The Diaries - 01 by Chuck Driskell Read Free Book Online Page B

You’re the guy I want.”
    Gage’s eyes darted
back and forth, realizing that this insane man wanted a decision immediately.   “How long do I have to decide, and what will
it mean to my career and future if I—”
    The colonel held
up a hand, his jaw set.   “Yes or no,
son.   My number two choice is at Fort Sam
right now, and I got a still-running bird at Pope to take me there.   I don’t have time to dick around.”
    The noise of
squealing subway brakes jolted Gage from his trance.
    He refocused his
eyes, watching the train’s doors open as his mind came back to the
present.   What a day that had been.   He had accepted the offer, of course, changing
his life forever.   He hefted his backpack
from the floor (only about ten pounds, these days) exiting the subway at the Hauptwache stop near the center of Frankfurt, Germany.
    Gage removed his
sunglasses, blinking, checking the headache.   It had passed.   He dropped the
glasses into his pack.
    Upstairs, in the
locker whose combination he had memorized earlier, Gage found the small bag
with the items he needed.   Either Jean,
or someone who worked with him, had placed it there, just as Jean had said they
would.   His watch read nearly 6:30 p.m.—Gage
needed to find a place to wait at least another two hours.   After taking the U- bahn to the Westend station, he found an empty restaurant,
nibbling on a brötchen ,
sipping water, and reading the remainder of the newspaper to occupy his time.

      ***

    The Keisler building was an architectural masterpiece, and
would have been stunning had the landscaping been taken care of after the
Americans vacated it during the late summer.   Situated to the south of the famed I.G. Farben building (famous because General Eisenhower had ordered the cutting-edge
building spared during the Frankfurt bombings, later conveniently claiming it
as his headquarters) the Keisler building, much less
conspicuous, was three stories tall, built of gray stone and granite.   It had an expansive entrance, the portico
rising the entire height of the building.   To the side was a botanical garden, unkempt at the moment.   In warmer months, beautiful foliage spread
around the entire property.   Rare blooming
bushes from Australia.   A row of hedges from
Japan.   American trees.   Dutch flowers.   The building’s land, occupying one half of a
city block, was surrounded by a spiked wrought iron fence, and the two
entrances had modern-looking, bolstered mechanical gates.
    As Gage casually reconnoitered
the building, he saw a familiar sight on the ground near the front gate.   Known as a Stolpersteine (“stumble-stone” in
English) they could be found throughout Frankfurt, and all over Germany.   It was a memorial inserted directly into the
stone sidewalk, an inlaid cross of a different stone color.   In the center of the cross was a heavy brass
plate adorned at the top by a Star of David.  
    Translated, the
stone read the following:

    Heinrich Morgenstern and family
    Taken from here November 11, 1938
    Father, killed, November 11, 1938
    Mother, killed, Buchenwald, November 14,
1938

    Gage read the engraving,
pausing to imagine the horror, the shattering of lives on that November day
when the Morgenstern family had been robbed of their dignity and their lives.   There was no mention of the children, so
hopefully they lived.   But what would
life have been like for them afterward?   Ruined, probably.
    A snippet of pain,
surging forward from the rear of his brain.   Gage’s face twitched.
    Children.
    Crete.
    Damn.
    He steadied
himself with deep breaths, turning away from the stumble-stone.   Not Crete, Gage…not now.   There’s work to do.   The thought passed, shaking him like a
speeding train might have had he been standing inches from a crossing.  
    He credited the
Germans for their exhaustive efforts to recognize the brutalities that had taken
place during the Holocaust.   He thought
about those in the government and