"Yes, it is very nice. Lots of trees." Kat found herself leaning so that her body was partly between Clarisse and Jim. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jim reposition himself, now closer to Clarisse than before. Ugh. And Clarisse was a customer, so Kat felt an obligation to keep smiling.

"Would you like to shoot some pool?" Kat pointed to the table. It seemed a simple way to create some distance between Jim and Clarisse.

"Sure." Clarisse was quickly up and over to the rack of cues on the wall. There was something in her movements. Quick, light, Kat wondered if she was seeing training in ballet or gymnastics. The woman had been taught to move. Her hands seemed to float, her hips and skirt flowed side to side. Half a dozen men who had been staring at the TV or down at their beer now had a new focus to their attention. Kat dug some quarters out of the pocket of her dress, filled the slots and then racked the balls. She thought maybe Jim had looked her way once. Obviously this had been a very bad idea.

It got worse. Kat had spent a million hours shooting pool in O clubs around the world. She was good. Clarisse was better. And it wasn't just that she made her shots, it was how she made them, rising up on her toes, her skirts sliding across her legs, her hair caressing her cheek as she lined up the shot, taking forever to finally shoot, every man in the bar mesmerized. Kat had seen pole dancers get less attention – and move less artistically.

They played eight ball. As Clarisse' solids disappeared and Kat's stripes remained all over the table, Kat felt herself jamming the cue forward, smashing balls against the cushions, missing easy side pocket shots, never setting the cue ball up for the next shot in a series. She looked like an amateur.

Clarisse won easily. Instantly five men slapped quarters on the table. "Next." Clarisse smiled and took on one man after another.

Kat sipped her beer. At least she was at the bar. She was closer to Jim. She gave Jim her best smile. "Tonight?"

Jim shook his head. "I have Morgan coming in at six. I promised I'd watch my boys play baseball tonight. Maybe this weekend?"

"Sure. Sunday works."

Kat left, waving to Clarisse as she pushed open the front door, annoyed when she heard it bang against the wall. Well, doors do that.

Kat drove back to the lodge and spent another evening on the lake shore with two left over chicken legs and a bottle of wine. Jim. Once a week Jim. Her once a week fiancé. She didn't finish the bottle, but she came damn close.

Chapter 10

Clarisse Again

Thursday was bathroom day. Mirrors. You would think toilets would be the most annoying. Not even close. There were brushes, cleansers and flushes for them. Mirrors took work. Some stuff washed off, some stuff seemed glued on. Kat scrubbed. Scrubbed and cursed. She was in a really bad mood.

Oddly, what improved her mood was Socrates. After a lunch of limp spinach salad, she decided to log onto YouTube again to see what national secrets Sergeant Conlon was giving away. The site began with the same cave, same voice, same animations leading down a tunnel. And, there was Sergeant Conlon, standing in a woods.

"Sergeant Conlon, what is this location?" The Socrates face wasn't animated any better than it had been.

"You always ask the best questions, Socrates. Up until 1996 a W54 nuclear device was buried right where I stand."

"Like hell it was." Kat shouted at her computer. "Look around you, idiot. Do any of those trees look like they are just twenty four years old? Those oaks go back centuries. It's obvious. They could not have been planted to cover the device we had buried there. And, fool, I know that was not one of the places where we had anything buried."

"And what was the purpose of that nuclear device?" Socrates continued his questions even as Kat shouted at the Sergeant.

"Such a good question." Conlon waved his arm around him. He paused. Going for dramatic emphasis? Kat wondered if it was possible for her disgust with him to grow. "This beautiful forest, a forest that has stood for centuries would burn. The fire would consume the enemy, and the smoke would hide our retreat."

"Consume?" Kat shouted at the screen. "Consume? Who taught you to use words like that? There's a question Socrates could be asking. Who is writing the words you are saying? You were born a moron, you served your twenty as a moron, and you will die a moron."

"Do you think our cave visitors would like to know more about that fire?" Socrates asked as an animated fire started in the corner of the screen.

"We have so much more to tell them about the fires of Fulda, Socrates. So much more."

Two boxes opened near the bottom of the screen - "Subscribers" and "To subscribe"

Kat backed out of the screens and shut off her computer.

So. Conlon was peddling false information. Is that why he hadn't been arrested? He was telling ugly lies, but they were lies. And easily seen as lies. The U.S. had buried multiple mines. But it was a complicated process. It took a back hoe to make the hole and get the mine down to optimal depth. Heavy equipment takes room -- room to just get to the spot, and then room to make the hole. That was obvious to anyone who knew anything about the devices. They would look at Conlon's lies and laugh.

So he wasn't so dangerous after all. Kat would still beat the hell out of him if she ran into him in Fulda, but it didn't appear he was doing any lasting damage. Any reasonable viewer would see he was spouting obvious lies. Wouldn't they?

Kat heard a knock on the door. "Hello? Katherine?"

Kat walked to the front of the lodge. Clarisse was standing on the other side of her screen door.

"Hello." Kat stood on her side of the screen. It was rude not to open the screen, but, well...

"I have come by to apologize."

Clarisse stood looking at Kat. Kat still hadn't opened the door. She was being really rude, and she knew it. But she didn't want Clarisse in her lodge. The lodge had a long, covered front porch. Kat opened the door and stepped out. She pointed to a glider. They both sat. Kat was wearing jeans and a very old polo shirt. She had spent the morning cleaning toilets and washing mirrors. Clarisse was wearing a sun dress in a bright floral design. Mostly gold and red orchids. One more thing for Kat to feel uncomfortable about.

"Yes?"

"I had no idea Jim was your fiancé. I can understand how it must have looked when you walked in. But really. He was just being a good bartender."

"Apology accepted." Kat kept her eyes straight ahead. She was watching the lake. Not that there was anything to see there. "Thank you for coming all the way out here, but I am really busy cleaning the lodge for this weekend." Kat started to rise.

"Katherine, please. I would like us to be friends." Clarisse took her hand.

"Why Katherine?" Kat finally turned her head toward Clarisse. She also looked down at the hand Clarisse was holding. Kat settled herself again. "Everyone calls me Kat."

"When you were young, they might have called you Kathy or Kate, but neither name works, does it? Not enough Umph. Flaccid. Common. Names for the invisible. I can see 'Kat.' Good name for your playing days. 'And at forward, Kat Johnson.' And everyone cheers. But you are a grown lady now. A successful business woman. 'Katherine' just seems to fit better."

Kat had to smile. "You are right about how I got 'Kat.' A coach gave it to me. As in, 'Get the ball to Kat.' Of course, after that, and for the next twenty years, my first name was lieutenant or captain or major."

"I'll call you anything you want, but when I think of you, I'll be thinking Katherine."

Kat studied Clarisse' face. Interesting face. Beautiful, really. Her smile seemed open and real. And, after all, she was a customer.

"Would you like some lemonade?"

"Sure."

"I'll be back in a few minutes. I also need to change. I have been cleaning bathrooms."

Kat moved pretty quickly. She jumped into the shower, scrubbed the sweat off herself, then put on a sundress of her own, ran a comb through her hair, and did the slightest amount of makeup. She ran to the kitchen barefoot and threw ice cubes, water, and a packet of lemonade mix in a pitcher. She managed to stir it without splashing any, and was back out on the porch within about fifteen minutes.

"What a beautiful dress. You have great taste in clothes." Clarisse reached over and touched the skirt. Kat did feel pretty good about this sun dress. She liked the greens and yellows. If nothing else, she was wearing Packer colors.

"Thank you." She poured Clarisse a glass of lemonade, gave it to her, then poured her own. She managed to sit without spilling any as the glider moved under her.

"I should have noticed your engagement ring yesterday. May I see it?" Kat brought her hand around so Clarisse see the ring. Clarisse took her hand and held it as she looked. "It's beautiful. He has very good taste. Or did you pick it out?"

"No, it was his choice." Clarisse continued to hold Kat's hand. She was looking at Kat's face now.

"May I ask, when's the big day?"

"We are still deciding." Kat looked away. She made an effort to pull her hand from Clarisse. Clarisse wasn't exactly clamped on to it, but she had her fingers around Kat's wrist, Kat's fingers in her palm. She continued to keep it near her face. Kat let her continue to hold it.

Silence. Kat had to have heard fifty lectures on the value of silence during an interrogation. Silence meant expectation. The other person wasn't talking, so it was your job to talk and fill the void. Basic human communication process. Leave enough silence around a suspect, they will tell you anything. Kat knew the theory. And she knew she would fill the silence. She wanted to talk about Jim. In fact she felt desperate to talk about Jim now that she finally had the opportunity.

"Jim was divorced around five years ago. Amiable. He and his wife live separate places, but both are with the boys. Jim and his wife both date, but neither cohabitate. Jim and I have been dating over three years. Engaged since this spring. I have spent some time with his boys, but Jim doesn't want them to have to choose between me and their mother. Maybe when they are older."

"How much older?"

"We are still working that out."

"You are a very patient lady."

"This works for us. He teaches and runs the family bar. I have my business. We are both busy people. We see each other when we have time."

"Well, he seems like a nice man." Clarisse smiled and slowly lowered Kat's hand. She kept holding it, lowering it onto Kat's leg.

"And you?" Kat gave Clarisse her brightest smile.

"No engagements. You are way ahead of me there. Three guys who I thought were headed in that direction. Wrong. But there's other guys." Clarisse smiled. "Do you mind?" She set down her lemonade and pushed a lock of Kat's hair back behind her ear. "I love your hair. Natural color, right?"

Kat nodded. "Your basic brunette."

"Nothing basic about it. You have very nice shading, and blond highlights. I love the way it falls in waves just past your shoulders."

"Thank you. I would compliment yours, but that would be obvious, wouldn't it. You have the hair we all thought we would have at twenty five."

"Thank you." Clarisse's hand was still in Kat's hair. "I know I am a day early, but do you mind showing me the place? And if need be, I can always help with the bathrooms."

"All done." Kat stood and led Clarisse into the lodge.

For the next hour Kat led Clarisse around the lodge. It was a tour she had done many times. Here's a room, here's how it was decorated by the fishing guide who built the place, here's the changes I have made – if any. She gave the usual tour in the usual order, but soon found herself extending some descriptions. It started with the fireplace in the great room.

"The fireplace is massive. All stone. Two stories high. It was originally wood burning. There is certainly enough wood on the property. But wood fires have to be attended, so one of the more recent owners converted to propane." Pause. "Winters are long here, and the sun sets soon after four. This big old place can feel empty. But the fireplace helps. This love seat is perfect. I turn on a reading light, curl up by the fire, and read or listen to music. And the place seems smaller. More intimate."

That switch – to the more personal - continued in the dining room.

"The table is massive and easily seats fourteen or sixteen. And it used to have these huge black leather chairs that looked like thrones. I sold them on eBay and bought these beige fabric covered chairs. Much less intimidating. I found some embroidered material and spent a week sewing those pieces into the table cloth I use. I like the colors. I have this huge kitchen, and I often eat in there, but many nights I will eat in here, the lights low, and a candelabra burning on the table. I like the glow of the candles. There is an aspect to the light that makes everything feel warm."

She took Clarisse into the library. She was aware that Clarisse was holding her hand as they walked through the lodge. She just kept talking.

"As near as I can tell, this was never used as a library. It was where the men smoked cigars and played poker. You can still smell cigar smoke in some corners. But there were books in here. He left about fifty. Several of them taught me some important fly fishing techniques. I had fished a great deal over the years, but now that I was leading workshops, I wanted to make sure I was using the best techniques, teaching all the proper casts. I think maybe women aren't completely sure that a woman can know these things as well as a man. They wonder if maybe a man would do all this better. So I study, and I learn, and I keep trying to improve."

She spent very little time in the kitchen.

"People expect that I will do the cooking. I am a woman, so I will cook. But there really is no time for that. I am out in the field doing workshops all day. So I hired the two women who run the restaurant in town. They take turns cooking our meals on weekends. They need the money, and I am happy to have one less thing to do."

An open staircase connected the great room to the second floor bedrooms. It was a double staircase. You could start up just outside the dining room, or from the bar. The two stairways met in a small landing halfway up, then split again to climb the last six or eight feet to the bedrooms. The six rooms were arranged around a landing at the top of the stairs. Kat and Clarisse stood there for a few minutes, looking down at the great room and out at the lake visible through the windows.

"I use pictures from this location in all advertisements. It looks impressive. It was designed to look impressive. But to me, this looks too much like a view into a hotel lobby. It is big, and open, and grand, but too often empty." Clarisse stood at Kat's side, still holding her hand, not saying a word. Her eyes were always on Kat, always a smile, or a nod of encouragement as Kat talked. She seemed the world's best listener.

Kat took Clarisse through the guest rooms, and showed her which one would be hers. She was tempted to talk about towels, but wasn't sure how Clarisse might take the implied critique of her guests. Clarisse said a few kind words about the rooms, but just a few. A bit of reassurance, then back to attentive listening.

Back down the stairs, Kat showed her where the office was, and then led Clarisse back to her bedroom, a place she never included in tours. She walked straight through the room to the row of windows at the far side, windows that looked out at a grove of poplars just yards away from the lodge.

"I think all previous owners bought the property because of the great room and the lake shore. I wanted it when I stood right here and looked at all that green. I opened a window and heard the leaves rustling. Poplars are noisy. Those big leaves flop against each other. I can hear them all night. Some people like to hear the sound of waves crashing. I love hearing poplars."

Clarisse was standing close, the two of them side by side, looking back into the forest. Neither said a word for a very long time. Finally Clarisse broke the silence.

"Katherine, can I buy you dinner? You accepted my apology, you gave me a tour of the lodge, can I at least repay you with dinner?"

It took Kat a moment to reply. She had been surprised by the offer.

"Sure. I would enjoy that. But we have plenty of food here."

"We will be eating here the next three days. Let's eat at the Hilton."

Kat looked down at her dress. Appropriate for the restaurants at the Hilton?

"Katherine, you look fine. That's a beautiful dress. Very appropriate for a summer evening." As she said that, Clarisse touched Kat at the waist and flounced her skirt out at her hip. "But you will need shoes."

Both women laughed as Kat rummaged around the floor of her closet and came out with a pair of white sandals with a low heel. She held them up for Clarisse to see, then sat on her bed and strapped them on.

Clarisse drove. A newer sedan. It had gps and showed her the back roads to get from the lodge east to the Hilton. They passed a few farms, but mostly it was endless forest. Back roads, little traffic, lots of trees.

The Hilton was on its own island. The Menominee River split and circled about a hundred and fifty acres that contained a large hotel and nine hole golf course. Clarisse took them over the narrow entrance bridge, and parked in the main lot. A garden had been planted adjacent to the golf course, intended to be the site of weddings or receptions. Today it was an open bar, and the women took a table.

They decided it was a good day for pre-dinner margaritas. For reasons she couldn't explain, Kat kept talking. She couldn't remember the last time she had sat and talked to someone like this. Words just kept flowing. The margaritas helped, as did the setting – padded rattan chairs beneath a huge oak tree. Whatever the reason, Kat talked. And talked.

Through the first drink, she talked about Amberg. Not the history. The current Amberg. Who lived there and what they did. The seasons. The crowds during deer season, the busy weekends if there was snow for snowmobiling, the emptiness of the place in April as the snow melted and people stayed home.

When the second drink came, she stopped her endless chattering. She took Clarisse' hand. "Your turn. Tell me about Waukesha."

"I will if you ever visit me there. But now we are in Amberg. Tell me about Amberg."

Kat talked about the old logging roads. Some had been cut a century earlier when the big pines were logged. Now she walked them, or jogged them, or just found a stump and sat. She tried to describe what the woods were like when the first snows fell. She was halfway through a description of trillium – the edge-growing flowers of spring – when she noticed the garden bar was emptying. The sun was setting. Sunlight would quickly be replaced by mosquitoes.

"Time for dinner?" She asked.

Clarisse nodded. They stood. Clarisse straightened her own skirt, then Kat's. She also played a bit with Kat's hair. She stood close and smiled. Then she took Kat's hand and they walked along the building and up to the restaurant.

The Hilton had a long history. Not as a Hilton, but as a criminal enterprise. Al Capone was supposed to be a frequent customer. More recently a city clerk outside Chicago had embezzled millions and put them into upgrades. Stolen money spends just as well as legal money. She had updated and enlarged the hotel. Oak paneling was everywhere. The restaurant was elegant, and intimate. When the city clerk was jailed, Hilton was able to buy a beautiful property.

Clarisse and Kat were seated at a table overlooking the golf course. They sat side by side, shared a bottle of wine, and shared their meals, each giving the other bites of their salmon or walleye. Kat discovered she still hadn't run out of things to say. But now it involved Clarisse – the way she moved. Training? Clarisse talked gymnastics. Hopeful parents, years of training, one medal in floor exercises at a regional competition. Looking back she chose to remember the good aspects – the way it felt to move across the mats, running, jumping, tumbling. And the long rides with the girls in some parent's minivan. Six girls jammed together in the seats, their uniforms and equipment all around them. Good times.

The meal ended, and the moment came.

"Katherine, it is late, and we have been doing a lot of drinking. Rather than trying to take you home, would you mind staying here tonight? I have a large room with two queen sized beds."

Kat nodded, and they started the long walk down the hotel hallway. They had only gone a few steps when they took each other's hand.

Clarisse was right about her room. It was large, and faced the golf course. The sun had set, but light came through the windows from various lamps along the drive. They left the room lights off. Clarisse went to her suitcase and pulled out two night gowns. She placed them on the bed and then stepped around behind Kat.

At first she did nothing. She put her hands on Kat's waist, leaned close, kissed the top of Kat's shoulder. She lingered. She kissed Kat shoulder again, then lowered the zipper on her dress. She had her lips on Kat's shoulder as she did it. Zipper down, she slid Kat's dress over her shoulders and then stopped. Another kiss. This one much longer. She unhooked Kat's bra and slid those straps down over her shoulders as well. Her hands came up to Kat's breasts and her mouth kissed Kat's neck and shoulders. She lingered. Finally she pushed Kat's dress and bra to the floor and pulled a nightgown over her head. Black, satin, long. She stayed behind Kat, holding her, caressing her hips, her side, her breasts.

Then she stopped. She turned Kat around. They faced each other. Kat's turn.

Kat kissed her, and held her tight. While still holding Clarisse to her chest, she reached behind, unzipped her dress, and unhooked her bra. She pulled them down over her shoulders. She stood looking at Clarisse' breasts, then pulled their chests together. She kissed Clarisse's mouth, then her breasts. She dropped her clothes to the floor and pulled the other nightgown over her head. Golden, satin, barely covering her breasts, barely covering her hips.

The stood looking at each other.

"I was hoping you would invite me to your room."

"I've been trying to seduce you all day."

"You had me five minutes after you knocked on my door."

Silence again. Clarisse put her finger tips on the spaghetti straps of Kat's gown, her fingers sliding up to her shoulders, then down to Kat's breasts. Kat put her hands across Clarisse's back and ass. She pulled her tight.

They kissed again, then slid into bed. They lay on their sides, working out where to put their hands and their legs. Kat pushed her thigh between Clarisse' thighs and rolled up onto her. They kissed, and fondled, and Clarisse got her hands deep into Kat's hair. And then she rolled Kat off her and took the top position. She held her face just above Kat's.

"I want you to be my woman, Katherine."

"You're off to a damn fine start."

They wrestled together to the brink of exhaustion, hands, and legs, and mouth going everywhere. And it was Clarisse that did most of the leading, most of the pleasing. Kat settled back into the bed and enjoyed it.

Chapter 11

The Weekend

Clarisse woke Kat before she wanted to be woken, and moved her out of bed before she wanted to leave Clarisse' side.

"I have a lot of things to do today, and I know you have to get ready for guests this afternoon."

As she gave her explanation, she was pulling Kat's nightgown off her and pushing her into the shower. Clarisse was rough with Kat in the shower. She pressed her against the wall, bit her near the base of her neck, held her breasts tight in one hand, and raised her thigh up between Kat's legs, pressing her there until Kat closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure. Clarisse studied Kat's face and felt her breathing move into a series of gasps. She held her in that position, kissed her hard, then quickly washed her and shut off the shower. Kat opened her eyes, her mouth a circle of complaint.

"Other days, Katherine. Other days."

She handed Kat her clothes before she was fully dry. They both dressed quickly and were out the door. The drive to the lodge took less than fifteen minutes. Too little time for Kat to determine what to say. The obvious question – when will I see you again? – was too obvious. She would see Clarisse later that afternoon. The harder question was – what happens when you walk through my door? She didn't ask it. As Clarisse stopped in front of the lodge, Kat did ask if she would stay for breakfast. "No." Quick kiss and she was gone. Kat was baffled.

There had been other women. Every month or so, some woman would linger Sunday afternoon. They would talk. All the other guests gone. Just the two of them. Talking. Sometimes they talked through dinner, the two of them eating left overs at one end of the dining room table. Several times talking lasted through the night. The women generally left after breakfast. One woman had stayed longer, but that hadn't happened since.

Kat understood much of the attraction was the location. She was five ten, the shoulders of a college athlete, a good figure, good hair, deep brown eyes and a decent smile. But there was also the location. They saw the massive lodge, but not the mortgage. They saw the successful business but not the work that went into it. They were briefly smitten, but gone by morning.

Clarisse? Gone by morning. But back that afternoon. Confusing. Very confusing. And if anything, Kat was more confused by herself. She couldn't remember the time she had wanted to be with a person as much as she wanted to be with Clarisse. Wow. Talk about bad timing. In three days she would be flying to Germany. No time for a trip to Waukesha. Even if – and it was a big if – Clarisse wanted her.

Kat made herself some oatmeal and sat at the big table in the kitchen. Time to focus. Friday guests were supposed to arrive after six, but they actually started arriving any time after five. One time she'd even had a lady arrive at four. So Kat ate fast and began her standard Friday agenda. Wine into the cooler under the bar, cheese cut up for snack trays, yet another pass through the guest rooms to make sure bathrooms were spotless. She ran a vacuum over the entire second floor. Last step, print out information about each of her guests so she could greet them by name. She produced a one page cheat sheet with thumb nail photos of each.

She also spent a few minutes in front of her mirror. The sun dress would be fine. Very summer like. Her hair had been blown around a bit, so she took a comb to it. She did a little work around her eyes and added some blush. That would have to do it.

The first guest arrived at five thirty. Early, but not too early. For the next hour she was up and down the stairs, carrying bags to bedrooms, introducing new arrivals, and pouring the first glass of wine. She left an open bottle on the bar as she went for new arrivals. So far so good. Happy women, maybe a bit tired from the drive, but pleased with the lodge and quick to refill their wine glass. Clarisse arrived with the other guests and seemed to disappear into the group. Okay. That kept thing simple.

When the last guest had arrived, Kat gave them the grand tour – out to the garage to show where they would be working, then to the lake, a short walk along the shore, then a walk along the side of the lodge to an old oak they would be cutting up. Oak blight had taken the three oaks on the property. Dead several years, their bark was already falling off. She had taken down the one closest to the lodge (she thought it would be an attractive workshop project, but only three women had signed up). This would be the tree that would provide the weekend treasures. The trunk lay about two feet off the ground, held up by a mass of branches crushed under the weight of the trunk. Kat pointed out its eighteen inch diameter – perfect for the top of an end table, and its grain – perfect for any wall décor they chose. She stepped aside so women could get a good look and touch the base of the trunk. The women also took lots of pictures. They would want it known this was the tree they had cut apart for their projects.

Back in the lodge they had another glass of wine and did introductions. It seemed a good group. Women from mid-thirties to early fifties. All of them large enough so that managing heavy tools would not be too much of a burden. They moved to the dining room for dinner, and had a great time laughing at the huge musky mounted behind Kat's chair, and the silly antler chandelier over the table. It gave Kat a chance to tell the history of the lodge.

After dinner, they regrouped in the great room. Kat passed out short instruction guides – here's how to make an end table, here's how to burn in designs for wall hangings. The ladies seemed split about in the middle over which project they preferred. Kat answered questions about the projects, and about the tools they would use. By ten, some of the women started drifting up to their rooms. They had driven for hours and felt the strain.

Kat hoped all of them would go up early. She needed sleep too, but two of the women seemed to want to linger. And talk about the shooting.

"Did you know the officer who was shot?" This lady might have been the oldest in the group. Fifty five for sure. Gray hair that she made no effort to color, a waist that suggested at least three kids.

"Yes. He lived east of town, and had been on the force many years."

"And his wife killed the gunman?" Another older lady. Carefully colored hair, and some effort to keep her weight down. Kat thought back to the short bio each woman had submitted with their application. She thought this one was an attorney. Job information wasn't required on the form. This lady added it. A point of pride.

"Bonnie hunts every year and is a good shot. But you have to give her credit, don't you? A man is coming at them with gun raised ready to shoot. He has already shot her husband twice. She takes her husband's gun and puts two in the man's chest."

"Good for her." The two older ladies had much more to ask about the shooting and about the other man who was killed. The conversation probably lasted another half hour before the women tired out and headed for the stairs. As they stood to leave, Kat noticed a third woman seated near the windows. Clarisse.

Kat followed the older ladies upstairs and asked if anyone needed anything. There was one call for an extra blanket, one for an extra towel. She pulled both out of a closet, wished them all a good night, and took the stairs down to the great room. Clarisse stood at the bottom.

"Katherine, you do this so well. I am impressed."

"Thank you. Would you like..." Kat looked over her shoulder in the direction of her bedroom.

"I think I'll blend in with the crowd. But that's a lovely offer." She wrapped her arms around Kat's neck and kissed her. Kat put one hand on her back and another on her ass and held her tight. "You're favorite position."

"I like holding you."

"There will be other times." Clarisse smiled and slowly pulled away. Kat watched her climb the stairs, her skirt swinging. Clarisse paused at the top and smiled down at Kat. Then she was off to her room.

It seemed a long walk to Kat's bedroom. And frustrating on many levels. Tease. That seemed to summarize Clarisse' kiss and climb up the stairs. Tease. Kat wondered how she had let herself get into this position. It was frustrating, and even a bit embarrassing. Kat got into bed. It had been a long day. She should have dropped right off to sleep. She didn't.

Saturday was the big day. The most dangerous day. Kat needed compete focus. No time to think about Germany or Waukesha. But as anxious as Kat might be, she had to ensure she never communicated any unease. Stress didn't help anything. The response that seemed to work best, was to go slow. She tried to not rush anything. She didn't even list a time for meals. This was a three day vacation for guests. They would get up when they were ready, and eat when they wanted. Nevertheless, they were all down to breakfast by seven thirty. They were pretty excited. They would be using some serious tools and producing works they would be proud of. Kat's one requirement was the dress code - jeans and short sleeves – and all hair pulled back and under a hat, but she made a real effort to slow things down at breakfast. She wanted everyone relaxed.

Lois laid out a good meal – eggs, toast, fruit cups and coffee. Familiar foods. They sat around the dining room table, joked about the mounted fish again, and talked about whatever project they had in mind.

After everyone had eaten – and relaxed – Kat led them outside and to their oak tree. She had the chainsaw sitting on the ground where they could see it. This was the third time she had groups cutting on this tree, so she had a pretty good idea where to put people so they could see and take pictures, and still be safe. She showed them where they would stand, and then picked up the chainsaw.

"If you are making an end table, you will want a slice about two inches thick. If you are making a wall decoration, one inch should do it, but there is nothing wrong with being a bit thicker. We have plenty of tree." She paused so they could laugh. Several did. All smiled. It mattered. The saw was noisy, heavy, and dangerous. Care was good. Fear was not.

"You will each make a cut. If it comes out like you wish, great. If it doesn't, no problem. You can just make another slice. Now, watch how I pick up the saw, and how I hold it." Kat bent over, took the top arm in her left hand, and the handle in her right, and lifted the saw. She then positioned herself next to the trunk and lowered the chain onto the wood.

"You will stabilize the saw, but not push it. The chain will slowly drop through the trunk. See these teeth here? She pointed to the jagged steel plate at the bottom of the motor. "Rest that on the trunk, and the saw does the work. Don't push. Just stabilize. The chain will slowly drop through the trunk, and your slice will fall to the ground. When it does, just set the saw on the ground and you are done. Clear?" She had twelve heads watching her move. Good.

While the saw was still off, she had each woman pick up the saw, place it on the trunk, show how she would set the angle for a straight cut, and then put the saw back on the ground. A couple comments on how heavy the saw was, but no obvious fear or hesitation.

"If any of you are uncomfortable using the saw, I can understand that. This is not a home garden saw. It is the model most of the loggers use around here. The thing is big and noisy and smelly. Just say you pass, and I will cut your slice for you. You can still make your project for the weekend. If you want pictures, I suggest one person stand on the far side and take pictures for everyone. One camera. You can text the images to everyone later. Okay? We don't want a lot of movement once we start." One of the older women took a wide path around the trunk to get to the far side. Kat suspected she would stay there and not use the saw herself. That happened. Usually two or three women chose not to. Better that than panicking with the saw in their hands.

"The box there has safety glasses, ear protection, and several leather aprons. Put that all on, and we will get started." Kat made sure she put on the safety gear as well, and then checked each of the women to ensure they were wearing it. Time to start.

Stihl saws have a flat area at the bottom of the handle to place a foot while pulling on the cord to start the motor. Kat put her foot in position, started the saw, and then left it on the ground so all could get used to the sound. It wasn't too noisy as it idled. She gave it a minute to warm up, then picked up the saw, raised it over the trunk, and pulled back on the trigger to increase the power. She was watching the saw and the trunk, but she could feel women moving back from her. Fine. A certain amount of caution. She brought the chain down onto the trunk and adjusted the angle of the bar as the chain began to cut. Even with a good saw and sharp chain, oak doesn't cut fast. She took her time, emphasized resting the lower teeth on the trunk, and slowly dropped the bar through the log. When her slice dropped from the trunk, she let go of the throttle and set the saw on the ground.

"Questions?" She checked facial expressions while she waited. More interest than concern. Good. "Who's next?"

Three women had the leather aprons on. Obviously they were ready. They came forward one at a time, slowly raised the saw, and made their slice. No apparent hesitation, no fear. Great examples to the others. They stepped back, passed their leather apron to any woman with an outstretched hand, and the cutting continued.

As the women made their slices, Kat stayed behind them a foot or so. Close enough to help if needed, but far enough back to be out of the way. She had no idea what her heart rate was, but it had to be up there. If one of the women panicked and dropped the saw it could take her leg off. She reminded herself these were middle aged women, not kids. They were patient. They were safe. They followed instructions. Still, Kat stood on the balls of her feet, ready to jump in if needed.

She wasn't. Each woman made a slice. Some thicker, some thinner, and some more even than others, but each woman cut. They took their time, set the chain, used the lower teeth to brace the saw, slowly lowered the chain into the oak. Saw dust flew back at them, and there was that overwhelming smell of cut oak – almost the smell of vomit. The women stood, made the cut, and then slowly put the saw in the ground. Kat was curious about the picture taker, but she came around the trunk too, gave her camera to another one of the women, put on the apron and made her slice.

Clarisse? She waited to the end to do her cut. She took her place at the log like all the other women. Except. The woman had moves. The woman who had done flips and turns and hand stands picked up the saw slowly as all the other women had, yet she looked like she was taking part in a ballet. Every part of her body moved to bend, lift, and position the saw, moving as if she were lifting a child's toy – or a child, her right hand swooping in toward the handle like she was about to pick up and caress a baby. Her head and neck remained still as she cut her slice, her back suddenly larger under her shirt, her cut straighter than any of the others, a slight smile on her face. Casual. Effortless. It was actually beautiful to watch. She set the saw on the ground, and then gave Kat a quick smile. It said, yes, I know you were watching, and I know you loved it. Several women applauded as Clarisse stepped away from the tree.

Clarisse was last, so when she set the saw on the ground, Kat shut it off. All the women had made their cut. They were done. The women cheered. Maybe a small thing, but they had used a chainsaw. Not some backyard hedge trimmer, but a real chainsaw like loggers used. They had cut a section from a huge tree trunk. So they cheered. It reminded Kat of a new group of soldiers, back from their first time on patrol. They had heard about it, they had seen others do it, now they had done it themselves. Pride. Earned pride from a real accomplishment.

The women picked their slice of oak off the ground, all commenting on the weight of "their" slice, but obviously proud of themselves. Kat went around to each woman to comment on the quality of each slice, and hugging each woman. She made sure to note that this was the first time she had every woman do her own cutting.

Congratulations done, Kat asked if any of the women wanted to cut some branches to be used as table legs. Three hands went up instantly. This was going to be a good group. Kat restarted the saw and showed the best way to take a branch, trimming the end, and then taking the branch as it met the trunk. After taking two branches, she put the saw on the ground and let the first woman pick it up and start trimming. By the time all three were done, they had far more branches than they needed, but that was fine. It's not like they were limited for trees or branches. Kat shut off the saw and it was back to the garage to complete their projects.

They stayed busy until after four. Kat had to force them to take fifteen minutes for a sandwich and lemonade at noon. Then they were back out to the garage.

To help the women who wanted a wall hanging, Kat had metal templates they could use to guide their wood burning pens. Two of the women burned free hand and did a spectacular job. Real artistry. Clarisse worked with the wood burners. She seemed to disappear into the crowd again, talking with her table partner. Kat looked her way and got an occasional smile. Kat's main attention went to the women doing end tables. The end tables took more branch cutting and then turning on a lathe to get an even one inch round end to insert in the bottom of the oak slice they had cut. And they had to drill three evenly spaced holes for the legs, but most of it was done by early afternoon. What took until four? Sanding. Some by hand, some by orbital sander. Kat went through a mountain of sand paper.

Kat spent most of the day with the machines – the lathe and drill press and power saw. But that finished fairly early so she was able to spend a lot of time taking pictures – some on her phone, some on whatever the guests handed her. This was a day they would be describing in detail – and with pride.

Problems? Abrasions from the sand paper and burns from the wood burning irons. Nothing serious. The legs didn't always fit well in the holes cut in the table top. The images being burned didn't always come out the way women had hoped. Some things had to be redone, but with care and adjustments they ended up with projects that would be fit to take home and display.

Kat was more concerned about fatigue than anything else. It was July, and even in northern Wisconsin, July days can get hot. And they were working pretty hard. Kat started a small bonfire near the lake around four and served cheese, wine, and lemonade. She also had everyone drink at least two glasses of water before they drank anything else. Kat had chairs around the fire and noticed women leaned back into their chairs as they drank and talked. It had been time to rest.

Evening was dinner, more time around the campfire (with marshmallows), and lots of texting pictures back and forth. And she suspected a lot of texts were already going back to families. Kids mostly, would be Kat's guess. Look what your old mother did today. But by nine the women had retreated back into the lodge, first to the great room, and then up to their rooms. It had been a full day. Not even Clarisse stayed behind to talk. They were all tired, happy, and ready to sleep.

Kat spent an hour sweeping out the garage, and then gathering up coffee cups and wine glasses. But her day was over by eleven. She washed up quickly and dropped into bed.

She was sound asleep when she felt the bed move. Clarisse was sitting on the side of the bed wearing her tiny yellow nightgown.

"I thought you might like this souvenir."

She held out the black nightgown Kat had worn at the Hilton. Kat normally slept in a long t-shirt. She took that off and pulled on Clarisse' nightgown. Clarisse slid in next to Kat, then climbed on top of her. She played with Kat's hair and pressed her with her thighs.

"I'm pleased you came to me tonight."

"Shh. I want to hear your poplars." She laid her head down next to Kat's, lying motionless for a long time. Kat felt that warm, soft body on hers, and began sliding her hands over Clarisse' ass. "Lie still." Clarisse took Kat's hand and held it. She lightly kissed Kat's ear, and slowly moved her thigh against Kat, but she wouldn't let Kat hold her or caress her or move. Tease. She was teasing at a whole new level.

"Will you stay with me tomorrow night?"

"No. I need to go somewhere. Now stop talking. I am here to listen to your trees." She kissed Kat's ear, stroked her hair, and slid her thigh. Kat was to lie still and let her do it. She settled back into her bed. Clarisse felt marvelous. And then she was gone. Back up to her room.

Sunday was a funny day. It could go either way. Whatever the activity, some women wanted to stay on task. They were determined to achieve more and better. Other women wanted a free day. For them, long meals, and walks along the lake were their preference.

Sunday Lois always made blueberry pancakes. She brought out tray after tray. It extended breakfast. They sat around the dining room table, ate, thought they might be done, but another tray of pancakes arrived, and, well, maybe one more. Breakfast lasted until after nine.

Kat made it clear she would be in the garage to help all who wished to do more work, but there were canoes parked along the lake if people wanted to take them out, or pictures to take if guests just wanted to walk the lake road. About half chose the garage, and half took a walk along the lake.

Lunch was served on picnic tables on the lawn. Brats and potato salad. It was Wisconsin. It was a picnic. Brats were practically required. Lunch lasted until nearly two, not because they wanted more food, but because they wanted more talk. Kat talked about the history of the lodge and the history of the town, and yes, answered a couple questions about the shooting. Others talked about their project or their family. Time passed at a leisurely pace.

And then guests decided it was time to go home. Not a rapid activity. There was time back in the room packing and taking out to the car. Time in the garage to gather up projects. Several women even decided they needed to help clean. Once everyone got to the general vicinity of the cars, there were yet more pictures, hugs, comments, checks on email and text connections, and yet more picture sharing amongst the picture taking. It was easily an hour before the first car headed south. But once it left, others followed.

Kat stood in the drive through the entire process, hugging, talking, waving as cars backed out to the road. Clarisse was the last to leave. She loaded her car, waved as others left, and then came to Kat for a big hug. With one of her arms tight around Kat, she raised the other and ran her fingers through Kat's hair.

"I love your hair – the color, the texture, the wave it makes along your cheek." She looked at her fingers in Kat's hair, and then kissed Kat on the lips. And held it. Clarisse held her face close to Kat and gave her a huge smile. "I love kissing you."

"Do you need to leave?"

"There is time for you to grab my ass and hold me tight, and then I need to go."

"When will I see you again?"

"Soon."

"I will be in Germany next week. Can you visit the week after that?"

"I will visit you soon. Let's leave it at that." She turned Kat and pressed her back against her car. Even though she was shorter than Kat, she raised herself up and pushed Kat's head back, holding it with both hands. She looked down into Kat's face. "I have to see you again. You're my woman." She kissed Kat and held her in that position. Kat looked up at her.

"I will like that."

Clarisse looked down at Kat with a huge smile on her face.

"We will be good together, Katherine. Just wait and see." Clarisse kissed her again and stared into her eyes. When she saw what she wanted, she smiled and stood.

"See you soon." She turned, got in her car, and drove away.

And then it was over. Kat stood outside the lodge watching tail lights bend around the lake road and then disappear. She was alone.

The weekend was over. She suddenly felt vulnerable. A single woman with no other house within miles. No one to hear anything or see anything. No weapons. Someone out there. They had killed Charlie. They had taken her guns. Now what? Rather than duck back into the lodge, she took a step out across the drive. Want me? Here I am. She stood for ten minutes. Shoulders back. Head up. Watching. Well?

When nothing happened, she went back inside. Laundry. Twelve beds to strip, at least six loads of laundry before Jim arrived.

She was stripping the beds in the third bedroom when she saw the oak plaque on the dresser. Nicely done. Smooth sanded, the message burned with a flourish. Beautiful female script.

"See You Soon"

There was a pattern of loops and curls around the edges. Interesting design. Real artistry. Near the bottom, in tiny letters she read

"Your weapons are in the canoe."

She put down the plaque and slowly walked out to the lake and the two canoes pulled up on the shore. She had an old green tarp in the bottom of one. Both rifles and her pistol were wrapped inside. All three were still loaded. The plaque had been in Clarisse' bedroom.

Chapter 12

Jim

So, Clarisse. Soon. In Germany. On the train. Kat carried the weapons into the garage, unloaded the rifles, and put them in the gun safe. The pistol she put on top of her dresser. Done. Well, done with the weapons. Apparently not done with Clarisse. There would be an interesting conversation – soon. In the meantime? Laundry.

One load into the washer, and then back upstairs to finish stripping the beds. Sheets in a pile by the washing machine, and then back up. Towels. Three per woman plus extras they had taken from the hall closet. It took her three trips just to get them all to the laundry room. Lots of loads and forever in the dryer. But that was started. Laundry would go on auto-pilot now.

Next. To the office computer. Clarisse Hansen. Kat looked back at the reservation. One of the later ones, but not the latest. A little over two weeks ago. No problems with the credit card. Simple bio in the application. Grade school teacher in Waukesha. Loved doing crafts on weekends. Single. Wisconsin native. Was any of that true? No. Was any of that useful? Yes. She had signed up for the weekend two weeks ago. Before Charlie was killed. They knew he was coming. They knew he wanted to talk with her. "They." Who the hell were "they"?

And Clarisse? Friend or foe? She'd had multiple opportunities to kill Kat in her sleep. She hadn't. But that didn't necessarily make her a friend. She might want something first. If she wanted Kat to be completely confused, she had certainly achieved that. Why the seduction? Why take the workshop? She didn't seem to need an end table. She did seem to need to show off. Arrogant. The checkbook note, the wooden plaque message. It wasn't enough for her to dance around Kat, she had to laugh at Kat as she did it. If they were third graders, Clarisse would be the one with her tongue out. Why?

And in Germany? Clarisse would find Kat. There would be a meeting. For some purpose. Some purpose that made sense to Clarisse. Would Kat benefit in any way? Kat had two goals in Germany – beat the hell out of Sergeant Conlon, and find the man who killed Charlie. Was Clarisse someone who could help her, or would she just distract her. Friend or foe? Friend or foe or distraction? Life would be so much simpler if she was still working for the NSA.

But Kat wasn't any more. No more access to classified folders. She was an innkeeper. An innkeeper buried in laundry. First load out of the washer and into the dryer. More sheets for the washer.

Kat had the sheets done and back on the beds before Jim arrived. Every bed made before Jim arrived. Every bed. Before Jim. Nearly eleven. What happened to closing early? He gave no explanation or apology. He had his deer rifle with him. It was a bit clumsy as he came through the door. He went to hug Kat, but had a heavy rifle in one hand. Put it down? But where? She had him leave it by the door.

Kat led him to the couch facing the lake. It wasn't much of a lake, but the moon was reflecting off it. The lake looked as good as it was ever going to look. Jim stopped.

"Shouldn't we sit farther from the windows? And shouldn't we keep the lights off?"

"I don't think she's ready to shoot me yet." Kat pulled him down on the couch and then slid her legs over his.

"She?"

"The woman who took my guns was here for the weekend. Gave her name as Clarisse Hansen. Not her real name, I'm sure of it. You met her a couple days ago. Hot young woman. Best pool player in your bar. Remember?"

"Kat, we get about five women a month in the bar. I remember them."

"She got up here sometime last week. Maybe before Charlie was killed, maybe after. One more question I would love to ask her."

She was resting her shoulder on Jim, looking out the window but no longer seeing the moonlight. Jim was staring at her.

"Charlie. How well did you know him? We're talking about the man who was killed at Dave's Falls, right?"

"Charlie was my battalion commander in Germany. He was Major Brandt at the time. A good guy."

"How good?" Jim had a hand to Kat's face, forcing her to look at him.

"If you are going to be jealous about a man I knew twenty years ago, I expect an arm around my shoulders and a hand sliding under my skirt."

"Yes, Major." Jim put his hands where she told him.

"Go easy on the 'Major' stuff. I've been out four years."

"But a colonel was coming to see you, and not because you are a civilian."

"Yes, it's pretty obvious he was coming here. But I have no idea why. And no, it was not to rekindle a romance. He was never like that with me. He may have been the only superior officer I had who didn't try to get into my pants."

"So, what made him a good guy?"

"I was new. New to life outside of college. New to Europe. New to being an officer. Hell, new to being an adult. Every day was a challenge. I had ROTC behind me, and OCS, so I knew ranks and responsibilities and all the words you are supposed to know. But the first time you stand before your platoon you just hope you don't puke all over yourself."

"And Charlie helped."

"Nobody used the term 'mentor' twenty years ago, but Charlie was my mentor. He held my hand without ever holding my hand, if you know what I mean."

"How long did you work with him?"

"Two years."

"In Germany?"

"Yes. In Fulda. Nice place. Very nice." Kat paused. There were limits to what she could say, but there were things she wanted Jim to know. "But we weren't there for the city. We were there because it had been on the border with East Germany and was supposed to be a prime invasion route if the Soviets ever came at us."

"And you were to stop the Russians."

"Not personally. I was an MP. A military cop. We were there to guard supplies. Special supplies. A battalion of us – nearly five hundred military cops."

"To guard the tanks?"

"No. Well, yes, we did guard tanks too. But Fulda was special. There was a fence between the two Germanys, and mines. Some of the mines were nukes. All the details are classified, just like I told the FBI."

"But you handled nuclear weapons."

"The Soviets outnumbered us three to one. The strategy was to put up a short defense, then back away. Their tanks fill the gap and..."

"And what about the locals? Fulda."

"They never knew."

"And they would be..."

"Some, yes."

"Jesus, Kat. So you live in the town, you know the people, and you know they could be vaporized."

"By the time I got there the threat was over, and we were taking the nukes out. My battalion was guarding the extraction teams."

"Good. The nukes are gone. The locals live in peace. But now, twenty years go by, and suddenly your former commander wants to see you. And is killed trying. Why?"

"Honestly, Jim. I don't know." Kat put one hand on his cheek, her turn to hold his head. She wanted his complete attention. "I don't know." And she felt him move, actually drawing away from her. The arm around her shoulders drew back.

"Kat, I know there are many things we will never share. I wasn't in the Army, you weren't in the Peace Corps. We didn't teach together. Our connection is just a few years in this tiny town. But you have just added a whole new layer of differences. Nukes?"

"All I did was set perimeters, sequence guard schedules, and block roads. But yes, I was doing that as we were excavating nuclear mines. We were getting them out of Germany, and making it safe to live in that pretty little city."

"And now?"

"Now something has happened. I don't know what. I am going to Germany to find out."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. I could use a ride to Green Bay, by the way."

"You'll be coming back..."

"I have no idea. I will do what I can, and then I will come back. Maybe a few days. Maybe longer."

"And your business here?"

"Nukes, Jim. I have to find out if we did something wrong with the nukes. It was my job. My responsibility. Everything else waits."

"Yes." He looked at Kat and put his hand back on her leg. "I get that."

Kat got up off him and took his hand. She led him into her bedroom and undressed him. She stood and let him undress her. That was important. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, his touch as he unzipped her dress and unhooked her bra. She wanted to know how close he would stand and how tenderly he would touch her. He dropped her clothes on the floor and pulled her tight against him. He held her tight. And long. He had an athlete's muscles and stamina. She leaned her head against his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

"We have a connection, Jim. You feel it. I feel it. We will have decades together to build it." She slid into bed and pulled him on top of her.

Chapter 13

Clarisse Yet Again

They didn't have much to say to each other in the morning. Well, they talked, but it was trivial. Just words. Just going through the motions. They climbed over each other in bed, and pushed each other pretty hard in the shower, but that almost seemed like echoes of things they had done before. This is morning, so we will kiss. This is a shower, so we will scrub each other. The first "real" moment came when Jim zipped up Kat's sundress. He was facing her, reaching around behind her to get her zipper. He pulled it up, then wrapped his arms around her and held her. He didn't say a word. He just held her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he stroked her hair. They stood in each other's arms for ten minutes or so. Then they let go, him to make breakfast, her to pack.

Just before leaving, Kat had enough time to email an old friend at Fort Meade. Going to Fulda. Meeting someone who might interest you. Old habit. It never hurt to leave a trail.

The drive to Green Bay took an hour. Jim's truck was loud. The cab was quiet. She sat close enough to take his hand from time to time. He kissed her when they got to the airport. They each promised to call. She pulled her overnight bag from the back of his truck and walked to check-in.

Flights? About an hour down to OHare, then three hours in a restaurant, then eight hours in a wide-body. Ten across seating. A family of four, her, and a family of five. A little girl talked to Kat for a while, then fell asleep. Kat watched a couple movies, ate two meals, and dozed a bit. There are people who accomplish things on flights – serious reading or business projects. Kat wasn't one of them. She gave some thought to Clarisse, and some thought to the old days in Fulda, but couldn't find anything to focus on.

Fulda was too long ago. Iraq had happened since. And far too much happened in Afghanistan. And that endless period at Fort Meade, waiting for her enlistment to end at twenty so she could move on with her life.

What would she do in Fulda? Look for Sergeant Conlon, talk with Clarisse, maybe track down this Socrates guy, and see if any of that led to Charlie's killer. Pretty vague as action plans go. But that's all she had.

The plane landed at dawn, Frankfurt time, one a.m. Amberg time. She remembered enough German to follow signs and buy tickets, but every sign was in both German and English. And this was a route she had taken before. Short train ride from the airport to the main station in Frankfurt (huge, noisy, ugly), a fifty minute wait for the Fulda train while the local junkies prowled, then off to Fulda.

It was now after 2 a.m. Amberg time, and Kat was drifting off to sleep.

"Katherine. I have been looking all over the train for you. The bagels in this country suck, but I was able to find one and a cup of coffee for you."

Clarisse dropped into the seat next to Kat, handed her a paper bag, and kissed Kat on the lips. Clarisse was wearing a sun dress in a lemon yellow print. And her hair was different. Shorter. She had cut it so that it just reached her chin, and bleached it even blonder than before. Parted in the middle, it was like two halves of a lemon closing down on each side of her face. The face wore a huge smile and a fair amount of makeup. She didn't look like a lady who had just taken an eight hour flight. Had she taken an earlier plane? She looked rested and happy and ready to play.

"I wish you weren't so seriously Catholic. Really. Fulda? Berlin will be so much more fun. We should have gone straight there." She smiled at Kat and waited. For anyone who might be watching, she had just established their relationship, their destination, and their goal. Kat could either play along, or not. Kat had lots to say to Clarisse, but it made little sense to air it all in public. There would be another time. For the moment, Kat decided to go along with whatever charade Clarisse was creating.

"It's a famous cathedral. Now let me sleep."

"No, silly. You need to stay awake. It's the only way to beat jet lag. Drink your coffee and eat at least some of the bagel." She opened the bag for Kat and handed her the coffee cup. Kat took a few swallows, and then Clarisse took the cup from her and finished the coffee. They were making their relationship clear to all who might care. They were a couple. Tourists exploring Europe hand in hand. Kat played along. She ate part of the bagel and gave the rest to Clarisse.

Over the next hour they talked about the flight and complained about all the stops the train made. Basic tourist talk. Clarisse took Kat's hand from time to time, and played with her hair. Kat let her do it, watching her carefully to see what Clarisse might be thinking. Clarisse just smiled happily. She seemed to be having a great time.

The main train station in Fulda hadn't changed much that Kat could see. There was a new McDonalds outside the entrance, and they laughed about that as American tourists might. There was a line of cabs at the curb, but Clarisse led Kat past them. Both women had light overnight bags they carried over their shoulders. They passed half a dozen tourists dragging huge suitcases on rollers. All were headed toward the older part of town –alte stadt – and the pedestrian mall.

A block before the mall Clarisse pulled Kat into a small apartment building. She lived up two flights of stairs. She led the way, her skirt flowing back and forth, almost in Kat's face. Half way up the stairs, Clarisse stopped, turned, and grinned at Kat.

"Like the view?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She climbed the last stairs and led the way into the apartment. Kat stayed by the door, her overnight bag on the floor. The place was tiny. Couch, table, bed, kitchenette, bathroom. Clarisse strode to her bed, and slowly undressed. She watched Kat, a satisfied smile on her face as she took off her sundress, and then carefully hung it in the closet. Next came her bra and panties, both dropped in a hamper. Taking her time, moving with her gymnast's grace, always checking to see if Kat still watched, always smiling to see Kat was paying attention.

The main event was a yellow satin nightgown. She carefully lifted it from her dresser, raising it as if it were precious, then sliding her arms through and dropping the gown over her head, the satin shimmering as it flowed slowly over her breasts and then her hips. She kept her hands in the air as the nightgown settled over her hips and ass. Poised near the bed, she tilted her head and leered at Kat.

"This was always my final pose when I had crossed the mat at the end of my floor exercise routine. I would hold my hands high, but I knew the judges would be just like you – watching the hem of my skirt make that final move as it settled around my hips. They had to hide their reactions, but I know they were just as hungry for me as you are."

"Nice show, but we need to talk." Kat was still standing with her back to the door, her hands at her side.

"What shall we talk about?" Clarisse slowly swung her arms down to her side, and then crossed the room, looking like she was still performing, her weight on the balls of her feet, her hips rotating, her arms floating at her side. She walked right up to Kat, her chest against Kat's, her face, a huge smile, inches from Kat's.

"Let's start with the basics. Who are you really, and what do you want?"

"You know what I want." Clarisse raised a hand to Kat's hair. Kat grabbed her wrist and held it. Clarisse's other hand went to the small of Kat's back and pulled the two of them together. Kat put a hand on her shoulder to push her off. It was then she noticed how solid that shoulder was, and how tightly Clarisse was holding herself to Kat.

"I know you're not really a grade school teacher. Who are you?"

"You have my name. I am Julie Ames. And, there was a time when I taught grade school. Waukesha, Wisconsin, of all places."

"And now?"

"I work for Socrates."

"Get dressed and take me to him."

"Tomorrow. He promised I could have you for a day."

"I want to see him today."

"Katherine, your body temperature is up, and your pupils are dilated. You want me every bit as much as I want you. I will get you to Socrates, and get you anything else you want in Fulda. You get to be a responsible adult. Tomorrow. Today it is you and me enjoying ourselves." Clarisse was backing away as she talked, pulling Kat with her. Kat could see that Clarisse was strong. She also knew she wasn't putting up much resistance.

It was only about four steps to the bed. Clarisse pulled her down onto it. Kat kicked off her shoes, and got under the covers. They wrestled a bit, trying to find the right position for arms and legs, ending up with Clarisse on top, holding Kat much as she had back at the Hilton.

"Tomorrow, Katherine, all your questions will be answered. Today, you just lay back, let your hands do what hands do, and enjoy being with me. To start with, you are jetlagged and exhausted. Sleep. I will hold you and protect you. Sleep."

Clarisse lay her head down next to Kat, kissed her cheek, and made slow easy motions through Kat's hair. She whispered a few things in her ear, and kissed her now and then, but Kat was in fact exhausted after the flight and the travel to Fulda. She found her eyes closing. She was tired. But she also knew her eyes were closing because she trusted Clarisse. At some level, there was trust.

It was dark when the two of them woke. Kat was holding Clarisse's shoulders. Clarisse was lying across her, her hands as they had been, both slowly stroking Kat.

"Katherine, we are lovers. Aren't we?"

"I thought we were in Amberg. Here? Maybe. We still have some things to work out."

"I think we're lovers. You are just stubborn." Clarisse raised herself over Kat, her face directly above her. Her new, shorter blond hair hung just an inch or two on each side of her face. "Tell me you love me, and move your body against mine. Slide your hands along my shoulders. You want me to feel you. Bring your face to mine, and kiss me." Kat did both.

"Now tell me you love me."

"Clarisse, I love you."

"Now tell me how to please you. When I bring my hands across your body, would you rather I stroke your ass or your breast?"

"My breast."

"I thought so. I think most women like that more." Clarisse moved her hand from Kat's thigh to her breast and slowly drew circles around it. She kissed Kat again, and then held her head close so Kat could kiss her in return. It was a much longer kiss.

"Now, tell me more about you. I'm curious, Katherine. Tell me more about your lodge. How did you ever find it out in the middle of nowhere?

"My brother knew the place was for sale. He suggested I take a look."

"And the business idea?"

"My brother's university has outdoor programs for women. I just expanded upon the idea."

The two women studied each other's face. Both kissed the other lightly, and then waited to be kissed. Time passed as they felt each other's hands. Kat slid her thigh between Clarisse's thighs and pressed it against her. Clarisse smiled when she felt it.

"Your turn, Clarisse. You took my guns. How?"

"Simple. You and Jim made such a racket. I found the one in the kitchen, ate some leftover chicken, and fell asleep on your couch, all while you were driving your headboard against the wall. You like rough sex, don't you. Then you two in the shower. Wow. You are going to have to practice some of those moves on me. I got your rifle and pistol out of your bedroom with ease."

"Why?"

"I wanted you to know you were safe."

"Safe? How could I be safe? You just took my protection."

"Whoever took your weapons could have easily killed you. They didn't. So, clear message. No harm will come to you. Or would you rather I just left a note on your dresser?"

"Why were you even there? Did you help kill Charlie?" Kat braced her legs, ready to flip herself around and get on top of Clarisse. Clarisse moved even faster to kick Kat's legs back.

"I'm a gymnast, Katherine. Don't try anything. I can move much faster than you."

"Just tell me if you helped kill Charlie."

"No. I got to Amberg too late to help Charlie. I didn't think they would come after you too, but I stuck around to be sure."

"You were going to protect me?"

"Sometimes gymnasts get some additional training."

Kat stared up at Clarisse. She was either looking up at a liar, or a woman who was more complicated than she had thought. Kat wasn't ready to decide which was true.

"Tell me who killed Charlie."

"I would love to, but Socrates wants to do that."

"Good. Let's go." Kat pushed up her hips.

"Patience, my love. The meeting is set for tomorrow evening. Dinner and dancing no less."

"I don't want dinner or dancing. I want to find Charlie's killer. Not the thug that fired the gun – the thug that sent him."

"A very worthy goal. Socrates will tell you all about it – tomorrow."

Clarisse spent some time playing with Kat's hair. She tried different looks with hair over Kat's forehead from one side or the other. She smiled while she did it. Just playing. Like two girls at a sleepover. Periodically she kissed Kat, and then she went back to her hair. She was in no hurry.

"Tell me about your time in Fulda. What did you do here?"

"Mostly I played basketball. There was a city league. We had three units that put together teams and joined the league. The idea was to build links with the locals. I played on a men's team. Shooting guard. We always won, but we never rubbed their noses in it. We made sure we never won by more than five points."

"Nice." Minutes passed. Clarisse moved Kat's hair lower, hiding one eye. "You were an MP?"

"Mostly drunks. Eighteen year olds drinking for the first time. Some bad accidents."

"But what's happening now isn't about drunk teenagers."

"No."

"You and I are going to spend a few days together looking at your old haunts. That should be fun, don't you think?" Clarisse made a big smile.

"Yes."

"Katherine, you and I are lovers now, so we will be good to each other. But you know there are others out there, right? We woke up some scary ghosts."

"Yes."

"I will take care of you. Stay close to me. And love me. And you will be fine."

"Clarisse, they shouldn't have killed Charlie. I want those people punished."

"You and Socrates will talk, and you and I will do some exploring. You will get what you want." Clarisse' face was just above Kat's. The commitment seemed real.

Clarisse leaned down to kiss Kat. She slowly stroked Kat, and made her hot again. When she thought the time was right, she led her into the shower.

Chapter 14

Fulda

They both wore sundresses, pink for Kat, yellow for Clarisse. They stood together at the apartment door. Clarisse had her hands in Kat's hair.

"Your hair is so beautiful. I love those blond highlights. And such soft waves along your face. I love that you kept it long enough to go just over your shoulders."

"And I am to say something nice to you before we go out?"

"We are lovers now, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are." Kat looked closely at Clarisse. "Your eyes. The blue is deep. Intense. Striking. It feels like you are viewing the world intensely."

"Not bad. Now put your hands where you think I will enjoy it." Kat put one hand on the small of Clarisse's back and pulled her to her, the other hand across her ass. "Very good." Clarisse wrapped her arms around Kat's neck and pulled herself tight. "We are lovers. That will be clear to all. Even when we aren't touching, people will see it in how we look at each other, how we walk together, what we say and don't say. We are together."

"Agreed."

Clarisse led the way. Her apartment was on Lindenstrasse, a block from the rail line and a block from the pedestrian shopping area. She took Kat's hand and led straight to the shopping area. Kat had been there a million times.

Fulda was not a big place. Maybe fifty or sixty thousand people. The town hall, the Fulda Cathedral, the castle gardens, and the retail area all merged together. Surrounding that section of town was block after block of one and two story residences and small businesses. The newer, industrial area was on the outskirts to the south. Tourists went exactly where Clarisse was leading her now. To their right, the gardens and the ancient city hall. It was called the stadtschloss (city castle) and really did look a bit like a castle, or at least a palace. Ahead, and down a slight hill was the Fulda Cathedral. A huge open area fronted the cathedral. A great place for a Christmas market, but empty in July. Tourists came to visit the cathedral, but never in large numbers. Kat had gone in once, looked around, and left. Big place, interesting, but the world was full of cathedrals.

To their left was shopping. Restaurants, retail. Clarisse took Kat that way. It was after eight. Dinner time. Most restaurants had outdoor seating. Most tables were taken. Clarisse moved at a pace that implied she had a destination in mine. No pausing to check menus or look at decor. She found what she wanted after about a three block walk. A bigger restaurant, nicer, German cuisine, on a corner. Clarisse had pretty good German. She got a table outdoors, close to the street.

Visible. Kat felt she was being displayed. No inside, back room table for them. Outside, near the street, where two pedestrian traffic flows converged. There were people at all the tables near them, and a constant flow of people walking by. A movie star hoping for attention could not have picked a better location.

"I always eat German in Germany." Clarisse settled herself next to Kat, both women in chairs facing the street. She wasn't quite touching Kat, but she had pulled her chair a few inches closer. She had also turned her chair a bit so it was clear her attention was on Kat. Kat went along with the effort, and turned her chair a few degrees as well.

Service was relatively fast. Clarisse did the ordering in German. Weinerschnitzel and spätzle. Classic German food. Almost a cliché. Or a safe choice for one who had limited experience with a German menu. Clarisse had a local apartment and spoke passable German. But Kat had the sense her local knowledge was a mile wide and an inch deep.

Conversation was about the city. Clarisse wanted to know what had changed from Kat's time.

"The Galleria is new." Kat pointed toward a two story glass structure about a block away. Manikins filled the second story windows. Summer dresses. "And we passed a Japanese restaurant that wasn't there before. Italian food has been here forever. Japanese is new."

"You had an apartment, right?"

"Officers were allowed to live off base."

"Near here?"

"Near the train station, but a quick walk here. I probably ate in this restaurant fifty times."

"Maybe we should walk past your apartment later."

"Why?"

"Just curious."

"I'm not sure I could even remember which building it was."

"I doubt that." But Clarisse didn't push the point. "It must have been good duty. Evenings here. Shopping, restaurants. You were what – twenty three? Twenty four?"

"Twenty three. First real job. First real paychecks. We all loved it here. Vietnam was long past, and Afghanistan was a place no one had heard of. Russia was shrinking back to nothing. American had won. Those were good times for me – and for everyone else."

"Have you come back for visits since your retirement?"

"Haven't had the time. It would be fun for a day or two I guess."

"We will be here somewhat longer than that." Clarisse stated that as a fact, and stared directly at Kat as she said it. Emphasis.

"When I choose to leave, I will leave." Kat didn't raise her voice, but she could state facts too.

"Let's not argue needlessly. It's a beautiful evening, the food is very good, as is the wine. Let's have another glass and enjoy being together." Clarisse got the waitress' eye and motioned to her wine glass.

Kat smiled, finished the wine in her glass, and looked toward the waitress – and the people seated in the surrounding area. There was a time when she could have memorized the appearance of every person seated near them. She hoped she could still remember most of them if she saw them again. She also looked for anyone who seemed to be paying attention to them. It didn't seem so. But it was certain Clarisse was not operating alone. Somewhere close she had friends. Charlie's killer might also have friends. Kat watched the waitress bring two new glasses of wine, and she watched the tables nearby. Glances up at the waitress as she passed, no looks towards Clarisse and Kat. If there were watchers nearby, they were good at their job.

"What shall we do tomorrow?" Clarisse slowly sipped her wine, smiling, relaxed, a tourist trying to fill a day.

"I suspect you already have some ideas." Kat could smile too.

"I suppose you have already been to the Cathedral."

"Yes."

"Isn't there a place east of here where the border used to be? Maybe we could take a look at that." Kat listened and smiled. Clarisse really was a gifted actress. So casual. Kat was tempted to say she didn't want to go, just to get a reaction.

"Yes, there is a small monument where the advance observation post used to stand. It's a fairly short cab ride."

"Good. Let's do that. Now, let's finish our wine, and then try the galleria before it closes."

Nobody leaves a European restaurant quickly, but within about fifteen minutes Clarisse had paid the bill, and they had climbed the steps to the second level of the galleria. Clarisse wanted to look at dresses. Kat had brought clothing for three days. Clarisse seemed to be indicating they would be staying longer. She also wanted to show they would not be eating on the street every night. A fancier shop was in the back corner. Gowns there looked more appropriate for Berlin than Fulda, but Clarisse walked in like she was a regular.

The galleria closed about fifteen minutes after they entered, but the store manager just smiled. They were welcome to continue shopping as long as they wished. The price tags on the gowns gave the manager plenty of incentive to extend her hours.

They each left with several silk gowns, and a formal. They went into the changing area together, and "helped' each other. Clarisse was forever sliding skirts around Kat's hips and playing with straps. She expected Kat to do the same for her. The store manager watched and commented about color and style. She watched a great deal.

Kat found the silk gowns to be very comfortable. Knee length, sleeveless or short sleeved, skirts were flared and flowed as she walked or sat. The formal was a different matter. Floor length, navy blue satin, it was sheath cut, and probably a size too small for her. She barely got it over her hips and felt it press around her thighs. Clarisse loved it and had her hands all over it, but Kat noticed she got something far more comfortable for herself.

"It's too small." Kat took a few steps and turned in it. "And the skirt is so tight I am not sure I could do stairs in it."

"It is perfect on you. It shows off your best features." Clarisse was adamant, and the manager nodded in agreement.

"I can barely move in it."

"In that dress, you will not have to move. Men will come to you."

"Men?" Clarisse was standing practically on top of Kat, her hand sliding up and down a very narrow strap leading to a very scooped neckline.

"Well, one man." Clarisse smiled and patted Kat on the ass. "An important man."

So, she was dressing for Socrates. Apparently she would meet him some place special. The prices for the gowns were outrageous. Clarisse paid for hers but not Kat's. Kat did a quick total.

"I can't pay for this. I don't have this kind of money."

"Katherine, you packed like you expected to attend a potluck dinner at the Amberg Presbyterian Church. You will not be attending any church dinners here. Now stop whining and give her your card."

Kat did as she was told. She tried to envision wearing any of those dresses in Amberg. Maybe the silk ones at the Hilton Resort. The formal? Not exactly right for the Wausaukee High Faculty Christmas Party.

They each left with multiple dress bags in their arms. The manager unlocked a back door for them, and they stepped out into a quiet street. There were still a few people about, but it was getting late. It was a week night and people had jobs in the morning.

Clarisse led the way. It wasn't exactly the wrong way, but Kat could easily see they were not going directly to her apartment. They were walking towards the train station.

"Was this the block you lived on?" Clarisse pointed down a street.

"No, the next one. Why?"

"Just curious." Clarisse led the way to the next block. Kat smiled at the way Clarisse was walking. She was trying so hard to be casual, but her pace was just a bit faster. She wasn't such a good actress after all.

"Which one?" Clarisse pointed to a row of two story houses, most of which contained multiple flats.

"That one." Kat pointed to the second one from the corner. "Nice enough apartment, but pretty noisy from the trains."

"Yes, I suppose." Clarisse stood staring at the building for a few minutes, then started back to her apartment.

Kat followed, thinking about what she had learned. Clarisse and her people knew about her apartment. Not good. Whoever these people were, they had intel. The contents of her apartment was not the best kept secret in the world, but it was hardly common knowledge. Someone from her old unit was involved. Conlon? There was only one reason to be interested in her apartment. They knew about her nuke.

Chapter 15

To the Gap

Back in the apartment, their new clothes put away, both of them changed into satin night gowns, Kat learned she would have limits. Clarisse shoved the small bed against the wall. And she insisted Kat sleep on that side of the bed.

"Katherine, we are both jet lagged, we both need sleep, I will sleep much better if I know you won't be getting up and wandering places we don't want you to wander. Places where you might get hurt."

"You say we are lovers. Lovers trust."

"Please. Just get into bed." They stared at each other. Time passed. At some point there would be conflict between the two. Kat wondered if now was the time. She decided to postpone the fight.

"Say please."

"Please Katherine, sleep where and how I ask you to sleep."

"Okay." Kat slid into bed, her back against the wall, Clarisse pressed against her, one arm and one leg over Kat just to ensure Kat would still be in the bed come morning. Clarisse pulled the duvet over both of them and held Kat in her arms.

"We are going to be good together, Katherine. I liked walking around town and having dinner with you." She waited. Kat's turn.

"Yes, I liked dinner too. That's one of my favorite restaurants. Good German food."

"And I liked how you looked. So sophisticated. I think other women were jealous of me." Clarisse waited again.

"Clarisse, you were beautiful today. Now, please kiss me, and then let's get some sleep." Clarisse pushed Kat's hair back from her face and kissed her. But she had more to say.

"Katherine, we should settle something. I really do want us to be lovers. Now, and later."

"I'm engaged, Clarisse."

"A high school teacher and bar tender. You can do better. Yes, you bang each other, but there is a reason he is only coming to see you once a week. You say you are both busy. The world's worst lie. If he was really interested, he would already be living with you. If you were really interested, you would have demanded it. Neither of you care all that much for the other. Two lost souls floundering around in the back of nowhere. Once a week you pretend you have found love. I am your love. You wanted me at the Hilton, you wanted me in your lodge, and you want me now."

"Let's just sleep." Kat closed her eyes and hoped Clarisse would do the same. Clarisse kissed Kat again and spent some time stroking her breast, but then she too closed her eyes and slept.

It was nearly noon before they woke. And longer before they got out of bed. Clarisse wouldn't let go of Kat.

"Katherine, talk to me." Her voice was just above a whisper, and slow. Like a gentle breeze blowing past Kat's ear. She was holding Kat tight against her with one arm, while using her free hand to caress every inch of her skin. She moved her hand slowly and lightly. There was silence, then whispers. Whispers and silence. "You say you played basketball, and you ate dinner in town every night." Silence. "But what was your job? Help me understand you." Long silence. A lingering kiss. "I know you were police. Did you run a jail for soldiers? Did you guard your base? Tell me about yourself."

"I'll tell you what I did, if you tell me why we are going to that old border post."

"I'm just curious. I was just starting school when the wall came down. I don't know anything about that period other than two pictures and a few paragraphs in a high school history book."

"Clarisse, you're lying to me. Now move back so I can get out of bed. I need to use the bathroom." Clarisse made her wait, but finally she moved out of the way.

"I really do want to know more about your time here."

"Yes, that I believe."

It was another hour before they were showered, dressed, and ready to go. Clarisse had Kat wear one of her new silk dresses. Bare shoulders, skirt not quite reaching her knees, it looked more appropriate for cocktails on a lawn. But Clarisse insisted. She had her own reasons. She did allow sensible shoes. There would be some walking.

Clarisse made Kat wait at the door before she would go out. She stood close, playing with Kat's silk skirt.

"We are lovers, out to see the sights."

"I understand the act."

"There is no act. We are lovers." Clarisse held Kat's skirt and waited. Kat wrapped her arms around Clarisse, pulled her toward her, and kissed her. Clarisse smiled. "You need to do that at least twice today when we are out in public. Show that you love me."

"Clarisse, I am here to find out why my friend was killed. I will kiss you if I have to, but I will also hurt you if I need to. Do you understand?"

"Katherine, I am protecting you. Smile at me, take my hand, kiss me. It will keep you safe."

"Safe from your friends."

"Those people are not my friends. I do have friends here. We will need them. They will be your friends soon. Just be patient. And show you love me." Clarisse held Kat's skirt tighter and kissed her. She held the kiss while looking into her eyes. "Katherine, show me you like this." Kat slid one arm up Clarisse' back to hold her tighter, and the other down to her ass to pull their hips together. "Now say something nice."

"I do care for you Clarisse. But you need to tell me many things."

"I will tell you a few things, Socrates will tell you more things. But first, you will tell me things. We are lovers, and you want to tell me things."

"What things?"

"I will ask at the old border." Clarisse kissed Kat one more time, smiled, and played with her skirt, sliding it across her ass and thighs. Then she turned and led the way out of the apartment.

Their first destination was a bakery on the corner. Clarisse had no food in her apartment. None. Not even an old can of something in a corner of a cupboard. Kat had checked while Clarisse dressed. Obviously this was not her home. Just a part of whatever act was playing out here.

So they had brunch at the bakery. Kat loved German bakeries. The world's best bread, best scones, best pastries. They each ordered several pastries and some coffee. They shared a small table, their knees touching. The act continued. Clarisse would take a bite from her pastry and then hold it for Kat to take a bite. And they touched hands and smiled. The message to the world was obvious.

As they finished eating, Clarisse called an Uber. A young man arrived within five minutes. He knew where the old observation post was, and would take them, wait for them, and bring them back for forty Euros. They agreed and got into the back seat of a VW sedan. It was about a fifteen minute drive during which Clarisse played with Kat's hair and pushed the strap of Kat's bra back behind the her dress. Not much talk.

The observation post had been made into a small park. Maybe five acres. Mature oaks shaded the area. The concrete block communications building was the centerpiece. It had some original rooms, but also rest rooms and a small snack bar. Kat led Clarisse through the building, pointing to two radio rooms and explaining their purpose. Then she led Clarisse to the observation tower.

It was about a three story climb up wood stairs to a ten meter square platform. Clarisse led the way, her skirt practically in Kat's face. She knew what she was doing, and stopped several times to turn back and smile at Kat. Several other tourists had made the climb to the top. Clarisse waited until they left, and then turned to Kat.

"This is where you talk, Katherine. Tell me about this place."

"They left some of the fence so you can see where the old border was." They stood along the eastern most railing. Kat pointed down at the existing fence, then moved her arm from left to right to show where more fence had once been. "The actual border was about a hundred yards farther east, but they put a mine field out there. Our guys stayed on this side of the fence."

"How many soldiers were here?"

"Never more than a platoon. They could stand and watch to see if the Soviets were up to anything, and radio back to headquarters, but there wasn't much they were going to do to stop an invasion. The assumption was the Soviets had this location bracketed for artillery, so if anything started, this location would be wiped out pretty fast. Commanders didn't want to sacrifice more than a platoon."

"Were you stationed up here?"

"By 1996 no one was stationed here. The border had moved east. This post was abandoned."

"But you visited here."

"I brought my platoon up here every few months. There were always new guys transferring in, and I wanted them to see this. I wanted them to know what had gone on here just a few years earlier. Men had risked their lives where we stand."

"And this is the gap." Clarisse pointed east. "I don't see a gap. I see hills."

"There are mountain ranges north and south. There are hills here, but nothing a tank can't traverse. And if anything, the hills give them some protection. Harder to see, and harder to hit."

"But the Americans had tanks too."

"The Soviets had a three to one advantage in tanks, and the aggressor always has the initial advantage – they know when and where they will attack. Defenders need time to assemble and then move to the point of attack. The Soviets would have been driving down the main street of Fulda before we got all our people where they needed to be."

"So you would have lost."

"Very possibly."

"Katherine, you are lying to me." Clarisse took Kat by the chin and turned her head. "The Soviets would have been radioactive waste by the time they got to Fulda."

"Rumors." Kat took Clarisse' hand from her chin.

"It's in Wikipedia for Christ sakes. You had W54 nuclear mines buried all along here. One point two kilotons. Craters fifty feet deep."

"Wikipedia is usually accurate. So, why are we here? You already know all you need to know. Hell, your friend Socrates is showing where every mine was placed. Good old Sergeant Conlon walks right to the spot." Kat stood with her hands at her sides, staring at Clarisse. Clarisse took one of Kat's hands and stretched it over the platform railing.

"I want to hear it from you. Show me. Which hills would come down? Which low spots would become pits? What would this valley look like when it was all over?"

"You need to look that up in fucking Wikipedia." Kat pulled her hand free.

"I'm asking you."

"You are asking the wrong person."

"No, you are the right person. Turn around." Clarisse grabbed Kat by the shoulder and turned her so she now faced west. "That road we took here from Fulda, how many mines would have gone off on that highway? And, how close would the nukes have been to the town?"

"You think the locals don't know that? You think you have some big secret? Are you doing some expose?" Kat grabbed Clarisse by both shoulders. "I challenge you. Go into the city hall. Ask. See how many people are surprised to learn about the nukes. See how many are waiting for the next Socrates video. Zero. None. Nil. Old news, Clarisse, my love. Old news."

"That's not why we're here, Katherine. That's not why we're here."

They stood looking at each other, the wind on the tower blowing their hair and their skirts. Kat took her hands off Clarisse' shoulders. Both women caught their breath.

"When we get back to town, I'm moving to a hotel."

"If you do that, you will never meet Socrates." Clarisse instantly had a hand to Kat's cheek. "Don't. What we are doing can have a good ending for both of us. But you need to play by the rules."

"I need to know what is happening here." Kat took Clarisse's hand off her cheek. She bent it at the wrist, forcing Clarisse to cry out in pain.

"Please don't hurt me. I never hurt you. I am here to help you."

"You want to help? Tell me why you are interested in nukes from twenty years ago."

"This has nothing to do with twenty years ago, and everything to do with today." She looked up at Kat and waited. Kat let go of her hand.

"You will explain all this to me when?"

"Socrates will explain it all tonight."

"Now would be better."

"Now you smile, hold me, kiss me, and then we go back to town."

Kat waited. They were at the old border. People had risked their lives here. This was no place to play. She stared at Clarisse. Beautiful face. What was behind it? Finally, she did as instructed. It's hard to be more public than fifty feet up on an observation platform. Clarisse wrapped her arms around Kat's neck, and pulled herself tight against Kat. Kat put her hands on Clarisse' ass, and even pulled her skirt up a few inches. They held that pose until another group of tourists reached the top of the stairs. Then they excused themselves and climbed down to the waiting Uber.

Chapter 16

Dinner with Socrates

The remainder of the afternoon went fast – shopping and strolling. The shopping was for shoes. Clarisse told Kat they would be wearing their formals that evening, and heels would be required. Kat had packed none, and certainly hadn't packed any that would go with her floor length formal. So the shopping started there.

Clarisse made the shopping complicated. At five ten, Kat was unused to wearing heels. She was already taller than most men. The result was her normal footwear might not have been the most stylish, but it was always the most comfortable. Clarisse demanded heels – at least three inch stilettoes. Kat referred to them as "ankle breakers." They worked their way from one end of the galleria to the other before they found a pair Kat was willing to wear. They had the heels Clarisse wanted, and a substantial strap across the ankle that Kat wanted. Clarisse had Kat wear them out of the store so she could get comfortable in them.

As for strolling, they walked the pedestrian area, and sat for a leisurely coffee, but then it was back towards the train station and Kat's old apartment.

"You said the second building there?" Clarisse pointed to a very ordinary looking two story building. Gabled roof, balcony out front, painted beams to give it an older look.

"It's been twenty years, but yes, that's the one."

"How many apartments in there?"

"Four. Two on each floor. A small laundry in the basement."

"Which apartment was yours?"

"Second floor rear."

Clarisse stood and stared at the building. Kat pressed one of her new heels into the sidewalk and rotated her foot on it.

"Why do you care about any of this?"

"We checked, Kat. There are only two apartments in the building. One on each floor."

"So they remodeled. It's been twenty years."

"And it's never been leased to the military." Clarisse took Kat's chin and pulled her face to her. Kat swatted her hand away.

"Where I lived is my business."

"Not even remotely true, Katherine. Now tell me where your old apartment was."

"No." They stared at each other. Kat was three inches taller than Clarisse to begin with. In her new heels she had six inches on Clarisse. Kat looked down, Clarisse looked up. But neither moved.

"You want to know about the killer?" Clarisse asked. "We trade. Tell me where your apartment is, and I will tell you something."

"No." Kat found herself curling her hands into fists. There were secrets she wouldn't trade. This was one of them.

"You are making things very much harder."

"That's not my problem."

"It's a simple question."

"Ask again, and I'll put a stiletto upside your head."

They stared at each other. Clarisse pulled out her phone and texted someone. She got an immediate reply.

"We'll go back to my apartment and get ready for dinner." She turned and started walking, not waiting for Kat to reply. Kat gave her a two step head start, and then followed.

Clarisse had not learned where Kat's apartment was, but Kat had leaned two important facts. The Socrates group was checking up on her and had pretty good access to information. Second, they were instantly available to Clarisse. Maybe at some base, maybe sitting in some car tracking Clarisse' phone. She and Clarisse were being monitored. Not a surprise. Now it was confirmed. Next question – how big was the team? She suspected if she turned a corner and took off running, she would find out pretty fast. Better to stay with Clarisse, watch, and learn.

Clarisse was angry, probably embarrassed that she hadn't been able to get the correct apartment address. The minute they were back in her apartment, she pushed Kat onto the bed and they wrestled. Clarisse not only had real strength in her arms, but she had been trained. The wrestling quickly ended in a draw, with Kat underneath. They held each other immobile. Clarisse had her weight on Kat, and her mouth next to Kat's ear.

"I have done important things for you. I have helped you. You will never know all I have done for you. You need to start paying me back." She squeezed Kat's neck as she talked. She was careful to stay off Kat's larynx. She would do no damage. But she did squeeze off her breath. She held Kat that way, then loosened her grip. Kat coughed and took a deep breath.

"You do what you need to do. I'll do what I need to do."

"We could be partners. They want you on our team."

"Your team killed one of my oldest friends."

"I told you. We did not do that. We tried to stop it." She pulled Kat's hair from the side of her face, and lay her head cheek to cheek with Kat. "Trust me on this, Kat. We don't want to hurt anyone."

"Tell that to Charlie Brandt and Dave Kekkonen."

"Katherine. Please stop. Let's just lie here together for a while. Then we'll change and meet some people you will like."

"Let go of me."

Clarisse rolled to one side and freed one of Kat's wrists. Kat rolled on to her side and pulled Clarisse up against her.

"Clarisse, this isn't going to end well. A man was killed. More may follow. Wherever you are from, you should go back there."

Clarisse played with Kat's hair, a big smile on her face.

"Katherine, how about this. I will protect you, and you protect me."

"I think those were the last words said by the Christians before the lions arrived." They both laughed. For the next hour they lay facing each other, kissing, caressing, and smiling. Kat wondered if in the end she would have to trade her apartment's location for the location of Charlie's killer.

As evening approached, Kat could feel a change in Clarisse. She pulled herself on to Kat, her mouth on Kat's, her legs wrapping themselves around Kat. It felt like she was pressing herself into Kat. Rehearsal. Clarisse was getting ready for a big night. Kat knew the feeling. In her playing days, in the locker room after a good game. Beating Michigan was best. Three years they beat Michigan home and away. And three years some guy got the fuck of his life. Celebratory sex. Find a guy, find a place, and just go to it. Life is good. Grab an armload of someone and enjoy it.

"Who's the guy?"

"You already know who."

"Socrates? You are hot for Socrates?"

"You will be too."

"I won't be."

"Katherine," Clarisse lifted her head and looked down at Kat. She stroked Kat's hair and smiled. "I know you like being with me, and I love being with you. But tonight's your night with Socrates. We'll be back together later."

"Not going to happen. Dinner, some information, done."

"You will like him. And he will be good to you." She stared down at Kat. Emphasis. A point was being made.

"We'll see."

"Good. Now let's get beautiful." Clarisse got out of bed, hung her sundress in her closet, and went into her tiny bathroom. There were cosmetics all around the sink. Kat watched her start work on her face. Obviously a serious date.

Kat lay where she was, trying to plan. Dinner with Socrates. Some place fancy. Would he tell her anything? What was the point of the dinner? She wasn't here to become his friend. She needed some basic information. Patience. Operations always took far longer than anyone wanted. Patience.

Kat hung her silk dress and then joined Clarisse in the bathroom, standing just behind her and sharing the mirror. She watched Clarisse for a minute. She was being very careful. Currently working on her eyes. Liner but rose colored shadow. No raccoon eyes for her. Blush carefully spread along her cheekbones. She had a good face, and knew how to highlight her best features. Clarisse saw her watching, and pushed her backside into Kat. Kat pushed back, her left arm now around Clarisse.

Clarisse turned and pushed herself against Kat.

"Kiss me now. Then keep your hands off me until tomorrow. Okay?" They kissed, then Clarisse turned back toward the mirror. Kat reached past her to her own cosmetics spread around the sink. She followed Clarisse's lead. Care, and color. A bit of moisturizer. She tried to think of the last time she had worked this hard on her makeup. First date with Jim? Not too often since then.

Neither of them went with hair spray. Any wind would just create a sticky mess. Both combed and brushed. Clarisse watched Kat in the mirror and smiled.

Clarisse's formal was gold satin, sleeveless with an a-line skirt. The focus of the gown was her chest. Was this for Socrates, or would there be another man at the table? Clarisse made sure any man had plenty to see. The top of the gown was deeply scooped. Her breasts bulged golden brown against gold satin. The bulge was impressive.

Kat had trouble again getting into her gown. Her hips hadn't grown, but neither had her dress. It was a tight fit. Apparently Socrates was an ass man, because Kat's seemed to be hanging out. When she sat to put on her shoes, she half expected her dress to lose a seam. It was close. She got the straps around her ankles and was on her feet again before anything broke.

"Tell me you have a cab waiting. I can't walk in this."

"We are just going through the gardens. You'll be fine."

Clarisse stopped at the door. Kat expected some of the usual groping. Instead, Clarisse took Kat's bag from her.

"No phones. No electric devices of any kind. Your bag stays here. He has tight security. Too many have tried to tape him or bug him."

"My wallet, my passport?"

"Just leave it all here. No one is going to make you pick up the check." Clarisse took Kat's bag and put it on her dresser. Before Kat could object, Clarisse led the way out. Kat kept a death grip on the railing and took the stairs carefully and slowly. Two stories. Lots of stairs.

They were about two blocks from the castle gardens. At one corner they stood waiting for a light. Every car slowed down to look at the two of them. When they crossed into the gardens, Kat used the plantings as an excuse to stop. The skirt was tight, the heels made her watch every step for uneven pavement that might bring her down. Clarisse was patient. They took their time.

Their destination was obvious. The Hotel. It was ancient. It was beautiful. It was huge, covering the far end of the garden. It was up at least twenty stairs. Kat wasn't sure there was room in the skirt to climb one stair, much less twenty. The garden was beautiful, the evening was just starting to cool. She had walked through the gardens many times when she had been stationed in Fulda. Kat was glad to be back, but she looked at the stairs with dread.

She pulled her skirts up with both hands, and took her time. There was no elegance to her climb. Her head was down and her shoulders hunched. No one watching was awed by her majesty. But, slowly and carefully, she made it to the top. And there she stayed.

"They are waiting for us in the restaurant." Clarisse pointed across the huge patio. It had fountains and gardens of its own. The location of the restaurant was obvious. Hotel windows twenty feet high faced the patio and the gardens. On the other side of those windows there was a man Clarisse wanted to see. She took Kat's hand, as if to pull her along.

"Clarisse, we have walked four blocks to see Socrates. If he is a gentlemen, he will come out to us. It is important that he show some effort and interest. You are a woman. Be one. Now. Stare off toward that fountain. You find it fascinating."

They found it fascinating for about ten minutes before two men emerged. Clarisse immediately took several steps towards them. Kat held her place.

The men? One was Conlon. Kat's hand immediately became fists. She set her feet. The tight skirt would limit her movements, but she was sure she could take Conlon. She would enjoy it. He would be beaten by a woman – a woman in a long, tight skirt. He was looking at her, and it appeared he was reading her mind – or her movements. He walked as far as Clarisse and stopped. Conlon glanced several times at the other man, checking for a reaction maybe, or for guidance on the next step. Clarisse was already taking Conlon's arm. So, Conlon was her man for the night? Is he the one she had gotten so hot for? Unlikely. But she would spend the evening with him. Too bad for her.

The other man had to be Socrates. Broad chested, a little over six feet, shorter hair, erect posture, and a way of moving that said "athlete." He smiled at Clarisse, but kept walking towards Kat. Big smile. Confident smile. A man used to success with women. Kat saw an alpha male. Kat held her head up, her shoulders back, and waited for Socrates to come to her – as he should. Socrates came close, took her hand, and then kissed her on both cheeks

"I am very pleased to meet you. Would you care to join us in the restaurant?" Kat gave him a close look. Not bad looking. No hair loss yet. Strong chin. Good eyes. Large shoulders, small gut. He took the time to exercise. He appeared to be inspecting her as carefully as she inspected him.

"I like it here near the gardens." In her heels, Kat was essentially the same height as Socrates. They stood eye to eye. She maintained eye contact. He did the same, but also showed a slight smile. He seemed to be enjoying the moment.

"The gardens are beautiful. Should we visit them together?"

"What if we stay right here, and you tell me who killed Charlie."

"There is a short answer, and a long answer. I hope you have the patience for the longer answer. It will be much more helpful to you."

"I assume the longer answer involves dinner and dancing."

"As a matter of fact, it does. I hope you don't mind."

"Will Sergeant Conlon be involved in this dinner?"

"Sergeant Conlon will be Clarisse' date for the evening. Please don't object. If you plan to attack him, you will have other opportunities."

"I won't sit at the same table with him."

"Please reconsider. I think ultimately, you will feel better about him than you do now. He is not your enemy." They weren't engaged in a stare-down, but they did maintain eye contact. Kat was determining how much Conlon she could stomach.

"You understand I see him as a traitor to his country. And, I object to your use of him."

"I understand your concerns. If it helps, representatives from our embassy have been here to visit with us. They provided some guidelines, but have no fundamental objections to what we are doing."

"Our embassy?"

"I'm as American as you are. Fresno State, class of 1994." His smile got wider. "Now, University of Wisconsin, class of 1995, may I buy you dinner?"

"Yes." He held his arm to one side and she rested her hand on it. Thick. Solid. She had a million questions for him. She would accompany him into the restaurant and wait for answers. Clarisse and Conlon waited, and then followed Kat and Socrates through the wide doors and to their table.

Socrates held Kat's chair for her.

"Clarisse told us you were beautiful. I can see she was right."

"Clarisse has had me on display for two days. I am guessing you had more than one opportunity to see me for yourself."

"Let's have a meal together and see if we can build some trust."

Socrates sat next to her. Conlon across the table. Afraid to sit too close? Clarisse sat on the other side of Kat. She occasionally looked at Conlon, but it was clear she had far more interest in Socrates.

"I will eat with you. But you may wait a very long time for trust."

"I understand, major. But let me repeat. You are a very beautiful woman. It will be my great pleasure to spend an evening with you." He motioned to a waiter and had a bottle of wine brought to the table. Food followed. He had ordered for all. Kat hated when men did that, but she had to admit that in this restaurant, it somehow seemed appropriate.

She had been in the place once before – on a date neither of them could afford. The place was unchanged. The room ran the entire side of the hotel, two glass doors opening onto the patio and garden, huge windows two stories high along that wall. Above, an arched ceiling painted with scenes from ancient Rome. Below, a patterned tile. She thought maybe that was new.

Clarisse carried the conversation. Amberg. And Kat's business. Her mastery of the chainsaw. Her exceptional lodge. Her success with the women who came to learn from her. She was selling Kat to the table all the way through the meal and then through a brandy. The men asked polite questions. Kat smiled and felt herself relax. No doubt that was the point.

Kat felt Socrates' eyes on her. Always accompanied by a pleasant smile. Then he would turn his attention to Clarisse. Clarisse waited for that. She almost seemed desperate for his attention. And she seemed to somehow grow when she had it. Maybe a bit taller in her chair, her chest a bit larger in her golden gown. He was giving her fleeting attention, but she loved every moment of it.

As Clarisse talked, Socrates took Kat's hand from time to time, and touched her shoulder when he asked about her business or some point Clarisse was making. Kat had his attention. She waited to see if he would look over at Conlon. He seldom did. Conlon was an employee. That was Kat's guess. Allowed to join the dinner party because if you had two women, you had two men.

Socrates looked at Kat with some warmth. She wasn't sure why she felt that in his look. Maybe the smile, maybe the tilt of his head, maybe the touch of his hand. There was something. She gradually felt more comfortable around him.

Dancing began as they were finishing their meal. The restaurant was a very long room, and a string quartet set up at the far end. Waltzes. Why not, it was Germany, and the place was elegant. Half a dozen couples were quickly up and dancing. Apparently the music had been expected. Socrates turned to Kat and smiled.

"Katherine, it would give me great pleasure if you would waltz with me."

"Thank you, but I am not wearing a waltz skirt."

"You are wearing a beautiful gown. You belong on the dance floor for all to behold." He stood before she could object again.

Kat stood, mostly because she didn't want to fight with the man. He had yet to tell her anything. She again placed her hand on his arm and strode to the dance area. Funny, but as she walked with him, she felt her back straighten and her head rise. Her skirt really was too tight for a waltz, but she felt comfortable walking with him through the tables. She was aware of how they looked together, him in a thousand dollar suit, her in a formal gown. As they passed tables, women noticed, and smiled.

And they were able to waltz. He had a strong arm across her back in case she stumbled, and he kept his own steps close, never more than a foot forward or back. She could match that. And she kept a good grip on his shoulder as he turned. He turned often, the hand on her back seeming to lift her as they turned. At five ten, and a hundred and sixty pounds, she didn't get lifted very often. He seemed to do it with ease.

It took a few minutes, but she felt herself relax, loosen her grip a bit, and begin to respond to the music. Two years in Germany, there had been waltzes in the O club. She had danced with officers who were struggling to learn the steps, mentally counting to three as they stepped and turned. Socrates wasn't counting. He moved, he held her, he lifted her. It felt pretty good. By the third waltz she found herself matching his smile.

Still, it surprised her later when she followed him out to his car. Clarisse and Conlon took the front seat. Socrates held the back door open for her, and she got in. No hesitation. Ass down on the seat, feet in the car, quick slide toward the middle. Socrates settled down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. Trust. She felt his hand on her upper arm, and she was okay with it. She felt him pull her against his side, and she was okay with it. The car drove off into the night, and she was okay with it.

Chapter 17

Home at the Winery

As they drove through the night, Kat felt Socrates turn toward her. His left arm was around her shoulders. Now his right hand came to her face. He touched her lightly on the cheek, turning her face toward him.

"Thank you for having dinner with me." He slowly leaned closer to her. It was obvious he was going to kiss her. She had time to turn her face, to put up her hand, or to say "no." Instead, she looked up at him and waited for his kiss. She even raised her hand to the back of his head and held him while he kissed her.

"Where are we going?" Her hand stayed on his head as she asked.

"We are staying at a small inn I think you will like." He kissed her again. It was obvious to Kat where this was leading. She had been led into her share of motel rooms. If the time to say "no" hadn't already passed, it was getting close. She looked out the car window. Black. The middle of nowhere. Not a place to get out of the car. And she wasn't sure she wanted to. She came to deal with these people. Well, now she had met them. She was with them.

She watched as the car turned up a hillside. The destination was now obvious. It was not a small inn. It was a complex of buildings. A winery. One barn had been converted to a tasting room, another held the equipment and tanks. Farther up the hill was a large farmhouse that had been expanded multiple times. It had the classic red tile roof of a German farmhouse, but the middle section was three stories, with dormered windows at the third level and a huge porch running the length of the ground floor. Additions had been built on each side – offices, or rental rooms.

Conlon parked the car at the front door. He and Clarisse practically ran into the home. Socrates stayed with Kat in the car.

"I know you like Clarisse. But she will be with Conlon all night."

"They're a couple?" Kat stayed in Adam's arms.

"They have been together for three years. A bit of an odd couple, but they make it work."

"So that leaves you and me." Kat no longer had a hand on Socrates. Her hands were in her lap, her head back now, studying him.

"If so, I am a very lucky man."

"You said after dinner and dancing, there would be a long story. I think now is the time."

"I am hoping I have several days with you. This story is long and complicated, and I would like you to fully understand it. But let me give you the first layer of this onion. Okay?"

"Give me the first layer, but I expect to hear all of it very soon."

"Fair enough. First layer. My program is a new kind of entertainment show. I would like you to know about the show and the current status of the world entertainment industry. But that's another layer. Back to the first layer. When you present a new kind of entertainment, some people get confused. Back in the U.S. commercial television has all kinds of reality shows, and we know for certain none of them are real. On the internet, we have all kinds of fantasy shows, and you would think people would understand it is all fantasy. But some people get confused."

"This is still the first layer?"

"Sorry. Here's the layer. Old Russian guy sees my show and gets upset. He commanded a Russian tank and always assumed he would be coming through the Gap. He is old now, not too clear in the head, and he is angry. The Americans would use nuclear weapons? And he sees Colonel Brandt on the show. His son lives in the U.S. now, and he sends the son after Colonel Brandt. The son is also not too bright. He kills Brandt. We had some inkling things might be headed in that direction, and we contacted the State Department, but we were too late."

"It's been over a week since Charlie was killed, and that's the best lie you can come up with?" Kat pushed his arm off her shoulders and put both palms on his chest. "Need I point out the obvious flaws? Old Russian guy just happens to have a trained killer son in Brighton Beach. And, he was a trained killer. I talked to the two people he tried to kill last. They didn't see some excited kid, off to do daddy's bidding. They saw a professional - cold, calculating, fearless. He killed his assigned target, and then he went after all witnesses. This is the man who killed Charlie."

"I was told..." Socrates looked at Kat, and then looked toward the inn. "They said..."

"Jesus, Socrates. You're either lying to me, or clueless. Either way, you are useless to me."

Kat punched him in the chest and got out of the car.

Once out on the driveway, she wasn't sure where to go. She had no credit card or passport for the inn, no car to go back to Fulda. She found herself turning in a circle as she considered her options. Socrates got out of the car and stood near her.

"You have a good punch. Feel free to take a few more. Whoever the killer was, and whatever their motive, I recognize that I do have some responsibility for what happened. I didn't need to include Brandt's picture. It added some historical perspective to the piece, but it wasn't necessary. It was a flourish. An attempt at historical credibility. And for that I am sorry."

Kat spun around and punched him in the chest again. She hit him full force, and she could see it hurt him.

"I loved that man. He was my commander, and my mentor. You have no idea how hard it is to be a woman officer. He helped when no one else would." She pulled back her fist to hit Socrates again, but stopped.

"I'm sorry, Katherine." He put both hands on her shoulders, sliding them down along her upper arms.

"So now what?"

"There's more to the story. And maybe a way you can help me not make that kind of mistake again." His hands were slowly drawing her to him. She recognized the move and looked up at him.

"Still think you're getting laid tonight?"

"No. But I do have a place where you can stay, and we can talk more in the morning."

He offered Kat his hand and climbed – slowly – up the porch steps and then up two more floors to a corner room. Kat thought she might have objected if he had put a hand on her back, seeming to push or prod her, but he held her hand lightly as she raised her skirt with her other hand and climbed to his room.

He never turned the lights on. He just closed the door and stood with her, his arms around her back and shoulders. His touch was still light.

"Katherine, you are beautiful."

Kat shrugged her shoulders to get his hands off her. "What you did was wrong. You got a man killed."

"Yes. I am very sorry." He hesitated, then put his hands on her shoulders again. Kat stood motionless.

"He was more than a flourish to me."

"I can see that. I have a large staff. We can do some additional checking. We will help you. I will help you." He slid his hands behind her shoulders and slowly brought her closer.

"And while you do this checking, I am in your bed."

"You get the bed. I get the couch, if that is what you want." He had brought her to his chest, one of his hands now sliding down her back, obviously headed for her ass. He pulled her against himself, and she could feel his bulge.

Decision time. He was good looking, and danced well. The real question was whether he would be useful. He was somehow involved with the Fulda mines. Why? Of all the stories he could put on YouTube, why Fulda? What did he know? His hands slid over her body. He held her close, but not tight. She could still refuse him if she wished. Her decision. But she felt herself warming to him. She noticed she was leaning against him. Her mind might still be debating, but it appeared her body had already come to a decision.

Kat moved her hands to the front of his neck and grasped his tie. She watched his eyes as she took the tie in both hands. She could choke him out easily from that position. His expression never changed. His hands stayed where they were. Trust. Or extreme confidence. She slowly loosened his tie, pulled it free, and then opened his two top buttons.

Socrates reached around her for her zipper. He hesitated, waited for an objection, then slowly dropped her zipper when he heard none.

"Clarisse left a nightgown for you under your pillow."

"Which pillow is mine?"

"The side closest to the door." He took the zipper all the way down, and left his hands on her ass. "Katherine, I will not lock you in or hold you here. What happens next is up to you. If you like, I'll sleep on the couch, or take another room." Kat had to laugh. As he was talking about sleeping on the couch, he slid the straps of her dress over her shoulders. And she let him do it. He had let her take two good swings into his chest. He had apologized. And he had danced with her. He was a good dancer. This encounter was going the way of all encounters between a man and a woman in a bedroom. And she found she was okay with that. Maybe more than okay.

"I think I'll stay a while." She slid the dress down over her hips, dropped it to the floor, then sat on the edge of the bed to get her shoes off. The nightgown was black satin, and long. Amberg souvenir? She pulled it over her head and got into bed. Socrates finished undressing and got into bed on the far side. Kat struggled not to laugh. I'm free? Free to scoot out of here in bare feet and a nightgown. She wouldn't be going anywhere. That was decision was made when she got into the car, when she climbed the stairs, and when she got into his bed.

As Adam slid on top of her, she pulled her nightgown up to her waist. Then her hands went to his head and pulled his face to hers as he entered her. He rocked into her slowly, giving her time to get used to him. Time to get warm. Time to feel his heat. Time to join his rhythm. Time to look up into his eyes. Time to feel very, very good. Time to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him tight to her.

She was breathless when they finished. But she noticed when he slid off her, he slid toward the door side of the bed, one arm under her neck, the other across her, one leg still between hers. She wouldn't be going anywhere tonight. She was fine with that.

Kat was the first one up in the morning. She dropped her nightgown on the floor and took a shower. She wondered if he might join her, but wasn't surprised when he didn't. Odd how that worked. First fuck. Happy to roll around on a bed together, but not quite ready to be naked with each other. She sort of appreciated the quiet.

There were thick terry-cloth robes on the back of the bathroom door. She pulled one on. She ran her fingers through her hair. No comb. No purse. No wallet, credit cards, phone, or passport. She wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. Fingers can only do so much with hair. She pulled hers back behind her ears, and went back into the bedroom.

Socrates was sitting up in bed. He patted the duvet at his side, and pulled her to him when she sat.

"I know it sounds odd to say 'Thank you,' but last night really felt like a gift. And I don't just mean the sex. I liked just being with you."

Kat nodded and then played with his hair. Short hair can still be bed hair. He had a tuft going straight up over one ear.

"We have much more to talk about today. I want to hear more about your onion."

"Yes, I owe you that. I promise you more words and more explanations, and no lies." He pulled her tight against himself. She was comfortable with his arm around her. "While we talk, I want to show you around this place. They are doing a nice job upgrading this old farm."

"I may look a little silly walking around a farm in a long gown."

"Clarisse will be bringing all your things later this morning. Now. My turn to shower." He kissed her, then walked naked to the bathroom.

As soon as he heard the shower start, Kat did the obvious. She searched through his clothes. Phone first. Locked. She put it back in his pocket. Wallet. Several thousand dollars in Euros and dollars. Driver's license. "Adam Taylor." Address in California. One of the suburbs outside LA. Several credit cards. She heard the water go off and put the wallet back.

The room had one window. A dormer. She walked into the alcove created by the dormer and examined the winery. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He was wearing the other robe. She pushed her ass back into him, and he slid his hands up to her breasts. He pushed his face into the wet hair behind her ear.

"Clarisse will bring you clothes, but I kind of like you this way." He tightened his arms around her.

"How long will I be here?" He turned her around so she could see his face. He also put a large hand on her ass, and pulled her tight against him.

"With luck, I will have you a very long time. But. I suspect you are asking about our immediate situation."

"Yes."

"It is important that I tell you everything. I know you want to know about Colonel Brandt, but there is more for me to tell you. But it is also important I tell you at the right time. I ask you to be patient." He took a step back, and she thought they might be headed back to bed, but he pointed to a couch in front of a tiny fireplace. There was no fire going, but they sat facing it as if there were. He had his arm around her shoulders and pulled her legs across his thighs. Kat leaned into him.

"When do you plan to tell me your real name? I find it odd to call you Socrates."

"Adam Taylor."

"And? Care to tell me any more?"

"Ex-jock. I went to college to play football. Linebacker. Good enough for D-1, not good enough for a name school. So I played at Fresno State. You probably never heard of us, but we made top 25 from time to time."

"And then?"

"I had an extra year of eligibility, so I stayed on and got a master's degree. History. I helped with couching my last year there. Started the Ph.D. program at UCLA, mostly because they used me as a student coach. Lasted a year. First time in LA, too many parties, not enough interest in the books. Coach helped me make a graceful exit. History teaching job at a local junior college, assistant coach for the team."

"And the junior college coach becomes Socrates?"

"Easier transition than you might think. There were three other history teachers at my juco, and we used to sit and laugh at student exam answers. You wouldn't believe what some of these kids believed. They all said they learned their crazy ideas in high school. Maybe. But I think mostly they were paying zero attention in class and just got everything mixed up. Anyway, I started copying their craziest answers down, and I put them in a web post I called History's Mysteries."

"Nice rhyme."

"It got some laughs, and then I started getting some reactions. A local agent thought it would be fun as a book. But there were also people who climbed all over me. Why was I laughing at these kids? They were telling the truth. I was the one who had swallowed the standard line."

"Your first controversy."

"I wanted to respond, but rather than the standard citations and quotations, I thought I would make fun of these people. I had three weeks after spring semester and before football practice started. I took a video camera to San Antonio. The Alamo. I got video of people wandering the grounds, and then I found a back door. Just a normal back door. But I took lengthy shots of it from many angles. I even talked several guys into opening the door and rushing out. Never got them to sign a release. I was that green. Anyway, I patched up this video and claimed the men at the Alamo were not killed. They fought so bravely and scared the Mexicans so much, Santa Anna let them escape just to save himself further embarrassment. The men moved to California and were all involved in the Gold Rush."

"And you posted it."

"New website – Secrets of History. The plan was to get lots of people to agree with this new version of history, and then show all the documentation proving my video was nonsense. But a check arrived from some guy in Texas. He had never believed Mexicans could kill Texans. Just liberal nonsense. Other checks followed. I made more money in those three weeks than I made teaching all year."

"So now your business was to sell lies."

"Attractive lies. And yes. I sold them. I spent my vacations rewriting history. In five years I had a pile of money and financiers who wanted to help me grow. 'The Cave' came from all that."

"Are you bothered by what you do?"

"Sure. But you can't believe how much money I make, and I keep thinking not everyone is a moron. Most people see I am just telling stories. They can tell fact from fiction."

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?"

Kat started pulling away from him. He held her tighter, one arm around her shoulders, the other keeping her legs across his.

"Katherine, I have never told my story to anyone else. I thought I owed you something for your friend. But I also enjoy being with you. I hope, if I am honest with you, maybe we can be friends."

Kat stopped pulling away, and put a palm on his chest.

"I appreciate honesty. But I think there are many more layers to this onion, beginning with why you are in Fulda."

"Stay with me a few days, and I will show you every layer you want to see." He pushed his hand under her robe and slowly moved it up her thigh.

"I take it you plan to get laid every day."

"I can hope." He moved his hand between her thighs and kept moving higher. He also leaned over her, taking her down across the cushions of the couch.

"And if I say 'no'?" She was looking straight up into his face, her back on the cushions, his hand between her legs.

"I will never do anything you don't want me to do." And he kissed her. She slid her hand from his chest to the back of his neck, and pulled him to her. A minute later, he picked her up and carried her to their bed.

An hour later, they were still in bed, now tight against each other, Kat hot and happy. He had big arms. And a good smile. And he knew how to touch her. She ran her fingers through his hair. She liked his smile, and she liked looking up at him. She was in no hurry to leave.

There was a quick knock at the door. Clarisse. She had a key and let herself in. She put Kat's overnight bag on the floor and laid several dresses over the top. Then she stood, looked, and smiled.

"Katherine, I finally managed to get you with the right man. I told you he would be good to you." She smiled again and left.

Kat and Adam stayed in bed a while longer, then showered together. She liked the way he looked wet and naked. He got a good look at her and seemed to like what he saw. They took a long shower.

Wrapped in towels, they went for their clothes. Kat checked her bag on the floor and lifted the dresses. They were the three silk dresses she had bought with Clarisse. Adam stood by a dresser and pulled out two empty drawers.

"Put your things here." He dressed quickly. Jeans and a polo shirt. His shoulders and arms bulged in the shirt. Kat joked around and felt his bicep. But she also slid her hand along his arm. He looked pretty good for a guy whose license said he was forty seven. He wrapped both arms around her and flexed. It was a joke, but Kat could see the material in his shirt stretch.

"Take your time getting dressed. I know how you ladies are. I'll go downstairs and get them started on our breakfast." He kissed her, held her, played a bit with her hair, and then left.

Kat hung her dresses on hangers in the closet, then put her bag on the bed and went through it. It didn't take much time. There was underwear. She put that in the dresser, realizing there was a significance to that act that reflected on the relationship she was building with Adam. She had been dating Jim three years before she left any clothes at his house.

There were cosmetics in a side pocket, and a comb and brush. She moved all that to the bathroom.

There were other side pockets. Empty. Her passport, wallet, and phone? Not here. Her shoes? Not here. Jeans, casual dresses, shirts? Not here. Question. Had Clarisse packed in a hurry and forgotten Kat's things? Maybe. She would ask. But Kat thought she already knew the answer. No phone – no communication. No passport – no travel. No shoes – she wouldn't be running off, not in three inch heels. She was where they wanted her to be.

Response? She didn't feel threatened. He was a good lover and a man who might solve several mysteries for her. She would stay. She picked last night's formal off the floor and hung that, then gathered up her nightgown. She washed that in the bathroom sink and hung it in the shower to dry. She combed out her hair, and then spent a fair amount of time on her makeup. Let him wait. He or Clarisse had a way they wanted her to look. That look took time. She worked at it. She spent nearly an hour in front of her mirror. If he had a problem with that, he could say so. Dressing was simple enough. Any one of the silk dresses, and her one pair of shoes – three inch stilettoes for walking around a farm. She picked the darker blue silk, strapped on her shoes, and stood in front of the large bathroom mirror. She looked pretty good. She wanted to look good – for a guy she had just met the night before.

Chapter 18

A Hilltop Conversation

Adam was on the front porch having a cup of coffee at a small table. Kat took the chair next to him. He looked at her and nodded.

"I know that took some work, but you are truly beautiful. Thank you. Trust me, it was worth the wait."

"Are they still serving breakfast?"

"They will pretty much serve whatever we want."

And that turned out to be true. Kat wasn't sure if Adam and his people had taken every room in the inn, but he had definitely taken enough that his wish was their command. Kat got her eggs and toast, introductions to staff and managers, and an orientation to the place in the form of pointings at various buildings with basic descriptions to follow. The winery seemed nice enough, and the food was great. Kat loved eating on the porch, feeling the breeze blow over her, watching the grape vines bend in the wind. It was lovely. Kat hadn't come to Germany to enjoy herself, but she found she was. And, she found she was coming to like Adam more and more.

"When you are done, I'd like to take a walk." Adam pointed off into the vineyard. "There's a big layer of the onion you should know about."

"Clarisse didn't bring my other shoes. All I have are these." Kat pointed toward her feet.

"It won't be a long walk. And I think you will like it."

He stood and offered Kat his hand. She took it and followed him down off the porch and around the side of the house. Some of the path was dirt, and some small gravel. She stepped carefully. The shoes were opened toed in addition to the stiletto heel that sank into any soft ground. Adam walked slowly, and took her hand, but still, the walk involved some effort.

Grape vines were in long rows up the side of the hill. Easily a hundred rows. At the top was a grove of trees. Kat hoped that wasn't their destination. A path wide enough for a small tractor wove its way up the hill. The path was mostly grass covered, but there were rocks she needed to avoid. Her eyes never left the ground.

"The German Ag Ministry is providing all kinds of incentives on wine. They say they want to expand beyond the usual Riesling, but I think they just want to beat the French at their own game." Adam let go of Kat's hand and was now holding her around the upper arm to give her more stability. They were making very slow progress up the hillside.

"And then there is the tourism element. Turns out people like poking around these rural areas and checking out wineries. They stop, pay a few Euros for a tasting, buy a bottle or two, and then move on. Think of it as rural enhancement. City workers get a day out in the country, country people get some money, and they get city people to come out and show some respect for their farm or village."

Kat stopped and looked up the hill. They were barely half way. She stopped and pulled a stone out from under her toes.

"Now the Krogers – that's the people who own this farm – added the third element – an inn. They get a low cost loan, upgrade three or four rooms, and now they have money from room rentals and meals as well as from tastings and wine sales. These guys have a pretty good head for business."

Kat started climbing again, stepping carefully from grassy area to grassy area.

"You'll get the full Krogers treatment later. Their dinners are heavy, your basic German pork and gravy, but you won't leave the table hungry. And all meals include all the wine you care to drink. They have a red that is pretty close to a pinot. Not quite the flavor, but definitely the body. And the color. Great color. When we get served tonight, hold your glass up to the setting sun. I think you'll be impressed by what you see."

What Kat saw was much more important to her – they had reached the grove of trees. Several seats were arranged in the shade. A couple Adirondack chairs, and some benches. She placed her feet carefully and raised her head. She had made it. She felt proud of herself. And none too happy with Adam. She was tempted to take a single chair, but there was a two person seat hanging on chains from some branches. Adam was obviously headed for that, so she followed. It had cushions on the seat and back. She didn't need cushions. What she needed was to get her feet off the ground. They got the seat swinging and she raised her feet.

"I assume you have something to say to me." Kat stared at Adam. He seemed not to notice her mood. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and leaned back. The seat swung easily. Kat kept her feet off the ground and let Adam swing the chair. Her silk skirt immediately flared back. She put a hand on it to hold it in place.

"I feel like I am being hazed." Kat continued to stare at Adam, and he continued to not notice. "You know I don't have shoes for walking, but you insist on taking me up this hillside. Going down will be even worse. My heels will dig straight down into the grass and gravel."

"You need to talk to Clarisse about your clothes, although I like the choices she made. Watching that skirt blow across your thighs is the best foreplay in the world."

"Shoes, Adam. I need real shoes."

"Relax, major. We leave no man behind." He kissed the side of her face. He had tried for her mouth, but she turned away. He let the two of them rock a few more times, and then he tried again. He got her cheek this time.

"Katherine, I brought you up here for a reason. Look out across the valley."

Kat decided it wasn't really a valley, just a series of rolling hills. Meandering through the middle was a river. It was the same river that ran along the west side of Fulda. She struggled, but couldn't remember its name.

"Tell me if you remember your basic geography. What does the shape of a river tell you?"

"A straight river means the ground around it is steep. Your standard mountain valley. You see a straight river on a map, and you already know the topology of a region. Large curls on a river mean it is flowing through fairly flat ground. It wanders this way or that. Might be an easier crossing, but there also might be marshes."

"This one wanders a lot as it passes through those hills."

Kat looked at Adam. She had no idea where this conversation was going. Obviously it had a purpose beyond river geography. She was confused, and a still a little irritated.

"Adam, please just make your point. So far I have gotten a lecture on ag economics and river topology. Is that what I made this climb for?"

"You made it to look at the one feature that is distinct. There."

One of the most distant bends in the river ran up against a larger hill. Not a mountain, but a bigger hill than any around it. The river ran right up against it and had eroded a bit of a cliff.

"Katherine, do you remember that hill?"

Kat stiffened. She pulled away from Adam and got off the seat in mid swing. She did remember that hill. She had never seen it from this angle before, but its features were memorable. Not only was it taller than the hills around it, but it stood opposite another hill – maybe a hundred yards on the other side of the river. Nothing special, just two hills along a river. Certainly nothing that Adam needed to know about.

"Major, on a sunny day in July 1996 your platoon stood along a road at the base of that hill and blocked traffic for almost eight hours. I bet the locals were mightily pissed. But they should have given you a parade. You saved Fulda from drowning."

"I don't know where you are getting your information, but you really need to not tell that story anywhere." Kat stood face to face with him, her finger pointed at his chest.

"I have told the story to no one. It's a good story, but I agree, it should not be told. Russians invade, W54 nuclear mine goes off, half of mountain on the left collapses across the river and up the side of mountain on the right. Instant dam. Water backs up. Forty eight hours later, all the roads in Fulda are under water. A week later, all of Fulda is under water."

"It would have stopped every Russian tank, and the people of Fulda would have had days to get out of town." Kat kept her finger in his chest.

"Good point. But there were other nukes, Katherine, and we need to talk about them."

"No we don't."

"Katherine, please sit. We are at an important layer of the onion, and I want to discuss it carefully with you."

Kat hesitated, then sat on the swing again. She would hear his story. But she would shape it.

"Here's where I want you to start." Her feet were off the ground so he could swing again, but she was turned to face him, one hand gesturing near his chest. "Tell me why you are even here? Of all the bullshit stories you could tell in the world, why Fulda?"

"I have friends in Switzerland. I was visiting, and they suggest I do something in Europe. It would draw in a new group of viewers. Along came Sergeant Conlon with the Fulda nuke story, and it just flowed from there."

"It just flowed from there? What are you, retarded? Have you thought about the damage you are doing? You are reminding people all over this region we would have nuked them to stop the Russians."

"There are people in the Defense Department who stop by and shake my hand. They like reminding the Russians we won't put up with their shit. Mess with us and bad things happen."

"That's what this is? Some macho chest pounding?"

"Katherine, there are at least five layers to this onion. Chest pounding is just one of them."

"I am getting real tired of your onion."

"Okay. Different approach. Conspiracies. Fundamentally, I am in the business of selling conspiracies. I add cheap theatrics, the cave and those tunnels, but it is all about conspiracies. My customers pay $19.95 each month to get good conspiracies. Add nukes, and new subscriptions are up forty percent."

"It's the Wizard of OZ, and you are the man behind the curtain."

"Except, no one wants the curtain pulled. They want there to be a man pulling levers and making things happen. They pay $19.95 a month to know there is man there. They need to believe that. When I first started this, I thought they believed all these weird conspiracies because they were frightened, silly people. Nope. They are arrogant. They are proud they know something no one else does. Even if what they know is nonsense. It just has to be exclusive."

"Sorry, Socrates, but you are wrong." Kat came real close to pushing an index finger into his chest. "The nuclear mines we planted in the seventies are fully described in Wikipedia. There is no curtain. There is no conspiracy. There is nothing to hide. You are peddling, and reminding people, of common knowledge."

"You say that like it matters. Like people want or respect common knowledge. They pay twenty bucks a month for exclusive knowledge – even if all they are getting is Wikipedia with cheap video segments."

"You are a huckster."

"Yes. I made sixteen million dollars last year selling low quality video and badly written stories. This year I'll make over thirty million."

"And you can sleep nights?"

Kat jumped off the swing and started to climb down the hill. She managed three steps before her heel got caught and she went down in a heap. Adam was at her side instantly. He wrapped a big hand around her ankle. Kat slapped his hand away and unstrapped her shoes.

"I'm getting down to the inn on my own. Once there, you will give me cab fare, and the keys to Clarisse's apartment so I can get my passport and wallet."

"I will do that, but first we need to talk about one more nuke. Yours."

"Fuck." Kat rounded on Adam, a fist raised. "I promised myself I would beat Conlon when I saw him. I should have done it last night. I will definitely do it today."

"You think Conlon is telling the world too much. What you don't appreciate is that he has protected an important secret – your secret. And I have protected it as well." He sat on the ground next to Kat. He waited. "I'm trying to prove I am a friend."

Kat examined his face. He apparently knew a great deal. She needed to find out how much more. "Okay, prove you are a friend."

"There were eight nuclear mines. The first group was right up at the border. The next group was closer to Fulda. A second line of defense – if needed. Obviously you hoped the need would never come. But if it did, there was the mine that would flood the town, and then there was your mine."

"All of that information is still classified. Conlon should be in jail."

"Conlon is doing the right thing. We talked this all through. We will broadcast about the mines near the border, sometimes giving actual locations, sometimes giving fake locations. We will not talk about the mine along the river, or the one in your apartment."

"No?"

"No. Unless you want us to."

"Why the hell would I want that?"

"Do you have any idea how famous we could make you? The woman who slept with a nuke."

"And you think I want that? What's wrong with you?" Kat struggled to get up. She tested the ground with her bare feet. There were a few rocks, but she thought she could avoid most of them if she was careful. She gathered up her shoes and took the first couple steps down the hill. Before she got to the top row of vines, Adam had gathered her up in his arms and started carrying her.

Chapter 19

Dinner and Wine

Kat desperately wanted to punch Adam, but it didn't seem fair to punch a man in the middle of a heart attack. Adam had carried Kat down the side of the hill, then up two flights of stairs to their room. Down a whole mountainside. Impressive, actually. But, as Adam climbed the second set of stairs, Kat saw his face get red. The guy had huge arms, but the heart of a forty seven year old. He made it to their room and put Kat on her back in their bed, but then he essentially collapsed onto her. She saw the red get darker. There was every chance he would stroke out before he got her clothes off. So she put the brakes on.

"Give me a minute, Adam. Let me catch my breath." She smiled up at him, and put a hand to his cheek. His face was wet with sweat, and his chest was heaving. She weighed one sixty. Hauling her down a mountain and up two floors had been impressive. But she could see the guy was struggling. She put a hand on his shoulder and put minimal pressure on him. He slid onto his side.

Kat slid out from under him and ran barefoot to the bathroom. Included in her cosmetics clutter was a small bottle with assorted pills she carried to respond to typical travel problems. She sorted through and pulled out an aspirin. She took that and a half glass of water back to Adam. She pulled him into a sitting position and gave him the glass.

"Aspirin. To help with the heat." Obviously it was to help prevent a heart attack by modestly thinning his blood, but she wouldn't say that any more than she would say carrying her up the stairs was crazy. With men, you never knew if you were talking to the adult you saw in front of you, or the sixteen year old barely hidden inside. While he took the aspirin, she took off his shoes and socks, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. He finished the water, then lay down on his side. Kat lay next to him, carefully watching his color and brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"I've always wanted to do that." They were sharing a pillow. Adam's face had gone from red to white, but he seemed to be breathing better. "You really felt great in my arms."

Kat had a million potential responses, starting with the obvious – you can't say you are saving a damsel in distress, when you caused the distress in the first place by dragging her up a mountain in three inch heels. Or, I could have gotten down fine on my own. Or, I am astonished you think I would want to be put in a video about my nuke. Or, well, there were no end of options. What she said was...

"Once I was sure you weren't going to drop me, I liked the ride." That was mostly true, but she was still angry. Now didn't seem to be the right time to tell him off.

"I liked your arms around my neck, and your head on my shoulder." He reached across and laid a hand on her hip. She noticed the hand was limp. The guy was pretty used up.

"I liked your arms holding me. But it doesn't change what I said up there. I don't want my nuke mentioned. I won't appear in your videos. I am here to find Charlie's killer, and then I leave."

"I have Clarisse working with our comment monitors. They are checking all feeds, but I think we already have the guy – old Russian tank commander."

"Who just happens to have a contract killer nephew."

"Maybe a nephew who knows a contract killer." His hand slowly moved from her hip to her ass. Apparently the aspirin was working. There was more color in his face, and a slight smile.

"I'll talk to Clarisse about the comments you are getting at your website. We should also be checking locally. Maybe some guy who watches as Conlon does his remote video feeds."

"Do you have any idea how good you would look on video?" The hand on her ass was now pulling her to him. She put a hand on his chest, ready to push him away. But she didn't. She let him pull her to him, even sliding toward him on her own.

"Tell me you will help me find Charlie's killer." She took her hand from his chest and moved it to his shoulder. She also slid her face closer. So much for punching the guy. She wouldn't be doing that.

"Yes, I'll help."

He pulled her hips tight against him. Kat put a hand behind his head and kissed him. And held him. She thought about how it had felt to be in his arms on the mountain side, her arms tight around his neck, her face pressed against his cheek. Something had started in her. She wanted. She kissed him again, then began to slide over him. This might have been the moment where he rolled on top of her, but she didn't give him a chance. She pushed him onto his back, got up on her knees, pulled his pants down, tore her panties off, then straddled him. She slid down onto him, and rode him like the hounds of hell were chasing her. His face started getting red again, but she wanted him, she had him, and she stayed on him.

She felt him explode inside her. She froze, then fell onto his chest, her hands sliding back behind his head, pulling her face to his. His massive arms wrapped around her back, and pulled her so tight she wondered how either of them could breathe. But they did.

Her face slid next to his, cheek to cheek. He needed a shave, and both of them were sweating, but she kept her face right where it was, her arms clinging to him. She was right where she wanted to be, and she wasn't moving.

There was some talk. Not much. Mostly whispers. Her lips to his ear.

"I barely know you."

"We'll learn about each other."

"Tell me you're a good guy. Not just some creep out to get rich. I really need you to be a good guy."

"Is it enough if I'm not a bad guy?"

"I'll work on that."

Not much more was said. Kat clung to his neck, Adam held her tight with one arm and used the other to alternately stroke her hair and her ass. She wasn't sure which she liked more. Both felt marvelous. Adam turned his head to watch her face. She looked back, but much of the time her eyes were half closed. He had great hands. She was warm all over. She kissed his cheek in thanks. She breathed into his ear.

"I love this."

Late in the afternoon they got up and showered. Together. He took up a lot of space. They touched each other – not very gently. He backed her into a wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself against him. She recognized that she was clinging to him. Her arms tightened. She liked everything he did. She liked being with him, feeling his arms, having his face to kiss. She wanted this man. It was that simple. She wanted this man.

They dressed as they had before. Her in a fresh silk gown, back up onto her heels. Him in jeans and a polo shirt, his chest somehow even bigger. She stood before him and buttoned his shirt. She realized the heels pushed her forward onto his chest, the incline of the shoes taking her to him. So maybe heels weren't so bad after all.

They stood smiling at each other, and then slowly took the stairs down, hand in hand.

Conlon and Clarisse were on the front porch, watching a tour group enter the winery. They paused as Adam and Kat approached. Clarisse had a huge grin for Kat. The smile said, "I know." Kat just smiled back, and held Adam's hand tighter.

"They're about to start the last tour of the afternoon." Conlon motioned in the direction of the sampling room. "Care to join them?" Kat didn't. She would have preferred a quiet meal with Adam, but she nodded and followed along.

Kat had taken many winery tours. This one seemed to follow the standard playbook. Words of welcome, a history of the winery – with emphasis on the family – a short walk through the building with the fermenting tanks and then the underground area with the oak barrels, each of which had its own history emphasizing the care taken in barrel selection and maintenance, and finally an exploration of the vineyard, with a lecture on the varieties that had been planted and the efforts going into making the vineyard "green."

Only two things separated this tour from every other winery tour. First, Clarisse. She had a hold on Conlon that surprised Kat. A firm hold. But her eyes were elsewhere. Adam, mostly, but also Kat. Others looked at the vines, she looked at Conlon – briefly, holding his hand for every step of the tour – but constantly looking over to see how Kat and Adam were doing. The look? Admiration, desperation, longing, love. Kat couldn't tell which of them Clarisse wanted more. But she wanted one or both. No question, she was smitten. This, while holding the hand of Conlon and paying him reasonable attention. Clarisse' head damn near on a swivel as she looked between the men. Kat stood close to Adam, her hand in his, her eyes on him, her eyes on Clarisse. She pressed tighter against Adam. Would she have to fight for him?

The other noticeable item? There were maybe a dozen tourists also doing the tour. All had cameras or smart phones out. They took pictures of vats, barrels, vines, and, from time to time, Kat. It wasn't obvious, but she thought she could see them change their angle so Kat and Adam were in the picture of the vats or vines. Two tourists in particular - a man and a woman. Sometimes her, sometimes him. Average looking, average age, average tourists. Taking pictures. Kat moved once, to put Adam between her and them, and she was sure the couple adjusted their position.

Adam seemed not to notice. He kept her hand, or put an arm around her shoulders when they were in the cooler storage areas. Always a smile. Always contact. If he noticed the two tourists, he made no effort to turn from them. He followed the tour, he walked close to Kat. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He would stop, smile, touch her hair. Then move on. As the tourists took their pictures.

Display. It was almost as if he was putting her, and their relationship on display. For tourists? Kat on display.

Kat and Adam lingered in the tasting room, the four of them standing close and working their way through four wine selections. The picture taking seemed to stop, and Kat relaxed. Just tourists doing what tourists do. The wine was decent. Nothing special, but drinkable. They decided they would have something called a "Red Rhone" with dinner.

And that was it. Tour over. They walked back to the inn and took a table on the porch. Good view from there. They could see the tourists get back on their bus. And the tourists could see them. Kat still held Adam's hand, and she was aware she smiled every time she looked at him. Smitten. No question. If the tourists were looking up towards the inn, that's what they saw out on the porch – a woman smitten.

Dinner was schnitzel and spätzle and gravy. A few green beans for color, but the meal was large, and heavy. The Red Rhone never had a chance. Even the wine tasted like gravy. Clarisse dominated the conversation again. She and Conlon had done this, she and Conlon had done that. She and Conlon planned to do this and that. She was wearing yellow silk, her breasts once again pressed against a deeply scooped neckline. No doubt a joy for both men. Kat saw Clarisse look at Adam, and she saw Adam look back. Hard not to. Boobs hanging over the table. Boobs bulging against silk.

Kat's silk was a rust shaded red, with very short sleeves and a scooped neckline that approached, but didn't reach her breasts. She wondered now if Clarisse had pushed her to this gown just to prepare for such an evening. Her skirt was flared, and she could feel it moving in the evening wind, but it was hidden beneath the table. Nothing for Adam to see, although she did feel his hand on her thigh. She found herself playing a bit with her hair. Maybe that would compete for male attention. Kat was ready for the meal to be over long before it was over.

After a final glass of brandy, Adam joked about carrying Kat up to their room again. She kissed him and started up the stairs, staying just in front of him, her backside and her skirt swinging practically in his face.

Up in their room, he threw her on their bed again. She found she liked that. She was also happy to see a healthy glow in his face. He smothered her, but she had things to say before one of them rode the other.

"Did it seem to you the tourists were taking a lot of pictures? And I could swear they were looking to take pictures of us."

"Tourists take pictures. That's what they do. Generally, that's the only thing they can think to do."

"You aren't concerned about people taking pictures of you?"

"When they get home, they will use some software and crop us out."

"Maybe." Kat was unbuttoning his shirt. Adam rolled her to one side so he could get at her zipper. It came down, as did her sleeves. He pushed her on her back again, her sleeves now bunched around her elbows. He brought her bra straps down and kissed her chest.

"While you are mauling me, can you tell me what we are doing tomorrow?"

"Sergeant Conlon and I have something to do. You and Clarisse will have the day to yourselves."

"I'd rather have the day with you."

"So you've decided you like me more than Clarisse?"

"Yes. I hope that's obvious."

"Just checking."

They finished undressing each other and got into bed. This time Adam was on top.

Chapter 20

A Day with Clarisse

"You two look good together." Clarisse let herself into Kat's room and sat on the side of their bed. Kat had her head on Adam's chest. He had one arm around her shoulders and a hand on her ass. Both seemed to be enjoying the moment. Neither paid any attention to Clarisse. Adam's hand kept making lazy circles on Kat's backside. She wore a sleepy, happy, smile.

Clarisse was still in her nightgown. Pink and very short. She lifted the duvet and slid in tight against Adam. "Eric said to remind you about your meeting this morning. But you can have me first, if you like." Adam took his time. He did several more circles on Kat's ass then bent down and kissed Kat. He climbed over Clarisse, gave her a quick kiss as he slid by, and went straight for his shower.

"You're mine all day today." Clarisse slid into the spot vacated by Adam and pulled Kat's head onto her shoulder, holding her as Adam had, her hand already stroking Kat's ass.

"Where are they going?" Kat made an effort to lift her head and look at Clarisse, but Clarisse held firm.

"Stay where you are. And don't ask questions. You and I are going to have fun today." She held Kat where she was, and gradually Kat relaxed. She put a hand on Clarisse's breast and caressed her. They lay like that as Adam showered and dressed. He was wearing a suit and tie. The suit looked expensive, and he was very careful to get the knot in his tie exact. Obviously an important meeting. He leaned across Clarisse to kiss Kat, and then he left. They could hear him knock at the room next door, then he and Conlon took the stairs.

Once the men were gone, Clarisse rolled over onto Kat and looked down into her face.

"You owe me, Katherine. I brought you here, and I gave you Adam. You owe me."

"You need to help we find Charlie's killer. And you need to give me the rest of my clothes, plus my phone, wallet, and passport." Kat raised her hand up under Clarisse's shoulders, ready to push her off.

"I will give you all that right now, if you like. But the minute you have a phone, Adam won't trust you. And he'll make you leave. Do you want to leave?"

"No." She was happy spending time with Adam. No questions about that. And she didn't mind being with Clarisse. But she was here for a reason. She wanted to know who was behind Charlie's killing. Maybe Adam and Clarisse could help with that. Maybe.

Kat looked up at Clarisse, and moved her hands from her shoulders down to her ass.

"I want to stay."

"Rules. I keep all your stuff. You wear what I tell you to wear. That includes heels. They make your legs look great, by the way, but they also slow you down and make you dependent on a man. They love that. You do what I tell you to do, now – and later. And, you please me." She lowered her face just above Kat's, and waited.

"Agreed. I will please you."

Kat slid her hands across Clarisse's ass and lower back, pulling her to her as the women kissed. Clarisse pulled her nightgown off and slid farther up Kat's chest. Then she rested herself with her breast at Kat's mouth. She held herself there as Kat explored. Kat used her tongue first, then took the breast into her mouth and sucked. Then back to stroking it with her tongue. She was to please Clarisse, and apparently part of the process would be learning how and where to please. She held Clarisse and felt when she seemed most excited. It was a long process. They were in bed together for hours. One breast, then the other. Her mouth, their thighs, her hands. Much to do. Lots to explore. Kat did what she could.

As the session ended, Clarisse brought her face over Kat's again. She studied Kat.

"You did well. Next time you will do better." She held her position over Kat. "Now the truth." She paused again. Emphasis. Her face an inch from Kat's. "You liked it, didn't you? As you did it. As you pleased me."

Kat looked up into those deep blue eyes. And answered honestly. "Yes, I liked it. I want to do this again."

"We will." Clarisse kissed her, and held her.

And then it was over. Clarisse pulled Kat out of bed and slid the straps of her nightgown over her shoulders so the black satin gown dropped to the floor, a puddle around her ankles. She stood looking at her, then took her hand and brought her to the shower. She was rough in the shower, pushing Kat against the wall several times while washing her. She pushed her mouth against Kat's and forced her head back. She grabbed Kat's hair and pulled it as she washed it.

"You're mine, Katherine, and I will do what I want with you." And she made that clear. She pushed Kat, and watched Kat, and waited. Finally she saw the look she wanted on Kat's face and smiled. "You are mine, Kat. We both know that."

Clarisse wrapped a towel around herself and went back to her own room. Kat took her time dressing. She had made an agreement. She would follow it. And, she knew she would enjoy at least some of it.

Clarisse came back wearing silk. Sleeveless, flared skirt, sunshine yellow. Very summery. She wore two inch heels. Kat also wore flared silk, a floral pattern in pale green. And her three inch stilettoes. Wrong color, wrong heels, but all she had. Both women had applied minimal makeup. Both had worked on their hair. They stood opposite each other. Clarisse' moment before going out.

"You love me, don't you?" She asked.

"Yes, I love you." Kat leaned forward and kissed Clarisse.

"Let me see that look all day."

Clarisse took Kat's hand and led her down the stairs and then out of the inn to the parking lot. It was gravel. Kat had to walk carefully. No running in these shoes. And of course that was the point of them.

It was a fifteen minute drive back to Fulda and to the galleria, their destination for the day. More clothes. They started with shoes this time. White sandals with four inch stilettoes. They would match any outfit. They would make her legs look good, and they would make her reach for the arm of Adam. The point of very expensive shoes.

Then up to the better dress shop. The manager was there. Her smile was huge. She knew profits would flow again. And they did. The women spent three hours trying on one dress after another. The manager never lost patience or tried to hurry them. She rehung one dress, and brought out another. Over and over and over. In the end, Clarisse took two more silks with knee length flared skirts. Sleeveless with deeply scooped necklines. Very deeply scooped. Clarisse had Kat take four silks, also sleeveless and flared, and two more floor length formal gowns. Kat had to wonder would she be going some place without Clarisse, or did Clarisse already have the gowns she needed? Both gowns that Clarisse put on Kat were strapless and sheath cut. It was like she was wrapped tight in satin. She was certain each was a size too small, but she was able to get the zipper closed – barely – and she could see what Clarisse was going for. Her ass was the prominent display. If Adam was an ass man – and he seemed to be – these were the gowns to wear.

Cost? Huge. Clarisse opened her purse and gave the store manager a credit card – Kat's. Kat had spent a year working her balance down. It was now back higher than it had ever been. But she signed the form. Clarisse took the card and put it back in her purse.

They took their purchases back to the car, then walked down the pedestrian mall for lunch. Back to the German restaurant on the corner. Back to an outside table near all the pedestrian traffic. Side by side under the shelter of a large sun umbrella, an umbrella that seemed to frame them as well as shade them.

As soon as a waitress had taken their order (salads and white wine), Kat decided it was time to ask.

"You and Adam are putting me on display. Why?"

"Not a question you get to ask. And not an observation you want Adam or Eric to hear if you want to stay with us. Now. Hold my hand and smile at me. We are lovers, remember?"

Kat slid her chair closer to Clarisse' and took her hand.

"Since we are lovers, I should know more about you. You said in your applications to my workshop you were a grade school teacher in Waukesha. Time for the truth."

"I was once." She paused as the waitress brought their drinks. The wine was cold, and droplets formed on the glasses. Both women lifted their drinks carefully.

"Do you know Waukesha?"

"No."

"It's easy to despise the place. Milwaukee's overflow area. Whites only. Status comes from whether your house has a two or a three car garage. Sophistication is knowing enough to never be caught driving a Buick. But it's really just mile after mile of suburban houses owned by people who are trying to raise kids. They go to sleep every night hoping they don't get laid off the next morning. Pathetic really. Sad."

"And you left."

"Walker killed teachers' unions. Just doing his bit to make the party happy and get rid of all unions. The teachers in my school all talked about quitting, and a few did. One woman knew about Pentagon schools. She applied, and told me all about them. So I applied. A year later I was in Germany. I was dating a guy, and he was all upset. Why could I leave him? I said, 'You can fuck me twice a night between now and when I leave, but I will not spent my life living in Waukesha, Wisconsin.' And I was so right to leave. Germany is so much better."

"And you met Conlon here."

"Sergeant Eric Conlon. I met a million men over here, and he was the least interesting. But he retired a few months after we met and he offered to take me around Europe. Free travel. Yes, I used him. He used me. We mostly went east. Russia. He wanted to see his enemy. I liked St. Petersburg, he hated everything."

The salads arrived, and they picked at them. Kat liked the tomatoes and the chunks of cheese. She and Clarisse both liked the wine and had a second glass. Neither of them touched much of the lettuce.

"And you have a future together?"

"For a while." Clarisse brought her head closer to Kat and lowered her voice. "He is a good travel companion. He always picks up the check."

"I look at him, and I look at you, and I don't see magic."

"With you I have magic. With him I see money. He knows where to find it. He is the one who introduced me to Adam. I know you despise Eric, but you should have seen how hard he worked to get in with Adam. He sent email after email, images of the bomb sites, history of the Gap. He basically wrote the current scenario for Adam. For money. He doesn't want to live on a retired sergeants pay any more than I want to spend my life shopping the sale rack at TJ MAXX."

"And your connection to Adam?"

"Employee. Well paid employee. Eric introduced us. I said I spoke German, French, and Russian, and he hired me to translate his video dialog. Truth is, I am terrible in all three languages, but Google Translate gets me by."

"Three languages?"

"I learned German while over here, and I took French in college. There was a really cute girl in my French class – a foreign exchange student from Moscow – and I took two years of Russian just to show her my interest. We still write sometimes."

"Impressive. And you and Adam?"

"Worried? Yes, sometimes Adam will send Eric off on some project, and Adam and I will get it on while Eric is gone, but he's yours if you want him. So am I."

Kat smiled. She didn't answer. She wasn't sure what she would say if she had.

They kept their table for another half hour. Europe. Meals were leisurely. They watched people pass. Kat was certain two people took her picture, but Clarisse didn't seem to notice, and Kat didn't say anything. They sipped their wine. A third glass was tempting, but they stopped at two. They sat in the shade of their umbrella, enjoying the world. Kat understood Clarisse's love for the place. Kat had loved Germany too. But the Army had moved Kat, and after those moves, her lodge in the forest seemed a good place to rest and rehabilitate. And, maybe a place to hide.

Clarisse got them moving eventually. Another walk. Not back to the car, but towards the train station. Heinrichstrasse. Just a block from the station and the tracks. Farther this time. Kat had stopped her at Rhonstrasse last time and pointed to a building. Clarisse ignored it this time and walked another block. Schutzenhaus. Short street with lots of traffic. The train station parking lot was at one end, Highway 458 just a block away. Cheap apartments. No one with any money would live with so much traffic noise. Clarisse walked to the middle of the block and stopped.

"If you lie to me again, really bad things will happen. Or you can finally tell me the truth and join the team." Clarisse paused. "Which shitty apartment did you rent?"

Kat looked at the apartments. They really were shabby. Shabby in a country where care was taken. Grass was mowed, houses painted, sidewalks kept clear. All that was true here too, but there was no hiding the cheap construction. Simple rectangles. No balconies or painted beams or allusions to gothic architecture. Brick rectangles. Cream colored. Three in a row. No effort to differentiate between them. Tricycles sat out front. Cheap housing for young families.

Should Kat give the right address? Obviously they already knew which apartment had been hers. This was not about getting information. It was about getting her commitment. It was to tie her to whatever they were doing. And to tie her to the bedroom nuke.

Kat pointed to the building on the left.

"Second floor, rear."

"Thank you. Germans keep good records. They have phone records going back to 1945. You are listed in the local directory as Katherine Johnson, 103 Schutzenhaus, Apt 103. We knew your apartment. What we didn't know was whether we had your trust."

"Trust requires time."

"Do we have it now?"

"You might if you told me why we have to stand here right in front of the building. I am guessing our picture is being taken here. Do you want me poised pointing at the building?"

"You are very suspicious."

"Adam says he will not tell the world about my apartment and its contents. Yet you have brought me near this place three times. Of course I am suspicious."

"Adam does not know I brought you here. I am here just to connect you to your past. I see you and your apartment and I think of you as a young woman."

"A young woman sharing an apartment with a nuclear weapon."

"A brave young woman taking a huge risk. I see you here and love you more."

"Are we done now?"

"We will wait a minute to see if we are being watched. And our security people will park a car nearby to see if there is any interest later in the day. I think the man who killed your Colonel is in Russia, but we may have resurrected more ghosts than we know. It doesn't hurt to be careful."

They stood talking for another fifteen minutes. Not saying much of consequence. Comments on the quality of the buildings, Kat's memories of her apartment. They filled fifteen minutes, then left.

"You have done your job. Now you get your reward." Clarisse walked away from the tracks. Kat walked as fast as she could in her shoes. The street was noisy, the memories unpleasant. They walked back toward the pedestrian area, not toward the car. After about five blocks they came to a row of floral shops, and then a bridal shop. Clarisse stopped and looked in the windows. Kat studied Clarisse.

"You and Eric? Congratulations." Clarisse shook her head and smiled.

"You and Jim."

"We won't have a formal wedding."

"That I can believe. I can imagine the ceremony. The two of you on the shore of your lake. You in a sundress, him in a beige polo short. A casual wedding for a casual marriage for a casual relationship. Once a week Jim."

"Hey."

"Let's see if we can light a fire under the guy." Clarisse quickly entered the bridal shop. Kat followed.

It was clear Clarisse had come prepared. She introduced herself to the clerk, and held up her phone with a picture of the gown she wanted. The clerk nodded and led Kat and Clarisse back into a fitting room. She had half a dozen gowns ready.

It took an hour. Kat tried on each gown as it was handed to her. She was not allowed to voice an opinion. Clarisse had a particular style in mind, and that was the style Kat would wear. Every gown was some variant of the same basic look – off the shoulder, loops around her upper arms, flowing skirts, layers of petticoats underneath. White satin of course. Kat was on her eighth or ninth dress when Clarisse decided she had found the right one. No surprise, it felt one size too small. The bodice was tight. Clarisse pinched some material to make it tighter. She motioned to the clerk who got out a dozen pins and held the bodice in that position. The woman also pinned the hem at the length needed for a tall woman in four inch heels. The fabric barely made it.

The three women stared into the mirrors all around the room. The dress was white, it was beautiful, and it perfectly followed the curve of her back. Kat might not be able to breathe in it, but Jim would be very pleased to carry her anywhere.

Kat looked at Clarisse. "It's beautiful, but..."

"Save your objections. Just stand. Look at yourself in the mirrors. Feel the gown around you. You have waited to be a bride. Be a bride. Jim stands next to you, and for the first time in your relationship, you get his full, undivided attention. He wants you in his arms. He promises to love you. And he will."

The clerk brought in a head piece with a veil. She set it on Kat's head and arranged the veil around Kat's shoulders. It was a silky gauze. Kat left it down and looked through it at the mirrors. She put her hands together where she would hold flowers. She looked like a bride. And Jim? She stared at the mirror for a very long time. Jim.

Clarisse stepped up and raised her veil.

"Let me be the first to kiss the bride." She wrapped her arms around Kat, bent her back, and kissed her. She held the kiss. Kat wasn't sure she was ever going to stop. Finally Clarisse raised her face, but kept Kat leaning back, looking up at her. "Jim wants you. Adam wants you. I want you. You will have a long and interesting married life." She held Kat in that position and kissed her again. "Long and interesting." She smiled at Kat and then let her straighten up.

Kat went back to looking in the mirrors. She could see herself from every angle. And in every angle she liked what she saw. She was pretty sure Jim would like it too. Once a week Jim.

She saw Clarisse smiling at her and taking an endless series of pictures on her phone. The woman had put her in that dress. Involving herself in Kat's marriage. Why? Kat knew she was being played. There were games inside of games being played here. Kat might be an investigator, but she was also a piece on the chess board. She was being moved about. Moved to marriage? Why?

Kat stood motionless. Whatever the game, she decided she would take the dress. The price of the gown took her right up to her credit limit. Clarisse gave the clerk the card, Kat signed, Clarisse took the card. Kat carefully slid out of the dress. Carefully, and slowly. She didn't want to get stuck by a pin, but, she knew, she also didn't want to take the dress off. When she had it off, she held it in front of herself and continued to look in the mirrors. Finally she gave it to the clerk. For some reason she hugged the lady. The clerk just smiled and congratulated Kat on her upcoming marriage.

Chapter 21

The Girl Who Slept with a Nuke

It was a fifteen minute drive back to the inn. Clarisse filled the time with talk of wedding preparations. Where to have the reception, what kinds of flowers to use, who to invite. It was nuts. Kat watched the countryside go by and tried to focus. She was in Fulda for a murder investigation. Not only was she not making any progress on that, but her situation kept getting stranger. She was spending thousands of dollars on clothes she would never wear, and sharing a bed with both Clarisse and Adam. She just bought a dress to marry a man thousands of miles away. If Clarisse would just shut up so she could think.

Finally, they got back to the inn. Kat folded her gowns over her arm and climbed the stairs to her room. Silence. She hung her dresses carefully in the closet, then sat on the bed to unstrap her new shoes. Four inch heels. Just what she didn't need. Focus. If she could find the right question, she could get a start on this investigation. To begin with, how much did they really know about her apartment? Did Conlon know the whole story?

Good question. Then Clarisse let herself in. She was across the room in a heartbeat. Stronger hands than Kat expected. She grabbed Kat under the arm pits, lifted and pushed Kat back onto the bed, and climbed on top of her.

"Hi." She dropped all her weight onto Kat, held her head with both hands, and kissed her. Kat lay still and looked up at Clarisse.

"What did Conlon tell you about the apartment?"

"I told you, no questions. You are here to please me. So, please me or leave."

"No passport, no phone, no wallet, no regular shoes. It seems to me you are pretty desperate that I stay. Why?"

"You can leave. It might be inconvenient, but no one has a gun to your head." Clarisse was still holding Kat's head in both hands, and had her full weight on her. Kat could also feel her brace her legs. She was getting ready for a wrestling match. She would do all she could to keep Kat right where she was. Okay. Kat thought she had learned something. Her presence mattered. For some reason, her presence was important. Why?

"Just answer a simple question. How much has Conlon been telling you?"

"I don't care how big you are. You really don't want the fight in this bed, or the fight downstairs. So. No bargaining." She held her position and stared down at Kat. She waited for time to pass, a point to be made. Then she continued. "Ask nicely, and I might tell you. But don't ask again, Katherine. Don't ask again."

"Please, Clarisse. How much did Conlon tell you? And how does that desk jockey know anything?"

"Conlon said half the First Armored Division knew. Not too hard. Really shady neighborhood, but there was always one officer who rented an apartment there. Why would an officer do that? What was in that apartment? And then they moved you in. Yet another officer. All kinds of rumors started. And then there was a joke. Johnson? Sure the girl who sleeps with a nuke."

"A joke."

"Yes. A joke."

"So Conlon learned I had a nuke in my apartment because of a joke?"

"He said everyone was sure of it. Now. End of questions. The boys will be back sometime this evening." Clarisse leaned down and kissed Kat again. "You are mine until then. Now do your job. I want to feel your hands doing the right things in the right places."

Kat did what she was expected to do, but she also tried to work her way through the puzzle. They knew about Kat's nuke. Half the division? Bad security. An officer renting a shabby apartment. Stupid. It was bound to draw attention. But still, there never should have been a leak. Not over a nuke.

She needed to end this thing. Is that what Charlie was coming to talk to her about? If Clarisse would just get off her chest and let her think, but the woman had her face at Kat's ear and wouldn't stop whispering. She and Kat, Adam and Kat, Jim and Kat, she and Kat. Endless commentary about what would happen in this bed and a lengthy series of future beds. Kat put her hands where Clarisse wanted, and lost her concentration time and again.

It was Clarisse who broke things off. She wanted dinner. She climbed off Kat and pulled her into the bathroom and in front of the large mirror. They stood one behind the other, combing their hair, and working on their makeup. They did each other's lipstick. That got them both hot. They got their shoes on and their silks straightened, and took the stairs smiling at each other.

Dinner for two out on the porch. They sat with their chairs touching. The food was heavy and covered in a dark gravy. Clarisse wanted Kat to know all about her and Eric. Their travels of the last three years. Eric would drive down some highways in Eastern Europe smiling. She would ask why, and he would describe simulations they had done. Air cover in place, American tanks would roll down this highway doing sixty, cannons destroying anything with a red star on it. He would point out places the Russians would try to hide, then explain how quickly they would become fire and smoke. And he would smile. The man really hated the Russians.

After the second glass of wine – Rhone red again – she talked about their trip to St. Petersburg.

"What a mistake. Never do I take him near Russia again. The city is beautiful. All he says is, 'sure the parts built by the czars are beautiful. Then the commies came in and look what they built.' Never got past that. I even hired a local guide. Yuri. College kid with really good English. He took us to places the average tourist doesn't go. Interesting clubs, and coffee shops. We had long talks. Well, me and Yuri. Eric sat there looking at his watch and pointing out all the shabby workmanship he saw. And there is, by the way. Don't ever hire a Russian builder. But still, Yuri was a nice guy, and there were nice parts of the city if you knew where to look."

Kat had already finished her second glass of wine and was watching for the waiter. An evening of travel stories was going to require another glass of wine. Maybe two.

"But, I won't take him back to Russia, even though I am curious to see Moscow. The Kremlin looks interesting, don't you think?"

"Sure." Kat looked over her wine glass toward the driveway. Weren't those guys ever going to get back?

"When this is over, we plan to go to Italy. Not Rome. Too dirty and noisy. I'm thinking Florence, and then Venice. Maybe a month in each. Maybe two. Then the Greek isles when it gets cold."

"And his pay from the website will cover all this?"

"Wow. You have so much to learn. YouTube is a money machine." Clarisse had a huge smile. A proud smile. Kat thought she wanted to gloat. They had money. Money to park themselves in this winery. Clarisse was going on about the villa they planned to rent in Florence, and Kat was working on her fourth glass of Rhone Red when the boys got back.

Big grins, shoulders back, ties perfect, they walked over in their thousand dollar suits, pulled their women to their feet, and then threw them over their shoulder. One arm across their lady's ass, they climbed the stairs without saying a word. They had conquered some world somewhere, and now they were going to take the spoils.

Kat let Adam do it. When he dropped his shoulder, she knew what he would do. It was how you carried wounded men off the battle field. Or how you carried women in the rape and pillage victory celebration after battles of centuries past. It actually hurt her stomach, but she held still while he climbed the stairs. And she spread her legs when he threw her down on the bed.

"I take it you had a good day."

"Yes, and I plan to have a very good night." He had his coat off and was pulling his tie down. Kat raised her feet so she could get her shoes off, and then she got her panties down. By this time Adam was naked and climbing over her. She wanted to talk, but she knew better than to interrupt a good fucking.

And he was very good. She was surprised again by how broad his back was as she wrapped her arms around him. And he kissed well. He was excited, but he never jammed his mouth into hers, teeth clattering and lips swelling afterward. He was gentle with his mouth, strong with his hands, and deep when he penetrated. He had it all, and she thoroughly enjoyed it.

She wrapped her legs around him when he was done, and pulled him tight. They lay together like that as they kissed and slowly cooled down. Neither was in any hurry to move, but finally he pulled free and got under the duvet. Kat took off her silk and pulled her nightgown from under her pillow. It felt cool as it flowed over her and down her sides. She slid tight against Adam, her head on his chest, a hand up by his cheek.

"I bought a wedding dress today."

"Clarisse texted me a picture. You look amazing. I was thinking about that picture all the way back."

"I've known him three years."

"Slow mover, isn't he?"

"I guess that's between him and me."

"When you saw yourself in the mirror, did you see how good you looked? What kind of man waits three years for a woman who looks like you?"

"Let's change the subject. Prior to the bridal shop, Clarisse and I took a walk. We stopped and stared at an apartment building. You know which one."

"Conlon knew the general outlines. The phone company provided the details. Crappy security, but people talk, Katherine. O clubs, too many drinks, people trying to be funny. Jokes about the girl who slept with a nuke. Eric was here the same years you were. How hard do you think it was to put two and two together to figure out who the girl was? Once you knew the girl, you knew the address."

"I wasn't a 'girl'. I was a Second Lieutenant. A commissioned officer in the American Army."

"And you slept with a bomb."

"The bomb was the best thing that happened to me over here." Kat rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Adam slid an arm under her neck and pulled her tight against him. She didn't stop him.

"A woman MP. Back in the 90s I couldn't go near combat, but I sure as hell wasn't going to be someone's glorified secretary. Excuse me. Administrative assistant. But MPs are cops, and cops are all about control. They weren't going to give me a bit of it. My captain gave me the worst noncoms and the shittiest details. If a job had to be done at three a.m. my platoon was assigned. If it was cold or wet, my platoon was assigned to be out in it. They wanted my soldiers to know they had the worst duty because they had a woman lieutenant. They wanted my soldiers to hate me, and they did."

"You were in for twenty."

"Fuck right I was. They wanted me to do my three and go away. Hell no. I reupped. I wasn't leaving the army until I at least made captain. Then nine eleven happened, and Afghanistan, and everyone's plans changed."

"And you left the nuke behind."

"You know that's not what happened. The nuke was gone by the end of my first year. But the nuke was there when I needed it. That's what's funny about this whole thing. I loved that nuke. Sleeping with it? Hell, yes. If I could have, I would have kissed it good night. I had to eat shit all day. Uncooperative prisoner? Send in the girl lieutenant. Back up? Hell no. Let her take on whatever pile of shit was tearing up a cell. I arrived a first degree black belt. I left a third degree in street fighting. If I came into your cell, you were going to need a medic when I was done. I made my reputation one fight at a time."

"So they moved the nuke to your apartment."

"Jesus, Adam. You think there's a taxi service for nuclear weapons? It went into the apartment wall in 1974 and stayed there. A shitty apartment in the worst part of town – the part of town right next to the train tracks and adjacent to a major highway. The apartment was always rented to officers. Usually an MP.

"I took one look at the place and thought, these bastards really hate me. Look where they put me. That night Major Charles Brandt paid me a visit. He took me into the bathroom, had me unscrew the medicine cabinet and take a look. I couldn't believe it. Then he took me through the safety protocols. There were four enlisted men in the apartment below. I was never to talk to them. There was a motion detector on the device that would tell them of a problem. My apartment door was steel and locked in a particular way. My 45 was to stay at my side. I would allow no one into my apartment. I was assigned to this apartment for the length of my duty in Germany.

"And, I was in the apartment because he selected me. He trusted me. He respected me. I was the officer he wanted. And, there was something in the way he said it made me believe him. I felt proud. I took shit all day, and sometimes all night, but when I got back to my apartment, I was proud. I was entrusted with a secret nuclear weapon. Entrusted by a man who became my mentor. A man who was killed last week. And, if I ever find out you had anything to do with it, I will take you out. No trial. All punishment."

"And the device is gone now."

"Of course. They were all taken out in 96."

"So they say."

"Oh shit." Kat sat up and grabbed Adam's chin in her fist. "Is that what this is about? You think there's a nuclear weapon waiting for you behind that bathroom wall? You're a fucking moron."

"No." Adam looked up at Kat. He made no effort to free his face from her fist. He lay still and looked up at her. "I don't want a nuclear weapon. I don't need a nuclear weapon. You forget I'm in the fantasy business. Trump kept morons going for years over a nonexistent birth certificate that was right there in front of everyone's eyes. Reality just gets in the way."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm describing a bit of history in an interesting way. I imagine my college students and how they would enjoy hearing about the Gap. In the process, I am also doing damage control. Really. I am on your side." He ran a hand up her back. He stroked her several times, then raised his hand to her head and stroked her hair.

"Tell me how you're on my side in this."

"My god you looked good in that wedding dress. I would have you right there on the floor of the church."

"You're not getting me. Jim is. Now tell me how your Fulda story is somehow good for me."

"First tell me you love me."

"Don't play with me, Adam. This is serious. Conlon told you something that should never be on your website."

"It won't be. At least not in the original form. Conlon took viewers to eight sites. But they were out in the woods or along roads out in the country. If they go up, bad things happen, but mostly it is mud and trees that suffer. As for the other two mines, I will tell no one about those two sites. But, I can still make you famous. Conlon and I found a farmhouse near the old border. We rent a room, and show you sitting there. Brave woman. Remote farmhouse surrounded by Russian tanks. A story only found on the Cave."

Kat punched him in the chest, then drew back her fist to punch him again. He was quick. He blocked her punch, then flipped out from under her, knocking her onto her back in the process. She lifted her foot to kick him, then stopped herself. She could kick in his chest if she chose to. She chose not to. Instead, she dropped onto her back and rested her hands at her sides.

"Adam, that's not going to happen. I am sorry I hit you. I promise not to hurt you. But the apartment story does not get told. Not in that or any other form."

Adam sat next to her, massaging his chest and catching his breath.

"I'm a pretty big guy. But you could have hurt me, couldn't you?"

"I'm sorry."

"And you don't want to be famous."

"No. I don't want to be famous." She started to roll out of the bed. He took her hand.

"Katherine, I'll do what you ask of me." Kat stopped where she was and sat up facing him.

"Thank you. I think I'll go home tomorrow. Maybe Clarisse found the right Russian, maybe he'll turn up. I'll leave it to her. I'll even pass on Conlon. He gets to keep his teeth a little longer. I think I have done all I can do here." She made another move toward the edge of the bed, but Adam kept hold of her hand.

"Stay with me a few more days. Please." She saw pleading in his eyes. He really did want her to stay.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow." Kat lay back on the bed. Adam lay next to her. They touched each other, but said nothing as they drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 22

It Starts with a Car

When she woke, Kat slipped closer to Adam. She laid her head on his chest, reached an arm over to his far shoulder, and pressed her hips against his. He brought one arm around her back to hold her to him. The other hand slowly stroked her hair. The window was open and a light breeze flowed through the room. There was birdsong. It might be warmer later, but right now the room felt comfortably cool. A good temperature to slip close and hold a lover.

"I would like us to go away together for a few days. Just us. We should talk about us." Adam continued to stroke her hair. Kat was slow to respond.

"There is no us."

"I'll move to Amberg."

"Now you're just being silly. I'll stay with you a few more days, then I'm going back to Amberg, and you are staying here."

"Clarisse showed me pictures of Amberg. It looks beautiful."

"Don't lie. You would hate it there. You would be gone inside a week."

"You like it there."

"I wanted someplace green. Someplace quiet."

"After Iraq and Afghanistan."

"After Iraq and Afghanistan and twenty years of making decisions. Too many. Too quick. Too much risk my soldiers would pay for my mistakes."

"You've had four years since then. You built a business. You made new friends. Time to find someone. Time to stop living alone. Time to stop waiting for Jim."

"You?"

"Why not me? I won't be there with you just once a week. I will hold you every morning. I will sit with you every night. We will walk along the shore of your lake. I will take your hand and lead you to our bed."

"You. In Amberg."

"I can make videos from anywhere. Why not Amberg?"

"Never going to happen. Let's just settle on this. Take me where you want to take me. Make love to me every night. Peel back more layers of the onion. Help me find who killed Charlie. Then wave to me when I get back on the plane."

"I'll take you to Munich today. Switzerland tomorrow. We will talk. When we are done, you will marry me, not Jim."

"Just hold me for a while. You have good hands."

Adam held her. He needed a shave, but she still liked putting her hand to his cheek. She also liked the way he stroked her ass, sliding his hand along her satin nightgown, and then pulling her tight against him. He had a sweet smile. They talked. Mostly about nothing, really. The local wine, their impressions of the inn, restaurants they liked in Fulda. Quiet talk, faces close, hands trying to please.

Eventually they showered, but there too their interactions were slow, soft, casual. They washed each other, and held each other, but neither got aggressive. The best moment came when she kissed him, and held it, while the water flowed over them. Somehow that kiss felt even more intimate.

Adam suggested a big breakfast. Theirs would be a long day. He just smiled when Kat asked what they would be doing. Great German bread makes great German toast, and Kat had several slices plus several eggs. Adam ate well too. They were finishing their coffee when Conlon and Clarisse finally came down. Conlon said he would be ready when Adam needed him, but he didn't say why Adam might need him. Adam just smiled and led Kat back up to their room.

"We will be gone three nights. The dress you are wearing now will be fine for today. I suggest two longer dresses for evening, and two more like the dress you have on for day time." He was wearing a "casual" shirt and trousers, both of which had designer labels and cost hundreds of dollars, so Kat had a pretty good idea of the expected dress code. He packed a suit bag in about ten minutes and waited for Kat. Kat was proud of traveling light, but this time she needed a bag for four gowns, plus another bag for underwear, cosmetics, and nightgowns. She couldn't remember the last time she had needed two bags for a trip. On the plus side, since only the heels she now wore matched all the dresses she packed, she was saved that bother.

Why Munich? He wouldn't say. "Let it be a surprise." Fine. She carried her own bags down the stairs, and then followed Adam and Conlon out to the car. No expensive clothes for Conlon, so apparently he was dropping them off somewhere. Probably the train station.

Adam went back into the inn leaving Kat and Conlon standing by the car. It was the first time the two of them had been alone together. Kat stood a couple feet from Conlon and looked directly into his face.

"On the flight here, I promised myself I would beat you bloody for your part in these videos."

Conlon's response should have been easy. A simple apology. An effort at an explanation. Just "sorry" would have done it. Instead, he looked her up and down, saw a woman in a silk dress and four inch heels, and smirked.

"Really?" And he balled both hands into fists.

A karate punch is different from a prize fight punch. There is no effort to drop the right foot back for leverage, no effort to follow through with the right shoulder. Both feet brace, the knees bend, the butt drops a few inches. Both shoulders lock into position parallel to the target. The right fist rises up from the hip, turns so the first two knuckles of the fist are up and forward. And the knuckles hit center mass, coming fast, and coming as if launched from a block wall. The knuckles would have smashed Conlon's sternum, but, being a coward, he had already started to back away. Still, he was knocked back several feet, landed on his ass, and had his head snap back against the gravel driveway. Had it been concrete, he would have died.

"KAT." Clarisse came flying out of somewhere. She jumped between Kat and Conlon, her hands out to hold Kat back. Conlon rolled to his side, his hands going to his chest.

"Bitch." He was gasping for breath, so the word came out almost as a squeal.

"It's Major Bitch to you, asshole." Kat took a step forward, but Clarisse grabbed her shoulders and held her back. "You strut around ground that good men risked their lives to protect. What did you ever do but guard a desk? You should be embarrassed to be seen in this town."

"I showed people dirt and grass, all of which was public record." He was barely audible. He struggled to sit up as he shouted between breaths. "Be grateful I hid your apartment, nuke girl."

"We're leaving." Adam was back. He pointed at the car. "Clarisse, you drive. Katherine, in the back with me. Now." He pushed Clarisse toward the car, then grabbed Kat. Kat turned and pushed against his chest.

"We settle this. Now."

"You and I will settle this. In the car." He grabbed both her forearms and pressed his hips against hers to force her toward the back door of the car. Kat snapped both her elbows up to break his grip. But she also took a step back. Adam kept his body tight against hers, still pushing as he opened the back door and pressed her inside.

"He was overdue for a beating." Kat slid along the seat. Adam pressed himself tight against her as he got in. Clarisse already had the car started and quickly backed out of the parking spot.

"You were beating a story teller because you didn't like the story."

"It's not his story to tell."

"Do you plan to tell it?"

Kat made no reply. She looked out the back window. Conlon was sitting up, leaning on one hand pressed down into the gravel. He was alone. Several people at the inn could see him from the front porch, but they didn't come to his aid. Somehow that seemed wrong. But Kat still wanted to go back and punch Conlon again.

"He brought me the story, and he helped narrate it, but I was the fool that added the image of Colonel Brandt. Do you plan to punch me again?"

Kat looked out the window. She did want to punch him again. But she was also glad when he took her hand. She saw Clarisse looking back at her in the rearview mirror. She saw concern in her eyes. Kat moved her shoulders to loosen up. She did her breathing. After ten repetitions, she leaned back against the seat and exhaled to a count of four. It was over.

Clarisse drove them into town, but not to the train station. She stopped at the BMW dealer at the south end of town. A shiny back BMW was centered in the showroom windows. It turned out to be Kat's.

"It's a wedding present. Just a little early."

Kat stared at the car, and then at Adam. The salesman opened the trunk so they could store their bags, then he gave Kat the keys with a big smile. Clarisse took multiple pictures.

"Congratulations on your marriage." The salesman shook Kat's hand. She took the keys and stared at Adam. He stood, returned her stare, and smiled.

There were forms to fill out. Adam had already paid for the car, but Kat had to sign the ownership papers. Adam took her passport out of his pocket when it was needed, and put it back in his pocket when done. The paper signing took about fifteen minutes. Then Kat and the salesman sat in the car for over an hour as he explained how to work things like the gps, the climate controls, cruise control, etc. Lots of pushing on a large touch screen.

And then, it was hers. The salesman got out, Adam got in, they opened the doors on the showroom, and Kat drove out into the parking lot.

"Explain this to me."

"The car?"

"The gift. I haven't agreed to marry you, and even if I did, there is no need for you to buy me a car."

"My wife should live well. I hope you will be my wife. If you say 'no,' well the car will be a great way for you to remember me."

"I don't even know what I am driving, other than it is leather everything, black, and big."

"BMW Series 8."

"8? I thought the 7 series was the top of the line, and they go for over a hundred grand."

"I thought you might like something nicer."

They were still sitting in the parking lot of the dealer. Kat had signed the papers, but she still wasn't sure if she should accept. She had some understanding of what BMWs cost. She knew some officers who drove a 5 series. She had once seen a 7 outside an O club. An 8? Was he trying to buy her?

"This will look ridiculous in Amberg."

"It will look beautiful wherever you drive it. You, by the way, look perfect at the wheel. A beautiful, well dressed lady. They should be taking pictures and using you in their ads."

"I assume we are taking this to Munich?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I will drive us there. But that does not mean I will marry you, and it does not mean I will keep the car."

"And the wedding dress you bought?"

"That was for Jim." Kat leaned over and worked on the gps. "Where in Munich?"

"Hotel Kempinski. It's in the older part of town. You will love it."

Kat touched several more places on the screen, and they were set. Except they weren't. Kat almost crashed getting out of the lot. And she almost deployed the air bags the first time she hit the brakes.

"I have driven Humvees for twenty years, and now I drive a fourteen passenger bus. Brakes take pressure, and steering takes muscle. This car you bought me? Just a touch and things happen."

"The world should work like this. Just a touch, and things happen for you."

Kat kept her speed down, was careful at every corner, and eventually made it to a highway. Munich was a three hour drive according to her gps. She spent half an hour in the slow lane. Then she discovered she had a turbo charged engine. It turns out an 8 series can move along.

It was her second hour on the highway before she started talking.

"Thank you. I will probably return the car to you, but I do like driving it."

"You've been to Munich before?"

"Every Oktoberfest. We would take a bus down there. Ten a.m. pickup for all the GIs who had been picked up by the local cops the night before. Some days two busses, some days five. I always meant to go down on my own some time, but my duties kept me busy."

"Well, today is the day."

It turned out to be a pretty good day. The Kempinski was a five star hotel near everything a tourist would want to see. Five stories tall, it looked like a classic, with gold everything on the street level, and beautiful rooms on every floor. But they just dropped their bags and went out to see the city.

First stop, first floor of Munich City Hall (Rathaus) for lunch. Good food, nice ambiance, but they were out of there pretty fast. It was already early afternoon.

Quick stop? Shoes.

"Adam, I can't walk this city in four inch heels. I will wear these shoes in the hotel and at our restaurant this evening, but for today, I need shoes I can walk in." Adam just nodded. Shoe stores were everywhere. They went into the first they saw, and Kat emerged wearing sneakers. Adam carried the bag with her heels.

Next? The art museum. Two years in Germany, Kat had never been there. Once she saw it, she was embarrassed she had missed it. Main feature? An incredibly long hallway with art works on both sides. They spent almost two hours walking that hallway. The final treat was a pair of Van Goghs. She had never seen one before. The museum was busy, but not so crowded that Kat felt the need to rush on. She didn't. She stood holding Adam's arm, looking at the color and the brush strokes, sometimes stepping closer, sometimes backing away.

The English Gardens followed. It was a hot afternoon, and a long walk in the shade felt glorious. They stopped near a carousel and bought ice cream cones. Kat was careful about her dress, but a park, a carousel, and ice cream seemed perfect.

"Adam, I love all this. You know you are getting laid tonight, right?"

"I did hope."

"When do you plan to tell me why we are here?"

"I have my speech planned for dinner."

"In the meantime, tell me something I am curious about. Do you miss teaching?"

"I don't miss the crappy pay, the tight scheduling, or all the paper grading. But in every class there were always one or two students who seemed less like students and more like people. Not just faces looking for a grade as they moved towards whatever ambitions they had. People. Interesting, thoughtful, surprising, and usually nice to be around. I never had any interest in dating my students, but I did like sitting and talking with some of them, even if it was just for a few minutes before class."

"And now?"

"Now I am an old jock who gets to travel the world telling stories. And, I am very well paid to tell my stories. If you're smart, you'll marry me for my money."

"Let me see more of the professor who sits and talks to teenagers and sees them as people."

"Wait until I get to Amberg. I will be a regular guest at Amberg High."

"Amberg hasn't had a school of any kind in decades."

"That small?"

"That small."

"No problem. We'll import some teenagers for me to talk with."

Ice cream done, they found a place to wash their hands, and continued their walk. As the sun got lower, Adam steered them back towards the commercial area of town.

Hofbrauhaus was a tavern Kat had been to twenty years earlier. It was big, cheap, and touristy. A four piece Umpa band complete with lederhosen performed most of the night, mostly emphasizing the tuba. Meals were bratwurst, mashed potatoes, and sour kraut. Customers sat at long tables. Beers were served quickly by girls in dirndls. Privates loved the place. They could afford it, and to them this was the "real" Germany. Kat and her MPs had probably been in the place fifty times to pick up some soldier who couldn't handle his beer. Better he went with them than with the local police.

Kat had no idea why Adam was bringing her to such a cheap restaurant. Not only did he bring her in, but he ordered dinner. This was going to be their evening. Disappointment did not begin to describe her reaction.

"I think I get it. You taught history. You know this was the tavern where Hitler hung out. Meetings with fellow monsters in the back room. From here out into the streets for the Bierhall putsch. But do we have to eat here?"

"Remember I make videos. I like having the right background when I tell my stories."

"I thought you were going to propose tonight. Please tell me you are not going to do it here."

"I have already proposed a half dozen times. Feel free to say 'yes' whenever you wish. But that is not why we are here."

"Thank God."

"I want to talk about Hitler, but not until we have had at least two beers and a bratwurst."

"Hitler and bratwurst. You sure know how to treat a lady."

Adam ordered, and beer and food came fast. And their table filled up. Tourists. Kids in their twenties. Kat thought Italian. They talked among themselves, ignoring Kat and Adam. Kat leaned across the table so she could hear Adam over the loud talk and tuba.

"You know what happened here. Hitler found his brethren and then his wealthy supporters, and things moved from that. Let's ignore him and talk about Germany. World War I ends. Peace negotiations take forever, and they are nasty. Germany is to lose land and all its industrial output to pay reparations. They don't see themselves as the guys who started the war, they see themselves as victims. Worse, veterans feel like they were doing fine in the war. They were sabotaged by people in Berlin. Which people? Communists, Jews, others. But the main point was that Germany was being mistreated, and could have won the war if there had been no German traitors."

"With you so far, but the tuba is not making it easy."

"First summary. Their pride is hurt."

"Got it."

"Now comes the Depression. Wall Street collapses, markets around the world crash, Germany has incredible inflation, and suddenly everyone is broke, and even if they aren't, they fear they soon will be. Second summary. Ordinary people are scared."

"Still with you, but I would love it if the band took a break." Kat looked around the crowded room. She was one of five women not wearing a t-shirt. Older, and way overdressed, she felt like someone's mother who happened into a post-prom party. Meanwhile, Adam wanted to keep on about Hitler.

"Hitler was a story teller. In multiple media. First a book, then on stage, then radio, then television. He was the first world leader on television."

He looked at Kat, waiting for a reaction. Kat nodded and managed a smile. She wanted paper and pencil so she could write out a list of all the reasons she hated the place. When her food came she mentally added "cold potatoes." The band kept going, proving why the polka had died out as a popular dance.

"Summary three. Stressed population. Gifted and innovative story teller."

"If the next words out of your mouth are Trump, I am going to kick you under the table. I refuse to eat bad food and hear bad music only to hear yet another explanation for Trump."

"Well, Trump does come to mind. And we do have a stressed population. Life expectancy is dropping in the U.S. Alarm bells should be ringing from sea to shining sea. Fertility rates are down. We have serious problems. Great time for a good storyteller and innovative communications. But the name I was going to add was Adam Taylor."

"We are registered in a five star hotel. Could you tell me more about this Adam Taylor in our hotel? I'll bet they have a bar and everything."

"You don't want to finish your meal?"

"I don't want to start this meal." Kat pushed her plate toward the middle of the table and sat back in her seat. She waited. It took Adam a minute, but finally he smiled and pushed his plate away too.

"You should marry a wealthy man. You are really picky about your food."

"Take me out of this place, buy me a glass of wine, and I'll let a wealthy man have his way with me." The other people at their table might have been Italian, but they knew enough English to look and smile when they heard Kat's comment. Kat nodded to them, and stood. Adam went looking for his waitress to pay the bill.

Kat stepped outside. It was a beautiful summer evening. Warm, but not hot. A light breeze. People were out. The Hofbrauhaus was on one of the pedestrian malls. Most of the stores were open. People wandered the streets, gazing in windows, talking among themselves. Kat enjoyed the relative quiet. No tubas and no crowds yelling to be heard.

She wasn't sure what to say to Adam when he came out. She didn't want to be rude, but she didn't want a German history lesson either. She had heard plenty of them back when she had been assigned here. Were there lessons to be learned from German history? Sure. But there were lots of countries, lots of history, and lots of lessons.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Adam came out the door and joined Kat out on the street.

"And I am sorry to leave in a rush, but I prefer quieter restaurants."

"With less history?"

"Yes, that too."

Kat turned and started walking in the general direction of their hotel. Adam walked alongside, both of them looking in shop windows. They probably walked three blocks before Kat stopped and took Adam's hand.

"Can we just jump to the end of the story? We were at times of stress, innovative communications technologies, and storytelling. What's that got to do with you and me?"

"It's our future together. You and me telling stories. We open the Amberg Video Studios and fill YouTube with our stories. You and me." Adam put a hand to Kat's cheek and gave her a huge smile. "You and me." He kissed her, then took her hand and pulled her the last several blocks to their hotel.

Chapter 23

Five Star Hotels

The Hotel Kempinski had a beautiful bar at street level. Adam led Kat in, and they quickly found a table to one side. He ordered a bottle of wine and several appetizers. Kat used the time to change her shoes. Heels seemed much more appropriate for the venue.

"Let's play a game." Adam waited until the wine had arrived and they had each gone through their first glass. Kat nibbled on some sort of pork strips and nodded her assent.

"Let's assume we have built the video studio."

"In Amberg." Kat was having trouble visualizing a video studio in Amberg.

"Yes. Maybe on your lake."

"You could buy one of the other cottages on the lake. They are always for sale."

"Good. Each morning you and I maul each other in bed, go crazy in the shower, and then walk around the lake to our studio."

"I'm with you so far." Kat cleaned pork grease from her fingers and had some more wine.

"We want to tell a story that millions will pay to watch. They're scared about their mortgage. They're scared about losing their job. They're scared the kids will do drugs. Give me a start. What story helps them through their day?"

"You mean do we tell them all their problems are due to immigrants, or do we go with the old stand by and blame Jews?"

"Fifty websites and the tweeter in chief already have that ground covered. Give me something new. What might be happening around Amberg that would interest people?"

"Adam, if Amberg interested people, the one restaurant in town would have more than five tables."

"You are talking about the Amberg you see. We are now in videoland. Anything can happen here. Aliens land, Bigfoot drives a truck into town, farm fields have strange patterns burned into them. Help me here, Katherine. Loosen up. Have another glass of wine." Adam refilled her glass, and then his own.

"People joke about Bigfoot sometimes."

"Great. How many are there?"

"What? Just one, I guess."

"Must get lonely don't you think? I think there should be sixty three in his tribe, living seven point two miles west of town. Details. Specifics. Makes things much more believable."

"All right. Let me try." Kat paused, and added to the story. "They will take odd jobs around town, but they won't work for minimum wage. They demand a minimum of nine dollar per hour."

"Good one." Adam pretended to applaud. "My turn. They shop in town, but they are easily offended. They once threw a jar of beef jerky into the street because it had a picture of a naked Big Foot on it."

"Nice one." Kat applauded. "They are too large for cars, but they fit fine on larger motorcycles. They ride them all year round."

"Good. But make them Harley Davidson bikes. It may get us an endorsement deal."

"Do they drink Coca Cola?"

"They do if Coke is a sponsor."

"Is that how this works?" Kat leaned back in her chair. Some of the excitement was gone.

"The money comes from sponsors and benefactors. Both require eye balls. So, now we have to have a reason to get the interest of the public. We need clicks. Tell me, how are locals reacting to these strangers?"

"The locals get along fine with them."

"Katherine, I think they got along fine until a young woman went missing. We may need to explore her case for several episodes."

"Maybe she was just curious, and went to their village to learn about their culture."

"Maybe she was carried off and is being held captive. Maybe the locals are very upset. Her poor mother is going crazy. Won't anyone help them?"

"Stop it." Kat put down her wine glass. Adam had been holding her hand. She pulled her hand free of his. "Back in Hitler's bar you were giving me a lecture on innovative technology. Hitler used it all, including television. I assume you were going for Trump next. Look what he did with Twitter. Then comes you. YouTube stories. Here's the problem. The technology changes, but not the storyline. Hate. It's all about hate being sold for a profit. You and Trump and Fox make big bucks. And Charlie ends up dead. I won't be part of it."

Kat left the bar. The elevators were close, and she was up in their room in seconds. Once there, she wasn't sure what to do with herself. She stood by the windows, looked down the street, and waited for Adam to join her. She was sure a shouting match was coming. But, maybe it was overdue.

"You left me standing in two bars on the same night." Adam stood in the doorway a moment, saw Kat, and walked to her. He stopped about two feet away. His hands were at his side, his expression more concerned than angry.

"We're not a match, Adam. Tomorrow let's drive the BMW up to Frankfurt. You get the car back, and I fly home."

"We're a match. Maybe not a perfect match, but it's okay that we disagree here and there. I have some rough edges that need rounding off. Like tonight. Tell me off. But then show me a different direction. Maybe the locals aren't upset that the Foot Tribe took a local woman. Maybe they are upset that the tribe votes Democrat for governor."

"Foot Tribe?" Kat started a smile.

"Yes, they prefer that name. Foot Tribe is politically correct. They are very upset if anyone calls them footers." As Kat laughed, Adam stepped close. One hand went to her arm, the other to her hair. "Help me Katherine. Less hate. But we still need drama. This isn't the Hallmark channel. Something has to happen other than Christmas and marriages."

"What if they are the last remainders of their civilization because all the others refused to vaccinate and believed weird conspiracies."

"You just lost ninety percent of our audience, but maybe we can get some of that in – in a subtle way." His hand slid from her arm and crossed her back, pulling her tight against him. "I like you in heels. Not only do your hips press against mine, but your face aligns perfectly with mine. You have beautiful eyes. I could look at them all night."

"Adam, I don't know if we are a match, and Amberg Video Studios seems a longshot. But I will stay with you a couple more days. I'll go with you to Switzerland if that's what you still want to do."

"At the moment, I was thinking more of our first night together when you took off my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. Your face was close and your body warm. I could feel your breath on my face. I think I'd like that."

"I was thinking about when you carried my upstairs and threw me on the bed. That felt pretty good."

"I aim to please." Adam put a hand under Kat's ass, lifted her, and carried her to their bed. He laid her down gently and leaned over her slowly. She smiled and started taking off his tie.

Chapter 24

The Proposal

The Hotel Kempinski had an incredible breakfast buffet. Kat and Adam came down to breakfast about ten minutes before the staff started putting it all away so they could prepare for lunch. They each got a plate of this and that and a cup of coffee. They found a table by the windows, ate slowly, watched people walk by outside, and smiled at each other.

They had made love the night before. Of course. But they had also laid tight against each other, kissing and fondling, and keeping each other hot. Mostly, though, they whispered jokes back and forth.

"Footers are negotiating with Nike for their own brand."

"The women have a bra style they have patented. It will sweep the sports bra market when released."

"Harley Davidson wants an endorsement from the tribe, but they want their own logo."

"They are coming out with a men's underwear line for the well endowed."

They went back and forth until late. But as they laughed, something else developed. Kat found herself more and more comfortable with Adam, more happy to be on her back, under him, looking up at him. In the simple process of the species, she was accepting him as her man. By morning, the process was complete. She wasn't consciously aware anything had occurred, but she was his. The way she touched him, the way she held him, the way she stood with him, all had been transformed in ways too subtle to be seen, but still very real. Maybe the most obvious change was in her eyes. They seldom left him. He was the chief object of her attention. She looked, she touched, she stood close. Kat was in love.

One result was that everything slowed down. In the shower, Kat washed Adam slowly and carefully, watching his expression change as she moved her hand over him. She wanted to please him. She was studying him. When he touched her, she made her pleasure plain. She wanted him to know what he was doing to her.

Dressing took longer, even though her clothes were simple – panties, bra, silk dress, and shoes. But she gave him the dress to hold while she stepped into it, leaning tight against his chest as he lifted it around her. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck as he zipped her into it. And she stood against him while he stroked her body through the silk, and kissed his neck when he pulled up her skirt to get his hands on her thighs. It might have taken half an hour to get her into that simple silk dress.

So breakfast? They smiled, they talked quietly, she looked at him, they decided it was his day to drive. She was happy to sit beside him and watch him and Switzerland.

Two years in Germany, and she had never gone to Switzerland. Others had. There were no barriers to travel there. She did have responsibilities to lead her platoon, and she had additional responsibilities waiting in her apartment, but she still could have gone to Switzerland. She hadn't. She found she liked the place. Mountain views, small villages, big sweeping curves as they ascended one series of mountains after another. Interesting roads.

And, she felt pride in how she was arriving in Switzerland. Dressed in silk, riding a beautiful car, sitting beside a very successful man. She found herself preening, paying some attention to her makeup, watching how her skirt settled across her thighs, happy to have her feet propped up on four inch heels. A successful woman with a successful man. Driving through Switzerland. She realized she was very, very happy. Periodically she placed a hand on Adam's arm or thigh. She commented on the vistas they passed, told him how much she was enjoying herself, and praised the performance of the car as it rose up one hillside after another. Other cars might slow on the inclines. Not her BMW. More pride. Beautiful car, and beautiful scenery, good man at the wheel. What a great way to spend an afternoon.

It got better. A few miles outside Zurich was the hotel he had picked. Dolder Grand. It looked like a palace. Up on a hill, Zurich and its lake off in the distance, the hotel was huge and had grounds that went on forever. Adam slowed as he followed the lengthy drive, and stopped before the main entrance. The doorman was immediately at her door, and she emerged as if she stayed at five star hotels every day. After all, she had the car. She had the gown. She had the man. She belonged.

Not really. Car, dress, man, or not, she felt like a kid visiting Disneyland. Kat slid out of the car and stood gawking. One man took their luggage, a valet took the car. Kat didn't move. Down the long grassy slope was Zurich and its lake. Above her was a fairy tale. The seven story entrance looked like a castle tower. White, rounded, even a little balcony where the king might come out to address his people. Left and right were four busy floors. There were windows in various styles, balconies on the third and fourth levels, each floor with its own character, but all in white with blue trim. The place was huge, and interesting. She guessed it was two centuries old, and she was grateful for its age. The world had far too many glass rectangles.

She followed Adam into the lobby. He registered for them. She stared. The lobby was a bit more modern than she liked, but it had a staircase at one end she wished to run to. It was a double staircase, rising up on each side of the elevator, but both curves were wide, gentle, elegant. You knew royalty had descended those stairs, stopped partway down, and waved – delicately but with warmth – to friends below. She knew at some point she would take Adam's arm and descend those stairs. She wouldn't wave, but she would definitely smile.

Adam was patient with her. He finished registering, stood by her side, and then put her hand on his arm and followed the bell hop to the elevator and to their room. Their room was on the city side of the hotel. Tall windows in elaborate casements looked out over Zurich. She went straight to the windows as Adam tipped the bellhop. He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and said nothing.

"All the time I spent in Germany, I never visited Switzerland."

"I've been here several times, but never with a beautiful lady." He held her tighter. She put her hands over his.

"We need to talk about what we are doing, and why we are here, but let me say the obvious. Thank you."

"My pleasure."

They stood in the window, tight against each other, viewing the city on the horizon. He could feel her breathe. She could feel his face against her hair. She leaned back into him. Time passed. He waited. Finally she was ready to move again.

"It looked like there were lawns all around the hotel, could we go see them?"

"Of course."

He took her hand, and off they went. There seemed to be endless pathways through groves of trees and manicured lawns. The lawns on one side extended out to a golf course. They strolled past that, then wandered into a more wooded section at the rear of the hotel. It was cool in the shade. Adam's hand was warm. Their arms swung together as they walked.

As they came through the woods at the far side of the hotel they came to a seating area. Kat guessed it was where people came to watch the sun set. There were six or eight benches arrayed under some oaks, low flower gardens interspersed so each bench had a bit of privacy. Kat immediately pulled Adam to one of the benches. It had the best view down a seemingly endless lawn, then groves of trees, rooftops, and the lake. Zurich was below them, maybe two or three miles off. It was white buildings, green trees, blue waters. The sun was on the far side of the water, probably another two or three hours from setting. For the moment, it was almost a spotlight emphasizing the white of the homes and the blue of the water. At sunset, Kat could only imagine how the colors might turn.

She sat tight against Adam, his arm around her shoulders, her hand in his. Neither of them said a word. She was pleased with that. She felt the breeze blowing up the slope. It ruffled her silk skirt. Adam's arm was warm. Periodically he kissed the top of her head.

She squeezed his hand and thought about him. She was losing track of the days, but she knew they had been together no more than a week. They had struggled. They had fought. And they had loved, and planned together. All of that mattered, but as she looked back at their time together, she thought maybe the most significant moment had been the previous night. They had lain together and told jokes. Their love making had been intense, and she knew she would enjoy more of that, but somehow it was their lying together laughing that had been most special – most connecting, even most intimate.

She had bought a wedding dress. Worn it, and loved it. Yes, Clarisse had pushed her into it, but Kat hadn't resisted. She wanted a husband. She wanted a companion. A lover. The desire had been there, maybe hidden under daily tasks and evenings with books. But it had obviously been there. Clarisse had not had to push very hard for Kat to slip into that gown. She wanted a husband. And, after very few days with Adam, she knew the husband she wanted was him.

He had asked her multiple times. She wanted him to ask one more time. Kat studied her left hand. The ring. In truth, it should have been off her hand months earlier. If Jim really wanted to marry her, he should have done it by now, or at least picked a date. He hadn't. He had asked, then hesitated. Again. Kat slid the ring off with no regrets. She was carrying a tiny purse filled with cosmetics and a comb. The ring dropped to the bottom of the purse under a tube of lipstick and some eyeliner.

Adam watched her do it. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her tighter to him. Kat squeezed his hand. Time for words. She would start.

"You've been here before?" Kat turned toward Adam, her chest now against his. She let go of his hand and reached up to his cheek. .

"I've been to Zurich before, but I've never stayed at this hotel. I have always driven past it and wondered about it. I thought you might like it."

"I love it. Thank you for bringing me here." She gave him a quick kiss. "If I were nine or ten I would be going out of my mind. It really does look like a fairytale palace. I would want a Disney princess outfit, and I would run up and down the hallways looking for princes."

"What you are wearing now looks pretty good." He played with the skirt sliding across her thighs.

"I like the dress, I love the car, I'm even getting used to the heels. But mostly, I love the man holding my hand."

"Katherine, I have already talked about marriage several times. May I formally ask?"

"Yes."

"Then Katherine, allow me to make a very long proposal. I love you, and want to be with you, but I want more. I hope you will let me move to Amberg. I hope you will help me take my company in a new direction. I hope you will help me create videos we will both be proud of. I hope you will let me stay with you the rest of my life. And I hope you will marry me."

"I will be proud to be your wife."

Adam slid off the bench and placed one knee on the ground. He pulled a ring box out of his pocket, opened it, gave Kat a chance to look at it, then slid it onto her finger. Kat thought it was the ring she would have picked for herself – a solitaire diamond, large but not gaudy, bright in the late afternoon sun. Kat pulled Adam up from the ground and kissed him.

Nothing happened for a while after that. They sat together holding each other. Kat pushed her face into Adam's neck and kissed him. Adam had both arms around her shoulders holding her tight.

"Should we talk about the wedding?" Adam quietly spoke into Kat's ear.

"Yes, please do."

"Do you want it in Amberg? So your family can attend?"

"There is only my brother, and he is off testing water somewhere."

"Then Fulda? It would be easier for the staff to attend."

"Yes. Fulda."

"In two days? That is fast, but I know you need to get back to your business."

"Fast is better than slow."

"Would city hall be okay? They have a large room I think they use for weddings."

"Adam, marry me. The sooner the better. The city hall is beautiful. I will be happy to marry you there."

"Good."

There was another long silence, then Kat started moving in Adam's arms.

"Adam, the sunset will be beautiful, I am sure. But what I want to do with you right now is best done in our room."

Adam took her hand, and the two of them hurried back into the hotel.

Chapter 25

Patrons

Kat chose not to undress herself. She worked on Adam first. Men were complicated. The dozen buttons on the shirt, the belt, and then the pants, socks, underwear. It took work getting the clothes off him. But there he was, naked, standing opposite her. She dropped her panties, raised her hands to his shoulders, and leaned in to him. He took her zipper down with one hand, while holding her tight against him with the other. She dropped her arms, and he lowered the top of her dress over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She slid to her knees and took him in her mouth. She knew instantly that he had wanted that. When she felt he was just about to climax, she pulled him down on top of her, and they made love on the floor.

When they were done, Kat locked her arms and legs around Adam, and held him to her.

"I take you as my husband."

"I love you as my wife."

Kat held him tight as the room slowly darkened with the setting of the sun. Sometimes she would kiss him. Sometimes he would kiss her, but her arms never left their hold on him.

"I want you to meet some people."

"I want to stay right where I am." Kat tightened her legs around him.

"How long do you intend to hold me?"

"Given our ages, about forty years."

Adam raised his head and slid his hands under Kat's head. He pulled her up to him.

"You will be my wife and my partner. Job requirement. You need to meet my patrons."

"Patrons?"

"Rich friends. They write big checks to my company. Donations that make my life easier. They also make suggestions for my shows. They sometimes give me story ideas. And they have connections that make my work easier."

"And they happen to be in Zurich."

"They like to summer here. I thought you would like to meet them, so I set up dinner here at the hotel."

"And if I had said 'no' to our marriage?"

"I would have introduced you, but the conversation would have been different."

Kat looked up at Adam. She liked the way he was holding her head. She liked that his face was so close. She rose up and kissed him.

"Let's go meet our patrons."

Kat unwrapped herself from around Adam. He rose, pulled her off the floor, and led her into the shower. She pressed herself against him while washing him and while he washed her.

After that, they went their separate ways, him to pull on a tux, her to stand in front of a mirror and work on her hair and face. He looked in on her twice to see how she was progressing, a sure sign that he wished her to hurry. She finished up and went for her formal. She had two. She picked the deep red gown. Crimson, strap less, tight at the hips, tight all over. Sitting and bending to strap her heels on seemed to amuse Adam. She played a bit with the top of her dress. She could play too. He seemed to like it.

Finally they were ready. She stood and put her hand on his arm. Formal. She felt her shoulders automatically pull back as her chin rose. The gown was tight, but beautiful. Her man was strong and good looking. She was ready for a room full of rich people in a fairy tale palace.

The meeting was in a private room on the top floor. A small balcony was available to them, and glass doors were open to admit the early evening breezes. A long table was set up at one end of the room, a portable bar at the other. Four couples were arranged near the bar.

Adam strode directly to the four couples, Kat at his side. Adam did the introductions. Handshakes and smiles from the men, hugs and cheek kisses from the women. Then as if by signal, the men slid towards the bar, the women towards the balcony. The men ranged in ages from about fifty to about seventy. They all wore tuxedos and quickly gathered around Adam, drinks in their hands.

The women were all in their thirties. They all wore satin or silk, all gowns cut in a similar fashion – skirts just above the knee, necklines about mid-chest, sleeveless. But the real similarity was gown quality. Tailoring highlighted their best features, but did it subtly. Satin rounding their breasts with warmth and color. Satin flowing along a perfectly arched back, leading to a rise out and over their ass. The women were on display, but all displays were elegant, subtle, refined. All the women had their hair up, diamond earrings, simple jewelry around long necks.

The breeze coming through the glass doors pushed skirts against legs. At some point each of the women looked over at the men to see if they were being noticed. Often they were, with smiles exchanged.

The conversation consisted of queries directed at Kat. How often did she visit Switzerland? What had brought her to Fulda? Was it true she had once been a soldier? What did she think of Adam's YouTube channel? By listening for accents, Kat decided all the women were American, and she decided they had all been tutored in their diction. She heard no hint of a regional accent. If they were from California or Mississippi, there was no hint of it now. She also decided the women were pretty and were carefully dressed, but these were not simple trophy wives. Comments here and there about financing Adam's channel made Kat wonder if there was more than one MBA standing before her. She felt her guard slowly go up. Her responses became more carefully worded, her explanations more detailed.

And then it was the men's turn. One at a time they approached the women, apologized for intruding, and then pulled Kat to one side "for a quick chat." Conversations were superficially casual, the man maintaining a smile, often with a hand on her upper arm but the intent was the same. Kat was being interviewed. What did she see as the best outcome for Afghanistan? How could more people become entrepreneurs like her? What did she see as the future of social media? How could more high schools encourage vocational education? The men had not taken any speech training. She heard accents from around the U.S., and their grammar was hardly perfect. Mostly what she heard was men who were certain in their views. They might ask questions, but they already knew what answers they wanted to hear.

Eventually the interviews ended and dinner was served. Kat assumed she would be seated next to Adam, but she was directed to a place between two of the older men. Both spent a fair amount of time looking down her dress. One wanted to tell her about Sean Hannity's latest show, and the other wanted to know how she saw the next election going. She backed away from that question three times before she felt forced to respond. By that time it appeared the entire table was waiting for her answer.

"I was a career military officer. By tradition, we don't vote. It was my duty to serve whatever commander in chief the people of America elected."

"And now? You are retired."

"And now, I hope the American people will do better this time."

There was complete silence around the table. Kat waited. She kept her back straight and her head high. If she needed to fight her way out of the room, she thought she could do that. Silence continued until one of the women raised her wine glass.

"We are all here for the same reason." She held her glass higher. "To better presidents." There was a momentary pause and then the rest of the table joined in – "Better presidents."

That seemed to take the edge off the evening. From that moment on, the nature of conversations changed. Kat found herself describing the upcoming Packer season.

Sometime after midnight Adam rose and the dinner/meeting was officially ended. There were handshakes and hugs at the door. Smiles mostly. Then Kat placed her hand on Adam's arm and walked back down to their room.

The instant their door was closed, Kat turned on Adam, her palms on his chest.

"Don't ever do that to me again. I am not here to be graded. I don't care how much money they have or how much they have done for you in the past. My values are mine, and they are not for sale."

"You think they care about your values?" Adam reached up and took Kat's shoulders. "They just wanted to know how you present yourself. And you did just fine. Every one of them told me how much they liked meeting you. Not that it mattered. They are just people who give me money and sometimes make introductions for me. If you liked any of them, we'll have them over for dinner some time. If not, you'll never see them again."

Kat lowered her arms.

"You're sure." She stared into his face.

"Kat, you will like some of my friends, and some you won't. I will like some of your friends, and some I won't. Normal process, right?"

Kat nodded. Adam slid his hands down her back. When he reached her ass, he pulled her tight against him. They stood together, each examining the other's face. Finally Kat raised her hands to Adam's neck and kissed him.

"You won't like my friends either."

"Sure I will. And you will like these guys. You just need to drink more. Works like a charm." He lifted Kat up and carried her to their bed.

Chapter 26

$250,000

Kat woke and slid closer to Adam. She put her head on his chest, and slid her hips tight against him. She gave him a minute to respond, then raised herself over his chest and lay on top of him. Immediately he grabbed her by the shoulders, flipped her onto her back, and lay on top of her with his full weight. He kissed her, held her, and kept his weight on her.

Kat drew an immediate conclusion. He wants to be the one on top. Lesson learned. New man, upcoming marriage, they would have much to learn about preferences. She thought she was also learning about roles. He would dominate. Fine. He was the male. She liked looking up at him. An occasional change in roles might have been nice, but if this was the way it would be, she could accept it.

She waited while he got ready to make love to her. She could feel him stiffen. He slid along her thigh. She spread her legs farther in anticipation. And waited. He held his face over hers, kissed her, played with her hair, and slid along her thigh. She waited. Finally she smiled up at him. "Fuck me, Adam." He played with her hair, smiled, and pressed himself against her. She waited. She wanted him. She could feel his warmth. Finally she said "Please."

And he entered her. Okay. Another lesson learned. He would initiate sex. He would chose when and how. She would wait. He was definitely worth the wait. She was hot for him, and melted back into the mattress as he took her. She would initiate things later to see if she understood the new rules and roles, but she was content with things for the moment.

Their shower also came with subtle changes. She was to wash him. She had done that before, but now it seemed expected. He even gave her the soap and stood waiting. He washed her, but only after she had washed him.

At breakfast he ordered for both of them, and they had their first disagreement as a couple.

"I have never liked eggs benedict. Two over easy with some toast is what I would prefer." The waiter was already gone. She had waited to make her objection.

"Okay. Next time, that is what I will order for you."

"Or I could order for myself."

"I think it is simpler, and more European if the man orders."

Kat chose not to argue the point. Adam had his phone out and was dealing with a series of texts. Kat looked out the window. The restaurant was along the south side of the hotel. Huge windows showed a beautiful summer day. Down below was Zurich and its lake. It was an incredible scene, but Adam never looked at it. His phone held his attention until their runny eggs arrived. Kat ate her toast.

"Will we go into Zurich today?"

"Yes. Later this morning we will get you a bank account. We will use it to finance our Amberg project. And we will have time for some shopping and sightseeing. Zurich is a very special city."

"Wouldn't it be easier to open a bank account in Wisconsin?"

"I think you will like having your own account over here." Kat wasn't sure why that would be true, but decided not to press things. He was preparing for their work in Amberg. How the financing arrived was less important than that.

When they were through with the meal, Kat took his hand. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand, but then he turned slightly from her and went back to scrolling on his phone. Kat drank her coffee and waited. It was a beautiful view down the hillside from the hotel, and she would see more of it when he was ready. She waited. Another lesson about her role?

She daydreamed while she waited. Kat liked spy movies. There was always some challenge in determining who the bad guy really was. In about half of such movies, the spy (or the bad guy) goes to a Swiss bank to access an account. Maybe a secure box filled with fascinating objects. Maybe a special number that lets him move huge sums of money around the world. Swiss banks. Mecca for spies. Their destination for the morning. And soon she would have an account of her own.

They went back up to their room after breakfast. He was busy on his phone. Kat did a bit more work on her hair and makeup. They were going into Zurich. She would look her best. Dressing was easy. She wore the next silk in line, sleeveless, skirt just above her knees, a perfect summer dress. He sat at an old rolltop desk, busy with his phone. Kat checked her makeup for the fourth or fifth time, then sat on the bed. She adjusted the straps on her shoes, not because they needed adjusting but because to do it she needed to pull her skirts higher and lean well forward, her breasts pressing the front of her gown. Adam? He looked at her once and smiled. She thought about how much teasing she was doing for a smile.

Last text or email sent, Adam put away his phone and stood. Kat went to him and played with his tie. More teasing. He was in his thousand dollar pin stripe suit. His tie was perfect, but she adjusted it anyways, just to lean into his chest, her four inch heels putting her face equal to his. She kissed his cheek, then brushed the lipstick from his face.

"Have you thought about our wedding?" He had his arms around her waist, holding her hips tight against his.

"No. Sorry. I just assumed we would go the city hall, do whatever they do there, and then go to a restaurant."

"Don't worry. I have Clarisse working on it."

"Thank you." Kat was a bit surprised. She had thought plenty about him, and she had thought about them in Amberg, but she hadn't thought at all about the actual ceremony. Odd. Adam took her hand and led her to the elevator.

"Could we stop on the second floor?" As Adam reached to press the button for the lobby, Kat almost grabbed his hand.

"Sure. Why?"

"The staircase. It is almost magical. I want to walk down, holding your arm." As Kat made the request, she knew she sounded silly, childish even, but she had to ask.

Adam was good about it. They got off the elevator a floor early, and stood together at the top of the stairs. He waited until Kat was ready, then offered his arm, and descended slowly, Kat resting a hand on his arm and gazing across the lobby as she slowly stepped down. He even stopped halfway so she would have more time to look around her.

"Thank you for that." She stood and kissed him at the bottom of the staircase. "I know it's silly, but, well..."

"Let's do it again tonight when you are wearing your formal."

"Thank you. I would love that."

"I'll be proud to stand at your side."

Adam gave the car check to a doorman. Kat wandered a bit while they waited for the car. The air was warm, but the breeze coming up the hill felt good. It moved the skirt against her legs, and she knew Adam would be watching. She turned and saw him smiling at her. She did a quick turn on her heels and her skirt rose again. He motioned as if to applaud.

Adam drove. He had been to the bank before and knew where to park. So it was logical that he drove, but still, he slipped automatically into the driver's seat when the car came up to the entrance. It was her car. He could have asked. Kat waited for the doorman to open her door, and she slid into the wife seat. Her car, but her role.

The drive into town took less than fifteen minutes. Kat watched a sea of white, wood frame houses slide past. Four, five, six floors, gable roofs. Adam found Lindenhof Strasse. Kat could see a huge park in the distance. He parked a block from the park, and they walked around a corner to the Bank of Zurich.

Kat expected a dark wall and small door - admittance via speaker, video camera, and electric lock. Spies never just walked into a Swiss bank. They were carefully screened. She was disappointed. This Swiss bank had a wall of glass with a clear view into the bank lobby, and two glass doors with people freely entering and leaving. She followed Adam inside.

Next disappointment. In the movies, private accounts were always handled upstairs. Certainly the second floor, but often the top floor, sitting at dark oak paneled desks, filling out forms while secretaries brought coffee or brandy. But Adam led the way across the lobby to a row of desks – on the ground level. Good quality oak desks, but on the ground floor and fairly close together. James Bond never sat at one of those. Adam paused, waited for one of the women to look up and nod, and then led Kat to her desk.

The conversation started in German, but moved to English when he hesitated on a phrase. He was an account holder, and he wanted to open an account for his fiancé. The clerk – a woman in her mid-twenties – smiled and congratulated them both. She also reached out and shook Kat's hand.

Then it was mostly the clerk and her computer. She took Kat's passport from Adam, and filled in some on-line forms. She asked how much would be deposited into the account. Adam said "two hundred fifty thousand U.S." transferred from his account. Kat was pretty sure her own pupils dilated when she heard the amount, but the clerk typed the amount into the computer as if such deposits happened before lunch, the real deposits came later in the day. She needed Adam's passport, and he had to type a password into a pad she passed him.

Five minutes later, the money was moved between accounts, and the clerk had printed out forms that both Kat and Adam signed. Then a small pad was put in front of Kat. She was to enter her own password for remote transfers. The clerk gave her the general rules – length, mix of letters and numbers – and looked as Kat typed the password. The clerk nodded – the password rules had been met – and the session was over. Kat had a bank account. And two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Adam folded all the paperwork and slid it into his breast pocket.

Next? Adam took Kat's hand, and they walked down to the Lindenhof Park. Fairly large, overlooking the lake, flower gardens and gravel paths, a large area where men played chess. Beautiful place actually, but Kat wasn't seeing much of it. When they got to a place where she could see the lake through the trees, Kat pulled Adam down on a park bench.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"

"Yes. I will deposit more when we are ready to start purchasing property and equipment for the Amberg studio. In the meantime, I wanted you to have some cash for expenses. Enjoy yourself. There are shops all over Europe with beautiful things for you to wear." He played with her skirt as he said that.

"You just painted a huge bullseye on my chest. Say what you want about Swiss privacy laws, I am certain the NSA will know about that deposit before lunch. They will wonder where I got the money and what I did to earn it."

"The money was gathered from many sources, all legal. Yes, the money will be noticed, but being rich is still legal."

"I am not rich. I just have an account. You put money in, and you will take it out when you choose."

"I don't have the password. You do. It's your money. Now you can pay for all those dresses you bought, and pay off your mortgage too if you wish."

Kat looked off toward the water. Adam put an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her toward him, but she resisted.

"This doesn't feel right. I came here to find Charlie's killer, and instead I am getting married and getting rich."

"We will find Colonel Brandt's killer. I have Clarisse and five people working on it. Two are going through the comments section of the website looking for threatening messages. Two are going through emails. One man is checking IP addresses of any suspect messages the other four find. Nothing so far, but they will keep at it."

"When we get back to Fulda, I want to see what they are finding."

"Of course. Can it wait until after our honeymoon?"

"Yes, but not too long." As she said that, she had to ask herself the question she had been avoiding. What if the killer was never found? It happened. Not every case was solved. It might take years, even if successful. And maybe Clarisse was right – maybe they had already found the guy. Some Russian out to get Charlie. She looked down at the ring Adam had put on her hand. Marriage first.

Kat settled herself against Adam. She let him puller her tighter. She had a fiancé, a Swiss bank account, and a quarter million dollars. And a huge BMW. Not what she had come to Germany for. But, he had people checking, and certainly the FBI and NSA were checking. Charlie's killer was being tracked. He would be found. In the meantime... In the meantime, she loved this man. Maybe not the reason she had come to Germany, but still, she had found a man she loved. Not a small thing. Not a thing to be ignored or postponed.

It finally occurred to Kat to kiss Adam and thank him. She liked having his arm around her. She liked being in Switzerland. She liked wearing silk, and she liked having his hand on it. She kissed him again.

Chapter 27

Plans

They wandered the park for a while, even watched a chess game from a distance. Then Adam led Kat through an area of retail shops. He stopped at a shoe store and suggested Kat find something easier to walk in, but still appropriate for their hotel. Kat found herself another pair of white sandals. These had two inch heels. Stilettoes, but low enough to be comfortable. The price seemed astronomical, but Adam took out his card. Part of the package. Kat walked out with her old heels in a bag, and a smile on her face. Exploring Zurich was now much easier. She kissed Adam in thanks, noticing that she now had to reach up on her toes to do so.

The streets of Zurich were fascinating. Buildings were crowded together. All ancient, all interesting, commercial and residential areas intermingling. They walked nearly an hour before Adam pulled her into a sidewalk café. Coffee and a sandwich, and a chance to watch people.

"We will spend part of each summer here in Zurich. The first summer we will rent. If we like the place, we will buy it." Adam and Kat were sitting side by side, both watching the street, but he looked at her as he explained his plan.

"I love it here too, but I need to run my workshops all summer. Those are some of my most popular weekends." Kat was hoping her face was communicating the importance of her concern. Adam seemed more curious than concerned.

"You do take vacation, don't you?"

"I close for two weeks just before Christmas. People are too busy to go to a workshop. I also close the first two weeks in April. Amberg is a sea of mud and melting snow. No one would pay to visit then."

"Take an additional five or six week's vacation in July and August."

"I have bills to pay, and a business to run."

"Continue to run the business if it interests you. But you no longer have bills to pay. Use the money I just gave you. I will give you more." He had a very pleasant smile, but he seemed unaware he had just turned her business into a hobby. Or maybe he was aware. Part of the package.

"I want to work with you on the videos. But I also want to keep running my business. I enjoy what I do."

"Good. Keep doing it. But give yourself some free time. Our friends normally vacation twice, once during the summer, and then again in January after the holidays."

"Our friends?"

"You met some of them last night. You will meet another friend tonight."

"Patrons."

"Patrons who have become friends."

Kat finished her sandwich and looked down the street. The lake was in the distance, with mountains beyond. The view was beautiful. No question. Would she like to spend summers in Zurich? With his friends? Part of the package. Part of a marriage. She took his wealth, she took his companionship, she took his friends and his schedule. She left... Well, she left many things. Wives did that. When they took a husband. As she was doing. As she took a husband. She took Adam's hand. He smiled at her. To him, the matter was settled. The matter was simple.

Adam paid the bill and led Kat through many more streets. Mostly they stayed near the water, looking at homes. He asked Kat which building styles were most attractive to her. She pointed out a few she liked, and they talked about what they might want to see inside, if they lived there. They talked bathrooms, and kitchens, and room for entertaining. Views from the windows mattered, as did easy access to groceries.

Adam held Kat's hand as they talked, as they looked up at buildings and planned their lives inside. Kat stood close, leaning into his side or against his chest. She looked up into his face and talked about their future. And at each building, each street corner, each view up to a balcony or set of windows, their future seemed more real. She began to accept that it would happen. She would walk these streets. She would carry groceries up to this apartment. She would stand on this balcony and wave to Adam as he came home. She stood on her toes and kissed his mouth or his cheek and felt his warm arms around her.

Second thoughts? Plenty. But his arms were warm. She saw a woman carrying groceries and knew that could be her. She felt the shade of the trees, saw the lake and the mountains, felt the wind on her face, and saw the look in his eyes. She could do this. She could be his wife.

They wandered some more, talked about more homes, until their wandering finally brought them back to their car. Kat automatically went to the wife seat. Adam drove. They were greeted at the hotel, men opening doors and taking their car. Adam held Kat's hand and they were quickly back in their room. Kat stood by the bed waiting. Adam put an arm under her ass, lifted her, and put her on her back in the middle of the bed. She looked up at him as she undid the buttons on his shirt.

"I'm your woman, Adam. I'll live with you here or anywhere else. I will share your life."

"I'll give you a good life, Katherine. A life you are just beginning to see." He held his head just above hers and kissed her several times. "Rest for a while, then change. Look your best. We will leave at seven. You will like Wes. I am certain he will like you." He kissed her one more time, played a bit with her hair, and then slid off her. He sat at his desk working his phone. Kat drifted off to sleep as his heat slowly evaporated off her chest.

Chapter 28

An Evening with Wes

Kat woke up when he sat on the edge of the bed, but she kept her eyes closed as he slid a hand up under her skirt, his other hand sliding into her hair. She waited until he kissed her, then crossed her legs to keep his hand right where it was.

"You need to get ready, Katherine." His face hung just above hers. She could see he had already changed into his tux.

"Formal tonight again? I thought this man was your friend."

"He's older. He likes to dress in the evening. When you see his place, you will feel much better about dressing up."

"One more kiss first."

Adam kissed her, then sat up. "We shouldn't be late, Katherine." He pulled his hand free of her legs, and stood. Kat rolled off the bed, shed her dress, and headed for the bathroom. She left the door open as she pulled a comb through her hair and worked on her makeup. She couldn't remember the last time she had worn so much makeup so often.

"Tell me about this man." Kat shouted out of the bathroom. Adam was pacing. Obviously this was not a casual meeting with a "friend."

"Wes is a partner in a New York bank. He has homes where it is important to have homes, so he has one here. He is late eighties, and his health is in decline."

"What is he to you?"

"He gives me money, but he is also an advisor. He knows everyone and everything. He was the one who suggested I use the cave metaphor and call myself Socrates. A bit of mystery, he said. And a connection to the classics."

"So, rich, connected, creative."

"Yes. And a decent guy. You will like him."

Kat finished with her face. Time for the gown. She hated strapless dresses. They were uncomfortable to wear, and required constant attention during any kind of movement. She and her high school friends had all worn them to prom, and all of them spent the evening reaching under their arm pits to pull the dress up yet again. But men loved them, and Clarisse had picked this one for this occasion. Kat put on the longline bra required for the dress, then pulled the dress up over her hips. A very tight fit. Adam was right there to zip up the dress while Kat held the front of it over her breasts. This was practically foreplay for him.

A virtue to the gown? Fabric. It was an ivory colored synthetic similar to satin, but it had embroidered flowers in matching ivory down the front, starting just under the bust and working down to the hem of the skirt in a narrow band. It really was nice work. Beautiful, and subtle. Kat had not objected to the tight cut or the high cost when Clarisse had shown it to her. She ran her fingers over the embroidered pattern down her front.

"Where did you put my shoes?" Kat was looking around for the bag her shoes had gone into when she had bought the lower, more comfortable sandals.

"You won't need them tonight. Wear the shoes you bought this morning."

It seemed odd. All this work to put on a tight fitting formal, yet wearing lower heels. But she wouldn't complain about a little bit more comfort. She strapped on the shoes, did another quick check in the mirrors, and then took Adam's arm. Off to see Wes.

Adam had a surprise for her as they left the hotel. He stopped the elevator one floor above the lobby. Kat smiled and thanked him. She took his arm as they approached the stairs. Waiting at the bottom was Clarisse with a camera. She probably took twenty pictures. Top of the stairs, middle, standing side by side, turned toward each other, embracing, Kat looking up at Adam. Clarisse even kneeled on the bottom stair to get some of the shots. Kat held Adam tightly, proud, and happy. She might not be royalty, but for that one moment, she felt pretty close. Clarisse asked Kat to wave to her adoring fans, none of whom actually existed, but Kat did wave to several people in the lobby, all of whom took the effort in stride. Obviously Kat was not the first person to pose on the staircase.

"Enjoy your visit with Wes. I will see you at breakfast." Clarisse gave Kat a hug, then followed her out to the entrance, taking more pictures of Kat getting into her new car, a doorman holding the door to her side of the car – the wife seat. Kat waved again, and Adam drove down the long drive.

"A couple suggestions for tonight." Adam paused. "He will ask you to call him 'Wes' rather than 'Mister Gaines'. Don't. Maybe after we are married, and you have seen him several times. But at the first meeting, he is Mister Gaines."

"Fair enough." They were rapidly descending the hill into Zurich, but rather than drive into town, they took a road along the lake. "Why is Clarisse here?"

"She will be taking you back to Fulda. She will get you ready for our marriage and take care of last minute things. I will meet you at the city hall later in the afternoon. I have a few things to do here before I go back."

"Oh." Kat wasn't sure what to think about traveling with Clarisse. She guessed they would talk about the reception.

In the meantime, she watched houses roll past. Well, houses at first, then chateaus. Lots of stonework, immaculate lawns with meticulously trimmed shrubbery, every home at least three stories, all of them looking a century old. Family wealth. Generations of family wealth. Mile after mile of immense family wealth.

And then they arrived at Wes' chateau. In many ways identical to the others in style and structure. But as Adam pulled into the long, curving drive she could see one distinct difference. Wes' home was on a point in the lake. He probably had hundreds of yards of frontage. Kat knew lake frontage. Her realtor had explained much of the cost of her lodge as the cost of frontage on the pathetic lake she saw every morning. What did lake frontage cost in Zurich? She couldn't image.

Adam parked the car to one side of the chateau. The parking area was set to show off both the house and the lake frontage. Nothing very subtle about it. You parked your car and were immediately impressed. There were stone stairs up to the house, low trees and flower beds on each side. Wes stood waiting at the top of the stairs.

Adam was not comfortable. He checked his tie in the rearview mirror, and caught Kat's arm when she reached to open her door. He would do that for her. He exited the car, waved to Wes, then came around to Kat's side to open her door. While he stood holding it open, she saw him check the crease in his pants. Once she had her feet planted on the drive, he held out his hand and assisted her up and out of the car. She placed a hand on his arm, and they began the stairs.

Kat had a series of problems. The skirt was tight around her thighs and she had to pull the skirt up a bit with one hand. And the stairs seemed to be endless. But the real problem was where to look. She of course looked up the many stairs to Wes, and smiled at him. But the lake was off to her right, the sun just above a range of mountains to the west, a glare coming off the water that pressed her to shield her eyes, yet she didn't want to shield her eyes, she wanted to look at the shoreline, the water, the city across the water and the mountains beyond. The view was unbelievable. But rude. She was a guest. It was her job to climb the stairs with as much grace as she could muster, all the time smiling at Wes. Not easy.

At the top of the stairs Wes shook Adam's hand and kissed Kat's.

"Your timing is perfect. Fifteen minutes from now the sun will be largely behind that mountain range, and the glare will be gone. At the same time, the homes across the water will begin turning on their lights. You will love it." Wes had turned Kat a bit away from Adam as he pointed out across the water. "Come inside. We will have a drink and watch the best show on earth."

A servant held the door for them as they entered the home. The first room was largely glass. It had a tile floor, Turkish rugs, dark oak veneers on the walls opposite the windows. Kat had no interest in seeing the rest of the house. She loved the place where she stood. She found her gaze darting out to the lakeshore, but she also found herself looking with interest at "Wes."

Adam did the introductions, and there were the usual "So glad to meet..." etc. And the servant gave each of them a glass of white wine. But Kat now found herself staring at Wes. Adam had been right about his age. Certainly somewhere in the eighties. And his movements had been somewhat stiff as they had entered the house. But he stood straight and looked at her directly. His tux was obviously tailored to advantage, but she thought maybe shoulders still remained beneath the padding, and the stomach was relatively flat beneath the cummerbund. But mostly she was intrigued by his face – his eyes. His hair was white and thin, worn longish in the European manner, matching a white goatee. His eyes were blue and had no doubt faded with the years, but they had an intensity that held her attention. She found herself looking directly back at him. He was a man she thought would be interesting to talk with.

"Four more minutes, Katherine, and we shall turn, look out the windows, and be amazed."

"I look forward to it."

"I look forward to learning more about you."

"Katherine has already been helping me with story ideas." Adam was standing next to Kat, but somehow he seemed nearly invisible. Wes was looking directly at Kat and she at him. In some ways they were the only two people in the room.

"I am sure she will help you in many ways." Wes was talking to Adam, but looking at Kat. "I was a peacetime soldier. Mid-fifties. Safely between Korea and Vietnam. Did my three years. Never made it past lieutenant."

"You served. I respect that." They continued studying each other. Kat decided she didn't like the goatee.

"I think we can turn now." Wes pointed toward the lake. Just a sliver of sun rose above the distant mountains. The glare was already gone from the water. It had become a much deeper blue. Across the lake a few lights were already coming on. A row of street lights lit in sequence.

"I find it a bit of a feast." Wes spoke in quiet tones. "A bit overwhelming. I am attracted to the water and its changing colors, but the distant mountains become this fascinating silhouette, and then there are all the homes opposite, too small to see clearly, but large enough to feel the life move in them as the lights come on."

"Well said. Wes is a bit of a poet." Adam's words were nearly a whisper, but too loud and too simple for the moment. Both Kat and Wes ignored him.

"This view - a reward for a lifetime of work," Kat finally added.

"A reward granted to too few." Wes replied.

They stood in silence as the light changed. Time passed. Kat noticed that Wes was moving a bit from foot to foot. It occurred to her that standing so long might be a problem for him.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Kat asked. "These shoes are a little tight on my big feet."

"Of course." Wes pointed to a grouping of chairs. Rattan. Cushions that looked sunken and misshaped from years of use. Kat recalled her rare visits to the homes of the truly wealthy. Old and comfortable. No need to impress with the newest and brightest. No need to impress. Adam pulled her toward a loveseat. Wes sat close in a chair featuring a blanket across the back, no doubt there for his shoulders if it got cool later. The servant circled with the wine bottle and refilled both Adam and Wes.

"Katherine, everything about you fascinates me, but I have to ask about one thing you may not wish to discuss. Your apartment in Fulda. A nuclear weapon?"

Kat paused, and then nodded. "I am grateful Adam – or Socrates - has chosen not to include that. Why make the people of Fulda aware of that after all these years. What good would it do?"

"It might show your incredible courage."

"Actually I felt proud to be entrusted with it."

"And the risks? Surely you were at risk of attack by those who might want such a warhead."

"A security team occupied the apartment below mine. And my apartment was reinforced against most weapons. And, I had weapons available to me."

"Still..." Wes left it there. His blue eyes never left Kat's face.

"It was in my apartment for just over a year. Not a long time. And the German border had moved many miles east after reunification. The nineties were a time of peace. I lost little sleep."

"My compliments." Wes raised his glass, as did Adam. Kat nodded her acknowledgement.

There were more questions. Eventually the three of them moved to Wes' dining room. It gave Kat glimpses of the home – stone pillars, leaded glass, tile floors, hardwood trim. The dining room could probably seat two dozen. They occupied the end of the table, Wes at the head, and Kat and Adam opposite each other.

More questions. Kat understood this was a job interview. Wrong answers might result in Adam losing an important supporter. But somehow this interview seemed less irritating than the one she had endured the night before. She liked Wes. And, yes, she called him Wes, even though she had been schooled not to. She was comfortable with him. She thought of all Adam's patrons, this might be one who could be an actual friend. So she happily answered questions through dinner, through brandy, and through another return to the glass room overlooking the lake.

She knew the interview was ending as they sat in that room. She also suspected there would be a final flurry of questions that would determine the outcome. It came in an odd way.

"Katherine, how many of Adam's web posts have you seen."

"Two. In both Sergeant Conlon was identifying locations where our mines had been."

"If you were to change those web posts, how might you do that?"

"I would change the tone. The mines were not planted with evil intent. Yes, some civilian casualties were likely, but the intent was to block an invasion that would have caused far more deaths."

"Katherine, I agree with you. We have far too many sources of hate and anger. Endless conspiracies. For Godsakes people think Bill Gates is poisoning them. Enough. It's time for Adam to change direction. Socrates needs to show the conspiracies behind the conspiracies. At the end of the day we need rational thinking. And, we also need a functioning government. Some trust. Misdeeds called out, but basic functions performed and respected. Help Adam do that."

"I will."

And that ended the evening. There were final handshakes and the usual thank yous. Wes stood at the top of his stairs and waved as Adam drove away.

"So, did I pass?" Adam had been silent for several minutes as they drove the lake road back toward their hotel. Kat had reviewed her comments over the evening, and thought she had done fairly well.

"You were great, Katherine. You were great." Nice words, but something in his inflection made Kat wonder. Maybe fatigue. It had been a long night, and while she had been doing all the talking, he was the one with the most to risk. Wes was obviously an important supporter. Adam had much to lose if Wes became unhappy with him – or her.

"Thank you for introducing me. It was an incredible evening."

The car filled with small talk after that. The view, the chateau, the food, the wine, Wes' health. Back at the hotel a valet took the car and Kat took Adam's arm. Once in the room Adam had Kat's dress off fast enough. She looked up at him and held him tight as he made love to her. She continued to look up into his eyes as he finished with a kiss. There was passion in his kiss, but his eyes seemed to be everywhere. Kat wondered what his eyes were really seeing. Maybe her. Maybe not.

Chapter 29

Wedding Day

The sun was barely up when Clarisse knocked on their door. Adam was in the shower, so Kat answered.

"Good morning, beautiful bride." Clarisse kissed Kat, wrapped her arms around Kat's neck, and then leaped up to clamp her legs around Kat's waist. Kat closed the door, and then staggered back to her bed.

"I assume this is where you would like to be."

"Now and forever." Clarisse slipped out of her dress while Kat took off her shoes. They had barely gotten under the duvet when Clarisse climbed on top of Kat, her fingers snaking down into Kat's hair, holding her head while she pressed against Kat's thighs.

"You understand I am marrying Adam in a few hours."

"Yes, but I want you to know what you will be missing." Clarisse pressed herself tighter against Kat, kissing her repeatedly. Kat's hands seemed to move on their own, first to Clarisse's back, then down to her ass.

"When are we going up to Fulda?"

"First tell me why you aren't in the shower with your husband to be."

"He said he had an early appointment. Needs to move fast. Lots to do before he drives up to Fulda."

"You sure he isn't already losing interest?"

"Stop it." Kat looked up at Clarisse, waiting for another kiss.

They could hear Adam get out of the shower. He did seem to be moving fast. He was practically running as he crossed the room to get his clothes. Kat watched him dress. He picked his thousand dollar gray pinstripe to wear. Whatever the meeting, he was dressed to impress. Would he get married in that, or change later? Both women watched him take real care to get his tie perfect. He glanced over at them but focused mainly on the large mirror on the wall. Two minutes later, his coat was on, his hair was combed, and he was ready to go.

"Adam, make sure you leave Katherine's passport and the check stub for the valet. We'll be taking the Beemer."

Adam put both on the dresser and came over to give Kat a quick kiss. Rather than sit on the bed, he leaned over to kiss her. Clarisse leaned to one side to make room for him. She also put on hand on the back of his head.

"My turn." Adam kissed her too, holding the kiss longer than Kat had expected. Then he was off and Clarisse rolled back onto Kat.

"You need to share him with me from time to time."

"No I don't." Kat put her hands on Clarisse' hips, reading to push her off. Clarisse instantly spread her legs and tightened her grip on Kat's hair.

"I like holding you like this. Don't fight it. You know you love me."

"Just tell me when we are leaving. I need to get ready."

"I'll help with that." Clarisse pulled Kat's night gown down over her shoulders. She was looking down and smiling at Kat as she did it.

"I need to shower." Kat looked up at Clarisse but made no move to get out of bed.

"Tell me you love me and wish you were marrying me instead of him."

"I love you, but I want to marry him."

"Maybe we'll share you." Clarisse gave Kat a very long kiss, then slid out of bed.

As Kat got up, Clarisse finished taking her night gown off her. She followed her into the bathroom and stood while Kat showered. The shower door was glass. Kat washed, and smiled, as Clarisse stood just outside the glass, looking in and pretending to lick the glass.

Clarisse was waiting with a large bath towel as Kat finished.

"Wrap that around both of us and hold it tight behind me as I do your makeup."

The two of them stood by the sink. Clarisse had grouped all of Kat's cosmetics. She kept her left hand in Kat's hair and used it to move her head as she worked on Kat's face. Occasionally she told Kat to wrap the towel tighter around the two of them, further pressing their bodies together, but mostly she focused on Kat's face, working from her eyebrows down, applying cosmetics carefully, but quickly. She kissed Kat several more times, told her she was beautiful, and continued working. Kat pulled the towel tighter around them.

Done with her makeup, Clarisse started on Kat's hair. There were a few tangles, but Clarisse got the hair to go where she wanted. She framed Kat's face, and pulled much of her hair forward, across her forehead and then forward of her shoulders. She left it that way, took a good look, and decided she was done.

"He will take one look at you and know he is the luckiest man in the world."

"Thank you." Kat held the towel around them and kissed Clarisse again before dropping the towel and moving toward the dresses in her closet.

Both women left wearing silk. Summer dresses. Sleeveless, flared skits, bright colors. Kat strapped on the sandals she had bought the day before. Clarisse noticed.

"What happened to the shoes we bought you in Fulda?"

"They're over there." Kat pointed to a paper bag sitting next to her overnight bag. "Adam thought these would be more comfortable."

"Adam thought these would make you two inches shorter. You're with me today. Wear the ones we chose." Kat hesitated, then changed into the pair with four inch heels. They weren't as comfortable as the lower heeled shoes. She wondered if she was changing just to show a bit of rebellion. She knew she stood exactly eye level with Adam in these taller heels.

They loaded up their bags, skipped breakfast and had the car brought around. Kat wanted to drive. So did Clarisse.

"Do you have a driver's license?"

"Sure."

"Oh? Let's see it."

"It's in my wallet."

"Which is in Fulda. You can pick it up tonight. Until then, I drive." A door man helped them load their bags into the trunk. Then he opened Kat's door. She took the wife seat.

Kat saw Zurich gradually disappear. It was hills and farms and wide sweeping curves on the highway. The drive to Fulda took just over five hours. Kat was sure Clarisse spent every minute of that time lecturing Kat on some aspect of her wedding. She seemed to know her stuff. She even knew the rules for getting married in Germany. Apparently most of her fellow teachers arrived single and left Germany on the arm of a soldier.

Kat started paying more attention. She liked the idea of marrying in Germany. And she knew exactly where they should honeymoon – the Dolder Grand Hotel. She would have to watch her calendar carefully. At some point she needed to get back to Amberg. She didn't like cancelling another weekend workshop, and she was excited about having Adam there to help. There were plenty of times when she could use a second pair of hands. And his hands... She found herself smiling as they cruised the last few miles to Fulda.

Then Clarisse started throwing curve balls.

"You are going to like LA. I know people bitch about the traffic and the dumb people, but the studio is in the Valley right by some shops you will love. And he has a grand home up on a hillside."

"We are going to build a studio in Amberg."

"Sure you are. It will be a great way to hire all the videographers and animators in Amberg."

"We could have that work done remotely, couldn't we?"

"Sure. All the talent you need is two thousand miles away, but that's okay. Locally you could... Well, you could... Hmm. Just what is it you will do in the Amberg studio?"

Kat stared at Clarisse. Not only did she not have a good answer, she was annoyed with herself that she had not already considered the question. Workers no longer went to the jobs. Companies went to the workers. Entertainment workers were in LA.

"It will be fine." Clarisse reached over and patted Kat on the leg. "You can spend some time in Amberg considering story ideas, then fly to LA or to various locations, and make the videos. You get the best of both worlds – Amberg and civilization."

"We'll work something out." A pretty weak comeback, but it was the best Kat could do.

Kat still felt somewhat flustered when Clarisse parked the car just down the street from the bridal shop. First stop, one of the adjacent floral shops. Clarisse found a bouquet that seemed right. Kat held it at her waist and looked in a mirror. Yes, it would do. The shop lady wrapped some white silk around the stems of the flowers, and it became a bridal bouquet.

Next stop – the bridal shop. The clerk welcomed them back like long lost royalty. She led the women back to the fitting room. Kat's dress was hanging over one of the mirrors. Both Kat and Clarisse checked the seam that had been resewn. The stiches seemed even and the seam looked strong. Kat even gave it a brief yank. No movement. Fine. Off came her silk, up came her gown.

And she liked it. She played with the neckline a bit. The satin loops around her upper arms seemed a bit tight, but she moved her arms and got more comfortable with the way the loops moved with her. The bodice was tight, but she walked around the fitting room until she felt comfortable. The skirt flowed well over the three petticoats. They checked the hems several times to ensure the gown covered them completely.

She checked herself in every mirror. She looked pretty good. She sat on a chair, walked in a circle, reach up as she would to wrap her arms around his neck. And she looked good. She moved and watched her skirt flow behind her. No question. It was a beautiful gown fitted perfectly. He was going to be a very happy man.

The clerk brought in the veil, and she and Clarisse spent some time getting the support piece in Kat's hair, and then bringing the veil itself down around her shoulders. The material extended about six inches down her arms. She had seen women with longer veils. But it worked well with her neckline. Both the clerk and Clarisse told her the veil was perfect.

Clarisse gave the clerk her phone and asked her to take pictures. Pictures of Kat with veil down, veil up, turning, looking back, looking forward, a few with Clarisse at her side, lifting the veil as if she were the groom, taking Kat's arm as if she would walk her down the aisle. Dozens of pictures, all of a very happy Kat. She imagined herself with Adam, and she felt confident, poised, even pretty. This would be a beautiful wedding, and a successful marriage.

Clarisse wanted some time with Kat before they left the shop. She pushed herself against Kat and lifted her veil. Then she just stood there, looking up at her. Kat wasn't sure what to do. Finally she just wrapped her arms around Clarisse' waist.

"Thank you for this. You are the one who got me into this dress. We bought it for one groom. I think it will be even better for the other."

"You look just as good as I imagined you would." She pulled the veil back over her own head, so the two of them were enclosed in silk gauze. "You and me, Katherine."

"You and me and Adam."

"He can fight me for you."

"You can fight at the reception if you wish. But I will be leaving with him."

"Well, let's get this started. Ready?" Clarisse asked. "Let's go file the application. I'll help with the paperwork. We will have the application in hand, and you standing in the marriage hall when he arrives at three." Clarisse resettled the veil around Kat's face and shoulders, and put the bouquet in her hands. She took Kat's silk dress out to the car, then came back, played a bit more with Kat's veil, and led the way out.

Kat said a final "Thank you" to the clerk, and followed Clarisse.

The quickest way to City Hall was up through the pedestrian mall. City hall was at the far end. Maybe four blocks. Clarisse stayed by her side, the two of them walking carefully. What Kat couldn't do was trip on a cobblestone or miss a curb she could barely see through her veil. She had seen other brides walk from city hall to a restaurant for a reception. She told herself she was just one more bride and walked with as much grace as she could muster.

The municipal hall in Fulda reached out towards the pedestrian mall with two wings that looked like arms stretched out towards the town. Two stories tall, it was well over a century old, and had the look of a baroque theater, with its tiled roof and rows of windows framed in stone. Kat had attended a meeting once in its main hall, and remembered the walls covered with murals and the ceiling high and lit by chandeliers. It was a beautiful building.

But she had never done business there, so she followed Clarisse through one of the doors and down a long hallway. Clarisse seemed to know where she was going. It took her just a few minutes to find the office she wanted. Kat stood behind her as Clarisse stated her business in German. Kat recognized about every fifth word. A lady at the counter directed them to an inner office behind her. There sat a man deeply engrossed in something being displayed on his computer. Clarisse repeated her request. He nodded and got a form from a filing cabinet. He asked for identification, and Clarisse gave him both their passports. He also asked for a local address, and Clarisse gave him her German residency card. All the information went onto the form, and then into the computer on his desk. He checked twice to ensure he had all the information entered correctly, then he pushed the form across his desk.

"You sign here." Apparently he thought his English was better than Clarisse' German. He offered Kat a pen and pointed to the line where she needed to sign. Kat signed, and returned the pen to the official. He sat waiting for Clarisse.

"This will take a few more minutes." Clarisse turned to Kat. "Can you find your way upstairs? I'll handle the rest of the paperwork, and you can be up there in case Adam arrives early." The clerk was deeply involved with his computer again. Kat was anxious to see the wedding hall, and already tired of this little office, so she agreed, and left.

It only took her a few minutes to find the stairs to the second floor. She walked towards the main part of the building, watching all around her in case Adam was already in the building. She raised her veil, looked, then lowered her veil again. She was no expert in wedding etiquette, but she knew the man raised the veil after the vows. She found the waiting area outside the main hall. Another couple was already standing there. So, she knew she was in the right place.

"He's running late." Clarisse came up to Kat, her arms loaded, her handbag and thick manila envelope in one hand, her phone in the other. "The meeting ran long, and he says traffic is a mess." She went back to looking at her phone. "Let's do this. Stand by the sign over there, and I will take a picture. It may get him moving faster."

Kat stood while Clarisse took pictures. Then Clarisse gave the phone to the waiting couple and they took some pictures of both Kat and Clarisse, including one with Kat's veil raised and Clarisse standing close and smiling up at her. Clarisse took her phone back and then walked toward some windows for better reception.

"He says we should wait for him at the restaurant. I suspect there are already people there for the reception. He says it will be about four thirty when he arrives. It will be tight to get the ceremony done before they close at five, but the restaurant is just about a five minute walk."

Clarisse turned and started walking. Kat followed. Waiting in City Hall made some sense, but it was just three now. Spending over an hour in the waiting area wasn't attractive.

So, back to the pedestrian mall. Somehow it felt hotter. July was not the best time for layers of cotton and satin. And the veil limited the amount of air flowing around her face. Kat followed Clarisse across the street and down into the mall area. She hoped the restaurant was close.

It was a full three blocks. Kat felt like raising her veil and fanning herself once she got inside the restaurant. There were a dozen tables in the place, most empty. The reception table was easy to find. It was in the corner, half a dozen balloons streaming up from a huge bouquet of flowers in the center of the table. Clarisse stood with four other women, all dressed for a party. They seemed to be about Clarisse's age – mid-thirties – but they were tall and wide. They were all wearing bright summer dresses, but none of them looked like this was their normal style. Shoulders bulged out of sleeveless gowns, and heavy legs were visible under flared skirts. Kat guessed they were part of the production crew.

As Kat approached, they gathered tight around Kat, hugging her and saying "congratulations." One handed Kat a glass of champagne. Kat lifted her veil and downed the glass in one gulp. She hugged each of the women, and then looked for someplace to sit. It was too hot and she had walked too far. Time to sit.

Clarisse helped. She led Kat to the far side of the table, back in the corner. The women gathered in close, their chairs up against Kat's.

"Hot from the walk over here? Have another glass of champagne." Kat took the glass, but noticed it seemed funny in her hand. And her shoulders suddenly dropped. Her glass was drugged. Kat thought it interesting. She felt comfortable. Not afraid, even as she realized her thighs were now numb. She wouldn't be moving soon.

Interesting drug. Not poison. What would be the point? If Clarisse wanted her dead, she could do it out along some country road. No, she and her friends wanted her alive. And aware, but not too aware or too rebellious. What she got was a relaxant. She felt her shoulders droop and her back slouch against her chair. She was still awake, but she was incredibly calm. The women who had sat tightly around her now gave her more space. One woman put a hand on her thigh, caressing her lightly. She found she liked it.

Clarisse leaned toward Kat and reached out a hand. Kat took it. She thought of squeezing it, or twisting it, but found her muscles didn't move that way. She left her hand on Clarisse's and felt Clarisse stroke her thumb across Kat's palm.

"Katherine, you are perfectly safe. You can feel that, can't you?" Kat nodded.

"I have some things to say to you that you won't like, but I think you will like much of what I say at the end." Kat nodded again. It seemed to be the way of the drug. Calm, agreeable.

"First, Adam won't be coming. He changed his mind about the marriage. Last night, actually. I bet you suspected a change in him." Kat nodded.

"It was nothing you did. You impressed all his backers. But Wes made an important observation. You are a better person than Adam. You have done so much for your country. Iraq, Afghanistan. You slept with a nuclear bomb because your country asked you to. Adam? College football and junior college teaching. If any reporter interviewed you two, you know who would get the most press, and who would look shabby by comparison." Kat nodded.

"The First lady should never be more interesting than the President." Kat nodded, but she had no idea why.

"He will be President. Not much of a man, really. But if Trump has taught us anything, it's that any loser with a TV show can be elected. Think of it as the ultimate decline of democracy. Adam has the finances, the friends, and a silly video show. His election is guaranteed. He just needs a wife. He has driven four prospects to Zurich just in the last month. It might take four or five more candidates, but he will find some beauty queen or television hostess who is interesting, but light as a feather. She will be First Lady, not you." Kat nodded.

"But you came out of this fine. You get the car and the money. Pretty good consolation prizes, I think." Kat nodded.

"And, there's more. In a surprise twist to the story, you get married after all. Turns out, you and I filled in the paperwork. Pay thirty Euros and walk out married. You can then take the paperwork to a church, or upstairs to a judge, or just walk out the door. All the same. We filled in the form; we are married."

She took a marriage certificate out of the large manila envelope and showed it to the ladies. They all laughed. Kat nodded. Clarisse raided her veil, held the certificate where it was visible, and kissed Kat while the other ladies took multiple pictures.

"You are my wife. That's really what you wanted anyway, isn't it?" Kat nodded.

"You might be wondering where we will live. After all, we were together in Amberg. Wouldn't it be marvelous if we could share our life together there?" Kat nodded.

"But, change in plans. We are going to drive your beautiful car east about twenty three hours to our new apartment near Gorky Park. Won't that be nice?" Kat nodded.

"We get the apartment and a lifetime stipend and two very significant medals for doing our new friends a favor while we are here in Fulda. And in the process of doing this favor, you get to see your old apartment again. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Kat nodded.

"Then let's go." All the women got up. Kat had some trouble standing, but a woman took each of her arms and steadied her. Kat knew where she was going, and why. But she couldn't think of any way to stop it. She nodded her head and moved out of the restaurant with her helpers. In a few minutes she would be a traitor to her country.

Chapter 30

The Nuclear Apartment

It was several blocks to Kat's car. Clarisse held one of Kat's arms, another woman held the other. She needed both of them. She was mostly able to move her legs, but nothing felt right. When her foot came down, it felt like it was landing on a layer of foam rubber. Her knees pressed against her skirts which somehow felt much heavier, suddenly heavy wool rather than cotton. Maybe the strangest sensation was just movement in general. She felt like she was dancing, or trying to dance, feeling very good about all that was happening, even as she knew she had almost no control over her legs. Strange.

All six crowded into Kat's BMW. Clarisse drove. One of the women sat at her side, the other three pressed against Kat in the back seat. It turned out the back seat didn't have much room. But they didn't go very far. They drove towards the train tracks, then turned the corner. Kat recognized the three apartment buildings. The destination was obvious. As was her response. There wasn't a damn thing she could do.

They surrounded Kat as they climbed the stairs to her apartment. Clarisse had a key, and they entered as if they were continuing a party. Jokes, talk, suggestions for more drinks. The apartment didn't look that different from Kat's time there. The living room was cramped, all the furniture old. They moved Kat into the bedroom. Queen sized bed, white duvet that hadn't been washed in a while. They put Kat face down on the bed and used plastic ties to pin her hands behind her back. Wide white tape went over her mouth. They found some cloth and bound her ankles.

The four women left the room, closing the door behind them. Clarisse laid down next to Kat, and wrapped her arms around her, face to face, chest to chest. She brushed Kat's hair from her face, and kissed her cheek.

"You won't be here very long. Relax. Enjoy. You get a chance to revisit your past. Then we're going to Moscow. I already asked permission when I met you in Amberg. They are happy to have you. They won't officially recognize our marriage, but they will respect our relationship. They promise a beautiful apartment in Moscow. We should be there by this time tomorrow. You will love it. They say we will be just a few blocks from Gorky Park. We can take long walks, or even jog if you would prefer. Winters we can ice skate.

"Some investigators will want to interview you. Don't worry. No rough stuff. They will want to ask you about police procedures only. They know you are retired. They probably won't even ask you about your time at NSA. Think of it as a time to get acquainted, and a time to provide some service to your new home.

"You look sleepy. Sleep if you wish. We will be here a few more hours, and then we will take that beautiful car of yours east." She played with Kat's hair, pulled Kat's hips tighter to her, and kissed around the edges of the tape that covered Kat's mouth. Kat moved her hands, trying to see if the drug still weakened her. It did. She tried to touch each of her fingers with her thumb, but couldn't do it.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions before you sleep. Nod if that is okay." Kat nodded. She found herself staring into Clarisse' eyes. They were beautiful. As was her voice. Kat moved her legs, bringing her thighs against Clarisse. Clarisse smiled and kissed her when she felt Kat's legs against hers. "You love being with me, don't you?" Kat nodded. "I love being with you too." Clarisse stroked Kat's hair and slid her hand along Kat's ass. She did circles with her hand while smiling inches from Kat's face.

"Katherine, when the nuke was in your apartment, it was in your bathroom, right?" Kat nodded. "In the wall behind the sink?" Kat shook her head. "Behind the toilet?" Kat shook her head again. "The bath tub?" Kat nodded. "The end with the faucet?" Kat shook her head. "The opposite end?" Kat nodded. "Thank you. That was very helpful. We'll have to take down much less plaster." Clarisse kissed Kat's forehead, told her to get some sleep, and slowly pushed herself away. She pulled Kat's veil over her face, and left, closing the bedroom door behind her. Kat rolled forward onto her face. She tried to move her hands again. Still nothing. She found she was incredibly tired. All she saw was a blur through the veil. She closed her eyes and slept.

"Katherine." Clarisse slid back onto the bed. One arm under her neck and along her back, pulling Kat tight against her, the other hand stroking her backside. She kissed Kat through the veil until she saw her eyes open. She left the veil across Kat's face. Kat looked at her, tired, confused, and blurred.

"Everyone is impressed with the job your engineers did. It took a few minutes to find the tape and screws that hold the wall covering in place, and then all you see are pipes running up the wall. Metal pipes. Brilliant. They would shield the bomb from detection, and deter anyone who wanted to remodel the bath. It looks like every pipe for the radiators goes through that corner. The woman doing the plumbing for us was ready to get out a cutting torch, and then she saw all you had to do was lift and push, and the pipes popped right out. Fake pipes. So cool."

"My God, I wish I had known you back when you lived here. Showering next to a nuclear weapon. Twenty two, right? Straight out of college. You had to be thinking, if I get that wall wet, maybe it shorts something, and you vanish. But you did it. Every day. Katherine. The girl who slept with a nuke. And showered with a nuke." She kissed Kat's forehead through the veil.

"I have to tell you, as we opened up that wall, we still hoped we would find a bomb. Do you have any idea what an American bomb would be worth? My friends in St. Petersburg nearly went out of their minds when I first told them about Adam's project. Do a story on the nuclear mines. An expert leading the way. Who knew what he might find. Maybe a bomb got left behind. Wouldn't that be interesting? Russia could take that bomb and do all kinds of useful things. You know they can tell the source of a bomb. I guess the way the isotope is refined. They say they can even tell if it is an old bomb or new – whether the uranium comes from Alabama or Idaho. It's like wine vintages. Over vodka one night we had a great time dreaming up targets. I have no idea what the final decision was, but there was lots of talk about a Polish airbase. Now suddenly, the Americans are nuking a Polish airbase. See what that does for NATO."

Kat tested her hands again. Still no control over her fingers. She could make a fist, but couldn't put any pressure on the plastic restraint. She tried to move her feet against the cloth around her ankles and the results weren't any better. Meanwhile, Clarisse held her and talked, her hands holding Kat tighter as she got more excited.

"But, no bomb. You already knew that. They were all removed while you were on duty here, right?" Kat nodded.

"Lift your hips up. Let me see if I can get your skirt higher." Kat raised her hips, and Clarisse pushed up on her skirt. She got a mound of satin and cotton, her hand buried underneath. "I think you will like this." Clarisse pushed her hand up under Kat's skirt, sliding her hand along Kat's thigh. "Nice? I know you like this." She worked her hand for a while, looking down into Kat's face. "Your eyes do such an interesting thing as you approach orgasm. You half close them, and your pupils dilate, and then it is like your eyes just wander. It is so easy to please you."

Kat found herself pushing herself tighter against Clarisse.

"That's it, Katherine. Feel it. Now, let me tell you how you are going to get a free trip to Moscow. The women out there are doing some wiring and getting the hiding place ready for a new occupant. The new bomb will be a little bigger, and a little heavier, but it will fit. And, where yours was 1.2 kiloton, ours is almost four. And you would be right if you thought I didn't know what a kiloton of TNT might do, but you would agree that whatever it does, four is bigger than one, right?"

Kat didn't move.

"And, I think you would agree this is the perfect place for it. If your nuke would keep our troops from driving west, our nuke will certainly keep your guys from driving east. Let's say we decided Ukraine should be liberated. Their leaders really are corrupt, and they are treating native Russians badly. So, we bring freedom to the Ukraine. The U.S. lands troops and materials in Frankfort or Ramstein and goes east fast. They get no farther than Fulda. Checkmate, don't you think? And all thanks to your old apartment."

Kat found she could shake her head. Clarisse tightened the veil around Kat's face and leaned close.

"You are worried some civilians would get killed, right? Maybe, but only if the Americans are dumb. You have to figure they will eventually check out your old apartment. They may be slow, but they will do the obvious – eventually. What they will find is an endless array of proximity fuses. Come close, lose sixty thousand German civilians. They will keep it quiet, of course, but we will let them know, they behave, or an apartment that was known to hold a U.S. nuke will detonate. Maybe they behave about the Ukraine, maybe about Estonia, maybe about who knows where else."

Kat was backing away from Clarisse, but Clarisse held her tight.

"Katherine, you and I will be a thousand miles away. We will have Russian pensions and Russian friends. And we will have each other. I will please you, and you will please me. You will be the perfect Russian wife. You will cook for me, clean for me, do my laundry, and share my bed. And I will treat you well."

Kat shook her head. Clarisse rolled over onto Kat, and put all her weight on her.

"You knew what you were doing when you signed that document. You knew you were marrying me. You have wanted to be with me since the first time we met. Well, you got what you wanted. Two of the women have gone off to get the device out of storage. Installing and safe guarding it may take another two hours, but then it will be all set, and we will begin our life together."

Kat started to shake her head, but Clarisse grabbed her head in both hands, pulling Kat's veil tight across her face.

"Don't be annoying. You wanted me. You have me. You will be a good wife to me, or there will be discipline." She stared down at Kat through the veil. Kat thought she looked more threatening as a blur. "Adjust to life, Katherine. You are a Russian wife now." She held her stare. Kat stared back.

Clarisse seemed to be in no hurry to move. Clearly she was waiting for the women to come back with the bomb. She had time. She was heavy, and she was hot. And it appeared she would stare down at Kat for hours. She wanted a response from Kat. She wanted acquiescence. She wanted acceptance. Kat stared back. It was the only form of resistance she had.

"You are my wife, Katherine. You signed. No one held a gun to your head. You had a good idea what was going on. You stood there in a wedding gown. Next to me. You posed with me at the dress shop. You smiled as people took pictures. People have been taking pictures of us for days. Two lovers. One reminiscing about her past in Fulda, showing the other her apartment with the nuclear accessories. Lots of uses for those pictures. Whatever second thoughts you are having now are just that – second thoughts. You are my wife. That's what you wanted, and that's what you are. You are my wife, and you will follow me to our new home. We will build a life together."

Kat's hands were under her, being crushed by her own weight and that of Clarisse. She felt them going numb. She tried moving her feet. Somehow they felt more normal. She pressed against the bindings around her ankles. The bindings didn't move, but at least Kat felt her ankles move with more strength. She stared up at Clarisse, controlled her breathing, and wondered if she would have a chance to break free before she was pushed into her car for her ride to Moscow. She might be able to run, if the chance came along.

Clarisse pushed a leg between Kat's. She had changed her strategy. She would entice. Her stare became a smile, and she kissed Kat's forehead, then lowered her head to whisper in Kat's ear.

"In that bridal shop, every time you looked in a mirror, you saw how good you looked. And then you would look over at me. You would turn your shoulder so I could see your breasts, and turn your hips so I could watch your ass move. You want me. You want me looking at you. You want me enticed by you. You liked it when I looked at you, didn't you?"

Kat nodded.

"And you like it when I touch you, don't you."

Kat nodded.

"One more thing for us to talk about before we finish this and begin our new life. You will hear rumors in Moscow. People talk. They will say things that you won't want to hear. So, let me be open about everything before we leave. You want that, don't you?"

Kat nodded.

"You came here trying to find who killed your friend. In an odd way, Katherine, it was you. I needed you here. I had already talked to my Moscow friends about you. I knew for sure you would be drawn back here when you saw Adam's silly videos. Then we could take pictures of you by the apartment, and later have you here to help find the hiding place for the bomb. We wanted you here.

"But you didn't come. Half the world watches Socrates and his silly show, but not you. You are too busy. So, what can I do to get you here? And no, killing Charlie was not easy. You think you can just look in the Yellow Pages under 'Killer'? My Moscow contacts gave me a phone number. I had to talk with this thug multiple times. I even ended up drawing him a map. I want it done here – with an X – so there was no way you would miss it. It had to be done practically on your doorstep. All to get your attention. None of which would have been necessary if you watched YouTube shows like the rest of the world."

"So, I did it for you..."

There was an explosion of gunfire in the other room. Dozens of shots fired. Several bullets came through the wall and the door.

Clarisse rolled onto the floor, and searched around for her purse. She opened it, pulled out a pistol, and cautiously rose to her feet. She stood with one hand on wall, her pistol in her right hand. She moved slowly to the door, the gun held high. She would go for a head shot. Whoever came through that door. No chest shot caught by a vest. A head shot. One and done.

Kat rolled to her side and moved her legs. They felt funny, but they moved. Kat put all her weight on her hip, her legs just off the bed. She used the basic leg sweep. Simple move. Catch the opponent on the ankles and knock their feet out from under them. But she didn't aim for the ankles. She took Clarisse at her knees. The top of her foot hit Clarisse's knee just as she was putting weight on it to draw closer to the door. Kat could see the knee bend to the side, all the ligaments torn. Clarisse screamed and fell.

A policeman kicked open the door, his rifle outstretched. Clarisse looked up at him and moved the pistol in her hand. The policeman shot her twice. Head shots. Then he aimed the rifle at Kat.

Chapter 31

Ramstein

Ten minutes later Kat was in the back seat of a German squad car. Her hands were still bound behind her. There was blood on her skirt, splattered across her when Clarisse had been shot, and blood on her shoes from crossing the main room of the apartment. Both of Clarisse' women were down, looking silly sprawled out in their frilly dresses, automatic weapons in their hands. Three German police had been hit. One looked pretty serious. Kat had been marched through all that and straight into the squad. The minute her butt hit the seat, the door slammed, the lights came on, and the cruiser raced off.

She expected a stop at the local police station, but they went straight for the highway and drove due west. Kat thought maybe Frankfurt. That would be good. Possible flight back to the US. But they were going southwest. Ramstein. Huge NATO base. Made sense. She could be interviewed there - and incarcerated there if they chose.

Kat moved her hands. Still limited coordination, but getting better. Her foot hurt where she had hit Clarisse, but she didn't think anything was broken. Bones in the foot were pretty strong. She had walked down the stairs and into the car pretty much under her own power. As for her mental state, she kept things simple. Was she still drugged? She started with one and doubled it over and over. She got confused at thirty two. In her twenties she could get to a million. Now she would be happy if she could at least double to sixty four correctly.

The stockade at Ramstein smelled like every other military stockade. And the process was the same. Mug shots and fingerprints. Not a lot of talking – stand here, turn, give me your hand, sit there, here's your room for the night. Her cell was at the far end of the cell block. Gray. Metal toilet, metal sink, blanket and pad on a metal bed. They had cut the plastic off her wrists. She couldn't believe how good that felt. Her veil had been taken off her in Fulda, as had the tape across her mouth. So now she could see, talk, and move her hands. Progress.

She took off the bloody shoes and the bloody dress and washed herself as best she could. Her blanket and pillow smelled of disinfectant, but she had no problem with that. She wrapped the blanket around herself and slept.

Jail clothes arrived with her breakfast. White trousers and shirt. P printed large in several places. They also gave her shower slippers before leading her down several long halls to an interview room. She couldn't help but laugh when she saw who was waiting for her – the lady FBI agent, Elise Konkol.

"Kind of you to come all this way just to see me."

"I was on a flight right after yours. It has been an interesting several days." She pointed to a chair. It was on one side of a metal table. Opposite was a large mirror. Konkol pointed to it. "Seven or eight senior people will be witness to our interview. I will introduce them all to you later. We thought it best if our talks started with fewer distractions and possible interruptions. We do have some concern with the drug given you."

Kat took the chair and nodded to the mirror. "I'm fine. No long term effects that I can observe."

"You'll be given a medical exam later this morning to be sure."

"Fine. Now tell me the one thing that matters. Did you get the bomb?"

"Yes. We followed your car. The bomb was stored in a warehouse. We got them as they were putting it in your trunk."

"How did they get it into Germany?"

"Pretty clever, really. They used the truck of a German company. Machine tools to Russia, refinery equipment in need of repair back to Germany. The bomb was under a broken generator."

"And Clarisse Hansen?"

"I suppose you want to know why she did it."

"No. Criminals all have their own twisted logic. I want to know how she did it. How does a grade school teacher from Waukesha become a Russian agent?"

"We think she was recruited in college. Foreign exchange student. They became lovers. I'm guessing her handlers back in Moscow thought recruiting a grade school teacher was a complete waste. But they hit the jackpot when she went to work for Adam Taylor."

"And me? Am I under arrest?"

"No. We're going to need about three days of your time. We will want your observations about all the people you were in contact with. We are especially concerned about Adam Taylor's possible involvement, and that of his supporters. Did we get all the bad guys, or are there more out there? In the meantime, we are gathering up all your belongings. Your car is out in the parking lot, by the way. The nuclear device fit easily. Huge trunk. Quite a car."

"Am I a prisoner?"

"No. They should have put you in medical isolation until the drugs wore off. But our German friends didn't want to take any chances. About twenty people will apologize to you. We will get you a uniform to wear until your clothes arrive. And we will move you to bachelor officer quarters."

"When you came to see me in Amberg, how much of this did you already know?"

"We knew enough to be careful. Your old friends at NSA were already monitoring some phones. Your call there pushed the investigation up a level or two."

"Could you have protected Charlie?" Kat's hands slid back to her sides. She hid her fists below the table.

"We're not that smart or that fast, Kat. Day late and a dollar short. We will review our procedures, but sometimes we lose." Kat studied her face. The concern seemed genuine. Kat relaxed her hands.

The interviews actually lasted for four days. Kat had to cancel another workshop. Fishing. It was one she liked. But she understood the importance of the interviews. She was treated well. They gave her an officer's uniform until her clothes arrived, addressed her as "major," and treated her with respect. The German policeman who had pushed into that bedroom came by to thank Kat. He understood how close he had come. Kat thanked him for rescuing her.

Left unsaid by both of them was Clarisse' death. The policeman's reactions had been instant – and necessary. For Kat it was a bit of revenge for Charlie's murder. Still, Kat had loved Clarisse. She wished Clarisse had been worthy of that love.

Chapter 32

Two More Flights

It was already August by the time Kat got back to Amberg. She fell back into the workshop routine. Friday greetings, Sunday departures, Monday laundry. She had a few leftover requirements from her time in Fulda. She put her BMW in storage. Driving it around Amberg would have been insane. It fit better in Germany. If she ever went back, it would be waiting for her.

It turned out her marriage to Clarisse was legal. She had her body shipped back to Waukesha and stood with her parents graveside when she was buried. Her parents made an effort at courtesy, but referred to Kat as Clarisse' friend, not her wife. Kat left within an hour of Clarisse' burial. Adam sent a check to cover all expenses.

It was later August when Kat flew to LA. Adam agreed to meet her at the airport. He was waiting when she got off the plane. They found the nearest restaurant and had a sandwich. Kat's flight back to Chicago was just an hour off. Kat had asked for the meeting, and she did most of the talking.

"I want to tell you a story. I want your promise to never repeat it. But I want you to hear it. I think it will make you a better man." Adam nodded.

"In 1974 four junior officers chose not to follow an order. They could all have gone to jail, but they chose to take that risk. They were part of the team putting nuclear mines along the border with East Germany. They received the order to put one in that apartment. They chose not to do that. They buried two mines in one of the holes on the border. It would have left a hell of a hole, but no civilians would have been killed. For the apartment, they welded two five gallon paint cans together, put the standard canvas cover on them, complete with the correct serial numbers, and that is what went into the apartment."

"So there was no nuclear bomb in Fulda?" Adam looked confused.

"Never. Charles Brandt kept in position for the next twenty years, putting off one plush assignment after another so he could stay in Fulda and protect their secret. Then came the excavations. He had to sneak a bomb into my apartment in order to then take it out. And that's what he trusted me with. I bought a small refrigerator. He got the extra bomb out of the ground, we put it in my refrigerator box, got it loaded into my bathroom, and the paint cans – we turned them back into paint cans."

"Clever."

"Do you understand the risk? He is moving a fifty pound nuclear bomb around. Obviously he had help. But he got it done. At the risk of his freedom and the cost of his career, he protected sixty thousand civilians."

"So did you."

"I helped a little at the very end. And I was proud to do it. Proud to be asked for my help. I am prouder of what I did my first year in uniform than anything I did after."

"Yes, I can see that."

"Then take the next step. A decade after his retirement, some guy looking for eyeballs on YouTube puts Charlie in a video. And implied he was a risk to the people of Germany. You did that."

There was a long silence. Actually Kat was grateful for the silence. She would have beaten Adam half to death if he had tried some lame excuse or justification. Instead, he finally said the right thing.

"I'm sorry."

"You're part of an industry that sells conspiracies and anger for profit. If you really are sorry, stop doing that. That's all I came here to say. Try to be a better man."

Kat got up and walked to her departure gate. She never heard from Adam again.

A week later she took a flight with Jim. There had been some rough times when she first returned from Fulda. She returned his ring. He came over for his usual Wednesday evening with her. She sat with him on her front porch and told him she still wanted to be his friend, and maybe his lover, but he should keep his ring until he was actually ready to marry her. He had not taken it well. Five weeks later he was back with flowers. A long evening later they were lovers again.

The flight she took with Jim was to Washington. An Honor Flight. She had contacted the Wausaukee American Legion Post and learned more about the flights. Forty three World War II and Korean War veterans would be flying out of Green Bay. Most were in wheel chairs or used walkers. They needed helpers. Jim agreed to join her.

They each ended up paired with a Korean War veteran. Kat's veteran was a Marine who had been at the Chosun Reservoir. He never mentioned the Chinese. He spoke about friends he had lost in that battle, and friends he had lost since. He was respectful when he found out Kat had been a major and fought in Iraq and Afghanistan.

They were only in Washington for the day. There were people at the arrival gate to cheer and salute the veterans and plenty of cheers along the way. But the men tired easily, and the Washington Mall is huge. The World War II Memorial is at the end up by the capitol building, the Korean War monument is all the way at the other end. Just getting the men from one to the other took busses and time.

The two memorials are dramatically different, the World War II Memorial being pillars and words, the Korean War Memorial showing men on patrol, gray statues looking alert and a bit bedraggled. The men sat and looked and talked about men they knew, men who looked like one statue or another. Most cried. Kat and Jim stood, waited, and listened, only pushing the wheel chairs when the veterans were ready.

When the busses came to get the men at the end of the day, a man in a suit stopped Kat.

"Your donation will pay for many more flights."

"Good."

"We have a plaque we would like to present to you."

"My name goes on no plaque. I hope I made that clear. The money is donated in the name of Colonel Charles Brandt."

"All $250,000?"

"Yes."

The man straightened up and saluted Kat. She returned the salute, then got on the bus and sat next to her veteran. He was clearly exhausted, but he had one more story he wanted to tell Kat about a friend he had made in basic. He talked most of the way back to Green Bay before dropping off to sleep.

Author's Note

Amberg exists. It's a tiny place, but look carefully, and you can find it in the extreme northeast corner of Wisconsin. Nuclear mines were placed on the border near Fulda. Wikipedia has an excellent description of the mines and their purpose. I taught a short course at Fulda's university and was able to visit the border lookout tower while there. It is worth a visit, as is the beautiful city of Fulda. There is no record any mines were placed in or directly adjacent to the city of Fulda.

