The Arms Maker Of Berlin Part 34

"Maybe I don't have anything to get off my chest," Kaplan said, not looking pleased.

"Oh, maybe not, Murray. But you two make yourselves comfortable. Then we'll see."

She led them to a Florida room in the back, wall-to-wall windows, all of them cranked open, with a view of a ca.n.a.l behind the back lawn. A rowboat that had seen better days was overturned in the gra.s.s.

"Lemonade or iced tea?" Doris asked.

"Tea, please."

Berta nodded in agreement. So far she hadn't said a word. Maybe she was worried about her accent. To some American vets it was an instant turnoff.

"And I hope you brought an appet.i.te, 'cause I've got fresh shrimp salad."

This, at least, was a subject Kaplan could warm to.

"Caught the shrimp last night. You just hang a Coleman lantern on the dock and dip a net. Twenty years ago you could fill it in ten minutes, but the water's not what it used to be. Wouldn't matter so much if you didn't have to watch for gators. One of 'em got a jogger just last week. Young lady down by the golf course."

Berta glanced with alarm toward the ca.n.a.l, as if a gator might emerge any second.

"Sounds creepy," Nat said.

"Florida's creepy," Kaplan replied. creepy," Kaplan replied.

"But you came from New York?"

"I was a dentist in Queens."

"That's not where I would have pegged the accent."

"Grew up in West Virginia. Hartwell Springs. My dad kept the books for the local mining company. We were the only Jews in town. It's where I met Doris."

As if summoned by her name, Doris carried in a tray laden with plates, forks, a bowl of gloppy-looking shrimp salad, and slices of white bread. She set it on a folding TV table. Kaplan waited until she was gone before commenting.

"Sorry 'bout all the mayo. Doris has a very high opinion of Miracle Whip."

But it wasn't bad, and Nat was grateful that at least one of the Kaplans was already in their corner. Murray might need some coaxing.

"So, where would you like to begin?" Nat said.

"I went over all this business of these missing records a long time ago, with an OSS board of inquiry. Gordon did, too. They swore us to secrecy, I might add."

"It's been more than fifty years. You're free to speak now."

Doris piped up from around the corner.

"See, honey? I told you that was the case."

"Yeah, well, there's things besides secrecy laws. Loyalty to your friends, for one."

"Well, for what it's worth," Nat said, "I think he really would want you to talk to me."

"You did say some nice things about him at the service. I looked up the coverage on the Internet."

If Kaplan had gone to that much trouble, he probably also knew about their falling-out, so Nat decided to level with him.

"We had our problems toward the end, but when it came to history we were always after the same thing."

Kaplan nodded but said nothing.

"How long had you known him when you two were a.s.signed to this records detail?"

"He'd come on board in late '43, the first of our flyboys. Dulles liked him 'cause his German was good. I'd been with the OSS about a year. I was in dental school there when the war started, and I got stuck when the borders closed. I met Dulles on a train to Geneva and he offered me a job on the spot. I figured, what the h.e.l.l, serve my country while I'm biding my time. Worked out pretty good, I guess."

"Did you work with Gordon much?"

"We downed a few beers now and then, but professionally I hardly ever saw him."

"Is that because he was out in the field a lot?"

"That was part of it, I guess. Plus those months in the hospital."

"Hospital?"

"He never mentioned his leg injury?"

"I, uh, always thought he got that from a flak wound."

"h.e.l.l, no. He came down without a scratch. Healthy as a mule. This was toward the end of the war. Some half-a.s.sed infiltration operation that went FUBAR on him."

"Infiltration? Into Germany?"

"That was the word around the legation. Don't know if it was true. I was never privy to that stuff."

Finally something to flesh out some of the cryptic items from the National Archives.

"This operation, was it called 'Fleece' by any chance?"

"Coulda been. Never heard a name, though. All I know is that everyone said it was a c.o.c.k-up from the get-go, and that he came back with a pretty nasty wound."

"From a firefight?"

"Can't say."

"Can't or won't?" Doris shouted the question from the next room.

"Can't, dear. And you're not helping. Let the young man ask his questions."

"So you don't know any more details, like what it was about, or who was involved?"

"That's right. None of that was in my bailiwick."

"Does the name Kurt Bauer ring a bell? Or Erich Stuckart?"

"Neither."

He said it without hesitation. Nat studied Kaplan's face and concluded he was telling the truth.

"So Gordon never mentioned either of them to you later?"

"Not to me."

Doris piped up again.

"How 'bout to anyone else?"

"Honey, please!" please!"

Nat offered a smile of commiseration, but hoped she would keep it up. She seemed convinced her husband had something to hide.

"Okay, so Gordon was in the hospital. Do you remember the dates?"

"Must have been around February of '45. Got out around the end of April. Yes, that's right, 'cause it was the day Hitler shot himself. The news had just come in over the radio."

The dates matched perfectly with the Loofbourow memo that had mentioned Gordon's transfer to the Zurich safe house.

"I guess he must have healed up pretty good, because in July, of course, we both went into Germany as part of Dulles's staff. For the occupation forces."

"What were your duties?"

"I was deskbound. Pushing papers. He was out in the ruins, poking around. Beyond that, who knows? None of those guys ever said."

"Remember anyone named Martin Gollner?"

"No."

"Ex-Gestapo?"

Kaplan shook his head.

"So then you went back to Bern in, what, October?"

"Yep. And that's when they put Gordon and me on the records detail. I wasn't too thrilled about it, because by then I was itching to go home."

"I guess everybody was."

"Not Gordon. He applied for another hitch as soon as we got back to Bern. The new station chief had arrived, and everybody figured the OSS would just keep rolling along. Truman didn't dissolve it till later."

"Gordon wanted to stay full-time? You're sure?"

"Oh, yeah. Positive."

"Did he say why?"

Kaplan shrugged and a.s.sumed a pained expression. He took a long swallow from his iced tea and lowered his voice.

"Tell me. Is Gordon's wife still alive?"

"Yeah. Her name's Vivian."

"Right. I think he mentioned her once or twice. And, well, I dunno, I just wouldn't want any of this getting back to her."

"No reason it has to." Nat turned toward Berta. "Right?"

"I have no interest in this aspect of the account," she said.

Kaplan seemed taken aback by the accent, but didn't comment. Instead, he peered toward the door, as if determining whether his wife was still listening. He leaned closer.

"Truth be told, there's a lotta stuff from back then I wouldn't even want Doris to know. We were h.o.r.n.y young bucks a long way from home, if you know what I mean."

"I get the picture. So it was a girl, then? That's why Gordon wanted to stay?"

"Yep. And she'd gone missing."

"Missing?"

"Once we came back, anyway. He went looking for her almost every day, showing her picture around town."

"Sabine Keller?"

Kaplan seemed surprised.

"Now how in the h.e.l.l did you know that?"

"Research."

"You sound just like Gordon. He was always pretty cagey about his sources."

"Did you know her?"

"No, but he showed me her picture. She was pretty. Apparently he hadn't been able to find her since he'd gotten out of the hospital."

"So she'd been missing for almost seven months. Wasn't she from Adelboden?"

"That's right. Out in some valley in the mountains."

"Did he look there?"

"h.e.l.l, he looked everywhere. Anytime he had a day to spare. Zurich, Geneva, all over Bern. Then, a few days after we got put on the records detail, he stopped. He came in one morning and you could see it in his face. It was like somebody had shut out the lights."