Flight from Berlin by David John Read Free Book Online

I?’ he said, pointing at Denham’s matches on the bar and producing a very fine cigarette case. It was a beautiful object, Denham noticed, fashioned of engraved silver and inscribed with the initials KR .
    ‘Let me guess,’ Denham said as Friedl lit up. ‘The film is really about showcasing the might of the new Germany to the world? No one knows that better than the reporters. Everything serves politics now, including the Hindenburg. ’
    Friedl pondered this as he inhaled. ‘No, not that even,’ he said. ‘It’s about perfection, physical perfection. The whole film is about the power and beauty of the body . . .’
    That’s probably the biggest Nazi obsession of all, Denham thought.
    Later, on the way back to his room, he wondered about the Nazis’ attitude towards homosexuals. A boy caught with a boy faced conviction under Paragraph 175 and a long stretch in a camp, where the ‘175ers’ got a worse time than the Jews. Yet no other regime in history had done more to throw boys together with boys, not to mention kitting them out in a fetish of straps, belts, and boots.
    Other things about that lad rang warning bells, too, all of them faint except for one: the initials on that silver cigarette case meant that either his name wasn’t Friedl Christian, or it wasn’t his. And if it wasn’t his, he’d probably stolen it.
    The Alpine air had made Denham drowsy. He lay down on his side in the same spot as before and was gazing again at the photograph next to his bed when he realised that his reflection was no longer in its frame.
    He sat up, all his suspicions coming alive.
    Had it been moved?
    Warily he looked around the room, at his case, his typewriter.
    Maybe he was being paranoid.

Chapter Five
    T he summons was swift in coming. At ten-thirty Eleanor was still slumbering when Olive shook her. ‘Hey,’ she squeaked, sounding for all the world like Betty Boop. ‘Mr Brundage wants to see you in the C deck coffee room.’
    She sat up slowly and felt her temples with her fingers. ‘Jesus.’ Her eyes felt too small for their sockets, and there was a bilious, grapey concentration coating her tongue.
    Show them what you’re made of, sister, she told herself. ‘Kid, pass me those Alka-Seltzers next to the washbasin, would you?’
    Half an hour later she entered the coffee room, fresh, made up, and wearing her team uniform for the first time. Avery Brundage was sitting behind a table with three other committee members she didn’t recognise. But at least Hacker wasn’t there to gloat.
    The door opened again, and Mrs Hacker plodded in and took a seat.
    ‘Good morning,’ Eleanor said with a bright smile. ‘What’s this about?’
    ‘I think you know what this is about, Mrs Emerson,’ Brundage said, tapping his thumb with a pencil. They each had a copy of the AOC handbook in front of them. ‘Mrs Hacker discovered you drunk and abusive at two o’clock this morning.’
    ‘That’s hardly true,’ said Eleanor. ‘It was one-thirty for a start.’ She noticed one of the committee members suppressing a smile, but Brundage was not amused.
    ‘Don’t screw with us, young lady. I made the rules perfectly clear. If you set yourself above everyone else you will disrupt the team’s morale and discipline, and I will not stand for that.’ His voice rose to a shout. It was a shock, like a clap of thunder on a fine day. ‘I spent two years fighting old man Taylor. Tell me, am I fighting you, too? Because you will not win .’ His eyes were blazing. For several seconds he glared at her. Then, in a calmer voice, he said, ‘I should tell you that I am minded to drop you from the team. However . . . my colleagues, in their wisdom, think it fair to give you one more chance.’
    Eleanor glanced at the other men, grateful to know she had allies who had restrained him.
    ‘You will not be seen on the first-class deck again. Do you understand me?’ He slammed his fist on the table. ‘One last chance. Now get out and