CHAPTER 1
Thursday, March 4, 19424:40 a.m.
Fog partially obscured the seemingly deserted SandyHook, New Jersey beach as the rubber raft rolled in withthe tide. Ninety minutes earlier a German U-boat hadsurfaced eight miles offshore to offload two passengersclad in wetsuits, fins, and toting duffel bags, alongwith $150,000 in U.S. and Canadian currency. Near theshoreline, both eased silently into the waist-high surf,pulled the small raft up onto the beach, deflated andfolded it into quarters.
"We'll bury this under the pier," Lukas Schottwhispered in perfect, Boston-accented, English.
The other nodded. Hillside houses across the narrowbay were dark. As the pair hastened across the loose,dry sand toward the pier, they observed a single parkedcar. Dozens of seagulls and smaller birds arose and flewaway parallel to the water. Within a minute, the two stoodunderneath the pier, staring past the posts for a spot tobury the raft, as they removed their waterproof garments.Lukas moved away to urinate. Both were completely bald.One was a woman—Rebekka Bader.
She leant down, unbuckled her duffel bag, grasped ashort-handled shovel, began digging, then stopped whenshe heard a female giggle. She turned around to look.Less than twenty feet away a teenaged couple peered atthem from a single sleeping bag. A young man coveredhis girlfriend's mouth with his hand.
"Sorry to disturb you," Rebekka said, as she set downthe shovel. Hers was an Alabama accent. "Nature calledfor my boyfriend. You know how that goes."
Lukas returned to his duffel bag and removed someclothing.
"We got disoriented in the fog," Rebekka said. "Whereare we?"
"Sandy Hook beach," the teenaged boy replied.
"Good Lord," Rebekka said. "Did you hear that,sweetheart? You missed by two miles." She laughedcheerfully. "My goodness gracious."
Lukas joined in. "I told you the tide seemed sideways."
"He wants to enlist in the Coast Guard ... can youimagine?" she said.
"She's making me look real bad," Lukas said. "Womenare like that, you know." He laughed.
"You don't have any hair," the teenaged girl said."You're bald ... both of you."
"Makes his preparation more realistic," Rebekkareplied. "Rather stunning, don't you think? Our friendscan't get over it."
She spotted their clothes strewn beside the sleepingbag, stooped down to remove a dagger and a sweatshirtfrom her duffel bag, and approached the couple.
"Did you get here in a boat?" she asked.
"Harold drove," the teenaged girl replied. "Not veryfar, though ... three miles ... we both live up the hill inHighland." She glanced in that direction.
"You don't look old enough, Harold, to own a newcar," Rebekka said.
"Ha ha ha. Does that look like a new car?" he asked,pointing to a 1928 Model A Ford parked beside the end ofthe pier. "It's not mine, it's my dad's."
"Out on the town, huh?" she said. "Good for you,Harold. Let me show you something."
She fell on him, dagger in hand, and with one swiftmotion slashed his throat. The girl's scream was shortenedby a second blade stroke. They both lay dead.
"Did you consider an alternative?" Lukas asked.
"Americans kill Germans for no reason. We killAmericans for good cause. We got a car, didn't we?"Rebekka replied.
"Until these two are found."
"We'll get another ... then another."
Lukas located the car key and wallet in Harold's pants,while Rebekka wiped blood off the dagger, then zippedthe bodies inside the sleeping bag.
"Let's wrap them around this post and mound it withsand," he said. "It'll take hours to find them."
Within minutes they accomplished the task, donnedcasual garments and jackets, stuffed paper documentsinto their waistbands, then headed for the dead boy's carwith their gear.
* * *
Rebekka Bader had been raised in a Frankfurt orphanageuntil age eleven, following her parents deaths in 1914,within two weeks of each other. Her mother died duringchildbirth, and her father was killed at the Battle of Verdunduring the Great War, while serving as an Unterwachtmeister(Sergeant) in an artillery regiment.
Her blonde beauty and small stature belied her guile,mean streak, and controlled strength. Schoolboys wereafraid of her. In wrestling, she challenged and pinnedmale opponents twenty pounds heavier (followingpokes in the eye and kicks in the groin), won every footrace, caused multiple bruised ribs and black eyes on theplayground. Instructors smiled. She'd sent older boysto the hospital with concussions and skull fractures byslamming their heads against concrete stairs and otherhard objects. Aggression made her un-adoptable, butcreated favor with military authorities.
Following Primary school at age eleven, she was theonly female her own age selected to attend the AdolfHitler School for six years of Secondary school, and brutalphysical training. She wasn't separated from the boysin the all-male dormitories and shower facilities. Strictrules prohibited promiscuous behavior, although she'dlured many who were severely punished as a result, thenexpelled during her stay.
From there, instead of University, she was sent tothe Sicherheitsdienst Academy in Berlin for three yearsof advanced training, followed by flight school for theLuftwaffe. During the Spanish Civil War in 1937, she copiloteda Dornier Schnell bomber in the Condor Legion(Kampfgruppe 88), and amidst a mission of systematicbombing of Guernica in Northwest Spain, she'd managedto return her shot-up plane to base and save the entirecrew, after the pilot had been blown out of his seat byheavy flak.
She'd gotten the attention of Reichsführer-SS HeinrichHimmler, then Herman Goring, who'd deemed her anideal officer candidate for Intelligence (Abwehr) and theSS (Schutzstaffel). Sicherheitsdienst worked closely with theGestapo.
Languages were a natural for Rebekka. She'd becomefluent in five of them without a German accent, and eachwith various regional accents. Instructors considered hera prodigy. For her current assignment, she studied moviesstarring Mae West, Veronica Lake, Tallulah Bankhead,Bette Davis, Greta Garbo, Joan Crawford, and HedyLamarr.
The year before she earned her leutnant (2nd lieutenant)commission, she'd headed up a group of Brownshirtsin Berlin, and won a competition for the number ofJewish families throughout Germany she'd reportedto the Gestapo. One was the physician at the Frankfurtorphanage; another was her best female friend there withfour siblings; another was the proprietor of the candystore across the street from the Primary school.
Her record contained a narrative that described heras "a born leader, quick learner, expert marksman, coolunder pressure, and a beautiful, ferocious bitch, notto be underestimated." She benefited with acceleratedpromotions.
During Germany's annexation of Sudetenland in1939, then Hauptmann (Captain) Bader, as an Intelligenceofficer in Abwehr, led the raid that overtook the borderradio station to broadcast propaganda; and, subsequently,performed the same role the weekend preceding thehorrific and bloody invasion of Poland.
* * *
Lukas spotted the parked Zurlini Brothers Produce deliverytruck with its loading ramp extended to the ground, thensteered onto the roadside diner parking lot, and stoppedalongside the vehicle. Even though dawn was beginningto break through the dense cloud cover, garish lightsfrom inside the eating establishment and a neon signatop the one-story building created elongated shadowsfrom nearby parked vehicles.
Less than twenty-five minutes had elapsed since heand Rebekka had thrown their gear into the 1928 ModelA Ford, and driven to Tinton Falls, New Jersey. HeadingEast toward Newark, they'd passed through the town ofSea Bright, where they crossed the Highland-Sea Brightdrawbridge on Route 36 over the Shrewsbury River.
"We'll switch vehicles here," he whispered, as he gotout. "The boy's father will be missing his car soon. Actlike you're working on the engine when the truck driverreturns. Ask him for a ride. I'll hide in the truck cab."
Rebekka covered her head with a scarf from a duffel bag,exited the car, lifted the engine cover, and disconnectedthe coil wires. Another vehicle turned off the highwayand parked, facing the diner. Two men emerged, chattingamiably, and walked inside without looking her way.
Two minutes later, the truck driver pushed a dolly outthe front door, clattered it down four wooden steps, andstrode with it across the gravel toward Rebekka and histruck.
"Looks like you have a problem," he said, as he rolledthe dolly up the ramp and gazed at her.
"Last rites ... she's a goner," Rebekka replied, with aSouthern accent. "How could my brother do this to me?"She sounded tearful.
The driver put away the dolly, then approached her.
"Maybe I can help," he said.
"Which way are you headed?" she asked.
"My next two stops are in Shrewsbury."
"I teach a six o'clock swimming class at the YWCAthere. This is my first day. I'm not going to make it."
"It's on my way. I'll give you a ride."
"Oh, my goodness, thank you. I've got two bags full ofswimming gear for my students in the car. They're quiteheavy."
"I'll throw them in the back of my truck. Show mewhere they are."
Rebekka closed the engine cover, then opened therear door.
"Take this one first, it's the heaviest," she said.
The driver heaved it out and carried it up the ramp.Rebekka hastily opened the second duffel bag, removeda 9mm Luger parabellum pistol, screwed a silencer ontothe barrel, secreted it into her waistband, and closed thebag. The driver returned.
"This one is lighter," she said.
"What about your car?"
"I'll phone my brother later. You can't imagine howhappy I am that you saw me."
"I'm never too busy to keep from helping a lady inneed."
He hoisted the duffel bag onto his shoulder and carriedit up the ramp into the rear of the truck, but she followed.While he carefully set the bag down beside the other one,she drew out the Luger pistol and shot him twice in theback. He slumped to the floor. He was dead.
She dragged his body behind some crates of lettuce,exited down the ramp, slid it back into the truck, closedand latched the rear doors, then hurried to the driver'sside of the truck and stepped up into the cab.
Lukas remained in a leant-down position, as Rebekkastarted the truck and engaged it in gear.
"Where's the driver?" he asked. His six foot two inchframe pressed against the door.
"In back. He won't bother us. Perhaps, this will takeus to Newark."
Lukas waited until she steered smoothly onto thehighway and traveled for two minutes before he sat up.Sunlight had broken through scattered clouds; traffic hadpicked up; a road sign indicated the distance to Newarkwas twenty-seven miles. Lukas removed a packet wrappedin plastic from his waistband, and selected a street map oftheir first destination.
"We'll drive through downtown Newark on this roadto South Street," he said, "then right to Van Buren Avenue,then an immediate right into the alley. The back door atLink Printing & Photography is blue. It's marked 1214 South.I'll wait for you outside with our gear, while you ditch thetruck two or three blocks away."
* * *
Lukas had been raised in royalty. His parents, a GermanCount and Countess (Pfalzgraf and Pfalzgrafin), owned vasttracts of property in Southern Germany, including slopedvineyards along the Rhine River in Rhineland-Palatinate.Their Schott Reisling wine label was an internationalfavorite. They'd raised their only heir (Erbgraf) as a countrygentleman, sent him to private prep schools, then theUniversity of Munich, where he earned Master Degrees inMechanical Engineering and Business Administration.His plan to be involved in the various family businesseswas forestalled by his recruitment into the Reichwehr(Army), then transfer to Abwehr (Intelligence Service). Herapidly attained the rank of Oberstleutnant (LieutenantColonel).
Being partnered with a female was a surprise. He'dexpected this assignment to be solo, but subsequentchanges in details of the mission required a combinationsniper-decoy-faux girlfriend/wife-bomber pilot.
CHAPTER 2
Jorg Lange never wanted to assist the Nazis, be associatedwith spies, or even become aware of international politics,but he felt he had no choice from the outset. When he'demigrated from Germany in 1934 to Newark, NewJersey and opened Link Printing & Photography, financialsubsidies had been provided by the Third Reich. Hiswife of three years had died from tuberculosis beforehe left his homeland. In Stuttgart, he'd been a masterprinter, photographer, and creator/forger/counterfeiterof documents and currency that needed to withstandscrutiny from government, police, and banks. He gotcaught and would have faced a lengthy jail term, withoutacquiescing to the generous offer to provide similarservices in America for the Nazis.
Adolf Hitler had been elected Chancellor in 1933 bypromising full-employment, clamping down on laborunions, and providing a better life for natural-bornGerman citizens. The leader of the Nationalist SocialistParty also espoused a philosophy labeled "Lebensraum"—providingmore land and space for residents—whilerailing against restrictive covenants of the Versailles Treatyimposed on Germany by its European and Americanconquerors following the Great War. Jorg Lange, along witha substantial majority of Germans, voted him into office.
At the non-negotiable urging of his Nazi benefactors,Lange Americanized his name by changing it to GeorgeLink, and went through the process of attaining U.S.citizenship in 1937. His criminal record had been expungedpreviously by the Nazis, and replaced with a contrivedbiography.
Since 1935, he'd prepared American and Canadiandocuments, including passports, drivers licenses, birthcertificates, military records, even college diplomas, fora long procession of German spies whose missions wereanonymous to him. Preceding each situation, he'd receiveda terse phone call issuing him a code-word, response,and re-response. Within hours, usually no more than oneday later, he heard a knock at the back door of his printshop.
* * *
"Where's Pinocchio?" Lukas asked.
"I'm Geppetto," George Link replied, as he opened theblue door wider.
"We are Jiminy Cricket and the Blue Fairy," Rebekkasaid. "We are here to grant your wish."
"Pinocchio's on my work bench," George Link replied.
He stood aside, as Lukas and Rebekka entered theprint shop with duffel bags over their shoulders.
"Follow me downstairs into the basement," Georgesaid. "Have you eaten breakfast?"
"Late supper on the boat," Lukas replied.
Rebekka laughed. "Gruel and re-heated coffee grounds."
"My kitchen is down here," George said. "I whip upa mean omelet."
"How long will we remain here?" Rebekka asked.
"Four hours at most," George replied. "After you eat,I'll pose you one-at-a-time for various I.D's and disguisesof your choosing. I've got everything you'll need."
"What about the clothing we brought with us?" Lukasasked.
"Toss all of it, along with your duffel bags. I've gotsuitcases."
The printer's reply fit Rebekka's agenda. Alteringeverything about herself and the Colonel throughoutthe mission provided protection against discovery byunscrupulous others. Even her and the Colonel's routesand means of transportation to the target area mustremain shrouded in mystery. Sleeper agents in Americacould only learn of their existence when they arrived attheir destination.
George Link only knew about them after they'dknocked on his door, although future contacts knew thecode-words. Nothing in his field of expertise baffled him.He possessed a prototype for every imaginable documentand logo; and could match typestyle, size, ink color, paperstock quality, and even age them to indicate a decades-earlierissue date.
The fake credentials issued in Berlin were potentiallyperilous, she believed, because American spies there mightlearn of them, and needed to be destroyed. How couldany mission be secret otherwise? The pair knew how toidentify their contacts, but contacts couldn't identify themwithout the code words, Pinocchio's parents. And, even thatwas worrisome.
She and Lukas each chose multiple documents andwardrobes for diverse occupations. Names they selected orinvented included Connor MacTavish, Jerry Burke, FranklinPhillips, Virginia Barber, Valerie Monson, Muriel Simpson, andAndrew and Joy Meadows—married couple.
