THE STEWARDESS

Gertrud Adelt is obviously wearing nothing under her satin robe when she opens the cabin door. And even this covering has been hastily pulled over her body. It’s tied loosely at her waist, and she clutches the seams together at her throat. Her hair is wild, her eyes squinty, and her husband nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning, Frau Adelt.” Emilie’s voice is warm and amiable and rises at the end of this last syllable in a note of false pleasantry.

Gertrud squeezes her eyes shut, then blinks several times rapidly, trying to force away her fatigue. She looks down the corridor in both directions—it’s filled with passengers and stewards going about their morning business—and then she looks back at Emilie.

“Why are you here?”

Emilie holds her gaze and speaks slowly, as though to a child. Or an idiot. “It’s a quarter past seven. You requested that I stop by at this time to assist you. Have you forgotten?”

Though Emilie does not spend much of her free time around other women, one thing she does appreciate about her gender is that they can communicate almost entirely with their eyes. Gertrud narrows hers in understanding and says, “Yes. I must have. Do come in.”

Once Emilie is in the cabin, Gertrud leans against the door and crosses her arms over her chest. “Why are you really here?”

“I got tired of waiting for you in the dining room.”

“I’m not an early riser.”

“Your husband has already gone through a pot of coffee and a rack of bacon.”

“My husband,” Gertrud says, “agreed to let me sleep in this morning. I find myself rather cross that I did not get to do so.”

“You asked for my help yesterday in the bar. I’m prepared to give it.”

“In exchange for what?”

“The truth. You tell me why you’re looking for the man who owns that dog tag and I will give you his name.”

Emilie stands in the middle of the cabin, hands folded below her waist. It is the posture she always maintains when attending to a passenger. On the surface it appears to be one of subservience, but in reality it is a stance of fortitude. She will do what she has to do.

Gertrud circles her now, like a wolf assessing its prey. She looks the stewardess over with those sharp, watchful eyes, searching for a weakness. A clue. She finally stops in front of Emilie. Taps her slender bare foot on the floor. “Something has changed since yesterday.”

“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.”

“He is a very high ranking military official.”

“Certainly. I can understand why she was allowed to wait in the hangar and why they made an exception for her. I just don’t understand why he insisted on it. Colonel Erdmann did not say a single word to her when she came on board. But he held on to her like a drowning man.” She looks at Emilie now and her expression is pointed. “He held on to her like a man who suspected he would never see his wife again.”

“I did not stay and watch,” Emilie says.

“No. I suppose you wouldn’t have.” Gertrud glances at her bare hand, and Emilie can see that she is eager to ask questions of a more personal nature. “I’d like to know what capacity he is serving on this voyage. He makes frequent trips to the control car but he’s not in uniform. Sometimes he eats with the passengers and other times he’s absent—I’m guessing he dines with the crew for those meals. What is he doing here, Emilie?”

“What does this have to do with Edward Douglas?”

“I suspect this has everything to do with him. I suspect Colonel Erdmann is on board this ship to stop whatever it is the American has planned.”