“I find myself in a rather precarious situation and I’m looking for…options. I believe you can provide me with one.”
The decision came to Emilie immediately upon waking this morning. She learned long ago never to rob herself of sleep, no matter the tragedy or trouble she faced. To Emilie sleep is the solution to every problem. She lets each worry surface in her mind once her head is on the pillow, but she does not try to solve any of them. Emilie thinks of them as tiny spots of light, like those luminous pinpricks that dance in her peripheral vision when she is dizzy. Each concern is a bright spot in her mind. She studies the problems from every angle, acknowledges their presence, waits for them to go dark or brighten. And then she wills her body to sleep, starting at her toes and working her way up, inch by inch, toward her mind. The stewardess learned this skill in the hard, lonely days after her husband died, when she would lie awake at night weeping and worrying, only to be disgusted with herself in the morning, stumbling around in a state beyond anything that could even be described as exhaustion. Now when she faces a troubling issue she sits with it before falling asleep, then passes it off to her subconscious mind to solve. It is a rare morning that she wakes without an answer. Today that single pinprick of light grew and blazed and came barreling into her mind like a meteor.
“Well.” Gertrud sits on the bed and crosses her legs. “This is unexpected.”
“It has been my experience that the worst things in life usually are.”
Gertrud grunts, disdainful. “Please. It’s too early for theatrics. Speak plainly. I have a headache.”
“I understand that you are a woman who is usually in control, Frau Adelt.” She stresses the title as a reminder that using it behind this closed door, under these circumstances, is a choice, not an obligation. “But it would be a mistake to assume that is the case with me. I’m not interested in melodrama. Nor do I offer second chances. I am here because I have no other options. We are not friends. We do not engage in witty banter. Tell me what you know or you will not get your name. Is that plain enough for you?”
“Quite. Plain.” Gertrud’s mouth spreads into a wide grin despite the clipped reply.
Emilie expected rage but gets delight instead. What the hell is wrong with this woman?
“Are you sure you don’t want to be friends? I imagine we could get into all sorts of trouble.”
“I have enough trouble, thank you.”
“Alright then,” she says with an exaggerated pout. Gertrud pulls the dog tag out of a small jewelry box on the counter and drops it into Emilie’s palm. “There is an American passenger on board this airship named Edward Douglas. He’s a businessman of some dubious variety. I’d be very interested to know exactly what it is he does. Regardless, I believe that he is on this ship to find the owner of this tag. I doubt very much that his motives are altruistic, and if I had to bet money I’d say they lean toward suspicious.”
“You are sure of this?”
“Four months ago my press card was revoked by the fucking Ministry of Propaganda. Oh, don’t look so shocked. I’m a grown woman and I’ve never met a curse word I didn’t like. Politeness is a lost cause in my profession.” Gertrud returns to her spot on the edge of the bed and tightens the edges of her robe around her bare legs. “Edward Douglas was in the building that day. His office is a floor below, and I did not take it well when they tried to escort me from the building sans press card. That is all beside the point, however.”
“So what is your point, then?” Emilie realizes what a relief it is to speak frankly with another person, and a woman at that. It’s as though a small bubble of tension has burst in her chest and she can breathe a bit easier. Emilie relaxes into the small chair beside the dressing table. There is no need to guard her expressions or her words for the moment.
“Consider it backstory. Important, but generally left out of the narrative.” Gertrud is awake now, albeit reluctantly, and she goes to the sink and splashes cold water on her face. Emilie knows she’s thinking, sorting through what she does and doesn’t want to share. Finally Gertrud grabs a brush from her cosmetics case and begins working it through her erratic curls. “The night we took off, you were asked to summon a woman from the hangar?”
“Yes. Dorothea Erdmann. Colonel Erdmann’s wife.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to say good-bye.”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that the family members of all the other passengers and crew members were made to say their farewells at the Hof Hotel? No one was allowed near the airfield. We were bused there under armed guard. And yet Dorothea Erdmann was a stone’s throw away in the hangar, at her husband’s beck and call.”