Amerika (31 page)

‘You’re a better man than I am,’ I said. ‘I would have sent both of those bums to the moon for talking to me like that.’

‘When hootch does the talking, I don’t listen. And those two boys were talking up a storm.’

‘Even so…’

Orlando’s mitt landed on my shoulder. ‘Brother Sam, I appreciate how you feel, but you don’t live inside this skin like I do, and I manage all right with the Lord’s help.’

He spun me around like a top. ‘Let’s go be heroes.’

‘Welcome to the circus,’ Ziggy said breathlessly as he opened the door to Ava’s room.

As befitting her star status, she had a luxury suite complete with a spacious sitting room, where she currently sat across from a short, fat man in  his  60s  wearing  a  black  dress  and  a  white  towel  draped  over  his shoulders. He had a look in his eyes of complete and absolute terror.

‘Ready for this, professor?’ Ava said.

He nodded without saying a word. Ava reached into a hatbox and pulled out a mannequin head upon which rested a grey wig done up in a matronly bob. She brushed it up a bit and then held it in both hands like a living creature.

‘Head down,’ she said.

He bent over and she deftly flipped it onto his balding head. A few tugs here and there, and the deed was done. When he raised his head, I saw an old woman.

‘Now comes the fun part.’

Ava rummaged around in a wooden case beside her, its contents filled with tubes, cylinders, pencils and combs.

‘Nice set up you’ve got,’ I said.

‘Wally Westmore’s folks loaned it to me.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘The king of Hollywood’s makeup world, that’s who – Professor Friedman, meet Sam Carter and Orlando Diaz. They’re here to help us.’

‘I am pleased to meet you both. I hope you succeed.’ His voice was soft and high-pitched, which was good, considering he was looking more and more like a woman with every brushstroke and pencil line Ava applied to his pudgy face.

‘You’re good at this,’ I said.

‘Lots of practice - hold still, Professor, I need to line your eyes with this red stuff. You’ve been crying, don’t forget.’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Quick, what’s your husband’s name?’

‘Alfred Jäger.’

‘And?’

‘And he is vice-consul at the Compliance office in Denver, Colorado. He had a heart attack and is too ill to move. The doctors are afraid he might die. I am traveling to be by his bedside.’

She sat back. ‘Excellent. I believed you. Almost’

‘What did I do wrong?’

‘You’re words were okay, but...’ She punched her fist into her palm.

‘You need more oomph in your delivery.’

‘What is meant by ‘oomph.’?’

‘This…’ She leaned forward, eyes narrowed, fist stabbing the air for emphasis. ‘You’re going to be with Alfred come hell or high water because he’s your husband, because he’s the father of your four beautiful children, and because you will be good God-damned if anybody or ANYTHING is going to stand between you and the man you love, got that?’

Friedman watched like a man hypnotized; his chest rose and his fat- waddled chin jutted out and his tear-reddened eyes blazed. ‘
Ja
, I understand.
Vielen Danke
. This I can do.’

Orlando cleared his throat. ‘I need your baggage stubs, sir.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Friedman motioned to Ziggy, who fetched his suit coat. The professor dug around for a moment before pulling out two tags and handed them over. ‘Be careful. The trunks are extremely heavy.’

Orlando grinned. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ Then his face grew somber.

‘They’re okay to move aren’t they? I mean, in case they get dropped - not that I would, of course - but I don’t want to break anything.’

‘Not to worry.’

‘What’s inside?’ I said.

Friedman shrugged his shoulders. ‘I cannot tell you. That way, in case we are stopped and interrogated, you will be unable to divulge that information.’

‘What about you?’

His matronly face hardened slightly. ‘I have taken provisions to make sure that will never happen.’

I left it at that, and concerned myself with making sure Orlando and I were singing from the same choir book as far as getting this motley crew on board the clipper. The plan was to have Orlando head out to the plane early to load the professor’s baggage. As a Pan Am crew member, he could do that without triggering any questions from the Lufthansa harpies.

‘Where you going to stow it?’ I said.

‘Aft cargo hold, upper deck.’

‘Will it fit?’

‘I’ll make it fit.’

‘Make sure Fatt gets the additional weight for his COG calculations. Those things won’t show on the manifest. And if he doesn’t figure them in, then...’

He saluted. ‘May I remind you that this is not my first day working the flight line?’

With that, he was gone.

Our side of the equation was a little more complicated.

‘Where’s the professor’s ticket?’ I said.

Ziggy pulled it out of an envelope and handed it over. Gone was the familiar blue Pan American Airways logo and flight information. In its place was  a  Lufthansa  version  printed  in  black  and  red,  with  their  damned swastika taking up more space than necessary. This particular ticket was different than the other ones I’d seen, sporting a red band down the right hand side, signifying Frau Hilda Jäger was a high-priority passenger due all the rights and privileges contained therein, including preferential seating and additional baggage allowance.

‘They did a good job on this,’ I said.

Ziggy beamed. ‘Those Couba Island counterfeiters could work in Hollywood any day. Take a look at what else they dreamed up.’

Not only had General Patton’s gang of artists cobbled up the fake Lufthansa priority airline ticket, they had also created a ‘letter of passage’ from Heinrich Himmler’s SS office that stated in almost hysterical terms that Frau Jäger was to be accorded every courtesy, given no restrictions, and afforded immediate passage through any and all ports of embarkation, without concern as to the inconvenience of others - so sayeth
Reichsfūhrer
SS Heinrich Himmler himself, with all the official -looking stamps and seals to prove it.

Ziggy tapped the letter. ‘This could get him into Hitler’s bedroom, I bet.’

‘I prefer America,’ Professor Friedman said quietly.

‘Speaking of which,’ I said. ‘Let’s go through the drill again.’

We spent the next few minutes ticking off what I hoped would be the ordered, uneventful steps of making our way from the Aviz hotel to the clipper. As we went through the procedure, Ava stored her makeup back into the case, but not without pausing to carefully muss up her hair a bit and opening a button on her tight-fitting blouse.

When I finished, she said, ‘How do I look?’

‘Like you’ve been through the wringer.’

‘Good,’ she said.

‘And how do I look?’ Friedman said.

‘The same. Only a bigger wringer.’

His laugh was dry, quick and nervous. ‘I’ve never done anything like this in my life.’

‘Then we’re even,’ I said, and stood and offered him my arm
. ‘Frau Jäger?’
May I escort you to the plane?’

She took my arm. ‘Thank you, yes.’

Ava said, ‘Curtain up.’

Even at this late hour people still jammed the hotel lobby, some talking, others laughing, and mixed with it the contagious beat of a swing orchestra in a faraway ballroom playing an American tune whose name I couldn’t place to save my life. All of which made it easier for
Frau
Jäger and me to make our way to a relatively quiet corner, find two empty seats and wait for Ava’s ‘big entrance.’

Moments later she swept into the room, trailed by a bug-eyed Ziggy who bobbed and bounced like a tin can tied to a ‘Just Married’ car. But no happy bride and groom in sight, just one pissed-off actress about to explode.

‘No, no, no, no NO!’ she shrieked at Ziggy, and the lobby fell silent  except for the faraway orchestra. ‘I don’t care who signed the contract. All I care about is getting the hell out of this dump and going home.’

She grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up onto his heels. ‘And I mean now!’

‘A deal’s a deal, sweetheart.’

‘Don’t you sweetheart me, you little weasel.’

She brushed a stray wisp of hair out of her face and swayed slightly as if she had been drinking.

‘They want good little Ava James to star in their shitty little movie? Fine, they can start by kissing my little…’

Ziggy’s hand clamped over her mouth and his eyes popped with terror at coping with this unexpected Medusa, her snake hair squirming everywhere and angry flashing eyes sending out death rays left and right.

I patted
Frau
Jäger’s shoulder. ‘You know what to do.’

He nodded and stood up and waited while I made my way through the silent crowd that had gathered around Ava like she was a traffic accident. With my height, she spotted me instantly and wailed, ‘Sam, darling, it’s you! Oh, please, please, please take me away to your shiny bright plane right this instant!’

She swept forward, the crowd parted and she fell into my arms in a Hollywood swoon.

‘What happened?’ I said to Ziggy.

He played his part to perfection. ‘They welshed on the movie deal. Couldn’t get the numbers to work. She blew up. Had one too many. Party’s over. Now she wants to go home.’ He shrugged hopelessly. ‘Can we, captain?’

“Certainly.” I made as if to ponder how to do it, and then said, ‘I’m returning to the plane with another passenger who needs assistance. I’d be happy to help you as well.’

Ziggy’s face melted with relief. Ava came out of her swoon and said drunkenly, ‘My big brave man promises he’ll let me fly his shiny little plane all around the sky?’

I extricated myself and smoothed my uniform jacket. ‘We’ll see what can be arranged, Miss James.’

She grabbed me with one arm and swung her other one at Ziggy like a major general. ‘Check us out of here, you little twerp. And when we get back to Hollywood you want to know something?’

‘I know, I’m fired.’

‘No, you’re FIRED!’

I said, ‘See you at the taxicab stand?’

Ziggy just nodded, but for the briefest of instants, his eyes flashed and his face paled, as if he’d suddenly thought of something. But then he turned resolutely to the reception desk to play his part in the drama that had caused the lobby to fall silent and now waited see what would happen next.

I  steered  Ava  over  to  Frau  Jäger  who  stood  there,  demur  and sorrowful, her sheer black veil partially covering her face and blurring her features.  As  we  approached,  the  crowd  murmured  back  to  life  again, buzzing about the bravura performance they’d just witnessed. How many understood English didn’t matter. The way Ava acted made the place to buzz with excited gossip.

We made our way out through the polished brass doors that opened onto
Rua Duque de Palmela
. We stood there on the sidewalk, letting the rush and roar of Lisbon at night wash over us in a hot haze. In contrast to the rest of Europe being darkened by war, Lisbon blazed with the lights of a nation at peace. Not a thing to worry about. All was well - and to this day I don’t  know  why  that  particular  thought  made  me  suddenly  grab  both women and steer them back inside the hotel, where we ran into Ziggy coming the other way.

His face stayed neutral, but his eyes didn’t. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Change of plans.’

‘But we’ve got to get to the plane.’

‘Not this way. I smell trouble.’

Ziggy started to say something but Ava said quietly, ‘Let’s play follow the leader, shall we?’

I quickly led our parade back through the lobby, through the crowd and down a side corridor until I found an exit stairwell. There had to be more than one way to get out of this damned place and I was determined to find it. One flight down, and the clattering of our shoes on steel stairs ended when we arrived at a door that led to a side alley. Once outside, we hurried down  the  narrow,  trash-can  filled  passage  to  a  street  running  directly parallel to Rua Duque de Palmela.

‘We need to gain some altitude,’ I said.