“So why bother asking?”
“I wanted to make him curious. He’ll check the manifest, and when he sees my name he’ll know the paperwork has been tampered with. And then he’ll come to me. It’s his job on the line over this, not mine. And if I know Kubis at all, the first thing he will do is cover his ass.”
“Why do you think the dog is listed as yours?”
“I don’t know. But I want to find out.” Max taps two fingernails on the table in rapid succession. They sound like castanets. He goes on like this for several moments but he doesn’t share his thoughts with Werner.
The cabin boy knows that adults keep their secrets. And this airship abounds with them. The journalist had found him before lunch and interrogated him about the poker game the night before. He told her all that he could remember about the American and the questions he asked. He told her about getting caught, and she seemed contrite at the danger she placed him in. Werner doesn’t understand what she’s after, but he knows that all of these things are related somehow. He just can’t piece them together. He doesn’t understand the bigger picture.
The silence stretches on for so long that Werner finally says, “I didn’t find it.”
The gun. He doesn’t mention this out loud. And Max doesn’t need him to clarify. It’s simply understood.
“Did you look in any of the rooms?”
“No. Balla took the key back not long after I left your room.”
Werner is about to apologize, but Max holds up his hand. “Don’t worry about it. It was wrong of me to let you try.”
“I did learn something yesterday, though.” Max waits for him to continue and Werner thinks for a minute, trying to get the order of events straight. “That woman, the journalist, made me go to the kitchen last night to spy for her—”
“Made?” Max interrupts.
“She blackmailed me.” He shrugs as though this should be obvious.
“How?” Max asks, his knuckles white as he grips the table. “Did she have something to blackmail you with?”
This is the second time in as many days that Werner has found himself dealing with the issue of blackmail, and he knows that Max has less patience for it now than he did the first time. Werner shrinks back several inches and forces himself not to cover his ears. He’s afraid Max will box them at any moment.
“Irene Doehner kissed me yesterday, and the journalist saw, and she said she would tell Irene’s father if I didn’t do what she asked.” The words tumble out in one long string. Werner doesn’t stop to catch his breath until he has dumped the entire confession right in front of Max.
The navigator raises one eyebrow in disbelief. “She kissed you?”
Werner crosses his arms over his chest and slouches against the booth. “Yes. Is it that much of a surprise?”
Max laughs. “Yes.”
So he’s not angry, then, just surprised.
“For the record,” Max adds, “I would have done the same thing if I were you. But I am curious what she had you spy on.”
“The poker game in the crew’s mess.”
“Why?”
“The American joined the game last night even though he’s not supposed to. But they let him in because he had money and some expensive jewelry. She wanted me to listen to everything he said and did. She wanted all the details.”
“And did you tell her these details?”
“Yes.”
Max groans and sinks into his seat. “Good grief, Werner. You get into more trouble than any boy I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t worry,” Werner says, and it’s his turn to have a mischievous grin. “The American didn’t find out why I was there.”
“Oh?”
“I go to the kitchen every night to fetch Kubis after I shine the shoes. I told the American they never let me join the game, but I wanted to listen anyway. He let me go.”
“Just like that?”
“Well, he walked me back to my cabin—no doubt to make sure I didn’t run off and talk to anyone. But he didn’t bother me after that.”
Max leans across the table, curious now. “What exactly did you learn, Werner?”
Just as he’s about to tell Max about the American and the poker game, the conversations, betting, and the distinct interest in Ludwig Knorr, Commander Pruss walks into the crew’s mess.
“Coffee,” the commander tells Werner. “Cream, no sugar.”
The cabin boy leaps up to obey this order, and Pruss takes his place at the table. He drops his cap onto the lacquered wood surface and says, “We have a problem.”
Werner thinks Max’s face betrays a look of fear, but the expression is gone in a blink.
“How so?” Max asks.
Pruss cracks the knuckles on his left hand. “We’re going to land much later than expected.”
THE STEWARDESS