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Important notice!

Summary

First Information

Thruxton Train

Shores, Borders, and Limits

A kind of Parsifal

Summa cum laude?

French Connection

Things that matter

Back to the Roots?

Which Status Quo?

Maledetto Tedesco!

Undefined Identity

The Man from the Land of Smiles (or somewhere next to it)

Qualifying

Remote controlled

Gambit declined!

Castling Queen’s Side

Tragedy and Farce

Nothing left to lose

What’s wrong, Doc?

Slipstream of History

Sisters in Arms

Mystery Circumstances

Minds of Thunder

Currently most popular ...

Sunday roses ...

P.S

D. Warf

Puzzling Sophie

Novel

(Impressum) – Contact Information

Lothar Hartung, Kantsraße 12, 33803 Steinhagen, Germany

Summary

Southern England, 1999: Arthur Lombard, the owner of a manufactory for classic car restorations, is trapped in his fantasies about his past: a lost friendship and an unrequited love for a woman who disappeared as suddenly as she had burst into his life.

Salinas, California: US Air Force pilot Captain Sarah Rubenstein is excited about Operation Excalibur! At 25, she has no experience of living a normal life. Accustomed to being treated like a princess, she has graduated from every school for gifted students and highly motivated spies. Hungry for all kinds of adventure, she is about to experience a high point: her first mission, in Europe, and all alone!

Getting welcomed in New Popplebush as someone else, she suspects her operation is nothing but a test, and this small village is a spy training camp. She accepts the role of a German race driver, who has her next race in Germany at the infamous Nürburgring. She even becomes friends with all those crazy but obscure folks, but not knowing her actual task, as she meets a woman her age who looks just like her!

The »Village of the Crazy« was once founded by a British aeronautical engineer and ex-fighters of the French Resistance. The aging surviving members look for successors to protect a meaningless commune against the rest of the world.

Important notice!

All characters and actions in this novel are fictitious; similarities with real people are unintentional.

First Information

How much do scientists know? What do theologians believe? Why do philosophers think they know? It should never be necessary for Arthur to deal with such questions because his people always try to protect him from anything that could be dangerous ... as long as they can see the problem, or at least imagine it. But for him, being special does not automatically mean having anything in common with this crew of specialists. This village of madmen lives in a special kind of past, and it seems to be a good life ... selling nostalgic dreams to wealthy customers. But the heroines and heroes of this story also suffer from the past, each from their own, and Arthur has his share, tormented by a blind spot in his memory.

Thruxton Train

»Steve-Steeve-Steeeve! ... McQueen-McQueen!« Arthur loved the birds’ twittering in the old maple tree near his bedroom. Since childhood, he was fascinated by their songs ... »McQueen!« ... and he was used to turning their chirping into words ... »Not here, not heere!« ... This sometimes also worked with the voices of other animals, but nothing fired his crazy imagination more than a nightingale ... »Lousy-lousy-lousy cat-cat-cat-cat-cat!« ... Childhood ... That had been long ago and should be a brief memory, watching an ageing face later in the bathroom mirror. He looked again at the alarm clock on the bedside table, grabbed his beret, and stepped out onto the small balcony to enjoy the rising sun over New Popplebush. The view from this place was overwhelming, and he was sure it was the best thing he could expect that day, while »Caruso« sang his mocking song on »Steve McQueen«, the cat.

He put his hands on the balcony ledge, looking down at the roadster in British Racing Green, which seemed brand new from the spoked wheels to the mounted hardtop. Although she was new in some parts, this lady was as old as Arthur. That didn't just apply to this model but to this very car. And it wasn't only age that united them: Just as this sports car hadn’t left the factory forty-five years ago as the »Slimwall Special«, Arthur hadn’t been born as the »Arthur Lombard« either ... And they didn't come from here. »Not from here« means neither from the county of Hampshire nor from any venerable British manufacturing sites such as Bristol, Birmingham, Cambridge, Gaydon, Hethel, Perranporth, Slough, or Whitley, and there are still a few towns and villages missing from this alphabetical list ... But to anticipate that, they weren't from there either; they weren't from Britain at all, ... although one of them looked like that. Perhaps the main difference was that the Special was a few weeks younger, and they both were from different foreign countries, which, from Arthur's perspective, could also be a commonality in terms of GB. But he viewed this case philosophically: it was, above all, a result of their different histories. Of course, he couldn't have the same life story with a car, if only because they hadn't even grown up together. But the Special was a myth, an adventure story told and written by enthusiasts worldwide, all treasure hunters inspired by the spirit of a legendary sports car without knowing where it was rusting away. Some experts may not even know if there had ever been a Slimwall Special, but they were all involved in this legend because, without them, there would be no legend! The story of Arthur’s life was not of any impressive significance. It was banal and could be told in less than three minutes ... Before turning back into the house, he lifted his beret towards the green lady: »Chapeau, Madame, you know how to make history!«... Yes, he did things like that sometimes, and he imagined Dorothy and Big John sitting »im Gasthaus an der Theke« (»Not: Gasthaus but a bar! With love, Dorothy!«) and say, »He talks more often to himself than to others!« - »Well, we live in a strange village at a strange time, and he seems to be a strange foreigner sometimes!« Then they say, »Cheerio!«... Dorothy drinks whisky, and John tea. The scene played out in Arthur's imagination, and in the evening ... the best time for conversations like this.

He should rather not be late! His backpack lay on the other side of the double bed. There was also his suit, or to put it correctly, a roll of wrapping paper. Thelma had taught him how to transport a complete suit with »Hemd und Krawatte« in a tight car and with less storage space. This lesson had been amusing for everyone ... He had been nineteen and a little younger than her... How many years? He'd never asked her ... And no one had been missing from her birthday party. The following year, they got married ... Thelma and Andrew had gotten married! And after the birth of little Sophie, everyone had been happy for her too ... As long as anyone could have been happy in such a terrible year. Arthur wiped his eyes and decided to take a few eyedrops for his hay fever before leaving the house. But before entering the bedroom again, he noticed Steve McQueen as he made his way between the maple tree and the neighbor's house, pretending to go home. But the next thing Arthur expected of him was to sit on the balcony and request his breakfast ... It was at least his second breakfast, and no one knew where else this drifter was eating his way through. He always got his first breakfast from Dorothy; she never left the house without feeding her cat. And, of course, his name wasn't »Steve McQueen«, and certainly not McQueen! If he ever had a last name, it was »Willow«, and he was called »Alister«. Okay, this was not correct: He probably knew his name, but he was not used to listening to any call. Arthur wondered whether to write »Alister« or »Allister«, and »Alistair« was not an option because this spelling was unknown to Arthur. The index on Dorothy's door had no second name, and Arthur did not remember her mentioning her pet in any letter. At that moment, Arthur couldn't help but laugh at his thoughts ... Because of the »l« or »ll«, of course, not because of its arbitrary nomenclature. That was his way of dealing with his environment, and it didn't matter if there was another name before. This conveyed a familiar togetherness instead of being alone most of the time.

As he opened the bedroom door again to put the food bowl outside, the situation had changed drastically: Nightingale Caruso had ceased to provide false information about the cat and left the tree. Only the scolding voice of »Klaus«, the blackbird whose song had so far been inferior to the tremendous operatic aria, could be heard. But he didn't sing. His angry twittering announced the border crosser who had just elegantly walked the balcony ledge and now left the catwalk with an awkward jump, making a sound that was reminiscent of a toy doll with a defective »mama voice«.

The cat was enjoying his meal, and Arthur had to hurry. Breakfast was planned at Dorothy's pub, as was customary in such cases. By the way, there was also a briefing because she always had new information. Later, there was no opportunity to do so as long as Arthur did not call from a phone booth on the street because he refused to use cell phones: »die Scheißdinger« did not function most of the time. Entering the bathroom, he remembered his thoughts about his life: that it took less than three minutes to tell his story. As if to demonstrate, he went back to the stereo in his living room before taking a shower. The song told the story of a frog that became king (*I Am I Said, Neil Diamond, 1971), and above the amplifier on top of the same bookshelf sat a German garden gnome ... a gift from Thelma ...: »Put it on your balcony, and you will be protected from any enemy who wants to conquer your bedroom from the outside!«, she had been joking ... But he would rather not want to scare off cats or birds...

On the way down, Arthur stopped and caressed the photo on the wall of the hallway with his fingers before leaving the house ... »Okay, it was four minutes, but why ... »not even the chair«? If I'm lost and no one hears me ... I would never expect that from a chair! I have lived on this island for more than 25 years, studying its culture, and this »Ami« sings about chairs out of loneliness... It's better to talk to the walls! ... Oh, I see ... OK...?!« ... The American singer was a good teacher, and Arthur hadn't spoken this time anyway.

Now he was struggling to enter the car. Even with less than 175 cm, it was difficult to get into a roadster having an extra hardtop the car wasn't made for ... and he »kletterte hinter das Volant«, doing so with feet, hands, and words: »This is a glorious success for French aeronautical engineers in the development of automobiles: you have a «Volant», Madame! Volant? Madame? He had no idea why he was flattering a car with a scrap of French words. Perhaps he felt like dating a strange and difficult but lovable person, and he was afraid of losing her from the beginning.

He reached for the rearview mirror, adjusted his beret, adjusted the mirror, pulled the choke, and pressed the red button. The sluggish noise was normal for the required effort: 3000 cc, long stroke, a typical English ... No, it wasn't! His thoughts were disturbed by the explosive argument of a quartet of protagonists, each of whom knew his lines but felt harassed by the others. This stuttering inferno of vocal artists went up to 1800 revolutions per minute, before it was interrupted by the choirmaster, who asked for »Piano, per favore!« by pushing the choke back a little, but at the same time having to react with the accelerator pedal to prevent the grumpy group from going completely silent now. The nagging of voices was then increased to around 1200 revolutions per minute and lowered again to nearly zero. This happened several times, and after a while, the choir agreed on a harmonic ignition sequence, fortunately, the one Arthur had hoped for. Soon, an ignition sequence was no longer perceptible: the club was singing with one voice! Arthur loved these encounters with headstrong characters, where he had to be diplomatic if he wanted to stay with them. With humans, it was too complicated: there was no point in pulling a choke or pressing a button.

No, no sane, or rather, no uninfected person would have seen this process in the same way: all this barking, roaring, and stench was similar to Dante's Inferno, insane and destructive. That wasn't normal; it was crazy! But this was New Popplebush, the Maranello of the north in the south of England. In this place, ordinary people who knew how civilization should work were only welcome if they kept their mouths shut. And this was also civilization and culture ... or at least a kind of it. Perhaps Arthur was mentally handicapped, and perhaps he was depressed, but not currently: he pulled the choke again a little so as not to stall the engine, which was still cold, and the car left the cottage in the direction of Dorothy's pub. A crowd of children had gathered in front of his house. Some of them were still chewing, others had their sandwiches in their hands, and all were waving to the lady in green and Arthur's waving hand out of the window, and they were cheering with joy as the hand became a fist and thrust forward, accompanied by the short sprint of the roadster and the sound of an alto saxophone without revving too high for a cold long-stroke vintage motor.#

At irregular intervals, small groups of vintage cars came up Green Hill Road and drove towards the pub, changing direction onto northern Salisbury Road. »This village seems to live on little green cars; I can't see any others!« - »That's because of this special morning. By the time the Thruxton train has passed, there will be others too, but not many. But please don't call them small; call them low or flat ... you can't go wrong with that!« The last word had to be shouted out loud because a 1929 Bentley Speed-Six shifted down two gears with thunderous double-declutching, followed by a tuned MG Midget that made similar noises. Gordon understood Dorothy's reasoning, even though no Bentley was flat or low. She looked at her watch. Gordon wanted to say something: »What does that mean: Thruxton ...?« - »The McKenzie Family! They always come at the end to have their show!« A »John Wyer-Mirage« approached together with a »Lightweight Jaguar-E« in an outfit similar to the »Nöcker/Lindner 1964«, and a brand-new Lotus Elise in formation to demonstrate a racing scene. As they passed by Big John, he only waved and smiled. With the Mirage in the lead, the Elise tried to overtake the E, which fended off every attack by changing her position and always skidding a little. The characteristic front of the Elise had been modified with decals: an open mouth and bared teeth so that it looked like Mick Jagger was biting the tail of the E. As the Mirage slowed down, the Elise overtook the E, and as both tried to overtake the leader, they were suddenly locked, and a collision ensued that destroyed 35 years of motorsport. But there was no crashing sound, no unknown flying objects splintered off from well-known car parts! Even the spectators, who had not heard or seen any details because they had covered their ears and eyes, now used their hands to applaud. After a short stop to wave out the windows, the three cars sprinted further, heading for the pub, with Dorothy standing directly under the entrance sign, her arm stretched out to the side while her index finger pointed the way. With thunder and squealing tires, the McKenzies passed Dorothy and her beer garden, followed by applause for Dorothy, while John removed the barrier tape from the side of the road. On the fringes of the scene, there was a discussion between a passing lady and a child: «Mon Dieu, qu´est-ce que c´est?» – «C´est ca! Voilà labas, Madame!» The boy pointed to the large white sign with letters that looked like they had been cut out of the Union Jack: »THE POWER SLIDE INN«.

Dorothy was hailed as a heroine as she re-entered the dining room, and with her friendly manner, she asked the staff to return to business as usual. »Uh ...!« Gordon Marsh tried it once more and was interrupted once more by the landlady: »Of course, everything is settled! First, I have the pleasure to present you with the welcome letter from the Orchid Classics manufactory. Your work begins today with your journey. During this time, our baby must be cared for as much as possible. Welcome to the Orchids!« - »Thank you very much!« Gordon took the paper with a timid reaction: »The T...« – »Oh yes: your contract as the new Technical Director. I can't hand it over to you presently because the boss wants to do this himself after your return.« Miss Willow accompanied her words by pretending a grave look and half turning from left to right, like a shamed little girl. »Thank you, Madam!« Gordon feigned a kiss on the hand and risked a discussion: »Young man! I'm not the Queen!« ... - »Presently it is you!«#

Presently, they were sitting beside the entrance; the door stood wide open, and Gordon could look out to the beer garden. Despite the warm spring morning, she had preferred to set the table in the house because after breakfast, many documents were waiting on the next table. She couldn't risk the wind or any other circumstance, for instance, Bentley Speed-Six and McKenzie. The guests would have their breakfast in the parc fermé of the circuit, served by a catering company from Popplebush. It was the first time Dorothy had been absent, and she hoped that Becky and Bill wouldn't have any problems with their »Orchid Classics Spring Event«. Most customers believed that Bill was the boss anyway. He was always there when anyone needed something. In her house, Dorothy expected her first customers from 8,30 a.m., as long as there were no house guests, and these people were playing with their toys at Thruxton Circuit today. Later in the evening, they were supposed to come back for a big dinner. She just hoped to have »her boys« as fast as possible on the M3 (motorway, not BMW, boo!) on their way to the coast... »Please, tell me, Doctor Willow ...« - »Dorothy, please! You are part of the family now!« Thank you, Ma'am, please tell me, Dorothy ...« He was interrupted again: »Yes, there is something to discuss!« Dorothy wondered where to begin. There was some confusion about Arthur's way of dealing with things ... No, because of Arthur's way of dealing with everything! So, she had to be careful: »You should know: Your partner is a nice guy, but he can hide it sometimes, even though he never gets angry. He can work very logically, but occasionally, you will be surprised by his logic. He ...« - »He's a German!« Gordon looked as if he had quoted a banal sentence from a boring book. Dorothy marveled, »Uh ... what ... Why ...?« – »Maybe his mouth position ... or his body language« ... Dorothy had to turn in her chair to look in the same direction as he did: there was Arthur! ... He stood next to the green baby, looking like a Frenchman with that beret on his head, rolling a cigarette while holding the tobacco pouch to his belly. She was appalled by Gordon's analysis: »Is there a problem?« ... - »Oh, no ... I'm not a fascist!« ... Not a fascist!? What the hell was Gordon telling her again? Dorothy had seen German fascists drinking and singing together with British fascists ... »What do you mean by fascist?« – »To denigrate others because they are different in skin color, gender, origin, or any natural peculiarities: that is fascism for me ... It's not just the imagination of a Nazi uniform!« Dorothy felt relieved. Still, the thoughts in her head were spinning. And it wasn't over for her: »He's lived here for at least 25 years and ...« - »I don't think he thinks or dreams in English!« Gordon's arguments had gotten Dorothy into trouble. How is she supposed to cope with a more than risky operation with all the chaos from the start? She felt like a marathon runner who had a crisis halfway through.

And so, it went on: »Good morning!« Arthur always said, »Good morning, good evening, or good night!«, without adding anyone's name to avoid any ingratiation. In this way, he tried not to make a fool of himself and risked being called arrogant instead. But he didn't mind others saying, »Good morning, Arthur!« because he knew that people don't have the same problems by doing the same things ... »Good morning, Arthur!«, she said, and thought, »You are an asshole! Because of your crazy posturing, I got in the devil's kitchen!« ... Now she was Doctor Willow again: »May I introduce: Gordon Marsh, our technical director in the future, and this is ... Arthur!« Arthur's face changed color for a brief moment, and he thought, »Shit ... I forgot about this guy!« ... but then he nodded in the direction of Dorothy's questioning face before holding out his hand. Gordon, still in trouble because of the chaos he had caused by talking about Germans and fascists on one hand but fascinated by Arthur's beret masquerade on the other, took that hand with the words «Enchanté!» Arthur reacted, amused: «ENCHANTÉ!» And the words in his head were, »Das ist wirklich nett und lustig!«#

For a short time, Dorothy was the happy lady of the house and asked her guests to sit down and have breakfast. Soon they were eating and joking, »Your bold cat is eating his way through my home!« - »And you're eating your way through my house! For this time, we're even!« - »What does that mean?« Next time, we will both join your breakfast at your house!« - »No chance! The cat is not used to sharing his food bowl! ... What about the show this morning? Have the McKenzies come again?« Gordon mentioned, »Dorothy’s show with the Ami sled was fun! Did you rehearse that?« Dorothy and Arthur: »??« Gordon: »By the way, what does that mean, Thruxton Trai...?« – »AMI-SLEDGE! What does »Ami sled« mean?« A buzz exploded! Arthur, Dorothy, and their two young employees, who had also joined the table, talked indignantly. »But the GT-40!« Gordon's argument went down. But after some time, when the situation had calmed down, Arthur gave him an answer to his question, if it was a question at all: »Young man, if you ever heard of Eric Broadley, Frank Costin, Mike Costin, Colin Chapman, Keith Duckworth, Harry Weslake, or John Wyer, ... or the towns of Hethel, Northampton, Rye, Slough: ... Together with other Brits and British towns and villages, they stand for the success of Detroit-Dearborn!« Tiffy laughed: »You could just as easily say that the Triumph factories are in Nuremberg!« – ... »Or: The queen's house is in German hands!«, Eric added. While everyone waited for the bird to be shot, John entered the pub. He put his hand on Eric's shoulder to stop him from getting up and bringing John's tea (everyone else was drinking coffee!), so as not to disturb this moment. He sat quietly down and smiled at what was to come, having heard Dorothy's reaction to Eric's comparison with House Windsor: »... Yes! The Queen's Palace and the Orchid Classics!«

From one moment to the next, the room was silent. Horrified by her words, Dorothy tried to look around as discreetly as possible, even though she didn’t know how that was supposed to work sitting in a small group. Tiffy had stalled her engine while chewing, her face 140 degrees before top dead center in the compression cycle, her chin slightly to the right side. Gordon tried to shrink to the size of a cat, taking his paw off the table. Eric preferred Dorothy's strategy: first, he caught her gaze, and then they both looked in the direction of John, who was still smiling. Dorothy tried to change the subject, which was only possible in her head, and wondered, »Is this a slowed responsiveness, or is he becoming dull ... Is he getting old?« Maybe she was trying to avoid becoming another pet sitting at the table by thinking about something else. But John rejoiced and smiled. He smiled at Arthur, and Arthur stood up! He took some parsley from the plate with two remaining fried eggs, held the greens between his nose and upper lip, and shouted, »Wir werden ihre Städte ausradieren!« ... In the guest room of a normal pub, only one table was occupied by six people, but the hall was raging! Everyone felt relieved and continued to joke. Only Big John's face had changed: he had a thoughtful look. Although something had happened that he had hoped for, the result gave rise to a frightening suspicion. The pub’s door was wide open, and anything to be heard outside could be seriously misunderstood. Even though he had always said that he didn't care what people thought of him, that was a limit because Arthur's speech and the reaction of the others had been so similar to reality. But soon John had to laugh aloud again as he listened to Arthur: »Did you know which car I had first? ... A Triumph SPITFIRE!«.

Arthur gave a light pat on the back to the laughing Gordon, who had gotten to normal size again with both hands on the table: »Welcome to the Club!« A stone fell from Dorothy's heart. And that was mainly because John was smiling again. She had understood him well! In her typical friendly way, she nodded to Tiffy and Eric, and they got up and hurried to the kitchen. After returning, they served a mixture of champagne and orange juice. There was no pure champagne because everyone had to keep a clear head as long as this was possible, above all, in the case of Arthur. And there was no pure orange juice for John because there was a club entry to celebrate. The name of this club was »New Popplebush«, and the members were the inhabitants of this village, her heart beating at the Power Slide Inn at the northeast point of a small community, but the center of the world!

John stood at the bar, and the others joined him, raising their glasses to the pictures on the wall behind the trophy cup of fresh flowers on the small table below the photo of Andrew Moore. It showed this local hero under a winner's wreath with this trophy in his hand. Next to this picture was a photograph of Thelma with little Sophie somewhere in the South of the village. Above was a large photo of Albert Lombard, the founder of the manufactory, standing in front of an unknown jet at an unknown air base, accompanied by other engineers. Perhaps some experts would recognize a similarity to the fastest American spy plane of its time in this photo, and perhaps in the presence of British witnesses, these experts would confess to not knowing anything about planes at all. Apart from the winner's cup, which had an index but stood too far behind the bar, and the photo of Andrew, provided with a diagonal mourning ribbon, there were no other descriptions.

There was a whispered discussion between John, who shrugged; Arthur, who nodded; and Dorothy, who rolled her eyes. Then she turned to Gordon, raised her glass again, and said, »Welcome to New Popplebush!«, which was repeated by the others. Gordon was introduced to John, the police officer; Tiffy, his niece and godchild, who was studying medicine; and Eric, Arthur's godchild and computer science student. Dorothy complained that she didn't have godchildren of this generation because she hadn't lived in that village at the right time, and Arthur joked that she had been too young for these godchildren either. Then, he pulled a small bottle out of his jeans pocket, took off his glasses, and dripped a few drops into his eyes. The overflowing liquid ran down his face like tears. »Hay fever!«, he informed Gordon. He didn't need to explain it to the others, although he would have liked to.

Dorothy made an elegant turn with two steps and pointed to her watch. The godchildren started to clean up the breakfast table, and John sat down on his stool in front of the bar, drank his cup of tea, and had a good view out the door of the pub. The other three sat down at the table, which was covered with a row of papers, and Doctor Willow began the instruction: »Operation Spinning Wheel begins with the car’s departure from New Popplebush and ends with the change of ownership. This topic is described in a separate paragraph. Mr. Arthur Lombard is solely responsible partner of the Orchid Classics Manufactory in logistical, financial, or technical cases. The technical advisor is Mr. Gordon Marsh.« Gordon was handed a ring binder: »Here you will find everything you need to take care of our baby.« Gordon replied, »Okay, then I can advise her how to take care of herself ... I'm not competent!« Dorothy got a crisis: »That's the legal way to have someone who is experienced in this particular case; that's for your protection!« ... Arthur added, »Don't worry, I'll never come into your enclosure until I have to! It's just a playground for lawyers!« – »A playground for lawyers? I'll tell you about playgrounds and lawyers!« ... Dorothy was in top form now.

Gordon did not listen to the quarrel between Dorothy and Arthur. He preferred to study the book and its instructions: on the front was a copy of a German VEHICLE REGISTRATION document ... Manufacturer: Acton Corp., London (GB), TYPE: T.V.W., YEAR OF MANUFACTURE: 15/11/1954, FIRST REGISTRATION IN GERMANY: 02/06/1961 VEHICLE OWNER: ELENA HARMANN, HOCHGASSE 2, RECKLINGHAUSEN, PREVIOUS OWNER: AUTO BECK, DUISBURG. Gordon didn't find anything he wasn't unfamiliar with, at least not by looking into the manual or at the faces of his obscure table neighbors, who seemed to be making fun of him. So, he took the manual and left the room in the direction of the mysterious vehicle, while Doctor Willow continued, »There must be silence about all technical or historical details ... Hey, Gordon, what do you think I'm doing here? It is necessary to listen ...« - »No, it's not! The technical director is not responsible!« - »Yes, it is, indeed! And you're not a director yet! Gordon pretended to salute: »Ma'am, yes, ma'am, it has to be silence!« Then he left. Dorothy ruffled her hair: »Oh God! I made a mistake!!«. Arthur repeated Gordon's play: »Ma'am, no, Ma'am, you haven't, and you know that!« Gordon came back into the room with a packet and added, »And that came by airmail, just delivered from your service car!« As he said this, he nodded to the two mechanics and their Reliant Scimitar in front of the house. One of the boys was attaching the number plates to the roadster, and the other was waving to a Tiger Moth that had just restarted from the old RAF and was circling the pub to disappear to the south ...

»This contract is not to be signed but handed out to the New Popplebush agency«. Dorothy had angrily finished her testimony, and the constable had collected the documents. Now it was time to unpack the package: »The original vehicle documents!«, called John, and a high-spirited lawyer high-fived the happy Arthur. Next, John brought a box of metal buttons and a piece of paper to the table, pointing to a graphic representation: »The bugs came out of these parts of the car body; another was in Arthur's dumpster behind the cottage ... maybe it was replaced by a different one ... I think it was Russell, that idiot! Under the frame on the front, we found this one: it looks like the old German »Rasterfahndung«, but probably GPS-compatible« - »Oh, yes ... we know it since transporting the car from Germany; after restoring the frame, we reinstalled it ... belated: Happy Easter!«, remarked Arthur. John looked surprised: »All these fucking position detectors are the result of the car’s standing at your house for a single night, and it was not necessary to place an extra one! What the hell do you think we are doing here for your safety?« ... - »I think it was an exciting one-night stand for the car and successful research by your specialists; they would have done their job anyway!« Shaking his head, John returned to his topic: »The next bug is fascinating: high-tech, minimal, and mounted between the petrol tank and the differential!« Arthur was not worried at all but laughing: »Wow, Secret Service, what an honor!« – »Or what kind of folks, ever ... I should keep this bug together with the German one; I only hope you agree this time ...«

John was amused by a whispered disagreement between Dorothy and Arthur: »Confess you forgot him! You've forgotten your second man! I've been planning this coup for weeks, and you ...« - »There was no need to have a second man; you dragged him in!« - »That's your technical director, and you don't even want to tell him the truth!« - »I'm not going to do it now, and it's none of your business! By the way, he was hired by you because I never employed anyone who came by without your permission!« - »Okay, go to him and send him home! But how do you stand there, then?« - »I think you mean: »How do I stand there!« Arthur knew he had been unfair: »Dorothy, that was mean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!« With his words, he laid his hand on the victim's shoulder. The lawyer rose with a smile, made an elegant turn, and approached the bar to drum on its teak, exclaiming, »You can take your companion and disappear across the Channel, you Ärmelkanalleuchter! You're getting on my nerves!« - »The word is »Armleuchter«, as long as you speak in German!« - »You can take the forearm, upper arm, or elbow canal if you prefer, but go as fast as you can: go to hell! ... and come back safely!« Dorothy had just finished as Gordon came back excited: »I know what a car you have!« And John answered, »Remember the command: There is to be silence about that!«

Dorothy farewelled Arthur, Gordon, Paddy, and Taffy, embracing each of them: »Be careful!« And John waved, »Good luck, old boys!« The mechanics had taken their breakfast at Thruxton because they had to wait for Rijk Verhoven and his Tiger Moth. Now they set off first in their Reliant station wagon. Gordon glanced at the sports car's German license plate: RE-X 32, which was not entirely inconspicuous for a secret operation. In his thoughts about German license plates and German owners, he took the right side of the roadster and found himself in the driver's seat. As he tried to correct his mistake, he heard Arthur say, »That’s all right, drive her!« Dorothy looked like a mother who had to say goodbye to her children: »Does anyone else have a question?« »Yes!«, came from the driver's seat: »Where is the track of the Thruxton Train?« ...

The mysterious car left the Power Slide Inn with two waving hands and a conversation inside: »... No, there is no railway line ... not in New Popplebush!« Dorothy turned back to the pub: »For heaven's sake, not again! Not a second Arthur ... John! ... Do I have to bite someone, John?!« That is forbidden; I am an officer of the Royal ... ah! ... Madam, I arrest you for ...!« John carried a packet over his shoulder and carefully put it down in front of Dorothy's beer garden: »I have to go to school: traffic lessons for the kids!« The packet had a bold smile on her face: »Then listen carefully! ... and do what Teacher tells you!« They kissed and went about their daily duties. Now the street was empty of cars, people, and delivered packages.#

»Where are you from?« - »Cleckheaton, Yorkshire!« – »Cleck what?« - »It's near Leeds!« ... Gordon was glad he hadn't started the conversation. Surely, it would have been similar to Arthur's attempt, and he felt good that the buck hadn’t been passed to him. »And what the hell made you join in the Classics?«. Oh yes, indeed he was happy ...: »Because I just finished my engineering, and because Doctor Willow hired me ... I hope she hasn't already regretted it.« - »I can tell you that she never does anything that she will regret later. Herbert Marcuse would call her »The One-Dimensional Woman«: for her, doing and being mean the same thing. She is also the one-woman law department of the Classics. Earlier, she had abandoned her post in the European Parliament and, in the same act, left her party, only to lead a village of madmen ... seems just as crazy!« Gordon was impressed: »And what is your position? Are you a journalist or something else sophisticated?«. Arthur laughed: »Not a journalist and not demanding ... more a kind of one-trick pony ... I'm just trying to be useful when the classics call me.« - »Is that lucrative?« – »For the company: I hope so; for me: I can still get along!« - »I see: you and the boss are friends! ... I must confess that we have not met yet, and I do not even know his name. Is it the man in the big photograph behind the pub’s bar?« Arthur felt a little uncomfortable: »I don't know if he has friends; we can't help but fight each other and surrender together to the daily madness; we can't be friends, I need harmony!« - »So, you must be friends! The most harmonious figures in geometry are parallels. But you can't make ends meet with them!«. Arthur took a deep breath. Then he looked at Gordon and only said, »Funny things ... parallels!«#

Something was happening at Dover this morning: several press vehicles had gathered at the Kay, and most journalists wondered why one broadcast team was missing: The »New Popplebush Watchpoint«. Some reporters may also have been suspicious: Just Deborah Hastings was absent?! The Watchpoint was not only the newspaper of the smallest commune in the area, but it had put this village on the map beyond the mystical sites of Stone Henge and Thruxton to an international community of classic car enthusiasts. It was the house journal of The Orchid Classics. Here, readers could not only enjoy stories about historic motorsport but also learn anecdotes about the manufacturer and its celebrity customers, or gaze at pictures of Mrs. Alington's rose garden, the oldest resident. Deborah Hastings was also the one who liked to spread rumors by writing about mysterious vehicles and mysterious circumstances. One of these stories had led to experts now coming to Dover. »Experts« means all these experts, including Archibald Russell, a self-labeling expert in every case he was involved in. »Archie« was a freelance journalist and spent most of his time fighting against his failures. This time he was going to succeed; he was sure of it! He knew the background of Debbie's last mysterious story because he was from Popplebush in her neighborhood and knew everything because he had been born there. This was his advantage over many others who had not grown up here, including this »agent who worked for a factory settlement with a claim to sovereignty«. He had used this phrase a few years ago as a columnist for »The Salisbury Echo«. Yes, he'd gotten into trouble with Debbie Hastings, who had always been involved when he'd lost a good story. But this time, that was about to change! It was he who had a contract with »Old Timer's News«, an insider magazine for classic cars in Great Britain. His latest digital camera and the photos he'd taken of this mysterious queen of sports cars had made it possible. Ok ... The pictures weren't brilliant, but they showed that he was on task ... and more pictures followed: the object in front of the Power Slide Inn, the object and observed people on the way to the M3, the object on the M20 to the south, and the object at Sandling in the direction of Postling/Etchinghill. The last change made it clear to Archie: they didn't go to Folkestone; they took their way through the villages to Dover! Archie combined, »You think you're going to shake off your observer like that? I tell you, you will not do it! I'll take the A20 and meet you in Dover, folks!« He was trying to catch his OB van, which was supposed to be waiting somewhere between the ferry ports on the coast. But his brand-new mobile phone didn't work because of bad reception! The OB truck had a more powerful phone; he knew that. So, he stopped at the nearest public phone, called his crew, and felt like a pro. He had no way of knowing that they were already standing at Dover-Kay ...

Leaving his car, Archie couldn't believe his eyes: there was one OB van after another, TV cameras in position, and antennas installed. »What are the people doing here?!«, he shouted on his way to his crew. They got a phone call!«, was the reply. - »When did they get a call ... who called them?!« – »Last week! ... I don't know who!« - »And Hastings?« – »Haven't seen her yet, must have slept through it! Archie grinned, »Or she didn't get a signal because her bug was in the trash!«. Bob, the cameraman and technician in one, shook his head: »The position detectors reach 500 to 800 meters. This way, you can take note of your wonder car by watching it coming ... if it comes at all!« Archie was shocked: »And GPS? ... The year is 1999, and the World Wide Web is at work! And you're telling me about ultra-short waves ... I was expecting you to have this rust bucket on the hook!«. Bob Mortimer replied with a look of pity: »GPS and World Wide Web together? ... You’re talking about telemetry ... Who do you think we are: the Secret Service? If we cheat, we must do it as usual, Mr. Russell!«

Three classic sports cars drove into the entrance to the Kay. Archie was surprised: »I saw them in the village this morning: shouldn't they go to the Classics Meeting at Thruxton Race Circuit?« - »You mean the McKenzies? They are illusion artists ... on the way to a classic car race in the German Eifel!« – »And now they want to make the Nürburgring disappear?!«.

Bob's hand hit Archie's back right between his shoulders and made him gasp while Bob did the same because of laughing: »That ... that was good! ... I'm laughing myself to death!«. Suddenly, a chirp was heard, coming not only from his but also from several OB vans. Now there was a lot of activity: reporters got into position. Some rushed to the ferry staff, others to those standing next to their cars, waiting for their boat. But not even the McKenzies knew what historic moment was to occur at Dover. The beeping became more intense, together with the approach of a container truck that entered the Kay and stopped near Archie. One of the dock officials glanced at the papers that the driver had held out and shouted, »Not Dover! On the first page it is written: »Ramsgate—Ostend!«« With a theatrical wave of his hand, the driver restarted the engine, and the truck left Dover, and an Archie shouted »Ramsgate, Ramsgate!«, and ran to his car. In less than ten minutes, a line of OB vans rushed east to follow a beeping container truck.

Shores, Borders, and Limits

Bob and his apprentice boy did not hurry. They tidied the Old-Timer’s-News-Van, talking and joking. Now he put smiling his fingers to his cap: »Ma’am!«, and Deborah Hastings answered: »Daredevils!« Behind her, a low green sports car approached the driveway of HOVERCRAFT SPEED.

The first officer pretended to have a nervous breakdown: »We don’t have all day to start the flight; hurry!« while keeping his thumbs up before the shoulder camera with a laugh, and the captain himself handed out a stack of paper to Arthur by speaking German: »Ihr macht ja eine Menge Faxen!«. Arthur studied the telefax information coming from Dorothy’s headquarters: »08:30: I-BUY-auction started, 09:00: 180,000 Pound-Sterling from Scotland, 10:15 CET: 250,000.000 Shillings, Austria, 09:30: 850,000 US-Dollar, no news from Italy, im Raubtierkäfig herrscht noch Ruhe = the lion of Westerholt is still asleep!«. Dorothy’s last information was less than 10 minutes ago. The men on PRINCESS ANNE had to hurry, as did Old Timer’s News staff. In about forty minutes, they had to reach Calais. During this time, there was to be installed a TV line, a broadcast was to be held, and everything cleaned up again.

In front of a busy scene, but without a view of the green sports car, Deborah took the microphone and introduced a special live broadcast, informing about a sensational auction on the World Wide Web. Next to talk was Arthur: »When, after the World War, British motorsport made its first steps again, things did not go as promised. The engineers of BRM had started to develop a Formula One car in the late forties, but took it the wrong way. The successful racing bolides came from Italy, and in 1954 and 1955, even from Germany. But there was Anthony Vandervell, who wanted to change things. He was an alloy fabricator and delivered bearings to the car industry. His dream was to build his racing car with products from his factory. First, he bought Italian racing cars, studied their technical details, and modified them with the help of British engineers who came from British airplane factories. Those engineers should later become famous car builders and stand behind a glorious time of British motorsport. Because of their ideas, the first world championship for Formula One constructors in 1958 was won by a British car: the Vanwall. But there is still the story about someone else with the same idea, but who was only concerned with sports cars. This unknown person or group had something to do with the crew around Vandervell and might have been a member or a customer. Because there are plenty of mystical tales about the involved, the project car is sometimes called »The Secret Vanwall«. Even the name »Slimwall Special« reminds Vandervell’s first racing car, the Thin Wall Special. But cars named Vanwall have always been developments of their own. After Slimwall had been sold to Germany in the early sixties, the local officials set into the rubric, producer: »Acton Corp.«. But first, this car had left the factory of the Barca family near Modena in 1954. Her sisters are the famous 750 Brescia. Those 31 red-colored spiders had an engine of three liters with four cylinders, and their block was one piece with the cylinder heads. No. 32 was green, had a special hardtop, and is known today as the mysterious Slimwall Special. These are the only modifications to this car, probably because the project had been stopped. At a last auction two years ago in the USA, a Brescia made 1,800,000 Dollars. This was more than a typical 12-cylinder Barca brought in ever. The Orchid-Classics found the Slimwall Special in Germany and restored it completely. Now we are on our way to auctioning it worldwide on the »I-Buy platform«, and the starting grid for the car will be in Germany again. The auction ends at midnight Central European Time, and if the winner comes from Europe, we will deliver this car the same way she once came to England: by driving the roads! But this time with an illustrated story! There will be no current pictures now, but I promise they will come soon! And now return to »Magic Debbie«, Deborah Hastings!«

Debbie finished the broadcasting with her typical ritual, and Arthur sat down on the floor behind the van to roll himself another cigarette. »I hate that!«, he informed Gordon, who stood beside him, saying, »Seems to be a strange game you’re playing! So, why didn’t you ...?« Debbie interrupted, shouting, »Arthur, telephone, it’s the Queen!«

Gordon witnessed Dorothy’s call without leaving his position, or better, he listened to Arthur: »No, we can’t send pictures of the car in real time, not yet! It’s too dangerous for my sister now, and you don’t know the German authorities. They might have changed their political positions, but they will never change their ritual acting. Remember the GDR! Of course, your line is running hot; that’s the plan! And you can tell them anything you know, as long as you don’t know everything. Tell them to watch the pictures of the restoration we published on the web! ... Oh, thank you, I love you so much too!« Arthur left the van, passing Debbie’s sarcastic smile: »She wants to slay you, right?!« – »No, she wants to drown me ... in the Channel!« Arthur reached Gordon again: »What did you want to ask me, just before ...« – »It’s okay, I got the answer, listening to your conversation!« – »You wanted to know if she wants to slay down, or better to drown me?« – »Yes, something like this ... and I just wondered why we did not take the flight from Folkestone to Boulogne, I think, it’s our direction anyway! But it’s always a pleasure to get new details of this puzzle.«#

Archibald Russell was not amused. He stood like a statue, still looking into this empty container that was enthroned on a simple frame. The truck had already left and was doing its job again ... a job, what trucks are made for and not playing games, for which trucks are not made ... The OB vehicles had left, too, and his crew had not even arrived. Instead of this, his mobile telephone had a good connection at Ramsgate, and the voice of his managing editor was clear: »Archie, dear friend! I thank you for doing a good job! ... Oh, yes, they tricked us, but it’s not your fault ... of course, we pay you according to our contract, and we wish you to be lucky next time; we’ll give you a call again!«. Archie’s head was busy thinking about what had happened. It was impossible to think about what was happening now ... and why an Orchid Classics service car was entering the Trans Europa Ferry Terminal. Someone seemed to wave out of the car, but Archie insisted on ignoring that.#

»Archie is a poor fellow!«. Deborah sipped the rest of her coffee and shoved the cup aside to Gordon’s one on top of the dashboard: »... he conducted the work to our entire satisfaction again, but doesn’t know why.« – »So, you tricked him by expecting his failure?« – »That’s his only way to be useful, the only way to survive! ... what shall he do? He only studied journalism; he can’t do anything else.« – »And how did Deborah Hastings become »Magic Debbie«, didn’t you study journalism the same?« – »Oh no!« Debbie giggled: »I was a social worker before the Queen made me a feared »Paparazza«.« Gordon was surprised: »But ... isn’t that ...?« Debbie interrupted: »... the opposite of social working? Yes, I already said Paparazza, didn’t I? Teaching firefighters means teaching presumed arsonists as well. Being a member of state security means having the option of committing any crime without consequences. We all use our advantage and get corrupted by inhumanity, Mr. Gandhi!« – »But first, those who had no advantage get tainted!« Gordon expected a serious discussion, but he was mistaken! Deborah left the car, saying, »I’m dying to go to the loo!« This was not an acceptable argument from Gordon’s view, but he couldn’t change it. Bob had taken the driver’s seat of the Slimwall Special, and his laughter passed through the open windows from one vehicle to the other. He had finished cleaning up and looked forward to the next things to come as a crew member of PRINCESS ANNE approached Arthur’s car side with new information. Arthur was alarmed, reading: »Der Amtsschimmel ist gesattelt! = Beware of the red tape!« Dorothy had tried to translate Elena’s German again ... she knew Elena, and that Elena was Arthur’s sister ... Doctor Willow! ... she was on fire! Arthur asked the messenger to return with his answer, and the man vanished with another piece of paper: »Send a message to Hansgens: we arrive at Venlo in four hours, cc to Marl, and don’t translate it into Dutch or German, Dorothy!«

When Debbie returned, she stopped at the green car and bent down, and her head vanished in the small space between the door and the hardtop. Then she got up again with an enchanted look and hovered back to the OB truck.

It was not necessary to tell Gordon that he had lost his driver's seat in the sports car to Bob and that Debbie did not want to die ... or worse, to get vexed about having to drive on the wrong side of the road in an alien land. Remembering her statement against »the bloody roads of the continent«, he had already started the engine while she climbed into the van, and now the cars slowly left PRINCESS ANNE, entering Calais.#

Elena Harmann was in a hurry. She was a little nervous because of »Plan B«, even though it seemed to work, but she would have preferred something easier. If they had called her tomorrow, they would have had no chance. But now there was to be showtime! The traffic licensing department had called at 10:50 with a request depending on information details in the case of RE-X 32. »What’s wrong with that?« Her question had changed the voice at the other end of the line from middle-ranking official to high official: »We want you to show us your car. This is a normal process when vehicles are to have a new registration in Germany!« – »You want to tell me there is a problem registering my car? Why don’t you speak with the car dealer? »Autohaus Hansgen, Recklinhausen« is authorized to deal with that; this is a service for customers and a normal process too!« – »Yes, we are informed about this special case: yesterday, Autohaus Hansgen got the registration for this vehicle, and ....« – »You say yesterday? Wonderful! I must have a joyride! ... Thank you, is there anything else?« – »Just a moment! You are not permitted to have a joyride in a car without an ordinary registration! Of course, dealers announce more than one vehicle for registration in one morning, and they cannot present them altogether! But in this case ...« – »In this case, you just told me my car has already been registered! Do you want to get the number plates now to inspect them? Go to Hansgens and look at them. By the way, you can inspect the car too if it pleases you! The other choice is to come to my flat, and I will come with you to Hansgens; I haven’t got a car here anyway!« The voice at the other end had changed again. It had become more friendly ... a little too friendly! Elena had imagined something like a hunting cat watching the victim. It’s questionable if cats do talk before they jump; this cat had indeed talked to the mouse: »We contact you at your home!«

Now Elena prepared for the government visit: she destroyed the fax from Dorothy, hid the fax machine in the bedroom closet, and started her wonderful »Mocca Master«. That was an old Dutch coffee machine.

It rang at the door, and Elena faced two men, one in a policeman’s uniform, who introduced himself as Hauptwachtmeister Dreyer ... mit »Y«. The other guy was »Steuerbeamter Rainer Kröger, angenehm!« Elena was not impressed: »And who comes from the road traffic licensing department?« Dreyer seemed to get a little taller: »That’s me, shall we go inside?« At the same moment, he made a step forward to pass by Elena. A loud »Stop!« made him hesitate, but it was not only this: she had made a back step as well, directly into the policeman’s way, and now they were standing face to face with their noses nearly touching: »Dear officer ...« – »Hauptwachtmeister Drey ...!« – »Dear Mister Y, you have the choice whether to be my guest or have not even a chance to come into my rooms! As my guest, you can sit in my living room, have some cake and coffee, and ask me anything you want as long as it is not impertinent. Impertinent also means walking through my rooms, taking things in your hands, or saying, »I only take a look, or, do you have something to hide?« No, Officer, I don’t hide anything, but I want to be respected in my home! So, I ask you to go into the hallway once again, and we start from the beginning!« Dreyer felt like an educated and experienced policeman, able to assert himself: »Well, we can come back with a search warrant, if you ...!« – »So, you haven’t got a search warrant yet! That’s because there was no crime, and so, you came to be my guests. Please avoid losing any time, and let’s try it once more. Mind your end of working time!« The officer stepped back and murmured, »What a silly game!« and Elena’s answer was: »The name of the game is »Civil Society« ... Gentlemen, would you please pass through to the living room?«#

The two-car convoy had just passed Eindhoven on the way along the E34. They had not lost any time, and Gordon guessed that everything went as expected. What kind of things? Perhaps there was time left to get further information!

Deborah sat between Gordon, the driver, and Patrick, Bob's very young trainee. Gordon had asked her if it wasn’t more dangerous to let someone else do the right-hand traffic without knowing his driving skills than to try it herself carefully, and she had answered that a maximum risk would be better than a certain death. But finally, Debbie became inquisitive: »And ... what about you: are you experienced in right-hand traffic?« – »Eh ... yes, I studied in Germany, Technische Hochschule Osnabrück«, I just finished!« Debbie clapped her hands: »Hark, Osnabrück! And Dorothy grabbed another German!« – »I’m not a German, and who told you ...!« – »You mean the Technical Director? Listen: I’m a journalist, and I live in New Popplebush!« – »And she’s rampant ... hey, what’s wrong? This is a compliment for your profession!« Debbie had punched her elbow into Patrick’s ribs: »What do you think would happen if this were not a compliment ... But what shall Gordon think about me? He does not know our way around!« – »You might also have chosen an honest job!«, Patrick countered her argument, but protected himself at the same moment. Gordon was not in tune for joking: »Everyone knows everything about me, with me not knowing anyone or anything ... I just had this before in Nattbusch, about forty kilometers South of Osnabrück, where I lived for some time with my girlfriend, who came from there. Soon, everybody was talking about me, but not with me, not even my girlfriend’s parents did. We lost each other this way ... So, I think you know everything now. That’s the end of my report!«

The driving cabin had become quiet for a while; one could even listen to the twitter of the engine’s valves. Deborah took heart: »You’re wrong, Gordon, I promise! It’s a little difficult presently, but nobody will talk about you without talking to you; above all, Arthur won’t do this! You will know him as well as you will know us ... Eh, I mean, nearly as well. It will be better from day to day, be sure!« Gordon noticed suppressed laughter from Patrick and corrected his first impression: the two fit together and had the same drastic sense of humor, and so, the expected question finally came: »Nutbush? You mean Nutbush City Limits?« – »No, Nattbusch! That means marsh and woods together. This village belongs to the surroundings of the Teutoburg Forest. They drink a kind of gin called »Steinhäger«.« The following discussion was conducted without Gordon: »And this is the village of Tina Turner?« – »No, Tina Turner is an American!« – »Tina Turner lives in Switzerland! But the »Teutoburger Wald« is in Germany. Or is there a second Teutoburg in Switzerland if there is a second Nutbush in Germany?« - »No, there is no Nutbush and no Teutoburg in Switzerland ... Neither in Switzerland nor in Germany! »Teutoburginum« is a place at the river Donau in Croatia; it’s an old Roman camp!« – »I won’t let a Paddy tell me rubbish! »Teutoburginum« doesn’t sound Latin! Next, you will tell me is, that North-Italy was founded by German »Ost Friesen« – »And I can’t stand uneducated English paparazzi! The Longobards came from the German Mecklenburg, and they were no East Frisians! They were called »Winnili« before they crossed the area of the Vandals, another German tribe living on the west side of the Harz Mountains at that time. Because the Vandals were known as terrible folks, all the women of the Winnili dressed as warriors with their long hair bound under their chins, just like long beards. The Vandals had never seen such a strong army and did not bother them on their way to the South.« – »Okay then, and the Ostrogoths come from the West!« – »No! All the Goths came from the East! They only reached the Romans from two sides because a bridge had fallen ... a bridge over the river Donau ... hey, give me back my cap!« Gordon finally was fed up: »If you both like anything else than making fun of others, you should try it now ... or I take the next stop and leave the car!«

The OB truck was overtaken by an alto saxophone again. Soon, Bob would lower its speed to get passed again. This repetition scene was to be expected, and Debbie waved with her hand just behind the van’s front window: »He’s a child, a crazy child!« Gordon smiled for the first time: »Aren’t we all still children?« – »Oh yes, all men are still children!« – »And what about you? Do you think that all men are children and all women are adults?« – »What do you mean?« – »I think it’s the same thing if women are called strong or men fail to be strong, as long as everyone pretends to be strong! Deep inside, there is the same child as before in everyone, but tainted by grown-ups who refuse to be children. Only manipulation decides on an advantage or disadvantage! You already told me something similar on the boat, didn’t you?« – »You think nobody is strong?« – »I think there are no heroes for the valet!« – »Wow: Hegel! I think you were too long in Germany! ... but do you believe that all children are Angels?« – »No, but that doesn’t matter at all. It doesn’t matter how many Angels gather at the start, it matters how much of being an Angel is still left inside of them at the finish, and how often they had to weep!« – »Do children lose their »being Angles« if they have to cry?« This time, the answer came from the other side of the cabin: »Yes, I think so: by remembering only bad things you get angry, and remembering only good things makes you stupid!« Debbie laughed: »Who said this: the seventeen-and-a-half-aged Patrick Trehearn?« – »Yes, Ma’am: the eighteen-year-old Patrick Trehearn and Erich Kästner!« Debbie had a mischievous look at Gordon: »It’s good that you joined us, you and Arthur will be best friends!« Patrick added: »Don’t rejoice too soon: each being special himself, doesn’t automatically mean that they have something in common!« The unwilling driver felt like an unwilling passenger: »And what is the difference between Arthur and you crazy folks?« Debbie answered without having to think about it: »It’s the biggest possible difference between people at all: Arthur has nothing to laugh about!« Gordon gave it up, and the two stopped turning him on because they couldn’t stop laughing. Following the green goddess into the exit, »Venlo«, Gordon murmured, »Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?«

Magic Debbie jumped out of the van and stormed into Bob’s arms. Swaying her around, he shouted, »Hey, Ma’am, ... nice to see you again!« – »Somehow, I’m seeing you for the first time!« They kissed, and she hurried to the entrance of Auto-Hansgens-NL so as not to miss Arthur and their common mission. At the same moment, they both were approached by a desperate secretary: »Mr. Lombard, we cannot decipher a message for you from Dr. Willow; it looks Chinese!« Arthur gazed at the piece of paper: »No, it’s Egyptian; that’s an Ibis!« – »That can only be a caricature of an Ibis ... a crazy-looking Ibis!« – »Yes, it’s from a comic, ... »Asterix and Cleopatra« ... it’s a private message for me; don’t answer if you need some time of peace!«

Big Bob Mortimer stood next to this slim lady in green with her unusual hardtop and smiled. He did not look like he had ever sat in this low car because this was impossible. But he had! ... And now caressed the green bonnet ... in the firm belief that this car was uncomfortable but magic.#

The situation in Elena Harmann’s flat was more or less comfortable. The tax investigator praised the coffee and loved to take a piece of cake. The policeman’s activity was similar to the animation of a statue. Like a cobra, he waited for the right moment to push forward and kill his victim. But there was no rattling sound coming from the cobra. So, Elena felt compelled to start the questioning: »Please tell me, why did you not visit Hansgens and examine the mystery car? That would not be more than logical!« The cobra with a Y in its last name took the floor: »As long as you are the owner of this vehicle, you will have to be responsible for everything ...« Mr. Kröger interrupted, »... although, reluctantly! Naturally, someone from the finance department is on the way to the dealer of your trust, too!« Rainer Kröger spoke in a calm, nearly whispering tone and reacted to the surprised-looking Dreyer with a smile: »Our main subject, in this case, is the probably enormous value of your rare vehicle. So, we have to investigate your business activity in case of legal compliance. There must have been several financial turnovers before. Another point is that we suspect your car was just licensed in Germany but had not left the British island for months, and we want to know the reason. At least, this valuable object got to a well-known English manufacturer for classic car restorations. Do you have the money for this, and if so, where did you get it from?« With a smile, Elena listened to what she had expected: »Oh, I think you are right: this must have been costly; we are just negotiating a deal with the Orchid Classics containing this charge of costs, ... and it’s only natural that the effort of restoring this car is less than it’s worth in the end. But I’m not interested in knowing how valuable this object is ... and by the way, I’m not interested in how important these circumstances are for you, Gentlemen! Did the small post office of Mauritius have to expect police and tax investigations for having sold a famous stamp for only two pence? All you need to know is that I bought an incomplete car, together with its missing parts, from a scrap merchant; my brother and his friends rebuilt it, and I brought it to »TÜV-Recklinghausen« for demonstration. I paid 15,000 DM for scraps and some documents, my tax, my dues to the TÜV, and my dues for registration fees! The scrap dealer got more for this single car from me than he had paid for the complete scrap he had bought from the bankruptcy of a prominent importer for exclusive vehicles! In this case, I have a question for you, Gentlemen: who informed you ... was it the TÜV, the register, or the scrap dealer? Do institutions prefer talking about people instead of speaking with them?« The finance investigator looked at Elena in disbelief: »As you see, lady, we are speaking with you now! And you won’t tell me that the Orchid Classics delivered this car to you without any safety, will you? And now we reach the point ...!« From the pocket of Kröger’s jacket, there was a ringing sound. He took the mobile to his ear: »Schulze, hello! Your call comes just in time!... Unbelievable: the car is just on the way to Hansgens at Venlo, they say... Oh, yes, of course: an interested customer!... Must be a rich Dutch customer ... o.k.: call the Dutch police for help! ... already done? Perfect! ... They will visit a great show with nothing to see! Thanks, Schulze!#

Dreyer’s face had changed. His hypnotizing cobra look had turned into the fixed eyes of a hawk, speeding down to his easy prey: »You just mentioned your brother: where is Arthur Harmann now? Our last information is an arrest warrant from 1976: crimes of violence during a demonstration against nuclear power in Brokdorf!« Elena listened, still smiling in her armchair. But it was a disgusted smile, and her answer had a similar tone: »This arrest warrant was abolished after less than 24 hours because of photographs, made by journalists, which demonstrated a crime of violence by the police in this case. Later, the interior authorities talked about »mistakes made by single police officers«. That’s the way authorities cover up their crime: the crime of the century! But at that time, in Germany, we had an investigative press. Today they crawl into any authority’s ass!« – »There are consequences for insulting an official, I warn you!« – »Did I, personally, mention your ...? By the way: there were indeed groups of demonstrates who insisted on violence ...« – »Aha, listen to this!« – »One of the leaders of these groups is sitting at the time ...« – »I hope him to sit in jail, at least ...!« – »He’s sitting in the German parliament and became a minister last year, but I don’t think, you are researching for this, do you?« Mr. Kröger interfered with the subject: »... not to escalate the situation. Madam, we must confess not to have any information about your brother ... not even a tax declaration!« Elena Harmann stopped smiling. She stopped smiling and began to laugh instead. It was a kind of laughter, like being amused by playing children. Her answer was similar to speaking to playing children: »Oh, I’m sorry to tell you: he’s living in a neighboring country and got a different name now!« The Y got excited: »Hark! That’s what I mean: being a criminal means staying a criminal! Or do you want to tell me that he has been adopted by a foreign millionaire?« Laughing at his joke, Dreyer patted himself on the thighs. Elena studied his silly acting intensely before she acted herself. Smiling, now with an open mouth, she opened her arms and hands, demonstrating a soap scene of looking happily surprised without using any words. The officer was more than impressed; he was caught by surprise himself, but differently ... This girl was able to play a role in an oriental movie, The Goddess of Death: »Kali« with only two arms left!

Kröger’s pocket was ringing again: »Schulze! You’re fast ... what ...!? That’s not possible; we have no info that it left England at all ... Yes, the GPS detector! ... they use it as a cat’s toy? ... There are pictures to come? Shit! ... yes, thank you, Schulze!«

The two couch authorities opposite Elena’s armchair, strangely looked at each other. The policeman was angry, but the taxman seemed to be ashamed. But the young woman was amused because she had combined the facts: »So they found your silly bug, didn’t they? ... What is the meaning of »restoring« from your view?« The tax investigator was distressed: »The frame was covered with an anti-rust foam. So, we hid the position detector behind ...« – »You mean they won’t touch the foam because it’s anti-rust, eh?« – »In German garages ...« – »German garages! Those places where customers pay for destruction? We’re not talking about German garages! We’re not talking about German garages for imported cars, either, where wonderful vehicles get ruined by so-called experts. We are not even talking about British garages. We are talking about The ORCHID CLASSICS MANUFACTORY, RESTORING EVERY KIND OF CLASSIC VEHICLES, AND BUILDERS OF THE ORIGINAL SEVENTEEN-O. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, SIR?!«

Elena’s telephone destroyed this magic moment with its ringing, and before she could set the receiver to her ear, there was a buzz of voices to witness: »Hi, you crazy gangsters! ... Yes, Big Brother is still watching us ... they are out for blood! Yes, I know about your meeting with the Dutch police ... Of course, they can be friendly! They have not restarted with old Nazis after the war; here we have a renaissance with StaSi folks at the moment ... O.K., we’ll meet at »Mother Wehner’s« this evening; I arranged everything! ... Yes, I know: your team will be on their way back to the island. Have a good journey, Debbie! ... Is the deal done? Don’t forget to check the tax calculation, Arthur ... There’s mail on the way...? O.K.: Bye!

Elena looked into their stunned faces: »Gentlemen, if you encounter any problems with my car, let me tell you first« ... She took her cup of coffee and enjoyed a short sip: »I don’t have any car at all! But if you like, I’m glad to show you something in a minute!« She turned to her 486 computer, and the modem occupied the telephone line with an electronic squeak. Sometime later, an electronic voice called, »You got mail!« Three adults gazed at a 14-inch monitor, looking as nervous as some children awaiting Santa Claus. Now, one of them, disguised as a police officer, pointed to the picture on the screen. It was a photograph, having been shot this very day, perhaps half an hour ago. There was to be seen a green goddess and behind her a television team, together with the manager of Hansgens-NL and his crew. Next to the goddess, there were two people on both sides: one Dutch policeman and one suspect person, with one hand of the policeman on his shoulder. All of them kept their thumbs up and smiled. No ... not all of them were smiling: within the TV crew, there was a bear of a man who could not resist laughing. »Who is that man!?« Dreyer had become an adult again. Not so, Elena: »You mean the laughing teddy bear?« – »No, the red-haired one with the beret, this Che Guevara for the poor! Did he pull the strings? I will get him! And I tell you, you will have to give me some answers in this case, Madam!« - »Was there ever a Che Guevara for the rich? But you’re right, this guy is pulling the strings only because of his red hair, and I won’t need to tell you anything else: this is my brother Arthur Lombard!« - »I see, you’re living in the finest circles and do not show any respect!«, murmured Dreyer, and Elena sprinted out of the flat, way through the hallway, and finally stopped at the stairs, just to shout after the downstairs leaving uniform: »Our circles are not used to slamming any doors, either!«

A kind of Parsifal

She came in again and met a tax man in poor condition who hesitantly got up while she entered the living room: »Mr. Kröger, is there anything else I can do for you?« The investigator stammered: »No, eh, yes, perhaps ... I want to say something, as long ... as long as you still want to listen to me at all ...« – »We live in a free state where civil servants may handle the people as ever they want! So, let’s sit down again and have another cup of coffee or anything else you prefer: I understand that you had a lot of work researching my details. Now then, tell me the latest news about me!« Kröger nodded: »Yes, I think I deserve this. Nevertheless, it was my job to investigate a dubious deal, but now I think this is something different. Whatever it was, I felt responsible for something going wrong. I’m sorry, Ma’am!« Now it was Elena who felt uncomfortable. She took some time searching for words and began stumbling herself: »I ... I must tell you something, too ... I never believed I’d tell you at all! ... We expected something like this, and we wanted to use it for our story ... a true story that we can add to a mythos at the right time. You know »Phoenix from the Ashes«? ... It’s a great legend from Greek mythology. RE-X 32 shares a commonality with Phoenix. But I must confess that we provoked some inspiring details for this story: so, we delivered some secrets to the German authorities to make them distrustful. Institutions are used to reacting with an impulse mechanism and sending officials like Dreyer, matching a mechanical system. We use mechanical systems, too ... normally for technical improvement; therefore, we had no problem starting a machine and stopping it after it had been useful. I did not mean to hurt human beings, ... and it’s I who is sorry, Mr. Kröger!« For a moment, she could not assess the situation. She could not assess what was going on in Kröger, either! He looked into her eyes: »I cannot remember ever having been called a human being before, when I was on duty ... Would you please call me »Rainer«?« She hesitantly took his offered hand and could not avoid whispering ... »Yes, I would like to ... »Elena«!« The next scene could have been expected by everyone who has read a romantic book. But it was new to the protagonists, who would never have thought about this up to this moment: the rebel and the vassal kissed!

... »Was this cause and effect or impulse and mechanism? I have some problem with keeping this apart!« Rainer’s question made Elena look pensive and bold at the same time: »Did you like it?« – »Oh, yes, I did!« – »Would you like some more?« He answered by kissing her again, and that took some time ... After they had been gasping for breath, she continued, »Then it was cause and effect!« – »... Are you sure? ... I hoped for this answer, but I feared the other... because of women’s potential resentments against men!« Elena pretended to be shocked: »Oh, my God ... you’re right! We’ll have to check this of course, ... we have to check it now!«#

Elena and Rainer had finished their checkup and found they were in love. Now they entered the balcony to have their cigarettes. They talked about things people in love are used to talking about (mechanism?) ... but soon they reached the subject Rainer had formally come for. He blew the smoke through his nose and recognized, »That’s great theater, what you’re doing, something like Shakespeare ... Chapeau, Madame! I’m eagerly awaiting the next scene!« Elena explained: »The operation »Spinning Wheel« is, on one hand, an internet auction on I-Buy. This is similar to Alando in Germany, but worldwide! On the other hand, it is a way to make the Orchid Classics more famous. With a sensational story, we provoked international journalism to hunt Arthur and his mates. But we decide if they get us occasionally. The great story has to come from »The Old Timer’s News«, our contracted partner. We need the World Wide Web to get offers as high as possible, but Arthur prefers to sell the car to the UK or back to Italy. That’s the only way to get off the hook if the auction winner does not come from Great Britain. He had tried to contact the Barca family some weeks ago and is sure that the Commendatore’s descendants are interested, although they never answered his message. They may be as noble as they want, but the mythos of Slimwall Special No. 32 is too strong! Just before you came for a visit, the level was more than a million, and there was an offer from Italy as well.« – »Eh, ... a million lire?« – »No, and not even D-Mark, but Pound Sterling!« – »And you are doing this to make Arthur get richer?« – »No, all of us do this for about thirty families with at least one member working for the Classics!« – »Sorry, but I had to think about you as the owner of ...« Elena stubbed out her cigarette and laughed: »Rainer! Please send your investigator to have some coffee! Nothing here is like it seems to be, but everything is legal, and I will have my share! The only thing we have to hope is that Arthur can deliver the goddess back to England or Italy, and I think it will be Italy ... at Dorothy’s guess.« – »Aha: Dorothy ...« – »Yes, Dorothy ... better known as Dr. Dorothy Willow, the Witch ...« – »The Witch of Brussels? I heard about the EU scandal, ... and she works for you now?« – »She is Queen of the Orchids now!« – »Wow ... you must be a bunch of professionals ... But do you think your story is managed as professionally the same?!« – »Of course, it is! For this, we have Magic Debbie! She is pulling the strings in every case of publishing all around the auction!« – »But she can only tell a story ...« – »That’s demonstration enough for someone like Deborah Hastings; everything about this subject can get researched, either!« – »But isn’t she leading a broadcasting team too? ... I listened to your telephone call ... I mean, isn’t it better to watch things live than get told?« – »Eh, ... what do you mean?« – »I mean, there is a little more than an hour to reach Hansgens-NL by car! The only thing you should do is inform Magic Debbie before we leave.« – »Hm, ... but we take my car!« – »Your car ... didn’t you say ...?« – »Big Brother doesn’t know everything, does he? I’m using the same law that allows British soldiers stationed in Germany and their families to have British number plates on their cars ... Darling: »Nothing is like it seems to be« means: The truth is only a big illusion, too. You should know this, working for one of the market leaders in selling this kind of illusion. The truth is that when the authorities get what they want, as long as people feel safe and believe in lies!« – »Oh, I see! ... and you’re acting as an authority now ... welcome to the fair of power!«#

There was a kind of funfair on the court of Hansgens. Several local journalists met with international reporters, shooting photographs for newspapers or even recording videos for the German WDR. Arthur, bored with questions and camera flashlights, was only glad that the Reliant had already arrived with Paddy and Taffy protecting the goddess behind the vitreous gate of the wash hall against dissatisfied photographers now. The two boys didn’t feel bored but used the situation to tell everyone they were not English. Gordon was busy laying out documents on a special sideboard in the sales office and placing the big glass plate back over them. He had to hurry before the crowd stormed in. Later, they rushed out again the same way because someone had noticed Debbie’s crew preparing her first performance. Bob was satisfied, having all those reporters in front of his lens. That looked as if the whole place was full of them. Nobody noticed Gordon collecting his documents again, while Magic Debbie seemed to wait for something. But she professionally managed this: she was the head of it, and she made the rules! A car approached from the road on the other side of the house, and the driver honked the horn ...

»Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to our special broadcast, this time coming from the Netherlands! This is Deborah Hastings for The Old Timer’s News: As guests of Autohaus Hansgens, we are proud to send you some news about the Slimwall Special, the mystery goddess of sports cars. The actual subject is a worldwide auction, which will make Sotheby’s envious because of its international resonance. Offers from Europe, Japan, Russia, and the USA have already climbed the stand of more than 1,400,000 British pounds. But we don’t stand here only telling you this sensational news about this auction or doing guesswork about where the journey of the mystery queen and her court will lead us tomorrow ... We have some special guests too! First, I want to introduce a man who knows our »lady in green« better than us. Both of them are rooted in a great era of motorsport, and both of them are the same as famous and mysterious. The man I’m referring to was an example of a race driver at this time: an example of being fast and fair as well. He was one of the first British race drivers who won international races in British formula cars after the War. Even though he won on many circuits in every category, from sports cars to Formula One, he never became a world champion because he always missed a few points. But in the same way, he is a witness to a great time! Ladies and Gentlemen: Please welcome ...!« – »Rainer Kröger, Finanzamt Recklinghausen, machen Sie die Kamera aus, dies ist eine behördliche Ermittlung!« Debbie pretended to be surprised: »Oh, probably, there is something wrong ... I wanted to welcome a prominent witness of a great time. I didn’t know that we have another prominent man to welcome here today. Ladies and Gentlemen: Rainer Kröger, a financial investigator from Recklinhausen, Germany, and a witness of a great time: applause for Rainer Kröger!« There was big laughter, and some indeed clapped their hands. The agent didn’t let himself be deterred: »I told you to switch off the camera. This is an ...« – »An investigation of authority, we listened to that ... Sir, we won’t switch off the camera; you'd better get out of the focus if you do not want to be seen, but I think it’s too late ... we got permission for our broadcasting! Please tell us, what is your permission to appear in our show?« Now there was laughter from all around, but that could be increased: Rainer took an identity card out and let it vanish again in his pocket, just like an arrogant German »Krimi-Komissar«, adding, »I got this, and the Schengen Agreement!« After a long »Boo!« coming from the crowd, Debbie shouted, »What was this ... your newest train ticket free for German officials? Look at this brave agent: he comes to Holland by train after work!« A voice disturbed the background noise: »He can stick his Schengen Agreement into his ...!« Debbie noticed a young woman pushing through the crowd and reacted quickly with her microphone: »And who are you, now?« – »My name is Elena Harmann, and I am the present owner of the Slimwall Special. And I’m fed up with agents like this exemplar beside you who bother me for the whole long day, investigating a so-called crime!« – »This is no so-called crime, but an initial suspicion, Madam! And as long as you are innocent, our work is for your good!«, Rainer meddled. Debbie began to love her show: »Mr. Kröger, what does »initial suspicion« mean in this case?« Rainer didn’t feel uncomfortable, even though he had to play the bad one: »We noticed the story about the Slimwall Special, and we got the information about a mystery deal between a scrap dealer from Castrop-Rauxel and this lady. We also knew that the scrap dealer had bought numerous spares, parts, and documents from the bankruptcy of a well-known importer of luxury vehicles from Duisburg. Because the owner of »Auto Beck« had died, and the scrap dealer did not know anything about those parts, nobody could tell us anything serious about this case, when, later the same customer brought an unknown car to the TÜV. This car seemed to be something special and was technically complex indeed. The proof affirmation of this hypothesis was a renowned English manufacturer for classic vehicle restorations being involved!« – »Yes, Mr. Kröger: we are at the same standard of knowledge and all of us can follow your executions!«, Debbie lifted the mood again: »Wouldn’t you better explain to us your concrete initial suspicion instead?« Rainer felt things running and behaved like a professional actor: »We doubt that there wasn’t more money being transferred than declared, Madam!« Coming in on cue, Gordon appeared with a document folder, handed it out to the Investigator, and went off with Debbie shouting: »Thank you, Gordon, applause to Gordon Marsh, Technical Director of The Orchid Classics!«

All the noise around did not seem to disturb Rainer. He was playing according to his reputation, and for the first time, he seemed to like that. After studying every piece of paper, he looked around, smiling at all those amused-looking faces. Some were still laughing, or they laughed because they were looking forward to what was to come next. There was noise from the road behind the house, and some lights turned into the court, just behind the crowd. Three classic race cars stormed in, got one after the other into a spin, and in the twinkling of an eye, they were standing side by side in their parking bays as if they had stood there the whole day. The investigator closed the document folder and acted like an entertainer: »And now, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Local Manta Club!« Bob had problems with listening to their jokes and handling his camera at the same time. Now he could no longer stand the situation: he gave his trainee a sign for substitution and hurried around the corner to the other side of the building, where the Orchid Team was sitting, with Arthur smoking. Now, they were surprised by Bob laughing: »Ha-ha, the Manta Club, ha-ha-ha!«, while the investigator had his last scene in front of Patrick Trehearn’s camera: »O.K., then: Where is this marvelous car ... where is your goddess of the roads!?«

It was almost an explosion, and came from the wash hall with its wide-open doors. The reporters stood, not being told, in a row, and their camera flashlights welcomed the lady in green who was coming down the catwalk. She stopped at the white plastic camping table, and Deborah Hastings lowered the microphone as if to interview her, but at the same moment, the diva stopped singing. There was another voice instead, but it spoke in broken German: »Wo bleibt mein Bier?!«

The crowd stopped talking immediately as a slim older man folded himself out of the low car. He had been famous when most spectators had not been born yet. Nevertheless, he was well known to them. Of course, they were not just spectators but enthusiasts, and Debbie completed the sensation with her performance: »Ladies and Gentlemen, I had just promised you somebody special: a protagonist and a witness of a great time. I must confess that I wasn’t aware of having two of them, but now I’m glad to present somebody who was an example for a generation of race drivers in driving fast and fair. There are not many of that kind left in motorsport, and I’m proud to welcome Sir Moses Stevens!« The crowd cheered and applauded, and Debbie went on: »Sir, as you see, you have not been forgotten, and I’m sure you never will be!« – »Thank you, Madam! But we should forget the »Sir«, if remembering our last session in London, dancing on the pub’s table and getting thrown out by the police, Debbie!« – »Oh no, they didn’t throw us out but brought you home, calling you »Sir«!« – »Yes, and they wondered why you didn’t get out of their car too, but told the »taxi driver« your hotel ... I hope you didn’t give him too much tip!« While Debbie and Moses started something like a new session, Arthur had indeed found some beer and served some other special drinks too, shouting, »To prevent both from dancing on a plastic table, most of this is nonalcoholic. And if they get drunk in every case, we’ll have some wizards to make them vanish: »Ladies and Gentlemen: the famous McKenzies!« Debbie seemed to be snubbed: »If there is someone to welcome famous people, then it’s me: Ladies and Gentlemen: The McKenzies! ... Arthur Lombard! Who do you think you are and who told you to do my job, eh?« Arthur was pleased for the first time, to play a role in front of a camera: »It was you who had told me ... behind the house, just before you started your show! ... and I can tell you who I am: I am the one everybody came to Venlo for ... I am representing the Orchid Classics presently; so, I have the honor to tell you that we own the Green Goddess!« – »Elena Harmann is the owner, didn’t you listen?« – »But we just bought the wonder car; ask the tax man! So, don’t be impolite to our guests: Ladies and Gentlemen, Elena Harmann and her tax investigator!« Elena and Rainer passed the surprised two talk masters and stormed to the table and the four passengers of the three classic cars: »Sir Stevens, did you ever drive the Slimwall Special?« – »We know that you had one of the first victories for the VW-05, and perhaps you were involved in this project too ...!« The veteran smiled politely: »Sorry, I can remember having seen the car, but if I ever drove it, I forgot. In the early sixties, I had an accident, with the result of some headaches later. Since that day, there has been a little hole in my memory. Even my first win on a »Sperimentale« sports car, I cannot remember, but they told me the story, and I read about it.« Debbie enjoyed her show: »What the hell is going on? Do I have nothing to say anymore? Cleo, Wally, and Oliver McKenzie: You don’t look as if the three of you are a different age: are you triplets?« – »No, Debbie!«, answered Oliver: »Cleo and I are twins; Wally has a different name currently, but next month we will marry!« – »And what are you doing here in Venlo?« – »We’ll have a show with Moses at »Old timers Festival« on the Nürburgring, and got a call on the boat from Dorothy; ... well, it’s not so far from Venlo to the Eifel anyway, and we changed the route!« Arthur held a glass in the direction of the camera: »Hi, Dorothy, you got everything under control here and may have a drink too now, cheerio!« Debbie celebrated her business once more: »If the Classics bought the »Special« later, your whole auction was illegal from the start, this morning, Mr. Lombard!« Arthur smiled with satisfaction: »No, it wasn’t! This was an agreement: Elena is my sister!« – »Clan business! Look at this monster of a godfather, pretending to be a shy, solitary man!« Arthur tried to talk in a throaty way: »An Italian Goddess should have her familiar environment, so, »we had to go on the mattresses (The Godfather, movie 1972, Francis Ford Coppola)«! ... But we should elaborate on serious things again, Sir Stevens: you are one of the first drivers to win a British Grand Prix with a British race car!« – »Yes, you are right, but we don’t have to forget my friend Tony, the other driver ... we used the same car in the same race. That was possible in these years!« – »But you had to share the points for this victory, and that again prevented you from winning the championship that year!« – »I wonder if I would feel better now if I had become a champion once. That would have only made me one of many! I prefer to say: I loved my time, and I’m satisfied!« Debbie took Arthur’s beret from his head and sat it on herself, talking to Moses: »After the Vanwall cars had left the scene, you drove for the »Scotsmen«, a private team, winning races with bought cars!« – »Yes, the »Ecurie Whisky« was more than a private team: sometimes, their used bolides had a better performance than the works racing cars.« Arthur took back his hat again: »I remember you winning a race with a last-year model against the whole Formula One elite and else, that it was the same driver who had the first win not only on a Vanwall but for Lotus and Cooper as well, and in front of the works teams!« Stevens answered just with a shy smile ...

The show had its highlight with Stevens skidding the GT-40 out of the parking bay by using only the throttle and leading a small convoy to the A73 for the South.

Debbie was a little disappointed: »It’s only a little more than a hundred kilometers to Mutter Wehner, but he must drive well over two hundred to Adenau because the room in »Zum Wilden Schwein« is already paid. This fellow worked a little too long for the Scotsmen!« Paddy jumped to Bob, saving the equipment from falling because of Bob’s usual heavy laughter. The broadcast crew had already decided to come with Elena and Arthur, and everything had been made clear by Elena’s telephone call to Germany. Perhaps Debbie had changed her mind because she missed dancing on pub tables. On the other hand, she wouldn’t miss her beauty sleep, and she was sure to do her press issue anyway, as long as there was a web connection in Oer-Erkenschwick ...#

Elena held her visual connection to the green goddess, following the broadcast van, while Vincent was singing in his typical way. Rainer liked the song and wanted to say something nice about Vincent: »Six cylinders in a row, sounding like a contrabass in a cozy doll’s house, and a chassis, made on the Island ...« Elena looked at him with a mischievous smile: »Sorry, we have to disappoint you! This is a TR6, and the car body is from Karmann in Osnabrück! His brothers and sisters have an Italian father. His name is Michelotti!« Rainer wasn’t disappointed but amazed: »Nothing’s like it seems to be, just like everything in your family: the name »Arthur« reminds me of an old saga ... are you Morgana, his half-sister? You told me you are half-siblings, didn’t you?« – »Morgana? ... I’m not Morgana! If there is any Morgana, she sits in Hampshire at the telephone and talks herself into her next nervous breakdown. When she is on fire, there’s nothing that can stop her ... She’s the Lady of the Lake without having a lake; her fairies are a gang of gone-crazy poison gnomes protecting a bunch of orchids ... No, my love, I’m not Morgana but Cundrie who cursed you for not having asked the right question; now, I introduce you to the Grail for having asked the right question ... I am Cundrie as long as you are Parsifal! At one point, you are right: I show you my world ... a strange world!«

»... and, perhaps she will make you the King of the Grail tonight!« Bob's side note caused a slow reaction, beginning with Debbie’s giggle and ending in big laughter in the dining room of »Mutter Wehner«. Of course, it was not the Table Round of Camelot with Arthur at the front. He sat between his crew, telling them that he was sorry his best mechanics had been absent for breakfast at Dorothy’s because they had to wait for the Tiger Moth in the morning. But Paddy argued, »The breakfast at Thruxton wasn’t bad either!« He was called »Paddy« because he was Irish-born, and the same with »Taffy«: he was from Wales, and nobody used their original names, and they were proud of being called like this by the Tommies. But the rest was not just Tommy! There was Geordie, coming from Newcastle, and the other was Cockney. But Cockney didn’t like to be called so. London Bridge had already fallen from her view. For a long time, the Orchids had a »Jock« too, but he had gone back to Scotland again.

Bob was in the mood: »Do you know the difference between heaven and hell in our new Europe? Heaven means we’ll have German engineers, French cooks, British policemen, Italian lovers, and Swiss organizers. In hell, there will be French engineers, German policemen, British cooks, Swiss lovers, and Italian organizers!« Through the laughter, Debbie’s voice was heard: »I’m glad that Switzerland did not join the EU!«, and it was Bob’s trainee who reacted: »Nevertheless, you will go to hell! They call it »Globalization«!« Arthur was confused: »What’s wrong with British cooking? ... Dorothy ...« Elena and Debbie couldn’t stop laughing: »A Westphalian lover of the English kitchen! You’re suffering from taste confusion!« – »Do you believe Dorothy’s menu card?« You never got anything from that, what’s written there! Did you ever hear of »Mediterranean meals«?«

The jokes went on, and the room was filled with noise, although Bob’s laughter had been noisy enough to fill it. Only Rainer became quieter. He looked at Elena, and finally, he asked his question: »If everything we have here is the result of your Plan »B«, what’s the difference from Plan »A«?« She answered after another long kiss: »If you look back, you can’t find a difference because life has no plan B for us! And we love our life when we have something good and lasting ... perhaps a gift. Such a gift, we call »Present Perfect« because we can take it to what we call »here and now«. Nobody knows the future, and the past contains everything we have lost. That’s why we call it »Imperfect« or even »Past Perfect« when it’s too late anyway!« Rainer was sure: this young woman was at least as crazy as her brother. She seemed happy with that, and he felt happy at her side. He had never dared to live as she did, and before this very day, he had been convinced by the words of Anton Chekhov: »There is no happiness but the yearning for happiness!« And there was whispering again when he asked her, »What does happiness mean for you?«, and she whispered back, »*The only happiness in life is to love and be loved(*George Sand, novel: Leila, 1833)!«#

Summa cum laude?

»Amantine Aurore Lucile Dupin de Francueil was a great author and philosopher. Perhaps she was the literary Frédéric Chopin, and perhaps they once had a good time together. I’m sure I made a mistake, to mention Chopin because he was a man. I noticed that men are not welcome during this kind of lesson, above all, as a good example at all. For the same reason, it seems impertinent to talk about the men at the side of great women ... whether Virginia Woolf, Simone de Beauvoir, Amelia Earhart, or Alzbeta Junkowa alias Elizabeth Junek. But I’m sure these women are no useful figureheads for quite a corrupt politics anyway. Everything those mentioned women wanted was an equal life in any part of it. Equal doesn’t mean standing higher or being someone better! Even the probably loneliest of them was supported by a man at her side who did anything he could for her. The last words of Virginia Woolf were written to her husband. She thanked him for his love and his loyalty. And finally, she asked him to forgive her decision to die. If it is possible to define people of the past, I want to try it with: Those women had no variable aim. You can’t fight your demons by calling them common demons. Free human beings don’t need your public enemies to be free!« Sarah Rubenstein’s reaction to the announcements of other students caused a new argument: »It is nothing but our damn duty to make a revolution against all these old white men. We will fulfill everything they forgot to demand in the revolutions of the past. That’s the only way to a free and human world ... A world with men who have changed ... or without men!« – »And the important children for this new world will be girls, delivered by »Sister Adebar« the stork!« Sally’s last words made the Prof. feel uncomfortable, which was written on her face. But soon she showed her amusement again and let the discussion go on. That girl was brilliant, somehow ... and she went on: »The Amazons did not vanish by surrendering at war but because of having to pay for sex and killing their baby sons ... I guess they simply had gone bankrupt! And what you are doing here is fascism! »Fascism is the counter-revolution to a revolution that never took place!« .... Ignazio Silone meant that ...« – »Are we talking about Italian Western Cinema now? I can’t believe it ...« – »No, we don’t! Or did I say »Sergio Leone«? But you’re right on one point: the counter-revolution sometimes begins with »Since 5:45 in the morning we’re shooting back!« The prof. felt forced to interrupt her now: »All the students in this hall have been looking forward to meeting a young woman who is a commanding officer in the US Air Force. They expected you, in your words, as a figurehead for feminism. So please be as kind as to tell us something about your struggle against a man’s world, accompanied by the spirit of other women on your side ... women who had your power: Amelia Earhart or even Marie Curie, for instance. We all came to listen to something like this!« Sally felt a little ashamed for a moment, but her actual resistance was stronger: »I’m sorry, Madam, I’m not a feminist; I’m an officer like any Air Force officer! If you want to be successful, you have to struggle ... sometimes because of being a woman and sometimes because of being a man ... this, and all the rest, depends on accidents of birth! In worst cases, it’s a struggle against lobbies and all those opportunists who always want to take any advantage of anything, because feeling strong means feeling to be right! ... and the bad and wrong ones are always the others!« The Prof. had some trouble keeping to her subject theme: »I cannot remember any Air Force officer having absolved more than 1000 flight hours, being 25 years of age, and being a woman; that’s why I invited you! And, please don’t call me »Madam« ... that makes me old. If you cannot remember my name, please call me Professor, which matches our common situation, My Child!« This biting remark did not reach the expected level of laughter as a public reaction, and Sally’s reaction was prompt: »Everyone on the campus knows the name Professor Alicia Adams; why should I forget it? ... and please don’t call me »My Child« because I’m feeling too old for that. If you cannot remember my name, please call me Captain; that matches my uniform, as you can see! And I don’t want to be compared with Marie Curie! Maria Sklodowska Curie was a scientist in physics. A scientist, just like Doctor Alicia Adams, Nils Bohr, or Albert Einstein. It’s not our place to appreciate scientists. They are to be appreciated by mighty nations. When scientists play together with politicians, we get the opposite of a human world. »Ones make impossible things possible, and the others make possible things impossible«, Bertrand Russell said. Marie Curie once confessed, »Things do matter to scientists, but no human things«, and Albert Einstein quoted Arthur Schopenhauer in a self-treacherous way: »We can do what we want, but we can’t wish what we want«. Scientists and politicians cannot save this world because they cannot dream. And so, I prefer talking about people like Maria Montessori, Bertha von Suttner, Florence Nightingale, Hannah Arendt, Ray Stannard Baker, or Martin Luther King!« The discussion started again: »Didn’t Maria Montessori have the same destructive will that Schopenhauer described?« – »I am glad you understood Schopenhauer; sure, Montessori had a strong will ... but the will to humanity means the risk of being the only victim of the following destruction. With more humanity, there will be less destruction!« – »Isn’t science something to make a better world?« – »You think the world gets carried on the shoulders of some few but graduated Titans? The world always changes; currently, because curious creatures do curious things; and all knowledge about everything does not prevent from experiencing the end of all things!« - »You mean: »The end of all Things« by Immanuel Kant?« - »That’s not the worst example, I would prefer: »Trying to reach cognition most precisely, means renouncing all the little important moments of life«. Our intellect is the last born in this physical world ... And since that moment we had to make decisions about how we want to live!« – »And which philosopher did you rob now?« – »I didn’t rob the philosopher; I only stole the translation. The thought comes from Lou Andreas-Salomé!« – »A lap-dancing drag queen?« – »No, but a great poet and one of the best psychoanalysts of her time, together with Sigmund Freud ...I thank you all for this conversation!« The expected question came as Sarah went slowly to the lecture hall’s exit: »Why did you become an Air Force pilot? You’re controlling an armed jet; is that humanity?« Sally answered by walking: »You’re right, I’m no positive example in any case, and I must confess: I became a fighter pilot because I got this chance and had nothing else to do at that moment!« Someone shouted: »Macho!« and the officer turned around smiling: »Are you serious? ... But if I think about your new world, it couldn’t come better: machos must go straight to the front of the war, women who have equal rights do this by their own choice ... Maybe I’ll get my women’s rights back after having died being a macho: you can put me in a special grave as a symbol for feminists, shouting, »We are unknown women soldiers now!« Having been civil victims of war for thousands of years, you are double victims then and not only dead like any other male soldier: you can say once more that women can do everything better, they even die better!« One of the students got up like a bullet out of the rifle. Her eyes were filled with anger, and no one should ever witness what she wanted to say, except the beginning: »And you are a macho! As long as people like you celebrate the oldest tragedy of human beings ...!« She could not say more because she was interrupted by the captain at once: »No conversation at eye level begins with: »As long as you do or have something!« ... No honest deal and no well-meaning advice need those fucking words of an insidious lawyer. As long as people prefer to rule rather than to understand, the truth is nothing but the current most popular lie. I know this wasn’t at eye level either, and it should not be, because I won’t celebrate this farce together with you. Goodbye!

Professor Adams ended her lecture and wished secretly that all that desk knocking was for the leaving captain, but she couldn’t imagine it.#

Ray Stannard Rubenstein had been waiting behind the always-open door to Alicia Adams’ lecture hall. Now he stood under the big chestnut tree, waving to his daughter. Sally was surprised: »Daddy! What’s happened?!« – »Nothing serious, My Child!« – »You better call her Captain; she might get dangerous!« Ray turned to the approaching tutor: »Did I promise too much?« – »Not at all, I got shot into pieces by a rocket!« Sally wondered why the Prof. had followed her, and now she was surprised about her and her father knowing each other: »You ...?!« – »Oh, yes, my captain, Alicia isn’t only a scientist and your dean!« her father joked. – »We sometimes work together!« the Prof. hurried to add. »So, I had better leave you alone ...« – »Oh no, my dear, I was coming to you!« Daddy’s voice had a strange sound, and Sally hesitated for a moment. Then she went on, »O.K., but Professor, please wait a minute, I’ve got something for you!« The small captain hurried to the parking bays near the campus. Ray began hesitantly: »Martha and I would prefer ...« – »No, only on this way! It was your decision, but under my terms and conditions!«

Sally had returned and presented something to the surprised-looking professor: »A present for me?« – »Yes, I found it in a junk shop and liked it. Please don’t be offended; I don’t mean that!«

Sally and Ray had said goodbye to her and walked into the park. The professor unwrapped a metal plate with the writing: »Everybody knew: this is impossible. Then someone came, not knowing but just doing it.« She felt something coming up inside. She wouldn’t let it into her head. She would fight it again because this wasn’t only disturbing but also hurting and frightening.

»Do you feel happy here?« Ray’s words did not match the expression on his face, and Sally noticed that he could not do it better. She decided to wait, and responded to his question: »Oh, yes, I do... It’s very nice here ... not as exciting as on the air base, but very interesting!« – »... And the boys? ... do you have a friend ...?« – »Oh, no! Some are looking good, but I don’t know what’s coming next ... I won’t try to settle down ... and at least there will be Dave. We have a loose relationship, but he is my friend!« – »The mechanic on the base? ...« – »Yes, he’s a mechanic, and I am a pilot; that is different ...« - You are a squadron leader!« She shrugged her shoulders: »We live differently and do not depend on each other. That’s what I need: showing love and respect to someone living in a different world and receiving the same from him. This is the most honest relationship I can imagine, even if we should never meet again. He once told me: » Trying to lead a perfect life makes the mistake only bigger!«.« Ray Stannard Rubenstein looked more sorrowful than before: »Are you happy with your life? ... Wouldn’t it be better to have studied something special or to have stayed at anything you have already been educated in? Wouldn’t you like to finish any subject at this university and throw your hat into the air on the last day?« Sally stopped: »Daddy! Tell me, what’s wrong with you? I got everything I wished for from my childhood on ... more than other children could ever have or do. And I know what it means to be »highly gifted.« That’s something like »high functioning«, and that means to be handicapped on the other hand. Did you and Mum think I didn’t know that? I’m not stupid ... oh, that’s not true ... I am stupid! ... talking stupid things all the time and noticing it when it’s too late! ... Because of my social handicap! Both of you always gave me your love and wisdom to feel like a human being, but most of the time, I think I’d better keep my mouth shut ... in seven languages and four different German dialects ... It’s not your fault but mine; but, I can’t help it.« It was the 25-year-old fighter pilot with more than 1000 flight hours who put her arm around a sad man who had never felt older than on this day: »I’m okay, I promise! Please tell me what you have to tell me!« - »My child ... Captain: I came to tell you that you have finished your education, and you will have your first mission! You will go to Europe ... to Hampshire in the South of England ... and you will be on your own.«#

His child had left ... No, she had nearly jumped away, looking forward to her mission and waving with the big envelope she had gotten from him and the order not to open it yet. There was no problem with that. She never had any problems with technical instructions, and she was one of the best fighter pilots. They would meet again at home in the evening to celebrate this great day ... He slowly walked to the park bench and sat down with a deep sigh. The old woman on the bench did not look at him: »Isn’t it careless to sit down without observing the situation ... Are you going old, Special Agent Merlin?« The »old man« wasn’t surprised about getting addressed by a professor disguised as an old woman: »I’m tired of being careful, and I don’t care about getting old, Chief Agent Liberty! We are used to doing dubious things year after year ... And after that, we ask ourselves in what a world we’re living!« – »We’re doing our duty!« – »Was it our duty to endanger this wonderful girl? It is our duty to protect her ... even against this questionable world!« Alicia noticed his hand moving into his jacket and immediately opened her handbag. She knew the CIA demanded loyalty from the agents, even if their missions were inhuman. She didn’t know what loyalty meant for a single agent. Ray took out a pack of cigarettes and offered it to the Chief, but she preferred one of hers with filters. She looked up, breathing out the smoke: »We cannot use Sarah. She is not able to do anything without her own decision. This is no international operation but a private consequence: her first mission will be her last. We send her to Paradise, and ....« Alicia felt the barrel of a Ruger in her side, just over her hip, and listened to the agent’s words: »Before you make this child an angel, I’ll send you to hell; you must be a monster!« Alicia’s voice was calm and without any fear: »If you want to kill me, you should hurry: There’s nobody on the campus. You once saved my life, and if you take it now, I had some extra years ... I can live with that ... oh, sorry, that was wrong!« She started to laugh ...: »But I demand that you stop calling me a monster! Do you indeed believe I could kill her or let her be killed?« He hesitantly answered, »We are agents of the CIA, and you have always been able to examine my loyalty ... So, could I do the same in your case? And you once gave her away like a toy doll! Who should know what's coming next?« The Chief was stunned: »You know why I had to give her away and who got her: two people who couldn’t have children and were prepared to give anything for her growing up and her protection! Only look at what you are doing at this damn very moment. Haven’t I been right?« She opened her handbag again without any care about the pistol still pressing in her loin and took out a tissue. Before she blew her nose, there was another »click« to hear again while the Ruger was removed, with Ray saying, »Sorry: I was ready to kill you, but I never wanted to hurt you!« The Chief laughed once more: »I think you have problems with your text, Hamlet: the readiness is all, but the rest is silence!« – »No, I had a problem with the question before: »To be or not to be ...« – »And you never killed anyone! You can’t kill, Mr. Ray Stannard Baker!« – »Who do you mean, the right hand of President Woodrow Wilson?« – »Exactly! The right hand of the greatest but most unlucky president of the USA, who tried everything to protect our land from the First World War. He was one of the first to have the idea of what we call UNO today, and the Kaiser-German submarines sank ship after ship with American passengers on board. At last, the deciphered »Zimmermann Telegram« changed Wilson’s mind. Baker was one of the first to fight racism in America. Wilson and Baker had been at the wrong place at the wrong time because they were too good for this world!« Agent Merlin pushed up his eyebrows: »Do you think I’m the wrong man for time and place, either?« – »Mostly not, but sometimes!« – »I understand: you’re talking about »Operation Ulysses« ... Yes, I was not successful at that time, and I did not even try to get the documents! I only enjoyed those happy years of protecting them instead of robbing.« – »They are your friends?« Merlin nodded without a word but caught her pensive look as she went on: »They have been my friends too, and ... and I must tell you something: I didn’t steal those papers either ... Albert himself allowed me to look at them before he threw them into the fire. I could read everything I needed, and he knew I would copy it out of my memory ... Every word and every fucking sketch. Back home, I told the Chief something different. I never understood why I had to steal technical plans of an obsolete spy jet. Our engineers probably had developed something similar anyway. Later, I knew these details were the missing part for developing the following high-speed planes up to space travel.« Merlin smiled: »You were too young to know the complete story ... just as old as Sally is now! British engineers knew how to build fast airplanes, but their developments had been sold, step by step, and behind their backs. In the end, some foreign authorized folks came along and took the entire jet. Those British manufacturers had been consolidated into a single concern, which was subsequently closed due to financial difficulties. This way, the fastest spy jet disappeared from the scene. Some of those British engineers may have been warned, and they had destroyed their last evolutions or let them vanish together with some parts and spares, just in time. They even replaced the heat exchangers in the finished airplane and switched the construction plans as well. Finally, the constructors of fast airplanes became constructors of fast racing cars. But we knew where to search. One of them lived near Thruxton. You and I have been involved in an evil operation that made you a chief agent, having paid the highest price for a bloody job: the betraying of good friends!« – »And you risked your life to rescue a monster.« – »Eh, ... that’s not true!« – »Okay, you took back the monster, thank you!« Ray looked ashamed: »The other part of the sentence is not true: I never saved your life! The day you called for the cavalry, you described the suspect man, and I doubted that he was someone from the KGB. I looked around in Popplebush and found that man. His name was Vasily Valaitis, alias »Agent Korsakov«, and he worked for us ... And sometimes he pretended to work for the KGB. He usually came to check strategic places after operations and searched for leaks. He was the best man for blurring traces; his reports were excellent! I wondered why he was there: it was a big self-made sloppiness by the headquarters. Nobody had informed me, and if he had been someone else, it might have ended in a catastrophe. I knew him well, and he told me that he had been sent to organize your departure at the end of your mission. But he had already noticed a group of mysterious people, too: Americans together with Germans, and some of them were scientists. They did not only know what they were looking for but even used the name »Dr. Moore« in a talking ... What we did then was a big show, planned by Korsakov ... He liked you and Sophie so much and was glad you were alone in England this time ... So, we put you into your Piper and sent you to Bitburg. From the moment you had taken off from Thruxton, we played war, shooting with blank cartridges. After that, we fired sharply into the wooden barracks to leave some projectiles for demonstration. We never met the group of fascists again, and your plane had disappeared ... together with you and »your little daughter. « - »Haven’t there been any witnesses, no police?«- »Yes, it was planned to have spectators, but not too many ... To Korsakov’s crew belonged a young university tutor for forensics who managed to close the roads to Thruxton for all the rest, and tricked the bureaucracy by starting at tea time ... All the information the police finally got was the order not to disturb the folks from MI5 doing their duty. There were some local firemen in Duncan’s team, a steward from the racetrack, and even a reverend ... all disguised as constables, and they collected the blank cartridges too, later ...

Coming home again, after some weeks, I went straight to the headquarters. The secretary told me to contact the university dean. I had expected something like this, but not yet... And the dean opened the office door before I could knock on it... the dean was you! ... The little girl sat on the floor in a little blue skirt ...« Alicia had to use her tissue again: »I will never forget this day ... I tried to award you for special achievement; she crawled to you and got up, holding herself with one arm around your leg and reaching up the other hand, as if to grab the silver shining medal. You took the medal off my hands, closed the needle, and covered it with some tape from my desk. Then you took the little girl on your arm and gave her the medal. It was the beginning of a wonderful friendship ... Sorry, Humphrey Bogart!« Ray added, »She still has this medal and never gave it back ... that’s okay, I never deserved an award.«

After some time of quietness, Alicia looked up again, straight into Ray’s face: »You cannot kill, I said, didn’t I?« – »And you ... did you ...?« –» No!« ... – »And did you ever order to ...?« – »NO, I’M NOT A MONSTER! And my department was never involved in that kind of business; did you ever witness something, or have you ever been involved?! ... But ... what did you mean when you said that you awaited Kellermann to leave his position as chief? It sounded so.« – »This Mafia boss was bankrupt, and I knew it because I made him broke! ... Sometime before Operation Ulysses, I had Operation Whisky. The meaning of whisky is »the water of life«! And that’s what Kellermann had in mind: speculating with drinking water. He sent me to New Mexico, where three small communes had gotten themselves into debt because of building waterworks. Most of the families had borrowed money for it, and Kellermann and his companions had borrowed money for buying the loan shares from the communes’ bank. Now he wanted to exploit their debts and blackmail the villages. They had the choice of paying back the debt according to credit contracts, including every paid dollar, or losing their waterworks. The only offer was to annul the credit, sell the waterworks to the consulting firm, and have some money, but pay for the water consumption. My mission was to control the process, using violence if necessary. Instead of doing this, my crew of specialists gained the confidence of the people living there. Our geologist went to the Reverend, who was something like their chieftain. By studying the blueprints, he recognized a mistake: they once had the option between two drilling fields, one on a hill and one, some lower. The deeper field, however, was above a smaller water reservoir and had no connection to the bigger one beneath the upper hill. This is possible if you have rocky ground. But the waterworks stood in the valley. Those hillbillies had chosen the wrong field, and it could be expected to dry out in some years.

Now the banker of our group began to calculate and telephoned for one day and one night. When we went home, I had the sale documents of every participant in my suitcase, together with local newspapers reporting about Mafia gangs who terrorize small communities and blackmail the owners of waterworks. The new owners of these waterworks now sold the water to the former owners and let them work for them ... for less than half a year, when the new waterworks had been finished and the old works had lost all customers and all the employees. So, they had to be sold back for very little money! Later, I met the geologist again, and he told me that his research had been wrong: the two waterworks still get their water from the same lake under the villages! But he asked me not to tell the Reverend. Because the man is so happy making jokes about mistakes in construction plans!«

The professor laughed happily. Suddenly she stopped, her face getting pale: »Ray! ... I’m sitting on your armchair leading the department, don’t I?« ... Now the agent laughed: »Oh no! This uncomfortable furniture is nothing to me, and I would never pay the price for it. You had already paid it before being able to take a look, first!« - »... But ... but you deserve more than a shabby medal!« – »What does a father deserve who leaves his child at the access of the highway to hell?« – »The same award that I deserve, having sold my soul to the devil ... But we couldn’t do anything else to help her ... It was her own decision, and you know what happens if she decides on something: nothing can stop her!« – »Sometimes I curse the day she met Dan and Carroll at Laguna Seca Raceway. It was the day after her closing party of high school, and she loved watching motor racing ...« – »I know, and I was there that day, belonging to the organization staff!« Ray was caught by surprise: »I didn’t know ... so, it might be right ... I guessed they were sent by you!« – »So, I sent Dan and Carroll to persuade Sarah to do this all? I didn’t even know that Carroll had been a plane pilot before! And so, you think I made him advise her to join the CIA if she wanted to become everything: driving races, flying airplanes, and constructing cars? ... I was there, and I was listening: that was a joke, a fucking joke, but taken as seriously by a teenager ... I can’t believe it, you are still calling me a monster!« – »Well, I know, there are people who love these kinds of jobs even being not aware of that and ...« – »And I am such a masochist, just like an undead having been Dracula’s victim before becoming a vampire myself, eh? Do you want to tell me this? ... But I must confess: it looks like that ... I supported her education and blurred the traces to my person by using my position.... That was the only way to protect her ...!« Merlin had a bad conscience. He tried to say something nice, but he had some problems with that: »Sorry, Ma’am, I don’t think badly of you. Sometimes I don’t think at all ... It’s just an impulse ...« The chief slowly calmed down: »You’re a good man, Ray Stannard Rubenstein ... a lousy agent, but a good man. If ever someone would ask me something about friends, I would first say your and your wife’s names ... as long as the questioner is not a spy! You’re someone like Jock: the evening he showed me the papers, he thanked me for my friendship and for not having done any ugly things. This was after Andrew had died and Albert had decided to leave his company. His last words to me were, »I hid those documents being a patriot. Now I give them away, being a patriot. Patriotism is the love of one's own!«#

French Connection

... and nationalism means to hate the others, Monsieur le Gendarme!« Arthur was angry, and his reaction to the behavior of this policeman did nothing to make the situation better. This man had wanted to inspect the car boot, and, after having been told to look into the space occupied with two backpacks and a roll of packing paper between the seats and the »petrol tank, he had shouted out that, being a patriot, he »would not let myself be turned on by some English and German braggarts ... not by any Germans at all!« Now he commented on Arthur´s contradiction, showing a dangerous smile: »Of course: Germans, poets, and fascists ... Where has your great philosopher been during the two world wars?« Arthur was glad to answer and could not hide smiling himself either: »Yes, he was a philosopher, an author, a statesman, and a fighter pilot as well: His name was Romain Gary.« Like a cigarette, the uniformed patriot had just taken a pencil between his lips, while his hands searched his body for his writing pad. Listening to Arthur, he did not notice his pencil falling. He did not even notice it rolling to Gordon’s shoe and getting offered by him with another smile. But he listened to Arthur’s question: »Where do I have to go without being despised as a German? What the hell is so typical?« The gendarme was glad to change the theme on the keyword: »Try it in Germany ... They will despise you for being anything, but not a German ... wearing this Che Guevara cap ... I had one in the late sixties; after that time, I would rather not be confused with a Basque ... Wearing this cap and not being an artist or an old man makes people suspicious ... But the late sixties were a damn good time, although it was a wrong dream. I’m sorry, Gentlemen, I thought you were English snobs; »the German« was only another option ... I did not forget Romain Gary ... or Jean Seberg. Two victims of a terrifying world order ...« Arthur was confused, but at least he calmed down this way: »Monsieur ... didn’t anybody tell you that your uniform is a symbol of this, as you say, terrifying world order? Why did you pick this career?« The gendarme did not smile but laughed: »I see, you’re still living in that past, and I promise to give you an answer. But first, we should care for the night ... I’m sure you’re looking for a hotel, and I can offer the only one in this area!« And looking down the road to the approaching service car, he added, »Your escort has arrived!«

The Flic got on his bicycle and guided a funny formation of vehicles into the center of the village. Then they took a dead-end street to a former estate, surrounded by an old wall. It was still a farm, but most buildings had other functions than those they had once been made for. The grounds of this old manor now held a hotel, school, administration, supermarket, and pharmacy. A crowd of children stormed to the cars, making noise and touching the vehicles without anyone trying to prevent this. The smile of the Flic was honest now: he was aware that those «étrangers» liked children. So did he, and he demonstrated it: »Messieurs, this was my only motivation to become a policeman: I wanted to stay in a farmer’s village in which only one family can be farmers: the family of my brother! I live in this village with him, my sister, and our families. Three of those dirty midgets are mine and my wife’s.« – »And he always forgets that it’s the mother to be a parent first!« Together with others, a much younger woman had joined the group and was introduced by Maurice: »Gentlemen, this is my wife Madeleine, my sister Ines, my brother Gilbert, his wife ...«

The Orchid Crew could not believe it: they had crossed France without being noticed, and this little village in the South knew everything about them and their mission! Now they were guided into the guest room of the bar. Madeleine went straight to Arthur: »We awaited you and your team, but did not know when you would arrive, so we should hurry now! My cousin called me from Clermont-Ferrand. You had asked for the most beautiful roads down to Dijon ... well, the most beautiful road goes straight through our village! I hope you enjoyed Maurice welcoming you. He loves to joke so much!« Arthur repeated ... »Joke!?«, while his teammates couldn’t hide their laughter. Margot, the Farm Lady, meddled: »He wanted to inspect the car trunk, didn’t he?!« The Flic pretended to look angry and made a dismissive gesture. Through everyone’s laughter, Gilbert could be heard. He said something about Tour de France d’Automobiles, Jean Behra, Maurice Trintignant, and «Arrêtez, ouvrir les coffres!» Maurice shouted, «Vous êtes tous arrêtez!» And the common reaction was: «Bravo! ... Magnifique!» ... This seemed to be the gendarme’s typical way of inviting everyone for a drink.

After «À votre santé!», into the round, Maurice dedicated himself to the four British: »Well, my friends, are you married too?« Madeleine shouted: «Maurice!», and the Flic caught the damp cloth thrown by his wife, with the words: »You have to be fast when you are married! By the way, we have a woman’s surplus here and a closed garage and no mechanic ...« and, after having not been fast enough this time, he took the next flying cloth out of his face and added, »Did I mention there’s a woman’s surplus in this village?«

A young woman sat at a long table next to an old man, doing some art with some children. The children called her Claudette, and the old man called her «Mon Ange». The old man was Maurice’s grandfather and was called «Grand-Père» by the children. Most of the adults, however, said, «Patron». Claudette was not related to anyone in the village. She was the only teacher here, and that was just for the young children, and after school, she was a kind of communal babysitter. She was also called «La Mairesse» because she did every administration left behind by the other members of the village council, including the gendarme, the doctor, the pharmacist, and «Le Pasteur». At weekly council meetings in the bar, Claudette was used to starting with a declaration of the situation and some advice in her own, modest way, followed by wild discussions, and Claudette saying or doing nothing but writing. After voting, the result usually matched her finished protocol. Claudette loved her life: she loved children and knew the people ... wasn’t Plato, demanding having leaders who did not request anything for themselves? Behind le Patron and la Mairesse there was a big photograph hanging on the wall: Maurice Trintignant in his winning Ferrari 625 at Monaco 1955; the bottles of red wine on the shelf above this picture joined the scene, showing the label «Le Pétoulet». Trintignant had this nickname since the first post-war race at Bois de Boulogne in September 1945. The engine of his twelve-year-old Bugatti T51 had been stalled because some rats had left their excrement in the air supply of the carburetors. The story of Pétoulet and the production of wine was a part of his life history, and his friendship with the father of «Maurice le Flic», who had been an excellent mechanic, took another part of it. But Maurice himself had never seen his father because he had been killed in the last days of the War before Maurice was born.

«Le Patron» had his second Calvados and got up from the table: «Alors, Mes Amis! Nous attendons les convives anglais et la voiture magnifique! «Terminées cette comédie, au travail!» Maurice did not laugh this time, nor did anyone else. They mostly laughed when they talked about him or even when they called him «Patron». This time it was different: He was right ... at least in some way. So, the Flic marched outside, including everyone else, even the «convives anglais» to prepare «la grande fête», and the Orchid crew was proud to be involved.

While everybody was busy transporting tables, installing lights, cooking, and laying dishes, a green car, having been freed of its hardtop, left the court and came back to start its tour again ... constantly changing its driver and the four children, two on the shotgun and two on the back of the car body with the petrol tank under them and having their legs in the space behind the seats. Every scene was joined by changing photographers.

After everything had been prepared to welcome them, the British team took showers and changed clothes. At the same time, their protégé was placed at the entrance to the estate. The goddess was already cleaned and wore her «Toit» again, and her bonnet was covered with a colored sheet. The children had perpetuated their little hands, names, and the big letters: BIEN VENUE DÉESSE TESTA VERDA!

Arthur’s teammates had a special table together with the other young people, especially some good-looking single ladies, and Maurice was glad to have had this idea. Having placed Arthur next to the Mairesse and both seated opposite herself and her family at the long table had been the result of Madeleine’s management. Arthur had to answer many questions, asked in French and mostly translated by Claudette or Madeleine. Maurice explained his restraint: »Those girls are better in translation because they are better at talking at all: no wonder if someone uses twenty words with only ten being necessary. People who do that can do much worse things.« And raising the only left cloth into the air, he laughed, »Confiscated, Mesdames!« But he had forgotten to confiscate the fish. He used the cloth to clean up his face and shouted into the laughing round, «Voila, j’ai raison!» Then he turned to Arthur again: »Look at me, that’s my destiny: I repair roofs, tractors, and faucets, and help to harvest like any others. But subsequently, I’m the bloody Flic again! But the imperium strikes back!« With his last words, Maurice gave the fish to the cats, which were always creeping around his feet, and he did not care about any protests coming from his wife. Then he talked further to Arthur as if nothing had happened: »Our village is truly interested in your big TV show. This is different from all that daily rubbish! ... Two and a half million pounds from the Barca family ... What are you going to do with all that money?« Arthur reacted with surprise: »What do you think I am going to do? First: The deal has not been finished. And when it’s done, and everything around will have gotten paid, the remaining money gets to the Orchid Classics ... Well, the money is a good result for us so early in the season, but my income, I will see at the end of the year. Our family never took out any money from the capital of the works, and we are not an LLC! So, I live by selling or buying houses or grounds to or from the Orchids, just according to surplus or the opposite. That means having variable capital for our manufacturing on an upper level, but no variable conditions for our employees, partners, or customers. At first view, our marketing does not look different from modern businesses, even though we have a different philosophy: we don’t try to save taxes or wage payments this way, but do everything according to our conscience and to honor the name Albert Lombard. All we have to do is use old social thoughts that were used in many European countries before they got plundered by business barbarians. We are socialists, but having a queen!« – »Yes, your Elizabeth ...« – »No, our Dorothy! Dorothy Willow, the Witch ...!« – »The Witch of Brussels!«, Claudette completed Arthur’s sentence, struck with awe: »But, if you run an autonomic social system, and your commune depends on it, ... aren’t you living in a kind of small state of your own, this way? Who protects you against those business barbarians or even the authorities who have changed their business order? ... Your queen?« - »Yes, as long as we are the goose that lays golden eggs, and she manages us not to be slaughtered! And our constable protects us against any other enemy. He first represents our community and then England. That’s why we have a queen of our own!« Everybody laughed because of Arthur’s typical British way of joking ... everybody, except Arthur. Madeleine caressed her husband, saying, »We are satisfied with our gendarme too, but every so often we cannot resist turning him on.«

The young folks at the table in the dark corner had armed themselves with musical instruments for a jam session. Catherine, a music student, played violin, and there was a guitar and a harmonica. Paddy sang »*Dirty Old Town« and »*The Town I Loved So Well«. Everyone was enjoying the show, and when he gave »*The Wild Rover(*The Dubliners)«, all the guests clapped their hands for musical accompaniment, and some were surprised that the German song »An der Nordseeküste« in English was sung. That did not matter as long as most French did not understand both texts.

After several Irish, Scottish, and French songs had been sung, most of the inspired public was getting tired, and they started to clean up the dishes and prepare the place for the next day. After this, some gathered with the young people still sitting in the dark. Only the green car was glittering in the light of a street lantern. Arthur was asking himself if there could be any problem with leaving without his crew in the morning, and he decided that there was no problem, as long as they would do the last car checkup. The other difficulty was Claudette: he was frightened to be left alone with her by the others, so he had left earlier to help with cleaning up. Before going into the house, he watched Maurice and Madeleine standing hugged in the place. Arthur was sure he would never want to trade places with the gendarme, but he also was convinced that this fellow was loved. #

Things that matter

»I hate him! I hate this irresponsible bloke! All day I wait for a sign of life; where do these idiots drive around?« Dorothy was, in Debbie's words, »back in top form«. John smiled and was glad to have his »Birmingham Small Arm« on the other side of the bar doing their verbal target practice: »You worry too much! Be glad we don't have no closing time . If it wasn't for running your pub, you'd be sitting in some corner, having used up all your curses for your »Armleuchter«. You always rant about him when you're worried about him ... He promised to contact you tomorrow from Lausanne. So why do you think he'll do anything else... now?« - »Because I'm worried, now!« - »You care more about your problem child than anyone else, for example, me!« What followed next was also »BSA«: with her classic elegance, she moved to the other side of her bar. She stopped right in front of the bobby. She kissed his forehead, and as he closed his eyes, she just put his police cap on his head and laughed like a child ...

»What a romantic scene!« The voice came from the guest room behind them. They knew whose voice it was, and Dorothy acted immediately: she took the hat back and put it on herself, turned around in a quick motion, and pressed her hands on her hips, with the effect that the police cap slipped over her eyes. Rob van Leuven laughed, »That's my Doro!« Doro rushed to her doctoral advisor and jumped into his arms, »My dear old owl! ... How long have you been sitting here and not saying a word?«- »Since the moment you wished to kill the »Bonehead«, just again!« I'm glad to see you two so happy and peaceful! Hello, John, my friend!« She feigned to be indignant: »Happy and peaceful ...? That cruel cop arrested me yesterday!« - »Because she bit me!« - »I only bit him a little!« - »And I arrested her just a little, too!« Rob played the offended: »And now after all the snobs have left with their old flounders, you let your best friend starve and die of thirst!« Dorothy disappeared into her kitchen and called out, »I've got some more lamb in mint sauce, just for you!« John joined the Professor: »I saw the Bavarian Quattro racer on the trailer; your Dutch license plate gave you away. What did you do meanwhile?« - »I had to visit Mrs. Alington ... My God, she can tell stories and hold a lot of liquor! ... But don't tell me about Dutch license plates! It's a Belgian number plate, and I'm French!« - »Of course, you are! Every second Frenchman is called »van Leuven«, and they all drink »Heineken«! That's why Dorothy has so many bottles of it in her cellar, along with the original French Genever! But I'll tell you something: if you weren't French, she would have already killed you for calling her »Doro«!« - »My mother is from France, and I can decide for myself which nationality I prefer ... and I'm aware of my privileges over Doro; my Girl is not everyone's darling!« His Darling came with Rob's food, which had nothing to do with what she had promised. And the French friend enjoyed it in his usual way and asked her to marry him the next day. Dorothy snuggled up to him: »Why are you constantly trying to provoke Arthur with such funny cars ... Maybe you'll get your fastest lap tomorrow and lose it next week when he comes home and undercuts you with the same engine displacement but at least twenty years older technology. Arthur doesn't want to be the king ... he only wants to promote his Classics! Take one of our cars, and he'll make you champion, I promise!« The Professor stroked the hair of his »Child«: »I believe in progress, and one day this gangster will have to give up! My only regret is giving him a free choice of tires! ... But, my dear ones ... That's not the main reason why I came ... I already drove my Marlieschen crazy with my worries, and she suggested asking you for help and advice« - »Why didn´t you bring her?« - »She is too busy with her car dealing ... so am I with promoting her business!« - »And what are you worrying about? It's the damn EU Parliament, isn't it?« The Prof. was not surprised by her question: »What do you say to all the corruption and fraud in Brussels? Now they voted not to investigate their crime, because there is no institution above these gangsters. Journalists who investigated the manipulations have lost their jobs, all reporting is filtered, ... and now these Mafiosi come and ask me for help to fight this chaos and all the other mistakes! ... Is this my chance to change things? Doro, I need you; why did you run away?!« His graduate student looked sad. She was looking for the right words, but in this case, most of the options didn't fit her thoughts: »I'm sorry, my dear friend; you taught me the most important things in my life, but now you have to learn something: there are no mistakes that need to be corrected! For these pushers, everything is going in the right direction ... every human disaster, every unemployment, every social disease, and even war is a welcome situation to increase their influence and become rich and powerful. This is not new, but it has never come this far since the African Year! I bet they need a new horse for a golden carriage that will bring happiness to the darkest corners of the suffering continents ... And when they take the blinkers off you again, you will have to understand that you only brought their bloody prey into the robbers' nest. I was aware of this since the reunited Germans entered the enterprise founded by Reagan and Thatcher. The sociopolitical days of John Maynard Keynes were over. Milton Friedman was the new hero, uniting world business in a new nation: the Nation of Cannibals. Something came together that belonged together! I would rather not be part of that nation and had no choice but to leave this hell! This parliament does not show anything human; there’s nothing divine in it! Rob, you are not a politician; you are a philosopher. You have to ask the right questions... and dream, and speak and write about your dreams! If more and more people hold on to these dreams, maybe those who allow themselves to be abused by a world order that only feigns human aspects will also dream. Perhaps then, the greatest dream of all will come true, which begins with the demand: Thou shalt not kill! Every system in the modern world is based on fear and violence, and it abuses its servants with the command to obey without thinking. In return, they get some ugly privileges and therefore believe they are something better. The Nazis did not invent fascism; they only set a climax!« Rob looked worried: »You don't trust me to change anything, do you? Don't you believe in the good in people? What happened? You were always such a positive and brave girl, a soulmate of mine, I thought.« Dorothy took his hand. She was close to tears: »Please, allow me to continue to be your soulmate. Nothing has happened. But there is no such thing as the good in general ... Compared to this, there is general scum indeed, and it always floats to the top of the surface! Look back to the beginnings of mercantilism and its consequences. The EU is the modern version of an old empire, a practice that is also evident in the USA. You once told me that joining the Mafia to fight the Mafia means being killed or becoming a Mafioso! I don't want my professor to wake up, when it’s too late, and finally realize that he had done nothing else but herd the Hegelian pigs for years... But please tell me, what exactly is your problem? What do they want from you?« The professor took some time ... »Just as you said! ... They offered me a golden carriage ... I should have known better! I remember the words of the Philosopher from the Tower: »Man is a king when he dreams, a beggar when he thinks, and, after all, enthusiasm finally has gone, the prodigal son, thrown out of the house.« - »Why do you call him »the Philosopher of the Tower«?« - »Because he denied his name but recognized his work. Therefore, I respect his decision!« - »So please be a Hölderlin, but don't act like him: »Rob van Leuven« is a wonderful French name ... Be proud of it!« Van Leuven took Dorothy in his arms, »And you continue to be my Hermann Hesse and my Heinrich Heine, my Friedrich Nietzsche ... and take care of your village, this wonderful little world!« John interjected, »That's the point: a village with a responsible queen is more than an international parliament with a few conscientious members! Permission to be crazy and happy is the only thing people can do, have, or be!« Rob promptly replied, »But only as long as your little paradise remains unknown! I wonder why those who do know even let you do it. You probably have something special they need, and I can only hope you never find out why you're allowed to be so happy ... It might finally drive you crazy! By the way ... the International Police Exchange is active again!« John raised his eyebrows: »Yes, I know: the Popplebush Department got a German »Kommissar« as an intern ... I met him at our bakery after Ernest set off a silent alarm. When I arrived, I found a car that had German license plates and a mobile blue signal light on the roof; it was blocking the delivery entrance. The driver was inside the bakery, trying to buy buns for over ten pounds without paying. He had shown Ernest his police badge and explained that a bag of buns could only be a small favor compared to 24 hours of protection, every day. As I questioned him, he told me that it was common for German policemen to get things cheaper or even for free.« - »And what did you do?« - »What else should I do if something like this is normal? I let him drive home ... He'd paid his thirty pounds for the buns, removed his bloody signal light from the top of his bloody car, and paid twenty pounds for blocking the delivery entrance. Finally, as usual, I gave him some free advice: he shouldn't bother our peaceful village again, certainly not with a car with license plates like that!« - »Because of German license plates?« - »No, but because of the letters: SI-EG 85912! In Germany, there is a group that calls itself »Reichsbürger«. They put letters, according to their sequence in the alphabet, instead of the numbers on their license plates, to reveal themselves to each other. If you take 8 for H, 5 for E, 9 for I, and 12 for L ...« - »Sieg Heil! ... My God, those damn rats!« Dorothy and Rob were alarmed. »This is no coincidence.« - »And no joke at all!« John was worried: »This certainly wasn't our last trouble with him, either. We should watch him while he's here, and even watch Arthur when he gets home!« Dorothy laughed, »When don't we have to watch about Arthur?!« John pointed in Dorothy's direction: »Look, the daughter you never had! She's disappeared and left back our mother again ... must be something like Dr. Jekyll and ...« A tinny-sounding voice rang out from the bar's kitchen, »New Popplebush department, this is Popplebush Main Station, John, this is Richie, over!« Tiffy sat in the kitchen and broke off her lengthy phone conversation to answer the radio intercom, »Richie, this is Tiffy! What's your problem?« - »Tiffy? What are you doing at the police station in the middle of the night?« - »I'm not at the station; I'm at headquarters!« - »You're what?« - »Why are you calling on the radio in the middle of the night when John's office is closed? Don't you have a phone?«- »Yes, we do, but John wasn't at his home, and the pub’s telephone line was occupied! Don't ask questions. I have a question: Are any of your friends still at the disco in Popplebush tonight?«... - »Richie, this is John: What happened?« - »There's something wrong with our German: The whole day he asked everyone about your village. And now I saw him come out of the disco and drive in your direction to the end of Popplebush. He seems to be waiting for something ...« - »You mean he’s waiting for someone to go to New Popplebush? ... How can you allow that?« - »He told us that no one has to give him orders while he's commissioner! And presently he is not on duty ... We cannot do anything as long as nothing happens!« – »Oh yes, if the criminal is a policeman, democracy gets difficult!« – »Hey John, that’s not fair, I’m informing you, don’t I?!« John was alarmed: »Tiffy, Dorothy: Operation P!!!« Tiffy disappeared upstairs, and John ran downstairs to the basement ... From the loudspeaker sounded, »Operation »P«? What the hell are you doing?« -»Richie, this is Dorothy. I'm going to the police station and close down the headquarters now ...!« - ». What do you mean, headquarters?!« - »Rob: We have some guests too, and if anyone asks, you haven't heard or seen anything!« - »Of course not, as long as I have my Genever!«

From the cellar, John called out, »I need something exotic, something unusual ... Genever!« Rob shouted, »Not my Genever!«... - »I got something else: Hunters’ Master ... Hunters’ Master? She must have gone crazy!« - »What does Operation P mean?« - »Partisan! But you don't know that word!« Tiffy had changed her clothes and someone looking like »*Catwoman (*Batman, comic-story, Bob Kane and Bill Finger, 1939)« who answered Rob's question as she passed him sprinting out. Now John was passing the kitchen with a large and heavy gym bag, calling out to Rob, »Take care of the house; see you later!«

John jumped into the Land Rover, which no one had ever seen before and never would, driven by Cat Woman. This mysterious car was well-equipped and was said to have once been involved in an incident with the police building’s wall in Popplebush; Its bricks were now a slightly different color.

Dorothy activated the second channel, loudspeakers, and microphones. She made her announcements: »Richie, I'm back; Partisan, this is Partisan Office!« - »... Dorothy, no! I did not mean this!« - »This is Partisan ... Richie, shut up! Our position is Salisbury Road, White Hill... a motorcycle is coming from Popplebush; it sounds like Eric's BSA. A car with a funny noise is following ... not near him yet ... we try to contact Eric!«

The biker had responded with a full and low beam to a short signal with the rotating light by the Land Rover. They were lucky because there was no other traffic, and they could see it from afar if there was. Next, Eric turned off the lights and was guided by a flashlight behind the Defender. Tiffy reported, »Partisan Office, this is Partisan: Your chick is in the nest!« Dorothy and Richie: »Thank God!«#

The funny-sounding car stood transversely on the road, but in the middle of the searchlight, and the driver seemed still blinded by the sudden action. A megaphone voice shouted, »Get out and put your hands up!« Commissioner Jörg Mühlhoff stood beside his car as ordered. His mind was working: How many enemies? Where were these enemies? He shouted, »I'm not armed!« Two hands felt him from behind, and a young woman's voice shouted, »He's telling the truth ... Now!« ... Her hands presented a Walter P1 high into the light. Cat Woman’s laughing white teeth rounded out the cartoon scene, as did her disappearance from one moment to the next. He hadn't realized where she had gone or where the roadblocks had suddenly come, which were framing the entire scene with two lighted barricades, one for each direction of travel. Someone approached the cone of light, and the silhouette of a uniformed man appeared: »A P1 is not a normal police weapon in NRW (North-Rhine-Westphalia). It belongs to the Bundeswehr. Or do you belong to a special unit? I wonder why you have a pistol at all! As a trainee, you don't have a license to kill here and now! I'll be surprised if you request it back in the official way. We don't carry weapons without a special reason!« The commissioner was glad to recognize a simple »Bobby« and tried to take advantage of this. »And what is your action? Perhaps: to interfere with a superior in the performance of his duty? Have you ever considered any consequences, Constable ...?« - »Davenport, ... John Davenport! Did I interrupt you in the performance of your duty? How virtuous: you must be a paragon of virtue! But impersonal virtue means the end of all life!« Mühlhoff felt inspired to argue, »You prefer Nietzsche's philosophy? Nietzsche was a right-wing thinker ... and a misogynist; does Cat Woman know that?«

The bullet struck the still-flashing blue light and swept it off the car's roof, its splinters flying past behind the horrified Mühlhoff. The »Bobby« explained reassuringly: »That's just her natural reaction to your lies! Nietzsche was neither a right thinker nor a misogynist! The famous saying about the women and the whip is taken from »Also Sprach Zarathustra«: An old woman makes fun of the hero's naive image of women. Would you call Goethe a Mephisto because he had this figure say, »What you have in black and white, you can safely carry home«? Nietzsche was also a humanist ... a misunderstood humanist, vilified by people who claim to have understood him.« The German criminologist saw his chance: »Oh, I see: so, Nietzsche was an early socialist. Thank you very much for your lecture, Sir ... I am a member of the SPD myself, and I am sorry if there were any problems ... must have been a misunderstanding too! I am sure you are a good man yourself, and I wish you a good morning!« By the way, he had let go of his hands, started to get back into his car, and continued talking: »Maybe I made a mistake, but I'm only human!« The policeman became angry: »Have you ever conceded that to your victims, or is that against your orders?« - »Oh no, Sir! ... We are all human, but there are not only humanitarian helpers in this world; there are also some black sheep, and that's why officers like you and me are useful: like sheepdogs, we have to keep the herd together, and occasionally we have to bite if we want to be respected! But I don't think a philanthropist like you will shoot an unarmed colleague who has the same goal!« John's voice was calm but serious: »You're right: I would never shoot a colleague who has the same goal unless I felt threatened by an unarmed individual. Feeling threatened is a plausible reason for a policeman to shoot civilians in Germany ... ask the bereaved families of Benno Ohnesorg. Like you, the policeman was an SPD member, and he shot in self-defense ... into the back of the unarmed Ohnesorg's head ... But I don't need to feel threatened if I think of all this paperwork. So many things can happen: car accidents! « Somewhere in the darkness, the silver jingle of Mühlhoff's car keys sounded ... »Hunting accidents!« A gun got loaded on one side of the darkness, and right after that, another one on the other. The policeman approached the commissioner with a water glass in one hand and a bottle of Hunters’ Master in the other: »Sir, you shouldn't be driving after drinking so much booze; you need help to stay out of danger!«#

Eric accompanied Tiffy, driving the Defender back to its hiding place: »Why did you choose Cat Woman? She's someone from the wrong side!« - »You're right! We're all on the wrong side, haven't you noticed yet? Think of a German commissar complaining, »Cat Woman made me drink half a bottle of Hunters’ Master!« Eric laughed, »Yes, you're right, even having to drink Hunters’ Master is torture! ... but what did they have with Nietzsche ... does John think he's a humanist ... like Goethe?« - »Yes, he does ... and so do I!« - »But there must be something wrong with him; he is quoted by the right and the left, as well!« - »That's because he's not a classical philosopher; he doesn't fit into any structure, and everyone takes something from him to use for their advantage. Nietzsche’s philosophy is comparable to the Humanist Renaissance; his definition of divinity is that free spirits live in free people who are not manipulated by religion or state order. Zarathustra’s »will to power« recalls Zeno saying something like, »Don't wish how your life should be, wish your life as it is!« or Voltaire, »Because it is healthy, I have decided to be happy«. Nietzsche's Zarathustra's mission ends where it began: lonely, but agreeing with the world and himself.« - »But Nietzsche's book »Der Wille Zur Macht« is very different from Zenon and Voltaire! It feels like »blood and soil« and was loved by the Nazis!« - »I asked John the same thing, and he told me this book may be by Nietzsche, but not Friedrich. Elisabeth Nietzsche-Förster had taken her brother to her home after his illness worsened. She published the book from Friedrich's estate, claiming that he would have written it there ... at a time when he could not write any books. Elisabeth belonged to the »Bayreuth Circle«, i.e., all these folks who harmonized with Richard Wagner's national racism theory. When Friedrich Nietzsche and Wagner first met, they had something in common: a love of music and the problem that the new Germany was a state with people who could not identify with this »Kaiserreich«, even though so many had already died for it. But when Wagner started talking about things like »pure German blood«, their friendship ended. Wagner had wanted Nietzsche to write something about the new »Bayreuth Festival Hall«, but Nietzsche's only reaction was to write something about Wagner ... nothing flattering. Nietzsche hated any nationalism, so the first sentence in his book »Thus Spoke Zarathustra« reads, »For all or none«. This was a satirical reaction to Prussian peer pressure, and his story about the development of the »Superman« means that we need superwomen and supermen to avoid all this dumbing down with religion, nationalism, and racism. Nietzsche's »The Wagner Case« not only shows their political differences but also Nietzsche’s criticism of Wagner’s image of women.« Eric was astonished: »Wow, you're a disciple of Nietzsche!« - »If I were, I would have misunderstood him too! A free person is not a disciple of anyone! Nietzsche urges us to have a free mind, but he doesn't suggest how to proceed; that's an individual development!« - »Up to Superman?« - »Or: to Cat Woman! I've read some of Nietzsche and talked about it with Dorothy and John, and I agreed with them that making him suspect is more work than understanding him. However, when people don't read a suspect author, the system has no problem ... no system!« Eric was convinced: »I understand if I look in the opposite direction: Georg Büchner is Germany's flagship philosopher of rebellion. He is called the mastermind of the »Vormärz«. Vormärz was a democratic movement in July 1830. The uprising of March 1848 is called the »March Revolution«. You have to be German and have it memorized to understand it, ... and this Georg Büchner had to leave his homeland because he wrote a pamphlet with the capital letters: »Peace to the shacks! War on the palaces!« The original was by Spartacus; now it was Büchner. But the further text is not relevant. It is to be referred to as »Other Times«. One should not think it could be too similar to our present if someone forms their opinion. After this pamphlet, he did not write many more works. After all, he died at the age of 24. »Danton's Death« belongs to world literature and is a school topic, but again, nothing to be questioned individually if the questioner does not want any problems. »Leonce and Lena« is a light critical tabloid comedy, and »Lenz« describes the mental illness of a friend. There is nothing left that makes Büchner the first existentialist as long as they avoid any serious discussion about him. Discussions and controversies keep De Beauvoir, Sartre, and Camus alive!« - »And Woyzeck«?« - »You mean that bad example of cultural compulsion whose meaning changes with the changing of theater directors? This story is a product of several other authors who interpreted the fragments of Büchner's estate, each in their own way. Do you know why there is a »Büchner Society« in Germany? It is the best way to propagate democracy at its highest level, with an author who died in 1837 and who can't do anything about it being made into a harmless bookworm. If they would respect any else, they would have to agree with Friedrich Engels that a republic is a speculation and a revolution is a trade. But you should never storm into the Büchner community, proclaiming the title of his pamphlet: You will have to suffer like Spartacus in ancient Rome!... Or even try to nail something similar to the 95 theses on a church portal like Luther! The Protestants will tell you otherwise!« Cat Woman looked deep into Eric's eyes: »I've never met a nerd interested in classical literature ... Shall we go for a drink together?« - »But only one; I have to go to bed soon!« - »Okay, that should have been my next question, but you're right: one thing at a time!« - »What's going on: Dr. Med of the future, are you interested in nerds?« - »How many a girl thinks she shares nothing with a man but spiritual interests and friendship of soul, while she, often unconsciously, desires nothing else than to love and possess him!« - »Oh, you’re quoting Lou Andreas Salomé, it's a great honor, Ma’am!« - »Do you like her?« - »How could I not love her: she is the poetic Freud, the scientific Rilke, the conciliatory Nietzsche ... but she makes so many words ...!« - »You're right ... let's not make words: let's go to bed!«#

»Why did you call me out of my bed, Richie? Have the Russians come?!« Sergeant Donohue was anything but pleased. – »Not the Russians, Sir!« – »Okay, what did this son of a gun ....« – »He started trouble with the folks of New Pebble...« - »Details, Richie!« – »With Davenport, Willow, and some of their chickens! Now they started Operation ...« – »Operation Partisan! ... Those crazy folks can do what they want and get protection from the CIA!« – »CIA? I thought the MI-5 ...« – »The MI-5 will be perhaps informed, that’s all!«... It rang, and the department chief reached for the phone: »Police Department... Good morning, Dorothy ... Yes, this is Paul! ... A drunk, helpless person sleeping in a car ... A bottle of Hunters’ Master! What the hell ... Wait, I need something to write on ... Not? ... John is securing the White Hill ... But who ...? Unknown? ... And who called ... Aha: Unknown! And John promised Richie to care? How did John arrive at ... with the motorbike borrowed from Mr. Sinclair?! I tell you something, Doctor Willow: I’m fed up with these ...! I know the White Hill is our ... The complete fucking area is our district, including nasty New Popplebush, and your Constable is only ... What do you mean by »responsible acting«? Doctor Will ..., Dorothy! ... Okay, tomorrow! Yes, all of us except Mühlhoff! Yes, Dorothy, this is possible as long as Constable Davenport will represent us. Have a good sleep too!« Donohue hung up the phone and looked into the tired faces of his team: »You might wonder why she can do this with us ... it’s because we have let the wrong people do anything with us before. I remember all those fucking instructions by telephone ... He must be related to one of these sixteen right-wing »Innenministers«, Rubbish: they have seventeen! ... No, don’t ask: every Home Secretary is right-wing, apart from any party or any voting! This political office is always connected to the imperative ambition of protecting democratic goods by suspecting those who should be protected. Those leaders stand for the good, but cannot even be friendly themselves! And now we have even a problem with a queen: I was just told that in New Popplebush, only well-educated police officers will be allowed to represent Constable Davenport when he is off duty. That means no helping in Mrs. Alington’s garden or the Dorothy’s pub, no traffic lessons at Mademoiselle Rossignol’s primary school!« The sergeant seemed to be somewhere else for a moment, but his arguments got completed by someone else: »No dinner at Dorothy’s restaurant, no freshly tapped Königspils!« – »Richie! ... drinking on duty!? ... okay, me too! ... We could tell each other many reasons, but there are reasons we cannot describe ... Tomorrow, we have a lecture in the guestroom of Power Slide Inn. The subject of Dr. Willow is »Inner guidance and law«. We will have strawberry cake.« – »First comes the eating, then the moral!« – »Who was that? ... Anyway, I don’t want to know ... go home now!« – »Brecht, Sir! Bertolt Brecht!« – »What the hell was to be misunderstood by saying, Go home now!?« – »I’m on duty, Sir!« – »No, I take this! I won’t go home only to get excited there ... Richie, come on, boy, we have to pick up a drunken idiot and his car from the dark road!«#

Like a peeping Tom, the moonlight sneaked through the window, adding a romantic touch to the dark room and letting the couple end up in a black-and-white scene, reminiscent of Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart ... The bar beneath the room was one more hint ... However, these protagonists were too young to talk about yesterday’s romances or even make promises for a better tomorrow: their time was here and now ... at least for a moment: »We don’t remember days but moments!« Tiffy was surprised again: »Cesare Pavese! ... Who are you and what happened to Eric, the nerd?« – »I ... I didn’t know ... Okay, then, thank you, Cesare, I could not say it better!« Her smile asserted even better against the shadows than some hours before in the light cone of the Land Rover, and he put his arm again around her: »Why do people make all that fuss? Why don’t we all only try to be happy?« She snuggled up to him: »That’s only easy if you have somebody to love!« – »Do you think all those bastards have nobody to love?« – »Or they got tainted by others who do not love!« Eric felt insecure: »Do the Prussians have no one, and did they invent fascism because of that?« Tiffy was sure: »Fascism begins with the natural fear against anything foreign. Frightened people are always abused by those who want to possess or be mighty. The Prussians, whom we are talking about, are not a people but a program. A program for being successful under any condition, and it’s the worst demonstration of the »Hegelian Idea that everything belongs together and will have a good result«!« – »You mean: »Standards«?« – »Yes, and everything that doesn’t match them gets lost. I cannot understand why they are proud of their culture ... A culture of governmental orders and prohibitions! But the worst thing is that they always had followers! The Prussians had once been confederative with the British Kingdom without being friends or trusting each other. Great Britain became an empire, and the Prussians made a new country called Germany. Prussia itself was a small kingdom, and evil did not only grow from this place... It grew in the heads of even well-studied barbarians who did not come from there: Richard Wagner and Ludwig Bernhard Förster were Saxons, Houston Steward Chamberlain came from Portsmouth..., Winifred Wagner from Hastings, Adolf Hitler was an Austrian, and Benito Mussolini lived in Italy. Even the Hohenzollerns came from Baden-Württemberg. Prussia had never been ruled by antisemites, but their methods of handling the people could be used as good tools.« – »Has there ever been a reason to expect the Nazis from historic hints? Between Wagner’s nationalism and Hitler’s tyranny, there is a difference of more than 60 years!« – »It’s not a matter of time when talking about people having the same roots. And by the way: These roots lasted more than a hundred years in the Wagner family! Richard Wagner’s great time had its beginning, together with Germany, and Winifred, his daughter-in-law, died in 1980, having continued his Circus of Bayreuth ... after World War II as well! ... Bayreuth is still a magnet for politicians. Perhaps it’s what Nietzsche wanted to say with: »Ewige Wiederkunft«, meaning: having the same struggle up to the end of the world and his Zarathustra being still actual.« – »Do you think this book was written as an answer to Wagner and his fellows?« – »Not only ... I think, his idea was inspired by Hölderlin as well. That poet had written a story called: »Hyperion«, which means: »the one who is walking above«, and it reminds something like »Übermensch«. But Hölderlin told things about his life in a story about friendship and love during the struggles between Greece and the Ottoman Empire. He watched parallels to his life in a kingdom of »Restorers« at the time of the French Revolution, his impossible love for a woman, and his surrender in a system with efficient artisans but without human beings. This chapter is known as »Deutschenschelte«. The so-called »Germany« belonged to the Roman Empire of that time and was the name of the partners belonging to the »Deutscher Bund« with the leadership by »Großherzogtum Oesterreich« whose grand dukes were »Römische Kaiser« as well. Hölderlin and Nietzsche have different messages: for Hölderlin, the only divine is love, and Nietzsche says that, if there is to be any divine at all, people will have to create it by themselves. The year Nietzsche was born was the year Hölderlin died. Hölderlin’s story was contemporary, and Nietzsche’s Zarathustra was about the wise man from the Orient who was born laughing and died lonely but satisfied. It seems that Nietzsche set his analysis of Hyperion to a time before Hyperion.« Eric was impressed by his new lover, but her lecture inspired him to ask: »What do you think: is Uncle Arthur someone like Zarathustra? He lives withdrawn and doesn’t seem interested in any community, but probably has his philosophy ...« Tiffy reacted: »Oh no! Does he look satisfied or like someone who has a mission? I think: he’s a kind of Hölderlin, having been broken by the world and suffering from an impossible love ... a woman feels that!« – »Okay then, if that’s the case, I’m not wondering about anything!«#

Back to the Roots?

Sally did not only wonder; she was heavily surprised ... Professor Adams was sitting at her parents’ dinner table! They had never talked together before, but now it wasn’t only a second time after a few hours; it happened in the house where she had grown up, and it was at the celebration of this special day ... Daddy and the Professor worked together; yes, she had been told so this very morning ... Dad was working for the municipality, and Mum was a librarian ... Probably both of them had already worked together with the dean, but surely not only in the case of their official profession. The appearance of Alicia Adams probably had something to do with »Mission Excalibur« or at least with the incident in the lecture hall ... Or had it been more of an accident? Yes, she surely had gone too far, but those bloated goats had vexed her. She decided to apologize for snubbing the professor, and that was all she was about to do! Sally liked this woman and never wanted to hurt her. She didn’t even know why she liked her. Somehow, she reminded her of someone, but who and what was it? Something in her face that she only knew from the campus? ... Her voice or her body speech? It was not the first time for Sally to be confused this way ... there had been the young social worker who had often visited her when she had been a little girl; then, the much older teacher at primary school ... the marshal at the circuit of Laguna Seca, the officer at the base ... At many times and many place, she had met women who had nothing in common but made her nervous, and it was not sexual ... more something like magical. Even people with a photographic memory have an unknown subconscious mind ... »Did you enjoy this day, Captain?« The mysterious woman interrupted her thoughts, beginning the conversation: »This was an interesting morning!« – »Oh, Ma’... Professor, I’m sorry because of ...!« – »No, this was meant seriously. I would be proud if you were my daughter! ... On the other hand, you just finished your education as an agent, and we have to accept that you cannot be deployed in just any kind of operation.« – »You mean ...« – »I mean you can only be a special agent ... and that means for special cases if they don’t conflict with your conscience or your own decisions. You see, I learned something from you and did not use the words »as long as...« But we need you to trust us this time: you will start your mission with only the information in the envelope, and you won’t be successful if you don’t handle your instructions as we have told you!« – »And, if I get doubts?« – »You will call Agent Merlin, and the operation will be canceled. The operation will be canceled in any case as soon as you contact us without having been contacted first. This was no conversation at eye level, and it wasn’t supposed to be, Captain!« Sally got up: »Ma’am, yes, Ma’am, I understood! And you needn’t tell me more about this sneaky test in your lecture hall either. I hope that you and all the disguised agents had your fun pretending a normal lesson!« The Professor spoke calmly: »Sarah, please sit down again! You learned so many things in your young life. And your teachers always handled you like a queen, even the tough fellows at Area 51, Bob’s Driving School, or Carroll’s Car Company. They were right: you learned fast, and you were nice to everybody. It’s good to notice that you don’t want to be everybody’s darling! But every so often you must tolerate a world that’s not kind or tolerant: the real world! As usual, children learn to know this world first before learning anything else. Your life went topsy-turvy ... to this very day! I’m sure you will do this your way, but you must try to be diplomatic! You were handled like a queen, but you’re still a princess. It’s a difference between enjoying things and suffering from any circumstances. Being a responsible woman for yourself and at your level means taking responsibility for others! Learn to become the queen of your life; destiny won’t give you a different choice! I’m not your enemy. I want to be your friend! Name me ... Charlotte!«

The professor had no eyes for the alarmed-looking parents. She did not listen to their speechlessness; she only had eyes and ears for the captain, who reacted like the young woman she was: »I never thought this way ... and it must be difficult ... I’m sorry, Ma... Charlotte! If you want to call me »My Child«, it will be okay; I’m used to having funny nicknames!« Charlotte tried to keep cool: »I won’t belittle you in any case, and the lecture this morning was no fake, My Child! There were no agents; there were only students who took your talk seriously. To manage this, I only had to substitute a tutor who is normally used to holding her lectures exactly this way. She is still proud of having demonstrated against the Vietnam War in front of landing airplanes with dead and wounded soldiers. Most of them being conscripts, they were not even welcomed home! ... She also once visited a Swedish policy group that stood for abolishing the men ... and she is still allowed to teach in public because she is a member of an institution fighting for human rights! I cannot do anything against those tutors who need nothing more for their satisfaction than to spread their hate and call it philosophy. What you said about lobbyists was right: look in the other direction of the same line, and you find the Republicans!«#

The dinner had been finished, and Ray vanished with Sally out of the room. Martha was an excellent cook, but her husband could not believe that all the superb-looking and tasty meals came out of this desolate, no, destroyed kitchen! So, he once had insisted on closing the kitchen door every evening and letting nobody in before he had cleaned and »reconstructed« everything for the next session of vandalism. Today, he was glad to have a team with »his Princess«.

Both women were on their own, and that’s what they wanted to be: »An atomic bomb is nothing against this hand grenade! If she explodes, no one will be safe! Thank you for bringing her up this way!« – »You think that’s because of our parenting?« – »What else do you think: because of your genetic material? Your husband wanted to shoot me ... before having lunch, and I was hungry!« – »Yes, I’m sorry ... he is sorry too! If something threatens Sally, he gets paranoid; maybe you’re right, suggesting his retirement. But do you want to close Department Avalon? How do we have to imagine the future of this village ... The British state security raiding our Robin Hoods, dragging them to court? We were always convinced that humanity cannot be treason!« Alicia took a deep breath: »Did you ever hear about »Professor Webster«?« – »Of course we did, he is ...« – »Department Avalon will not be closed, it will change ... not only back to England but to the MI-5! That’s the only reason for having started Operation Excalibur. Sarah is British ... We only need a plausible story for that!« – »You mean a story like the one about Denise Schaffrath?« Martha watched a panicked chief searching for words: »What ... which story ... about ...?« The situation was difficult, and Martha tried to make the best of it. She got up and left the room, coming back and presenting a German newspaper that was more than a year old: »I thought you knew this!« The professor looked at the picture and translated the text while reading aloud: »Is Denise Schaffrath Andrew Moore’s daughter? ... There are new hints for a more than 20-year-old rumor that the missing Charlotte Schaffrath and the vanished English-American spy Dr. Thelma Moore are the same person ... Having left her child at her mother’s in Adenau, before starting her last flight over the Channel ... Vasily Valaitis, partner of Waltraut Schaffrath tells secrets about our »Ring-Flea«, who had her first long-distance overall win at the Nürburgring last weekend ...« The chief looked up: »Korsakov! I ... I had never seen him there; I was satisfied with knowing her happy ... Martha, what’s going on here?! Merlin provided you with information but hid it from me... What the hell ...!« Martha interrupted her: »How should we know that your mother hid the newspaper too? We know how often you came to the Eifel for a visit, disguised as someone else ... It’s our duty not only to observe the Village of the Crazy but the village of your roots too ... And there was never a reason to search for the roots of »Thelma Lauderdale« in Cologne; this identity was a creation by our British partners to cover a British Occupation Child in Operation Ulysses, but no explanation for her studying at Berkeley as an American-German before. And even though the passport of Charlotte Schaffrath was real, the name of your father was fake.« - »So you can tell me who my father is? ... I don’t know!« - »That only can tell your mother, and she doesn’t say!« - »But everything else you know better than me?« - »We knew your vita from the very day they recruited you off the lecture hall because our department was after you from the start: you cannot come to an American university being highly gifted and escape the CIA! In your case, we even had some trouble with the NSA ... Yes, Ray is Merlin, and not me; but having one of us on duty means having the both of us on duty, anyway if it is his duty or mine: we are the Rubensteins! ... We did not talk to you about your secret, I mean this special secret, because, for a long time, we did not know how dangerous it could be for ourselves, knowing this. On the other hand, Denise’s »Grandpa« did not fear any danger now: the spies of yesterday had gone, together with the Warsaw Pact ... And his brave girl should know her roots and be proud of them. But she wasn’t pleased at all after this newspaper article and refused any contact with England, giving the statement, »I have a family and don’t need a second one!« ... Doesn’t she look the same as our daughter?«

Alicia felt broken: »Martha, I did something terrible!« – »Something endangering the children ...?« – »No, to protect them! But I don’t know if this was necessary!« – »Can we do something?« – »No, ... It’s some years too late!«#

Which Status Quo?

It was early morning when Arthur awoke. The rising sun had climbed the opposite building from behind and now hit his face from the top of its roof. He looked around his modest accommodation and listened to the voices of children playing in the yard. The sound of cows, goats, and hens completed this poetic morning, and somehow, he refused to get up and destroy this romantic moment. There was no noise coming from the house. Even the rooster struggled in vain, from outside, to get «les invités anglais» out of their beds. However, it was time for Arthur to take a shower and prepare to leave.

On his way downstairs to the refectory, he noticed that the breakfast tables had been laid, each for one guest and his nightly accompaniment. This was made clear by one table with dishes for a single person ... But it came differently because he got called to the kitchen to join a funny group there. Madeleine and Maurice were cuddling and kissing, and Ines buzzed around them and the table, pouring coffee. The collection of used dishes on a sideboard indicated that the rest of their families had left for work or play. Arthur tried to walk out again secretly and was stopped by Ines: »Please sit down; they will have finished now!« Nevertheless, he felt uncomfortable, and it did not help when they began talking to him: »Shall we wake up your team?« – »No, let the young people sleep; it's okay if any of them arrive at Lausanne this evening to take me back ... and if not, I’ll take a plane home tomorrow.« – »You're a nice boss! I'm sure that such a team only functions with people being friends!« – »They are specialists, and I admire the craftsmanship and virtuosity of each.« – »But they are your friends too ...« – »I never asked them!« – »Do you have to ask this?« – »I don't know, because I did not ask myself about that!« – »But don't you feel something?« – »I think they are good people.« – »And do you think they would call you a good man too?« – »I will never ask something like this either!« Ines got impatient: »Okay: you don't ask them ... because you fear the answer?« – »First: because I'm not used to asking such kinds of questions ... and on the other hand: why should I risk a good working system?« Maurice meddled: »We like you, ... do you like us?« – »Yes, you have been very kind to us. I never expected this, thank you!« – »Do you think we could be friends?« – »I'm sorry, but we don't know each other well enough to be friends.« – »How long do you believe it takes for a friendship to grow: the same as long as you have already been working with your team, and with the same result?« - »The only thing I can tell you is that I cannot be a friend ... There's something wrong with me; I'm truly sorry ... may I have the bill, please?« Madeleine tried not to lose her composure: »You were our guests! We had looked forward to your coming through our village. « ... Watching Arthur's face, Maurice meddled again: »We have a municipal cash register if you want to pay any share. Claudette is always to be found in the house next door before school!« He reached out his hand, and the women also renounced the usual French tradition of saying goodbye. Before Arthur finally left, the Flick pointed to the beret on Arthur's head and had a last question: »Is this the only legacy of your time being a young man, or is there still something below this funny hat?« Arthur did not hesitate: »Yes, there is something left ... it's a dream, and I can say it in French: «Sous les pavés, la plage!» Maurice looked serious: »How old had you been at that time ... fourteen, fifteen years?« Arthur's face matched the scene: »Yes, I started early ... but I must confess: I didn't get far!« – »Perhaps this was the best that could happen to you: not to have gotten far! These things went so wrong that you never would have had a chance of doing right, even though your thinking was left-wing!«#

Arthur had left enough money to the Mairesse to have a second feast in France, and he knew his behavior could not have been worse in any detail, but he could not do better. He waved bashfully to the people standing before their houses and drove the green goddess out of the yard and the village.

Madeleine was sure: »What he needs is a wife!« Maurice laughed: »Because a woman feels that? Tell me how he should notice someone loving him if he cannot even recognize his friends. That poor fellow had stayed too long in that country!« Madeleine wrapped her arm around him: »Do you mean England?« — «No ... Prussia! The Prussians are the worst problem in Europe, and as often as the Germans have to get up again, the Prussians will get up once more, too. Prussia is a system ... a successful system!« – »Do you think the GDR surrendered because they did not use this system?« – » Oh my dear, they did! But depressing the folks is not enough to be successful without having any investors! And the Western investors took the East for little money at last. Life in the GDR of yesterday means life in the whole of Germany tomorrow if things go worse: the conservatives will leave together with their sponsors, and the self-calling socialists will prepare the country for the new fascists, just like before, after the First World War. We only have to wait for the next significant incident to take a look at a repeating history.« – »What do you mean: ... any hints? ... what kind of incidents?« – »If riots like Hoyerswerda 1991 or Rostock-Lichtenhagen 1992 get usual!« Maurice did not talk further. He needed to take the cloth off his face first. But he did not pursue his wife this time; he did not feel like joking because he had to mourn a lost friend.#

Arthur had felt lost for the last 200 kilometers, and he had also forgotten to check up on the car. When he noticed that, it was too late—not for the car! That lady had been singing her melody in the highest purity ... but now they had already reached the Barca Garage of Lausanne, and he only had to direct them straight to a crowd of people opening the space to the entrance and closing again just behind the green wonder. There was a line of OB vans, and Arthur looked into a storm of camera flashlights as he left the car ... Too many folks, too many questions, and one that was not to be neglected: »Where have you been, Arthur Lombard?! We have been searching every fucking »Autobahn-Raststätte« and every damn checkpoint on the way to Switzerland! We even had to share a helicopter with two other newspapers: You are going to crash my story; who do you think you are?« Arthur wasn't amused but pretended: »I'm also pleased to see you, Debbie! I did not know anything about your coming to Lausanne at all. But it's your fault if you mean to get me from any place you want. And I'm pleased to tell you who I think I am: I'm the one who crossed the checkpoint that you did not observe; I may be the idiot you're calling me, but the idiot can decide to subscribe to sponsoring contracts with newspapers or not! And I can make photographs for fucking newspapers ... okay, Gordon makes better ones ... look!« He took his backpack out of the car, together with a camera. It was the right moment. The car was just pushed into the garage. Debbie held the instrument in her hands: »Nice for you to have a reflex camera ... and now?« — »Now, you can look at the display to find what's inside! It's the first of its kind, not even on the market yet; I got it from Suwanay San!« Debbie tried: »Oh, Paddy singing in front of a green car, which they disguised with a colored sheet ... The Name Sign of Lyon ... Lyon? What did you ...« – »Patience, Debbie, patience!« – »My God! The car in front of Clermont-Ferrand! ... And Gordon drives the banked corner of Linas-Montlhéry!« Debbie began to hop up and down: »... In front of the old paddock buildings of Reims, wow! ... Together with a GTO in the Old Paddock at Nürburgring at half past four in the morning! ... When did you leave Oma Brand?!« - »Her name is Mutter Wehner! The GTO belongs to an Englishman contacted by Moses Stevens!« - »Arthur, that’s more than twice the distance of the shortest way!« Arthur was proud: »Exactly! And together with the distance from England to Germany, we have enough kilometers for a well-practiced overhauled engine: the people at the dynamometer will be delighted!« – »And now, you old crook, are coming just the way from the direction of Geneva?« Bob took his camera and approached secretly to get the scene: Debbie shouting, »Not any picture from our Goddess in Paris?« and Arthur's finger pointing to his head: »Perhaps after getting bumped in the parking lot and standing together with all the damaged rust buckets?«

Coming directly from the airport, Debbie and Bob had found their broadcast truck standing in the worst place: at the end of the show! But now it was Magic Debbie’s show, presenting »King Arthur«, even though he did not seem pleased about it. So, it did not take long before everyone, whether prominent or not, appeared in front of Bob’s camera, having anything to tell: the people from the Barca Garage, the notary from the Barca family, the notary from the Swiss department of the Classics' home bank, someone from the commune or the next pub, and the next fast-food stand. At last, they were joined by Taffy, the only left teammate from the Classics to arrive, who told Arthur that Paddy would stay in France to have holidays and that Gordon had left for home by plane after having gotten the information from TV that Arthur had not told him the truth: »Ines only had remarked that she had never held Arthur for the boss if she had not seen him on the screen, »behind his elegant desk, and wearing an expensive suit« ... This was interesting for Debbie: »You had time enough, and you didn't ...« – »But there wasn't the right time at all! He is a nice chap, and I did not know what would happen if ...« – »Now you do!« The representative of the Barca family gave an unsympathetic commentary, Debbie joined in, the communal politician tried to settle the situation, and the sportive banker caught a flying cloth from its unknown trajectory. But the mood increased as the telephone rang in the OB truck, and Bob said, »No, Dorothy, everything is okay; of course, you can talk to Arthur, you can speak to all of us ... and if you switch on your TV, you can see us too ... this is a live show, and your voice is on broadcast ... now!« While there was a pause from Dorothy, Bob got a poster and fixed it to the OB van. Now, everybody listening could watch her too, having a whistle in her mouth, one arm, and a pointing forefinger to the side. A speech bubble remarked, »If nothing goes right, go left!« Somehow her voice matched the picture: »Debbie, what's going on ... that's no party, it's serious business! ... Arthur, do you have your documents? Where is your team? There is only Taffy on the screen!«... Arthur and Debbie waved into the camera: »Hello Dorothy, you’re looking good again!« – »I ...« There was another, everyone-amusing break, but then: »I'm telling you something: You should watch me crossing the channel only to meet you, folks!« Arthur added: »... and you will identify her riding a unicorn, folks!«#

John rode Eric’s motorcycle to the entrance of the Popplebush Police Department. Turning in, he was passed by an MG-A that stopped at some distance. He entered the department, and a group of cops just left, not without giving some remarks: »Gangster!«, »Terrorist!«, »Anarchist!«... except Richie, who said, »Thank you, John! The German Kommissar has left, and we get strawberry cake! So, we can stand the »upper teacher«!«

He went to the back door to let Tiffy in, who immediately took the base office, holding the line to New Popplebush and Eric, who had occupied the headquarters of Doctor Willow. John took his walkie-talkie and went around the houses, as usual. Popplebush was a much larger village with more than six hundred inhabitants. Some successful, busy brokers lived here or had at least a second residence. The same was true for some well-known artists. The shops had their regular customers coming from a large catchment area, including those mad but not poor folks of New Popplebush. Most of the income of Popplebush was good, and some folks even worked for the Classics, but none of the rest were jealous and even called them »The workers for the mad men«. John had passed some shops when somebody called from behind: »Professor Webster, Sir!« The voice came from the other side of the street, and a man crossed it and stepped into John's way: »You must be Professor Duncan Webster!« Ignoring him was no use, and so, John had to stop: »Do you think, Sir, that a professor would walk around, disguised as a policeman, a normal constable?« – »Yes, perhaps ... I don't know the circumstances, but I never forget significant faces!« John did not expect to get rid of him, but there had to be a solution: »You should tell me something about this professor looking just the same as me, if you don't believe me, sir! Shall we sit down in the little park over there?«

His strategy was not successful: the man had agreed, and they sat on a park bench together. John began: »Sir, is it important for you to talk to this professor in any way? I only want to help you and myself!« The man reacted on the point: »Oh, I understand ... no, I'm not mentally ill, at least not in this case ... I'm a psychologist myself ...« – »And you dare to risk your reputation, acting this way?« – »Being a psychologist doesn't mean being faultless, but, and I'm sorry to disturb you: I'm sure you are Professor Webster! My name is Jürgen Aust, and I once belonged to the group of police officers you lectured at Stukenbrock Police Academy in Germany. There's something I wanted to tell you, but that never happened. You might have forgotten this, but ...« – »Okay, I did not forget Jürgen Aust!«

In John’s head, a film was shown by his memory: ... »My name is Duncan Webster, and I am a professor of criminology. Our subject will be the English language in the case of international police cooperation. It may be difficult enough to learn this terminology by heart; nevertheless, a foreign language complicates any cooperation, and the danger of misunderstandings may have horrible consequences, above all, if you are responsible for others. One single, not exactly translated word or a misinterpreted grammatical detail can give a thoroughly different message, and every language is filled with traps. This lecture is supposed to show you some traps of my mother tongue. To demonstrate typical difficulties, I give each of you these song texts written by Keith Reid, the lead singer of »Procol Harum«. I'm sure there will be some problems for you with interpreting the two stories, and perhaps we’ll get even more interesting stories this way, just created by you. The most important thing for me will be your first impressions and highlighted difficulties in understanding.

The professor watched his students read, mark, and have some whispering discussions. After some time, they began talking louder, some shaking their heads, some even laughing. Webster, having expected this, asked them to make up their minds, and a young man with the nameplate »Jürgen Aust« got up: »These song texts match the usual criticisms about the band Procol Harum: Both tell about drug parties and psychotic perceptions. The first depicts turned-out cartwheels, a mix of dancing and vandalism called »Fandango«, and a Vestal Virgin from ancient Rome getting shocked by the obscene stories of a miller. The second text is about the end of such an orgy: a mirror had to be fixed on the wall because the distance between floor and ceiling was too tall for watching a multilingual business friend. I think everybody can imagine what he wanted to watch and what »multilingual« means in this case«... Most of his classmates laughed ... »At the end, she leaves a lipstick-soiled bed and a filled ashtray, making herself out of the dust, while someone with dirty trouser cuffs has to take off his hat that doesn't match the length of his coat. An idiot telling the time gets swallowed by a town clock running the wrong way around, and the shattering of the moon and sun prevents the signpost from functioning ... People selling such fantasies need therapy, not a number one hit. On the other hand, they like to steal their music from Johann Sebastian Bach!« Webster thanked Aust and added, »To say it clearly: Sodom and Gomorrah! ... Has anyone a different view ... yes, please, Frau ...« He took a look at her nameplate: »Frau Elperts?« ... Roswitha Elperts seemed a little shy at her beginning: »I think these stories do not have much in common, not even an orgy! But they share the same style of projecting pictures ... pictures or scenes. The second song tells us something about an apocalyptic occurrence: the sun and moon shatter, and the signposts are out of function because there’s nothing left to go to. The town clock does not go the other way around but falls back into the clock house, leaving a hole, and the collapsing roof looks like it is devouring the clock, and the falling pieces kill the passersby, whether they are looking at the clock to tell the time or not. The lipsticked bed is bloodstained, and the ashtray is filled with wall plaster. The mirror, wherever it stands or hangs, reflects the business friend climbing the opposite wall to escape from a collapsing floor, and the hat has to be taken off the dead to cover his corpse. The telling of scary stories in a poetic and even funny style made authors like Ambrose Bierce famous without him getting called a junkie, and the song »Homburg« is just a similarly told story. The first text reminds me of »The Canterbury Tales« by Geoffrey Chaucer: the situation in an English pub of the fourteenth century, but described as a kind of honky-tonk, with jugglers who do their feats without any introduction, or they just indicate a light fandango ... I don´t know how to understand »skip the light fandango« in this case ... and a group of pilgrims from different stands, taking a rest on their way to the bishop’s tomb of Thomas Becket, also known as Thomas of Canterbury. To this group belong nuns and a miller. Perhaps this was meant with »The Miller’s Tale« and ... »Vestal Virgins«, with one of them getting pale listening to his frivolous tale. A card-playing guest is watching the scene from his view. But it isn't even necessary to use Chaucer’s work, and it needn't be an excerpt from a historical novel at all; it can be any story—a story of our imagination! The melody of »A Whiter Shade of Pale« may be similar to Bach’s »Joy«, Bach’s »Air«, or Percy Sledge’s »When a Man Loves a Woman«. That means, on the other hand, that all four are similar and probably interesting for some devious lawyers to make money for nothing. So, the question may be: whose music had been covered first? ... I think it was Bach from Bach! The big misunderstanding in both *texts (*A whiter shade of pale, Homburg, Keith Reid, Gary Brooker, 1967) is the result of rumors made by people who have less empathy and less fantasy!« – »... And less education too!«, added the professor: »I’m very impressed, Madam! ... But in a real case, your perfect analysis might have come too late: most of your colleagues might already have started so-called police operations, stormed houses and arrested suspects, or shot unarmed people in self-defense ...« – »Who do you think we are: barbarians coming out of the Teutoburg Forest, StaSi members, or worse?« The question came from Jürgen Aust, and the tutor’s answer began some kind of diplomatic, but did not end this way: »You are human beings working with an old machine that functions according to an old-world order. It’s the same world order that lets this machine make any democratic government similar ... similar to any tyranny. This machine is a simple backup for state power, and it’s only natural if people who handle this apparatus feel mighty without having to fear consequences. It’s not democratic to abuse laws, which should protect the people, by new definitions that only protect the authorities. Everybody should feel responsible for every circumstance they are involved in. Everyone should be aware that the machine cannot be stopped as fast as it has been started. It’s my subject in this lecture to show some examples of how a mechanism might be started because of mistakes, especially because of misunderstandings, together with personal bias. I cannot protect anyone from misunderstanding in every case, but perhaps in misunderstanding the English language!« Some police officer students got loud: »Are you a terrorism sympathizer or a conspiracy theorist?«..., – »You’re talking to the protectors of democracy; we are the good ones!« Webster’s only reaction was heaving his eyebrows by walking back to the front of the class. He had risked much with his lecture, and it was going tough now, but this was too important for him to stop it. The next question from out of the room was spoken with a deriding voice: »You certainly can describe to us the function of the machine; it must be difficult, and you are a professor, aren’t you?« And he answered, »You won’t notice that as long as your work gets easier by using these functions; for instance, as a motorist, you don’t need to know what the engine or the gearbox is doing if you encounter no problems with your car on the road ... You only had to learn driving before. As an officer, you needn't be a good driver yourself: you have the permission to check other drivers. You only need to know your task, butn't need to think about your orders because there is always the same order, whether for traffic or human rights. The system has to keep running, and the worst crime means breaking this rule, even if it means doing any inhuman acts this way! When Hannah Arendt defined »The Banality of the Evil« as depending on obeying the order without thinking, she harvested a worldwide shitstorm by newspapers, radio, and TV because the Western democratic governments suspected, in a self-treacherous way, that Arendt was endangering their machine and their »Administrators«. All the time, you hear from elected politicians that their nation must not be a toothless tiger. But the folks never have the choice of voting against political predators at all!« The professor looked into petrified faces. Some looked pensive too but did say nothing. The others were in a rage: »What drives your machine, gasoline?« Webster waited a moment, letting them laugh and bawl: »It’s an algorithm! I tell you some details because you asked ... the main order is, »It only counts what’s worth on the market, and the slave only respects the violent«!« – »Oh, indeed?! ... and how would you change this algorithm to have a better world?« – »I would prefer: »No might for anyone«!« This was the highlight, and the reaction came promptly: »Ton Steine Scherben! You’re supporting terrorists!« – »You are a terrorist!« Jürgen Aust got up: »Sir, please show me this mysterious machine. I’d love to take a look at it!« The professor had to wait another moment of tumult: »You don’t need to search too far! Look around your house for something smelling; it might be in the cellar, just beside the corpses! And before you raid Rio Reiser and his music group for being radical, you should visit the real author of both sentences. He has not left his conspiracy home in Tübingen since 1843, and his name is Friedrich Hölderlin. I’m sorry to say that you cannot shoot him in self-defense!«

Duncan Webster was on his way to the parking ... His lesson had been a disaster ... and it was his fault! But how could he know that all his prejudices were right? He crossed the road and passed by a police car standing before a bakery. It was parked beside other cars and blocking a part of the road, with the cops having their second breakfast inside. He reached the opposite sidewalk and only shook his head on the way when he suddenly watched Jürgen Aust storming to the police car, holding his police badge into the opened door window, shouting, »Get out of the car, now!« and to the man on the passenger seat: »Don’t even try to touch this fucking pistol!« The cops followed without saying a word; only the voice of Aust was to be heard: »What do you tell the civilians if you stop their cars? ...: »It’s dangerous for all if a vehicle gets driven or parked incorrectly!«... That’s right! But what the hell are you doing? Do you think a police car cannot be dangerous because it’s blessed? Make yourself out of the dust, you fucking idiots!«

He noticed Webster next to him, who asked, »How do you call this in Germany: »Beamtenbeleidigung«? ... You call this a crime, don’t you? You had the choice of using the law; why did you act like this? Are you angry about anything?« Aust was angry indeed ... for different reasons ...: »I’m sure you have the same law for insulting an official in your country too ... but I’m of higher standing than those peasants! They have the choice to complain ... I won’t advise this.« – »Oh, I see: the arrogance of power! ... Do you think those, as you say, »peasants« feel higher standing than the next civilian who has to pay for those peasants’ jobs and pensions with his tax? Do they perhaps control and indict him for insulting an official only because they cannot reach you? Sporadically, we are doing the right things, but the wrong way ... that makes us wrong the same!« Aust wanted to answer, but the tutor was already on his way, hearing from behind: »Professor Webster!« ...

»I just had a déjà-vu, when I heard you calling again ...!« John was back to reality, looking at the understanding face of the psychologist. – »And I still have to give you an answer! ... and I have to apologize ... The answer I have to give now is quite different from the one I wanted to give at that time: You have been right, and I thank you for being right! This lesson changed my life, and I will never forget your advising me to look around my house to find some corpses and this machine ... I promise I was not involved when they canceled your lecture in Stukenbrock. I never expected to say this to you either, and I only hope you believe me!« John became inquisitive: »What corpses did you find out?« – »That’s a long story: I grew up in an environment of policemen’s families. Even genial Roswitha Elperts lived in the other part of the duplex that had been built by our families. Rita’s uncle was Chief of the Police, Martin Sende. Our houses stood at the end of a settlement and were called »Bullenghetto«. Other children refused to play with us, and not even my father could change our reputation as a councilor and a member of the SPD. On the contrary! Even my grandfather disliked his son-in-law because of had joined the SPD. When we came for a visit, my father sometimes was welcomed by my grandfather with the words: »Wer hat uns verraten? Die Sozialdemokraten!« I had never understood this: my grandfather had always called himself »Rote Socke«, and where was the difference to the SPD? But being used to empty phrases, I had never asked before and was shocked by the answer as I asked now ... After your lesson, I did! ... My grandfather had been a child during the Weimar Republic and had to make his way through because his parents had to hide or were arrested from time to time. They had been SPD members too ... U-SPD members, after the party had been parted. Those people had been thrown out of the parliament in 1916 because they were against the War. The M-SPD not only stayed in the parliament but still called themselves »democratic« and voted for continuing to wage war and against the offer of the USA President Wilson to support making peace for all people in Europe. After the war, the members of U-SPD and Spartacus-Bund were pursued by Frei-Corps like the fascist »SA« and the »Reichsheer« in the name of a so-called Republic, and those early fascists killed Rosa Luxemburg, Karl Liebknecht, and thousands of hungry and distraught people who tried to change things and help their families survive. When indeed things changed in 1933, this was done by the same brown-uniformed killers who once had been called to protect a democratic movement. And they used the existing laws against democracy. This was possible because every government since 1919 always had its protection in mind, but talked about people’s protection, including the SPD. Yes, SPD again! ... Reunited by the leaders of U-SPD and M-SPD in 1922. The goal was a better voting result; all they got was an even greater distance from the people. In the end, the Nazis only needed to use the installed system to found the next tyranny ... In less than half an hour, I learned something about German history that they had forgotten to teach us at school. My father noticed us talking and meddled: »After the last war, the remaining Nazis crept under the protection of the CDU and Adenauer, who blackmailed them for his success. The SPD always tried to have a modern social estate of humanism!« Then he talked to me: »We must have an order to make our common goods function, and we have to protect this order at any time and any circumstances!« My grandfather asked: »At any circumstances ... Just like in the twenties or even the thirties?« and my father shouted: »We have to do our duty like every civil servant before!« – »Without thinking?« – »That’s not our duty, and someone has to do the dirty work at difficult times, if thinking or not!« I looked at my father in surprise, and he asked: »What do you mean: Am I a monster now?« We had a discussion: »Not a monster, ... only a coward, submissive to monsters!« – »And what about yourself, ... are you a coward having not studied something serious?« – »Yes, perhaps ... And perhaps, a coward because I did not get criminal either ... In that case, I would be at least responsible for my own decisions!« – »And what are you going to do now?« – »Perhaps I will find it out!«

»And, you decided to leave the police?« Aust’s story was not boring at all to John, and his bench neighbor was glad to notice this: »Not yet, although I indeed read Hannah Arendt and even Michel Foucault and Ingeborg Bachmann ...« – »Ingeborg Bachmann! ... what was it?« – »The Good God of Manhattan«. It opened my eyes ... But I was more of a coward than I thought. I knew there had been something going wrong in my life ... There was something wrong with me, having neglected so many things! But I am convinced now that things went the right way for me to become a different man: In the early nineties I joined a squad in Gütersloh« ... John meddled: »Oh yes, the Media Power Center of Europe!« Aust laughed: »Yes! ... but in this case, I had to do with the power of the LWL!« – »Landschaftsverband Wesfalen Lippe?« – »Exact! In a clinic, a nurse had killed several older patients by poisoning them with overdoses or injecting insulin. The case was clear, and the perpetrator had confessed. But we had to check the staff for being involved in any case. The nurses informed us that the hospital management had been warned long before because of missing medications, unexplained circumstances around this nurse, and sudden emergencies ... without any management’s reaction. But we had a briefing not to investigate in this direction: the clinic manager was a prominent neurologist, and the administrators were an experienced rope team. They gave a statement not to initiate any personal consequences for the management; in fact, they felt responsible for their patients, and those should not be left alone. What they did not publish was the following cleanup among the clinic staff: all those nurses who had recognized and announced the incidents around the investigated crime were now mobbed by transferred to other hospital wards, or they lost their jobs with a dubious indication of reason. Most of the transferred employees lost their jobs later, too. One nurse was written up with the order to meet the nursing service manager for a conversation at 8:30 in the morning. That was the duty time for the management, but not for the nurse who had finished her night service at the Neurologic Station at 7:00. So, she had the option to wait or drive home and return in one action, not to be late for the conversation. She couldn’t believe this: it had been her tenth night duty, having nursed thirty patients with brain tumors, strokes, spinal disc herniation, or dementia. She had worked for ten hours a night but got paid for nine because of a subtracted break, but she had no break because of working alone. So, she did not meet the service manager but went home to her sleep and called the works council afterward to tell them her problem. The answer was: »The management is entitled to invite their employees for a conversation. In your case, it’s even more: contacting you means caring for you and your well-being! And you cannot request them to care for you during your working time at night, can you? This was incredible: the works council! ... She had never contacted these folks before, and it would never be repeated! A few days later, she got a letter from her employer: a warning because of »neglecting an official instruction«. She contacted a lawyer, and he promised to help her against this outrageous approach and that he would take care of her not have to appear for this kind of conversation. Next was a writing from the lawyer that she should better have this conversation, and he would join the appointment to support her. Although she could not understand it, she followed his instructions and had to listen to all the vulgarities the management had prepared for. The last thing she learned was to have the option to leave the LWL with an excellent employment reference, with her lawyer harmonizing this line and presenting her with an invoice for his fulfilled mission. When she left the management office, the lawyer continued speaking with the management and wishing his client all the best for her future.«

The constable reacted thoughtfully: »Could you verify her story?« – »Indeed, I can! I have every document about that case because I have the nurse ... she is my wife now, and we have a little son. She worked further for some years in the new »Mobile Nursing«... for Caritas, Diakonie, AWO ... and always received excellent references without needing a lawyer for this. But she changed her job every time again because of the same system in any case: dubious conditions for the patients and the nurses as well, with fraudulent billings and salary payments. When I finished my studies, she became my professional assistant and my financial manager in one person. And she does it excellently! She is experienced in being cheated and knows how things must go right. On this journey, she came with me to England, and presently she is on a shopping tour in London with her sister and our little one, while I was at a congress in Exeter ... Oh, my God! I’m talking all the time; I’m sorry! ... Tell me, what happened to you after your lecture had been canceled?« John made a soothing handwave: »This was very fast: on the same evening I got a telegram from the chief constable, Martin Sende telling me that my service was no longer needed ... I had never thought that things had gone the way you just told me; I had never thought that of all things it was this clever woman! Do you know what she is doing now?« – »Yes, Roswitha made her way ... First, she led a squad against drug trafficking in the East of Germany. They stormed a flat, shot the family dog in self-defense, and dragged the people out of the house. When it was clear that it was the wrong flat, they indicted the couple because of resistance against the state power and for libeling officials. Of course, they did not call it »resistance against state power« but only »resistance« because the state should not be called something like »violent«. For Roswitha, this mistake had no consequences. Her superiors remarked on the wrong razzia but praised her correct planning and action. Her next mission was joining a task force against terrorism: a member of a left-wing terror group was shot near Schwerin. The task force was dissolved later because the police report did not match the investigations of some journalists, who had reconstructed the action and had asked witnesses. The witnesses and the journalists were threatened, and the court did not condemn anyone. Our heroine, however, climbed the stairs to the interior ministry. She told me this by herself without any scruples. Then, she congratulated me for having resigned from my police job, telling me that no one can stand this hard job without making a difference between career and privacy ... And she explained the background of protecting a country: »It’s like a big map with every street and all narrow paths. Our job is to keep those ways free for the traffic, and nobody cares how we keep these ways clean as long as the traffic rushes. Of course, there are dead-end streets too, ... but they are installed for the freethinkers. So, try to be mobile, and everything will be okay ... Most of the roads have signposts anyway!« When I asked her how to live with knowing this and without any conscience, she demonstrated to me her unscrupulousness: »Nietzsche said, »If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you!« I tell you my view, my boy: »Fighting against monsters, you have to act like a monster; that’s the only way to abolish them!« I answered: »Or you get even more monsters ... look into the mirror, and you look into the abyss! So, your only decision was to be a monster or not to be a monster ... how poor!« She answered: »Be careful and think about who you are talking to: I’m not a sociopath but only logical: women love to be powerful too, and I will use any advantage of my time, that’s all!« ... I think Roswitha Elpers can invent monsters, if that helps her to be successful!« His opposite smiled pensively: »She will not be the first ... and the modern media will help her: The medium is the message, and the world will be a global village!« – »Do you think Marshall McLuhan was a fascist or a genial visionary?« – »Look at his enthusiastic writing and compare it with the newspapers in Hitler Deutschland: perhaps he was only a sadistic analyst ... But I have a question for the psychologist: do you think that Roswitha is a modern woman?« – »Oh no! She’s old-school dregs! That has nothing to do with her sex ... Who has no character must, for better or worse, acquire a method!« The constable nodded: »Albert Camus: »The Case«!« Aust looked at his watch: »Oh, it’s late! I wasted your time and must hurry now. I’m sorry, Sir!« Webster grabbed his arm: »Please tell me something before you go: what kind of world do you wish for the people ... what’s going wrong at the time?« Aust did not hesitate: »If the world needs an order, this order must be changed ... by humans who do not order but demonstrate their responsible freedom as an example. But peaceful people who do not show anything of an alpha animal are welcome, rather as slaves than as leaders. The modern winners may be younger and look nicer ... in the end, they are the same old barbarians! Maybe this world had her best chance in the past, but these traces get blurred increasingly by lobbyists, who change our history with new definitions, even turning the words of great humanists upside down ... I want to give you something ... I think you will understand me without me explaining it ... I bought it in Crete and have carried it with me since that day. I would be glad if you take it now!«#

Aust had gone, and only this small picture demonstrated that he had been here. John nearly caressed the postcard and put it carefully into his uniform jacket, thinking, »This man tries to be an example for humanity ... and I have a license to be an outlaw.« Then he got up and went to the next shop for a picture frame. After this, he entered the office, expecting his colleagues to come back, while Tiffy secretly vanished through the back door, carrying a big wrapped picture to her sports car.#

When he arrived at the Power Slide Inn, he met Dorothy and Rob, who proudly demonstrated his document for the fastest lap in his private fight on Thruxton, signed by Angus Watson, an official member of B.A.R.C. at Thruxton Circuit ... That wasn’t quite right, because Angus had become a pensioner two years ago, but for the Classics, he would be an official for the rest of his life. The frame of Rob’s document was nearly as large as the wrapped picture that had been laid by Tiffy on one of the pub tables, even though it was just showing a postcard, but this had to be because it should be fixed on the wall of fame behind Dorothy’s bar, exactly beside the holy portrait of Albert; the frames should be of the same size.

Rob was farewelled by Dorothy’s kisses, a big lunch package, and everyone’s waving. Now, Dorothy was nosy about the wrapped something on the table ... but, above all, she was curious about why John was working behind her bar. She should be surprised: a postcard in a big frame and a big mount with a word on it: »Dorothy«!

She felt deeply touched and took the policeman into her arms: »Thank you, my dear!« John looked at her, smiling: »Do you remember our beginning?« – »How could I ever forget it ... He asked me if I would like to change my way of dreaming my life into living my dream! I only would have to get along with a crazy constable, once known as »The Wild Webster«. I knew this name and was impassioned! ... it was on the boat, just after my last day in Brussels!« John laughed: »He is boat-affine! On my way back from Germany, he told me something similar ... I had supported his crew in an operation years before, and now I met him again on the ferry: he had a job for me! Some years later, he came to me and asked if I had heard about the »Witch of Brussels« ... of course I had!« - »But you had the advantage of knowing him, and I never understood myself why I trusted him even though he did not tell his name ... it must have been his charm! When I heard something about Agent Merlin later, I knew that I had been right!« John smiled, saying nothing. What should he have said at all? Perhaps something like, »Oh, my dear, you fell for the charm of an East European greengrocer pretending to be a Greek cook and never met Merlin ... but Korsakov!«? She probably would meet none of them again!

Arm in arm, they gazed at the new picture on the wall: the Sign of Ariadne and the peaceful Taurus! These symbols demonstrated the highest standard of culture during the Bronze Age. Two symbols for over 600 years of peace on Crete. John remarked, »The Minoans admired their women as goddesses because they possessed the power to give life ... An unchanged feature to this day!« Dorothy pretended to be offended: ... »And if I get no children?! ... But, perhaps you can help me a little bit to become a goddess!« John again had a reason to smile: »What do you mean by »a little bit«? Do you perhaps want to become a little bit pregnant?«

... John carried a package upstairs. There were no guests in the pub at the time, and Eric would come to prepare the kitchen in about an hour. The wind played with the half-opened entrance door, and the street was empty.#

Maledetto Tedesco!

The refectory of the hotel was still empty when Arthur had his breakfast. He was thinking about yesterday ... Everything had gone very well. He hadn’t had to appear at any appointments because every notary and business partner had appeared in Debbie’s show, and even Dorothy had harmonized in her way, his actions. But why had this Dottore Moretti insisted on his delivering the Italian Goddess home to Modena? ... The deal should have been finished yesterday, and now he had to go to Italy because of these extravagances. Taffy joined, and his »Smae!« was answered by a half-lifted hand. Taffy went on: »What’s the matter?!« – »Moretti! Why shall we do this now? I already thought I was on my way home! ... Do you know if he is a member of the Barca family at all or only their lawyer?« Taffy shrugged his shoulders: »He took you at your word: »We bring this car back the same way it came to England: over the roads!« ... You can be happy that we can take the Great St. Bernard Tunnel, which wasn’t there in 1954! But why do you complain? Italy in May!!« – »Yes, ... you are right: I love Italy too ... exciting landscapes and people ...« - »Exciting women!« ... »Yes ... exciting women. ... but this snooty »Dottore« excites me most!« Taffy laughed at Arthur: »You should look at yourself now! I’m sure this will be fun, and perhaps they’ll give you a medal in Modena ... or you will be introduced to your new customers!« Arthur waved it off and had his breakfast.#

The little convoy had reached Martigny and entered the tunnel. Nothing seemed to go wrong, and Arthur asked himself why he was so nervous. Taffy was behind him, and there was no heavy traffic on the road ... Perhaps it was the feeling that there was no escape on their way through the mountain, but what was so different from any similar traffic situation? Arthur did not understand himself ... They had to stop at St. Pierre, the state’s border with Italy, in the middle of the tunnel. As both cars drove on again, a police car drove in between. Of course, this did not mean anything, and what at all should it mean? In Arthur’s head, Dorothy was talking: »Are we a little paranoid again?« At the end of the tunnel, the traffic was diverted to St. Remy because of road construction. After leaving the motorway to Aoste, the Barca had a green light and approached a road fork, while the cars behind him got a red light. The signpost to Aoste pointed to the right turning, and the sign for »dead end« at that point had been crossed out with tape. The following vehicles were stopped by the police car at this place. A uniformed woman handled the signposts and even removed one.

Arthur wondered about this empty road leading the traffic from the tunnel to Aoste ... and its sudden end in front of some woods and a dirt track to the left. He tried to reverse into the dirt track. But he could not finish this turning maneuver: the two men in uniform stood at the edge of the wood on the other side and pointed their pistols at the part of the windscreen with the driver’s seat behind, shouting a gibberish of Italian, English, and German. Arthur got out of the car and answered Dorothy first: »What do you say now?« Then he smiled at his nervously acting opposites: »Sorry, Gentlemen, I won’t lie down or do anything else you try to ask me for because I could never forgive myself for that shame in the hereafter. You should shoot me standing and face-to-face, please!« He reached into the pocket of his shirt and demonstrated a package of tobacco: »Ultima cigarette, capisce?« The men stood rooted, talking loudly to each other, moving their free hands in a theatrical way, but not changing the positions of their weapons, giving Artur the feeling of still being addressed. So, he went on: »You speak superb English, and even your German has some artistic aspects! We will have a lovely conversation when your colleagues arrive!«

The noise of the police vehicle had stopped, and Taffy had some difficulty not crashing into it when he suddenly had to brake. Arthur was still asking himself what had happened instead of what was happening now. One officer jumped off and rushed into the woods, Arthur commenting, »That’s Italy: thousands of people and no loo; there are some more people in the bushes! ... already finished? That was fast!« He finished rolling his cigarette, and the policewoman asked: »How did they look?« Arthur lit the cigarette and laughed: »You know how they looked because you know where they vanished!« – »Rubbish! You are looking in that direction, where they vanished. That’s why ...« – »I tell you something: They looked like policemen and behaved like policemen: impertinent and violent! ... eh, there was something special: they talked like Italian policemen!« The young lady officer looked confused: »How did you find out that they were not real policemen?« Arthur pretended surprise: »No policemen? ... are you sure? ... I was told to lie down on the ground; that’s not amusing but typical ... but you might be right: they did not shoot!« - »Why didn’t you do what they told you? You could have been killed!« Arthur became patronizing: »Madam, I’m doing all the time things that others tell me to do ... At some point, it’s enough!« – »At this moment? This is stupid!« – »Then tell me the right moment. I think you are experienced in rituals of violence! And stop explaining my situation; let me tell you something about your situation!« Taffy meddled: »Signora, he is still shocked!« – »What is our situation!?« The wood runner had joined the group, and his face uncomfortably approached Arthur. Arthur answered, not flinching: »I might be shocked, but I know what I say! And I say, You want to sell me a robber tale! Nobody in Italy would dare to steal this car! This is fake from the beginning! The Italians are patriots, and the Barca family is a part of Italy. Did you ever watch a Formula One race at Monza? I was there in 1988. After the race, the winning cars were left standing on the track when the »spectators’ running« of Monza started: The circuit was filled with people, and after the crowd had disappeared, the two Ferraris were still standing, having not been touched by anyone!« Arthur was not sure if this was a bad example or whatever ... It had caused the carabiniere to fall into a routine: »When did you watch the race at Monza?« Arthur replied, puzzled, »11 of September! You can ask the men who joined the victory ceremony. From the podium, they had a good overview; perhaps they had seen me among thousands of spectators! But before questioning Gerhard Berger, Michele Alboreto, or Eddie Cheever, you should call Dottore Moretti and ask him to collect his car! I guess you have his telephone number!« Two helpless officers withdrew to their helpless official car. The conversation inside seemed as loud as it could be seen from outside. Then the doors opened again, and the man in the driver’s seat moved his head, which was similar to a nod, but in the opposite direction. Arthur understood and reacted the same opposite way: He returned to the car and stepped between the open door and the hardtop, facing the police vehicle and leaning back with crossed feet and arms. The stressed officials left the car, and the woman’s stern look made her colleague shut up. Now she approached Arthur with open hair and holding her cap in her hands: »We ... Dottore Moretti cannot come ...« Arthur laughed: »If you have not called him ...!« The woman got as angry as she was helpless: »Stop laughing at us, it’s not our fault!... It’s Moretti’s idea!« So, it was out! ... and a triumphing Arthur caught the view of an unsettled Taffy, who did not seem to understand. Now, Arthur made a step forward to the officer: »You have one choice now: you can shoot and bury us, or you can tell us the whole story, and we decide to play your game or not!« There was a sound of silence. No bird dared to tweet while something was working in her head. She sat down on the remaining piece of a wall belonging to a dilapidated house and made an inviting hand movement. This time, the Englishmen followed.

After they had gotten up, the two officers took their pistols and shot into the air. This was the start of hell: Arthur could not detect from where all the noise of police cars was coming, and when they appeared on the dead-end road, there was even a broadcasting van between them. Arthur’s hand hit his forehead: »Not Moretti, ... Debbie!« - »You’re wrong! She got no broadcasting license for Italy; this was made clear by Moretti himself!« Taffy’s reaction caused an asking look from Arthur, but there was no time left for asking: the TV people directed, and everyone else acted. The woods were closed off from all sides by the police, and by the way, they chased away a loving couple on the other side. Now the show started with the victim of a brutal attack nursed by a young policewoman in front of the green car ... Then: police woman with Arthur’s Basque cap (in front of the green car) ... Arthur with his cap and a cigarette (...), last order: »Arthur with Che Guevara cap, cigarette, and gun!« This was too much! Arthur shouted, »No!« Last scene: Several caring people calming an excited victim of a brutal attack, facing a worried Dottore Moretti, who had come immediately to aid his friends from the green car; that was better than anything else! Finally, Moretti announced publicly a reception of the British guests and their rescuers in Étroubles; ... and that they would stay for the night. Arthur murmured, »Unbelievable!« and Taffy added, »This is called an offer that you cannot refuse!«

Arthur was filled with resistance against this, and his body speech caught everyone by surprise. He went straight to Moretti’s driver, shouting, »Torna a casa! Il Dottore Moretti prende l’auto Sportiva!« Then he took the passenger seat of Taffy’s Reliant, talking like a stranger: »Follow the sports car, please!«... But it took some time for Moretti to leave the place with the sports car ... because of his surprised face having been looking a little too long in Arthur’s direction.

They reached a big, venerable house, with a large wall around it, and an entrance road getting closed in immediately by a big wing gate after the Barca had arrived in the inner yard. Taffy wanted to say something nice about this old house, comparing it with the French village, but stopped talking when the staff pointed to the unpaved parking opposite the hotel on the other side of the road. He finished with, »... not so friendly, indeed!« Arthur was glad about these circumstances: »... the best, what can happen!« Taffy was surprised: »Why that? They treat us like ...« – »So, we can react if things get worse! We'd better drive the car away later.« Taffy was alarmed: »What do they want from my car?« – »Not your car! Our chance to disappear matters, whether farewelling or not!« Taffy shook his head and followed Arthur into the reception. The hotel looked very exclusive. A small reception, an expensive ambiance, and the foyer was a passage to a hall, separated from the inner yard by a vitreous gallery. Arthur had a complete overview of the former horse stables, having been reused as domiciles for exclusive cars, to the ballroom diagonal to him, and having the same vitreous separation. But all of this romantic style wasn’t romantic for Arthur, who only had an eye for those dark-blue-dressed security staff wearing walkie-talkies.

»Mister Lombard and Mister Ryder from the Orchid Classic Manufactory? Welcome to our house. You belong to Doctor Moretti’s guests, and I only ask you to sign here!« The friendly, multilingual young woman made Arthur distrustful. That wasn’t her fault: »Doctor Moretti’s guests« was the trigger word. Arthur reacted without thinking: »Excuse me, Madam, I’m not sure if we belong to Doctor Moretti’s society ... we prefer booking our rooms for the Orchid Classics!« – »I’m sorry to tell you that our house is reserved for this society; we have no vacant rooms for you ... but, if you want to talk to Doctor ...!« – »No, thank you, Madam!« Arthur turned to the entrance to leave and met Moretti on his way ... »Mr. Lombard, we should talk!« The wardrobe, which looked like a blue-suited security man, obstructed the way out: »Doctor Moretti wants a talk with you!« – »And I want to leave now!«

Having not noticed Moretti nodding in the background, Arthur was surprised by his successful leaving the hospitable house. When they reached the Reliant, Debbie jumped out of a little hire car: »Hey, you two, look at the pictures we made!« Arthur was in a panic: »Not here! And hide your camera!« Debbie reacted quickly: »Okay, follow us!« Two cars sprinted from the unpaved parking and left some dust behind, and they were pursued ... by nobody!

Taffy followed Bob back to an abandoned company property near St. Remy-en-Bosses, just next to the closed motorway from Martigny to Aoste. This point had a perfect overview, and Debbie explained the pictures on the camera display: the installation of the traffic lights and the signpost, their cleaning up after the bluff, the trap, the policemen waiting, the close-up of trapped Arthur and the running cops, and finally, themselves, just before getting scared away as a loving couple by the same policemen. Arthur turned away and walked up and down. He was angry: »Who told you the time and the place?«... »We told them, Signore Lombard!« A beautiful lady in a red dress approached from the entrance of an old wall behind them, slowly followed by a backward-driving police car. Arthur recognized her as the policewoman from the morning. Any other circumstance would have motivated him to swear that she was unrecognizable now. She went on talking: »I must confess: you made it not easy for us, but I still hope to convince you to help our operation!« Arthur stood like a statue: »To convince me ... What story did you tell us to have your show this morning? ... it wasn’t all of it was it?! Debbie, Bob, what’s the name of the game?« He was answered by the police lady: »We could not risk being observed; that’s why we hired the most dangerous observers by ourselves! ... and having your cooperating friends helping us ...« – »... means the option to fool all of us! Thank you very much; this was convincing me enough ... that had not been necessary: I know your complete arsenal of violence, crime, and the claim that it is for our protection ... but I must confess: a very creative kind of asking for help and an experience for the rest of my life! I don’t even want to know what kind of help you want from me ... the journey is the destination, and I don’t like your ways! Debbie, Bob! How could you do this... Come on, Taffy ... we go home!« – »Mr. Lombard!« - »Arthur!« ... Taffy shouted, »And I won’t leave without my tools and instruments!« Arthur turned around with an open mouth: »Your tools? ... where are your tools ... stop: what’s in the drawers? What are you transporting in our service car?« Taffy answered hesitantly: »Twenty million Swiss francs ... black money!« – »Okay, not currently!« the lady added to Taffy’s surprise. Arthur sat down on the bricks, the rest of a former wall: »You got them out of Lausanne ... that’s why you refused to drive the sports car! What the hell did you miss at home? ... didn’t you have more than this fucking money? And how do you think to get rid of me now?!« Debbie broke into tears: »You do not understand anything; I knew that thing would go wrong together with you! Don’t you think that in this world there are people who fight crime the same way as John would do?«

The lady in red meddled, wanting to enlighten a confused-looking Arthur: » None of us wants this money! We want the people behind the money!« – »So, arrest those people! Having their money means knowing the gangsters ... Why do you need so many witnesses? The shortest way between two points is a line, and your actual mathematical fraction could have been solved with shortening, but you prefer expansion ... Does this come from counting together one and one, like the TV commissioners? In this case, you will have to count a lot that does not match!« The lady rolled her eyes: »It’s not so easy if the gangster is a politician sitting in the EU parliament and whose name is »Perrucchi«! ... My name is Gianna Cinquetti, and this is my partner Giacomo Pagani!« On the keyword, the policeman of the morning left his driver's seat and waved a »V« with two fingers into the group. The only one to answer with the same symbol was Arthur, but this should not mean that he was harmonizing Gianna’s words: »If these are your real names or your codenames, don’t matter, and in case of any casual entertainment, the only thing I would have to do, was to confess, that your 're look is spectacular!« Bob had held weeping Debbie the whole time in his arms to comfort her and to do something useful, but now he noticed her giggling on his shoulder, or better: on his lower chest. Soon, Arthur sat facing a laughing group. He got up: »You have been involved, and I was caught!« Debbie heaved the camera: »You seemed to have your fun too!« – »I nearly died of fear!« Being aware of some worried faces, Giacomo tried to mediate: »Nobody was permitted to initiate you, Arthur ... to avoid you canceling your journey to Italy! It was our only chance to transport the money illegally across the border, and according to Perrucchi’s planned action, and to let him feel safe!« Gianna went on: »We are an organization of judges, lawyers, and police members who try to do their job right and not only: politically correct. Moretti had been infiltrated to join Perrucchi’s gang of investors and followed Perrucchi’s idea of using the Barca deal for transporting the money. This was lucky for us, because Moretti is the lawyer of this family, a symbol of a loyal Italy, just as you once said, Arthur!« Arthur did not feel flattered by Gianna calling him by his forename: »I guess that was the most important reason to win the auction ... and you must have been rushing too if this fast inspection in Lausanne had something to do with your plans. But wasn’t that a little expensive for the Barca?« Gianna’s voice took on an authoritarian tone: »The family wanted this car, and you sold it, and that’s all that a dealer needs to know!« - »So, you managed to get my folks to do a crime, hoping that a famous car and its accompaniment won’t get checked at the border or anywhere else by uninvolved colleagues ... and because of the TV broadcasting, we are well known to everyone, whether the good or bad ones! That means something more than usual that this dealer knows! And if anyone took away some money from these twenty million, innocent people would be hunted by the Mafia and the police as well! I see: you know, how to shorten mathematical fractions! ... and what about my appearance on the scene, being a victim of car robbers?« Gianna got nervous: »We... we needed something unexpected for Perrucchi ... to get him out of his cave. Delivering the money into his house means: having nothing in his hands against the immunity of a parliamentarian. He must be caught in the act! ... you are right: your friends and the service car are well known ... But we told a story about a driver not knowing what he was transporting; and I promise: we get all the gangsters, and we will protect you!« Arthur had to laugh: »And you are used to sending condolence cards, aren’t you? So, how does it go further? I’m sure: your parliamentarian already got his money and vanished in a taxi, called for him by someone from your team!« Arthur gazed at incredulous and frightened faces. Giacomo opened the back door of the police car: »No, he didn’t!« He opened four suitcases, everyone filled with banknotes. Arthur understood and helped to carry them to the British service car. Debbie shouted: »And why do you assist those unscrupulous liars now?« – »What’s the matter? They are doing the same as John would do, don’t they?!« Gianna felt obliged to give some more information: »Perrucchi is in contact with Moretti, and we have an object under investigation, where we expect the transaction. He has no other choice but to come himself, there is too much around Moretti here!« The inner police car made some noise, and Giacomo got in touch. Then he shouted something to Gianna, and the car left with complete sounds and lights. Gianna asked for a driver, and she looked into petrified faces, but Arthur was already standing like a chauffeur beside Taffy’s car, opening the door for the lady.

Bob was the first to comment on the leaving scene: »What was that now?« Taffy complained: »Hey, that’s my service car!« and Debbie murmured, »No ... John would never have done this!«#

Arthur had to take the road back to Étroubles: »I’m sure you need a driver because the steering wheel is on the wrong side?!« – »Eh, exactly!« – »Debbie is right, you’re a liar!« – »I’m surprised, having even you at our side ... That came suddenly!« - »Do not think having me on your side: my only motivation is your success, for saving the others! You need a hostage to keep them calm; that’s the reason for needing a driver ... we are in the same problem! But I bet I’ll regret helping, soon!« A black limousine approached and met their way ... »Okay, I regret it!« Gianna convinced him not to stop and turn: »That’s Walther, Moretti’s chauffeur! He is harmless!« – »Oh yes, I’m sure, he only wants to play!« – »No, he will lead your friends back to the hotel; the little car will be collected later ... It’s too dangerous here!« – »Hark! ... too dangerous now? How dangerous has it been before?! And do not say, My friends... I have no friends!« – »Oh yes, I can imagine this ... You are too clever to have friends, aren’t you?« – »No, only too awkward!«... - »We are going to take the dirt track left-hand ... under the viaduct, you will leave the car, and Walter will pick you up on his way back!« – »Oh, I see: we are far enough for you to let the cat out of the bag!«#

»A nasty cat! She is a sassy girl! Sie chaben mich überrumpelt, odr? Daas ischt nich-kt in Ordnung-k!« Walther was talking about a heavy incident in a calm but funny way. His Swiss dialect sounded like pushing the brakes on a gravel road. Arthur’s eyes investigated the inside of the small vehicle: they had taken out their equipment ... that was Debbie! Walther did not take him to the hotel but the opposite way to a road leading up a hill, where Debbie had watched the lights of the police car vanish in the woods.#

The lights of the police car were still on, and there was a loud conversation between Giacomo and a drunken man at the entrance of a standing-alone house: »Fammi entrare!« – »No, questa non é la tua casa! ... Sopra! Li porterò li!« A van came up the road and shot past honking, and Giacomo reacted, shouting: »Guida davanti al prossimo albero, sei stronzo! Io sono la polizia e chiedo rispetto!!« Giacomo had to struggle to get the man into the car. Inside, the conversation calmed down: »He is there only with his driver; the car is behind the house, with its back to the garden!« – »Where are the local cops?« – »... Investigating the wrong object in Aoste ... just as having been planned!« – »Good idea, to disturb with this scene! He called us himself to bring you away!« The car drove through a small bend, up the hill, and stopped again: the policeman seemed to still have some trouble with his drunken guest. The lights of a car coming up a dirt track behind the house were watched in the back mirror, and the police car drove on with turned-out lights, passing a van hidden behind some bushes. A few minutes later, a police car rolled slowly down the road again, Giacomo sitting alone.

Moretti had watched the light code Giacomo had given from the hill, and the British service car had reached the garden from the dirt track behind the house, and now it slowly took the paved way to stop near the black limousine. The senator appeared, and his driver joined Moretti to repack the cargo. Perrucchi was overjoyed by the appearance of Gianna: »Che incantevole! Sei di andare alla una festa!?« Gianna looked pleased and answered, »Si, è una festa per me arrestare un truffatore!« ... - »Mani in alto!« Perrucchi turned and looked at three rifle muzzles and a commissar holding his pistol with a steady hand and looking sober.

A group of vehicles stormed the hill now, led by Giacomo’s police car; then came a black luxury limousine with some laughing young people carrying complete broadcasting equipment, ... and at last, a small hire car with two persons, driven by a serious chauffeur who only tried to get back his limousine. The only journalists came from Great Britain, and the resume of everything was a laughing Bob, a happy again Debora, and a still head-shaking, worrying Arthur.#

Arthur had tried to escape Moretti’s speech. But entering the ballroom now, he was aware of him still holding his homage to the heroines and heroes of the police, who had saved an Italian goddess and a group of Brits, and arresting a criminal politician on the same day. Arthur asked himself why these complicated things were spoken out in public and interpreted in this special way ... It might have been because of the special public! Among the guests, he noticed two faces, one waving to him but changing direction at the same moment as he got slapped in his neck by the other ... Arthur looked for his folks, and he recognized the two tables next to those policemen who had to play false policemen in the morning. He only hoped not to have to sit at the same table with Gianna and Moretti, but he could have wished to be invisible for the same result. That had been impossible too, but perhaps more probable. A positive highlight was Walther, sitting with laughing Bob and giggling Debbie ... Arthur did not know because of Walther’s jokes or his dialect. On the table, there lay some photographs of Walther’s children, »a little sassy, and both of them studying at Geneva!«

Moretti finished his big talk and joined their table. At the same moment, Gianna got up to say something to the musicians on the stage who were just tuning their instruments. On her return, she walked straight to Arthur: »Do you dance the tango with me?« Arthur was alarmed: this could only be to make fun of him! ... He loved this dance ... he loved looking at people dancing their artistic tango, of course ... Argentine or Cuban Tango! His knowledge of even standard figures of English Tango was everything else but good, even though he had made some progress on the last »dance education days« in the Power Slide Inn. His lady partner had been Becky ... above all: Becky! ... They only harmonized at one special dance. Well, he could understand the other girls ... they just were not fast enough for it... what a pity! But now, he felt released, listening to the musicians starting to play: this was no tango! This had to begin with some tango figures ... That was easy, but to call this a tango was even more sneaky than he had ever expected! He guided the lady in red to the dance floor, and they danced to the song of Luis Prima: »Buona Sera Signorina«. He exactly knew when he had to stop tangoing and start a jive! »Jive!?« Gianna was in a panic now: that was much too fast for a jive! ... Not for Arthur: jive was his dance! Gianna preferred her rock and roll steps, and the spectators did not even recognize two different dancing styles because Arthur was able to lead, and Gianna was able to dance. Coming close to its finish, the song changed into tango again, but only to have its final fast showdown with an enthusiastic audience!

Arthur wanted to lead her back, but the lady held his arm. From the background, a harmonica was to be heard, and Arthur wished to be invisible once again: Blues?! ... not here, not now, and not with Gianna! Taffy must have recognized Arthur’s frightened look. He appeared immediately to ask her for this dance, and Arthur touched Taffy’s shoulder, being grateful. He left the ballroom to have a smoke. He loved standing alone under an old tree, watching the surrounding lights and listening to the music in the background, coming from the ballroom. It was Willie Dixon’s »Little Red Rooster«, which had been demanded next by Gianna, and Arthur was glad, having escaped this bloody brat ... Oh yes, she liked him! Coming back, he was celebrated again by the table standing next, and Gianna got up, talking loudly to them: »Non ha rispetto per la polizia, ma ha paura delle donne!« Arthur smiled at their laughing faces. He had learned to smile with a sinister face, and he once had learned a little Italian too: »Il rispetto va guadagnato, la paura è libera!« Walther translated to nosy Debbie: »She said that Arthur has no respect for the police, but he is frightened of women, and Arthur answered that respect has to be deserved, but fear is for free.« Now Walther’s table got laughing aloud, and not because of Walther’s funny Swiss dialect. The highlight was given by Taffy, who had listened to the conversation between Gianna and Moretti, now asking: »What does »Il maledetto Tedesco« mean in English? ... sounds like some exotic salad ...!« Arthur almost choked on his grappa, laughing: »You are right, and you don’t even know how much you are right! How do you name me when I’m absent and sometimes, even when I’m there? ...: »Mr. Sauerkraut«!« Debbie shouted, »That’s wrong: Dorothy has ennobled you; we say, »Sir Kraut«!« That was too much for Gianna: »Mister Lombard, are you not able to recognize even a friendly joke?« Arthur was not as surprised as he looked: »Oh, a joke! ... Yes, I heard you laughing, Signora!« – »Not Signora but: »Signorina«! I am not married!« – »Oh, indeed? I didn't know that this label was so important to you!« Moretti’s voice got an angry sound, but talking politely: »Signore, I would ask you to respect our traditions, please!« Arthur seemed to be ashamed ... for the twinkling of an eye: »Yes, of course, Sir! And please forgive me, Madam! ... but I have always considered traditions to be the fire and not the ashes to be preserved!«

Arthur had not wanted to do her wrong, saying »Signora«. But how should he have known better? He was coming from a country where they possibly would have sent him to hell or worse because of offending a woman, saying »Fräulein«. His actual problem was that every conversation seemed to end up in a disaster, which was accompanied by the circumstance that these two only wanted trouble anyway. And so, it went on with Moretti talking and Cinquetti giggling: ... »You do not like »every« Black music but »some«, as we could see ... do you, Mr. Lombard?« – »I like every kind of music, but it should be good music! ... If you wanted to say this! And I like »Black music« very much, indeed; but you are mistaken if you think that I don’t like blues! Blues is something special ... to dance with someone special! Back to your saying: Black music ... why don’t you say »N... blues« to the song »Little Red Rooster«? In the late seventies, I listened to a concert of Doctor Ross »The Harmonica Boss« at Bunker Ulmenwall in Bielefeld, Germany. The artist used exactly this word, and later we talked together having some beer. He told things about the living of colored people in America: about Chuck Berry, who wasn’t permitted to enter the public houses where white people played his music or even played his records; ... about Wendell Scott, who won the 1963 NASCAR-100 at Jacksonville, Florida, in his Chevrolet and did not get a victory ceremony because of being Black. And this Doctor Ross meant that a swearword, like N-blues, had become a quality term, a useful pair of shoes to kick those fascists in their asses! But I’m glad that you know »Little Red Rooster« was not written by The Rolling Stones ... even though I like their music most!« Artur looked at the wall behind the stage and something similar to a station clock: »Oh my God! I apologize for having wasted your time with my chatter ... I would rather not let the taxi driver wait!« – »Which taxi ...?« Arthur stopped his walking and turned half to Gianna: »I will call one after coming back from my room with my backpack! Dottore, you have the car, its papers, and its keys: the room will be free again, and our deal is done!«

At last, he waved farewell to his British mates. They already had their discussion, and they had decided to stay in Italy. That was not Arthur’s problem, or better, it was a different problem for him. The singers on the stage had swapped: now, a female voice interpreted a Tina Turner song about how to deal with a »Typical Male (1986)«. The song before had been from Bonnie Tyler about needing a hero coming home from his newest barbaric victory to make her happy (»Holding out for a Hero«, 1984). Perhaps this text had been written to commemorate the glorious Falkland War in 1982 rather than for a dancing movie. But it stood opposite to »*We don’t need another Hero« by Tina Turner (*Mad Max III 1985) again. All these songs were equally famous ... And they confused Arthur: When was he expected to be a typical man, and when to be the opposite ... or better, was his main problem not to function? He neither knew anything about »Typical« nor felt attractive enough himself to understand what others wanted any else than to make fun of him. In Germany, they had made him a sergeant ... A medical sergeant, once commanding a medical tank at maneuvers, being privately active in a political commune calling for peace, and always getting in trouble with both sides. ... Yes, fear was for free, and for that reason he had never been poor ... in this fucking ugly game they called life! How should he have felt like a hero at an age too young to vote but old enough to kill, and after having been forced by a democratic republic to defend the freedom of others ... Which freedom at all? His only rescue at that time had been the option to visit those crazy folks in Hampshire as often as he could ... They even supported his dream of doing motorsport, and they never asked him anything about Germany ... or Bielefeld.

»*Gonna be a beautiful town, Sweetwater!« – »*I hope you’ll come back someday!« - »*... Someday ...! (*Movie: Once upon a time in the West, Sergio Leone, 1968)« ... He did not know how long he had been sleeping after the start. It had been before the film had started. Now it was close to its end, and Arthur could just watch the last part: »*Addio a Cheyenne!« Arthur was never wearing a watch, so he did not know the time, and a brief look out of the oval window meant looking into the dark sky, not at the lights of any big town like Paris or Brussels. »Good evening, I hope you had a good sleep! My name is Bernardo Barca; you can call me Bino, as my friends do! Thank you for bringing home one of our most beautiful creations. I apologize for having had no time for a look at it yet. ... You are on your way home to Thruxton? I must go to Silverstone ... It’s a vicious circle: the German cars have won everything they could win this season!« – »This time you will be lucky! They come with streamlined car bodies ... No view to the front wheels, and it’s difficult to hit the exact curve vertex because of the oil barrels lining the inner sides of the bends ... even too difficult for Fangio!«

»Mister Lombard? Mister Lombard ... we have landed!« Bino had gone; ... he had never been sitting there: Bino Barca had died in the fifties, and Arthur had free space for taking his onboard baggage out of the carry-on luggage compartment and leaving his seat.#

Undefined Identity

Arthur had preferred to leave the taxi before reaching the village center and walk the rest of his way. Now, he quietly opened the front door of his house. Just entering, he was caught by the telephone ringing: »Hello, Dorothy! How long have you been peeping at my house behind your window? ... You are still in the pub? ... Yes, I arrived at this moment ... The others stayed in Italy! ... Gordon? ... Yes, that’s my fault ... and what?! Oh my God! ... No, you cannot say that ... No, that’s not »either my fault«! I did not tell Paddy to do this ... Perhaps we can help the young couple to start their business with a garage... And if you won’t, I will; it’s my money! ... Dorothy!! Yes, I know it’s not the money: you lost one of your chickens; that happens, and he is not dead ... He is in love! Oh, thank you very much. Of course, I don’t understand anything about this ... No, I will not come into your pub ... not into any pub with Dorothy Willow having her next nervous breakdown! ... No, I do not call you a monster! Sit and wait: there’s something tremendous to come, Dr. Jekyll! ... A special guest? Did Suwanay San arrive earlier? ... Okay, I’m tired, but I’m coming!«

He had not even taken off his backpack and was now standing in the entrance of the Power Slide, looking the same as he had some hours ago, as he had left the Italian ballroom. Noticing him coming, Gordon hurried to grab his »Old Timer’s News« and pretended to be busy reading ... in a pub at half past two in the morning! He could have even spared himself doing this because Arthur was not interested in looking at him at all ... He could not look at anything else but this, what he was watching. The young woman was sitting at the table next to the bar with its Wall of Memories in the background. He did not notice either the framed photograph in her hands that had left a bright square between the well-known pictures or the luggage standing beside her and wrapped in the sleeves of San Francisco Airport ... There was only this face: her face! Dorothy noticed something scary going on, something different from her surprised reaction at the arrival of this very woman ... She tried to reach Arthur, whose face turned from ghostly to a whiter shade of pale: »Arthur! This is Denise Schaffrath ... You know the ...!« – »Thelma! ... Sophie, Sophie Moore!« Having said this, Arthur did not move. He had turned into an unknown marble statue in a suit, wearing a beret on his red hair and a backpack. No crumbs had fallen from talking ... perhaps because the statue had said only a few words. But this statue did not lose anything even when it turned and left the room again into the dark without making any typical crunching noise ... A statue with tears in the eyes. Dorothy tried to get this horror scene out of her head, thinking of a comparison to something funny. That did not work, because she got stuck on a wrong comparison: a song by Procol Harum.#

She followed and found him standing in the place, his back to the entrance, lighting a cigarette, and watching into the empty. He was able to talk again, his cigarette moving up and down with his words: »I’m tired and going to bed now, and tomorrow you can tell me the real story if there’s something left of it.« – »Arthur ... is it necessary to give her a room in the pub, or ... ?« – »Not at all! Of course, she gets the house ... Her house, it’s a ghost house anyway! ... and it’s one more fucking dream, too!«#

Sally could not believe that this was reality: she had come to an English village far away from her country and was welcomed at home now ... How did she call her ... »Denise Schaffrath’?« That’s no typical name in Great Britain, probably not even here! »They have my picture on the wall with a baby in my arms, and they cannot agree about my name ... this Dorothy and this funny disguised Arthur. And nobody had asked me anything yet!« Nevertheless, she was lucky ... What should she have answered? She had an envelope with instructions on when it was to be opened, and this was not here and now. She could only imagine this was a game ... a kind of realistic »Clue« game; with how many players? The guy behind her seemed to be the only one who was not involved; surely, he was a guest from abroad, but reading a motor journal in a pub at this time? ... She looked once more at the framed photograph. The nice landlady had given it into her hand only with the words: »I know who you are: Take a look at this!« ... That woman looked similar to herself indeed ... How could that not be a fake? At least Dorothy’s early morning dinner had been real ... really fantastic!

Dorothy was horrified: what kind of story was this? How could she ever know that Arthur was still grieving so much? What had been his part in this thriller at all? ... Having been a child herself at that time, she had never heard about Popplebush or »New Popplebush«! ... She was glad to distract herself now because there was some work to do ... for her and Gordon. Something he did not know either ... not yet. But she was sure he would do her this favor ... because he did anything for her; since he had returned from France, he had preferred working hard in and around the pub instead of making one single step into the manufactory because he wanted to speak with Arthur first and find out whether to get along with him. Bill’s only comment had been: »Rubbish!«. She had tried to be more diplomatic by joking, »If you can’t get along with Arthur, we go to Scotland or Ireland and run a new pub, and John might tend our sheep!« And John had threatened to arrest them both for three days with nothing else but bread and water, and of course she had had the last word again saying, »So, we have to die of thirst and hunger: No cop in New Popplebush knows where to get bread and water for his cage guests without taking my help!«#

Gordon took Dorothy’s Austin Mini-Cooper (the only real one!) to bring the luggage into the cottage. The house had two residential units, and Arthur lived in the smaller part diagonally opposite Dorothy and John. The bigger one had an old barn attached to the historical building. This had been the house of Thelma and Andrew. It was deserted, but not empty. Everything was in its place, where it had been on the day when Thelma was the last to leave it, and she had never returned. It was only Mrs. Summers who cared about everything here. She kept it clean and even laid back the papers on the writing desk in their place afterward. She aired, heated, and made the beds every fortnight ... She seemed to wait for someone to come home. Mrs. Summers was a librarian, and she loved to care for and preserve old books like a treasure ... This house was her favorite book, telling a tragic romantic story ... No, it wasn’t just a book, and she felt like she was something more than a librarian in this case: she was the guardian of the Holy Grail! ... Even Arthur had stepped only once into this house to fetch a photograph from the mantelpiece and fix it on any of his walls. Gordon had no idea about this. He walked in without any reverence and checked the lights, the fuse box, and the water supply. By the way, he discovered a sleeping room upstairs. There, he dropped the hand luggage on the bed but left the trunks standing in the living room next to the entrance, because he could not imagine this nice little person unpacking them later in one of these tight rooms upstairs. Then he drove back and handed the car to the ladies. It would have been too small for them and the luggage. Walking home, Gordon passed by a house with light behind the windows. He did not know Mrs. Summers; he only wondered about people who could not sleep at night in such a calm village.

Of course, Arthur could not sleep either ... but he did not recognize it. The noise, coming from the other side of the wall to his living room, was the sound of the past; there was no need to close the sleeping room door ... It was only a dream. And those sounds did not even reach his consciousness; they only touched his fantasy, like a slipping clutch eating up the engine’s power. In his head, there was music ... There was mostly music in his head. This time it was Allan Parsons: »A Dream within a Dream«.#

Next door, a young, nosy lady started an investigation. »Welcome home!« This had been the last Dorothy had said to her, like a mother to her child ... She searched the house and felt comfortable ... like being touched by a friendly but mysterious world. She had started in the large living room with its big fireplace surrounded by a mantelpiece. It was the center of everything else: the entrance, the stairway to the upper rooms, the kitchen in the West behind the stairs, and the door to the bathroom behind the fireplace. She wanted an overview first; details were to come on the way back. The door to the South, straight at the end of the living room, led her to a kind of garage or barn with a collection of classic vehicles: the poor light demonstrated a beige/brown Austin Healey 100-4 and a green Frogeye Sprite. In front of the cars stood vis á vis two racing motorbikes remembering the times of Mike Hailwood. Incredible: Hondas! Sally turned off the light and closed the door. She had only to turn halfway to enter another room: something between a big sleeping room with a large bed, a living room with expensive furniture, and a museum for racing trophies: winner’s wreaths, silver cups, golden cups, and photographs. The room had an extra exit to the garden and a second door to the bathroom, just like the kitchen and the corridor to the living room on the opposite. But this was no second door to the bathroom; it was a second bathroom! Looking over the pictures, she was surprised: there was her again! ... Arm in arm with a race winner, and the winner was Andrew Moore! She knew him from articles about historic motorsport ... a famous Formula 2 and sports car racer. He had died in a horrific crash at Riverside more than twenty-five years ago. She was in his house! And this red-haired Arthur had mentioned Thelma and Sophie Moore ... Whoever this woman in the photograph was, she had to be twice as old now; no chance of being her double or ... whatever! This was a mysterious game indeed ... She had finished with the lower house now and went upstairs. A tiny third bathroom! ... The upper sleeping room had no Chippendale furniture but was more beautiful ... it was more feminine and kind of dinky ... just like the hippie-style clothes in the wardrobe and the comfortable mixture of living room and study next door. The glass door led to a balcony, and at its end, to a stairway into the garden. The door was unlocked ... Good in case of emergency, but not at robbery ... They probably did not know this word here. A newspaper on the writing desk! ... Not historic, less than two years old ... A German newspaper? ... »First overall long-distance win makes Denise Schaffrath a Ring Master! Is our »Ring-Flea« the daughter of Andrew Moore? The biologist Thelma Moore ... CIA agent??!!« Things came to fit, and she could not prevent saying it loud: »It’s not the woman in the photograph, it’s the baby! Do they want to sell me a twin sister in Germany ... and another mother too? A fucking game beginning with a fucking joke!!« A stone fell from her heart, released from a frightening assumption: Even if that was Andrew Moore’s house, everything else had to be fake ... The question should not be the question that was asked in this newspaper. The question she should ask herself was, »Who is Sarah Rubenstein?« And if there was ever something she knew, it was her life! She could remember every moment of her past from the day she got this beautiful gift from her father. This shining silver medal had started her to define the world around her ... Did her lovely parents know about those folks playing this sadistic psycho farce with her? She already knew some names of »those folks« now: Arthur Lombard, Dorothy Willow, Thelma and Sophie Moore, Denise, and Charlotte Schaffrath ... Probably more names than people ... But what was about the biologist Professor Doctor Alicia Adams, alias »Charlotte«: Charlotte Schaffrath alias Thelma Moore? That woman was as small as herself, and this was remarkable but not interesting ... so far! Probably because they had nothing else in common, had they? ... Mum was even a little smaller ... and there was nobody in her family at all who could be called tall ... So what ...!! She hurried to her carry-on luggage in the bedroom and opened the envelope: a German passport, a kind of instruction letter that consisted only of keywords, ... and a second envelope, »not to open now!« ... But ... at which other time??! The passport belonged to Denise Schaffrath ... who else!, living in Adenau at the Nürburgring. Everything else was the same as her own: birthday, birth year, size, the color of her eyes ... and it was her face looking at her from the small card in her hand, wherever »They« had gotten it from ... This village was nothing but a training camp for spies ... »For playing silly games, with fake pictures, fake newspapers, and fake passports and ...«, she took a look at the piece of paper: »Crazy godfathers! Okay, Uncle Arthur! ... let’s start, Dorothy Willow!« She suddenly recognized a mistake in her thoughts about her childhood: »... and began to define the world around me« ... This was rubbish: the word was »to identify«, not »to define« ... She knew that she could be so silly occasionally! Sarah Rubenstein was highly gifted in any cognitive things ... she only needed to read books or newspapers one time, and she could quote any detail, and if it were necessary, mention every grammatical or logical mistake. Her knowledge was good enough for this, but in the case of personal things, she always got in trouble with a different self that was telling rubbish. And so, this very short night became even shorter, with her awakening and finding herself sitting in this bed on the upper floor, startled and drenched in sweat, and having gotten hurt by the label pin of a silver medal she had kept too tightly in her hand.#

Looking into Arthur’s sleeping face caused him to wake up; at least he was convinced about that. He was even sure to notice every single moment when people looked at him, maybe because he felt observed most of the time ... This time, he did not know what had been first: the shining sun, right into his face, or the hypnotizing look of Steve McQueen, right through the glass door from the balcony. Arthur guessed: it was the cat! He asked himself if, when he had been to Italy, Dorothy had made this old scammer his second breakfast on this balcony after having fed him at home first, and he was sure: she had! Arthur had no other option but to get up and give the cat what a cat needs. Caressing the eating rover, he asked him, if he knew, what would happen if he looked into the abyss ... Instead of an answer from the cat, it was a question that made Arthur nervous: the question he had just asked himself, thinking about Dorothy feeding her cat on his balcony, and the nightmare he felt being in. Had he been to Italy at all? He carefully looked over the balcony grille: no green goddess was standing beneath it ... Has there ever been a Slimwall Special at all? This nightmare was going to make him crazy, and he had already been aware of it from the first sunbeams ... but there had been a cat to be fed first! The last scary moment had been Thelma calling for Sophie in his dream ... No, it was different: she had called out, »Who is Sophie?!« Now, there was a ringing from the front door. So, he looked over the balcony, shouting: »I’m here!« The young girl came around the corner and looked up: »It’s me, Denise, Uncle Arthur! I wait for you at the door, ... we are invited for breakfast at Dorothy’s!« ... OK! ... No dream or still the same nightmare! Whoever knows, ... and there was indeed Thelma standing, looking just as twenty-five years ago! He washed and dressed up, mechanically but fast, and rushed downstairs. Then he stopped: This was not real; he had finally completely lost his mind. This had been to be expected for a long time; however, it came suddenly! He slowly opened the door with fear and looked around, as if someone could witness »his conversation with nobody«. There was nobody! ... except this mysterious, lovely young woman!

Sarah had already watched this behavior last night, and if this man was as crazy as he looked, it could be no big risk to ask him straight; it couldn’t get worse. So, she did, as they began to walk: »Did you know my parents well?« Arthur whispered and pretended to be alone, even though walking next to her: »Yes ... they were my friends ... my only friends!« – »You loved my mother, didn’t you?« Arthur did not pretend anything, standing like a statue again: »What ... who told this ...« – »You told it ... but in other words! It’s not a crime, having loved her!« – »Not: »having«!« This was surprising to her: »Do you ... do you believe that she is still alive?« - »Hope means to be the worst evil. It prolongs the suffering!« This was from Nietzsche, but he had not mentioned it, and she did not dare to. His words matched his sad eyes, so she decided to be satisfied with his questionable answer. Arthur did not understand himself, and he was near go back into the house. The woman took his arm, and he looked at her in disbelief, but calmed down: »Your mother was at your age. She was very clever and already had a doctoral degree as a biologist, ... I’m not very intelligent, and so, I didn’t dare to talk much when she was present, but I loved being in her society, and she never made fun of me ... She was a good woman! She was able to inspire every community she was involved in and kept people together by handling them in her friendly way ... Just like Dorothy does!« This new Denise had hit the mark! So, she asked, high-spirited: »Are you in love with Dorothy, now?« Arthur broke away: »No!!« ... She had gone too far, ... too far again! It was her social problem that caused these catastrophes. She could not know that he was used to those or similar female jokes. She only noticed that he hated those speculations. Her apology, »I’m sorry!« did not help it; she had to walk mute and ashamed behind him into the pub.

Arthur was still angry and confused as he entered. At least he was happier at John’s shouting, »Hey, you two!« It was the word »two« that released him. Dorothy herself was present but busy. She was looking into the New Popplebush Watchpoint and read aloud to the pleasure of all present. It was an article by the National News Service, and without any local comment, because Debbie was absent: »Scandal in the EU Parliament: Member of Parliament Rob van Leuven gave up his membership and made serious accusations against the deputies: Their de facto alternative creations would be not only violating the law but also human rights because the attempt to influence society with lies and deceit would be a personal intervention in the free-thinking of each individual. Thus, a large part of the European Parliament, the same as the silent rest, would have disqualified themselves as democrats. As a source, the professor of philosophy and jurisprudence named the guiding principles of Immanuel Kant. During his speech, the outgoing politician held a lantern in his hand. When asked why, he replied, »I'm looking for a human being!« Apparently, after the »Witch of Brussels«, the European Parliament now has to cope with the »Diogenes of Brussels«.

»Denise« felt intimidated: not because of this interesting article, which was to be recalled by her later, but because of the crowd cheering for this news. She was sure they had not come so early in the morning to listen to Dorothy reading a newspaper ... Or were these people not able to read themselves? Indeed, they all had come for her heroine, the homecoming »Ring Master«, the keeper of an old spirit, the baby from the picture on the wall of fame, the daughter of Thelma and Andrew Moore! ... So many players for one fucking game? ... She was shaking plenty of hands, uncountable for a stranger ... Not uncountable! She even would remember every face and every name belonging to each hand! She was introduced to Bill Whithers, the Classics Foreman: »Your parents were wonderful people ... my condolences, Madam!«; to the man who wasn’t a tourist from abroad and no lift boy but the new Classics’ Technical Director, Gordon Marsh: »It’s a great honor for me, Madam!«; and she was presented an old German newspaper, including the article she had already read. The last person to say hello was Debbie’s substitute from the local newspaper: »You are the first Ring Master I ever met. Are you working with elephants and lions in your show?« John could not resist meddling: »Yes, eight days a week at Piccadilly Circus in London!«

At the breakfast table, the feared questioning started ... with Gordon: »What is the feeling of having defeated the green hell of Eifel? That must be the dream of every racer!« Sally had her first problem: she had been to most international circuits successfully driving Grand Touring vehicles, but the Nürburgring she had never seen before, only on the screen of a simulating system. And her next problem was that she could not lie, so she tried to answer diplomatically ...: »I think nobody can say that! You have to leave hell first before claiming to have defeated it. Everything else is speculation!« Bill agreed: »You’re right! ... Your father said something similar: »Passion means you cannot resist looking into the abyss!« And Arthur murmured, »Must be the same as love« ... Sally wondered: This fellow had a problem and was not only playing ... What was he playing at all?

After breakfast, Denise was the first to help Tiffy collect the dishes, talk, and joke together. John laid his arm around his goddess: »Look, a Ring Master with domestic qualities!« Dorothy agreed, but: »Yes, that’s nice ... I throw her out now!« She entered the kitchen and returned with her arm around a Ring Master and marched her to Arthur and Gordon, who were instructed to put their dishes back on the tables and finally go to their business. But that took some time, Arthur replying, »Whatever you are looking for in my manufactory, you will have to wait for me to return from your kitchen first!« Laughing, Gordon picked up his dishes again, following the boss and being scolded by the Queen: »I will never make you a director once more, Judas! And you, Arthur, are a macho!« Arthur turned and heaved the collected dishes into her view: »Of course I am, but female machos aren’t any better!« and Gordon added: »But they look better!«#

On their way to the kitchen, they had a small talk: »Why does she mean to have to control everything?« – »Because she cares for everything ... she is everyone’s mother, above all, if someone gets in trouble!« – »You mean she’s a kind of mother hen?« – »I would call her a lioness! ... Some years ago, I had trouble with my staff because of an aggressive mechanic who had no extra qualities but talked big, and he tried to bring others against me. I get helpless in such a case if I feel responsible for people, even if they attack me. So, I walked the foot trail through the meadows and to a pub in Popplebush. I would rather not have any witnesses at home watching me drink a lot and finally get drunk like a barrel. After they had thrown me out for having had enough, the next police patrol put me into custody. An hour later, John arrived at the police station to take me home. But the guard insisted on not releasing me ... He was new, didn’t know his rules, and felt he had a higher standing than John. So, John left again. Suddenly, a heavy crash filled the whole building. Pulled by a grappling hook attached to the grid window of my observation cell, most of the wall had crashed down, and John dragged me out to the Land Rover ... In the driver’s seat: Doctor Dorothy Willow! The guard called the next higher instance for help and only got the order to determine the damage and call for a bricklayer ... and he should not worry: Doctor Willow would pay the bill! ... The nasty mechanic is our landscaper now. He is excellent and works for the whole village. Our company helped him to start by giving him some money because Dorothy had noticed that he was not bad but unhappy!« – »And Dorothy herself? ... I mean, how did she get here at all, after her time at the EU?« – »She just appeared ... Same as John, some years before ... One day he brought her ... asking me if she could lease this pub which stood deserted.« – »A well-known lawyer and politician asking you to rent a pub?« ... - »Yes, and she became our lawyer! ... Our lawyer, our manager, and our lady of the pub! Or, in other words: our mother! ... And if it suits you, our Mother Hen, who keeps a barn!«

When they returned, the Mother Hen began scolding again: »You have to do a contract, and you have to hurry but not eat through my supplies ... !« Arthur reacted by grimacing, and Gordon saluted, »Yes, Mum!«. Now, the four went to the company. Arthur and Gordon were softly pushed into the boss's office and told to sign their contract; Dorothy began to give Denise an overview of everything that was known to the Mother Hen, and that meant »everything« ... But she knew Arthur and his passion for fooling her.#

The contract was no difficult action for Gordon ... the text was trustworthy and written by Dorothy, and because of the last journey, he even knew about Arthur’s quirk. He once had doubted that Arthur would like him ... Later, he believed that Arthur wouldn’t stand any people. Now, he was sure: for this fellow, every day was a new challenge with old problems. This was sympathetic in some way: when Thomas Mann said, »Writers are people who find it difficult to write«, and Ernst Bloch added, »Philosophers are people who find it difficult to think«, then it surely was an Arthur who found it difficult to live because of being a lonely romantic ... And that shouldn’t say anything against Mann or Bloch, even if illiteracy, stupidity, and failure in life cause similar problems!

They had an old single malt at half past nine in the morning, and Arthur meant that it was Dorothy’s fault because she insisted on a contract at this time of day. After the contract was done, Gordon had his first question, depending on his workplace: »Why do you need a technical director ... do you want to slow down yourself?« – »Oh, no! ... It’s because of our partners ... We need an engineer for our Company ... I’m not an engineer, and it took some time for them to find out. Albert was an engineer, even an engineer for airplanes, like Colin, Mike, Frank, Keith, and all the others who made British race cars famous. At that time, this gang was inseparable, even though they had different projects on the track from time to time. Our company started on a farm here: only some cottages and not a village at that time. The bus stop to the West of our pub still has this old name: »Lombard Farm«. To earn some money, Albert finished parts, spares, and complete kit cars for one of Colin’s first market products, and to name it differently from the original label, he called his works »Orchid«. Every deal was decided by handshake, and even later, after the production of this famous model had been sold, we were involved: we are still finishing parts, spares, and sporadically a small series of complete cars, if necessary. The Asian market is still important, and we belong to those few manufacturers where you can buy new and old classic cars, all of them British-made. But in Europe, things have changed: we have to be certified! And if we don’t fulfill the conditions, we lose our partners in Caterham and Woking as well!« – »Did you say Woking?« – »Yes, we are specialists in handmade parts construction as well. Even for Formula One ... And you are the only engineer at the Orchids’ now, having a superb crew!«#

As they reached the two cars, they met the ladies again and looked into their asking faces. Gordon’s face soon joined their circle, watching the uncovered power units of the mid-engined classic racers, the aesthetic frames and rear suspensions, and ... outer crankshafts to each side: »Counter-piston engines! Are you serious ... Two Chevron B8 and antique two-stroke diesel engines for fishing boats?! ... Wait: I remember the »Junkers Jumo 205« from the thirties ... But this is different: cylinder heads in the middle of the engines with double ignition and valves ... You’re kidding me, that doesn’t work! If this were possible, the German »Ju 86« would have had those engines!« Arthur smiled with satisfaction: »Wow, your knowledge about technical history is impressive! But there’s a difference between car engines and aircraft engines: we need lower capacity and higher revs, and we have to avoid risking the stability of a flat-mounted engine! Bill created special cylinders with openings in the middle, on which we added the chambers from both sides as a cross-flow head. We have six pistons working in three cylinders. There are not four or even six, like the Junkers engine, because of the weight. Colin said, Strong cars are fast on the straight; light cars are fast everywhere. We wanted a strong and light car. The weight is the same as having a line-six-cylinder cut in the middle and set together again at their heads. The advantage for the pistons is an easy way up with high compression at the end. Two short-stroke ways lead to a long-stroke result ... piston speed is no problem!« Gordon was doubtful: »You cannot reach a high compression with a valve stroke between the pistons ... there must be too much space for the piston tips not to crash with the valves!« – »You can! There’s less space between the pistons than in the combustion chambers of most race engines because our motors have their combustion chambers inside the pistons: look at the valves mounted in hemispheres; that’s their working space ... outside the cylinders. The exhaust part under the car looks the same. And Paddy constructed a piston with a little smaller surface at its tip, just above the rings, so as not to scratch along the upper recess edges for gas exchange, as the two-stroke Junkers flight engines did!« Arthur softly stroked Dorothy’s shoulder because she looked sad listening to the name »Paddy«. Then he went on, »They had openings for inlet and outlet not on top, but in the lower cylinders where they crossed the piston ways.« Gordon could not believe this: »You won’t tell me that a legacy of the twenties side-valve-T-head makes this engine from the thirties strong, do you?« – »Why not? Together with an Elsbett vortex chamber inside the hemispheres and a turbo, this is a strong engine, and there is something else: here we have two identical engines having different camshafts. This difference means the difference between four-stroke and two-stroke without loss of lubrication.« Denise meddled: »Valves on a two-stroke ... what the heck about »Schnürrle Reverse Irrigation« and piston-windows if everything can be so easy?« Gordon remembered: »There always had been simply constructed motorcycle engines that had only a piston-nose at the tips and no complicated flows ... high consumption but very fast!« Arthur was glad to be understood: »That’s it: The valves are the nose and the consumption is not high!« He took the valve cover from a working bench, and before he mounted it, Gordon shook his head: »Did you synchronize the crankshafts by spur gears or a King shaft, at the front? I cannot look into this small space to the cockpit!« - »Look at the gearbox on the other side! The bell housing covers everything about synchronization: a spur gear at the end of each crankshaft connected to another pair coming from the gearbox, one behind the flywheel on the same shaft, and their bearings in the bell housing. Closing the bell house means completing the primary transmission. But removing the bell housing, for instance, to change the clutch, means removing the synchronization in one action; all other adapters, including the gearbox and the differential, are standard!« - »Incredible! How can you do this?« – »With these people at your side, it works ... you can believe me. I was always interested in old technical things that were special but not popular. Every so often, I ask myself why these things have not been further developed. The technical history has many of these phenomena; when I have an idea about those interesting legacies, I tell my folks, and they call me crazy, that’s all ... But sometimes, they come back to me and try it. And by the way, they started an evolution for classic cars with classic techniques, only to surprise those who cannot imagine something else but high-tech!« Dorothy made up her mind: »For me, it’s a boxer engine!« ... - »That’s logical ... but they used this word for an engine that demonstrates something less logical!« Denise meddled with Gordon’s remark: »And why could Ferrari call their 180-degree V-engine »Berlinetta Boxer«?« – »Because you cannot write a »V« with that angle of 180 degrees ... and people who build engines with twelve cylinders can call them as they like and without going to hell for using wrong technical terms!«#

The vehicles had been pushed out of the hall, Arthur and Gordon taking one each. That was possible: the cars were very lightweight, even together with two small and slim ladies (one small and one smaller) behind the steering wheels. At once, a crowd of professionals appeared with their instruments and clipboards. Bill looked at the flat contraptions behind the cockpits and held his thumb high to Arthur standing in front of the bolides. The image remembered a Western scene showing a duel between a lonely rider and two challengers, sitting behind windscreens this time. The lonely rider did not pull a trigger ... he only shouted, »Ladies, start your engines!«

The ladies knew how to handle any kind of starting an engine, even a classic engine ... This canon of the two tired-sounding classic starters was because of an enormous compression at T.D ... Two explosions, followed by the orchestra duet for jackhammer and circular saw, finished this torturous struggle. Denise was aware she was sitting in the two-stroke-powered Chevron. She was used to a similar hoarse sawing sound at the homeland circuits where her name was Sarah Rubenstein. In Europe, she had a license for »Sandy Rockforth« ... Last year at Thruxton, she was second in her displacement class as a guest driver for a GT championship challenge. She had not gotten a high-level car; she should have only gotten experience and not received too much attention ... They even had asked her to color her hair and wear sunglasses! Today, she began to understand ... or to worry again!

The instruments of her dashboard and the motor testing displays of the checking crew were matching, and the rear bonnets were fixed ... The first was Dorothy, who moved her jackhammer, followed by a circular saw. A crowd of private photographers appeared, but nobody from the Watchpoint ... They had not been informed, and Arthur was glad. He loved spontaneous actions and shouted, »This is to call a maiden voyage, isn’t it?« Bill turned around: »I’m sure you know which maiden you mean!« Gordon’s question, »What are they doing now?« was answered by Arthur: »Wait and let me listen! ... Come on, folks, they did it; it goes to the circuit!« In less than two minutes, nothing stood at its former place; only the big entrance door of the hall stood there ... wide open! ... The convoy stretched through the village like a snake and passed by John, standing next to Angus. After the last car had passed, there was nobody. Export-Becky had taken the shotgun in Bill’s Jaguar and looked back at John: »Have you been informed?« John smiled and answered, »Whoever knows, what do you mean, Angus?« Bill was sure: »Even Arthur knew this!« and Becky resumed: »You’re crazy ... All of you! We leave everything behind to watch two little green monsters busting their sick Arthur engines!« Bill got angry: »Did you already watch one of them standing aside the road with a white flag? So, keep your mouth shut, please, Cockney!«#

Most cars had turned right to the place being used as parc fermé during races; only the stay-at-home second Service-Reliant and Bill’s Jaguar followed the two runaways, and Angus opened one of the old gates, then ascended the stairs to the tower. The flat race cars rushed through the box and lined up on the pit lane. The presumed Denise left her vehicle to the nursing mechanics and gave Dorothy the requested »High-Five« ... she joined in so as not to spoil their game, being convinced that it was a game ... But the little green devil had been fun indeed! John pointed to the parc fermé: »You will find something to dress in there!«, and the ladies vanished in an Orchid van, not to be back in less than half an hour. This was to expect but not to understand for John: what else can a racing suit do but fit? John was right about the time but not about the girls: »Why didn’t you change clothes, Dorothy? I’m sure you’re a sexy-looking racer!« – »What are you talking about ... I don't get out on the track to embarrass myself in front of a professional!« John did not smile but laughed: »Arthur just said the same!« Gordon had not changed clothes either, but drove the two-stroke Chevron around the circuit. He knew he was no racer and did not even try it. After leaving the car again, he shook his head, looking pensive, and said, »Wow!«

»Denise« couldn’t prevent Bill from preparing her first start in the four-stroke: »Everything has to fit perfectly ... your father scolded me the same as you do ... I always prepared his starts!« – »... At last, it didn’t help anyway! Have you been friends?« – »Yes, I think I can say this ... I have been a racer myself ... Motorcycle ... and I once won here on a Triumph ... by the way, have you ever been on this track before?« – »Y ... No!« – »Then excuse me for giving you some advice: be careful first with the fast bends ... this circuit is made from bends, even the fastest straight is a tricky bend!«

Now, she was alone and felt safe again. The Hewland gearbox was from the seventies and had no synchronization. Of course not: the power always had to be transmitted directly! She did not know if Denise was used to that; Sarah was! And this little space between the control components and the raging beast behind her back was the only place where she could be Sarah... She had to be if she wanted to survive! The conditions seemed to be the same as last time, even the weather. The 1800 cc in her neck reacted to every push on the throttle with uproar, or noticeable rumbling at lowering, as if a tiger was jumping onto the bars of its cage behind her and catching her up at braking from high speed. Reaching the chicane before Start and Finish at the end of her out lap, she knew what to do: the jackhammer was joined by the sound of a wheel suspension galloping over the curbs and probably doing everything possible to throw the rider off. The chicane’s exit was still filled with thunder and lightning when the monster had already passed the Orchid-speed trap at the beginning of the finishing straight, which was a long right bend. Sally had begun a conversation with this rough fellow, and she liked it: this tiger was a big and strong pussycat playing with her in a friendly way, and she accepted the offer by dragging it from outside to inside, dancing on the throttle and brake, or doing both together by heel and tip while pushing the clutch in quick intervals with the other foot, and her left hand hurrying from shifter to steering and back, she made her playmate have free speeding drifts out from the vertex, only controlled with light moving of the volant but without losing any space or time. Yes, the steering and the gearbox needed all her power and some sure instinct ... above all: the brakes! But altogether every part of this community called »Racing Car« was working hand in hand. And she was the one having to manage this. Sally was convinced: this means psychology! Her first flying lap was over, and there was waving from the pit lane. Did so many people come to test a new spy driving on a circuit? She did not need a lap display to notice her four-wheeled team harmonizing her line: they had been even faster this time. Her next flying lap was finished with a happy Arthur waving a checkered flag. From entering the pit lane, Sarah had to be Denise again. If this were not a game and this strange woman, looking the same as her, really did exist, and the circumstances were just as described in this German newspaper, ... had Sarah Rubenstein only been sent to Europe to pretend a happy end for these folks, or was it her task to research their common roots? She could not believe this ... but if? Arthur opened her car: »You have been more than two seconds faster than Rob van Leuven in his Quattro!« ... Two seconds faster than a Quattro was good, but who was Rob van Leuven? ... This politician from the newspaper in the morning? ... Denise did not ask this. But Gordon had a question: »Would you like to try the other car too?« She would ... and if only: to escape this mystery scene! Again, she had to tolerate Bill’s caring but felt that it was nothing but caring; this man behaved funny but honest way.

The two-stroke made her feel comfortable from its start. Alone, the hoarse sawing sound reminded this typical six-cylinder, and speeding out of any corner was even more powerful than with the other car. The engine revved lower but felt much higher. It ignited at every revolution with 60 to 70 percent of the work. That was 120 to 140 percent compared to the four-stroke and had even more braking compression. That was opposite to any two-stroke of the past. Those gearboxes were fun: before downshifting, the straight-toothed shafts needed to have a matching turning speed together with the engine, and the pilot’s short and fast stepping of the throttle at idle gear was similar to pulling the trigger of a gun, accompanied by a barking exhaust. This engine did not bark ... it screamed! From Woodham Hill to Thruxton Club, there were three theatrical screams before this gone-wild pussycat stayed in second gear to spit over the curbs for the next sprint.

She had to correct her thoughts about managing the components of these bolides: this wasn’t only psychology ... It was rhythm too! It was her rhythm matching the power of these cars. And the times of these cars were the times of rock and roll! Her teachers at home were from this time, too. She had known them since she had started college at the age of fifteen. Perhaps they were a little old to rock and roll now, but not too old to teach it on racetracks. Uncle Bob, Uncle Dan, and Uncle Carroll ... They had rocked around the world with those technical dinosaurs: fast but difficult to drive. Sally remembered a joke with Uncle Carroll: he had asked her not to shout »Uncle Carroll!« from far away. Her »Aunty Carroll!« from far away then made the pit lane of Riverside even more into laughter ... The idea was from Uncle Dan, of course, and when this speedway was closed at the end of that year, »Aunty Carroll« joked back, telling everyone, the end of Riverside had been her fault!

Finishing the second flying lap, she did not get a checkered flag ... but there were so many folks now, and someone threw a beret into the air! She had read about Colin Chapman, who used to throw his cap under the wheels of his drivers when they successfully crossed the finishing line ... She could not imagine what the destination was for Arthur in this case, but hers was to come into the pits next.

She had to drive very slowly and carefully because of the two little children sitting on the car’s front part and their parents holding their little hands and walking at each side of the front wheels. What would they have done if there had been a front engine under the hood? ... She got her answer from four tiny legs suddenly dangling from the car’s top over the windscreen into her view. The crowd closed and stopped her way through, and soon she was not sitting in her cockpit but on the hands and shoulders of unknown people ... like the winner of a 24-hour race. Arthur proudly held a pit board in her view:»-0,3!« ... Not even half of a second? ... The four-stroke probably had its qualities too, perhaps at top speed! »Denise« looked a little disappointed ... Dorothy and John were the first to congratulate: »You have the new best time: »Orchid against Rob«!« - »?« ... Someone with a press passport came ... and passed her, complaining, »They never would have dared to handle Deborah Hastings this way!« While Arthur and the crew closed the entrance of the finishing straight by leading the track through the pit lane, some young folks of New Popplebush stood in line, each armed with a helmet. They were waiting to drive the same bolides she, whether a race driver or not, had been asked to drive carefully. She asked Bill, »Why did you handle me like a child and now let those children play without even looking after them?« Bill got sheepish: »Because there is a difference between fun and passion! I’m sorry if I offended you, Madam ... Those youngsters only want to play ... Nevertheless, they can shift down gearboxes with intermediate gas ... without using the brakes at the same time, of course. And they got educated in everything. We get in trouble when noticing someone like you or your father on the track! You are used to living at the limit, and I try to be responsible in every detail ... I lost a friend and do not want to witness the same happening to his daughter. I wished to explain it better ... I have this nightmare again and again, and I was against your stint today, too!« This had not been too logical ... perhaps for Denise, but not for Sally’s thinking: »Can someone play as crazy as this?« And watching her leave, Bill recalled: »By the way, have you ever been on this track before?« – »Y ... No!«

Parc fermé was not filled with only smaller cars ... There was a bus too, having brought the rest of the village people, and a little van with snacks. A flock of children occupied the pulpit of the track control, and their young lady teacher joked with Angus ... in her nice French dialect. Dorothy got a worried face: »Who is looking after the village and my pub?« John smiled and took his arm around her: »Cat Woman does!« – »... Oh, yes ... and who is that nasty girl crawling out of this little green monster?« ... Tiffy and Eric had taken off their helmets and laughed. They did not expect the trouble coming from behind and looking like Doctor Willow: »Who is looking after the village?« – »Eh ... why? Everybody to look after is here!«#

Sally had taken every piece of information she could get ... from Tiffy in the kitchen this morning, from Dorothy in the dressing van by changing clothes for nearly half an hour for that ... Now she was glad to use her knowledge: »Mrs. Alington! How are you, Madam?« The old lady was happy: »Sophie! The little Sophie ... Child, don’t drive those terrible cars; they are dangerous! Your dad did this, and your mom piloted small planes ... and both of them had to pay with their lives!« ... This was unbelievable! This damned village was going to make Sally crazy: Sophie ... all the time Sophie! Either this nice old lady was no old woman, or she told the truth. What was the truth?

»It’s reality, Arthur ... Your sweet Witch had been as fast as no one else before on an Orchid, but your B8 is not a classic car because of the engine having not even an old engine block!«- »But it’s an old, rare concept of an engine!« – »Yes, I know: you bought an engine from Golle in Dresden and built a modified replica with your ideas ... that’s great! ... And you used the Elsbett vortex chamber for the cylinder heads. But your classic car is powered by a brand-new engine, whether the idea is old or not! Sorry, Rob van Leuven is still in front! ... She looks like Thelma, doesn’t she?«

Arthur was angry ... not that Angus wasn’t right; of course, he was ... But why did he know so many things about engines and engineers?! Gordon tried to mediate: »Nevertheless, you have a great engine ... you should speak with the Golle Company!« – »No chance! They constructed their engine for a different reason ... it works even without motor oil! And I won’t offer an engine for sale in this unclear patent law situation. I’d rather not risk being destroyed by German industry, as happened to Elsbett! He had constructed a multi-fuel engine and presented it. Before they declared not to be interested, they investigated every technical detail and stole his ideas. Even the label »TDI« was originally from Elsbett. About two hundred years ago, something similar had happened to James Watt, whose inventions were robbed by Prussian spies. But in contrast to Watt, Elsbett finally lost his fight and existence, despite his engine having won in Austria a competition for diesel engines as the most economical and durable development. This story was never published in Germany and was concealed by the ADAC, the co-organizer. After this, no other European competition accepted Elsbett’s participation, and the attempt to manufacture the engine himself was destroyed by the »Treuhand«, which suddenly blocked the loans for his partner company. Now his patented inventions belong to an Asian bank and remain protected. Like him, since the fifties, it had happened to some companies that had something that the gangsters did not have but wanted to have as freely as possible. Remember the German definition for BMW in 1961: »Borgward Macht Weiter« ... A cartel had ruined a healthy car company by spreading rumors, and the former Isabella engine became the foundation of the new BMW-1500. When those German cars are not good or not fast enough, their lawyers are! And if you have a more profound look inside their methods, you find all the legacies of Hitler’s KDF-Volkswagen, Quandt-Goebbels-BMW, or Flick-Mercedes!« Gordon shrugged his shoulders: »Let them build their Schickelgruber cars or their Goebbels cars in Germany ... this here is the U.K.!« – »And since 1994 we have this Mafia in the U.K.! An island reigned by a nation of international pushers, while British engineers had to leave but are welcome everywhere else.«#

Arthur and John drove the two cars back home, and Bill organized the retreat of everything else. Mrs. Alington and Gordon talked about an old photograph. Dorothy drove a cleaning machine and instructed some folks standing around to take a broom and sweep out the corners. Everyday life had arrived back.#

Arthur had arrived back at his house and looked through the window in his living room. It was early in the evening, and the view to the west side was beautiful too. He listened pensively to Mary Hopkin’s assertion that a sparrow could fly as high as any other bird (song: The Sparrow, 1969, Gallagher-Lyle), ... as there was a knocking. This did not come from the stereo, and he got lightly confused, looking to the door in the middle of the room and framed by the room-filling bookshelf. This door was flat against the wall, and behind it, there was a short space as thick as the wall itself and another door, belonging to the neighbor's house. Surely Arthur knew this door, but he had not taken any notice of it for years. He did not know what to do if it was locked ... It wasn’t! And in this corridor stood Denise, between her open door and Arthur’s. She had taken a shower and was drying her hair with a towel. She did it fast, as if she had to finish this work before saying something important: »This was a fine thing for you: having accidentally prepared some toys and having accidentally found a child who played with them! How crazy do you think I am ... or worse: how stupid?« Back to reality, she only pushed her damp hair back behind her shoulders and was ready to go: »Dorothy has called for us, Uncle Arthur!«

Leaving the house, she remembered the fatal mistake she had made, passing by this place yesterday. She was lucky with Arthur speaking first now: »You needn’t call me »Uncle«!« She stopped at the same place as he did yesterday ... and she did not pretend to be a statue but only a little surprised: »But you are my godfather, Uncle Arthur!« Arthur was a statue again, but not so uptight: »Yes ... I forgot ... sorry, my girl! I never had the chance to be your godfather ... We’ll make up for it all, do we?« The Godchild took his arm, just as yesterday: »Do you speak German too?« – »Eh ... of course! That’s my mother language, just like yours and your mother’s ... Did your grandmother not explain it, ... or didn’t she say anything at all?« – »Eh, not much ... I think she has some secrets!« ... »I can imagine this: she did not tell you that I had contacted her after this article in the newspaper, did she? This was a big surprise ... I never knew that Thelma came from Adenau; I thought it was Cologne because of her dialect ... Her English was a kind of modified »Kölsch«. Your English is perfect, even a little American ... that’s typical!« – »Typical?« – »Yes, because of all the GIs and their families who had their airbases on the former French occupations since the fifties!« – »Oh yes, of course, that might be the reason! ... By the way, talking about slangs: What does »Hätzebrenner« mean in English? ... Oh, sorry: I meant: »Hasenfuß«, I only fell into my dialect!« – »I think it’s: »coward« ... do you mean someone special?« – »What? ... Oh, no! I’m reading a German book and I asked myself what »Hasenfuß« means in English ... But: Is an anxious hare automatically a coward?« – »You mean a typical term like »chicken, scaredy-cat, or wimp«? Which book do you read in German?« ... She would have liked to mention her envelope and slap his face for every keyword on this fucking list, but answered: »Pippi Langstrumpf!« (and meant: »Pooh!«). He reacted: »Oh, of course: everyone who tries to get her is a wimp at the end! (... and thought: »So, you want me to believe that you don’t know anything!«).

The conversation seemed to work, and she took another risk: »What has happened, Uncle ... I mean, what happened here in this village? Perhaps you can tell me something ... Grandmother won’t say!« She was walking on thin ice again, but he reacted insightfully this time: »You have a right to know what happened to your mother; I mean ... that's what had happened to both of you! Albert, Andrew, and I were only interested in motorsport; at first, I only came to the island on holidays, or better, at any time if it was possible for me. After finishing my military service in Germany, I came to stay ... Meanwhile, your mother had come out of the blue to take the pub, and she founded a kind of clubhouse ... with a growing club. She did not have the opportunity to run a pub every day, but it was never empty when she was there. In the upper rooms, she lived and worked ... Later, they talked about »secret research«. She even had a little airplane standing on the old RAF. Then she married Andrew and got pregnant with you ... You were such a lovely girl! Before your birth, Andrew was killed in a racing accident, and I had an accident too, and I lay some weeks in a coma. Things had changed in every way, and Thelma sometimes left the village for weeks ... you were born somewhere else, too.« – »And my name was Sophie?« If he had looked up, he would have noticed her biting her lips, but the destination of his pensive face was directed to the ground: »Yes ... our little Sophie ... One day, Thelma came and presented you; we had a little celebration in the church, and that was it. Albert, the owner of nearly everything here, adopted me and went back to Scotland; your mother left us with her plane and never came back. Some say, »Together with you«, and some say, »Alone«.« – »Who said, »Together with me«?« - »... I heard it after reading the story about your victory on the Nordschleife ... It was more: I paid someone to research your home village.« - »A detective?« - »... He is a journalist ... and maybe he is good at researching but not able to combine any circumstances ... Debbie said that he was the best man for this.« - »What did he find out?« - »A drunken shepherd wants to have seen her together with you on her arm stepping into a small plane in the middle of a meadow at Qiddelbach« Something worked in Sally’s head, and by saying, »Okay, you mean that rumor ... Of course, I heard about it (but thinking, »I don’t believe anything, you nasty bastard!«) she joined the game again: »That did not interest me; I remember my growing up at Grandma’s; that should do!« - »Certainly! You had been just a little older than a year!« - »But what else had happened?« - »In England, Thelma Moore was officially missed after leaving the Jurassic Coast. I’m sure that Thelma was a good pilot, which might have landed and started on a meadow, but this man was drunk! ... and you did not get missed, as we see. There were rumors about a shooting between spies of the KGB and CIA, too, the day she left the RAF. I don’t know if that’s true; I cannot remember this time well because of my accident; it’s like an invalid memory ... People call me crazy behind my back, and I don’t know if they did before ... Nevertheless, Dorothy looks after me for the same reason, I think.« – »Is she your official guardian?« Arthur laughed: »Not yet, but sometimes she acts like that!« – »And ... do you know what kind of biological research my mother should have done?« – »Eh ... no, I think no one knows this! ... all of these rumors are rubbish!« – »What rumors?!« – »... Stupid rumors, bloody stupid rumors! ... Nothing serious, believe me!« – »Uncle Arthur: Please!!« ... - »Something about cell cloning. Some even talked about »Human Parthenogenesis« ... I said, Rubbish, didn’t I?« Arthur had not dared to look into her face; if he had, he would have seen a little frightened girl, biting her lips ... And this time it was not only fear ...

The Man from the Land of Smiles (or somewhere next to it)

It was a shock! ... Okay, this story was nothing but any other story that was to be expected if this was a game ... A fucking game with herself being the loser from the start. Surely they called this a »stress test«, and it was difficult to stand indeed. And it motivated her to investigate everything about Denise Schaffrath as fast as possible ... Sophie Moore had had her days ... A fucking game called »Excalibur«! ... and should have been: »Charlotte«! This was the German name of the missed American spy, and this was the name of her boss, too, pretending to be her friend but might be a monster. And her loving parents joined in this farce? If this was the way to become a spy, this was a cruel job!

She walked aside with »Uncle Arthur« to the pub without knowing where to go. She noticed his hand softly taking her arm, but without feeling the earth under her feet; she felt his eyes on her face without looking at them, and she listened without caring about Dorothy’s calling, »Hurry up, you two, Suwanay San has arrived!« She followed like a zombie: entering the house, standing in front of an Asiatic-looking man, copying Arthur’s making a bow, and babbling away: »Suwanay San, Konnichiwa!«

Tsugio Suwanay was a small, slim widower, nearly 70 years old. He was glad to be in New Popplebush again; this was his fairyland, where he could forget a stupid business world for some days and have some fun with some friends. He reacted to the bows of Denise and Arthur by bowing even deeper, to his greatest pleasure, and he took his opposites into his arms, one after the other. Dorothy had always told her folks to bow deeper to show respect to someone coming from Japan, especially »His Highness«! But this funny man loved to boycott her courtesy rituals the same as he loved to boycott any unwritten rules for stock market speculations, ... and he was always happy laughing. And now, after this ceremony, the little Japanese emperor took the management of the evening: »Dorrothea, would you be so frrendly to give me a piece of bread? Everry time I’m getting hungrry, I forrget that an Asian cannot prronounce an »Rr«!« ... And just before dinner, which had nothing to do with a piece of bread or even sushi, he held his awaited speech ... in Japanese, of course. And of course, he was asked for a translation. So, he took a deep theatrical breath before he answered, »Ladies and Gentlemen: This speech was only forr King Arrthurr and for that reason I will trranslate it into German: Fischers Fritz frisst frische Fische!« Of course, something like this had been expected, and of course, this was successful even this time. During the dinner, he praised »Dolothy’s wondelful Blitish meal« and: »I cannot undelstand people who like Sushi: Flozen fish and thawed in the lefligelatol!« ... And of course, His Highness had again brought with him something for the Orchid Manufactory. He was the main importer of some special British cars on the Japanese market and normally only had business connections to the official factories ... up to the day when he had come for a visit to »this neat kingdom having this cute queen«. And from this day, he used to bring the orders for parts and spares, or sometimes complete cars, himself to New Popplebush after having been to the town of Caterham first. And so, he presented a file to Arthur, winking with one eye because he watched the Queen’s nosy face coming closer to Arthur’s. Arthur winked back, handed the file out to her, and she began to leaf through it hastily. With her reaching the last pages, Suwanay began to count down: »Three, two one ...« – »Fifteen complete finished Seventeen-O with the Orchid sign on the bonnet and dashboard! Thank you, Emperor!« She fell around his neck, and after enjoying this, the emperor shouted: »I teach you something, folks: if you want such pleasure too, you will have to do something for it!«#

It was getting late in the evening of a long day, and the emperor came out of the kitchen after finishing the dishes together with his best friends. They sat at one of the bigger tables for a last drink, and Gordon could not refuse to talk about »those unbelievable super-engines, working without any logic!« Bill’s argument, »The only logical solution is the turbo; in every other case you are right!« did not change Gordon’s euphoria: »We should demonstrate these cars on a long-distance race; we have a Ring Master on our side now!« – »Yes!« was Denise’s reaction. It came quickly but without any emotion; she only reacted because of her guess that this answer had been expected from her. - »No and never!«, Arthur got alarmed: »The time of Orchid Racing Team is over, and there will not be a new one. I won’t experience this again!« Dorothy stroked his arm to calm him down, and John did not smile. Becky shouted, »Don’t think I'll go into production if capacity is running out because of a new racing team. I’ll do my export papers!« ... Arthur had not expected any help from this side, to have an extra reason, but this was not meant anyway. »Denise« watched this scene without any belief, and she played the role she suspected she had to play ... or to make them react in a self-treacherous way, or better: to make them confess something ...: »Gordon is right: I drive for the Veedol Cup anyway! ... and I ask you for a car, Uncle Arthur, nothing else!« Suwanay was truly interested: »Veedol-Cup! ... Nülbulgling ... I know that!« ... Three depressed faces were sitting at the table now. One was Arthur’s and the others were Bill’s and Takuma’s faces, Suwanay’s chauffeur.#

Arthur could not sleep. He turned from one side of his bed to the other: everybody was against him ... Gordon, Suwanay, Denise ... Maybe Dorothy was on his side this time, but she had not said anything ... and he was used to her being against him; how should he ever know the difference? The worst was that girl; he could understand her: this was passion, and it had been a passion for her father too. Perhaps it would have been passion even for himself ... if he had ever been successful. He had lost Jock and Andrew, and he had lost Thelma, his secret love ... All of them had left him something special: they had left him alone! Now there was her little daughter. Should he have met this girl, only to be responsible for losing her, too? This fucking day! It had begun with a joke around two firecrackers, and now the matter had gradually gotten out of hand. He started the stereo again, and Mary Hopkin compared her loneliness with the sad sound of a saxophone (Mary Hopkin: The Sparrow) ... Arthur stepped out to have a cigarette in the fresh air and asked himself, »What had she come for? What is she doing?« A well-known voice joined his fantasy: »*She’s whittling on a piece of wood. I got a feeling when she stops whittling, something’s gonna happen (*Once upon a time in the West, Sergio Leone, 1968)!« – »Shut up!« ... Had he shouted this? He turned carefully. Looking back, he recognized Dorothy and John watching from their front door. They wore pajamas ... no, it was one pajama: Dorothy had the upper part, and it fit like a very short miniskirt but was too large in every other case: »Everything okay, Arthur?« – »Oh, yes ... I only have a cigarette!« – »Good night, Arthur!« – »Eh ... good night to you both!« Before John closed the door, he said, »Good night, Cheyenne!«#

The next morning, there was a different topic: the voyagers had arrived back from Italy and reported to Dorothy. They had a lot of news, and the short version of their story was: Moretti had gotten his show, Taffy had gotten his celebration because of bringing home an Italian goddess, and Debbie’s triumphal prey wasn’t only her exclusive story for Old Timer’s News but her new lover ... Bob was welcomed to the club in the usual way. After this, Debbie took the Japanese Emperor and abducted him: »This story will make those from Caterham jealous!« ... and, to sum it up: »You’re getting back your newspaper, folks! Come on, Bob, we have to visit Mrs. Alington and take some pictures of our top model together with the Tennó!«#

Sally had not been informed in any way if her wish to get a car for a start in the Eifel would be fulfilled; even Debbie had nothing but questions for her. Anyway, behind the scenes there was some movement to conjecture, and she was sure to have startled the complete acting group with her threat to go to Nürburgring ... But there seemed something wrong: Why had they welcomed her as a racer at all and let her drive these firecrackers, if not for something like this? ... And the idea of starting on the Nordschleife did not come from herself! She had told Debbie that she was on her way back from San Francisco after having had some test drives at Laguna Seca. That was her tale coming from the information paper in the envelope ... Or better, she interpreted it this way. Could that even match together? ... She had started her flight as Sarah Rubenstein and had turned into Denise Schaffrath after landing. Perhaps at the same time, there was a Denise Schaffrath in the USA playing Sarah Rubenstein, having some test drives at Laguna Seca? If she had to double a special agent looking the same as her, why was this so dangerously complicated? Again, Arthur was talking in her head: »... stupid rumors!«, ... »Human Parthenogenesis!«

At »Clean-Up the Pub« day, Eric had told her that Arthur normally was shy with women and only talked to them if he could not prevent it. In her case, this would be different; Tiffy was sure that he loved her like a daughter and that she should not worry. But Dorothy meant she never had a problem with his shyness ... She only had to argue with him. John wouldn’t have advised that because anyone else doing this would be left standing without a word by Arthur... They had told all this without her asking, and this made her feel safe in a strange way. In the afternoon, she had a walk with Suwanay San to the little river, and she had not begun the conversation this time, either ... it was the old man: »Why did you fly to England? It takes some time to get home after all this, doesn’t it?« He smiled differently from usual. What kind of question was this? What did »It takes some time to get home« mean in this case ... had she met a contact person? She had to be careful and took the most diplomatic option of answering according to the state of her knowledge: »Indeed, Sir! It would have been easier to take a direct flight back to the continent. But I must confess that I got curious ... Sometimes you have to watch something bigger to get a view of what’s wrong in your little world!« ... This was not even a lie ... - »So, you want to correct some mistakes?« – »I ... I first have to investigate them ... It’s only a feeling of something going wrong in my life!« ... Had she been too honest this time? ... The old man smiled with an understanding look: »I thought this! ... It’s because of your eyes! The searching eyes of a young woman ... That’s only a little different from the asking eyes of an older fellow ... they are looking less tired!« – »What do you mean?« – »Sometimes we search for something new and find something we have lost! ... And sometimes it works the other way around. Different destinations may lie next to one another ... sometimes!« They reached the village again, and to her surprise, the conversation was over. Suwanay bowed deeply and prevented her from doing the same with his hand on her shoulder: »Please, not! This was meant only for you, Madam!« ... She was sure: this was a piece of information indeed, ... but no contact in the main thing. It was a fucking test again!#

They sat together on a workbench: »You’re looking tired, Arthur!« - »We all get tired sometime, Bill! ... But not her!« ... - »This reminds me of a scene from »Once upon a time in the West« ... the last conversation between Jill and Cheyenne!« - »You translate the German synchronization; the English text is different!« Bill laughed, »You are right, I watched both versions of this movie, and they are interesting, each! Let’s hope there is a difference too between our two heroes!« Arthur took a deep drag from his rolled cigarette: »At least she looks better than Charles Bronson ... But I pray that she gets inspired by a dream ... and not by a nightmare as »Harmonica« did ... a nightmare that never ended!«#

Soon, that day was over, too. The weekend was approaching inevitably. Arthur had finally put together a team for Denise and promised her both cars; on the condition that the registration for the race was not made in his name or the name of the Orchid Classics, he had even let himself be persuaded to come to the Nürburgring ... or in his own words, »The Eiger-North-Face of motorsport«. Sally was still hoping that everything would be canceled and all the dizziness confessed, even if shortly before departure. Otherwise, she could certainly find out in the Eifel that Denise Schaffrath did not exist. She was even prepared to drive over the Nordschleife for that. So far, this had only been done virtually, but the physical conditions of the other racetracks on which she had started later had been conveyed quite realistically by the previous simulation sessions. This could certainly be helpful here as well, so as not to embarrass herself on the bones. If these people wanted to have a Denise Schaffrath on the »Ring«, then they should get it, and then at the end of that day, she would have driven on this track even if she hadn't existed before.#

They met Friday morning, just before sunrise. On the square in front of the factory hall stood a Reliant Scimitar and a spacious luxury sedan, both connected to a tandem trailer each with a green B8 lashed on it. The chauffeur of the luxury car looked rather disgruntled, while his Japanese boss radiated the purest thirst for adventure. Arthur and Bill joined Taffy in the Scimitar, and Gordon and Denise sat down with Suwanay San. Arthur had advised that the young people should drive together; they would be nearly the same age after all, which was probably also true for Suwanay San. Of course, Taffy would have been one of them, but he didn't let anyone else on his factory station wagon. In Arthur's opinion, there was at least one person in each car who would find the way to Eifel blindfolded, which »Denise« only referred to herself in the second moment. John and Dorothy stood in line with some people from the village. Dorothy was again anxious, and Debbie hugged her before she joined Bob in the small car with the inscription »New Popplebush Watchpoint« and followed the bandage.#

»What's in the wooden boxes that are lashed to the trailers in front of the cars? The cars stand quite far back ...« Arthur’s question was about weight distribution. »Don't worry, the cars are relatively light, and the boxes are quite heavy. In one, we have a sixteen-hundred Cossie and in the other, a gearbox, together with lifting and mounting tools, if they don't let us on the slopes with your Golle copies.« Taffy's explanation did not make Arthur more relaxed; the problem was only shifted. Perhaps he would even prefer the cars not to get approved for a race.#

Qualifying

»I can't have your vehicles registered for a race!« In the registration barracks, there was strong traffic this early afternoon. Sally and Gordon had filled out the forms and received their review result from the clerk. - »Because of the engines?« – »No, the Technical Verification does the engines or any other homologation, but I can't register two cars if only one driver is part of the team. And besides, you need to show your racing license, Mrs. ... uh ... Schaffrath!« – »Well, if that's the case, then we can leave again!« Sally had her expected experience: she was unknown here; incidentally, it occurred to her that she had no license. Sandy Rockforth had one, an international ... but what about Denise Schaffrath? She probably didn't exist at all.

»Sachmaah, Do häss wohlns nit mä aal Tassen im Schrank, un dä Naahm musste vonne Pappe abläsen? ... Do Paiass! (Don’t you really know Miss Schaffrath ... Sir?) Hey Lück! Do stonn dat Ringfloh voor dä Töör, solle mers rinlasse? (Ladies and gentlemen: Ring Master Denise Schaffrath!)« The Voice of Pitter thundered over her head and filled the room. A loud discussion started: »Pitter, ich verbitte mir diese Anzüglichkeiten (I won’t let you call me a clown!)« – »Paasop datt isch mer nix verbitte, denn häss jaar kinn Anzoch mäh (You shouldn’t act like a clown, then)! Donn schriefs dä Töns un misch dazoo und maht, datt mer ins vorran kütt (we join her team, and that’s it)!«

Sally had learned this dialect ... and she slowly became aware why! ... No, this was said too much: it was only a guess, and even this did not help her presently because she got thrown out of the barrack together with Gordon, Pitter, and Töns, but holding the necessary and subscribed documents in their hands, laughing. Pitter grabbed her shoulder: »By the way, what did they teach you in Ami-land ... Standard German? I always thought they speak English!« Sally had to react quickly, knowing where she had made her mistake but not what at all was about Pitter and Töns: »Verzell mer kinne Driss, suns hol isch de Ömm, dasseret kriss!« The two were satisfied: »Dä Ääd hats weeder!« – »Datt waar getz aber knapp, woll! Fast hättich gedacht, dich hättense ausgetauscht ... Nä wa! ... der Arthur! ... Wie lange is datt getz her ... tausend Jahre?« They had reached Sally’s folks, and Arthur began to remember: Pitter had been a kind of local hero, having done the same every race weekend: driving at the Nordschleife, he and his friend Töns, who lived in Dortmund. They had different dialects, the same great dream, but always small cars ... like others here, coming from everywhere, many of them with their families, some in the second generation. Arthur’s memories about this time were weak, but he tried to hide this, and he preferred listening to their talking, not recognizing Sally having the same strategy. Pitter and Töns had different teams now, but they did not drive themselves often because both were nearly sixty, and some of their young folks had stepped in their footsteps or had married a driver coming from one of those typical Ring Families. Accidentally, the two fellows had a team with »Denise« now, too, and Arthur guessed that they indeed wanted to play with these interesting toys waiting on the trailers. He introduced, »This is Suwanay San, Takuma Yamamoto, Gordon Marsh ... the others have vanished to pester your competition. Suwanay bowed and said, »Gentlemen, Ich wünsche Ihnen Geschwindigkeit und immel eine Handbleit Split im Tank!« The two thanked him, and after this, Töns bowed to Pitter, saying, »Ich wünsche dir auch eine Handvoll Splitt im Tank oder wenigstens Zucker!« ... Who laughed the loudest was Suwanay. Töns watched the tandems: »Two Chevrons from the seventies and a Rolls-Royce as a towing car ... but the Old timers met last week, didn’t they?« Gordon meddled: »We try some special engines!« – »And Suwanay is your sponsor?« Artur gave a statement: »This is not our business; we only came with her!«

The pit positions had been distributed, and the green Chevrons were placed together, next to the two Civics of Töns and his family, in one box. There was one car for his son and one for his son-in-law. Pitter in the next box only had his niece at the start with a Swift. Young women were less likely to be seen as pilots, but some were well-known indeed.

Denise drove her B8 with the two-stroke engine to the technical review, and Gordon stood there counting down, in his thoughts, while the rear bonnet was removed. The reaction of the officials was expected: »What the hell ... look at this, Bruno!« – »That’s a »Kollermotor« or so: ... Two-stroke legacy ... I’ve never seen this in reality before. Finally, it will blow up at the race. What do you want with this, Denise?« – »We want to test it!« – »Werner, what do you think: is that possible? ... We should ask some specialists!« – »Okay, but let her go on the track first and deal with that later ... We cannot simply cancel our Ring-Flea, can we?« – »Ha-ha, the Ring-Flea! If you see her, it’s too late; then she has already bitten!« ... It worked! Gordon left satisfied, but was called back: »A cylinder head with valves? Is it a four-stroke?« And to Pitter in the second Chevron: »You’re making fun of us, are you? You already registered a Swift ... and now this firecracker!«

Back at the pits, Taffy and Bill checked the cars, and the Ring-Flea chose »The two-stroke first!« Pitter was nosy: »What happened to your BMW-Threesome ... Out of duty?« – »No, I want to test these engines ... Arthur is my godfather!« - »And your points for the Cup? You are second in your class currently!« Her head was working: »I was not sure to return this weekend at all ... perhaps I can get a chance for a works team!« – »Oh, the secret journey to America ...« – »Just as you said, my dear: secret ... top secret!« – »But you make it exciting! I just wondered where your teammate and your folks are ...« – »They do not even know that I’m back because I was in England first!« Töns remarked: »Girl, get the wheel cross out of the trunk; the nerd is back!« A tall and slender young man approached her: »Hello again! ... How are you?« There was a whispering in the background: »This guy is funny!« ... - »He doesn’t give up!« Sally had no idea what to do now, and her new friends were kept in the background as long as her opposite showed civilized behavior. Arthur joined them: »What does he want from her? Does he want to flirt?« Pitter shook his head: »That would be less of a problem ... that bloke is crazy, and last time she wished him to hell!« Töns added: »And this time she speaks with him in standard German ... never heard this from her before!« Arthur was impressed: her mother could not hide her Rhineland roots, despite having studied in America, and this girl was not only speaking in American slang but switching between different German dialects. He pensively watched the two young people talking and asked himself what kind of problem they had. He got the answer from Töns without questioning: »They call him »Blueprint« because he follows you through the tricky bends and copies your style. On the straight, he passes and sprints away with his powerful car, but everything else is too difficult for him to drive a fast lap by himself. The others in his class don’t like him, and he has already gotten into some trouble with this behavior. However, that fellow has a strong team and a lot of money. He makes it with special software for computers. In this case, he writes simulations for racing games.« – »And what does he want from Denise?« – »His team found out that she is one of the fastest pilots between Fuchsröhre and Galgenkopf, even though she does not have one of the fastest cars herself. So, he wants her to overtake him just before Adenauer Forst and lead him through the difficult sections up to the long straight. On the other hand, he would take her in his slipstream to Fuchsröhre and later, from Döttinger Höhe to Antonius Buche. He means to be fast enough before and after these track parts. But the last time he came, she asked him in a stern way to play with his joystick somewhere else because the Nürburgring is no place for gaming!«

The young man with the »Proske« emblem on his overall seemed to behave politely. Sally stayed because of being curious: »What can a poor girl do for someone having the best equipment?« The face that belonged to the name »Volker Seidel« over the emblem smiled: »Now you are playing games ... It’s because of the simulation I sent you! I hope you had no problems with the cockpit kit!« – »Oh, I have not been home for some time ... and I didn’t know ...« – »But we discussed the simulation, didn’t we?... »Slipstream Of Destiny«, I hoped to convince you, if you check my idea for the right moments to overtake, on this simulation ...« Sally was happy: Slipstream of Destiny! Using this simulation, she had her first experience with the Nürburgring. And this man had created this software! He had to be her contact person ... So, why this comedy? But she had to wait; he was the one to inform her!

Seidel had a professional team; this was clear ... But Bill, Gordon, and Taffy also knew how to do their jobs, and Sally was soon ready to go on her first out-lap for an exploratory cruise. She followed the integrated Grand Prix Course up to »Hatzenbach-arch«. Hatzenbach and the following section, »Hocheichen«, were tricky sections with short straights, tight corners, and double bends, most of which involved curve changes. The young-timer’s advantage was a deep center of gravity caused by the flat engine. This way, Sally got more high-spirited but remembered every point where things might get difficult. That was no problem for her; she was as highly gifted as rally legend Walter Röhrl, who won the foggy Portugal Rally 1980 out of his memory ... with a gap of more than four minutes! ... The last tight left bend let her push down the hill to Quiddelbach. Taffy had mounted an old sequential six-speed Colotti gearbox from Rob Walker of the sixties and had remarked that the sixth gear might be only effective on the long straight and in the slipstream of a leading car; for a moment, she thought about trying it for this downhill passage, but the way was even for the fifth gear too short. So, the fourth made the chariot press deep into the coil springs before being dragged back up the mountain again in the direction of »Flugplatz«. She did not need to shift down for the right bend after »Quiddelbacher Höhe« and was already speeding left up around the next hill. The way down to »Kottenborn« was not made for the top gear either, and so, she had to stay in the fifth, up again to »Schwedenkreuz«. The track began to match her rhythm ... or was it the other way around? Anyway, there was a matching rhythm, and that’s the main thing! Losing the rhythm means driving on a strange track, even if it had been familiar before ... The best demonstration of a matching rhythm had been her pushing along Flugplatz without starting a flight. Flugplatz was not an airport ... It had been a glider airfield long ago ... And Schwedenkreuz was a stone memorial from the 30 Years' War at her right side between some trees. It had been built for the Major of Kelberg who had been killed and robbed here in 1638 by Swedish soldiers ... Now, this was no place to think about Swedish crosses, but to brake and to shift down ... powerfully but strategically, because of the road hump that dragged her to the right, but she had to remain left outside, aiming for the next right corner to reach the vertex of »Aremberg«. This was fun for her ... and for this little imp too, she guessed; with light sliding, they left Aremberg and passed underneath »Poststrasse«. This viaduct was the gate to a full-speed shot, winding downhill to »Fuchsröhre«, the point of destiny! Its name came from workers who had watched a fox sitting in one of the big drainage tubes when the Nürburgring had been built. This deep track section between two hills had to be taken as fast as carefully, and any wrong positioning before the car body was pressed into its springs again would have caused a trip into »Adenauer Forst« by leaving the road and taking the foot trails home ... in the best case. And the following uphill straight between two tricky bends could hardly be used for overtaking, perhaps if a car was significantly slower. Sally simulated this situation, trying to keep left and taking the next left from the inner entrance ... Okay, this was only possible if two pilots were working together, but having to fight their cars and the green hell as well. This short, left corner up the hill dragged her to the right edge too much for taking the next changing bend, starting with a right one and leading through Adenauer Forst. Starting this passage from the wrong position was against her rhythm and fast driving. But soon, four hissing tires left the tree-lined serpentine and made their way to »Metzgesfeld«, a kind of straight with a bumpy part leading to a fast left bend at its end. From »Kallenhard«, it went downhill. The tight right corner guided to »Spiegelkurve«, a symmetric left bend, the entrance and exit having the same angle. Next, three short right bends had to be taken before reaching »Wehrseifen«, but the car noticed only one elliptic arc. Wehrseifen, a tight left hairpin, was the slowest part, followed by another combination of right bends to »Breidscheid«: a surprising left, leading over a bridge down to Exmühle, and an uphill right, to be entered from the Nürburgring’s deepest point. The tires of her young timer struggled impatiently against the centrifugal force, but without causing any time-losing slides, they rushed to »Bergwerk«. A slight in, but flat-out pushed left curve in the fourth gear introduced the next right at the end of a short straight. The engine acknowledged every shift with its typical scream, and pushing again, they stormed the exit onto the outer edge. Taking this bend with the correct speed meant being fast enough for the next long and ascending left around what looked like a couple of curves, but this was not true. The following long stretch of »Kesselchen« meant still uphill! The B8 had taken this very well, but Sally knew this wasn’t all of it, because the »Mutkurve« was waiting for them now: a little crest complicated its entrance, and she had to push through this right bend into a short valley, watching the close-standing guardrails approaching her. This was typical for Nürburgring: the moment of watching those bends approaching out of the blue would be too late. A left arc guided them to another hill and another obstructed view. This track was made from sections with obstructed views, and the little green monster was brave enough to conquer them, grunting and shouting. The double bend of »Klostertal« came suddenly: hard braking into the right one, pushing out of the left one, and on the brakes again into the invisible. Sarah chose the second concrete slab and turned left into the cauldron of »Caracciola-Karussell«. There was no chance to speed out from a vertex here! The banked concrete slabs had to be followed to avoid jumping out and getting kissed by this hairpin's right outer guardrail. Leaving Karussell before the last slab, but without being kissed, she made her way to »Hohe Acht«: this right arc after a curve change had its name from a hill nearby, but did not mean the summit that was to be climbed. That passage was called »Hedwigshöhe«. Before reaching its top, she had a view of the sky over the Green Hell ... but no chance to see the exit of the next right curve leading the way down to the serpentines of »Wippermann« and again uphill to »Eschbach« ... and down again to »Brünnchen«. Brünnchen was a long right curve coming down a hill and again leading up a hill. Its short straight in the middle could not change its character, but the little jumping hill on it. This place was a crowd-puller because of spectacular fights and overtaking scenes, even though it was a curve. Left of the track, there was space enough for mobile kiosks and some parking. Most cars, however, were parked on the other side of road B412 that passed this track section. Sally only shifted down, and after her jump over the crest at the end of the straight, she had enough traction again to brake for the next bend, right-hand uphill. The Chevron left this last Brünnchen bend not speeding flat out, but by changing the road-sides because of the next left coming, leading first to the top, and then down again to »Pflanzgarten«. Entering this section looked similar to the last passage after Brünnchen, but this time the upper left bend did not only lead into a valley but into a gorge! She positioned the car at the right edge and directed it diagonally to the non-viewable jumping point. This was like teeing off a golf ball: It had to take the right angle at the right speed. But the ball should not touch the green in this case: ... she was the golf ball! Everything that followed now was flying blind into the abyss, but touching down on the best point for the next right bend in the valley. She followed the duck-tail of a dark blue Proske now, which had appeared in her view when she had her flight. Seidel drove at the end of the next straight, but she would have reached him soon. The straight now sent her to the first right bend of »Schwalbenschwanz«; its other right bend was at the end of it. Between was a left arc, crossing a little viaduct of a foot trail. On a map, they said, this track part looked like a sketched tail of a swallow ... At the end of Schwalbenschwanz, the Chevron faced the left-turning »Kleines Karussell«. It had again to be taken from the second banked concrete slab, but now she should follow to its last if Sally had not planned to drive all her way back, ... the car would have automatically turned around for that. The next bends were easier and led up again, but with their difficulties on top of the hill. Galgenkopf was a right-turning one and again over a second little summit, and that one dragged the little imp forceful to the left side and from there right down into the vertex of the last right, into the direction of »Döttinger Höhe«. At the end of the bend, she reached the Proske. Seidel had expected her ... and the small box next to her driver’s seat, just behind the shifter, had managed this meeting. How could more than 25 kilometers be timed so exactly, otherwise? She had allowed them to place it there without asking, or any further information ... If Seidel was her contact person, why did he request to play this game without telling her more ... Had she been too careful speaking with him? Anyway, she had to concentrate on the last tricky exit, speeding out of the last right bend, and getting into Seidel’s slipstream. This car in front of her was fast; nevertheless, she had an excellent speed out of the last bend, and shifting up to the fifth gear on the straight brought her close enough to try the sixth one. The space between the cars grew, but only for some time, and the slipstream did not tear off. This straight was long and the only goal was taking its ups and downs without losing speed. Sally had the time for thinking about this Volker Seidel ... Why should she play this local heroine without any driving practice? ... And even doing it this funny way: Her playing a princess of thunder letting the pig-out, riding against modern monsters on an old screaming frog prince! In what kind of fairytale had she been charmed? She tried to guess the options: this was a horrible test, whether she functioned or be killed in case of being useless, or ... was this the plan: having to die and losing her identity to someone else this conspicuous way? Okay: presently, she was the one to use a different identity, but if that was an advantage, what had happened to Denise Schaffrath? Who had an advantage at all from raising and educating two girls looking the same, only to kill one of them with reversed roles later? ... the same person who once let two women die in one action and resurrected them in the person of one professor? ... Perhaps someone already had to die at that time and no one ever knows who ... Was this repeating here and now? She had been in New Popplebush, where Thelma Moore was said to have disappeared, and now she was here in the German Eifel, where Charlotte Schaffrath vanished at the same time ... All this had happened one generation before. She could not believe herself. The whole thing had to be bullshit: For this complicated plan, someone must have expected all her decisions, and she was no zombie, was she? The only other option was: There was no special plan, and it did not matter whatever she would do or had done, the result would be the same, anyway ... balderdash! ... The words: »Biologist, Human Parthenogenesis, CIA« were spinning in her head, mixed up with a song: »The Cranberries: Zombie«!#

Antonius was no healer for pilots who got lost on the »Ring«... It was only a stone cross from 1763, made in the typical Antonius style and demonstrating a little statue of Mother Maria. It stood left of the racetrack, just behind a viaduct called »Antonius Brücke«. The official name of this section was »Antoniusbuche« because there had been a big beech tree next to the cross and a dedicated altar before 1935. This history was known to Sally, but this was not her subject now: Her foot on the brake, she asked herself how to take the next left bend without having a collision with Seidel, who had remained on the inner side and then was taken outside too early, and having lost precious time and power this way. Any attempt but to step on the brake sharply would have crossed his line and given both a free flight over Tiergarten. Section »Tiergarten« was not a zoo but a place where horses had been buried at war. Which war? The Eifel had experienced every known war since the first Roman Empire, when this area belonged to the Celtic Eburones ... She guessed that the dead horses belonged to the time of Napoleon and followed the Proske emotionlessly, under-challenged but without visiting any cemeteries. The down and up again after Tiergarten took them to the »Chicane of Hohenrain«, leading to »Start and Finish« at its end. Sally did not have to brake again; she only shifted down gears, and the Frog Prince grunted, bored. Volker Seidel! This man had written a simulation that had helped her survive this real track ... with every inch in its real place ... what the hell was he doing now? ... Okay, perhaps it was her fault because of filling his rearview mirror with her close appearance.

On the finishing straight, both cars came alive again, and Sally began to think about Seidel’s plan ... Why did he mean to be fast enough in the sections before Fuchsröhre? That was something to find out! ... But how should they deal with all the other cars they had to expect, if slower or faster? Indeed, they met an orange-colored competitor on the straight along the grandstands. It must have even left the pits long before them, but it was no problem for both cars to »pass the Dutchie to the left-hand side«.#

After the first few cars had left the pits for their out-lap, the lights for entering the track had turned red. The last one to leave the pits had been Sarah, alias Denise Schaffrath. There was a colorful mixture of vehicles standing in line and waiting for the entrance to hell. But the time at the pits had not stood still after Sally’s leaving: Debbie had noticed a British team with a Lotus Seven, and her crew hurried up to her next victim. Her crew, which meant Bob, his camera, and Takuma in his chauffeur suit, including his hat, who carried the connection cables for Debbie’s microphone. Nobody said »Takuma« ... they had agreed to call him »Harry«. Töns had changed clothes. He sat in the second Chevron, wearing a racing suit, and his smirking face was hidden by a full-face helmet when he joined the waiting competitors. Watching this, Arthur turned to Pitter: »And what about you and your joyride?« Now it was Pitter who smirked: »Isch wart, bis datt Denise kommt met dä Jiftzwersch (I wait for her poison dwarf)! ... And thank you for the seals! I never expected Taffy to have those special parts in his trunk!« Arthur nodded: »Our driving shafts have the same size!« – »What?! ... Did the Japs already copy this too?« Arthur looked down to his shoes: »Not exactly ... it’s the other way around ... for us: »Sardine in Oil« was yesterday ... Do you remember: what is a Jaguar without an oil stain underneath?« Pitter laughed: »I know it: It ran dry!«

Gordon checked the new seal at the edge of the Civic’s differential and looked satisfied. Taffy and Suwanay entertained the surrounding teams with dialectic puns, and both looked happy. Arthur talked to Bill and looked worried: »What do you think about this ... I mean, all this hustle and bustle around Denise is looking strange to me!« Bill felt his doubts confirmed, but was glad the conversation was interrupted before he could answer Arthur ... An expensive suit approached them and accosted Arthur: »Nice to meet you again ... even at this place!« Arthur was indeed surprised: »Benny Flint! What the hell are you doing here? This is no international championship on different circuits, not even a professional challenge!« – »You are wrong! This cup race has already become international and interesting for the European car industry! The old spirit is still alive: win on Sunday, sell on Monday! Look at the semi-works teams and the rising speed level; this needs professional management! ... I am coming in this case as the official racing director. It’s because of your funny young timer, and I would like to talk to you in private, please.« Arthur looked around himself: »It’s the best moment to talk to me in private because that’s why I’m here: a private visitor. If there is something wrong with the Chevron, the team boss is on duty at the time, and you will have to wait for her to come in!« Instead of an answer, Flint bowed to the approaching man, knowing that he was a mysterious business tycoon, publicity-shy but incalculable: »Konnichiwa, Suwanay San! I had never expected you here ... are you sponsoring the Orchid Classics Racing Team?« – »Not the sponsol, only theil negotiatol and notaly!« The »Japanese Emperor« had already understood; he was fast in understanding, and this was one of his qualities ... another was his passion for playing games! So, he added a peal of silly laughter to his words and fulfilled a typical cliché. Flint’s thoughts cruised: negotiator and notary? How could this »Hampshire Country Club« know ... He did not notice Bill and Arthur looking surprised, and Gordon having joined. Bernard Flint was only aware that his time faded away: »Gentlemen, I ask you to follow me into the race management. I have to inform you, and it is necessary not to get disturbed by all this thunder. On the other hand, you can better watch your client passing the finishing line from that view!« ...

Turning around at the entrance to the pulpit and looking down the stairway, he was surprised by the queue of following people; not counting one from Proske and one from Seidel-Software ... This had been planned.

Arthur watched out the big windows: Debbie was talking to Pitter in front of the pits; he just pointed right into the car box. A little later, three people, one wearing a chauffeur hat and all of them carrying some equipment, left the roofed paddock on the opposite side and made their way through outside standing trucks, tents, and oil-smeared mechanics, and hurried to the hillside grandstand T12a, next to Müllenbach-Straight, that led to »Hazenbach Bogen« and not to Ford Kurve on these special days. »Ford Kurve« belonged to the new Formula One track since the eighties and was unused when something was going on at Nordschleife.

Flint took the word. He pretended to inform everyone, but he meant Arthur: »Applause to your acting at registration and technical inspection; this was brilliant! But we have to protect our rules, and this little thunderbolt cannot be technically acceptable for this race because there was a protest announcement.« The men from Proske and Seidel shook their heads markedly, and Doctor Thies, who represented the car label, pointed with his thumb back over his shoulder to a blue-white sweatshirt and a suit, sitting together at a table in a corner of the room. The Seidel member shouted, »We have nothing to do with that!« and Suwanay remarked, »That would be even nicer: filst plofit, then plotest!« The Orchid folks looked surprised at their Japanese friend, and Flint felt forced to talk on fast: »Of course, nobody wants to harm this local heroine, and I’m sure we’ll find an agreement for everyone to live with! ... I want to provide a suggestion: there is an offer for your two Chevrons ... under the conditions that they won’t be used for race or further pieces of training this weekend.« Arthur was not impressed: »If someone wants to buy our cars ... I am here! And any conditions can be discussed, but not any selling them away under the girl’s seat ... that’s incredible!« Flint did not argue but took a pen and wrote something on a small writing pad: »It’s about this sum!« Before Arthur could react, Suwanay took the piece of paper to take a look. Then he used again his silly laughter. The suit in the corner cleared his throat, and the racing director took another piece of paper. Doctor Thies meddled: »I think we should not rush! What do you want to do for Denise Schaffrath? ... Shouldn’t she be considered too?« The suit got up and spoke from behind: »She already has an older »Threesome«, and we will give her a chance to drive a new »M3« next time!« – »That’s a little too fast again, perhaps we have the same offer for her!« – »I did not notice any official Works Proskes this season. What do you want to offer her?« – »Welcome to the Club! The Zakowskis intimidated you just as much, and we support as many private teams as your company, to accommodate her somehow!«

Arthur had lost any interest. He walked through the pulpit like an animal in a cage, being watched by a sorrowful-looking Bill and witnessed by the asking face of Gordon. Not even the voice of the track announcer seemed to impress him, although one of the speakers was fixed next to the window he was peeping through now. This changed immediately when two cars crossed the finishing line, sounding like a complete squadron, and was commented on by: »Achtung, Spitze!« Arthur was alarmed: What the hell ... Were these cars in a fight!? This wasn’t a race, not even a qualifying; this was free training! The two cars reached the end of the finishing straight, and the screaming B8 swerved before disappearing into the »Castrol-S«. A horrified Arthur Lombard crossed the room to change his view to Müllenbach-Straight. He did not listen to the announcer shouting: »Da hat doch unsere kleine Eifelhexe den guten Volker mal eben ...« And he did not notice the man from the Seidel Team leaving angrily the pulpit, and that the others had stopped talking. His crazy eyes were gazing like hypnotized at this track section, and the Chevron and the Proske indeed appeared, not even two car lengths between them. Arthur turned: »You have to stop them! ... They will kill themselves!« The suit got up and approached: »If your Amazon does not follow your instructions, you should call her back, so hurry to your radio set!« – »We ... we haven’t a radio ...!« – »No on-board radio? What kind of team are you English Hillbillies?« Gordon grabbed the suit and pushed it aside. Then he tried to calm his boss: »Don’t worry! They are experienced enough to know what they’re doing!« – »Experienced?! That girl has never been on this track before, I don’t know how she can make this, but it’s self-murder!« Flint turned to Bill: »Now I understand, why he stopped race driving ... do you have any medicine for him?«

Gordon led Arthur downstairs, calmly talking to him: »Let’s go to the nerds; they have an on-board radio, and they can do something!« Arthur peacefully followed: »Yes, they have to stop it!«#

Remote controlled

Sally had finished a clean cutting-off maneuver at the right moment and enjoyed it briefly. Now she wasn’t sure if Seidel harmonized her logical action or if she had an enemy at her back for the next journey around the Nürburg. A simple look into the back mirror made things clear: this was a rising thumb behind the windscreen and no middle finger! ... and »Seidel« was not a Turkish name ... She concentrated on the track, implementing everything she had experienced on the out-lap. Thanks to her excellent memory and the quintessence of simulation and short practice, she found her desired rhythm. For a moment, it was easy. Her thoughts turned to Alberto Ascari, who had been on the Eifel-Circuit in 1950 for the first time and won the Grand Prix of Germany! This was not an international championship event because Germany was not permitted to join after the war. However, in 1951, they did, and Ascari won again in his Ferrari, this time against the world's elite. In 1952, he repeated his victory, and in 1953, it looked the same for a while ... before he lost a front wheel. Sally did not want to play Ascari, but she was anything but slow, and she had fun! ... And this incredible amateur was behind her and holding the pace. He was sometimes driving a different line, but fast enough to follow her; could he be faster? Anyway, he let her do it, and that was the main thing ... Fuchsröhre! Now it was for real: a precisely steered S arc through what looked like curves, and full pipe into the valley! The chassis crouched down, exhaled deeply, and seemed to stop breathing for a short time; there could be no question of holding breath ... it was after exhaling. Before the next uphill left bend, it had reached the necessary respiration volume again, and the springs could resume work. Describing the pilot’s situation in this scene would be the same story, and Sally felt relieved and incredibly happy. After Adenauer Forst, she screamed out and hit the steering wheel: »Wasn’t this better than everything else, Mr. Nerd?« The Proske behind her did not show any driving mistakes. It followed her closer than before and took her line. She could not believe it: Volker said something like not being able to manage these sections by himself, and she also could not imagine someone who reacts fast enough to copy exactly the driving speed and driving line in one action ... on this unpleasant track!#

The man from the Seidel team, who had angrily left the race director’s building first, was more friendly now: »Come in, I’m sure we can manage to help you! Excuse my storming out of the pulpit this way ... I wasn’t informed about the new strategy, not knowing that your fireball is so strong ... Volker is enthusiastic!« Another Seidel nerd overviewed the four monitors on a large table. Then he turned back to the first and talked into his headset. When Sven approached with his guests, he switched on a loudspeaker and the voice of Volker struggled against the sound of a circular saw on heavy-duty: »This girl comes from either heaven or the opposite side! I never expected this hell-ride!« The monitor showed the Proske cockpit close behind the B8 rear, flying through Kesselchen and demonstrating his words. Arthur pointed to the monitor: »No, she is not Deni ...« He was interrupted by the loudspeaker: »She is the devil in disguise!« Arthur tried to say something else, but nobody cared at the moment. The Seidel team was busy with controlling, and Gordon was busy with being curious. The complete box had been filled with electronics and took the space of two racing teams ... The car itself had to be nursed next door by different specialists. Arthur knew how to work with a personal computer, but this was something different, and even Gordon was surprised. And he was able to get listened to: »This isn’t only telemetry for improving the car’s equipment, is it?« Sven got enthusiastic: »You are right: It’s telematic! However, we need something else, too. It’s the Ring-Flea who improves our equipment by letting the pig out! Using our cameras, we only have to take her data to be as fast as her! And Volker’s resulting driving gets copied to the virtual racetrack!« - »Did you put a GPS-bug into our old fireball for that?« - » More than this! A balance sensor shows every acceleration, braking, or shifting.« Arthur returned to reality: »Oh, yes ... and you probably get your data from a weather balloon!« Sven felt provoked: »We use four satellites and two bases, which component do you mean exactly?« - »Bases ... Military bases?« Sven tried to distract: »The topic is staying in contact and holding the ideal line at the best pace ... And we complete our knowledge by taking our information from leading cars like that of your little wonder woman!« Now, Arthur was in a mood: »What the heck! Put a camera into the car of any professional, and you have every piece of data you need! ... And you won’t have any trouble with other pilots who call you nasty!« Sven laughed: »This had been the lowest level; now, we don’t only copy their driving style, we clone it! Volker’s car reacts to Denise’s driving by three-component control: camera, satellite, and base in real-time ... a fast real-time! Volker takes control only in case of an emergency. Later, we evaluate the collected data to improve the conditions for a self-driving car in everyday traffic. Collecting data will be the key to everything this way. Currently, the car only knows the Nürburgring and our so far experience on this track ... and the driver should know the complete lap, too ... at least at present!« – »Aren’t there some more complicated things, for instance: Does your system know when to shift up or down for being as fast as Denise, or: How to react if the car in front has to brake unexpectedly?« - »It knows ... I promise ... perhaps with a little help from an experienced driver ... only from time to time ... and just for the beginning! ... On the other hand, you are right: even if we demonstrate a self-driving car, we are still on the first step in the case of common traffic, but already showing a sensation with fast cars on a racetrack!« - »To be as fast as a race car? Do you want to drive lap records by wire, with pilots as passengers?« – »No! Our goal is transportation by automatically driving cars that send data to satellites, and the satellites control all common traffic. This cannot be developed and tested in public; it would be the same problem as changing from left-hand traffic to right-hand, but starting with the trucks! And we do not want too many witnesses at the moment. We only work together with Proske. But Proske does not run a racing team for this cup challenge. They cannot risk losing against the Zakowskis with their current cars. Against more than 8 liters of cubic capacity, 600 hp, only 1050 kg of weight, and an undercarriage improved by engineers from the Eifel, there’s no chance! So, we have to take data like thieves and get into trouble like thieves ... And we thank you for your gift, especially many thanks to this little Tinkerbell!« - »O.K. then, Peter Pan, have a productive day ... And good luck to your experienced driver!« Arthur turned and left the box through the small door that was built in the big gate ... »What is he doing now? Does he tell ...« Gordon calmed Sven: »No! He has his special troubles!« Outside, Arthur met Pitter again, who was enthusiastic: »Did you watch this? So much for Fuchsröhre! The frog grabbed the fly at Castrol (original: Dä Hoppekraat hätt bei Castrol zujeschnappt!) ... hey, watt iss deer denn förn Laus öbber de Leeber jelaufen (what’s wrong with you)?!«#

Sarah had guided Volker through Karussell without paying attention to whether the following car might jump out of the cauldron or get attacked by armed guardrails or wild hedges ... because of vertigo or other beginner mistakes. He had followed her like a shadow over Hohe Acht and through Wippermann, Eschbach, and Brünnchen. Of course, the ski jump behind Pflanzgarten was the next big challenge, but her mind wandered back to history again when they approached the uphill right bend. At this place, in 1958, Peter Collins lost his life because of going much too fast for this bend. That was very mysterious: Collins was one of the best and had never made such mistakes before. In 1956, he lost the world championship to Fangio because he had given him his car at Monza. At this time, his Ferrari had been in second place, and without stopping at the pits and changing the driver, Collins probably would have become the winner of Monza and the complete season because his strongest opponent, Fangio, had just suffered from a technical defect in his car. Now, he and Fangio got half of the points for second place each, and Moss got the full points for the victory. At the end of the year, Manuel Fangio was Champion, and Stirling Moss was Vice Champion. In 1957, Manuel Fangio had his greatest win of all at Nürburgring. Many people call it »The Race of the Century«. The man who had been Formula One champion five times confessed later that in this race he had risked so much like never before and would never do again. Perhaps Peter Collins had tried the same in 1958, at the wrong section at the wrong moment ...By the way, Sally had already done her jump, circled through Schwabenschwanz, and now was entering Kleines Karussell, still having a Proske, format-filling, in her back mirror.

Seidel contacted his crew again: »We are near Galgenkopf now; inform her folks that I overtake her at Döttinger Höhe and give her some slipstream. I let her pass again before Antoniusbuche!« – »No informing possible, they have no onboard radio!« – »Anyway, I will try something else ... oh my God, this devil knows how to play violin!«

Sally had left Galgenkopf with an effective power slide that could not be recognized from outside as much as it felt inside the cockpit. Seidel, behind her, had to fight a little to correct the car’s rear with his steering wheel. It seemed not as easy for him as before, but it looked spectacular, and he managed this very well. Leaving the last bend, the Proske circled further to the right part of the following straight without losing too much power, and now, both cars drove side by side. Sally had expected something like this. It was logical: her car was not strong enough to develop the pace itself on this long straight. However, the Chevron was a sprinter, and it took some time for Seidel to overtake it. Changing into sixth gear at the right time made her follow with less space than on the lap before. She worked hard on the steering wheel and danced against the airflow, playing her instrument like a crying steel guitar but to the rhythm of boogie-woogie, while Seidel gave turn signals: first right, then left. In Sweden, people do this to say, »Thank you!« in public traffic. Most Swedish car drivers were nice, and it was wonderful driving through this country ... Of course, this signal now was no reaction but demand, and Sally did not think twice and passed the Proske right in time to get Volker into her line, dive into tricky Antonius, and use his strange technique again, whatever that was; ... Perhaps a kind of anti-aircraft missile reacting on a temperature sensor, but one that was able to slow down and hopefully even stop as well.#

Pitter was still standing next to Arthur. He realized that he was not doing well, but did not know what to say to cheer up the »Jong« somehow, or at least, to show sympathy. But then something came out of him: »Hässte Schiss, wejen dat Mädscher?« Arthur held a pit board convulsively in his hands. He had equipped it himself. Now, there was the same word on three levels: »IN!«. He lifted his head and looked up furtively at the giant. Then he nodded slightly. Pitter understood him somehow but wanted to dispel his worries: »Dee fährt lang jenuch am Ring!« Arthur didn't quite believe in his assumption himself any longer; that wasn't possible, and he had always been slightly paranoid ... but then he struggled through anyway: »Pitter ... may it be that ... it’s not Denise Schaffrath who is driving here? ...How well do you know her?«

»Achtung, Spitze!« The track speaker sounded across the home stretch, and Arthur started speeding with the pit board to the separation wall between the pit lane and the racetrack. He held the sign over the parapet and hoped this message made some sense. That would not have been necessary; the race control was also interested in having an early end to this show. Therefore, at the end of the straight, a contingent of marshals was ready to catch the two cars with black flags and lead them to the shortcut from the vertex of Castrol to the paddock behind the pits. Only these two cars had crossed the line, but the crowd of spectators on the grandstand responded with thunderous applause, as if having witnessed the end of a fantastic race, and their young local heroine and her four-wheeled veteran had been the winners against modern technology!

Both cars were welcomed frenetically by their teams, and the scene reminded Sally of her last stint at Thruxton. But this time it was an international show, and of course, Debbie’s team was the first to report this sensation: »Mr. Seidel, how does it feel having been beaten on this track by a woman?« – »What are you talking about ... do you think that I’m a sexist ... Are you a sexist if asking those questions?« – »There are no sexist questions, there are only sexist answers!« – »Oh yes, and the medium is the message! I don’t trust your rhetorical questions! Think about your words and come back later, Lady!« ... The stupid nerd had left her standing, but this was no problem for Debbie; there were better candidates for an interview: »Denise Schaffrath ... Hello? ... Has anybody seen her ...?« Two young people walked the pit lane, still filled up with adrenaline, pushing each other and joking. Before entering the nerd-box, they waved to the grandstand once again. Debbie tried to push Bob too, but he was too heavy and she could not stop him laughing, this way.#

In the pulpit of the race control, an auction was held. The only one who wrote sums on the pad was Suwanay San, now politely repeating the offers and smiling, sometimes with silly laughter. In the end, Bill nodded to the contract and subscribed.#

Sally was impressed: »When do you think those assistant systems with a high-speed function will be realized for public traffic?« Volker shrugged his shoulders: »We won’t do this by ourselves; it’s the right moment now to sell this project ... just like our racetrack simulation before. »Slipstream of Destiny« made us successful, and selling it to another company left us some money. If we had tried to promote it on our own, it would have been stolen, and we had nothing!« Sven was more talkative: »The lobbyists are sitting on good inventions and developments. However, this will only be realized if the market forecast is favorable. As long as old stuff sells well, they leave everything in the drawer. Something like our own equipment won’t be sold before the next five years to private customers, and good software gets copied and offered to users for free!« – »For free? That makes no sense: stealing something and giving it away for free, if you are not a kind of Robin Hood!« – »... A kind of Robin Hood or a kind of company for web information! The platforms that offer freeware earn their money by placing advertising blocks. This makes more money than producing something.« – »But didn’t Henry Ford say that fifty percent of advertising means wasted money ... and should there not be a product for making money first, if you want to earn some by advertising?« Volker meddled: »Ford did not know himself which fifty percent. So today, they multiply advertising to get a hundred percent result. I explain this »hundred percent«: At first, the costs for advertising are discounted from the tax ... in many countries up to a hundred percent! Next, think of the joke: »My husband is fifty years old, and I am twenty-five. Being twice as old, he will be a hundred when I’m fifty!« Everybody knows this invoice is wrong, but if some dubious financial advisors promise them to get a fifteen percent rate for their money instead of four percent bank interest, they cannot resist being the same silly people and will have lost a hundred percent at the end! It’s not the product; it’s the imagination of a product that makes the swarm intelligence follow, and so, everything is a product today, even any work or service. The states sold their social goods to those pushers, and now, those gangsters sell social products, giving nothing to the people who produce! ... By the way ... We are in your debt for helping us with your tremendous performance. This was a professional service, and ...« Sally was surprised for a moment. She looked from one nerd to the other and felt she had to say something ... No, she wanted to tell them something! »You owe me nothing! ... And I’m not a professional racer; I’m not even Denise Schaffrath ... I think ... I should be honest with you after this adventure!« Volker laughed: »A good joke! And who else dragged me over this track in less than 9:15?« – »Less than 9:15? That’s not too bad for a first ride!« Sally was taken into Volker’s arms: »We had an unforgettable time together for a little more than nine minutes, hadn’t we?« The others joined in and hugged her as well, one after the other. Sven murmured, »Thank you, Tinkerbell!«

Before she reached the little tin door, Sally turned once again: »Farewell, Lost Boys!« In her head, it was working again: Perhaps these guys had indeed no idea, but »Tinkerbell«? ... Life had made fun of her with too many coincidences! She went back to her folks and was none the wiser; perhaps she could glean something about Arthur. He must have had something to do with all this circus around Nürburgring, Denise, Pitter, Töns, and ... Suwanay.#

»Where can we find Mr. Lombard?« – »Solly, Gentlemen, he is absent; you can talk to Mistel Malsch ...: Goldon, thele is the Lacing-Empile fol you!« - »Eh ... Mr. Marsh, or may I say, Gordon? ... We still have to manage this problem with our local heroine. I would advise you to do this, would you?« – »You mean I shall tell her that she has lost her chance to start at the race? No, Benny, that’s your problem ... And if I think about it, she is the daughter of Andrew Moore ... I heard that he had not been easy to handle when things went wrong, so good luck!« Flint looked searching around: »Doctor Thies? ... Doctor Thies, you must come with me; think of your promise!« ... The suit and the blue-white sweatshirt approached: »Gordon, when will you deliver our cars to Munich?« – »Just a minute, Gentlemen!« Noticing Suwanay’s shaking head, he pretended to look into the contract papers: »Gentlemen, you can take the cars into your possession from the moment they have come into the pit lane. And I’m sure you have one of these new navigation systems that can calculate your driving time. So, have a good journey home and enjoy your new achievements!«

Gordon approached the little crowd around Denise. Nobody was shouting or scolding, but laughing at some jokes. He heard the Ring-Flea even say, »There’s nothing to do about it!«, and Doctor Thies added, »It won't be to your detriment! Come on Monday morning, and you will have this racetrack of your own ... there will be only some people from Focht; I think, they won’t disturb you!«

Suwanay San was standing next to Debbie and her microphone. Her world was in order again, and she knew how to ask the right questions, and her »Japanese Emperor« helped her play her game with sentences like: »It’s a gleat honol fol me to meet Magic Debbie at this place of thundel on this vely day!« ... But he was also used to observing everything around him at the same time, whatever he was doing. And so, he watched a green car enter the pit lane but then start again for a new lap, following another green car that had just left the pits. The scene was completed by a shouting suit and a running blue and white sweatshirt. Having witnessed this, it happened that Suwanay gave an unexpected answer to the question »What is your philosophy for success, Sir?« - »Hunting two joyriders means catching none!«#

Arthur wore his backpack again. Nobody had ever thought he had taken it with him, but that did not matter because nobody had even noticed him leaving the pit lane, anyway. At least he was sure about that. He only wanted to be alone. His bad conscience tortured him: why had he always been so crazy and exaggerated everything? The modern word for his behavior was probably »bipolar disorder«, but this did not improve things. Being bipolar meant for him that one pole was crazy, and his other was stupid ... However, he had never wanted to do this nice girl any harm!! And he refused to talk to Dorothy about it in his head this time ... She was even too shocked about his behavior and did not say anything at all. It wouldn’t help it anyway. And now he tried to free his head by walking the foot trails around the track and thinking about its history. When he had done this for the first time, he had been seventeen ... The complete Nürburgring, including Nordschleife and Südschleife, in one night and not on any foot trail but on the track. This had been long ago, and plenty of things had changed here. Südschleife had vanished together with »Sportholtel Tribüne«. Nordschleife had lost some details too, but not its mystic character and its never-ending story of triumph and tragedy. Walking this road at that time had brought his idols of yesterday near to him, passing the sections where they had been riding like Hussars or found their final destiny. And the history was still going on. Graf Berghe von Trips had said something like this: »The race is never finished!« Trips had gotten an exceptional nickname because of his fighting spirit at the Tourist Trophy at Dundrod in 1955. Dundrod is in Northern Ireland, but Trips and some Welsh motorsport fans had become friends, and Mike Hawthorn had made fun of this, calling him »Taffy«. In 1961, this German count was leading the championship and only needed to be fifth at Monza. Instead of this, he and fifteen spectators were killed in a horrible crash.

Arthur had come from the historic paddock and made his way to the left, along L93, passing the third paddock at his right, and further, to the entrance for tourist rides on the opposite side. From here, he wanted to take the trail, beginning at Hatzenbach. The third paddock was not used by racers and was filled with SUV cars decorated with stickers like: »Atomkraft? Nein Danke!«; some electrical bikes, and »Jute ist besser als Plasik« fixed to their big accumulators, joined the scene together with a large OB-van with »SWR« on its side. The entrance road to Nordschleife was blocked by a crowd of people holding up a big banner with the letters: »Powerfrau statt Kurvensau!« This was ridiculous, and he could not keep his mouth shut: »Isn’t this a sexist announcement?« At once, a policewoman appeared: »Verpiss dich, Freundchen, sonst setzt es was!« Arthur was not only pretending to be offended but shouted, »Hey, what have I done? This is a free country, isn’t it?« The Reporter of SWR was brought to attention and approached him, wearing her microphone: »Hello, would you tell us your name and talk about your point of view?« – »Yes, my name is Arthur Lombard, and I am from Great Britain. I just thought about the meaning of the transparent, and probably I did it too loudly for this officer lady. She called me »Freundchen« and wanted to hit me ... Is Freundchen something to hit? In this case, I don’t want to be her friend!« Two women appeared and gave a statement: »We are members of the Rhineland-Pfalz parliament and want to demonstrate this way that motorsport and tourist driving on the track of Nürburgring is unhealthy and destroys this beautiful part of Germany!« – »Yes, I see: You are the »Powerfrauen« of the government and protest against the People! I give you some advice: vote them out! Vote the People out! The other choice is: to sell the Nürburgring to some pushers who promise to make it healthy; you can do this if you belong to this parliament, and because most of Nürburgring GmbH. is possessed by Rhineland-Pfalz ... Or is this your way of telling us why you are going to do exactly this? This racetrack was built in an area with poor structures. The goal was to improve the conditions for the people by attracting tourists. Today, championship races have become too expensive for spectators, and Bernie Ecclestone brings his catering and does not share his income. That’s the only reason for your protest! Why don’t you tell the truth? You would be right! But you prefer to mobilize these pseudo-environmentalists to abuse them for your political advantage!« Some voices came out of the crowd: »Who do you think you are, you bloody island ape?!« – »Go home, we don’t need your wisdom!« Arthur shouted into the crowd: »Sorry, did I take your place in the sun? Put a bath towel on it next time to reserve it for after shopping; you are used to doing this in the countries where you spend your holidays, aren’t you?!« The politicians meddled: »It’s not only the wasted money, but it’s also the wasted nature; the world is dying of dirt and poison!« Arthur spoke more calmly: »This turning world has no significant disease! She already could stand the Ice Age, Erosion, and Eruption ... Instead of this, mankind only causes some light headaches! And one day, when all the innocent children will have to die of a climatic catastrophe, this will happen because of legalized poison produced by a system-relevant industry and some politicians who pay their bills with the fruits of sold promises!« Someone shouted: »No! The electrical power will save us from any combustion engines!« Arthur laughed: »Do you mean to empower your over two and a half tons weighted SUV with electrical energy? You need an extra trailer for batteries, each filled with twenty Kilograms of Cobalt, and your private nuclear power plant when you go on a journey, and the next generation will call for Otto motors, again!« – »And the CO2 Disaster?« – »Put it into a glass of water, and you get H2CO3 ... that makes even your Champagne sparkle! But be careful: after drinking, you will have even more CO2! When German politicians fly to other countries and teach them how to do things right, one big airplane for one bloody minister and some bloody staff makes more CO2 than the complete Formula One season.«

The track speaker sounded from afar and interrupted the discussion, informing about the end of the free practice. Now, there was no time to lose for the demonstrators preparing for the tourist riders to enter the circuit. Indeed, there was the first victim to get stopped and scolded! It was the Ring-Taxi filled with customers that stopped in front of the shouting mob. The driver stepped out: »Habter jesoffen? Isch versteh jarkin Wocht (can you speak some more clearly)? ... Nä! Dä Arthur! ... Wo kommsse jetz, ... hässte de Mafia weeder Kasperbuden vertickt (Hello Arthur, it’s a long time ago ... I watched your show on TV last week)!« Arthur was surprised: »Sandra Rickmann! Do you still know me? ... Last time you were a little child!« – »You are right, I only recognized your Che Guevara Cap! In our bakery, there is still a photograph of you, Albert, and Andrew. I’m on your arm, playing with your hat!« Arthur was pleased to meet someone nice on this day. He turned to the crowd: »I don’t need to introduce the winner of a twenty-four-hour race, do I?« And after public applause, he pointed to the banner above their heads: »Look, they made it for you!« Sandra pretended to be surprised: »You must have misunderstood something, Folks! Power-Woman is OK, but you have to let out the pig if you want to be fast in the curves, ... only on the straights you cannot win a race! ... But just a moment: do you want to say something against my curves ... is this forbidden now?« saying this, she posed like a model and got some applause again. Then she took Arthur in her arms and waved farewell: »Isch muss fertisch machen, mah et juut Arthur ... un eehr maat de Driss heer weck, isch guck mer dat jleisch an (I have to do my job, farewell Arthur! ... and for the rest of you: clean up this mess, and we forget about it)!« Before Arthur turned to leave, the SPD politician walked in his way: »Why does an English car dealer walk around and tell us stories about our home?« Arthur shrugged his shoulders: »A Japanese emperor told me something about it ...« – »Oh yes, ... why not the Emperor of China?« – »I beg your pardon, the Chinese Emperor! I don’t even know that fellow at all ...and if I did, you wouldn’t believe me!« The officer shouted: »Hasta Siempre, Che!« And Arthur answered: »Farewell, Freundchen!«#

»Arthur!« ... Arthur was on the foot trail between Hatzenbach and Hocheichen. On the way up, he looked down the slope as if his eyes were searching for something ... »Arthur Harmann!« ... Underneath, there was only the track of Hatzenbach: the exit of a right bend, and a straight to the next one, changing from left to right. »Arthur ... wait!« The woman was hard breathing. He had seen her face before in the crowd of demonstrators, ... and numerous years before that. He began to doubt being here in the Eifel. Perhaps he was not looking down at a racetrack at all, but to any road anywhere, and he was falling from the sky ... perhaps out of an airplane, maybe on the way from Geneva to Heathrow. They say that your whole life passes you in the twinkling of an eye when you’re going to die ... This was matching to him: not his life but his crazy fantasies about life, and not in a twinkling of an eye; in slow motion!

»Do you still remember me?« – »Yes, Ma’am, you’re Antje Johanning, your friends called you Annie!« – »Will you still call me Annie? We had not only been friends; we had been in love!« Arthur’s talking did not show any emotions, and that was different from his normal behavior: »Maybe, it was love! I did not wish anything more like this at that time ... A fatal error!« – »A fatal error ... because of what? You suddenly had disappeared, and that’s what it was!« – »I didn’t only vanish ... It was an escape! ... An escape from incapacitation ... from being your underdog, or better: »being an invalid X chromosome«! I listened to your discussion in your Girl's Club of Revolution in our commune, and that opened my eyes! What else did you say? ...: »We need male-free zones for abolishing violence against women and a future for free human beings!« Look into history and its way of defining enemies: the victims change, but the algorithm stays ... The algorithm of judging one injustice with the next, and enjoying this divine power like all the goddesses and gods before.« Annie got honestly angry because she felt not guilty at all: »I never meant you, and it’s your fault if you eavesdropped on something which wasn’t for your ears!« Arthur looked frustrated: »Thank you! Would you say this to a Jew too, after laughing with your mates about a tasteless Jew joke?« – »That’s not the same, and you have no right to compare yourself with a Jew as long as you have not been a victim of racism. What you are doing is called sedition! You’re not even a victim of sexism because: if people are victims of sexism, then the women!« – »Thank you again for this lecture on the sovereignty of interpretation and civil law! Is it what you call equal rights? I tell you what all people have in common, anyway, if being offenders, victims, or if they are relevant to your standards in any way at all: we all have only one fucking life. Perhaps we can change some details, but not our destiny. So, the only question for me is, how mankind has to live further if not with a bad conscience, ... I sometimes cannot sleep, thinking about my daily disasters ... must have to do something with my typical social handicap being a man.« – »What reasons ever you may have ... Why should I have a bad conscience!« – »Oh, of course, ... you do not need a conscience at all, because you need some realization for that ... Only the mobilized pack decides who’s wrong or right!« – »Have we all been a pack, being young in the seventies?« – »Not, if we felt responsible for our doing and if our happiness did not depend on taking it from others instead of sharing it with them!« – »What is happiness for you?« – »The only happiness in life is to love and be loved!« – »So, you robbed even this definition, this time from George Sand!« – »No! Sharing her philosophy keeps her alive!« – »And ... are you happy?« – »No!« – »So, what?« – »I know the opposite, that must do!« He turned and tried to go his way, still listening: »We are no fascists! We are anti-fascists!« Arthur waved without looking back: »That’s what Ignazio Silone tried to explain, ... and he called it: »the new fascism«!« He still heard her shouting: »I can’t believe that I have ever loved you: Asshole!« Arthur stopped and turned around, looking at her in an inquiring way. He took some time to say it: »Yes, this better should be over ... especially: better for you! I don’t love anyone because of being a professional misanthropist, and you can call me an asshole or worse ... it’s probably your equal right, and you surely are permitted to hit me down because of the same right. And of course, I am not permitted to say or do anything similar to you because of any human rights. I won’t do it for another reason: I get terrified by only thinking about violence! But I won’t discuss our difference: It’s not worth it! And before you won’t stop talking to me, I explain this »professional misanthropist«: It means, that nobody is born to dislike others ... It takes some time to learn it the hard way, some experience for being professional!« Listening to himself talking made him suddenly look as if a gearbox had started to shift in his head ... triggered by the word »professional«: »Why did you follow me to Hatzenbach? ... Probably not because of the good old times! Let me bet: You did not gather with the demonstrators; you belonged to the politicians! ... you once studied sociology, didn’t you?« She did not show any embarrassment: »I’m running an agency for political consulting and want to suggest a meeting; they want to see you!« He shook his head: »Why should they? They know my point of view!« - »Your point of view is something you once took with you to England. Thinking people change their minds, but you just kept an old memory, and remembering is different from thinking, the same way as you are different from an Englishman either ... everyone can see it: you are still the German roughneck in any talking and behavior ... a proletarian in a legacy outfit having reached some prominence with his sensational auction on the Web. Come back and look at the Germany of today, learn something new ... learn something more than selling any rust buckets ... even though it was a good start! You belong to the generation of baby boomers, and your life story can be an example for others ... an example for unlimited options in a free Europe: the success of a simple workingman having had a simple idea!« - »Oh, I understand! We both talk in public about our modified common history, and your political friends close the gap to the extra-parliamentary opposition ... you need a well-known proletarian selling you alibis!« - »Living means giving and taking ... at one point you are wrong: we both will never discuss our common past in public; I cannot afford that, there must be another way!« - »And I prefer selling rust buckets to selling myself, or worse: selling others! I guess it’s challenging to understand for someone living on the better side of life, having not been put in the body of a toxic man and taking advantage of everything that happens to others ... in other words, working people may learn from making mistakes, politicians, however, do learn how to manage the mistakes of working people! Thank your god, or whatever, for not being like the others, for instance, the lowly of birth.« He waved again: »For eternity!« She also had her last sentence: »What shall this stupid »for eternity« mean once more?« – »Sorry, so: Hasta Siempre! We both used to say this, waving goodbye!«

She had finally left, and he was glad to be on his own again. In his head, there was music: »Ton Steine Scherben« sang »Der Traum ist aus«. He still looked back in her direction, but did not mean the place where she had been standing ... it was the track section below the slope, viewed from the other side next to Hocheichen. He was gazing at it once more with searching eyes, but having lost any memory of it.#

»At the end of Hatzenbach, it caught him: slope up, somersaulting, slope down again, and circling into the green. His Abarth Bialbero lay on its top, but he could get out on his own. Back at the pits, we were standing together, congratulating him and making jokes. Suddenly, an emergency car approached, Albert and this girl jumped out, took him into the car, and Arthur disappeared ... for a quarter of a century, to this very day! Pitter thought he knew her and that she would look like a woman from Adenau. We did not believe that because she only spoke English, which sounded like a kind of Dutch or Afrikaans. She never stood together with us, ... only with Albert and Arthur or Andrew at championship races. She must have been your mother ... and, when I think about her, she looked like you! But we only know the story about you and your family from the newspaper, and we never dared to ask you about it, because we had witnessed your reaction to the newspaper article at that time.« Töns was glad that he had a chance to talk about this, and he never expected Denise’s questions after all these years. For the first time, he could talk about all these rumors without risking saying something wrong. He was sure: It was only good for her, having finally contacted the »Orchid-People«. Sally had the same thoughts and did not even notice that she was believing this story for a moment. Slowly, a small crowd had gathered around them. This had become a ritual at the end of training or even racing. It was something to calm down and have some fun, there being no opponents for this time. They loved to listen to their »Fairy-Tale Uncle«, and they should not be disappointed this time as well. He went on: »This crash was bad luck for Arthur ... A fortnight before, he had let the sparks fly! It was the last time on an NSU TT. It was wet, it was April, and it was cold, the best conditions for rain drivers and air-cooled rear engines of small cars. At the end of the race, he was second in his class for 1300 cc, but faster than most of the drivers from the 1600 cc class. One of these vehicles, with front engines but rear-driven, was followed by him through Hohenrain and just before the checkered flag. It wasn’t so useful to overtake this opponent for getting 10th or 11th overall and staying second in his group, but he wanted to know it, and at the end of the chicane, both came out driving side by side. The other car was coming too close, he touched the wet grass on the edge of the track, and began to skid to the outer side. He tried to intercept his NSU, but kept the throttle down, now skidding to the other side and still in front of his opponent. At last, he crossed the finishing line, still spinning around. He finally stopped on the grass between the grandstand and the track. When he was later asked what had happened, he confessed to having lost control after the last spin. The track speaker called this action »Hasenfuß-Technik« because his car had zigzagged like a hare on escape. From this moment, Arthur had his special name at the pits: »Dä Hätzebrenner«!«

Hasenfuß! Sally was delighted: this was a game and not a horror story! All of these people were connected and gave a theater play. And they made all this fuss to watch her playing her role ... Looking back, this had been a little dangerous, and she had made the mistake of telling the nerds something about her real identity. This was enough for having failed the examination, but it wasn’t over yet, and everything else had been easy ... It should come some easier: »By the way, Denise: tell me something about America. Would you finally reveal your secret? Pitter is sure you’re working together with Focht. Have you been in Detroit, too?« – »Just as you said, Töns! It’s still a secret, but I can tell you something: In Motown, you won’t find any good music today! I’m sorry, but you have to wait a little more! But please excuse me, I have to look for Arthur now ... because of the Chevrons!« She hurried to Bill: »When will Arthur be back from his walk?« - »Sorry, he has his backpack, and he is frustrated. If both come together, he will walk for hours! I’m not sure if we meet him here again or a few days later at home.« – »In which direction?« – »From here, the best foot trail is down to Quiddelbach. If you take Debbie’s car, you can drive B258 to the right and then, once more, B257 to Adenau. The trail crosses the road at the bridge.« – »Debbie, may I take your car?« – »Do you want to drive to your grandma? I have an idea ...« – »Debbie, please, I’m rushing!« – »Okay, but next time ...?« – »Yes, I promise!« Debbie turned to Bob: »We must reload the equipment into the Rolls!« Bob turned to Akuma: »Harry, the car, please!«

Sally was sure: this was her next task! She had found it out, and hopefully in time. Her car carefully threaded its way through the busy outside paddock. She watched Gordon and Taffy planting their Cosworth into a Lotus Seven of a British team. The original engine swam dead in an oily sump. This was racing: needing help meant getting help, even if having an advantage at the finish. Racers before a race were different from racers in a race. For herself, the race was over this weekend, but she couldn’t help it.#

»How can I help you, Ma’am?« Arthur followed the young girl from the end of the trail at Qiddelbach Bridge to an old Opel Ascona and two other women standing around. Now, she asked him, »Du nix Deutsch? Are you a sailor? Cicero says, »There are three kinds of people: the living, the dead, and the sailors«.« The others meddled: »This is from Aristoteles!« – »No, from Plato!« One of the girls looked like Janis Joplin in her outfit and her glasses. This was very sympathetic to Arthur. On the boot lid of the car there were two stickers: »Ich bremse auch für Männer!« and: »aber verlass dich nicht darauf!« ... That was very unsympathetic. He was led to the right side of the car, and she pointed to the front wheel: »Platt wie Briefmarke! Du verstehen?« Arthur wiped over the imprint of the wheel and harvested his first lesson: »If I tell you that this wheel is punctured, you can believe this!« He looked up: »I want to know the tire size to compare it with your spare wheel. There might be some differences when a car has been used for more than fifteen years. I hope you have a spare wheel!« The answer was fierce: »It’s in the trunk! We don’t need you for talking, but for changing the wheels!« He found the wheel together with a good jack, a wheel cross from the accessories trade, and two wooden blocks. It was good to have the blocks if the chassis was rusted through on load-bearing parts. Before he lifted the car, he began to loosen the screws a bit and was scolded again: »Do you want to damage or repair? Next, the wheel drops!« He did not react but asked, »Could someone sit in the car to push the brakes?« He had already expected something like this reaction: »I shifted in the first gear, that should do, shouldn’t it?« – »Perhaps not, the gearbox works to the rear and I need the front to be blocked to free the last screw ... It’s too tight! But anyway ... I try it on my own!« The car moved the crankshaft to the next compression; the front wheel made some scratching on the ground, and the screw was released. Supported by a fixed handbrake and two stones, each placed on each outer edge of the opposite wheels, Arthur lifted the vehicle and finished the changing. But he made a bad mistake, saying, »This would have been the first screw not to get loose!« The reaction was frightening: »What a macho!« – »Who do you think you are!« ... He left them standing and walked to a low bridge of the 257 that could only be recognized by its railing and crossing a small stream, to wash his hands. When he climbed back up the short slope, an Opel Ascona stopped at the edge of the railing and obstructed him from stepping onto the road again. He stepped on the concrete edge of the bridge and looked into the open car window from the outside of the railing and listened to what they had to say: »This wasn’t very nice, to disappear without a word, you don’t want to have anything to do with us, do you?« – »That’s right! But maybe you had preferred me passing by and a friendly wave instead of being this vulgar to help you!« – »Oh, you want some trouble, why didn’t you say it first!« On the left side of the car, two doors opened, and two grinning faces approached the railing. The third one needed some time to get out because of the gearbox tunnel; there was no space for stepping out between the right passenger doors and the bridge railing. Now, two were standing in front of this railing opposite Arthur, still on the outer edge, his hands on the railing. They seemed amused: »You disturbed our demonstration, and now, you will take a bath! You can even jump into the water as well, so we do not need to have our hands dirty!« – »Dirty hands must be your main problem ... at least in the case of changing car wheels!«

Sally watched a car standing on the road, close to a bridge railing ... and Arthur standing behind the railing! She stopped behind it. Next, she saw an unfriendly sticker on its trunk, and a group of people in front of Arthur, each one behaving strangely. She drove on, passing the car by, and stopped behind two women. Arthur had recognized Debbie’s car and its well-known decals, but he had not expected this driver, who got out shouting, »What the hell is going on?!« – »Piss off, Midget ... you're disturbing us!« The girl with Janis Joplin glasses did not speak further; she was busy thinking: Why was she sitting next to her friend? OK: This was normal ... in the car but not in the middle of its bonnet while they were watching this raised forefinger of a midget. They even watched two fingers, but one was pointing to the driver’s seat and making some spinning movements. This magic finger was remotely controlling the third young lady and stopped turning after the door was closed from the inner side. Now this finger pointed to the next candidate and began its work again, the other one still requesting: »Attention!« The magic moment ended with three ladies sitting in a car and having closed the doors. Sally looked smiling into the open driver’s window: »Would you please drive on before I get angry?« – »But ...« - »I meant: Off you go ... NOW!« The engine started, the gearbox cried out, the car made a jump, and the engine was off ... - »I cannot drive a car!« - »Why didn’t you say this first? Change seat position and hurry up!« Arthur, still standing in his place outside the bridge, leaned over the railing, speaking into the still open rear window of an old Ascona: »Your Cicero must have been a wise man, but there’s something even he did not know! There are three kinds of snakes: The See Snake, the Spectacled Cobra, and the Blindworm!« Before the car rushed on, there was a whispering: »Plato!«

»And who said this about snakes?« Arthur still looked into the side window of a car that had already vanished: »I don’t know ... Everything was once said, perhaps not by everyone!« Sally laughed: »And this reminds me of Karl Valentin! ... Are you OK, Arthur?« He watched that silhouette of a little girl, hiding a tough heroine. The sun was already going down behind the trees in the west, and it seemed as if the hilly forests were interrupted only by this road, roofed by a bridge that carried the racetrack of the green hell ... This girl had appeared like a thief in the night, continuing a mysterious tradition. She even looked like her mother. Taking advantage of the space gap beneath the bridge, the sunshine changed the viaduct into a light source, beaming the girl’s figure like an image of Thelma thrown onto a wall by a projector. In Arthur's imagination, this even made her the Messiah who had come over on the last rays of the sun, ... for whatever purpose. But the Messiah looked like a rhinestone country star of an American rodeo show, wearing short high-heeled boots, blue jeans, a white blazer, and a red blouse with ruffles. Only the Stetson was missing ...

The light source turned dark, one moment to the next. A convoy approached, passing under the viaduct and pushing away all the sunbeams and Arthur’s fantasy.

Sally felt justified! It had not been necessary to ask Arthur what had happened: another task of this ridiculous game had been solved by her, and now the task force, she hoped, finally came together: the Rolls and the Scimitar, each pulling an empty trailer, and the vans with the families of Pitter and Töns and some smaller cars stopped one after the other next to Arthur. Suwanay was the driver of the service car: »That devil of a woman rreally caught you, and therre’s no rrunning away again, old fellow! See you at the Wild Pig!« Taffy stopped the Rolls Royce, grinning from one ear to the other (Taffy was grinning!), and Debbie held a glass of champagne: »Here’s to you, Arthur! I had never expected this from you. See you at the Wild Sau!« Pitter and Töns said something similar: »Thank you for the invitation!« - »Bis gleich, beim Wilden Schwein!«

She pretended to be unsuspecting: »What’s going on now?« Arthur was unsuspecting indeed, saying, »We’ll meet at Wildes Schwein«?!« It was time to hurry and not fail her last task: still being Denise Schaffrath, knowing what »Wildes Schwein« means, and knowing the way! So, she followed the last car, and Arthur looked confused. This naive romanticist was nothing but a perfidious actor playing the fool! This whole society was a »mean pack ... disguising themselves as lovely crazy philosophers and being nothing but a bunch of tricksters, torturing a little girl, and letting her believe she was watching a creepy fairy tale. ... Ok, maybe it has to be this way, ... training and examination of a spy with such an effort and this kind of psychological stress.« ... But she did not want to get stressed; she wanted security and friendship from them, just like a little girl! But why had Debbie and Bob not filmed the scenes with the barbarian girls? Perhaps because Bob’s laughing would have been disturbing? ... Arthur began with a sudden short laugh: »I have never met a girl like you! Everything you do is incredible: you help an opponent, who already got supported by an NSA system of satellites, over Nürburgring to show him how to drive fast, instead of doing what you came for; you talk English like an American, switch between German dialects, and chase away a gang with some hand and finger movements ... Did you learn this in a small Eifel village, or are you a well-educated spy, flying a fighter jet next?« ... This was the end! She had failed her examination, and this bloody commander of a game-playing task force made fun of her just before she got her official examination result ... Or had it been that ... the result? This was frustrating, and she commented on her situation: »This was not very nice, Sir!« Arthur started automatically his bad conscience, not knowing why; and so, he only had a whispering: »Sorry, I did not mean it!« for her, causing just her shoulder shrug, as a reaction. After they had passed under the Breidscheid bridge, he watched the gasoline station on the right side and a motorist filling a reserve tire with air. The Opel Ascona stood in the direction coming from Adenau, and the woman was alone. He turned his head to have a view through the rear window. Turning back again, he seemed surprised and remarked: »It was a fake: they did not have a puncture at all!« Sally did not react at all, this time; she did not care either ... She followed the street with an empty look.#

Gambit declined!

The pub’s parking was filled with British cars. Arthur was surprised by Bill’s Jaguar MK2 next to Elena’s TR6, and Bill’s wife, Eveline, was talking to Dorothy, Elena, Rainer, John, and the others standing around and having fun. Sally was missing three nerds. Maybe they weren’t necessary because they already had reported her telling secrets to the enemy ... Some passers-by stopped, and began talking about yesterday’s cars; one took photographs of the MK2 looking the same as Peter Nöcker’s, the winner of the European Cup for touring cars in 1963. A young, uniformed lady approached the Rolls, intending to open the door for the celebrity guest. At the same moment, all the doors jumped open, and the car released a wild bunch of young people who did not take any notice of her. »I hope you forrgive me this little joke, Madam ... My name is Suwanay, ... Tsugio Suwanay! This is Takuma Yamamoto, my trravel-parrtner!« The two men had just left the Orchid Service Car, lifted their hats, and bowed. An older Opel Ascona came from the road behind the house and stopped next to the staff entrance. Another uniform called the driver: »Hurry up and change clothes, the Boss already asked for you!« Suwanay stole Dorothy from John’s arms and walked her happily smiling into the foyer, leading the group of guests.

Dorothy pointed to the corner in the back dining room: »What are those people doing here?« - »... They are politicians from...« – »I know who they are! What are they doing ...« - »The directorate apologies: ...« – »The directorate? ... Which door to the directorate, please?«

Arthur wasn’t only late but also still wearing his backpack, unaware of that. When he entered, the uniformed receptionist hurried to hide a pair of spectacles in her office drawer and stepped in his way: »Excuse me, we have a closed society!« Suddenly, a cowgirl stormed in and filled the gap between them with her white blazer and red blouse with ruffles. She wore a Stetson hat and acted like a loaded Winchester gun, ... and she did not care if any exams had not been passed. On the contrary, she wanted to show them all her frustration, and her ability to examine her examiners: »Closed society? I only hope this! And if you take a look at your guest list, you’ll find his name on it; and if you can’t read this list, you should take your glasses out of the drawer, Spectacled Cobra! ... And now we both will have a walk to your boss!« – »Sorry, Madam, the management is currently occupied ... with a ... with the English Queen!« Sally was amused, but she failed to show this; ... it was funny but not wrong, and on the other hand, she had a much better idea: »OK, I will meet you and the other goats behind the house, if you don’t like to get thrown out. And don’t forget: I’m watching you ... you can call me »Captain«! Sometimes I have three goats for breakfast, ... Stay! You have to ask for permission to go!« – »Eh... permission to go?« – »Not: »... Permission to go?«, but: »Ma’am, yes Ma’am: asking for permission to go, Captain!«... You will learn this, I promise! And now, hurry up without asking for permission to go! ... Any misunderstanding? I said: go!!« The captain passed a confused Arthur without a word and went off, too.

»Why should we call you Captain and do what you want? You attacked us and that’s the fact!« – »That’s because you have no other choice and only came because of knowing that! You offended one of your exclusive guests, and by the way, a captain of the USA Air Force! And now, you’d better tell me the complete story, or we are no longer friends ... You don’t even know what my friendship means till the moment you have lost it!« – »We only wanted ... We only wanted to play him a prank because he crashed our demonstration ...« – »What demonstration?« – »Against dirt, noise, and machismo! Then this bloody Ring Master appeared! They knew each other ...« – »Why: bloody Ring Master?« – »She has won a race on Nordschleife ... a twenty-four-hour race!« Sally could not hide being amused this time, but then she got herself under control again: »And who told you to play this prank?« – »It was an idea ... Watching him coming down the foot trail, we pretended a puncture and asked him for help!« – »Please don’t report us, we are students and need this job!« Sally’s face turned to its most angry level: »You abused his helpfulness to make fun of him? Perhaps you should study some philosophical themes if you are a student. I would suggest Immanuel Kant. His shortest version of the Categorical Imperative is: »What you do not want what is done to you, you should not do to anyone else!«#

Dorothy was not amused, and the manager’s apology did not make it any better: »Of course, we don't want you to be disadvantaged if you deny this corrupt bunch any privileges. But we do not feel obliged to limit ourselves in any way because of this. This house was booked completely for this society, and the warranty for our undisturbed overnight stay and your offer of a discount may not satisfy Suwanay San because a discount would not be an option!« She turned to leave but suddenly stopped, having noticed a 486 together with a modem and a printer: »But I will put in a good word with him!«#

Meeting the waiter, Sally apologized for having stalled his colleagues: »Siamo spiacenti di interrompere l'operazione!« He was pleased: »Non vale la pena menzionarlo, siamo sempre al tuo servizio, Signora!« She put her hand on his shoulder: »Signorina, Salvatore!« He looked happily after her entering the dining room: »Did you listen to this?« The three had just joined him, and Karolin answered: »That gun of a captain wants to be called »Fräulein«!« – »No, I do not mean that! ... She called me Salvatore! Ring Master Denise Schafferath knows my name!« The three got pale: »That’s Denise Shaffrath? ... Yes, I remember having seen her somewhere!« – »Why don’t you know this? You are the receptionist!« – »And she is an American Air Force pilot?!« – »Why not ... perhaps in Bitburg!« – »Spangdahlem, Bitburg is closed! And she is wearing a Stetson!« – »And she is a Ring Master too?« - »That’s right: Someone who had a win on this track!« - »It was also high time to introduce quotas for women in motorsport!« – »Maria, Donna Mia! Nix quotas! Not talking about extra women's parking in the Parc fermé! Don’t let her listen to this. Old tradizione in the Eifel: primo Grande Premio 1927 Elisabeth Junek, being as tiny as Denise: winner of class tre litri on Bugatti, nix ladies’ cup! And all the others who followed to this very day! Hannelore Werner won the 1969 third 24-hour race of Nürburgring; the first one was in 1967. Nobody knows that because the officials count from 1970. In 1997, Sabine Schmitz even had her second win. Little Italiano di Napoli knows better because Tina and Marina Tedesca are nix interested ... When you talk to Signorina Schafferath, nix saying women’s cup; say »Captain« and basta! ... Maledetto!«

Arthur tried to smile at her, but he did not know what mood she was in. On the other hand, he was annoyed himself, so he tried a joke on her: »Hello, have you got your thugs under control again?« She had already sat down, but gave an impression of standing up: »My thugs? I was sure they belonged to your second-hand theater group! ... And I’m fed up with you playing this charade! Just tell me my result, and you’re rid of me!« – »Who is playing charade ... and what result? ... The only result for me is: sitting next to one of the nicest and most educated princesses of thunder! A mysterious princess: Captain?!« – »It ... it was to intimidate them ... to get something out of them!« – »Whatever you wanted to get out ... why didn’t you ask me?« – »I beg your pardon! I can’t treat you this rudely to get something out if you are indeed my supervisor or godfather at the end!« One of the girls asked: »What do you want to drink, Captain Basta, Maledetto?« On the other end of the long table, a waiter hit his forehead and seemed to play some tragic heroic scene from an Italian opera, and in Sarah’s head, a famous question from Hamlet was given, even though her reaction to Arthur was not so theatrical: »We have to talk outside ... Now!«#

John occupied a bar stool next to Bill with a perfect overview, even of the back corner and the politicians. He was wearing the civil clothes that Dorothy had chosen for him, had a beer, and was smiling. So, it could not have been the uniform or the tea! Dorothy, coming from the office, gave him a kiss and a piece of paper. Then she repeated this with everyone sitting at the bar and the long table, without kissing them. At last, she and Suwanay San talked about the text on the paper. After a short look at it, he nodded. Sally and Arthur arrived just in time when the emperor got up. He did not get up to say something, but to sing. It was a song by a Dutch group, even though the song text was in German: »Botts: Das weiche Wasser bricht den Stein«. The Orchid Society knew this German song and joined in singing, while half of the politicians left their corner and the house. They belonged to the »Greens«, a party that once had been founded by people who were against any weapons and any atomic industry, and now had a minister who had been one of the European leaders to plead for war in former Yugoslavia ... Those who remained sitting belonged to the »SPD«, more a club of Chameleons but a party calling themselves »Socialists« ... this was well-known for more than eighty years. And so, they got up and joined in singing, and their political »Power-Frau« stood next to the »Asian investor«. After the last refrain, everyone sat down again except for this politician. She still stood beside the chair of the well-known Japanese businessman and began to give a speech: »Dear friends from everywhere in this, our common world! Let us remember the great times of the early eighties, when the peaceful spirit of a united Europe began to grow like a sensible plant, and the young people gathered around our friend Erhard Eppler to build a new and common consciousness, which had its first highlight with the reunification of Germany some years later. And so, I want to deliver our best wishes with these words of a great European: ...« - »Arthur, can you roll me a cigarette, please ... I ever wanted to know what a kind of »Kraut« you are smoking all the time!« Arthur laughed and wasn’t even surprised about the words of his Japanese friend who never used to smoke: »What do you think ... it’s just Kraut! Everyone is smoking, what he means to be! Come on, we should go outside!« With them leaving, others got up too, confessing to being latent smokers, including Dorothy and John.

The SPD fraction had stayed, and Dorothy had expected this. She only hoped to hear nothing from them during the dinner now. And it worked, although Erhard Eppler was a subject to talk about at the Suwanay Table. Arthur said he was once called the leader of the peace movement. This had happened in the early eighties, above the heads of the different political groups who had joined together for a short time. Organizers around him, and later his party, published this in the media, claiming that there would never have been a movement without the SPD. »And this happened at the same time when the same SPD agreed to the »NATO Double-Track Decision« ... those bastards have only one thing in mind: »divide et impera!« In the same way, they used the political statements of the different groups to select those, that could be useful to create a new spirit of the time, similar to 1918, when the SPD abused the »November Revolution« for their state restructuring called »Republic«. And now, this Erhard Eppler was convinced, that Joschka Fisher’s call for entering the war in former Yugoslavia would harmonize the line of yesterday’s peace movement ... »because this was a different matter!«.« John compared this political behavior with another German politician, this time: Kanzler Adenauer from CDU, who once had damned everyone wanting to be a German soldier again and later only asked: »What cares my yesterday’s chatter?« Even Dorothy’s view about an EU parliament being nothing but a supermarket for special interests with less democratic aspects did not cause any reaction from the politicians in the corner. There was only a short look up as Suwanay San said something about human beings: »There’s only one kind of political coming up: you must be prepared to abuse any naivety of those who believe in the good in people. They betrayed Willy Brandt this way and do not even shy away from mentioning the names of Hannah Arendt, Bertrand Russell, or Martin Luther King for their camouflage!« ... the Japanese emperor did not make any mistakes in language, this time.

So, everyone felt safe, having a glass of champagne and listening to the words of Suwanay, who thanked them for being back at King Arthur’s Table Round again, and of course, Arthur claimed not to be a king: »I’m not even Parzival!« Elena was laughing: »You’re right: Rainer is Parzival! But what about Lohengrin?« – »I beg you: Lohengrin! Another question like this, and I go ... smoking! ... my dear Swan!« This dialogue had its consequences at the table, beginning with the giggling Debbie and Bob’s thunderous laughing. Arthur had not finished: »Now, she comes with Wagner ... If Wagner, I would prefer Tannhäuser ... but without singing!« Bob pretended a serious look: »A bard who can't sing ... Maybe this is the true story of Tannhäuser: could it be that he did not die as a result of the conflict between holy and profane love, but that he was murdered before he could drive people crazy again with his performances at the Wartburg?« »Of course!« interjected Debbie: »That can only have been the true background: a valid murder motive, obscured in content!« John summed up: »With good police work, the worst consequences for posterity could have been prevented. I mean: all this Wagner crap!« - »Yes, exactly!« added Pitter's wife: »I remember everyone singing at Wagner's Nibelungen before they were killed. Either someone liked no music at all, or the person was indeed musical and could only not stand this kind ... I would understand this!« After everyone in the group had finally commented on the subject of Wagner, it slowly leaked out at the politicians' table that »the island apes and the racing drivers are making fun of Richard Wagner!«, and Arthur wondered: »Why did it take them so long to figure it out?« The professional socialist got up and approached their Table. Bob remarked: »I think we're getting visitors ...!«

»Mr. Lombard, ... I assume that’s your name?« Arthur pretended to be a little surprised at the appearance of the Lady: »We already met today, my dear! What can I do for you?« The politician visibly took a breath: »Who do you think you are? I will not allow a Philistine and his friends to blaspheme our culture in this way, especially not an art of this level!« The alcohol had lowered the inhibition threshold of the parliamentarian, similar to nearly everyone present, including Arthur. He took another sip of beer, then looked the art lover directly in the face: »I assume that you are directing your protest to me because your English skills are not sufficient for the high level of your protest to my British friends! But perhaps you are still aware that the British attach great importance to the right of expressing their own opinions, whether seriously or ironically, and the same goes for our German friends!« The representative got the facial expression of an arrogant law enforcement officer from Dortmund Huckarde, which was even worse for Arthur than that of a ticket inspector from Ost Westfalen–Lippe: »However, I would like to remind you that you and your British friends are enjoying our hospitality, and I would ask you not to abuse this any further. You are not only making fun of one of the greatest composers, dramatists, writers, and theater directors, but also dragging a freedom fighter into the dirt! Richard Wagner was a revolutionary of 1848 and was persecuted for that!« Arthur listened with amusement but waited for the moment when even the worst big talkers had to take another breath. The moment seemed to have come: »Thank you for mentioning his versatility and especially his skills as a writer. I even read something by him: »Das Judenthum in der Musik«. The Wagner family always had an anti-Semitic tone; for generations, they regularly gathered international hate preachers such as Bernhard Förster, Houston Steward Chamberlain, Adolf Hitler, or Benito Mussolini in their exclusive circle. Daughter-in-law Winnifried, lamentably, a British woman from Hastings, even delivered the writing paper for Hitler's »Mein Kampf« to the arrest fortress and belonged to the Bayreuth Circle from the first moment when the poisonous plants finally bore fruit. Hitler loved the »Ring des Nibelungen«. He must have enjoyed this opera like a death-addicted visionary. Yes, I make fun of such people, and that's the most harmless thing you can do ... and one more thing, »Madam Honorable Member«: This house was booked by the Orchid Classics for the whole weekend. Your presence here and now is tolerated by us because the innkeepers have asked us to. But only so much on our part for Topic: Hospitality and its overuse!« Now Dorothy intervened: »And if you believe that Arthur is a Philistine and as such does not have the right to speak on behalf of a renowned restoration manufactory, I must inform you that this is not an AG, Limited or whatever, but a family business. In other words, the Philistine is »The Orchid Classics«!«

The tipsy politician no longer made a cheerful impression. Anger was written all over her face ... and there were plenty of reasons for this anger, most of all, she was not used to facing such a debate, even though she had been stupid enough to initiate it. She looked at the young woman who grinned cheekily at her, and was determined to exorcize her that grin: »Then you are probably King Arthur’s caretaker ... What are you doing for His Majesty else, how far does your caretaking go?« – »Don't worry, such rituals of a political career are foreign in our village, forgive me for answering on her behalf, but such conversations are below Dorothy's level! ... That means: her friends call her Dorothy, you can say: »Doctor Willow«, ... Now you know your way around us quite well, without having introduced yourself so far, but that doesn't matter: Your name doesn't interest us at all!« John's words had their effect: The name of his table neighbor had a relevant reputation among politicians. This one now looked directly into the face of the Witch of Brussels, all the others seemed to be no longer present for her, and she raised her voice again: »And if you book all of Adenau for a whole month: You are on the ground of the Democratic Federal Republic of Germany ... You are guests in our fatherland ... DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!« Pitter choked on his beer, and Suwanay shouted: »Fathelland! I'm vely implessed!« Töns looked around, embarrassed. Debbie hid her face on Bob's shoulder again and had a fit of giggles. She could even live it out to her heart's content because Bob kept quiet ... He did not move a bit and sat like a statue instead of losing his composure with laughter, which would have been expected under normal circumstances. But what he had to listen to here was essentially too serious for him! While he was caressing the beloved's hair, his eyes gazed at the woman who had provoked him in such an unusual way. Then his voice thundered through the room: »In our home, we don’t use the word »Fatherland«! That German label smells of »*Blood, Sweat, and Tears« (* Winston Churchill 1940)! We prefer to say: »Mother Country«! Kein Blut und Boden, DU VERSTEHEN?! So, stop talking about good behavior, and stop talking about all that shit from a thousand years!« – »Which shit do you mean?« – »A wrong question for a socialist! It should be: »Which a thousand years?«!«

It was finally done, and the politicians left the house. Their leaving was musically accompanied by Pitter and Töns singing an old Cologne carnival song: »Wir hamm’ den Kanal, wir hamm’ den Kanal, wir hamm’ den Kanal noch lange nicht voll! Wir sind wieder wer, Bert Brecht an der Wand, »Mein Kampf« hamm’ wir leider verbrannt (... we stand again tall, with the picture of Bertolt Brecht on the wall, we burned »Mein Kampf«, what a pity, that’s all)!«

Elena brought Albert's best regards into the round. She had just returned from Scotland, where she had visited him. Debbie was surprised that Elena was also in a close relationship with Albert, even though he had only adopted Arthur. Arthur's sister explained to her, »He didn't have to adopt me; he is my father. When Albert was stationed in Germany after the War, he met our mother. Arthur was already eight years old at the time. His father had made himself out of the dust after having been exposed as a spy.« - »A KGB-agent?« – »No, a Nazi who had claimed after the War that he had been a resistance fighter! However, he was then actually wanted as an Eastern agent. The resistance fighter whose code name he had given as his own had become a KGB killer in the Cold War! The false anti-fascist could not disappear to the East, where he had been suspected until the final exposure. Instead, he now lives in South America. Albert was involved in the investigation at the time and fell in love with our mother, whom he considered a harmless victim. She was probably able to play that perfectly at the time. She had a pronounced talent for deceiving those around her. If the situation called for it, she left no doubt that she was the most caring mother, the most lovable woman, and the most innocent person on earth. That's exactly what Albert fell for. It took quite a while for him to recognize her arrogant self-centeredness, her lust for domination, and her omnipresent resentment. He took her meanness and the contempt she soon showed him to be a normal sign that she no longer loved him, and so, he decided to leave, even though he still cared for us as well as possible. We grew up with her psychosis and experienced her contradictory behavior, which consisted alternately of overprotectiveness, hostility, rejection, and pampering. Her facial expressions often meant something else than her words and destroyed our childish basic trust. Since Arthur had red hair and was already wearing glasses when he started school, hell continued for him outside the home. That was the case in »Kohlenpott« and among children of the working class back then. Soon, the story of Arthur's father became known at school. The result was that neither classmates nor teachers liked my brother. Ten years later, and as a girl, I had a bit more luck, but socially handicapped we were both.« Arthur added: »The worst was the old Nazi teachers who tried to hide their past by despising a »Nazi-son«. Later, when I tried to free my mind, the same kind of folks called me a »Kommunistenschwein« ... The times had changed, they felt safe again, and so, the other half of my father’s story got abused. I had no choice but to skip school and leave everything behind me at the age of seventeen. The only thing I have to regret is, having left you alone with this mother, being a child of seven years.« Elena put her hand on Arthur’s shoulder: »In the end, we both survived having the same motto: »Something better than death you can find everywhere!« Arthur tried to change the theme: »Tell us something about fucking AWO ... You always used to say: »Working class welfare is something good as long as you are not a worker!« Elena laughed: »You’re telling my life story in one sentence! Being a nurse at this organization means discussing your job with people who have no idea, but call themselves managers, up to leading the departments. Sometimes I doubt if they can read and write at all. All they need is the right papers of union membership and a salary statement, on which is written that they are socially committed. All union members are employees, and the less privileged are workers ... working themselves to death and having no right to call in sick all the time or go on holidays whenever they want, even if there’s poor staffing. This way, the workers made an enormous amount of overtime hours last summer, and most of this overtime was simply canceled with the argument that it is not allowed to work so often and for such a long time. This was against workers’ rights! I asked the Works Council and got the answer: »You should have refused this abuse! Now, we can’t help you!« ... Some weeks later, they had the Works Council election. These gangsters knew that the workers would not come to vote; all of them received documents for a postal vote stating that their request had been granted. I called the Works Council and asked who had requested a postal vote in my name. They pressed around: something about mistakes and my right to complain ... Now, it comes: I should send my complaint to the same Works Council! But they promised: »We can separate this!« ... The next day, my colleagues asked me if they had to vote now. I said: »No!«, but some asked the manager the same, and she said: »Yes« ... She had been a member of the Works Council before she became a manager!«

Debbie was horrified: »That’s incredible! Why do you still work for these gangsters?« – »Because it is not incredible but German! It does not help to be a good worker but being relevant: knowing which ass to creep in, or which to kick! Being a nurse does not only mean having a job; it’s like living in the Ruhrgebiet and not wanting to leave it. It’s destiny! And I can’t sit at home and do nothing but possess half of Orchid Classics ...« – »You own half New Popplebush?!« – »Yes, and Arthur is the manager! Don’t worry, Parzival, no black money, you should know Dorothy! None of us is rich, we all have the same, that’s enough!« Arthur laughed: »And your manager needs a Doctor Dorothy Willow! All her deals get real with my signature!« Dorothy could not keep quiet now: »Do not think this to be as easy as it seems! Arthur’s social aspects belong to yesterday, and I have to fight with every institution for his imagination of a human community. Every now and often, I must demonstrate to the offices that they would get less money from us, and they even had to do social benefits on the other hand, if we behaved like any industry they are used to dealing with ... It would be easier to manage a Financial Shark than doing this crazy job! Arthur means that everyone who works for the Orchids has the right to be cared for by the Orchids. The employer manages every communal aspect, like the primary school, the use of home energy, and all staple foods. Even our newspaper is free for the workers. And Geordie installed a software for tax declaration, that Export Becky not only does for the manufactory but the employees as well ... And it’s me having to deal with officials because of all that benefit!!« Suwanay took his Queen into his arms: »So, what would you prefer, my dear? I think you love Arthur’s crazy engines!«

Sally knew that she had to learn about this actual world. She had only passed it by with the eyes of a child, getting told fairy tales ... No: with the eyes of a comic-book heroine, living in a fairy tale! More and more, she was taught a new lesson in real life: all the history she once had to study was not a dubious past but reality. They might use more human-sounding interpretations, but it was pure Machiavellianism: to create a semblance that leads to political success because things cannot be recognized by people, who already have a different imagination of things. She was convinced that this was worldwide but typically German. Hegel said: »History happens twice«, and Marx added: »one as tragedy and the other as farce«. The German influence on neighboring countries has always been significant, like the influence of the USA on the rest of the Western world. She remembered the lecture about the Weimar Republic, when the German Government had reacted to the London Ultimatum with rising inflation, causing the German people to suffer from hunger, and the state paid off its debts at the expense of all. This was the time of the pushers, who abused and ruined the German car industry with the same strategy of fraud, buying products and paying with bills of exchange. The London »Dawes Plan« of 1924 made things better ... for five years. Five years had been enough to remember the »Golden Twenties«, in which Europe lived on American credit! Next came the world economic crisis, and the USA needed the money back. So, many car factories had to unite for survival. After this, their leaders built a mighty cartel, supported the fascists, and took advantage of an inhuman system, forcing prisoners to produce weapons. And, when the fascists had gone, the cartel and its leaders had stayed because of being systemically relevant; they did not feel responsible for the death of six million Jews. Sometimes they were even helped unintentionally by those who stood for a new spirit of thinking and living: When Paul Celan 1952 read his poem: »Todesfuge« at »Gruppe 47«, he was criticized because of his style of reading ... Perhaps nobody wanted to say something to the content having the subject: »Der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland!«. Paul Celan had been introduced to this club of well-known authors by Ingeborg Bachmann, a writer who never made compromises. Nevertheless, she was viewed as a subject of style rather than authenticity, herself. Paul Celan died in 1970 ... on the 20th. of April, »Führers Geburtstag«. He died by suicide, and Ingeborg Bachmann lived some time longer, ... three and a half years, and her death was similarly tragic. Perhaps they both would have lived longer if they had harmonized the mainstream line of Günter Grass or even Marcel Reich-Ranicki, who still talked about the person Bachmann in TV shows but never mentioned her work: »This was murder!« Sally finished her thoughts by quoting Simone de Beauvoir ...

Sometime late in the evening, Dorothy and Arthur were sitting over a map showing the Eifel and Hunsrück. Arthur talked about the magnificent places that lined the Moselle between Trier and Koblenz. To the West, it went even further, the Saar or, to Luxembourg, or the French Vosges ... not even a week would be enough to explore the beauty of this area. Dorothy had ordered a bus for the next morning for a Moselle tour with wine and a boat trip. Of course, this announcement was received enthusiastically. It was a pity that the people from Eifel and Dortmund had to do their car racing; otherwise, she would have ordered a slightly larger vehicle. So, a bus from the early Fifties was big enough. Sally's supposed thugs came running and besieged their commander: »We want to go with you! Can you put in a good word for us? We will not be on duty until the group returns! Please, Captain!« Dorothy noted that in this case, there were two seats too few on the bus. Sally discussed something with Dorothy and Arthur, then she turned to the three: »Well, I'm driving with Arthur in the small car, you can go with the others ... on one condition: you will stop saying »Captain« from now on, and I don't want you to gossip about me on the bus!« – »Ma’am, yes Ma’am ...« The raised finger stopped them for a short moment ... »But we're still a team, ... Denise?«

The women's group did not want to give up their friendship with Sally, not because of the announced consequences in case of its termination, but this little person smelled of freedom and adventure! They had never met someone like her before. The three jumped for pleasure and behaved like children until ... until one of them became too cocky: »Is Arthur your lover, Denise?« This question suddenly attracted general attention. Arthur’s eyes caught the stern-looking face of Bob, and he got indignant: »Do you mean this?« Bob even looked more serious and answered: »No and never!« Then his laughter again filled the room and infected everyone else.#

»I wanted to be alone with you, ... we must talk again ... I need your help!« Denise was at the wheel of the Scimitar. Taffy had voluntarily given it. She would not have been so keen on it, because the small car was more comfortable to drive. But she couldn't tell this to this nice fellow. Arthur had naturally held the driver's door open for her and then took the passenger seat. He already knew that she was not familiar with this area, but everything was well signposted, and Cochem, the first destination, was not so far. That's why she had to get down to business quickly. Arthur felt uncomfortable. He couldn't imagine what he could do for the agent: »What am I supposed to tell you? I told you everything I know. Perhaps you should tell me something about your assignment instead. The old newspaper shows a photo of Denise, and you state that you are not this person. You have to look for her, or at least for the grandparents. The address should be the least of the problems, I assume it's on your fake ID ... Looking at your appearance and the background events with an unclear history, then my past is reflected for me, ... as if Thelma had traveled to another decade and has come back again, the same age as then. Even your profession is still the same. I hope you don't have to kill or kidnap anyone, this time.« Sally wondered if she should stop the car and open the second envelope here and now. It was in her bag on the back seat. Then she decided otherwise: »I don't know what to find out, maybe it's about my past. I wish to know how long this will go on. I'm facing the same phenomenon as you ... Tell me something about yourself, you should be the key figure in this whole, even if you don't know it yourself. At least I know now how you grew up ... I have great parents, the best in the world. But since I've been here, I wonder if they're my parents at all. If my boss is your Thelma, then I'm probably Sophie and therefore her daughter. But who is Denise? Arthur ... what do you mean? We are probably like fellow sufferers, so perhaps we can help each other. If you don't know anything, tell me what you feel!« – »Admittedly, I'm not a smart man, but if Denise is the daughter of Charlotte Schaffrath and you are the daughter of Thelma Moore, alias Charlotte Schaffrath, and you were born on the same day, then there are not many options.« She tried something new: »Do you like music?« – »There’s always music in my head!« – »What do you listen to at the time?« – »Harry Nilsson: Everybody’s talking (*Everybody’s Talking, Fred Neil 1966, Harry Nilsson 1968)« ... oh sorry, I don’t mean you!« – »Thank you, and this is important for understanding! I know this song from the picture »Midnight Cowboy (*Midnight Cowboy, 1969, John Schlesinger).« It’s the story of two men who became friends under special circumstances. In the end, one of them dies ... But in the other one, something dies too, at this moment.« - »... Yes, he had lost his dream of an easy living, his money, and finally his only friend on their way to a hoped-for better place.« - »I think the song harmonizes with this scene: it’s about dying and hoping for a new kind of life! ... Do you feel something has died in yourself?« She was frightened of having gone too far again, but she indeed got an answer: »You can call it a lack of personality, but I’m not thinking about dying as long as my problems have something to do with living. But you are right: I feel like being talked at, all the time, because of my unstable mind: everybody’s talking because everybody’s scared to lose their existence if I lose my mind. And I am trying to get out of this situation. The song is about changing to another place, and what I need is to be someone else to solve my problems. This wish might be unrealistic, but it’s the same with every other wish that does not come true.« Sally looked very impressed and concentrated even more on the road before them: »It's never a lack of personality, trying to solve your problems, even if it seems to be impossible ... It’s always Thelma, isn’t it? And who do you wish to be ... Andrew? He is dead!« – »Yes, he is dead ... but before that, he had a good life ... and he still has at least one wonderful daughter too! ... And the next question I can already answer too: I’m not in psychiatric treatment!« She laughed: »This had never been my next question: you’re not that sort for a psychiatric treatment, to tease out a diffuse self!« – »No! I already got my diffuse self!« Sally looked pensive: »At the moment I feel the same as you: ... having a diffuse self. Why are so many questions without an answer when we are getting adults?« – »Those kinds of questions have always been there ... hidden on a shelf! And if they try it by using a chair or even any more dangerous furniture, it causes the most horrible accidents.« – »What are the most horrible accidents?« – »Finding not only a question so early, but the answer too!« – Which horrible answer did you find?« - »I’m not used to getting answers to my questions, only a cruel hint: To be a zombie, stuck in a body and controlled by hormones causing the worst incidents and accidents.« - »What made you feel like a zombie?« - »I’m not talking about just me but mankind, anyway, female or male!« - »I never looked for questions when I was a child ...« – »Then your parents gave you everything at the right time to feel happy and not get bored!« – »Yes, they had let me visit a school for comic-book heroines, but they are not responsible for that ... it was me!« – »Perhaps they are comic-book heroes themselves and always protect you without getting recognized!« – »Surely not! I have never seen them vanish in a telephone booth for changing outfits ... and Mum has a complete room for her clothes, and she spends a lot of time there!« – »Ha, that’s her trick!«, Arthur had never thought to talk to someone else this way without feeling uncomfortable, and he only hoped this would not come afterward, when he was on his own again.#

The parking of Cochem lay just beneath the bridge over the Moselle, and the appearance of an old bus completed a romantic scene of an early morning in springtime. This was destroyed at the same moment when the doors opened, and a noisy group of young people occupied the place with their chatter and laughter. One of the youngest was accompanied by two ladies, each having taken one of his arms. He gently broke away from them to give a military message: »Ma’am, I lepolt: Evelything is completely undamaged, nobody’s homesick, Captain!« Arthur pointed, laughing, at Sally: »I tell you, you won’t get rid of it again!« Then, he explained why it went to the castle first: »Because on the way back to town, we pass the butcher's shop where they have the best ham roast on buns in the world, I hope we don't have any vegetarians with us, our breakfast has been pre-ordered!«

The next town to visit after Cochem was Trier. Everyone was impressed by this historic town, even by the wine shop with the historic Roman ship in front of it. Now, they looked forward to a tour on an excursion boat and having some more wine. But first, there was to go back in the direction of Cochem. They stopped at Bullay and its tiny bridge for the local traffic, but the railway on its top stage, leading to Alf on the other side of the river. Arthur told Sally that the Brooklyn Bridge in New York was only a cheap copy of this monument. Here, in this idyllic place, bicycles were handed out to everyone's surprise. Dorothy had meant that the boat trip, or any food or alcohol, had to be earned. And it went back to the direction from which they had come: via Zell, Traben-Trarbach, and Zeltingen-Rachtig to Bernkastel-Kues on the romantic Moselle cycle path along this beautiful river, passing the vineyards. And after a short time, given this great panorama, nobody had anything to complain about riding a bicycle: it was incredible! In between, of course, they took a break with coffee and waffles at the small ship café in Merl, a beer in the old train station next door, and in Zell itself, the first wine before lunch. The Zeller »Schwarze Katz« had a good reputation, but Arthur was able to convince Dorothy of the dry Pinot Gris and the red dry Pinot Noir. She then had a lengthy conversation with the winegrower family of the »Keltenhof«. Since no one crossed the line of good behavior, the next reward beckoned in the »Bistro« of Rachtig, in the middle of the meadow between the Moselle and the historic center. All these villages and small towns were full of good restaurants, cafés, and wine bars. Arthur advised them to come for holidays with their family for the grape harvest in late summer and autumn. If possible, they should book private accommodation and small guesthouses: »Although you will have to do without luxury, you would get something incomparable with all the modest equipment: »the family connection with great people who you really can't find everywhere in Germany. This is something like »Bed and Breakfast« in a landscape full of Dorothys.« Sally was sure that Arthur told the truth: the incomparable Moselle flair made the captain quite melancholic; when she tried to describe her impression, tears came to her eyes. It continued through the lavishly equipped natural landscape with a model railway character but without a railway. Here, there was once a so-called »Säuferbähnchen«. Now, they rode their bicycles on this old route. Many in the group had never seen anything like this, could not imagine it, and still could not believe it, as they had already reached the pearl of the Moselle: Bernkastel-Kues welcomed the international excursionists with all her beauty in the light of the afternoon sun. They presented themselves one last time as a bicycle troupe in front of Bob's SLR camera ... or was it Arthur’s camera? Nevertheless, it had a self-timer; then the bikes were handed over to the agreed bike rental, and the folks stormed Bernkastel in the Hunsrück. Kues, on the other hand, belongs to the Eifel. The Moselle River separates the Eifel and Hunsrück, and the cities, if they reach beyond the river. When they entered the ship, packed with numerous shopping bags, the evening was already clearly announced. The ladies were amazed and enthusiastic that they could shop for such excellent and extravagant fashion here, so far away from the metropolises, and this is not only the case in Bernkastel. Whether there was still anything left in the souvenir shops after their visit, nobody knew. The evening boat trip back to Zell was a highlight that could not have been better timed. The friends had fun with colorful lights and typical music, mainly about the Moselle and the wine. In any case, waltzes were played, keeping the ladies in mood until the end; that was an offer the boys could not refuse. And again, Suwanay San was a favorite. The aging thoroughbred gentleman enjoyed it because he loved nothing more than the scent of women. Dorothy was talking to Elena: »I can somehow understand by watching this all that you didn't come to England ... How beautiful it is here!« Elena laughed: »I don't come here that often. This is quite far from Recklinghausen. With us, there are probably also nice surroundings, but everything else is hectic and bad moods. No, that's something else that keeps me there ... Being a child of »Kohlenpott«! ... Even if you should get me out of Ruhrgebiet, you won't get Ruhrgebiet out of me!« The ship had comfortably completed most of its journey. Differences in the height of the water level also had to be overcome with lock rides; that was not uninteresting, but the return trip took much longer than it had taken by bike. That meant time enough to have fun. The view of the cultivation areas and settlements of the Moselle conveyed this fairytale mood once again at dusk.

In the meantime, the wine also had affected the ship's guests. Above all, it was the young temporary staff of the »Wild Sow« who, despite all good intentions, would probably not be able to do their job tonight without any help. Dorothy was already letting her friends in on a contingency plan for the house service, and Suwanay San was sure: »This will be funny ...« Arthur hadn't drunk anything, so Sally was very grateful to him for that because she certainly hadn't been able to drive since the afternoon. The Janis Joplin -copy hung on Taffy's neck: »Being to Moselle is the same thing with being to the A ... Ahr: If you have been there, a ... and ... Hihi ... and you still know that, Hicks! ... this means: ... you have ... have not been there at all!« Then she fell asleep on his shoulder.#

Sally didn't sleep in the car. She liked this route. Arthur drove through the Eifel jungle, past Bad Bertrich. He loved to drive through forests in the dark. It had something to do with another world, a fairy-tale world. He once again called himself stupid for this, not knowing that his passenger felt the same. Sally looked over at Arthur, whose face could only be seen by the contours in the dim light of the dashboard: »You still love Thelma, after all these years ... and you say I'm something like a kind of déjà vu ... Have you fallen in love with me too now?« The question came over kind of anxiously, and Arthur understood: »Of course! And head over heels! ... Just as one can somehow fall in love with the child of one's beloved ... that you want to hold in your arms and never let go. Don't worry, I won't hug you ... I'm a man, you never know what's going on, do you?« Sally pressed around a bit: »Could you perhaps ... stop somewhere?« Arthur turned onto the next forest path, and the car did not drive in there, but stopped now beside the road. Sally didn't get out to disappear behind a bush, as Arthur had suspected. She turned on the interior lights and turned to him: »I want to ask you something, I know that this can be misunderstood too, but I need this now: Please say to me: »My Child!« Arthur somehow understood, but still felt extremely uncomfortable: »My ... Mychild ...!« – »And now take me in your arms!« As Arthur did so, he repeated: »My Child!«

She did not know how long they had been sitting this way ... On the road again, she pulled a packet of tissues out, blew her nose, and, somewhat hesitantly, handed one to Arthur. Then she turned on the radio. A typical ARD song was to listen to: »Männer sind Schweine« ... She switched off again: »What is that?« Arthur commented dryly: »There you have it!« Now both laughed again. They laughed in tears.

The parking in front of the »Wildes Schwein« was reached. As they left the Scimitar, a group of young men passed by. One of them pounced on Arthur, pointed to his beret, grabbed him by both shoulders, and shouted to the amusement of the others: »Jong, du siehs jut aus, ... du siehs richtich jut aus!« Then they left, laughing. Arthur asked Sally what they wanted; they were wearing hats themselves, even Stetson's leather hats ... with silly rivet holes in them ... »It's idiotic to behave like that!« – »No, not idiotic: instinctive! They are a group, and you are alone ... and you have a woman with you, they don't.« – »You mean they think I'm the top dog they have to attack? Stupid instinct, so without conscious action ... There are such great instincts that could even make us human, but atrophy more and more!« – »I know what instinct you mean: the maternal instinct!« Arthur looked thoughtfully over at Sally as if he had noticed a slight irony: »Yes, you're right! It is older than any evolution, connects us to all nature, and is the grassroots of ethics. Not even Theodor Adorno would describe this term as »not identical« because every philosophy requires this love ... and the mother tongue.« Now it was her to look thoughtful: »Don’t believe in Goddesses on earth! If there’s any divinity, it has to be created by ourselves. We must try to become the humans that we are carrying inside and not hope for a God to do this for us!« Arthur was not satisfied with her statement: »And what about the Minoans? I mean ...« – »You mean the excavations at Knossos? ... The pictures of young artists playing together with a Taurus, men, and women differing by skin color, and a goddess holding some snakes in her fist? This interpretation is rooted in the twentieth century, and there are no human witnesses left from the Bronze Age. These finds relate to a place of religious rituals or an ancient but very modern-looking amusement park. And if you know little about the history of a place, you can interpret even more! Nobody knows how peaceful these six hundred years have been, and sometimes people love fairy tales too much!«#

Castling Queen’s Side

»Sleeping Beauty is a fairy tale, and there weren't three of them! Get up, folks! The ladies in the backseat!« – »Ma’am, yes Ma’am! ... Dorothy?!« – »We are home again! Change your outfits, and we begin setting the table!« – »... A bed in the stable?« – »Wake up, Taffy! We’re on duty and need your help to prepare dinner!«

The house management was absent this evening, and Dorothy took every advantage of this: The »Japanese Emperor« and the waiter cared for the drinks, and the rest were busy with tablecloths and dishes. Pitter and Töns burst into the hall together with their entourage; their children, respectively, along with any other familiar faces, waved with some trophies and were warmly congratulated. After a brief visit to the kitchen, Dorothy took care of six more dining place settings: for the handicapped waitresses, a sober waiter, and the kitchen staff. Dorothy did not blame the three girls. They did what they could, even if this was not so much at the moment. Somewhere outside in the dark, there was a conversation in two different German dialects. One sounded Bavarian. At the end of it, two trailers, now fixed to other cars, left the parking, and the British Queen was happy to receive another check and remarked that the Orchids would bring more money home than having spent this weekend. She was on an office job anyway. She had stepped in for a disabled receptionist who had worked perfectly before that, and even Rainer was impressed by the precise billings. Finally, it was possible to continue where they had begun, last night, this time without witnesses ...

Pitter's weekend mechanic said goodbye to the table a little earlier. On Sunday, he would have an appointment with the Proske Race director, who wanted to bring him into the planned Eifel team. Pitter wished his friend all the best, from the bottom of his heart, especially since he did not go to a competitor in the true sense. Nevertheless, he and his people were sad about the loss of »Zange«, and had gifts for him as a farewell.

After enjoying his meal, Arthur went outside to have his smoke. He thought that he had heard something like a whisper and looked around. There it was again: »Signore Lombard, psst!« Two figures appeared but vanished in the dark corner again. He looked around once more and approached slowly the backside of the house, not expecting anything good: »What the hell are you doing here? Is the Mafia after you?« – »Yes, maybe they too!« Gianna Cinquetti and Giacomo Pagani looked rushed: »Please help us, we are in fear of death!«

Now they were sitting at a small table in a corner of the kitchen. This was the next location to reach from outside without being witnessed by the guests. John had given the kitchen staff a sign to keep shut, and they had nodded. One of them brought something to eat for the Italians and smiled, not listening to Arthur’s talking: »And where did you hide Moretti?« - »This pig only abused us for his plan. Now he is the lawyer of Perrucchi and both of them got richer ... But that’s a different story.« Arthur got indignant: »A different story, but having the same Mafia in your neck? What does that mean to my folks, if you found them easily here, and the killers will find you?« Gianna was convinced: »They do not know how I found you: I called New Popplebush Watchpoint pretending to be a journalist to talk to Deborah Hastings. I got this location from there. I’m sure they are still searching for us in Italy and that nobody followed us: the public transport from Cologne is very complicated!« John felt not convinced: »Who exactly is after you?« Giacomo looked carefully around. Then he nearly whispered: »The Vatican!«

This was a surprising joke for Arthur. He imagined the face of Bob listening to this, and he could not refuse to laugh. Gianna looked as frustrated as the last time when they had met: »Being hunted by the Vatican means being hunted the same by Mafia and Police ... We did not know this ourselves before!« – »So, you found out the Pope has some sparrows sitting under his Mitra and now, he wants to get rid of you?« – »No! The subject is money laundering, kidnapping, and murder! Our mission was to investigate the circumstances of several crimes from the early Eighties that had never been solved, but were probably related. The boss of the Vatican Bank had been hanged below Black Friars Bridge in London; a secretary was thrown out of the office window in Rome. A Mafia Boss was shot on the open road, and they buried him in a basilica for members of the Vatican or Opus DEI. He had been a specialist in laundering money, and he was suspected of involvement in kidnappings, too. All the murders had different patterns and suggested different families. It’s a puzzle that matches Pope Johannes Paul II, also known as Karol Wojtyla, and the demise of the Warsaw Pact. Everything indicates that the Holy Father financed the Solidarnosc Revolution in Poland using the money that ought to have been laundered for the Mafia, but was never given back afterward. As all attempts at blackmail failed, the defrauded families killed their negotiators as traitors ... our organization sent us to Rome with all the information about the circumstances. Our mission was to find any evidence that had not been blurred by the CIA, the main organizer of all this hell; now, we should meet the former policeman who had once made the phantom picture of a kidnapper, which had never been published, but was found in a file by us. But the contacts we had painstakingly made with the police and some lawyers suddenly froze. Then our car was blown up before our eyes. We even did it ourselves, using the radio key which I had operated from afar in a large parking lot to recognize our car in the crowd by the light signal. The bomber had connected the electronic opening but had probably assumed that we operated the automatic via the driver's door lock. Very few cars of this type have a radio key, but some do; this was probably not a particularly professional assassination ... This had been the cops! We even wanted to go directly to the police, but were pulled into an alley by a contact person. There, we learned that we were already searched for as bank robbers by the police.« John had listened very carefully: »What about your organization?« – »They cannot help us without betraying themselves. Most of them work officially for their nations, and the nations do not tolerate any whistleblowers. Officials have to function and not think about what’s right. Corruption, on the other hand, does not matter: it means not to ask, what’s wrong or right!« John did not like himself saying this, but it had to be: »Of course, we want to help you, but first, we must find a way to trust you ... We don’t help bank robbers!« Gianna and Giacomo looked very sad, and even Arthur was oblivious to his sympathy for police officers at this moment. He left and returned later, laying a key down on the table: »This is for an extra room, directly below the roof ... when we go into the main entrance again, you hide behind us, take the left door, and go upstairs! Did you check in anywhere?« – »Yes, a small guesthouse at Barweiler, then we took the bus.« – »OK: I'll bring you up there in the early morning. After checking out, wait for us at the next bus stop!« John was taken by surprise: »Arthur, what are you doing ... And who gave you the key to that room?« – »I told Karolin that I need another room to sleep in because my neighbors are doing it wild, all night long!« – »Hey, we are your neighbors! Did you say anything else?« - »Yes, because I needed the key for the girls’ car!«

In the guest room, Dorothy asked Eveline: »Do I have anything on my face ... perhaps spaghetti? The girls look at me so strangely and giggle behind my back!«#

John watched the Opel leave at 5:30 am. The streets were empty of cars and people; the signpost to Barweiler directed left, but Arthur turned right ... this was ridiculous! He took his queen into his arms: »Don’t worry, love! He is not crazy ... he is stupid!« – »And does this make things better?« – »Perhaps this is better to handle if things get clear; we must wait!«

When Arthur returned, he was joined by Dorothy and John: »Would you please tell us your strategy? It looks very complicated!« – »This has to be because things will get even more complicated if we don’t do something now! If you know something better, I will be with you!« – »Arthur! Did you ever think about being abused? We must know the truth first!« – »There will be a truth at the end, and the question is if you will like it!« – »And why didn’t you bring them with you now?« - »Because everything has to look as usual: they will have their breakfast in Barweiler, they will not forget anything private in their room, and they will check out just as usual. Housekeepers can get an excellent memory if something unusual happens!« – »And if things go wrong, if usual or unusual?« – »That’s what I’m working on!« ...

Before they had breakfast, John tried to intercept Suwanay, as he was coming down just talking to »Denise« ... Arthur, however, was faster. Now, it was John's turn, but instead of him, the emperor smiled: »That’s interesting, isn’t it?«#

»Mah’et juut, Hätzbrenner!« Pitter's last words, accompanied by a pat on the back, ended the reunion after many years with his old friends. Arthur processed all this with mixed feelings: These people belonged to his past, which he was only aware of in fragments. A past that could not have been very glorious for him, and had many memory gaps. He didn't know how to explain to himself why he couldn't remember that time properly ... But now it was time for him anyway! He felt in a hurry and was convinced that something was brewing. He couldn't explain this feeling either. Dorothy and John watched, embarrassed, as Arthur exaggerated without seeing the problem, in its complex entirety, and he even included these wild girls from the Inn in his battle planning for any emergencies. The worst picture was Suwanay San’s secret smile: Did the emperor want to make fun of him? As John tried to slow Arthur down, he only received the answer: »We have to know what to do if things get dangerous; they won't give us a second chance!« Now he notated locations and key points, made sketches, and distributed tasks. Dorothy’s doubts were ignored. What not was ignored by anyone was the message coming from out of the kitchen, although, the radio was not set loudly: ... »And now Interpol is asking for your attention: after a bank robbery in Italian Rome, the suspected couple Gianna Cinquetti and Giacomo Pagani on their flight, have been seen in the Northwestern part of Europe. It is assumed that they are in the Cologne Area. They belong to an as yet unknown terrorist group, are armed, and are considered unpredictable and dangerous!« Next was the description of the persons, the usual warning, and the usual information about the usual receipt of information. Dorothy was horrified: »John, what shall we do now?!«

Arthur did not think about this question; he had not been addressed, anyway. He seemed not to function at all, especially to think ... Suwanay’s hand, touching his shoulder, made him work again: »Folks, off we go! ... Barweiler!« – »Here!« Debbie and Bob jumped up. –: »And off with you! ... Nordschleife!« – »Here!« Bill picked up the key from Taffy and followed Janis Joplin to the Scimitar outside. – »Taxi!« – »Yes, Sirr!« Suwanay San, along with the chauffeur, got up, and the second waitress threw away her apron and left the house with them and Sally. – »Escort protection!« The third weekend assistant hurried with Rainer to the TR6. - »What remains: Quiddelbach!« Taffy laughed: »That's just Elena, Gordon, and the two of us, or is there someone missing?!« John could not believe his eyes and ears: »What is this supposed to be? Why this division?« – »In each car, at least one person with local knowledge, the deficit of Debbie and Bob will be balanced later, and the focus will be on women's logistics! You are too educated to understand state-organized crime at the grassroots, sorry!« Now it became too colorful for John: »And what exactly are we too educated for?!« Arthur: »Wenn das Jagdhorn schallt, dann fühlen sich die Jäger!« John: »Ah, Hölderlin!« Arthur: »No, that means: Halali! In Germany, you don't need a yodeling diploma for that!« – »And why the escort car?« – »They shall come back and report if things went wrong! You'd better stay here: in the end, we might need your wisdom ... to get us out of jail ... And don’t forget: we are in another country!« The surprised waiter repeated: »In Another Country ... That’s Hemingway: »The world breaks everyone, and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break, it kills!« John took Dorothy into his arms and reacted: »This is from: »A Farewell to Arms«! There is a difference between »In einem anderen Land« and »In Another Country« ... at least in the case of German-translated Hemingway stories!« – »And what does it mean: »women’s logistics« in the case of Hemingway?« – »That wasn’t Hemingway, that was originally Arthur Lombard ... perhaps he means women’s logic ...« That was too much! Dorothy pulled herself away from John and pointed at her forehead. Bill's wife returned the glances of the two: »Yes, I have the car keys from the Jaguar, no, we don't drive behind. You can't run after a flock of flies, and someone has indeed to get them out of jail if it goes wrong ... let’s help in the kitchen, they need some staff members there because of three missing girls!« John was allowed to comfort Dorothy again, who verbally processed her last Impressions: »Getting them out of jail ... if only nothing worse happens to them!«#

The little guesthouse stood next to a gasoline station, visited by two customers. A car stopped between the buildings, and a young woman got out and rushed into the entrance. She knew the two people standing in front of the counter and waved shortly: »Taxi nach Frankfurt, wir sind spät dran!« The couple hesitated for a moment, maybe because of their broken German ...

Debbie and Gianna hugged each other, and the small vehicle started....Bob was curious: »Did you listen to the radio?« – »Yes, and the hotel clerk behaved some conspicuous, ... as conspicuous as your car!« Debbie laughed: »Don’t worry, that’s the plan!«#

Near the Nürburgring entrance, there was little traffic ... but more in the parking. Luggage was transferred from a smaller car to a black limousine. Some people stood around. Then the shooting brake version of an old English sports car left the T4 parking in the direction of L93. Entering the entrance for tourist drivers, it was dangerously obstructed by a British roadster. The driver had just started from the roadside and crossed their way, not raising a hand to apologize, but demonstrating the middle finger in response to honking because this is normal in Germany. The older Reliant had a British number plate and was occupied by four people, and a loud conversation came from the couple sitting in the back. This was amusing to listen to from the outside because their slang only sounded like a kind of English. The two marshals standing at the racetrack entrance were unsure if those young people came from Wales or Scotland, but they agreed that English-speaking French or Italians could be better understood. The large black limousine appeared again and followed L93 to Adenau. Inside, the chauffeur listened to a police siren and watched in the back mirror an ugly blue-lighted car speeding on the B 258 direction Meuspath.#

The police car stood in front of the New Popplebush press car. The officers, a woman and a man, held out their pistol muzzles against the screaming women: »Lie on the ground!« – »Sofort auf den Boden!« The executioners carried out the entire rehearsed threat program, which was similar to that of a violent crime, and by their official outfit, should have an amplifying effect on civilian perceptions. Nevertheless, there was no desired reaction: »They’re going to kill us, those fascists are going to kill a mother and her baby, help!« – »Don’t shoot, we are no piano players!« - »This is my only white blazer and I won’t ruin it now!« Sally hoped for a lack of English skills among the uniformed people, but she couldn't resist the little fun, although she risked making her accomplices laugh instead of complaining. Debbie held the pillow under her sweater with both hands: »Can’t you see I’m pregnant?« The officers looked at each other: »(synchronized text) That's a cheap trick, leave the gun raised!« – »And who of the four are the two men?« – »Why: »Two men«, we are looking for a man and a woman!« – »Ok: I'll say it differently: count once again and tell me the trick!« – »I don't know yet, I don't know the trick!« The man lowered the gun and made a soothing hand gesture to Debbie: »Not worry, wir sind Police!« – »Oh my God, he’s coming, he’s coming! Don’t shoot, Mister Sturmbannführer, I am pregnant!« The »Polizei Obermeisterin« now approached with two photo enlargements but did not get too close to the whining Debbie, instead holding them into Janis Joplin’s view from an unusual Distance. On the enlargements, Gianna and Giacomo could be seen in uniforms. The official explained: » These sind Terroristen, have you them gesehen?« The reaction was irresponsible and dangerous, but Janis Joplin also put her friends to the test: »Terrorist?! They have uniforms ... you are a terrorist! HELP! ... POLICE! Arabian terrorists! Don’t shoot! We are not Israelis!« The officers were confused: »No, no! We are not terrorists! These people are terrorists!« This prompted Sally to go one better: She approached the policeman with a serious expression and presented her original passport: »You can kill me; I am a Jew ... let the others go! Read my name and nationality: Sarah Rubenstein, USA! Now then: pull the trigger, Mister Bin Laden!« If not to burst with laughter, the other three began to whine louder, and Debbie held the pillow and bent forward. The policewoman panicked: »Do you need a ... sickness car ... I mean a car for health ... eh ... damage ...« Debbie looked up: »No, thank you, our car is already damaged, and we don’t need another rust bucket!« The so-called »Bin Laden« tried to defend himself against the accusation: »Yes, bin geladen ... aber gesichert, look!« He presented his pistol and pointed to its safety catch: »I’m not a terrorist, I show my Dienstausweis!« His colleague reacted in horror, and the following conversation is synchronized again: »Stop that! What are you doing?« – »It’s only to calm them down ... and it’s a little funny too!« – »That’s not funny at all, and we leave now!« – »So, we leave? ... and the suspect car?« – »There’s a gasoline station next to the guesthouse; the landlady mistook the cars ... or do you recognize an Italian couple?« – »Oh, suddenly ... and the trick?!« – »If you don’t come with me, I'll drive alone, Achmed!« The police car started into new adventures, and the girls waved farewell ... »What’s a Bin Laden, Captain Sally?« The question did not come from the students but from Debbie! – »Don’t you read newspapers? ... He is a former Arabian CIA member. They say he changed sides later, but I doubt if he ever had changed sides ... not even to the CIA! He once helped them throw the Russians out of Afghanistan, and now he wants to have the CIA get out of the Islamic countries ... It’s always the same story, not only in Africa or the West of Asia, look at Indochina!« Sally was glad that she had already revealed her identity, and they no longer doubted it after this action. Before they entered the car, the expected question finally came, ... writing newspapers and reading them was a big difference, at least in the case of Debbie: »What does »Indochina« mean? – »A French colony before it got the name »Vietnam«! The Americans gave weapons and money to Ho Chi Minh first, for fighting the Vichy government of France and the Japanese invaders.« – »Ho Chi Minh, that gangster?« – »No, that fighter for freedom! Later, they called him a gangster when America supported the allied partner to conquer this half island again in 1954!« – »Which allied partner?« – »France!« – »Eh ...« – » I'll explain this later, we are on duty now!« – »You’re kidding me, don’t you? And next, you tell me that Mao Zedong is a greengrocer in Chinatown!« – »In principle: Yes! But he was rather a farmer than a grocer and not in Chinatown but in Shaoshan in the province of Huan ... And forget the explanation, ask anyone else if you want!« – »Last question: Are you sure that you are working for the CIA?«#

The policeman at the roadblock approached the supposed driver's side of the Rolls and looked through the lowered window, first astonished at the empty seat and then over to the chauffeur whose expressionless face called out to him: »Moin!« After a while, the uniformed man ordered him to open the dark coloured side windows of the fund. There he watched another expensively dressed Asian, on whose neck hung a blonde who could easily be his granddaughter, looking provocatively and blowing gum bubbles. This may have been common in special circles, but it was no ordinary sight for a common officer. The Japanese flag on the hat shelf behind the back seats probably fit into the standard-bearer of the front fender, and the voice that now thundered towards him most likely suited a diplomat: »How dale you!« The officer did not understand, but had a clue. However, the Asian preceded him: »If I had meant what you think now, I would have explessed myself diffelent: Daewoo is a Colean and belongs to Genelal Motols ... and you should belong to the back office staff ... fol the next thilty yeals!« The distraught official gave the way and saluted: »Solly, Sil!«#

The crew of the police car returned the passports and had a friendly conversation with the only woman in the group. She was also the only German and the only one wearing a Florentine Hat: »Are you some kind of tourist guide for the British?« Elena laughed refreshingly: »Yes, you could say that. I was hired by an English classic car company.« – »Ah, that's why the old Opel!« Now, Elena laughed in amusement: »It belongs to the waitress from the Wild Boar!« – »Of course! I have seen this rust bucket before! Whose cart is that, Karolina’s or Larissa’s?« – »I don't know, I talked to three girls, do you want to see the car papers?« Elena congratulated herself: she had the cops in the bag! – »Do you have any plans for tonight?« Elena pointed with a frustrated wave of her hand in the direction of the three British fellows who tried to look as silly as possible. »Well, then, I hope for you that you can hold your liquor and take care of yourself!« – »I'm a professional in this case! When they go to bed, it's to sleep off their intoxication!« The cops said goodbye in a friendly way, although not without a tip: »You should not park the car here behind the bushes if you want to go for a walk today. This creates mistrust. Drive up to the marshal's car parking! It is never occupied during tourist driving on the Ring. Then nobody thinks you're Terrorists!« – »Why terrorists, ... My god! Did something happen? ... Are you searching for someone?« – »Yes, we are looking for someone, but don't worry, that's probably a false alarm! Goodbye, Lady!« He had probably found the »Lady« funny, at least he was still laughing when he pulled up his foot to get in his car.#

Even though Bill had pulled elegantly through the curves of Hatzenbach and Hocheichen right from the start, he now ensured that the following vehicles drove past their convoy one after the other. He also took the downhill to Quiddelbach rather calmly. Gianna was very grateful to him: »With you, I feel safe here and now!« Bill replied: »Because of driving too fast, the pigs won't catch us!« – »You don't like cops?!« – »No! ... Do you like them? They might kill you today, ... and that's just because others want it that way! What do criminals do differently, except for making their own decisions about their actions? For innocent people being hunted, there is no difference between the Gestapo, the StaSi, or any other vassals of violence. And even if those officials are looking for motives for a crime, they expect more character of a perpetrator than of themselves.«

Rainer did the same as Bill: he switched the Hazard lights on and rolled the last few meters to the marshal’s point. Once there, it went incomparably fast: two people left Bill’s car and two people entered it. When Gianna and Giacomo joined the remaining Opel crew, they had changed their weather clothes with Taffy and Elena, and Gianna took care of her new hat before occupying the driver’s seat of the Ascona next to Arthur, who advised on the direction. Giacomo was impressed by Arthur’s management: »Someone like you, we had needed against Perrucchi! You never trusted Moretti, and you have been right!« Arthur had his eyes everywhere. The road felt extremely long, but he was even glad to be distracted: »It’s not over yet, and if we want to be heroes, we have to die or to be successful ... But you never would have asked me for strategic help in Italy anyway, nobody would do this! I'm not a strategist either, even if it works. In quantum theory, one would say that the molecules were unusually favorably stored, this time. Gordon proposed to freeze Arthur's molecules in this state, ... they had passed the police car standing next to a bakery and two policemen waving to a Florentine Hat.#

The four ladies were on the longest trip. Not that they had been stopped again, on the contrary: the motorcycle policeman, with his one-man roadblock on the L92, which also leads back to Adenau, waved the car through without watching any of the passports that were held out the left and right of the car windows, as their car was coming down the serpentine. Nevertheless, Karolin had stopped briefly to cheer up the uniformed man a bit. Now he looked thoughtfully after the gang: »Fucking job?! ... Of course, I have a fucking job, I know that myself ... and the bitches speak also German fluently!« After a while, he wondered if he should follow them on the bike, but he had been informed about what the two from Ahrweiler had experienced ... the head office had made such hints. No, he wanted a quiet Sunday duty, and the bank robbers might be everywhere, but certainly not here. What should they have wanted in Adenau, ... or even come from there?!

When the »bitches« arrived at Adenau, they checked the situation around the hotel first: the Opel stood at its place behind the staff entrance, and the Rolls was decorated with a pennant. Sally was glad but not satisfied: she had to react immediately ... A police car came towards them and passed. Sally shot it through her head in a flash: »Karo, stop and turn the car!« – »Are you crazy? ... Not again, even if it was fun!« – »Stop, I'll explain: the more cops have their experiences with us now, the less trouble our whole group, including the Italians, will have on the way home!« Karolin warned Sally: »But that's something else now, these cops know us, and one of them is called Edgar Bongens. He was Denise's schoolmate ... He once talked about it in the pub. He will certainly notice that you are not her.« - »Schoolmate ... Do you know anything about them? Quick!« – »Uh, ... they once stole apples from the old Schmitz as children, he told that too!« The car stopped as the police vehicle met them again, stopping too. Sally stepped out and approached the policeman: »Edgar, do all Schutzmann! Hässte hück övverhaup scho watt jedonn? Wenn de Kopp nit zum Jängster kütt, dann muss ebbes der Jängster zum Kopp!« – »Denise? Wie siehste denn bloß aus, isch hättisch nit erkannt!« – »Isch komm jrad aus Amiland, war noch jaarnit ze Huus!« – »Ävver de Polizei hältste schon auf Trapp, hammse jesaacht ...« - »Isch muss deer wat zeijen!« Sally presented her ID cards, and the officer tried to understand: »Your passport? I know who you are, Denise!« - »Read the other one, but silently!« The cop began to murmur first, but increased his voice: »Captain SARAH RUBENSTEIN, C I A?« She pointed with her forefinger to her lips, and Edgar whispered: »cia? ... your code name?« He was stopped talking by her stomping on the ground and now took on something like an attitude: »What’s going on here... Captain?« He had tried to whisper, but her face told him that it was still loud. She took away the passports from his hand and only said: »Follow us, please, Gentlemen!« Sally's grip on the taboo envelope had paid off, even though she hadn't read the enclosed text yet. Now, she took the steering wheel and informed her passengers why they still had the cops behind them.

Sally parked the newspaper car and managed to get the police car to stop in the middle of the place. Her only answer to the curious faces of two cops was her finger pointing to a black Rolls-Royce and a standard bearer, bearing the Japanese flag. The emperor appeared, nodded, smiled at the ladies, and approached the officers to shake hands and talk to them in Japanese. Now, he made a step back, one hand covering his face for a moment, and then smiling again. Demonstratively, the chauffeur removed the Japanese flag, smiling too. Sally’s translation was not necessary but supporting: »Yesterday there was a meeting between ...« – »Between this diplomat and two members of the Rhineland Pfalz-Parliament!« ... Edgar finished her sentence: »But this meeting never has taken place ... as same as a demonstration at the entrance of Nordschleife ... we can combine the last official and unofficial news ourselves!« Sally was gladly surprised but pretended to be shocked: »And what is the official news?« – »That there was no demonstration at Hatzenbach, that’s the instruction! But Adenau is small, you should know this!« – »You mean: you two are the only officials who know everything else, now?« Edgar looked friendly at the agent: »... And perhaps the only officials who know about your last trick, Captain, and you and your friends must be the last ones who witnessed the bank robbers leaving Barweiler ... Can you tell me something about that?« Sally hid her euphoria; things could not have come better: »I watched a Taxi leaving the gasoline station ... but Edgar ... I must be honest with you: I’m not...« Edgar got pale: »You’re not an agent?!« – »Yes, of course I’m an agent! But ... I’m not Denise Schaffrath ... Sarah Rubenstein is not a code name! You must know this in case of meeting her.«

Edgar Bongens looked around and gave his comment from his view: »Let’s count together, Captain: No politicians, no demonstration, no Japanese diplomat, perhaps no bank robbers and no local heroine protecting the interests of the USA ... What happens, if those busy folks have finished checking out, and packing everything into their cars ... Do they step in, close the doors, and burst like soap bubbles together with you and the cloned waitresses, leaving behind two crazy cops suffering from the same psychosis? Will the original people appear again and have no idea?« She was in fear of losing control, even her self-control, because this man had brought all her problems to the point. She could not hide some tears: »I know, this must be ridiculous for you, ... but I cannot even explain it to myself. First, I believed, they sent me because of my Japanese knowledge and not to double a woman who might have no idea, ... I can only ask you to believe me: All this mess is not for doing anybody any harm!« The cop looked into her face, and that took some time. Finally, he began: »I believe you ... Not because of your tears, but because you cannot be Denise. I’m sure, she is not able to play someone else; she never had a friendly word for me, and above all: She never called me Edgar!« – »And the apples from old Schmitz?« – »Hark! You studied your role, why did you change your strategy? ... the simple fact was: I liked her, and she liked apples!«

The cops from Adenau had understood well: they should escort a group of foreign cars through a landscape of officers acting like startled chickens. Before Edgar stepped into the car, he turned around once again: »Aall Tünn!« ... that’s what she called me!«

Arthur and Sally had been left in the parking lot, waving farewell. Sally still seemed moved: »Those cops are nice chaps!« – »Yes, you took the Mickey out of them!« Arthur was only glad that this was finally over, and he knew it was she who had rescued the Italians. She was the captain, but he was called »The General« now. That was not okay ... Sally smiled: »Being a fool is not too bad! Sometimes you have to risk being a fool to become a better human ... that’s by Epictetus!« – »Your Epictetus doesn’t know everything! There are too many options for making a fool out of oneself without becoming a better human ... By the way: this fool has to leave now ... I’m taking the bus to the next train station at Ahrbrück; you can keep Debbie’s car for your further investigation.« Sally behaved like a child: »I ... I don’t know if I want to investigate ...« – »I’m sure you want! ... And I’m scared as same as you! ... I will come back on Monday, maybe with a new classic car; leave me a message if you check out earlier!« - »Where do you have to go?« – »Bielefeld!« – »Bielefeld?! This is no town but a code: You better tell me the truth now!«#

Edgar’s colleague looked into the back mirror: » To be or not to be, they are still behind us ... I can only see the driver, anything behind him is closed by a dark screen.« – »I promise, you don’t want to see it anyway ... it’s only destiny making fun of us!« »What do you mean: something like a mystery power?« – »Yes: mystery ... as long as we don’t understand or even know. What do we have: The government of Rhineland-Pfalz ... that’s the power; ... a Japanese diplomat and perhaps investor: that’s the money; the little lady from the CIA, and her folks ... this is something between protection and violence; the so-called bank robbers made the show, and we are the fools ... if you count everything together, we had witnessed a historic moment of world-power in a confined space ...« – »But who plays a crime to blur a secret meeting, and why do you believe this story that got told by a crazy racer gone even crazier ... Because of her mother is an American biologist and cloning her CIA agents? ... Just a moment ... That’s’ not possible, is it?« – »I don’t know what is possible or not: That woman is no crazy racer delivering gyros on workdays, but a real captain!« - »A mystery captain!!« - »The area between the Eifel and Taunus will always be a mystical stomping ground for the Western Powers and their enemies ... I think, we are through, let’s wave and turn home again!«#

The doorbell rang, and Waltraut Schaffrath opened happily: the silhouette of the person behind the frosted glass pane was unmistakable: »There you are, my darling! Did you forget your key? Hey, what do you look like, do they wear that ...« The flood of words suddenly stopped. The woman with the colorful apron added, »... in California?« Then she held one hand over her mouth, the other still holding the doorknob. She remained standing there as if rooted, sobbing ... When she had finally fought her way out of the paralytic state, she spontaneously took Sally in her arms: »Sophie!« Wassily Valaitis had become curious about the strange sounds. Coming up the stairs from the basement, he found two people hugging in the hallway. Now there were three.#

Edgar Bongens had tried several search engines to find out something about the biotechnical processes of cloning. He found something about »Parthenogenesis«, but it was about animals, in English, and hard to understand anyway. The next subject was »Charlotte Schaffrath« and »Thelma Moore«, but both seemed to be unknown on the web. Everything he could find was something about them in an excerpt of the newspaper article about Denise. »Datt janze Computerjedöns« was more or less »Kacke!«, but he knew where to search the next morning: in his own office!. He switched off the PC and followed his wife to bed. Before lying down, he had to gently push his little daughter into the middle to have some space for himself. Now, he felt happy again. He was tired, even though it was an early evening. It should be a long night and a short sleep for him.#

Tragedy and Farce

After a long ride on the bus, Arthur got off at the train station. Ahrbrück and the nearby Altenahr belonged to the north end of the Eifel, next to »Nordrhein-Westfalen«. That did not matter because the people were the same kind as those from the rest of this lovely landscape. In former years, riding on the train straight from Adenau had been possible; the next station from here was now Bonn, in the east. From Bonn, it went to Cologne. This town loved to act like the »real Rhineland«, but for Arthur, this place was motivated by a typical Prussian spirit as long as there wasn’t »Fastelovent«. This Prussian spirit was coming from every local government, and even got worse on the way to the east and northeast from the Rhine. And there was no difference between Westfalen and »Niedersachsen«. The train had left Rhineland at getting dark, and Arthur gazed at the shadows of Ruhrgebiet, getting sad. He remembered George Sand: »There’s no happiness in life but to love and be loved« ... Yes, he had loved this landscape of dirt and beauty, and he still loved the remaining chimneys, old workers’ colonies, and farms, belonging to the south of »Münsterland«. He had been born there, and this would probably be confirmed by the office of Waltrop or perhaps by some other people, but without any human emotion. At seventeen, he had changed to Bielefeld ... much too young for standing on his own feet, but it had worked. He had a job and a room for students. Later, some of those students became his friends ... or better: something similar to »Friends«; they finally built a commune and fought against atomic power and for peace; somehow this was curious ... he remembered something having read in the Playboy Magazine: »Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity« ... and a German »Bundespräsident« had said something like »There´s no way to peace but the peace« in his famous speech ... this word had been created by someone else, but this author’s name had been »Weizsäcker« either. At that time, the police were omnipresent, watching the people. The more complaints and warnings a police officer wrote, the sooner he was promoted. This was corrupt enough, but nothing against the motivated fantasy of officials, checking as often as they could old VW-Beetles, VW-vans, or Citroen 2CV, above all, if those vehicles had stickers like: »Atomkraft ...? Nein Danke!« Arthur’s first car had the same stickers but was only once stopped. The cops were interested in this cute British sports car and could not imagine why they did not have the right to stop it for this reason ... Several times they had even loved to visit Arthur’s commune and watch the young people dancing through the house, and singing: »Jupp heidi, jupp heida: Hausdurchsuchung, Razzia!« ... At last, after the officials got invited for a cup of tea, they used to leave the house because of not being corrupt ...

Arthur left the train and took the next hotel. After this, he walked to Jahnplatz, looking for something he perhaps still could remember. A police squad car sped along, chasing everyone aside with its noisy light show. They rushed to have their end of duty, and so, they took the pedestrian zone. Neglecting the red light, they used the pedestrian crossing of Alfred Bozi-Strasse and Oberntorwall, turned left to the shortest way to their headquarters, and switched off the siren and the lights. Arthur took his way back. He had looked for something he could still remember, and he had found it. It was not necessary to look into Wittekindstrasse, where there had been the commune ... not far away from the discotheque »Badewanne«; he even tried not to think about it ... It was still hurting too much. In his head, there was music again, Harvey Andrews sang »Requiem«.#

His eyes still gazed at the picture on the wall opposite his bed. It was not a painting but a sketch. The sketch of »Sparrenburg«. That reminded him of the many spiteful letters coming from the public order office. They had been stamped with a small version of this sketch and the index: »Bielefeld, the friendly town at the foot of the Teutoburg Forest« ... He had breakfast and made his way to Berliner Platz, which was called »Willy Brandt Platz«. Strictly speaking, it received the name in 1992, the year of Willy's death. Arthur could not believe the damned »Sozis« admiring this, for him, the only person among the chancellors. Why should they have betrayed his visionary actions if they revered him so much? »People, if they stand upright, are only historically highly regarded«. Konstantin Wecker's sentence (song, Die weiße Rose 1982) had its meaning even in this case. From the square, he walked into Feilenstraße, as if looking for something: it was still there, the good old »Kamera«! The small cinema had fascinated him even then. It hadn't changed from the outside, still looking as if it was getting old; an artwork itself, presenting cinematic art. Arthur tore himself away and made a detour via the Zimmerstraße, with the destination: pedestrian zone, on to the underground station at Jahnplatz. He did not know that it would have been easier to enter the underground train directly beneath Hauptbahnhof because there had been no subway train at that time. He wanted to take a look at Karstadt's shop, and after opening the entrance door, he made a step back to let a young woman pass, and let her enter first. This was a mistake: she laughed and made fun of him because of that. Finally, she called him a dirty macho ... Leaving the shop, he was stopped by a group of young people. A girl walked up to him: »How do you manage your happiness?« He looked up at the banner, and read »Jesus is Your Happiness!« After receiving twenty Deutschmarks from Arthur, she was happy. So, he arrived at the Underground stop, went down the stairs, and entered the direction »Sieker«. To his surprise, the train started in the dark, and left the tube immediately to drive further overground like it used to be more than twenty years before: »Stand upside down, and you see the world as it is« ... whoever that said! OK: according to Hegel, the world does not work without contradiction ... but did he also mean the »contradiction in itself«? This was probably more the specialty of Adorno and Horkheimer, whose Frankfurter School for dialectical quacks reached its limits as their tincture reached a political effect: they had not meant it that way! But what the hell did they mean at all, if they found out something, and did not want any comparison other than a technical one? Adorno once said that it’s barbaric to write a poem after the holocaust of Auschwitz; Paul Celan harvested his barbaric reactions after reading his »Todesfuge (Death Fugue)« aloud ... Yes, there were too many options for making a fool out of oneself without becoming a better human, even for Adorno! ... Arthur was used to having those kinds of thoughts because he was used to those everyday experiences. For him, it was a typical German morning.#

Nothing left to lose

The last music of the evening should normally have come from the stereo behind the bar. With this song, Jason concluded every night in his pub. Then it was usually very late in the small suburb, next to Salinas. »Salinas«! This city's name was one reason he had chosen this nightly farewell hymn. Jason's regulars always played along and joined in the lyrics; this text applied to the guests, whatever they had lost here, to look for their home now and come back soon, or better, not to slip away ... the invitation was understood. But Jason also found himself in this verse: The Texan had once been stuck here, far from his homeland. The nearest state border was farther away than San Francisco, and that was the State of Nevada. But that was not the point: »Home« had ceased to be a place for him. It was a matter of time now ... something that belonged to Jason’s past. For many years, he had been making his guests happy with sad country music from his private collection, as long as no one served the jukebox.

Soon, everyone had said goodbye to »Bobby«. The fact that he was called that, he probably had to answer for himself. No one ever mentioned the actual name of his bar, but only spoke of: »Bobby McGhee (*Me and Bobby McGhee, Chris Kristofferson 1969, Janis Joplin 1971)«. But even this rule had its exceptions. One guest never called him that. This may be because this guest liked to compare him with the actor Jason Robards. Another reason could be that she rarely stayed until closing time. And whenever this happened, Jason had a problem ... and with the best will in the world, he could not explain why he had not had this guest on his radar today; otherwise, he would have been warned. Now he was warned by the jukebox telling him that Texas, Tennessee, and Thelma had the same capital letters (Yodel Number One) ... Ok: If there was any Bluegrass typical for his house, then it was something like this Jimmy Rodgers song played by yodeling Doc Watson. If there was any guest for Jason to admire, then it was the Prof. But both together was fatal, and what now awaited him, was a recurring drama from time to time, the course of which could be foreseen ... »Cheyenne! Will you bring me another Balvany?« Jason held the stock of expensive single malt just for the Prof. It was late, and the little bar had no other guests since the Janis Joplin song. But that wasn't what made him hesitate. He was worried about his friend: »Alice, I think you've had enough, please don't break yourself, ... I don't want to be complicit if a genial woman drinks her mind away!« Alicia looked sadly at the bar, »Oh, Cheyenne! I've had long enough ... enough of everything! Come on! One more, but sit with me!« Jason came with two glasses. He had tried the Scotch before, but was happy to settle for Kentucky bourbon. Alicia watched his way to the table: »Hey, Cheyenne, and tired?« – »We all get tired some time ... and this is the German synchronized text, too! Gill said something different in English« Alicia did not elaborate on Jason's words: »Why do you think I'm a genius, I can't remember you ever being in my lecture hall.« Jason made an almost apologetic gesture: »I'm just a simple man, I've always gotten by somehow, maybe you feel the same way, but on a different level. You don't even have to be challenged; I can see it!« Professor Adams laughed; She laughed as if about a joke: »So you mean I became a dean because I'm so smart? ... No matter how clever you may be, my dear, you can pass all exams magna cum laude, but to get this far, you must possess something your patrons want, what they can use you for! And that has nothing to do with all these sciences I've studied. It's not even about logical thinking. The magic word is Memory! And that in every conceivable form!« Jason realized that the woman he had always admired wanted to confide in him, especially him! That would have made him incredibly proud at any time. Now, it frightened him. Did he possibly have to take responsibility for what he was to experience? Everything he had heard so far on such evenings made him ponder; now, it became dangerous! But he guessed that his question was expected: »And ... what do you possess that the power so desperately needs, ... are you specially gifted?« Alicia paused, »Hey, you skipped my whole question-and-answer game! All right: I came to the USA from a village at the end of the world and became a recognized scientist because I can do something without any professional knowledge. Imagine: everything I've learned and the result of my work is kept undercover and should not be used by anyone! For my current position, they only needed a suitable façade. Alicia stared into the whisky glass on her table: »Oh, if I had never gone to your schools. The science that I followed down into the shaft, from which, youthfully foolish, I expected the confirmation of my pure joy, has spoiled everything for me. I have become quite reasonable with you, have learned to distinguish myself thoroughly from what surrounds me, ...« Jason added: »I am now isolated in the beautiful world, so cast out of the garden of nature, where I grew and bloomed, and dry up in the midday sun.« Cheyenne looked into Alicia's questioning eyes. He knew what the question was, and he replied: »I was stationed in Stuttgart at the beginning of my military service. I was always drawn to the Hölderlin Tower in Tübingen ... I was a philosophy student, and I wanted to become a poet ...« – »But what's stopping you ... even now?« Alicia's eyes were still asking. Jason took a sip of bourbon: »Poets tell of their dreams, not the truth!« – »But that's the point! The author of your last sentence was Lou Andreas Salomé: A poet herself!« – »But later in Vietnam I experienced so much truth that I can no longer dream ... except this one nightmare!« Both looked at each other for a while. Now she broke the silence: »Jason, I don't believe that we are up through life on different levels!« Fortunately, Alicia did not speak any further. She fell asleep before Jason left quietly for the phone: »This is Jason Phillips from the Blue Grass Inn. Sorry if I woke you up ... I didn’t? Thank God! ... Your wife doesn't either? ... It's about ... She needs her friends; I think it's important! ... No, I can't help with that, that once went wrong ..., because she will talk about children next, and I don't have any, I can't have a say...! Hello! ... Mr. Rubenstein, ... Sir?« Jason hung up. He looked over to the table. Alicia moved her head: ... »Cheyenne! ... Where ...« – »I'm here!« – »I'm out of change, will you please throw a coin into the jukebox? You know the song ...!« – »Please, Alice, must that be? You know what happens then!« - »Please, ... I need this now!« ... An almost worldwide faded sound was to listen to: the sliding of a coin into the mechanics of a music machine ...

When Martha and Ray entered the pub, they found the feared situation: Two melancholic victims hugging each other, listening to »Crying Steel Guitar« by Tammy Wynette ... It was late at night ... time to drive the Professor home: She needed some sleep!#

What’s wrong, Doc?

»Morje, Captain, hässte juut jeschloofe? Juut datte do biss (good morning Captain)!« The young woman looked surprised: »Zange, hässten Vurrel? ... Und mimm din Footen weck, bisse jester nit röbberjekomm oda watt (Are you kidding me)?« Zange did not let himself be deterred: »Jetz komm schoo, de wart aal auf disch (Did you forget your appointment?)!« – »Wer waart auf misch, isch han kinn Zick (What are you talking about?) ...« – »Miss Schaffrath! ...« – »That’s my name, do you have any problems with that?« The good mood of the project manager »Eifelteam« showed the first signs of use: »We had an appointment ... my name is Marius Thies ... we met last Friday together with Volker Seidel, do you remember?« – »I cannot even remember you sitting in the same plane on my flight home last Friday ... and your Seidel can kiss my ass ... dä aal Pajass!« Doctor Thies believed it was a joke. He didn't mind that other places had different customs, and that the Eifel was already a country with strange customs; nevertheless he had to get down to business: »So, we want to give you the chance to ride our newest model for today, and let’s hope for more ...« He pointed proudly to the colorfully painted cup car and had to listen in surprise at the same moment: »Sorry, I have no experience with rear-swingers, not even with a circular saw on wheels ... and I don't have time either, I’m only waiting for my team now ... look, they are coming, so: many thanks, bye!« And off was Denise Schaffrath, running towards the container truck that was cautiously coming up the driveway. What was now slowly pushed out, brought Doctor Thies into loud astonishment: »An old GT-40?! They probably want to kid us ...« Zange looked at the boss, a little worried: »I’m sure, that car only looks like a GT 40, Chef!« The team boss sank into a slight pondering, then he spontaneously realized: »Zange, you know her well: go and get something out of her!« Zange was not optimistic because he knew her well, but he went!

»Zange, I was at Monterey! There, they had no long-distance cup last weekend! ... Did you ever hear this: Laguna Seca, California ... Corkscrew? I wasn’t even at home since I am back ... whatever your friends have smoked ... it must have been good stuff!« ... Zange was a patient person; when someone persistently told him something he could not believe, he kept his mouth shut. At some point, the mystery got solved, sometimes even by itself.#

Marius was devastated. His Eifel team did not get going. He had good mechanics from Swabia on loan from the Le Mans Series, and they should be exchanged with people from the Eifel. But this was more than difficult, and that made him jealous of the Zakowskis, who had been able to invest all their experience to make a star out of a café racer. Thies now had a complete factory crew with top international drivers and a project team with nearly the necessary crew but without a driver. He went brooding through the paddock, sat on one of the hillside grandstands, and soon saw the classic from the late sixties thundering over the Müllenbach and disappearing into the Hatzenbach arc. He would love to have the Ring-Flea on the team, even though she was not nearly as nice today as on Friday. Despite her inexperience with engines behind the rear axle, it was unnecessary to prove her level ... »Rear-Swinger« ... Insolence! But she was such a sweet roughneck, and he would give her even a »356 Speedster« if she loved old timers so much! The Proske taking its out-lap was easily overlooked by him because the supposed fossil just passed the Müllenbach straight again, gargling in the direction of Hatzenbach for the next journey around Nürburg. This car was interesting, above all, its mysterious inner workings, this lady driver! He thought of »Zak's« almost invincible snake, although the Americans have never really been able to gain a foothold on the Ring, despite their powerful engines. Their weak point had been, in most cases, the chassis. The rear axles were mostly not supported by Panhard rods or Watt linkages for stabilizing on hilly cornering routes, and the wheel suspensions seemed rather for self-realization than teamwork with the powertrain. The only exceptions were the Shelby Cobras and the GT-40. These were also European, or better, British developments. The GT-40 was inspired by the Lola GT and its father, Eric Broadley. The Cobra had even been a road sports car, built entirely in England as an AC-Ace, in which the crazy Carroll Shelby planted a V-8. In the Seventies, there was the famous Capri RS, also a European with an American company logo. The developers of that racing car had been just like Zak, experienced in Formula One. The names »Harry Weslake« and »Dan Gurney« said it all .... OK: Dan Gurney was an American. And the Mustang's double victory at the 80-hour Marathon de la Route 1965 had already been a pure American sensation. In the next year, an MGB won ahead of a Lotus Cortina and even after 84 hours ... But there was still a pure American success ... yes, of course: the sensation par excellence: Chaparral 2D 1966! Hap Sharp and Jim Hall from Texas built a racing sports car with a three-speed automatic transmission, and Jo Bonnier and Phil Hill won the 1000 km race on the Ring. Well, they weren't that unsuccessful after all, those Amis ...

He didn't even know how long he had been sitting here on T12 when he got up and went to the pits. He wanted to find out something about the lap times of the potential competitor. Unfortunately, he didn't know any of the people who ran the Focht experiment here; there was no familiar face among them, and he didn't know how to get in touch. With: »Hello, I'm from the famous Proske racing department«, he wouldn´t have a chance. Maybe Zange was luckier... The pit lane was quite lively: the GT-40 was just coming in. Somehow, the race director felt superfluous. The people around the new Proske-GT knew what they were doing, and they had nothing to report to him. The »Eifel Team Car« stood abandoned on the edge. Thies looked disappointed at the interior, including the helmet and racing suit, which he had organized in the right size for Denise. He had secretly taken the measurements on Friday. As if in a trance, he opened the door and sat down in the vehicle. Then he informed Zange of his spontaneous decision and drove out of the paddock. Zange was a nice fellow who would make himself useful without being told, which Thies had already noticed in their conversation the previous day, and the car was street-legal. That was part of this particular homologation. With its typical heavy metal song, it hit the road to Adenau.#

Slipstream of History

Arthur drove off Lipper Hellweg and turned left onto Osningstraße. It guided him across the »Osning« hill to the B68 and from there to the motorway entrance at Sennestadt. There had even been car races over this route, but that was before the War. H. P. Müller from Bielefeld had been one of the stars. He had also been one of the lucky few who were successful on motorcycles and cars, even after the last war, at the age of 45! On his way over the summit that was called »Rütli«, Arthur argued with Dorothy again: »No, it wasn't ridiculous that I paid the man more than he wanted for the car! ... Rules of the game? ... What the heck, he had a car to sell that I wanted to buy, and we agreed ... And I liked him ... Cocky, rude? ... I don't think he saw it that way, some people understand me, my dear! He even said, »God bless you!« No one has ever said that to me, because they are all realists!«

On the other side of the Osning, the road meandered in interesting combinations of curves towards Senne1. The place is called that, but how this should be called, what the car was doing which appeared in front of him before a hairpin bend behind the Rütli, Arthur could not classify. The driver braked into the corner in such a way that he almost came to a stop. At this walking pace, he drove over the middle of the road towards the next bend. Since he could not overtake, Arthur devoted himself to what he saw in front of him: The red Ferrari lettering was already a bit curious on the black Volkswagen, even though it was a convertible in the upper price range. The license plate pointed to northern East Westphalia, and the letters –SH 2011 probably had something to do with the first letters of the name, as well as the day of birth and month. Arthur had not heard the description of the place for a long time: »Northern East Westphalia«. That was just ridiculous. Originally, the people here were called »High Saxons« because their area had hills and small mountains, in contrast to the Lower Saxons, who still existed. The area known today as »Saxony« was once incorporated by the first East Frankish king from Saxony, Henry I. They had nothing to do with the tribes that once lived here, who gave the first »Vietnam« together with Varus and the Romans. The same was true for the travel group from Holstein and Eastphalia, known as Anglo-Saxons. The wanderlust of the so-called »Saxons« however, had started later, after the Wall had fallen, but they have continued to this day. Certain nationalistic groups saw and still see East Francia as the origin of Germany, and repeatedly assert their claims to it, especially because Heinrich and his wife, Mathilda, a descendant of Widukind, who came from Enger near Bielefeld, were the parents of Otto I, the first Saxon Emperor in the Roman Empire. Neither Charlemagne nor Widukind may ever have thought that possible. Charles had only been able to convince Widukind with gifts and concessions to Christianity. All usual warlike missionary attempts against the last indomitable Germanic prince had failed ... Arthur looked again at the car creeping ahead. But the red letters didn't say »Ferrari«! The font had made him believe that, but it said: »Führrari« on the tailgate! Now, the license plate had a different, recognizable meaning: »Sieg-Heil-20-April-Adolf«. The number »11« stood for the letters AA in the alphabet ... After the last bend, followed a straight piece of road. The »Führer« of the vehicle in front of him gave full throttle, probably to prove that it was at least his car that was good enough for something.#

The little yellow Spitfire was happily grunting, and Arthur was happy too, even despite driving with a closed roof because of the pouring rain. The funny roadster looked the same as the car, which he had bought at the age of 19. At Hamm-Rynern, he stopped for a short inspection: everything was perfect ... the previous owner had been a British mechanic for airplanes at RAF-Gütersloh.

The hitchhiker belonged to a workers’ union and was on the way home to Waltrop. He was some younger than Arthur, too, and Arthur did not know him ... and because of that, he did not tell him anything about his childhood in this town. That did not matter, the unionist started to talk without any impulse: »The times are bad, and we will have to tighten the belt, but it will pay off for the future ... You know, the wheel cannot be turned backward!« - »... Said the mechanic just before he got run down by those wheels!«, replied Arthur with a short look at him: »The German units have been the same useless pack for the last eighty years! First, you let yourself be fooled by the bigwigs, and then you help the bigwigs to fool the workers! Do you know why? ... because every German union comes from the first one, founded by government politicians after the First World War!« – »But the politicians have been socialists!« Arthur laughed at Dieter's contradiction: »At that time, the real socialists had already gone ... killed by Gustav Noske’s vassals. The remaining SPD only kept the red color as a disguise ... to this fucking day! They had been followers of Ferdinand Lassalle. This Prussian nationalist always attacked Karl Marx for his idea of a worldwide organization instead of being a »German patriot«. Lassalle never wanted the working people to be independent, and the next generation of his followers stepped in by creating the most curious laws. At the end of the Republic of Weimar, Hitler had only to enforce these developments: one small step for the Nazis, and one big step for inhumanity!« - »But the Nazis had brought the »Enabling Law« into the parliament!« - »Yes, and with the agreement of every Democratic Party except the SPD ... But those founders of Weimar Republic had already made enabling laws possible as a tolerated breach of the constitution!« Dieter looked horrified: »You think, we are all fascists?« – »No! At least the SPD was the only party that did not support Hitler's Enabling Act and was forbidden after that, I already confessed this!« – »So, you don’t call us Nazis ... but fools!« – »Not fools but fooled working people! You are a working man, one of many ... and the schools for working people teach how to listen: to listen to the teacher first, and later, every time you switch on a radio or a TV. The schools for politicians teach how to speak, and they would never let you join before you learned »*how to smile as you kill« (*song: Working class hero, John Lennon,1970). And finally, your only option is to vote some of these folks ... »*a choice of Cancer or Polio« (*The Rolling Stones: Salt Of The Earth, album Beggars Banquet 1968).« Dieter became pensive: »Indeed I’m not educated ...« – »But you can make up your mind, and don’t try it with reading German schoolbooks!« - ... »But you are British now ... is this some different?« – »Not at all! Perhaps it was different before Maggi Thatcher. The history of our unions is different, but without any industry, there will be no unions left in Great Britain. She founded an industry for pushers, and paid the bills with poll tax ... a perversion of Mercantilism.« – »What’s Mercantism?« – »It’s regulation for improving the lives of the People in a country by selling more products than spending money for imports. In most cases, however, it depended on cheap commodities for higher profits, and soon mercantilism became the second pillar of Colonialism; finally, it means that the economy is more important than humanity. Do you know why there was still a British colony in China till 1997? Because the British Empire had beaten China in 1841 in the »Opium War«. The ships of British merchants brought Opium from their plantations in India to China. This was more lucrative than using their ships only for transporting goods from India to Great Britain. Opium, however, supported the social disease in the Middle Kingdom. China had the name »Middle Kingdom« because this empire had stood for culture at its highest level, and even neighboring countries had their governments settled in Beijing. As China tried to refuse the opium trade, the same British companies came with cannon boats and a license to kill, given by the British Empire. After a short time, the inexperienced Chinese army capitulated because making war was not a part of Chinese culture. By the »Treaty Gags of Nanjing« in 1843, Macao and Hong Kong became British, and China had to pay for reparations. The result was a weak government, famine, the Chinese Civil War, and the tyranny of Mao Zedong. Every social disease in this world still suffers from the same old disaster: The real goal from the beginning of mercantilism once had been to finance the feudal administrations in an absolutistic Europe.« Dieter understood: »And now, national conditions have changed, but the merchants remained, and only improve their own lives ... a nation of pushers with feudal shopping carts, each one feeling like queen or king of the world, the alternative to »Marx’s »The International«!«

Dropping him at home, he had farewelled the friendly, smiling, but also doubtful-looking unionist. Arthur himself now walked through his former hometown that never had been home ... Somehow it must have been a kind of home if he ever had wanted to survive, but he had forgotten how he had managed this. He did not know why his thoughts clung to William Wordsworth: »What though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight, though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; we will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.« ... Perhaps it was self-ironic. Wordsworth's poems belonged to English Romanticism; he was convinced that life is a circular journey back home to see things right. Arthur could not agree in this case; his point of view had not reached this level ... Perhaps English Romanticism was not the right thing for strayed circular runners ... Once Dorothy had told him: »Everything that happens to you has something to do with you!«, and he had answered: »Of course, it has, in the end!« That had not satisfied her but provoked her to go into details: »Looking back, you do not only watch your ways but your footsteps too, and they show you all the detours and aberrations. Try to learn something from them for better ways in the future!« ... His reaction had made her frustrated again: »If you walk for a long time through a desert, you needn’t look back at your footsteps; you will meet them on the way, showing you that you have gone alone in a circle. That’s the only lesson you have to learn before dying of thirst!«

The little Spitfire left Waltrop. Arthur had lost interest in German History, not only because of »*Having read the book«. A Beatles’ song played in his head ... about »*a man who made the grade by blowing his mind out in a car« (*The Beatles: A Day in the Life,1967). Somehow, this story matched his situation ...#

Sisters in Arms

Sally’s mental state was at its worst. Since she had landed in Europe, she had to suffer like this, and only one thing had led to another. Instead of getting answers to questions she would never have asked herself otherwise, she sank into a swamp of new questions that called into question her entire human existence. The woman and the man who claimed to be her Grandparents were kind, smart people, and they had told her about a trauma that was increasingly taking possession of her. Now she walked along the Ring on its foot trails, and the access to Breidscheid was not far from the house. Grandmother had advised her: »I've done that many times when something was grieving me!« Sally was dealing with her conversations with the two last night and this morning at the breakfast table: »I still have to get boxes out of the room before you can go to bed. They were brought here for Denise the week before last, whatever that is, they are huge!« – »This is a racing simulator!« – »How do you know that?« – »I worked for the sender!« ... »Your mother made a big mistake and therefore had to give up all her happiness. She got involved with the wrong people ... The family has been torn apart to protect you girls. Already at your birth, you had different surnames. For that, we went to Bitburg, under the care of the CIA, her employer ... Charlotte’s task in England had nothing to do with biological research. Still, there was a sudden rumor about her as a biologist ... perhaps to set false trails and confuse the KGB, because Charlotte’s real mission was searching for airplane documents. In the end, the only ones she had in her neck were dubious biologists from the West: Genetic research had probably become fashionable again. When Charlotte became pregnant with twins and gave birth to two identical girls, this had to be covered up immediately, against her scientific colleagues. The birth and your future were now controlled by the people who also had the idea for Charlotte’s mission ... She would have been a good mother, she did everything she could, always visited you, and had to disguise herself, but above all, she could not protect you from the dangers you had wanted to take on your own decisions.« – »Why should the KGB be interested at all, and how should they be confused this way?« – »Maybe so that the enemy would laugh himself to death, maybe even so that Charlotte was thought to be a crazy woman, but no agent. She had no technical experience herself, but a photographic memory. She was probably only supposed to steal something specific, but was always clever enough not to be detected.« – »And why not attract Western Mengele disciples so that they turn a farce into an internationally interesting secret topic? Maybe chaos was the goal, for whatever reason! Apropos: Why do you speak standard German?« – »I was born in Dümpelfeld, but I grew up in Münster. This was the British Occupation Zone of that time; nevertheless, I fell in love with a married GI, and he was more than that, otherwise, he would have had no business there. In general, the borders at that time seemed to have no meaning for him because he stayed mainly in the French-occupied areas of Hunsrück and Eifel, and he took me back to my roots. At first, I only made the German mail for him; later, I kept boxes with documents. When Bitburg became an American airbase, he first got me an administrative job with the US Army there in 1952 and helped me with all the problems in late Post-War Germany, because the occupying powers still had a decisive influence despite the new Federal Republic: even the area of the airbase had previously been confiscated by the French administration to make it usable for the Americans. Before his term of service ended, he had bought me the house in Adenau and provided for his daughter's dual citizenship. So, we were out of his community, and he was again a good family man in Arkansas. With that, Mathew Kellermann disappeared from my life. Denise grew up in Adenau and doesn't speak High German, but she understands it well. She is Vasily's right hand in the business and never needed to adapt to other dialects ... and she has not your gifts, probably because of an undefined mental disorder when she was a child.« Sally had reacted to her descriptions with an embarrassed mine, but Grandma had added: »Your questions are precise, Special Agent!« – »Forgive me, I'm not a special agent, I only want to understand my life and didn't want to get too close to you.« – »Of course, that's okay, my girl! Nobody holds that against you, but you are a special agent whether you like it or not ... The saints are coming through!« - »Is that a code, and I have to answer:»*It’s all over now, Baby Blue« (*Bob Dylan 1965)?« Waltraut had laughed, pointing at Sally: »And that’s your mother coming through!« – »Please, tell me something about my father ... what kind of man was Andrew Moore?« – »Andrew Moore is not your father! Andrew Moore was gay! Your mother knew that from the beginning. She married him because she hoped to disguise her existence again. After all, she managed to ensure that no one associated Charlotte Schaffrath with Thelma Moore for a long time. Andrew needed this marriage to avoid rumors; he was prominent.«

She had to detour through the woods to reach the next foot trail: Bergwerk had no direct access. That began again at Kesselchen. The former steep section, Klostertal, was a relic from the year 1927. It was still a mystic way up to Hedwigshöhe. This name did not mention an Abbess of the former monastery, but the wife of Doctor Kreutz, the directing engineer who built the Nürburgring. She loved accompanying her husband and sightseeing in the lovely landscape from this point ... At Hedwigshöhe, the marshal was occupied, and a nice man with a safety vest exchanged a few words with her. She felt welcome; the people in the Eifel were already great. There were hardly any families here who could be described as extremely wealthy. But people stuck together ... A new Carrera drove by, then again, an »old« GT-40. That was a strange mixture, even though the Carrera was indeed a phenomenon that fit into the picture. It still represented an age-old philosophy that had nothing to do with modernity: an engine behind the rear axle! The customers loved it, and the technicians did everything they could to resist the mid-mounted engines, whether they were thundering behind or in front of the driver, but between those axles. And that had worked until today! When she reached Brünnchen, Sally only noticed how far she had walked. She sat down on a stone and looked at the long curve. Although it was Monday and early afternoon, people were standing here, watching the moderate hustle and bustle on the track. A war-painted car with little underbody clearance and in racing trim crept cautiously through the pothole-ridden gravel to the edge and next to her. Sally made a funny remark: »Hey, Mister, the Ring is more to the right!« The distraction from her problems with funny ideas worked quite well. Now she tried it with thoughts about the potholes in the parking lot: Were they as many *to fill the Royal Albert Hall (*The Beatles: A Day in the Life,1967)? ...

»Well, have you already finished work for today?« The driver of this colorful car was surprised to find her here. The last time he had seen her turning into the pit lane, sitting in a dinosaur ... He had been in Adenau for quite a while before he had decided to drive to the Brünnchen, yet this encounter now seemed to him like witchcraft. Sally got up, »Oh, hello!« Thies' remark was meant more seriously than it sounded: »Nice that you can still remember me!« he came closer now: »Could you not imagine driving across the Ring with such a car?« Sally smiled kindly. That alone made him happy. But she also spoke to him in a friendly way: »I certainly have nothing to say against the car, but I don't have any experience with the company's other products.« As she said this, she pointed to the Proske logo on her counterpart's sweatshirt: »However, I still remember your model’s name, Doctor Thies!« That was more than the engineer had expected: the tough lady of this morning was now even flirting with him, and that in Standard German again. The GT-40 was thundering through the Brünnchen again, too. It was an unwilling-sounding thunder of a forced-down power giant. Before reaching the apex of the valley, he changed his key, and a symphony for eight jackhammers was heard, which did not show the sensitivity of how these instruments had to be conducted to transmit the enormous torque to the road and nowhere else. The orchestra hurried to Pflanzgarten and left the audience an aftershock: awe, goose bumps, and nostalgia. Lola, Chaparral, Mustang, Corvette, Shelby Cobra, and now again: Viper ... together with this old GT, this sound hadn't changed since the advent of large-volume V8 engines. Even die-hard followers of the predator roaring of European high-tourers felt moved by how the air was still vibrating. For Sally, this even caused a slight pain: homesickness! ... Doctor Thies pointed in the direction of the noise, which was still perceived behind the hill as dull gargling: »Now the late shift is probably driving ... how does the Focht go, is it fun?« Sally thought he was referring to Debbie's company car which she still had, though not here at the moment: »Well, the way a small car drives, that is nothing special ...« He laughed: »I'm glad to hear that! ... would you like to drive something special? ... I mean, right now? The marshal will certainly let us in, we are registered!« – »And the racing suit?« – »Is in the car ... it's your size, ... the helmet, the shoes, and the gloves too!« Sally got into the mood: changing clothes between the driver's door and, for this purpose, a much too low roof, she earned big eyes from those present, but thank God, no comment. This would have been more embarrassing for the Proske race director than his Lady driver. She only said to the group: »There is just as much to see in the bathing establishment!« Then the Proske carefully felt her way down the dirt road-like driveway to the track, and disappeared under yellow flags into the next right bend, uphill. From then on, she had picked up enough speed that green was swung. The lady pilot could only guess the funny speeches and shoulder patting given to Thies, who had remained behind and asked the marshal for a short telephone call.

»Tell me, how many circular saws do they have on the track?!« The headset answered: »At the moment, there is only one ... coming straight out from the pits; the other one already left the paddock on the road to Adenau!« – »I can see one vanishing behind Galgenkopf ... looks like an out-lap ... let’s investigate this!« – »Denise, keep your pace! This is a long-distance check and no qualifying!« – »I’m getting closer, let’s have a look ... What engines do they have?« – »3,6 liters!« – »And I have 5,4, Yippy Yi Yeah, fast-food!« – »You stop this!« – »Too late, I get him ... oh, he’s holding the pace ... See you at Antonius!« – »I told you to leave it, you cheeky lass!« – »Wow!! He blocked my way, coming from the inside ... no braking, no thinking, but nearly getting thrown out, that’s the damned Van Dorens, dä bekloppte Beljier kennt kinne Sippschaff! Ok, old boy, I'll tell you something!« – »Denise!« – »Our talking is over, ... sowatt von over!« At a distance of half a carriage length, two chariots whizzed across the finish line. Nobody in the pits could explain it, especially not as the third car passed some later. The marshal reported to the route safety explaining the second Proske.

The boxes now had radio contact with the ghost rider. After the next lap and about a nine-minute loud radio scolding at both command posts, the same scene occurred on the same white line, both cars side by side ... and the belligerents were caught behind the first Castrol by black flags. The team manager had just been picked up from Brünnchen and gave his instructions while still running. The Carrera was taken under lock and key by closing the gate as fast as possible, so as not to let any adrenaline-poisoned fighter burst in ... or even burst out. Zange routinely took the helmet from »Denise« and patted the pilot’s shoulder: »Juute Zick för en ärsten Ritt mit em Heckschleuder- Sääsch!« Marius stood with his back to the wall and gasped. Then he slowly approached: »Any skirmishes with small cars, especially if they are nothing special, should be avoided!« He somehow must have come too close; now, he was holding her in his arms, somehow feeling released and somehow not knowing ... This scene now developed into a still image; nothing else moved. The mechanics, whatever they were about to do, stood by watching in surprise. And the couple stood there ... holding each other ... as if time had stood still. When they finally let go of each other, only the two cars were left in their company. The mechanics, drivers, and assistants had gone outside. Sally changed her clothes again, and Marius regretted having to watch it ... He regretted having to watch her dressing on again, of course ... When they left the pits, it was Zange who broke the silence: »We make the cleaning up, Chef!« That was probably the last thing Thies recognized about his environment. He nodded gratefully to his people. With an unreal sparkle in their eyes, the two, still hugging while walking, sank back into another world and took their way with sleepwalking certainty, passing by the Focht box. They passed a young woman too, who stood unnoticed, but watched the couple with big eyes and her slowly opening mouth. Again, the fourth dimension seemed to be affected. This was the form of slow motion. As physics had finally found its way back to its everyday form, a fist grabbed the still dreamy-looking mechanic from behind, turning him almost around his axis: »Zange! Watt jeht heer vor, sach mer, oppisch jeck bin! (tell me if I’m crazy!)« – »Nää, Müssjer, do biss net jääk! Do häss op dä Carrera disch met dä Focht jeprüjelt, dann op dä Focht met dä Carrera, denn häss dä Cheff jebüzt un buzz ramenters heer röm, datt is voll mormaal (No, my little one! You only raced against yourself, that’s normal).« Zange's gaze followed Denise, and he called after her: »Isch weiss wär heer jäck iss ... datt bin isch (I know who’s crazy: that’s me)!«

Marius Thies opened the passenger door of his car for the lady and closed it after she got in. Reaching the driver's side now, he found the shed standing open and the seat behind the steering wheel already occupied. He believed again in a typical Eifel joke and only remarked: »How did you get so fast with your legs over the transmission tunnel? ... From me, you can also drive ... Damn! What ... who?« He knew this woman in such an outfit, but she had changed clothes just ... before his eyes! Now she sat there again in a racing suit, looking at him with an expression of horror. Her left forearm was angled and formed a horizontal plane parallel to the dashboard. The left forefinger remained stretched out in the direction of the passenger seat. The woman opened her mouth, but like in a nightmare, she couldn't get a word out. The evening dawned around them, and the Spielberg Horror Scene was perfect ... Thies wondered where the voice suddenly came from, maybe it was contributed synchronously by the director, only that they were mistaken in the selection of the dialect, playing something from a traditional Cologne-popular theater: »Dokta Frankenstein, jetz verzell mer kinne Driss: Bin isch datt?«

Even as the three sat in the Wild Pig, Sally could not refuse to laugh again and repeated, »Doctor Frankenstein! Can you tell me if I’m her?« Denise’s reaction suddenly made her shut up. What that girl said in the same fun style as in the car matched exactly Sarah’s nightmare she was carrying: »Perhaps the only joke is: Doctor Frankenstein is not him ... that has to be someone else!« Marius looked from one lovely face to the other: »You are twins who have been parted ... And now you have found each other, isn’t that wonderful?« Denise wasn’t satisfied with that: »That’s one option! Fact is: we are two women having no parents and looking the same!« Marius got confused: »But you know your parents! How can you think about ...« – »About what: Human Parthenogenesis?« - »Could you ever have had your showdown today if Andrew Moore were not your father? Your common talent comes through!« Marius suddenly looked frightened: »Did ... did I say something wrong? Please forgive me!« His words, »Your common talent comes through«, had caused Sally’s face to get even more horrified. Now shaking her head, she got back her self-control: »No, ... what you say is right, Love!« That wasn’t on Denise’s mind: »I tell you what’s wrong: everything they told us is wrong! And when they cloned us, something must have gone wrong in the glass tube, too! Or why are we so different in every other case?« – »Because we grew up different!« – »I tell you the difference: while you developed like a healthy genius, I stopped talking from one moment to the other at the age of three years, and they called me Autistic! When I got back my voice, it only matched the common image of sassy behavior. Some people called me evil; others despised me as mad. The truth is that I was scared, and this undefined fear has become a part of my life.« - »Are you still scared when driving races?« -»No, I control my functions and take any advantage. I wouldn´t dare to fear the Ring because this predator just waits for that ... All the rest is an everyday disaster: My memory feels like a sieve, and my only advantage is dealing with mathematics and perfect accounting so as not to forget anything important ... by the way: if you can remember everything, Sarah Rubenstein: tell me something about our birth, that might help!« Sally hid her tears and tried to smile: »Children can only remember things when their brains have developed to identify them ... I cannot remember our birth!« – »But did you ever have any strange feelings, and could not explain to yourself? Where do they come from? What, if something has happened and still burns inside ... something you cannot identify? Your existence may be a hint, but not the answer to the question of my life ... our lives! Above all, it matches the story of Thelma Moore! I did not contact the Brits because of this fear. I had been too young to understand when I listened to Grandma and Sabrina talking, but I cannot forget this moment, and it’s the only thing from that age I can remember!« – »Who is Sabrina?« – »Our mother’s friend, who also had studied in California. Sabrina Päffgen is from Cologne and has lost her family too ... She comes at least twice a year from America to visit us.« – »And Sabrina Päffgen frightens you?« – »Not her but the nightmare I have had since that day: she sits there talking to me, but I can’t hear her voice, and I’m weeping! And I cannot say why this is a nightmare!« - »And you cannot remember something else ... I mean Something special, a gift, for instance?« Denise shook her head. Marius Thies did not know what to do. This situation was very private, and he did not want to disturb them, but Sally grabbed his hand: »Stop! If you love me, you must stay and listen: this can be important for both of our lives too!« Then she took her sister in her arms: »When did you last meet Sabrina?« - »At the paddock of Laguna Seca ... She behaved strangely as if she wanted to tell me something... But I did not listen, being busy, ... and I felt scared again. Now, I know why!« - »How did you become a racer, Denise?« Her sister pulled out a handkerchief and snorted according to her typical tough behavior: »I admired the daughter of the baker’s shop because she used to drive over the Ring to deliver pastries to the neighboring villages. Sometimes I was allowed to come with her even though she was some older than me ... and her goods were called: the fastest buns in the world. In her shop, they had a small framed photograph on the wall: a young man carrying a little girl on his arm, who was playing with his hat. The picture fascinated me, and one day, Sandra’s mother told me the story of »Hätzebrenner«. Sandra added that no champion had ever inspired her more than this fighter, who had no chance, and who disappeared mysteriously. But before that, he had held her on his arm and given her his cap ... Later, I delivered meals for Grandpa’s customers, ... over the Ring ... And I always had to think about Hätzebrenner. After the fastest buns, Adenau had her fastest Gyros!«#

Entering the house, Arthur heard »Hätzebrenner« ...it came somewhere out of the corner, invisible from the bar stool, he had just occupied ... The next words he had to listen to from behind were worse: »Good evening, General!« – »Stop that...!« Arthur turned around and expected the face of a wild student-waitress, but it was the lady of the house! ... »Oh, sorry, Ma’am!« She did not mention it, but came closer, whispering: »The Captain and her sister are sitting over there in the back ... will you join them?« He did not show his surprise: »No, thank you ... I won’t disturb them, they haven’t seen each other for twenty-five years!« The landlady turned around on her heel with a friendly smile and suddenly stopped. Then she looked over at Arthur again, went to the sideboard, and thoughtfully brought him the menu ...

Now, she had reappeared behind the counter. The number of guests was manageable. »I heard you have been a racing driver too?« – »No, but I would have liked to become one ... an accident prevented this right at the beginning.« – »But this has already happened to many people, especially at the beginning ... why didn't you try again?« – »In my case, that was not possible ... Craniocerebral Trauma, the doctors have said ... after that, I no longer had full vision in my left eye. There are, and have been, racers with only one leg, without legs, with a stiff arm. But having only one eye intact, you can no longer get a racing license ... I can remember only one exception: This probably once happened in America in the twenties, but after they had found out, the good Tommy Milton had already celebrated so many successes that he was allowed to continue.« – »Well, maybe your mishap has something good. I mean: for your family!« – »There is no family. When I decided to become a racing driver, I didn't want to be responsible for any consequences to others. Well, that worked out ... just not with racing!« – »Did you regret it?« – »That I wanted to be a racing driver? ... No, I couldn't think of anything better. I then learned to manage my problems successfully. As long as I don't add anything, I have the perfect overview.« Arthur finished his meal, thanked her for the conversation, and wished: »Good night!«#

»Good morning!« Sally came into the hall with her luggage and apologized to the waiter. She had forgotten to let him know that she would not have breakfast here. Arthur had already paid the bill. He was on his way to Calais with his small roadster, glad to have escaped the land of grimace and happy that there was no wall yet, except that modern mobile wall fixed into their heads. The most experienced StaSi Officers were now working for the good guys: Finally, what belonged together had come together.  Arthur felt miserable: he would always love this fucking country ... if he ever had a chance to be useful in a good way; from everything else, they had more than enough, anyway. He harmonized Hölderlin's thoughts but did not know Hölderlin. Doctor Findlay would never have harmonized Arthur's thoughts. He was almost enthusiastic about Germany and had told Arthur about this country from his view, where he had been stationed from 1945 to 1947: »That was just great! Imagine a country where only anti-fascists lived after having been freed from an inhuman regime whose atrocities they had known nothing about, or had themselves been undercover resistance fighters, even in SS Uniforms, ... and now they saw a kind of Messiah in me ... What do I say »Messiah«: They treated me like a human being! This has neither happened before nor after. At home in New York, I was still their »Jim Crow«, no matter if I had made them healthy again. Without Merlin and you all, I would be desperate for the rest of my life! ... Together with you again for a visit to Germany? I don't think about it! In the end, you tell them I'm a Turk, just to annoy me!« Arthur admired the doctor. When he came to the village, he had already passed fifty, only ten years younger than Mrs. Alington, and he was still working. Arthur liked stubborn people as long as they weren't callous against others, like most official vassals he had met during the last days. A perfidious system from Arthur’s view: This state had a »Grundgesetz« instead of a Constitution, and the message of Article 20/2 was, above all, »Every power comes from the People«. Arthur’s logic was as simple as his interpretation: So, the politicians had the duty to prevent this power from returning to the People ... In his fantasy, he listened to Gerhard Gundermann singing: »Keine Zeit mehr«

It was time for Sarah Rubenstein to leave the beautiful, historic inn, which had housed many modern gladiators for decades. But those were not her thoughts, at the moment: Marius hadn't stayed with her, he hadn't asked ... she wouldn't have wanted that either ... Not now ... And he had probably noticed that. But that was certainly not a bad omen: she had seen something in his eyes when they had said good night, that she hoped to recognize today again; then everything would be fine. She thought about the contents of the last envelope, which she had finally read in full. However, what she had read didn’t let her go. She regretted not having seen Arthur and hoped he wasn't hurt. She could imagine it, but she also knew that with Arthur, one could never imagine exactly what was hurting him ... Grandma's kitchen smelled of coffee; Marius had returned from his project team and was already sitting at the table, or rather, he had been sitting there until her arrival. Now, the two practiced the still-life pose again, and he had the hoped-for shine in his eyes. Denise had taken a shower and rubbed the towel over her head. Then she pushed the strands of hair behind her shoulder: done! She had only slept three hours; she and her »Parents« had celebrated their reunion, which now, albeit in a moderate form, was to continue.

»What's next?« The question came from »Ömm«. Vasily couldn't get a word out. His eyes wandered from Sarah to Denise and back again. There was so much going through his head that he couldn't talk. Sarah pressed around a bit: »I have to go back to Hampshire, there's still ...« – »Of course, child, your mission is important, you must not lose the thread!« Sally looked at Grandma with similar surprise as the other two young people looked over at her. Waltraut looked around like a general: »That's how it works! What did you think: The CIA is a coffee party in the Eifel?« Marius laughed about this special joke but also didn't know how his message would be received: »We have to go to Weissach. Denise is now driving for us .... But then at least I won't forget how you look, Honey!« – »Well, hopefully, it stays with looking, and you, Denise keep your hands off him, right?!« - »That´s another hint for being different: our different tastes, right?!#

When Sally parked the car next to the right part of the cottage, she found the village quiet and almost empty. This was because Dorothy held one of her popular courses in the Pub. After all, even those from Popplebush were interested from time to time. It was always amazing how many people could fit into the guest room after the tables had been carried outside and replaced with seating furniture, but this was already fun for most people and promoted community. It had even happened that the meeting had to take place in the factory hall. But at that time, it was about a concert by Jethro Tull. To The Dubliners later, Dorothy had not wanted to withhold the beautiful pub. Everything else would have been a break in style, either. However, all from New Popplebush had to keep their mouths shut towards the neighboring village in this case.

Sally had only noticed, in passing by, something going on in the Power Slide. Before she left the car, she reached into the envelope again and looked at the object, reminding her of the inner workings of a ballpoint pen. She knew what it was, and it had nothing in common with a ballpoint pen. She left the car and went into the cottage, thoughtfully.#

Mystery Circumstances

»Why do most thinkers of today’s philosophy believe that Hegel's doctrine is so meaningful? If someone claims that all existence, whether in physical or spiritual form, including all history in its context, yes, that everything is directly connected just because of a big idea behind all existence, I have to ask myself whether this idea does not come from a sadistic sociopath. This idealism has nothing to do with social commitment; when everything would regulate itself, I ask: What should the spiritual big picture look like if it consists of traumatized victims of a barbaric state of nature? And what is that supposed to achieve: negation, the negation of the negation, a higher level of the self? Thinking and experience make changing mind ... Point! ... and: thesis, antithesis, synthesis: one must make compromises if society is to be social, that’s it!« Paul Donohue had made an unexpected statement about the philosophical evening. He received quite an applause, and Dorothy was pleased with the contribution of the Popplebush Police Department Chief: »Great, Paul! I can understand your attitude very well and share it on most of its points. But I don't intend to make you Hegelians here and now ...« Evelyn and Debbie spoke up: - »You wouldn't be lucky with that: a nationalistic glorifier of war requests the police state. This philosopher makes use of Plato and Aristoteles for his interests, and propagates »Machiavellianism!« – »And he demonizes the Freedom of the press, speaks off any rational thinking to women, and is still glorified by socialists!« Laughing, Dorothy made a soothing gesture with both hands: »Yes, I can certainly represent this opinion! However, no one can ignore this philosopher who thinks about the meaning of life. Not because Hegel is right, but because he has divided his vast oeuvre according to criteria whose precise structure offers an ideal footing for the exchange of opinions without losing the thread. It's as if he had built a ladder to reach a higher level. Many other philosophers have seen this ladder and then placed it against another wall because they thought the destination was somewhere else. This is the only way to explain why Hegel is still a topic. The biggest mistake, however, is made by those who climb this ladder without worrying about where it leads.« – »Who knows who has just adjusted it again!« Richie's heckling amused everyone. From the hall came the question: »What does Machiavellianism mean?« – »This is to be equated with the justification of any action that serves the attainment of power or its preservation. Machiavelli coined the phrase »The end justifies the means« as a premise for a functioning state. His work, »The Prince«, is a summary of his own experiences with the Borgia family. His analysis is empirically based on successful power. Machiavelli’s inference was that any crime, done by a government itself, must be tolerated as collateral damage to protect higher values. And if you look at all these democratic nations, including their produced collateral damages, you might think that there are higher values than the life and the rights of single persons!« Dorothy cleared her throat demonstratively, then turned her attention to one of the back rows: »I would like to ask the two Orchid Bosses to conduct their private conversations somewhere else ... otherwise I'll have to separate you both!« ... The usual school class laughter followed ... »Hey, Arthur, what are you doing?« – »I'm sitting somewhere else to do my private self-talk!« – »Not that! Please stay here, that was a joke ...!« Now Becky remarked: »Once again, a disturbing impulse has paralyzed the Lord's entire system of order!« Arthur stopped in the doorway and turned: »You are right, my lady, and I'm an Autistic! And of course, I have an »Insular Talent«: I can survive, whether you like it or not! Arthur closed the door from the outside, and Gordon stood up, shouting, »What has Arthur done to you? Is he a bad boss? Or is he too good a boss to whom you can pay back everything he didn't do to you?« Becky defended herself: »He's sometimes an idiot, you just have to look at ...« – »Oh, and then you have to slap your desolate worldview around his ears without being asked? Do you think he understands that at all, if he is such an idiot?« – »It may be that something arrives, even if not much, a real impulse can do something with a man!« Dorothy was desperate: »Gordon, where do you want to go now?« – »Don't worry, Dorothy, I'm just offended! This will subside with the next positive impulse ... You've heard how I'm controlled!« Now Becky jumped up and ran to the door, crying. Bill vented his anger, calling after her, »Exactly! And now: play the victim!« For Doctor Willow, the whole world collapsed: »What have I done ...!?« John hugged her: »It’s not your fault! In case of that, we wouldn't have full ranks every time, you're a great lecturer and the most lovable one at that ... Tiffy, can you stop playing with my hat, it makes me nervous!« Tiffy played the defiant child: »Man ... I also want such a hat! ... It suits me, doesn't it?« She posed like a mannequin. Dorothy had to laugh now and responded to the welcome distraction: »If you want something like that, then you wouldn't have had to study in the first place!« – »Why not? John also studied; he's even a professor!« Neither Dorothy nor John could get a word out. It had been very quiet in the hall before. Now, everyone seemed to be waiting for the sky to fall on their heads. Eric grabbed the brim of the police hat with both hands, pulling it over Tiffy's face from front to back. After a while, she pushed the front brim back up so that she could at least speak again: »So what? Everyone here knows that, and I did not tell them ... It's time you two know this too!«

Becky caught up to Arthur, »... I didn't want such an argument ...!« Arthur half turned around, »Oh, Rebecca ... Don't get upset, nothing happened to anyone!« As he said this, he walked on. – »Where are you going now?« – »Where no one can push me around or exclude me ... unless I lose my house key!« He demonstratively held it up. Becky went back again but crossed Gordon’s path. She stopped and reproached him: »You don't have the slightest idea about women ... both of you!!« - »No Idea about women ... are you all the same, ... the same as you? ... Or are there a few model deviations? Show me your manual!« Then he called after the woman who pulled away: »I thought the men were all the same!« – »She means something else!« Gordon turned around to the voice and the belonging Debbie: »So, does she? Does she perhaps think that we should endure female meanness silently, flatter them with compliments, and otherwise recognize all privileges? Then I'd rather do it like the boss, stepping out of your way!« Gordon went home. On the way, he turned around again briefly, because he had to react to Debbie's calling in any case: »Yours’s an asshole yourself!«#

Gianna and Giacomo helped until the end, cleaning up. Gianna hugged the sad Dorothy: »I'm sorry what happened, it must hurt a lot!« Dorothy sobbed, »They are so lovely People, and now there is discord among them!« Giacomo tried to cheer Dorothy and John up: »Oh, no! You can mend it again! You are like mom and dad to them! Sit down and have a drink! Today you will be served once. I cook for you, ... from the best cuisine in the world, Italian cuisine!« ... It should be a nice evening for four.#

Arthur watched the small newspaper car standing next to the house. He was glad that Sally was back safely. He didn't want to disturb, who knows who else was there. He heard no voices from next door, but a knocking; this did not come from the door to his living room but from an adjoining room of the neighbor's house ... He hesitated for a moment, but then he opened the connecting door. He followed the sound to the bedroom: »Excuse me, Sarah, you probably didn't hear my knocking ... is everything all right?« – »Of course! I was knocking too ... on the floor. There was only a floorboard loose!« She smiled at Arthur's apology and wished him a nice evening, too. She was glad he hadn't come in before she had already fixed the board again. Now she put the tool away and pushed the hand-drawn plan back into the envelope, together with an old photograph. She took the pistol, which she had quickly hidden under the bed, and inserted the bolt that looked like a ballpoint pen refill. There was only one cartridge in the magazine. The pistol was a rare piece; it was almost impossible to get spare parts. The condition was excellent because the careful packaging had prevented any corrosion beneath the floor. She loaded the revolver and left the room.

Arthur's living room looked exactly like the photograph. So, it hadn't changed in all those years. Above the low table hung a lamp with a wide glass shade. Arthur sat in his armchair diagonally between the window with the panoramic view of Popplebush to the west, and the large bookshelf behind him. She couldn't see him until she entered the room. He was watching his favorite video, »Casablanca«, and Dooley Wilson just sang »As time goes by«. Arthur noticed Sarah. He also saw the pistol in her hand. He turned off the apparatus and looked straight into her face: »Excellent timing for a ritual murder, don't you think? Any normal order would be long since done ... Have you been cloned specifically for this purpose, or is there more to it? ... There must be more!« The young woman seemed indecisive to Arthur. She approached the living room table and turned back to it. She now stood directly in front of the table’s edge, and with her back to the lamp, the suspension of which was anchored to a thick wooden bar under the ceiling. She now remained directly under this big piece of wood, looking at him almost pitifully. Arthur memorized this image as if he wanted to take it with him to the afterlife as completely as possible. The girlish figure spoke to him, »Daddy ... I don't want to kill you!« Arthur seemed surprisingly calm: »I don't mind if my destiny is fulfilled, but don't mock me on top of that, lady: do your job, but don't say, Daddy!« Recognizing which pistol was held up by this twee hand, he added: »Well, you can't kill me with that, my Child! Don't you know it's broken? The bolt is missing! Did you steal this toy from your mom?!« At the same moment it had been trickling slightly from the ceiling, for no apparent reason to Arthur when Sally had raised the revolver. This he had indeed noticed. The trickling must have surprised Sally, too, because she was still standing there, seemingly not having accomplished her work but looking up at the ceiling, or rather, at the wooden beam. She looked over at Arthur in confusion. He thought it was because he again had said: »My Child« and »Your Mother«. Now, she also told him what had amazed her: »I only shot once! Sure, only once, you must have heard it; and there was only one bullet in it!« Her figure covered the room lamp behind her and was to a large extent only recognizable as a silhouette of a child, and her talking recalled a girl who defiantly stood by her claim. If she had now stomped her foot on the ground, this typical family scene would have been perfect. Arthur did not know that a captain wouldn't do that. Everything was spinning in his head. It seemed to him that he had awakened from a dream, but the environment had remained. He replied almost casually: »Yes, you probably shot once! The other bullet in the bar is from Thelma, same revolver, the same situation ...one generation ago!« He had risen from his chair, and now he embraced her: »Welcome home, my Child!« Sally was beginning to realize what had happened, why she had to do this ... Not exactly: she recognized a pattern without knowing anything about the connections: »And you didn't hear the shot?« – »No, I didn't! I even didn't hear the first shot, but I can remember both now ... or it’s only an imagination, who knows!«#

Arthur had brought something to eat, and above all, something to drink. Both sat on the sofa: »Why did you recognize the pistol, but didn't hear a shot?« – »The shots were probably the impulse triggers for the subconscious, and the subconscious does not tell the consciousness everything; otherwise, hypnosis would probably not work. I knew the revolver from Thelma’s and Andrew's house. It lay as decoration on the mantelpiece. I probably had to forget about that, too, but I recalled it after your shooting.« – »Why have you been hypnotized? Do you have any idea?« - »I think it’s a long story! My memory from that time to this very moment was my awakening from the coma and getting told that I had an accident on the Nürburgring a month ago, and that Andrew had died in a race at Sebring. The truth is that I had never been in a coma, and my handicaps are not the result of this accident. My left eye had been weak since my birth, and I had forged my health test for getting a racing license ... Someone else did that for me. That must be the reason why they brought me away from the Nürburgring pits ... to avoid any physical examinations. After Andrew had died, I got depressed because he was my friend, and she was his wife. I suddenly felt as if I had betrayed him, so I did not dare to date Thelma again. I traveled several times between Germany and England, not knowing where I belonged. Staying in New Popplebush meant staying drunk. I think your mother helped all of us this way; she even got herself and her unborn children out of danger. So, don’t blame her: She’s a heroine!« Sally lay back and took his hand: »Do you mean a heroine like Ingrid Bergman as Ilsa Lund?« – »Why not? Thelma was prepared to sacrifice her relationship for something higher ... just as Ilsa; what could be a higher thing in her case but the love of a mother! »As time goes by« matches my memories the same, whether before or after. But now again, I remember her music, as she took the revolver ... I forgot this song too for the whole time!« He searched the board for a record and played »Both Sides« by Joni Mitchell. Sally looked pensive: »Do you think you could have a different life now if you had not lost your memory ... Would you have made different decisions?« – »Perhaps I would have loved to be your father, but there must have been a reason for Thelma not to trust me ... I was tumbling down ... and I don’t know how deep. But my incomplete memory about these four weeks let me start working for the Orchids and helping the widow of my best friend, loving her secretly, but never trying to get more ... She was still his wife, and I did not want to betray him, although he was dead now ... isn’t that funny?« – »So, you did not know that he was gay?« – »Only before, ... and now, of course. If someone had told me this yesterday, I wouldn’t have believed it ... But indeed, I would have changed something, if I had a second chance ... There is a word: »Looking back, I have this to regret that too often when I loved, I did not say so« ... it’s by David Grayson alias Ray Stannard Baker!« Sally added,»I know it from my father. His name is Ray Stannard Rubenstein!« Arthur was surprised: »You got raised by Merlin?! Be proud of your parents, girl, they are good people!« – »You know them?« – »Nobody knows them, ... but everybody in this village remembers him and Martha!« ...#

Sally could not sleep that night ... always thinking about his words: »Perhaps I would have loved to be your father, but there must have been a reason for Thelma not to trust me« ... Was this the only possible reason? The evening with Arthur passed her head again: »How could she be sure to take away your memory for this long time?« - »She works for the CIA ... Did you forget?« - »And how could a complete village hide the truth for this long time? They must have seen you, at least at Andrew’s funeral, knowing everything that you had to forget !« - »I was used to being alone ... all they had to do was keep this situation. And that counts for only a few people because most of the others are too young or came later into the village ... I was known as »crazy«, and they let me believe it myself ... They probably had no other option. Be happy that you were a little girl when she gave you away: who knows at which age a highly gifted child begins to define her life?« - »To identify, Dad ... The word is: »Identify«!« Then they had hugged, weeping.#

Vasily Valaitis opened the door, laughing: »Come in, Edgar! I expected you ... A cup of coffee?« The young officer looked unsettled: »You expected me!?« – »Yes, boy ... and the file in your hand demonstrates that I was right! You are searching for an answer, and you try to get it from the cold case of Charlotte Schaffrath. I can tell you everything about this file: Charlotte still has not been found. That’s the same with Thelma Moore. And each vanished together with a little girl. Nobody believes that because Charlotte had no flight license, and Karl Schwandt was called a drunkard. I know the complete story ... every newspaper article and every piece of information about Piper Cherokee that your predecessor had collected ... Do you know that old Polizei-Hauptmeister Dröse had died because of drinking?« Edgar was astonished ... this was a small village, and he had grown up here ... and he was the Police Chief Constable and did not know ...: »Vasily, what do you know else ... please, it's important!« The old man smiled friendly: »The only thing that’s important now is: the story of Charlotte and Thelma is a story of one pilot but two children! Come on, start your police car, we will drive to Karl, I already informed him!« – »You informed him about what?« – »That we will visit him in the next days ... let’s go, boy!«

»*Da geht dä Schutzmonn, dä hatt de janze Daach no nix jedonn (*Edelweiss Piraten 1939-1947, German youth movement against NS)!« Karl waved to the approaching duo and shook hands, laughing: »I knew they would get you, sometime, Vally!« Now they were sitting together under a pergola which was fixed between the house and the sheepfold. From behind the living room window, a woman waved and turned again, talking to someone else. Karl Schwandt took the file out of Edgar’s hands without a word and opened it: »Oh yes! How fast time fades away! The old Dröse visited me twice a week, asking the same thing again and again! Sometimes he babbled his questions, but I did not need to understand him, knowing what he had come for. One day, Vally joined us, and we began to modify the story. From this day, Waltraut had better sleep. I’m just looking at the pictures ... The plane was similar but not the same, it had a different identity code ... I give you an actual photo!« Edgar had no chance to say anything the whole time, but he sat there with an open mouth, listening to Karl talking. But now, even his eyes got wide: the »actual« photo demonstrated a Piper Cherokee standing on the meadow in front of Karl Schwandt’s home! Edgar did not ask anything ... but his eyes did, and Vasily answered: »When Bitburg airbase was closed, the Amis sold everything superfluous, and after turning an old hangar upside down, this old coffee mill fell out ... And I bought it, let’s go!« They went to the hill behind the old house, and the officer noticed that not everything was a hill that looked like a hill; the lower part was a large shed. It was obscured by trees and had a large wooden gate with two wings. Vasily and Karl opened the shed and moving his gate wing, Korsakov held a speech: »It’s a special kind of magic, ... and it has got everything that an enchantment needs, even a magic word!« Edgar did not exactly understand, but he believed these words anyway ... because he witnessed the unveiling of the mystery lost airplane. The waving woman from before and her guest had left the house, too. So, Elisabeth, the landlady of the Wild Pig, was Karl’s partner, and now, together with Waltraut, she joined the men. Edgar looked around and scratched his head: ... he still had a lot to learn! But Vasily had still to tell a lot too, talking about his special magic: »The only condition of the spell is that you have to mean it if you say it: the magic word is: Family!«, and »Vally« asked: »Fläsch Bier?« ... Edgar smiled and nodded. The thought of a beer was great, now!#

»You speak great English, without any accent!« Martha was amazed at the language skills of the three young ladies. – »We come from Hiddenhausen in East-Westphalia; there is no dialect in our mother tongue.« – »Be glad: East-Westphalia is difficult enough in standard, and what brought you to Adenau?« – »There’s only our job at the wild boar; our parents can't give us much money. We study in Bonn and live in Altenahr. This works well by train. We only need the car if we drive home or to work. Fortunately, this is often. We can only be booked by three ... Gosh: And today, Salvatore is absent too!« – »And you three can just leave the hotel together?« – »Well, eh ... you are the only guests at the moment, and the Boss is probably on the way to the office!« ... The fully occupied Opel Ascona drove into the trail that passed by the marshal point of Quiddelbacher Höhe. The temporary staff of the inn not only wanted to spare the Americans the walk, but also came along completely.

Ray put his arm around his wife's shoulder as he walked and hugged her to him, »This is a wonderful country here. It is not typical for Germany, but it would be a good start, even for Europe. Look at the neighboring countries that share this landscape. The people in the Eifel and Hunsrück always had the least share in any economic cycles or recessions; their income had always been meager, and they never had to change much. This was also an advantage because they never stopped maintaining their social structure.« – »What is typical for Germany?« – »Berlin, Dortmund, Cologne, Dresden ... Bielefeld ... Hoyerswerda ... Cities with many insecure people whose fears are slowly turning into hatred.« – »Does Hoyerswerda have many inhabitants?« – »No, but it stands for absolute hopelessness! They feel fooled, and they can't do anything about it. The state leaders take their jobs, pensions, and pride ... And they give the money to the consultants, the corporations that move abroad, and the bank and insurance managers as bonuses! It's the same in America, but in European industrial countries, it has much clearer social consequences. Look at England: A tight state is the greatest threat to freedom! People feel like stowaways on a sinking ship of fools.« One of the girls asked, »Did you come by ship? Then you are probably sailors! Cicero said: »There are three kinds of people ...« – »That was Plato!« – »No, Aristotle! ...« - »I want to get a sailing license now, it's much nicer than driving a car ...« The friends rolled their eyes: »O.K.: we'll take a boat on a trailer next time if we need to go shopping ... just for you!«

Vasily had to go to the fridge again because there was quite a crowd of people. He came back with a basket full of beer bottles. At the same time, some music sounded out from behind the plane. It seemed to Edgar that it wasn’t only a song but the hymn of a conspiratorial community, he would love to join: »I Got a Name« by Jim Croce ... Elisabeth turned to the girls: »Do you think that’s acceptable to leave our house completely?«#

Minds of Thunder

»I will not accept your resignation, Rebecca!« – »I am a free person and can quit my job whenever I want!« There was trouble brewing in Arthur's office, and this time, he enjoyed it. It was a welcome change from his worries and thoughts: »Of course, I can't stop you! If you just leave now, I can't do anything ... but as long as you don't quit your job, you will remain »Export–Becky«!« - »Don't quit?! ... what's that in your hand, that's ...!« Becky's words faltered: Arthur had held a lighter under the paper and turned it so as not to burn his fingers. Now he threw it into the empty trash can. Arthur looked straight into Becky’s eyes: »You spared no effort: First, you went to Dorothy ... but she’s officially just our legal department, then you turned to Gordon ... but he is Technical Operations Manager ... Now you are sitting here, which you wanted to prevent at all costs. I can only say: Nice try! It's best to try until one of the two parties gives up. If you want to work somewhere else in between or do nothing at all, that doesn’t matter. But I don't just give up on you; nobody does that here. You have something that can't be bought on the next corner, and I don't begrudge any other employer! You are completely crazy and belong here ... only here! And I will not stand on the next corner looking for a replacement for you! People know that I'm crazy myself, without me having to do that! But I promise to tell every employer who wants to listen or not, how crazy you are ... and now: do what you want, I have some work too, Cockney!« ... - »Hey, Sir Kraut! ... You're not serious about tattling, are you?« – »Yes, if you don't stop spinning!« With these words, Sir Kraut left the office.

Arthur had appeared in a good mood at the pub and told Dorothy about Becky's failed dismissal. At least that's the short form of what happened. Dorothy had immediately questioned him after his appearance, and in the certainty of the inevitable, he had entered the lioness's den to get it over with as quickly as possible. He had also expected the clamor that followed and, pursued by the angry pub boss, went behind the bar and grabbed a pad and pen which could always be found there. Now he stood right next to the beer dispenser and took notes, nodding friendly like a bartender taking orders from the waitress on the other side. Only the background noise that Dorothy produced did not match the typical scene. Arthur repeated in bullet points while writing, and talking in an approving tone: »Insidious tyrant, Stone Age capitalist, anarchist ... »Anarchist?« ... who of us is not an anarchist?« ... When Dorothy ran out of insults, the end of her lecture was slowly reached: »And stop grinning so dirty, what at all are you doing behind my Bar, and what are you doodling on my notepad?« Arthur cheerfully raised his head in the direction of the legal department: »I need this for my memoirs ... and for your information! If I had tacitly accepted Becky's departure from the Classics, you would have thrown the same thing at me except ... Yes, here: »being encroaching«! There would have been no reason for that! ... The rest would have sounded the same. The only difference would be: You would have meant it in that case!« Arthur threw the pad on the counter and left whistling. Through the open door, the sound of two drumming fists on teak came outside. In front of the pub, Bob was bulging the fender on Debbie's car with a rubber mallet. Arthur's request: »Can you lend it to the Doctor, next?« made Bob curious, and he immediately set off but flew out of the pub just as quickly as he had walked in, accompanied by her shouting: »Get out of here!« Bob looked back and forth between the pub door and Arthur, uncertain: »Did you want to fool me? ... what's wrong with the Queen?!« – »She'll calm down right away!« As Arthur re-entered the Power Slide Inn, Cockney slipped in next, stepped in his way, and kissed him on the cheek. Bob heard the Queen shouting behind him: »Bob! Bohob!! ... Fuck! ... Then keep your stupid hammer!« He turned around and shouted, »If a queen demands things from the people that they do not want, then she ceases to be a queen!« Dorothy put her fists on her hips: »Then tell me what I demand, you smart guy!« Bob crouched down and looked at the fender again: »It's your right not to know what you want, your problem is: you want it right away!« Bob now watched in amazement at the scene as Dorothy was spontaneously hugged comfortingly first by Arthur, then by Becky; he joined Debbie, who, of course, had not missed the whole thing: »They're crazy!« Debbie turned up her nose at him: »You have no idea how to deal with Queens!« – »Well, you're an anarchist!« – »Does that mean: I'm not your queen?« – »Of course, you're my queen too, if you need that! But believe me: life's hours of sunshine are a gift! Demanding them destroys their splendor.« As he tapped his forehead briefly on his way to the work hall, he heard Debbie’s, »I saw that!« A little further back, the Queen shouted: »I only demand that you get along with each other!«, and Export Becky got back to her best: »With a little less machismo, it may work!« - »Yes, it has to be machismo again! And if it is not this, then it’s something else!«, Bob called out.

The Queen condemned all present people and herself to an early atoning drink ... »because of having done wrong to each other«. Standing behind the bar, she reacted, laughing, to the call »Down with the Queen!« by raising her glass and shouting: »Down with the People!« Then, everybody stormed the guest room and kitchen ... to do the cleaning up of the early morning bed and breakfast business. The »Children« had to go their studying, and Giacomo and Gianna had done their work from the early evening to late night, yesterday ... Debbie’s opinion: »Probably the common working time for Italian serving staff« got Becky’s reply: »Working in the late morning is not bad either for the Brits!« Even Arthur had to laugh as Becky now turned to him: »I knew, you would not dare to let me go!« and answered: »Next time I will surprise you!« Debbie hugged Bob again, and he reacted: »When will the day come that I understand you crazy folks?«#

The longed-for weekend had come! At Thruxton Circuit, the devil was on the loose. »The devil« meant: half Popplebush, all of New Popplebush, the team of Weissach, and the Eifel. Sally had her Marius back, and she was sure to take him to her house this time. She laughed about herself, having just wondered if she would have to carry him over the threshold. Denise played with her new toy, sawed around the circuit a few times, and was now talking to Zange about the suspension settings again. Arthur unloaded the B16 with Bill and Taffy, and he was glad they had not been noticed yet. They pushed the car into the box from behind, and had not opened the gate to the pit lane yet. Angus rummaged through a pile of paper and inspected the Technology: »Type?« – »Spider!« – »Year of construction?« – »69!« – »Motor?« – »Cossie, but is a Three Liter ...!« – »Does not matter, as long as under 4,5 ...: Year of construction?« – »1973, is an ex-Steward ... F1!« – »OK: you may do that!« Arthur was satisfied, and his people threw themselves into the hustle and bustle of the fair. Now he stood alone and thoughtful in front of the racing sports car of a glorious era ... – »Do biss dä Hätzebrenner?« Arthur turned around: »And you are probably not Sally, who tries to make fun of me ...« The girl behaved as insecure as he, even despite her rough acting: »And what will we do now ... say: hello!?« They hugged; ... after that, she looked into his eyes: »How does that feel?« – »I ... I feel scared ...« – »Why?« – »You know why! I’m just what you called me ... That’s the nature of cowards!« – »Oh no, I did not mean that! ... sorry! ... It’s only because ... I’m feeling the same!« They hugged again but felt saved by the bell on Gordon’s storming in and grabbing a helmet: »I may drive a Racing-Carrera!« The two got horrified: »Watt iss loos? Dä Boss iss jeck ... mach mer bloss nix kapott!« – »What are you doing ... you can drive the fastest B16 and ... ?« But Gordon was in the mood: »Arthur, driving such a GT, I will not get a second chance for that!« ... And off he went ... »Who was this?« – »That’s our Technical Director ... you better instruct him if you want to save your car!«

Denise hurried up but stopped when she met Sally on her way, pointing to the boy with the helmet in his hand: »What is his name ... Is he single?« Sally smiled: »His name is Gordon ... I think he is single.« – »He’s cute ... see you later!« Sally entered the box: »Hi Dad! ... Nice car!« Arthur looked proud: »That’s our next strategy against Rob van Leuven: Three liters Cosworth ... The spare engine of Steward’s Tyrrell 1973 ... Must be handled with care!« – »May I?« Arthur thought of Gordon’s betrayal and was glad to have found the right one for the right answer. He knew that she was a safe driver because he did not know what had happened at her last stint in the Eifel: »Okay, but be careful!« Bill appeared, on cue, to provide his protégé with everything she needed for the start. The last piece of advice could not be missing: »Stay healthy and don't make yourself ... Nonsense: don't make me unhappy!«

Gordon and the Proske had left the pits before Denise could give him instructions, but did not drive badly and improved slightly from lap to lap. He hadn't come close to her lap times, but he wasn't a pro either. He knew that the rear-swinger should not be challenged without some experience; all the more, he was pleased with the numbers on the scoreboard. In the end, he had come close to the time of the B8 of Sally, alias Denise, even though her stint had been very short. Sally, of course, carefully sounded out the bigger Chevron, too. The B16 had been a successful sports car. At that time, a much smaller engine had been working, usually with 1800 cc in the rear. There were also some with two-liter BMW machines. Brian Redman had even won the 500-kilometer Race at the Nürburgring in 1969 with a 1600 cc Cosworth. She tested cornering stability, always ready to react to sudden sliding. But the chassis made an amazingly stable impression. The car had incredible potential, certainly also the merit of the Orchid people. Marius stood with Denise in Angus’s pulpit and watched the actions of the beautiful young timer. – »What is your sister doing? It looks strange ... brisk driving is different, isn't it?« While Marius philosophized about observed driving styles, Denise saw the B16 braking into the chicane before the finish line: »Wat dee maht? ... em Momang lässts de Sau russ! (She’s going to let the pig out)« With an infernal shout, a green arrow shot by below the pulpit ...

Gordon was overjoyed. He had managed to do some good laps and rolled out in the pit lane. His time had even elicited Angus to a comment: »The rascal has talent!«

Sally had nearly reached the time of Denise’s Carrera on her first flying lap, and the second felt even better. So, she stopped pushing and decided to return to the pits. This car was no GT ... it was a super light, disguised formula racer, and now she expected some trouble ahead. Denise was the first at the B16: »A fine thing! You know that I have some extra work now, you bloody bitch! Un packs do datt jrööne Hoppekraat noch ens an, möjelich, datteret kriss (don’t touch this fucking green frog again!)« Then she took her sister into her arms at the same time: »You are great, we must have a team! ... and we call ourselves: »The Flea Circus!« Sally laughed: »Be happy that you have no extra competitor ... I will drive no races and won’t lose my self-control again. Our fight on the Nürburgring will be a warning for my future.« – »So! And what will be your next challenge ... obviously: getting married and having children?« Sally’s face got serious. She turned to Marius, who had joined them, and taking his hand, she was surprised by her own words: »Why not? It’s a respectable decision made by me! I only hope to be brave enough for that because it’s not a game, this time!« This came fast for Marius ... but not too fast. He looked into her eyes with a poker face, not saying a word but putting both hands in his trouser pockets. Slowly, one of his hands moved and pulled out a small box. It was the most romantic scene so far in Sarah Rubenstein’s life. The poker face gently slid the ring to her finger, and only asked: »Are you brave enough for this here and now?« ... Factor »Time« was out of order once again ...

The greatest moments always get destroyed by troublemakers. And this troublemaker was Gordon: »I was faster than van Leuven and nearly as fast as the B8!« And it was Angus who finally conjured up everyday life: »There’s nothing special if a modern car beats another, ... and this is not a challenge for Orchid drivers but Orchid cars! Our champion is the B16!« Gordon looked at Sally and played the jealous one: »And that’s only because of my chassis improvement!« - »That’s your rear suspension? Congratulations!« Denise had also freed herself from her emotional paralysis. Suddenly, she stood in front of him and reached out her hand: »Hi Gordon, I am Denise, as you know!« Gordon hesitantly took her hand ... he was trying to say something, but that did not work. Finally, he was only able to say: »I ... I’m in a hurry, sorry!« ... - »Hey, Mitzjer!« ... He stopped escaping and turned around: Everyone stood in front of the box, the same as he had left them, watching him leave. He did not immediately notice that one was missing, ... no wonder, there had been two, which looked identical! Gordon looked in the direction the voice was coming from. He only had to lower his head a little to recognize Denise, who was directly in front of him, and continued to speak: »Doran weers disch jewönne möss: wänn’s misch verlässt, jeh isch mett (You won’t get rid of me this way, and if you leave me, I come with you)!«#

The show was over, Denise had finally reached her best time, and nobody had moved the scary »Green Frog« again. Arthur was satisfied with the result anyway, and Gordon suddenly had completely different interests: he was almost glued to the little »Radauhexe« ... This word he had taken from Sally’s talking. Everything at the racetrack now had to be collected, and Dorothy had already climbed onto her cleaning machine when Arthur’s view caught the silver shining silhouette of a historic motorbike. He hit his forehead: »I forgot the Reverend!« The biker stood together with the twins, and of course, Denise joked, »Isn’t it a little far from Memphis, Reverend Greene?« – »Not for Father, Son, Holy Ghost, and »Unapproachable Norton«!« Arthur joined: »Sorry, Reverend, I forgot the inspection appointment for your motorcycle ... so you did not meet anyone in the village!« The clergyman looked happily at the girls: »Don’t worry, I met this divine wonder!«

Taffy took advantage and jumped on the unapproachable bike for a ride to the Orchids. Gordon was busy supporting Bill, and Arthur entered the Spitfire to drive home Reverend Greene. For a moment, the racers were alone: »I heard you calling him »Dad« ... I couldn’t ... it was a strange situation, and I messed it up! Are you sure that he is our father at all?« Sally answered hesitantly: »I think it matches ... if we count everything together!« – »I cannot count together what probably doesn’t belong together! Maybe our mother wanted to protect us, but she also might have only protected her project! And what does »Mother« mean? ... There are more options if you think in the worst case. Perhaps we are kind of zombies, and you just helped a perverted scientist take revenge on an accomplice ... In the end, he is a sleeper and bombs us out next! I tell you something: You have parents who love you, and I have my dear grandparents who won’t mind being your grandparents as well. Let us love them, and that will do! I can be happy to have lost only my voice for a year ... I could have gone blind and deaf the same, as »Tommy« by the Who!« Both women were close to tears and hugged each other. Sally was the first to find her voice: »Of course, we have our loving people who brought us up, and at least we have the chance to collect our common family ... but that does not do: I want to know the truth, and if we are products, we at least know the producer. Charlotte took Arthur’s memory, and she took your memory. Perhaps I was luckier having been too young when she gave me away ...« Saying this, she let one hand slide into her jeans pocket to caress a silver medal secretly, while she was talking further: »But I promise: next, she will have to tell us every name of our other parents, if not the complete staff of a fucking lab!« Denise was surprised by Sarah’s words. They seemed to confirm her suspicions, now. Why had her clever sister suddenly become insecure? Indeed, Sarah had not lost a word about her trip to London yesterday; a trip, together with John, to this office, where women and men in civil clothes saluted a simple constable, and called him »Sir!«. This went differently after they had reached the last door: John said »Madam!«, and the woman behind the desk reacted: »Professor!« ... At the meeting’s end, Sarah had received condolences on her mother’s death and the advice to let the dead rest in peace! At first moment she had called this a bad joke, causing no fun!#

The Reverend was happy about the tour in the open roadster, but declined to drive himself because of the steering wheel on the left side. However, they only got as far as the main road. Then it began to pour like buckets, and the soft top had to be closed. But the man of God even enjoyed this: »You must know, in such weather and in such a car, I met my wife. Since then, rain can no longer dampen my mood!« Arthur congratulated him and asked, »How many years have you been enjoying this weather now?« – »It will be eighteen years this autumn!« The Reverend said this in a proud voice. Arthur was impressed by the optimism that Greene seemed to radiate, and he wanted to say something nice to him: »Who would have believed a small car having this philosophical potential!« But he should regret that! His passenger reacted to the cue: »Do you love philosophy?« Arthur looked aside briefly but uncertainly: »Oh, I'm not a smart man, you know ... but if I take your question literally, I must admit that we are all so vain to justify ourselves with elegant words that someone else has come up with. That's what it means: to love philosophy.« Arthur felt compelled to explain his words in more detail, but cursing himself for it at the same time: »The first to call himself a philosopher was Pythagoras. His predecessors were called »Sophos«, which means: wise. God was for him a mathematician, and he saw himself as a demigod. It was his simple conclusion: Angles, triangles, and area calculation in context, no one else was interested in this! And so, he was now someone who loved wisdom. For me, there is something self-treacherous about that. If I now love to love wisdom, then I'm just a lover of beautiful words ... Sorry, I can't explain it better.« The clergyman was amazed: »But don't Pythagoras, Plato, and Socrates teach us many things that can make us a little wise and perhaps happy?« Arthur did not understand; his worldview was simply different: »You rightly mentioned Plato before Socrates, because without Plato, we might not know anything about Socrates. He never wrote anything down. That's what his student Plato did: He despised women, considering them good enough to bear and raise children. So not only did he understand nothing of the most important stage of development of a human being and the most important philosophy of all, namely, motherly love, but he also dared to value half of humanity less because of their sex. That means for me: to deny the human origin of himself. What am I to learn from such an ignoramus who regarded war as indispensable for human development and whose social thinking came from Democritus, whom he brazenly copied, and demanded the burning of his books at the same time? The depiction of his teacher Socrates and his wife Xanthippe gets something very Plato-specific this way ... The results of any propaganda are similar: in the end, there are no more fine words left after all, no matter if they come from Plato or St. Peter, who was also such a devious sexist!« Greene asked: »You consider motherly love to be the highest philosophy? Then you must have been loved very much by your mother!« Arthur paused ... »That would be one possibility! The other is: that I have missed nothing more in my life than this love, which is not to say that I miss my mother! Even if you call it a sin, I would rather miss her than remember her. She stole our childhood, and if you weren't allowed to be a real child, you can't be a real man!« On Greene's timid question: »Who is this from: Alice Schwarzer?«, there was a scathing side glance from Arthur. That could have meant a lot. As a precaution, the Reverend interpreted the look as: »No!« or: »I don't know!« ... he preferred to be satisfied with the answer. He became uncomfortable, having not expected such a conversation. Whatever he had wanted to address, it probably would not work. »When did you lose your mother?« - »You mean, as she changed into a monster? ... I cannot remember her being something else ever!« - »No, I meant: Have you still been a child when she died?« - »She’s still alive, still fighting the rest of the world, still moaning about having lost her best years by losing the World War! ... And if this was bad English, I try to say it better: My mother is convinced of being a good Christian who cannot believe to have lost a just war!« ... Greene’s diplomacy was at its end: »Arthur, I have to be honest with you: My inspection appointment for the Norton is on Monday ... I only wanted to talk to you.« Arthur's reaction to the priest's confession was another darkly questioning look in Greene's direction. The Reverend seemed very serious as if a heavy burden weighed on him: »The two racers ... they are Charlotte Schaffrath's girls? ... Oh, my God!!!« Arthur had briefly lost control of the car, but could finally catch it. Now he steered onto a dirt road and stopped there. He didn't need to ask anything because the man next to him explained: »Charlotte was a pious woman, ... well, she grew up in the Eifel ... She came to me. After all, she needed someone to talk to.« He saw Arthur's startled face and hurried, »No, I'm not breaking the secrecy of confession, ... it had not been confession! ... She even asked me for my help!« Arthur was breathless: »She asked you for help, but you concealed the whole thing ...?!« – »No, no! ... I shouldn't say anything at that time, now she wants my help!« Arthur burst the collar: »Reverend Greene! I have always liked to see you, as long as you spared me with such sermons, but now I ask for plain language! Tell me finally what's being played here, we haven't gathered in Memphis to eat catfish!« Arthur felt distracted by a song (Walking in Memphis, Marc Cohn, 1991). The clergyman, having the same thought, was grateful for this little change. But he had a mission, even though it was a mess because of his clumsiness: »She loves you, Arthur ... I am convinced that she loves you ... with all her heart.« Arthur was stunned: »Well, she was able to hide that well all these many years ... she even left me alone with her death!« – »She thought you could get over it ... there was no other option for her: The children were in grave danger because of these researchers! Stand upon your misfortune so, to stand higher!« For Arthur, the moment had come to take revenge for the »Alice Schwarzer – Question«: »Who said that: Joseph Goebbels?« That was unfair, and Arthur suspected it ... at least, after Greene’s answer: »No, it was Holderlin ... and ... and I think your quote about the child and the man was by him too.« ... Holderlin? ... Arthur had heard such a word before ... but in a different context ... Hölderlin! ... hadn't John yodeled in Adenau? What did this expression stand for, which did not sound British and probably also varied in pronunciation? Or was that because Greene could not speak German? ... Greene interrupted Arthur's thought by simply continuing, »If ... if you faced her now, what would you do?« The words had come out of Greene, like out of a pile of misery. In Arthur’s mind, the sympathy he had always felt for him slowly grew back. But he didn't think twice about answering: »I would say to her that I'm glad she's doing well, and that I've been grieving for her for a long time ... Then I would turn around to leave...« – »Where would you go?« – »I don't know, but I think: there, wherever she isn't.« – »So, you would leave paradise just because you have a problem with one single Angel?« – »If you're a poor devil, it's not so hard to leave paradise.« – »*You can't just tear a whole chapter of your life the same as out of a book!« – »No, but »*I can throw the whole book into the fire and start over! (*George Sand, story: Mauprat,1837)« – »Too late! Others have co-written it, and at least three copies of it are left. The owners of these specimens will remember this chapter and look it up ... Do you want to miss it ... keeping withdrawn into your pain because you are used to it, and giving you the impression of security? You forget the pain of others!« It became quiet under the vinyl roof. Something worked in Arthur. Now he looked at Greene again: »What should happen now: does she want to meet me?« – »I don't know ...« – »Hey, God's man! Tell me the truth, enough is enough!« – »She ... but she didn't tell me! ... I can't help it, old boy!« – »With what name did she contact you, I assume not Thelma Moore?« – »Sabrina! She is now called »Sabrina Päffgen!« – »Well, at least she has remained true to her roots ...« – »Oh, that's all because of this job! Earning a living can ruin your whole life. How many people lose themselves just because they're doing the wrong job? It starts with the fact that you have to leave your homeland, and in the end, you are a different person ... Maybe it's the other way around with her, and she has changed places and identities to remain herself!« Arthur had to laugh: »Of course! The CIA is the purest charity. I want to have your imagination, Pastor!« Even the clergyman had to laugh now. He held out his hand to Arthur, »My name is Alistair!« Handshaking, Arthur had to laugh again: »Allister? ... that's the name of Queen Dorothy’s cat!« Alistair looked cheerful as if a burden had been lifted from him: »Dorothy! ... well, I realize a lot: »The Wizard of Oz«! The heroine with her bizarre friends ... What role do you play?« Arthur gladly accepted the distraction of his new friend: »Don't ask so hypocritically, you know that very well: the scarecrow, of course, who would love to have heart, mind, and courage!« – »But that's not how the story goes ...« – »Maybe it was told wrong?« – »Or, you got it wrong!«

They were on the road again, and nothing else happened, even though Arthur firmly expected that any moment the sky would fall on his head or the Hell mouth would open in front of them. Finally, they reached Greene’s house. Before his guest left the car, however, Arthur had a last question: »If you had wanted to talk to me, ... that would have been difficult with the top open ... What would you have done if it hadn't started raining?« The friend shook his hand in farewell: »Yes, ... Then I really should have come up with something else!« - »So you chose to make rain instead of doing something worse ... I thank you !« The only one to laugh was Greene.

Arthur still watched the friend entering his house and waving with a smile, and he did not know if he was his friend. Even though the conversation was over, it was still raining cats and dogs ... Was this necessary? He looked around the tight cockpit of the roadster from a special view. He had loved this narrowness, always feeling comfortable. This homeliness had lost its innocence at the moment, and he didn't know if it would regain it sometime. »Sometime«, when was it? ... How long does it take to reach the point »Sometime«? Did the movie in which he had some walk-on part come to an end, and was »Sometime« just the credits? Arthur started the engine again and wondered if this action was a decision by himself or the director. He turned the vehicle and slowly left the property through an old gate, of which only the brick pillars were still standing. Everything looked romantic and matched the skillfully overgrown front garden and the cobblestone driveway. His eyes were looking for the Archangel Gabriel, who had to be hanging around somewhere in front of the gate. Especially with this dark, rainy weather, the fiery tail of his sword would betray him from afar. A tractor had instead come from the side street behind the pastor's house onto the main road and was just going to pass the driveway where Arthur had stopped as its Engine rattle suddenly died and made it stand still directly in front of the Spitfire. The driver wore a rain cape with a waterproof hat and looked like a coastal fisherman fiddling with his boat. Arthur wondered if Charon looked like that. He left the car and joined Charon ... Everything was so unreal.

He tried to understand his situation: he had lost the car because something had frightened him. That was the reality! He could still remember that the Reverend had invoked his God. Where was Greene? ... Well, he was probably already in heaven. It felt strange in this in-between world. He felt no pain. The only thing that was real here could only be his fantasizing. At least he hoped that it was his fantasy, because if he had to go to the afterlife, then not with perceptions manipulated by others. The woman next to him in the passenger seat had suddenly been there as he entered the car again. If this had been a real situation, he would have believed in a Déjà vu because Thelma was sitting in his yellow Spitfire like years before, and she looked the same. Slowly, he recognized her real age ... »Real age?« He did not know what she looked like now, and this whole situation was unreal, including the Déjà vu. He heard them talking to each other: »Drive or go wherever you want, I'll follow you to the end of the world ... and if you leave me, I'll come with you!« – »Funny, I've heard that before. Is that your family motto with the Päffgens?« Had he said »Päffgens«? Charon had continued to drive in the other direction, and Arthur said something funny: »If you don’t do everything yourself ...« But he didn't know if they were really on the Styx ... In this rain, every street looked like a river. He was tormented by the thoughts: the worst thing would be if he woke up somewhere in an ambulance, with broken limbs or even missing extremities. Maybe someone would shout at him to lie down again; maybe he had human lives on his conscience. Sabrina looked at him: »What about you?« – »I ... I'm frightened!« – »Before what?« – »Before what happened ... with me and the Reverend ...« – »You brought him home just before I sneaked into your car!« – »Yes, that's clear ... But that's not real, my subconscious is just fooling me ... you're not real either! You're dead, and maybe so am I ...« - »Arthur, please drive to the side and stop!« Arthur again chose a dirt road and turned off the engine. He took a deep breath. Sabrina looked at him helplessly; she tried to reach him somehow: »Please believe me, I'm real! ... I ... I can understand if you can't forgive me, ... I can't ask you for that!« ... Arthur refused to look into her face. Too many questions tortured his head. It was too difficult to choose the right one: ... »Was Greene privy to the tractor incident and your raid on the Spitfire?« She was glad he had said something: »Of course not, poor guy! He probably really had to suffer too ... I think he's very similar to you, just not as distrustful ...« Arthur laughed: »If you've been fooled long enough, then categorical distrust of the people comes naturally. A good pastor has it easier. Naivety is expected of him if he is not a liar. And sometimes, even those who don’t believe in anything need someone to trust. That is what the base of the Church means. That's what their reputation stems from. But every next level means business and politics at their worst, selling human trust for keeping an inhuman world order. Do you think that Jesus Christ was killed by pious Jews? I think they were godless Prussians!« Sabrina looked at him, straight into his face: »Greene is not a jerk! He has the philosophical naivety of a philanthropist and thinks that even if no God exists, there is still a longing for him, and he does not want to deny his support to those who yearn. He would even lie to them if he knew that God was an asshole. His motto is: »What does it help an atheist if he finds out in the end that he was right?!« Arthur wanted to start the engine again, saying: »Okay, Madam American Kierkegaard: I’m not in the religious mood ... it’s more the aesthetic one, managing my psychosis!« Before he could turn the ignition key, she left the car and now stood next to the bonnet, raising her arms: »You have to help yourself out of your psychosis! Come, and feel reality, feel me standing in the pouring rain!«

He did not know how long he had been standing in her arms ... the wet clothes were no proof; that had already happened at the Charon scene. Now on the road again, he switched on the heater and looked shortly at her: »What are you going to do now?« – »I want to spend the rest of my life with my children and you ... if you take me back!« - »Does the CIA allow this?« - »I left the CIA.« - »Is that possible?« - »Yes, when you’re dead!« - »I was right: you’re dead after all, ... once again! ... And you think they believe this?« - »They managed this! My scientific knowledge is outdated; they do not need to protect me further.« - »You mean, the observation of your person is no longer needed, ... and that’s what you believe?« - »I get protection from the MI-5 now.« - »Hark!« - »... Protection by Duncan Webster!« Arthur was horrified: »You and John had been in contact all these years!?« - »Professor Adams and Professor Webster had been in contact, we never met! ... And now, Constable Davenport expects Sabrina Päffgen at the moment, even though he will be able to count things together, now. Everything else is to be cleared later ... my hidden past, and his hidden information about New Popplebush all the time; ... hidden from me!« She had looked down at her feet with her words. Arthur reacted with a suspicious look: »You spared no effort to have the girls here and will have to make them stay either ... why New Popplebush? This village lives from yesterday, and that’s what we are! I cannot even understand why the CIA still keeps an eye on us Hillbillies; we don’t represent anything about world standards!« – »That’s the point! World policy means an old order getting into conflict with a new pace. Abraham Lincoln said: »You can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people, some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time«. Lincoln actually was a yesterday’s statesman before he changed into a today’s saint. Taking his words seriously means one more option of interpreting Bob Dylan, singing: »*The saints are coming through (*song: It’s All Over Now Baby Blue, 1965). Betraying most people for some time was good enough as long as the ways for messages took some time. Now the governments need more than only »some people they can fool all of the time« ... On the other hand, there must remain enough folks for a backup, to prevent mankind from ending up with a world of idiots. The CIA observes and supports your village and other communes that still raise free-spirited children and have their special ways of reacting to this world order without disturbing.« - »And if they disturb?« - »The consequence of disturbing at the wrong time means to be ignored or worse: their career will be stalled without them knowing why. A free culture, including anarchistic artists, was good in the past, but not for the present time. It has to be controlled, and a special tool exists for that. It’s called »Cancel Culture« and means to protect our nations against any anti-democratic influence. But you can call it »Modern Inquisition« as well.« - »And how should this new culture manipulate this big world?« - »By an international network of ethic-commissions ... and in your case: A functioning EU! Soon, every language will be cleaned up: Using no wrong words in the present means having no criminal minds in the future!« - »And how do they control the hunger in this world: Having nothing to eat means having nothing to fuck in the present and no poor children in the future? Every forced culture is a document of barbarism, even at its highest stand: Now, they even abuse this old Chinese word for their disguised tyranny without respecting it themselves: »Mind your thoughts for they will become your words; mind your words for they will become your actions; mind your actions for they will become your habits; mind your habits for they will become your character; mind your character for it becomes your destiny.« - »That’s not Chinese, I know this from the Talmud!« - »Whoever put it in, the official Author is Charles Reade, and that writer loved Chinese aphorisms!« - »It does not matter as long it is useful, does it?« Arthur nodded slowly but worried: »This cannot be a new strategy if your World-StaSi has been looking after us for so many years, whether we are privileged or not! And how did they discover our village of the crazy at all ... because of a suspect airplane engineer? It must have been a much longer time ago!« She wanted to be honest, knowing there was nothing left to lose: »After the War, some of Winnie’s Special Operations Executive officers still held contact with the former fighters of the »French Resistance« and even gave them new homes. They had believed in a better world with a changed order after this terrible time. But above all, America refused to give up the Prussian methods to reach fast, successful results. They wanted to have a strong Germany again as a partner against the Soviets. That meant: All civilized progress was destroyed by the poisoned minds of defeated barbarians because the banality of evil is nothing but a simple contagious disease ... Those post-war-barbarian influencers were the former Nazi stars Hans Globke and Reinhard Gehlen, both working for Adenauer and the CIA as well. The following organization was called »BND«. Having been outvoted by the Allies, the former SOE leaders at least tried to protect their friends by giving them sanctuaries for their dreams of freedom, far away from the big cities. The first came to Hampshire in 1945, Chelsea and Walter Alington settled in the late fifties when New Popplebush was only a few houses, near a bus stop and an old farm.« - »But, what about international secret services and keeping the World Order? The current situation looks like losing control!« - »It’s not a question of how they are losing control, but how they are involved. Because of the BND and CIA, Western spy organizations have been aware of most international action since 1970. Germany had started »Operation Thesaurus« by selling an anti-spyware program to other regimes, which was written by the Swiss Crypto AG and manipulated by the Siemens concern«. - »How could that work?« - »BND and CIA had bought Crypto AG! ... It was a lucky deal: the owner wanted to retire, and his son had a fatal car accident.«

He felt uncomfortable, and she guessed why. It had not been her horror story about a fucking world order; it had been her mistake of mentioning this Bob Dylan song! Smart people had always tried to explain this text or better: they had tried to decipher a row of bizarre images, created in Dylan’s typical way; still, it was a simple fact for them both: Arthur had been the crying orphan, the street painter who finally could only draw crazy patterns, the lover who had collected his blankets, and the vagabond, still wearing the outfit of their common past. ... It had been a few words but trigger words: »The saints are coming through«! Now she had to suffer, finding herself in this song: She once had grabbed her things fast, if they were worth it or not, the ground had moved, and the sky had fallen on her; but the worst thing was: she had left more orphans behind. She was Baby Blue ... Arthur had finished thinking about a woman who had struck another match and started something new. His problem was not whether her information about this world was pragmatic or pure cynicism. His problem was his mood: For him, this lovely face was manipulative up to the tips of her hair, and meeting her again was the culmination of a horrible journey through time that had begun only a few kilometers ago in the sunshine of Thruxton Circuit. Probably there was no objective reality; nevertheless, they faced a common destiny here and now ... too much to process all at once. He only wished to reach the village soon.#

The residents of New Popplebush knew how to celebrate weekends without wasting much time. Having enjoyed the circus performance at Thruxton until the early afternoon, now a cinema in the pub was announced to them. The children's cinema had given an old Walt Disney cartoon, and the CC Club was now invited to something of a different kind of nostalgia. The idea fell back on Arthur, who had always raved about the »Kamera«, the small cinema in Bielefeld, where regular classics of film art were shown. When »Once Upon a Time in the West« was shown for the first time at the Power Slide Inn, the »Claudia Cardinale Club« had been spontaneously founded. That had been long before Dorothy's and John's time, and Albert had founded this club the way clubs still are founded here today. Someone got enthusiastic about something and others showed solidarity, ... without statutes and paperwork, but with a lot of discussions. However, there was no football fan club, but sometimes they played for fun.

Dorothy was pleased that Albert himself was present today. The name of his accompaniment was Victoria. Debbie had remarked on something about the two and now complained about the cloth Dorothy had thrown; Dorothy defended herself by saying that it had been a very clean dish towel. Sarah called Denise something that sounded like »Rotzlöffel«, Dorothy said that she could have taken a fish as well. Debbie threatened Dorothy with a scathing article on the front page tomorrow! Bill shouted, »Lying press!« Bob had problems staying on the chair, laughing, and Dorothy ran into the kitchen. Marius and Gordon sat down between the sisters, and Dorothy stood in the open kitchen door, holding up a fish for everyone's laughter. Victoria accused Albert of having withheld such sympathetic people so far. There was Popcorn and various drinks. Bill drew the curtains, Angus operated the film projector, Gianna cuddled with Taffy before it got dark in the room, and Giacomo shared with Becky a pack of tissues and a bowl of popcorn, both of which were placed between their chairs. John hugged Dorothy with one arm, fended off Debbie with the other, and grinned. Tiffy threw popcorn at Eric. Bob wanted to know if he had ended up in a monkey circus. Denise asked if he didn't recognize his lady guard. Paul sat next to the teacher: »You know, Madame Rossignol ...« – »Mademoiselle, please!« – »Oh, with pleasure! Do you know, Mademoiselle Rossignol, as the children call you? »Florence Nightingale«! That's what my nephew said. I've always told him not to make up nicknames for respectable persons, but in this case ... It must have something to do with the sound of your voice ... by the way: does the name »Rossignol« have a special meaning in French? It sounds so musical!«

It had been raining all the time as the movie was playing, and Dorothy worried about Arthur, who still had not arrived home yet. Now she noticed the lights of a car shimmering through the curtains and got up to walk to the door. Arthur drove the car to the forecourt and stopped so that Sabrina could run the shortest way to the pub. So far, the car heater had prevented the worst, but the little woman was still soaked and should get into the warm room as soon as possible. The passenger door opened before Arthur could do that. He liked to do this for ladies, but Sabrina was not used to it. As she was about to make her way into the house, the entrance door opened, and loud music came out, and suddenly, two shots were fired. The agent flanked with a single jump over the Spitfire hood and supported herself only briefly on the top spar of the windshield. A voice murmured: »*Who are you?!« She crouched behind the front wheel of the car and held the unlocked Ruger over the hood: »I am Thelma Moore. Let the woman go!« A hand grabbed Dorothy from behind, pulling her into the house again. Now, a uniformed man, followed by another Ruger held by a small CIA agent, jumped out of the house, over the hedge into the beer garden, and covered behind the bushes. John shouted, »What do you want? Let the man go!« In the pub, a woman and a man were talking: »*Hey, you’re sort of a handsome man« – »*But I’m not the right man. And neither is he!« John came out from behind the hedge and stood at the entrance to the beer garden: »I'm unarmed!« Arthur crouched down next to Sabrina, stretched one raised hand with his fingers spread towards the hedge, while his other hand took the weapon carefully out of Sabrina’s hand. He locked it and gave it back: »May I introduce, Sabrina: that’s John, John: that’s Sabrina!« ... »*Maybe, but it doesn’t matter!« - »Can someone stop the fucking movie? ...« - »And that’s Dorothy!«

With another glass of whisky in her hand, Denise came slowly outside and wiped her eyes, watching the woman on the other side of the car: »Sinn de Jecke loos? Watt machse hinner datt jelbe Flunder ... ej, do biss jaarnit ... Hammse disch jenauso jekloont? (I’m fed up with that! Take your yellow time machine and get away, you’re not my age!«). From the hedge came: »Charlotte! ... Mum, is that you?« From the left corner of the house, someone shot into the air and shouted something in Italian. The right corner showed the same scene with a female voice. From the house came:»*You don’t understand, Jill. People like that have something inside, ... something to do with death!« A huge man left the pub, holding his belly: »Basta, stop it, I'm laughing to death! Can you crazy folks stop joking for once?« Sarah shouted: »Denise, Mum is there!« Eveline was talking to Angus: »It’s always the same: first come the protectors, then comes the violence!« – »Yes, just like a new motorway and the first traffic jam!« - »*Hey, Harmonica, when they do you in, pray, it's somebody who knows where to shoot! ... (*Once Upon a Time in the West, movie, Sergio Leone 1967)« John had to chase away an uninvited car driver: Cat Woman looked disappointed but took advantage to pose after bringing back the Land Rover. The girls hugged Mum, then each other, and next, everyone who stood around. – »No, Debby, pericoloso!« – »Shut up, Carrabinera, I want my photo now!« Someone asked for Arthur, and two backlights of a small sports car disappeared into the North.

Arthur listened to the music in his thoughts: Kevin Johnson’s »Sunday Roses from Monday Morning Dust«. Yes, he felt lost, ... and he did not want to be found. His old motto rose inside again. As a child, he had listened to the fairy tale for the first time. The donkey said: »Something better than death you can find anywhere!«#

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Many European schools are used to teaching children the historical facts of the French Revolution. A revolution that, apart from some cruel incidents, should be understood as a glorious example of democratic developments in a civilized world. And of course, there was always a plausible explanation for the initial difficulties of this process. So, schoolchildren are often released into this modern world with the knowledge of a currently defined freedom and sometimes, the official interpretations of Büchner’s »Danton’s Death«. Perhaps even today, some adults in this modern world would be surprised to hear that, after the revolution, France still had two kings and even two emperors: one who caused this historical regression and one at the end of it, but both were called Napoleon. And the emperor with the surname «Bonaparte» still represents national values today, along with the 14th of July and the claim that France has had the same national anthem since 1795. Having such different symbols of glory means not knowing or disregarding history, for instance, the destiny of the Paris Commune at the end of the last French Empire had never become a memorable fact.

The fact that Chelsea Alington spoke surprisingly good French for a British person did not surprise anyone in the village, as far as they were informed about her past in the French Resistance. Even during Walter's lifetime, both had the nickname »The French« with all due respect. If Mrs. Alington still spoke French now, then she had a visit from Mademoiselle Rossignol, or the time had come again! But then she did not speak, then she sang in French. She put on an old record and joined the choir. It was a song that dealt solely with the horrors of the Nazi regime in France; yes, it could not have been about anything else. That would have been clear to all those who are not French or even familiar with historic national lyrics, but at least could understand this text. It may be questionable if such people exist. For everyone else, it's just the «Marseillaise», and her history is much older. She was written on the occasion of the declaration of war against Austria in April 1792 in honor of the commander of the Royal French Army of the Rhine. Yes, the term »Rhine Army« is also much older than one thinks, and their commander at that time was Count Luckner from Cham in the Bavarian »Oberpfalz«. The name Marseillaise emerged after July 30 of the same year, when sung by soldiers from Marseille marching through Paris, shortly before the storming of the Tuileries. Sometimes, great misunderstandings lead to great careers!  It was «Chant National» from July 14, 1795, to July 14, 1800, and it has been the current national anthem again, since 1879, in the Third French Republic, because there were no kings or emperors left who had to fear any Jacobins. Of course, the Vichy regime of 1940 to 1945 had also tried to set something different in its place ... But, back to 1792: This campaign against Austria was already the First War of the Coalition, i.e., a war against the monarchies that had allied themselves against revolutionary France. But Louis XVI, in the third year after the fall of the Bastille, had not been officially deposed and even had to sign this declaration of war. So, on paper, it was still a war between monarchies, which justifies the claims that the Coalition Wars are also known as the Napoleonic Wars, ... the first one did not count. «Allons enfants de la Patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrivé! Contre nous de la tyrannie, L'étendard sanglant est levé» ... Of course, Chelsea knew the connections! But she also knew her past, and so, she sang with full conviction: «L’étendard sanglant est levé!»

Natalie Wimille had joined the Special Operations Executive under the alias «Ariane» after she had already lost her family to the Gestapo when she was recruited in Paris and trained in London. «Entendez-vous dans les campagnes Mugir ces féroces soldats?» ... Near Nantes, her group flew up, and she was able to flee together with a comrade. The other friends had been caught and suddenly disappeared: Denise Bloch, Robert Benoist, William Grover Williams ... «Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras» ... The young boy also had no one left. «Égorger vos fils, vos compagnes!» ...

If someone had been standing in Chelsea Alington's garden now and familiar with the musical ceremony, it was clear that everything sounded different today: Did Mrs. Alington have a new record? No: She was not singing alone together with the choir, and some of the voices had an accent: «Aux armes, citoyens, formez vos bataillons, Marchons, marchons! Qu’un sang impur Abreuve nos sillons!»

Before they sat down again, they raised their glasses to each other: «À votre santé, Maman!» – «À votre santé, mon cher fils!» With a loving smile, Ariane changed her gaze from her child back to the group: »Cheerio, brothers and sisters of the Resistance, here, and wherever you are!« The echo sounded respectfully and multilingually. Angus looked respectfully and thoughtfully over at his mother, right next to him. In public, he never called her that; she was »Mrs. Arlington« for him as for everyone else. The family had to do this high and holy promise; otherwise, their friends would not have been able to protect them ... before the French, Belgian, British, and Swedish secret services.

Angus had often wondered when De Gaulle had become a Gaullist, or if it was just his true face. He and his highly decorated friends were the heroes of the French Resistance in World War II. After that, the Fourth and Fifth Republics showed signs of the worst decadence in the case of colonial rule. The 10th Paratrooper Division under General Jacques Massu, a close ally of De Gaulle during the French Resistance, was always regarded as particularly brutal and inhuman, whether in Indochina, Egypt, or Algeria. They had a free hand. Later, in nineteen-sixty-eight, De Gaulle was seen as a dog that peed on the pavement under which the student movement suspected the beach. But in the first years after the War, things seemed different in France. Angus was still allowed to call his parents that way in public. It had even benefited him, and he had begun a military career full of confidence in a just state. Lieutenant de L’Armée de L’Air Frédéric Doucaroux, the adopted son of Gilbert and Natalie Doucaroux, two heroes of France and still in the service of the Grande Nation, until ... until the disputes with the superiors in the «SDECE» became more frequent and clearer. He could still remember the discussion in which his mother shouted at a visitor: »Algerian freedom fighters do nothing else but what we did when our country was occupied!« ... A few days later, a car stopped at their house to take them to Orly and the plane for Algiers, but his parents were already on their way to London, and he had become the son of traitors overnight. His career now took a significant turn. Years later, he should have gotten »another chance«. He was sent to Belgium, where he was to receive further instructions. After he had received those instructions, he did not board the plane bound for Katanga, but a fishing boat to England, the night before. Around the year 1960, the covert political enterprises of the civilized world had multiplied. In Africa, after all, it was about humanistic goals: The mineral resources and the cultivation of exclusive food. So, one had to switch from primitive claims to power, to diplomatic influence, with the result that the barbaric manslaughter took place where the world public could not see through it so quickly. This worked excellently as long as there was the uncivilized Warsaw Pact as an opponent to point the finger at. By contrast, the Massacre of Paris, which claimed the lives of over two hundred Algerian-rooted demonstrators on October 17, 61, was too insignificant to appear in a press release. And earlier, in September of the same year, when the DC-6 with UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld on board had crashed near Ndola, no one could figure out the cause, while Western intelligence agencies searched for Lieutenant Doucaroux, who was suspected of shooting down a diplomatic plane on behalf of the Katanga rebels.

Angus Watson awoke from his brief absence. His mother quoted Ingeborg Bachmann, an Austrian writer whom he greatly admired. It was the prose »Every Day«. The Colonel, code-name »Ulysses«, thanked Ariane with real emotion: »... This is what it looks like, and this was our field of activity, to which we dedicated our existence, to restrict it somehow. Whether it was worth it, we will never know, because the time that comes only makes us look old.« »Jock«, alias Major Lombard, alias »Hermes« laughed amusedly: »Sir, we are old!« Ulysses alias Mathew Kellermann nodded: »And we can no longer take responsibility for risks.« – »Could we even take responsibility for risks if the fate of others depends on them?« Ariane answered her Junior's question: »You always have to take a risk: if you avoid one, another one opens up! You alone can decide which one you want to enter into to cope with your conscience, you have experienced it all yourself!« – »And if it works, you'll be a hero!« added Hermes. – »Unless: the goal was not to be the hero, but the villain to be defeated, because that was always my role in this shit game!« Kellermann could not suppress the bitter undertone in his remark. Ariane looked at the Colonel sympathetically, although her words could have been understood differently: »You have succeeded perfectly, Colonel!« And after everyone had wiped the tears of laughter from their eyes, she wanted to put the matter in perspective: »You paid a high price, especially with the fact that no one was allowed to know the real reason for your actions, ... not even later! You have always painted the devil on the wall of the right people at the right time in the right place to provoke them into action. How did you do that?« The Colonel overcame his crushed pride, feeling justified: «Oui, Madame le Chef de Département pour L’Angleterre», »that was never easy ... I had the goal of letting them make the right decision on their initiative, enjoying the feeling of having done it alone. My basic idea comes from Nietzsche. But I have to admit that your son's opinion is not entirely wrong: I have indeed accepted many a risk that has already crossed the line into irresponsibility.« – »Do you mean your family in the Eifel?« – »That got out of hand ... because of an internal conflict. I then tried to save what was possible, and in the end, they all survived. But I had made the mistake of supporting my daughter to become an agent, and brought her into the devil's kitchen ... even though, I had already left her mother so as not to put them both in danger ... Bob Dylan was right: The saints are coming through!« – »And your family in Arkansas?« – »This family never existed! I still love Waltraut, but I know that Korsakov is the right man for her. He was also the only one I could ask for help in saving Charlotte. What he and Merlin did then was great theater and their crew still don't know everything about it.« - »And who was your contact person to trick the Al E. T. Corporation in the waterworks story in New Mexico? ... Let me guess: The geologist!« Kellermann laughed happily at Jock's assumption: - »No, ... but the pastor!« When the general laughter subsided, Angus looked a little suspiciously at the man they called Ulysses: »So, the pastor ... With all due respect, Sir, do you sometimes play God?« The Colonel gladly replied: »No, Lieutenant ... a god in Greek mythology, perhaps! A god with all his faults and quirkiness, but not the almighty God that exists among Christians. Look at this world: Who wants to load all the suffering on his conscience, attached to his omnipotence? One of the worst demonstrations of this is the Dollar Note, confessing: »In God, we trust!« Maybe we are all really gods because there is something divine in us, despite all the disasters we cause. You are always more successful if you want to be bad: In this case, defeat looks the same as triumph, when everything is in ruins.« Someone asked: »Sir, what did Bob Dylan mean, singing: »The saints are coming through«?« - »I don’t know what he had in mind: There are many explanations for his texts but none by himself. I just mentioned him because he published these words. Everything once was said or thought, perhaps not by everyone. And I quoted this famous word about saints long before Dylan was at the age of being able to write it down ... It was in Belgium, and »D-Day« had already become history. So, many modern people may think: at or after the War’s end. That’s not true, and I know it ... I had been there since our start at Omaha Beach: This war still took some extra time ... and even more extra lives, too ... A cruel war that forced young folks fighting other young folks they did not even know, just because they had been put in different uniforms. The belt buckles of the German uniforms showed: »Gott mit uns!«... a familiar, nearly cozy slogan, comparable with that on our Dollar Note. And for the next months of fighting, we never had a successful moment without the fear that those holy conquerors could break through again with their blessed belt buckles; in the Ardennes, they did much too often ... The imagination of hordes coming through and a constant tightrope walk between good and evil can become fate and passion at the same time: the passion to look into the abyss! Maybe people who process their trauma this way have a special predisposition, and their children and grandchildren inherited this predisposition and became geneticists, agents, fighter jet pilots, or racing drivers. And if this fucking predisposition still has its consequence even for later generations, then it makes sense for me too, saying: The saints are coming through, whatever »saint« means! ... Please forgive me, I lost my composure for a moment ... But I'm happy to turn to another topic: The framework for »Operation Pathfinder« needed a wealth of influence, bringing the Eifel adventure to a good end. Thank you, dear Ariane, thank you, dear »Maron« ... And of course, many thanks to the absent Suwanay San, too! Angus looked questioningly over at his mother who smiled kindly while Ulysses continued: »... You know how to employ your crew of undercover specialists! ... And last but not least: Thank you dear »Cassandra«! We all are nosily awaiting your report about the content of the original envelope!« The educated woman began hesitantly: »I am sorry to say that I cannot share your euphoric mood in this case ... And I must confess to have done my task against my premonition. Yes, our envelope was the same size and weight, and to my surprise, it contained the same kind of missing parts from a very rare small weapon. The difference was: the original papers had no instructions for using them ... No list, no plans, no photographs, no documents, no next tasks ... only the address of Denise Schaffrath and a long, deeply moving letter from a lonely mother to her children, and the request to keep the pistol parts and wait for her. I am ashamed, having made other people sad and even endangering them ... This is the end of my report!«

Mathew Kellermann’s voice ended the agonizing quietness of the room: »Dear Mrs. Summers, all of us are impressed by your words, and I understand your consternation. However, no one has been hurt, and you helped us save lives! There is no doubt that New Popplebush will get a worthy successor in »Morgana«: She made the right decisions according to her abilities, and thanks to her professionalism, even in an unexpected, difficult situation ... albeit in an equally unexpected way ... You have to imagine: an escape route of the Italians over the Nordschleife, that's my granddaughter!« Hermes got jealous: »The girls are my granddaughters too! ... And who told you the story of ...?« He stopped in a twinkling of an eye because Ariadne twinkled an eye. – »But, Sir, had the experimental lap for our data collection on this murderous route not been much too risky for an inexperienced pilot?« - »Not for Sally, dear Athena!« ... »Athena«?? Albert became curious about the conversation between Victoria and Kellermann. He knew that she and her husband had run a development office in Germany, which she had left after their divorce. Two years ago, both parents had transferred their shares to their son, Volker. At today’s »Veteran’s Meeting«, she sat only as Albert Lombard's Companion ... And suddenly she was called Athena?! He looked alternately at Kellermann and the woman next to him. Victoria didn't notice his attention until the second moment. Wearing a tartan skirt and an equally checkered beret, she was faced with his inevitable question here and now: »So you were Kellermann's contact at the airplane plans?« - »I, ... I just wanted you to leave behind everything that makes you unhappy ... so that we could look forward together, and ... and that was also ...« - »That was also for a good cause!«, completed Kellermann, Victoria's stammer: »Think of your granddaughters!« Albert tried to combine this complicated thought construction with his actual emotions; then he decided to hug Victoria because he felt that she needed it now: »So we met at work, didn’t we?!« Maron tried to save the situation by distraction: »When will Apollo join us, Mum ...?« Ariane looked at her gold watch: »The roast needs another five minutes in the oven, at the latest, then he will be here!«

Doctor Findlay went through the small gate. It was normal for him to make a home visit to his old girlfriend in the evening. He took the small staircase in front of the house entrance, taking only one step without holding on to the decorated railing. It was only two stairs to the front door ... and to the Olympus ...#

They stood under the rose-covered pergola that joined the living room on the way to the garden: »What kind of Nürburgring story did you serve him?« Ariane shrugged her shoulders: »One he likes! A good colonel is a satisfied colonel ... Yes, sometimes the magician's tricks work the other way around, you have to be careful not to lose the thread.« - »And if Kellermann finds out, ... that with the girls' duel over the Nordschleife?« – »Then he laughs the loudest at the end!« – »Why did he take the name »Ulysses«? »Zeus« would be much more appropriate!« – »It fits too exactly, and therefore it would no longer be an alias! Let's go back in, or he'll think we're talking badly about him!« Laughing, she squeezed out her cigarette butt and handed the ashtray to her son: »Tell me, Frédéric: you are popular all over the village and beyond ... and there is always a crowd of children around you. So, why did you never marry and have some yourself?« – »Out of love! ... Out of love for the children ...« - »You also have the wrong alias, you should call yourself »Thales«, but that doesn't matter now, we're retiring!« – »That's impossible because we can't stop feeling and thinking. This resulted in our actions: we can only do what we are, Mother!« Chelsea Alington turned to her son and looked him in the eye. He recognized all the goodness of the many decades in hers, and the anxious premonition. For this reason, she probably also asked the question to hear the inevitable: »And what are we, my boy?« – »We are on the run and always will be! Even if we have forgotten what we are escaping from, we remember some of what we said and did on our escape route. In the end, we are still on the run, perhaps more slowly. Then we are only on the run from ourselves, ... who knows if the whole of mankind has not always felt the same way, and does the devil know what happened on the tree at that time, ... that they left it and practiced walking upright to this day.« Ariane immediately regained her typical sense of humor: »Can I tell you what was going on: It was an apple tree! ... Your words remind me of Søren Kierkegaard. To his conviction, we set our priorities according to three human needs: aesthetics, ethics, and religiosity. But, in the same way, it's easy to confuse things. He seems to have realized this himself, saying: »We can only understand life in retrospect, but we have to live forward«!« Frederik laughed: »Of course ... »Where do I come from, where am I going, what is the meaning of life?«. Not even Snoopy from Peanuts got an answer to that in his philosophical nights on the roof of his doghouse, certainly not from Charly Brown!« Angus took a photograph out of his wallet: He and Andrew Moore in Andrew’s cottage, laughing under a winner wreath. His mother understood, but she already looked questioning: »I have a photograph too: do you remember this place?« He seemed to caress the picture: »That’s a selfie shot by an old Leica: Allison and me at our hidden place in the southern forest. There were still some fragments of an old anti-aircraft gun on rails ... we called the place: »Thruxton Train« ... She left with her parents from one day to the other, not saying a word!« The old lady looked in sorrow: »Oh boy! I remember Allison Lester ... Her parents were Puritans, and she was just eighteen years old ... much too young!« - »Too young for having a thirty-year-old boyfriend?« - »Too young for having a child and no friend!« - »You mean ...?!« - »In the end, she had to raise two children: a daughter, who got pregnant at fifteen, and her grandchild.« Angus had to sit him down: »I never knew ... But who told you?!!« She put her hand on his shoulder: You should give this photograph back to your grandson ... he lives in your neighborhood!«#

Sunday roses ...

»Who gave you my address, Elena or Dorothy?« – »Did you already forget my profession? I have to do a last task ... I must keep my promise to follow you to the end of the world!« – »That wasn’t necessary ... But here you are now: East-Westphalia in Germany! A world that’s carrying such territories must have an end, and this is the best place to witness the final countdown!« – »And why even this village?« – »I remembered Gordon talking about it.« Sabrina looked around the big garden around Arthur’s new house. Even the little wood in the background belonged to it: »How did you get this piece of paradise so fast?« - »I bought it for the Orchids from Elena. She used to let it, but the last tenant went home to South Germany again ... a manager who only stayed for a year.« - »But, why doesn’t Elena live here? She only has a flat in Kohlenpott!« - »Yes, it’s a flat in her house, and she will never give up living in Kohlenpott!« He filled her glass again with red wine from the Moselle: »The area around Teutoburg Forest is as beautiful as Hampshire ... The next towns are Gütersloh and Bielefeld. I make many biking tours!« – »And the people?« She looked worried: »Are they really ...« – »No, not at all, ... They are worse! But that’s not their fault; you need to have a single conversation with one of their officials, and you will understand all this mess! Officials are always an example, even if they are the worst. When others get up in the morning and wish to have a nice day, those bastards only want to tell everyone what’s right or wrong and demonstrate their privileges to do wrong themselves at the same time. When I bought the house, they told me not to cut down the forest behind it. I would never have thought about this, but days later, I got a bill for renewing the street behind my house. The writing informed me that they had declared my wood as a building site, so they had the right to the money. On the other hand, I should not use the street as an entrance to my property with a vehicle from this side, or destroy this natural refuge in any other way. But the people from the tenement on the other side got it even worse: After the new street had been finished, the parking markings that had previously existed were still missing. The next morning, every car in front of the house had a ticket because of unauthorized parking. Even if it’s similar everywhere, nowhere else is it this impertinent: Every social regulation carries the blind spot of violent injustice in itself! ... Two weeks ago, there was a small folk festival in the village, during which a youth suddenly fainted and also injured his head. A nurse was present, noticed a clouded consciousness, and called the emergency number by using his cellphone. Surprisingly, he ended up at the police station in Halle (Westphalia). The officer informed him that this was normal because the network was not yet sufficiently set up for this new technology ... But he should leave the police line with his bloody »Handy«, that would be a »Misuse of an emergency number«! The nurse had to call twice again before the officer finally notified the rescue station. Later, the ambulance arrived accompanied by a police car. The cops asked who would have offended police officers and rescue workers by phone.« – »My God, they will never change!« - »No, and all the time they say that they did not make the rules, not thinking about the fact that they give these rules a signature, a voice, a face, and a bad example!« ... »And your neighbors?« – »... Just neighbors: I know some of their dogs. Sometimes, they come to shit in my garden when it gets dark. After they have left, somewhere else, a door closes, and the lights go off. Those people do not even try to hide their assaults ... it’s impossible for them to feel wrong if feeling strong! Oh, I forgot: the children here are nice! One day, I inspected the car, and some kids asked me to repair their bicycles with my tools. From this day, there were always children around me when I was in my carport. That was a good time ... till one of their mothers appeared and questioned me what I wanted from her children ... I’m sure, she was a strong woman, ... strong enough to label my behavior!« – »Arthur, that’s not a human way of living! What the hell do you want in this ...!« – »No, it’s just what I wanted ... I don’t need to have a bad conscience because I don’t like those folks, and in New Popplebush I always had a bad conscience; I never could avoid doing everybody wrong, because of my stupidity! They must have thought that I could not stand them ... But you surely did not come to Prussian Germany to talk about my neighbors or communal officials!« – »You are right: I’m here because of things we already refused to talk about ... we must talk about our past, ... your missing past!« Arthur took some time to react: »Why should we? I think: what’s done is done ... you had to protect the children against many idiots, and one of them was me. After Sally had reactivated my memory, the world did not change ... Okay: Now I know that the woman I admired most was my lover ... That had been in another country and the woman was dead.« - »... Just for better understanding, which work do you quote to make fun of me: TS Eliot's »Portrait of a Lady« or Christopher Marlowe's »The Jew of Malta«? The worst case, however, would be Jeremiah 3 from the Bible! Tell me what’s in your mind!« Arthur realized having said something ridiculous, again: »I never wanted to make fun of you ... I wanted to describe my past, and if there is an Author to be quoted, then Hemmingway!« She was still angry: »Which Hemmingway-story: »In another Country« or »A Farewell to Arms«? ... And don’t make a mistake, now!« - »There’s no difference, this time, Lady Sphinx! It’s the same grief about a lost love, whether you devour me or not! ... And, in my case, the same past in which the children grew up without me knowing it. But one thing I do not understand: If you ever protected them, why did they pick a career as a racer, army pilot, CIA agent?« The former Department Chief looked like any little woman feeling desperate: »I could not do anything against their decisions, they do what they want anyway, and so I always had some experienced people around to look at least after Sarah ... Denise had her experienced grandparents. And I had the best men in the USA: The fathers of the GT-40!« - »The fathers of the GT-40 are American ... Are you serious? Even the Cobra Daytona is a lousy copy of the GTO!« - »It’s not a lousy copy but a very good one ... and Sally’s show on Nürburgring never was planned! I should have known better instead of leaving her alone with you: the first thing you do is put her into an old firecracker and send her to the speedway of hell! What did you have in mind: Should the girls have killed each other?« Arthur was gasping: »You know that’s not the way it was ... And what do you mean by »the girls«, ... your girls? In this case, you'd better have been more careful!« She had got up like a jack-in-the-box: »It’s not necessary to say whose girls! They fought on the North circuit of Nürburgring without thinking!« He got up too: »This is not an exact answer but only a demonstration that they are your girls ... Because you are the head of all this mess without thinking! You are not God, but a woman who should try to be a responsible mother! And if you believe that God belongs to your team of spies, let a simple man tell you something about this god: He is not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays (»Wind up«, Jethro Tull, album »Aqualung« 1971)! He will betray you in any language and is not interested in human terms like incidents or accidents ... And, as you see: he is not even interested in the accident of birth, if they say »natural« or not, Professor!« - »Okay, Simple Man! Now the professor tells you something: You are right, but have no idea how this works. I never wished to have God in my team! Accidents and incidents are his favorite tools to play with us; even his angels do not know what they are doing. If you mention the Rubensteins, you talk about two wonderful people ... Because you don’t know their real business: Those two philanthropists once had been searching the universities for harmless young folks to make CIA agents of them after giving them some support first! ... Or do you think I had wished nothing more than becoming a fucking spy when I began to study in California? But the most logical accident happens if pied pipers get children of their own, and in the end, all of us have to suffer from the same chain reaction ... A chain reaction that endangers our girls and destroys our lives! I went to America as a believing child before I had my own experience. Do you remember »The Byrds« singing »For everything there is a season«? They are quoting the holy Bible in its most self-treacherous way. The word is »Season« and not »Reason«! ... A time for peace, and a time for war ... That’s not a logical way to explain cause and effect, but a highway for gamblers ... or if you want: a simply cynical pastime making fun of every kind of life ... Forget about Schopenhauer or Kant, forget about causality: It’s right still it’s superfluous!« Arthur looked surprised ... not because of these words, but for the first time, he had listened something like this said by someone else: »You are telling my thoughts, and if I ever had spoken them out in public, they would have called me stupid again ... but suffering yourself changes even the logical view of scientists, doesn’t it?. Yes, it’s a question of whom to respect; yes, you are right, it depends on time and place ...but for this uneducated man it’s even superfluous to be an atheist or a Christian: They are the same pious folks, and finally there’s no difference whether science classifies God as the emitter of human inadequacy, or as the sum of it. Do you know why all assassination attempts on Hitler failed? His season was not over yet! By the way: What happened when you hypnotized Denise ... what went wrong with your little child?« She got pale like a marble statue before she burst into tears: »I didn’t want this! I was unprepared for what suddenly happened ... She was the only one I never wanted to manipulate! ... But suddenly she ... She suddenly said: »Mum« to me! If I could change back time!!«#

A new time had started for Giacomo: He was curious about life again ... not at least because of Becky! Dorothy called him »Maestro«, but Gianna said »Spaccone« now. He didn't hold it against her: she had been the better officer, yes ... of course, ... at least she always had told this! ... And now, both of them had to hide like gangsters. He was happy that he was no longer a policeman, and certainly Gianna did not feel different. He could see that, watching her together with Taffy, or even when she only talked about him. The Maestro kept thinking of Dorothy's words, which she had said that evening after he and Gianna had been ceremoniously accepted at the Pub: »Our hearts cannot stand the love for people if there are not also people we love.« Until that moment, he had always followed the wisdom of life: »If you have heart and mind, show only one of them, or they will condemn you for both!« ... Hölderlin? ... no idea who that was! ... The pub’s kitchen waited for him, and he suddenly felt a gust pushing him forward as if to say: »Hurry up!« Giacomo grinned: he thought of how Denise had explained the word »Slipstream« to him: »Im Schatten vom Lischt isset finster ävver im Windschatten zieht et.« ... The German word »Windschatten« made things quite complicated because »Slipstream« and »Sottovento« were the same. Before he entered the kitchen, he turned on the stereo behind the bar. No, he did not choose an Italian song but Becky’s favorite interpretation: Jim Croce sang »Time in a Bottle« ... Yes, Cockney was his one and only!#

Arthur looked happily at his four guests, listening to Sally: »We are going to get married at Gretna Green ... a double-wedding ... please come and join us, I promise you to meet lovely people!« – »Oh, that’s wonderful, thank you for the invitation ... I already visited this beautiful place some years ago!« – »How many years ago ...?« – »More than twenty-five!« The girls looked confused at each other: »Did Mum know this?« – »I don’t think so ... at that time she was mostly sitting in her plane doing any scientific research in Germany or somewhere in the north of England.« Sally got pale: »Did she say something about Windscale?« – »You mean the atomic accident in the fifties? ... No, it was something else ...: Sellafield!« ... - »Oh yes, indeed! ... that’s in the North-West too!« - »Is there anything special about this place, either?« Sally was surprised about her progress in diplomacy: »Not at the present, I hope ... Dad, can’t you imagine forgiving her ...?« Denise interrupted her sister: »Please come home, Daddy! ... Wer jehöre doch zosamm!« - »I needn’t forgive her ... there’s nothing to forgive, but I cannot trust her stories. They are similar to her disguise!... I think that’s according to her trauma. There is a short story by Wolfgang Borchert: A soldier came home, and he had no bread. Watching someone who had bread, he slew him. »You must not kill!«, the judge said. - »Why not?«, reacted the soldier.« – »Sally looked horrified and took a long breath: »This is an unfair comparison! ... And she already gave up her disguising ... If you need a Paternity test to believe that we are your children ...« Now it was Arthur to look horrified: »No, I did never mean that; I’m so happy about you calling me »Dad«, that should do! ... Oh, sorry, I just interrupted your wanting to tell me more about tests: Of course, there will be one! You need it for your story ... A story about two women, the daughters of a scientist, who are not the products of a crime; I guess the probability of being your father is at a higher level than any GDR election result! That’s okay, and we should not doubt it, even if the truth is nothing but the current most popular lie!« Things seemed to get worse for Sarah: »Dad, ... these words ... Did she say anything about my appearance in her lecture hall?« – »No, we did not talk about your studying ... She told me how both of you grew up, how Denise became the »Ring-Flea«, and that the American motorsport-elite of yesterday named you »Tinkerbell«, ... even »Aunty Carroll« called you so!« Marius and Gordon felt relieved by their lovers’ laughter. But soon Sarah looked serious again: »Dad, what are you worrying about ... On her visit, you even refused to let her into the house and booked a hotel room for her!« - »... Well, the only good thing in this village is our hotel ... Much more comfortable than to sleep here in the house!« – »So, you booked rooms for us too now?« – »No, there’s room enough for ... Okay, you are right: But I was scared! ... I was frightened of her staying; where shall I go then?! She already took everything else from me, even my home in New Popplebush! Did she at least leave her old house to you?« – »Yes, of course! It’s big enough for twins and their families!« ...– »And we got the racer’s sleeping room!«, Denise meddled enthusiastically. Sally did not lose the thread: »But she did not take your house! She only once had a look ... I found her, after entering the open intermediate door: she caressed an ugly garden dwarf, and then she took an old champagne bottle out of the shelf. It was covered with the colorful drops of a candle ... Then she sat down and listened to an old record from the stereo. It was »Am Fenster« by the East German group »City«. When she left your house, she smiled ... But that was no smiling, it was a disguised weeping!«

The living room had gotten silent, and Arthur looked like something was working in his head. Finally, he opened his mouth: »If she does not live in our house ... Where does she stay at all?« – »She took the upper rooms of Dorothy’s pub as she used before the years ... and she helps Dorothy manage the Orchids.« ... Arthur got up immediately: »She does what?!! No, that’s not possible; we already had this, and this has to be over! Let’s go, Children!« Gordon seemed to be confused: »What do you think you are going to do, Superman: save the village or even the world from a monster?« – »No, I’m going to save her from herself! ... And the Orchids! ... And the village, and the world!« Sally got up next: »... To sacrifice yourself or what for?« He was searching for words: »Because ...« Denise spoke imploringly: »Do musset scho herruss lasse, Papp!« – »O.K ... because I love her!« Denise stopped her rising hand immediately and hid it behind her back because of watching Sarah’s warning look. As Arthur went upstairs for his backpack, he listened to a kind of hand clapping, but turning around, he watched everyone looking seriously without having moved ... both girls with their hands behind their backs.#

A handshake and a short congratulation in a military style on passing the exam ... She had not expected anything else, and the little bouquet could not change that. But that had not been the reason for Tiffany Reynolds to come here, anyway. She had already celebrated her success: on the campus together with other graduates, waving dark gowns and throwing dark hats into the air; but, above all, at Power Slide Inn, where a whole village had paid homage to her as to a queen. Paul Donohue himself had hung up the life-size poster showing the laughing Cat Woman in a doctor’s coat, threatening with an oversized syringe! Dorothy had held the laudation and burst into tears of joy before she could finish. John had pimped up an old armchair as a throne, on which, wearing a paper crown, she had received the golden key to Doctor Findlay’s office, presented on a velvet cushion. Of course, this had been a symbolic gesture with best wishes for the future, but her assistance work was already a done deal. It was this circumstance that had brought her now to this office ... This circumstance and the result of her thesis on modern methods in medical genetics. Such remarkable discoveries by an aspiring generation made even the gods curious, and so, she now sat opposite the management of some Olympus. Special Agent Hera did not make any secret of this ... neither with her codename, which was more of an overt message, nor with her accent, which sounded anything but British. She was the Headhunter for special interests ... for special human-biological interests; and her new team finally should be able to give her the long-awaited breakthrough! To say it right: This breakthrough had probably already been reached by someone else some years before, but had never been proven because it was impossible to steal any documents from that scientist: There was only one document anyway, and this was in her head: her memory! But now, neither this secret research nor the living evidence stood under protection: Having moved to this unguarded English village, their patent protection had finally expired! Hera needed the genius of this inexperienced graduate, some blood, and a good story. And this girl from New Popplebush had probably come to listen to this story ...#

The young man had been waiting outside and looking around the lovely Scottish village as Tiffy left the hidden headquarters. Now, he watched her pointing against her forehead and heard her scolding: »Imagine this: she called me »Agent Pandora«! Can there be anything worse!?« - »You mean: worse than all the evils escaping, leaving behind only the hope? Hope only prolongs suffering!« Before they entered the car to drive home again, he gazed at the surroundings once more, and he had an idea: »If you are their last hope, we should help them get out of this trouble!#

She was not wearing an oversized syringe in her hand but a small bag. In this bag was a much smaller syringe that had just been used, and he carefully wrapped a blood tube and closed the envelope. »What did you write on it, Eric?« - »With love, Dolly!« Cat Woman stood on the other side of the sheep gate again, ... She was still laughing!#

Sabrina stood smiling with Arthur on the small balcony, watching the rising sun. They listened to Klaus and Caruso and expected the cat to join them at any moment. There was no luggage on the double bed behind them. That would have had no place there because this room was now used for different things. A framed photo stood on her bedside table: Both as young people in a Spitfire, ... an unknown picture for Arthur, showing just another scene that he had temporarily forgotten. By setting the picture in its place, she had quoted Waldo Emerson: »The years teach much which the days never know.« This sounded bigger than Cesare Pavese’s: »We do not remember days, but moments« for Arthur. But he accepted her being an American. Nevertheless, she was right: Arthur could remember something that mattered to him ... Everything else was opinion, or better: »Nothing Else Matters (Metallica 1991)«. The balcony outside the bedroom had a new guardian to protect their love from any bad influence. For a long time, he had protected Arthur and his house from any love for human beings, ... but the ugly German garden gnome now had to stay outside, looking in the opposite direction of the maple tree ... he shouldn’t chase away the birds or the cat. She turned to kiss him: »I trade all my pasts with this single present; may it never end!« ... His only reaction was a shy smile, and she did not let him get away with that: »Tell me something about what’s inside your head; I bet its music anyway! So, why don’t you say at least, what music!« To his shy look, some shy words joined: »Whitney Houston: »One Moment in Time!« She kissed him again, then looked straight into his eyes: »The moment is now!« The truth was probably something more than the current most popular lie. Arthur was in love and could not do anything against it, and that was the truth.#

The End

P.S

»The analysis result is beyond any doubt: we talk about a rare phenomenon of genetic dominance ... a freak of nature with dire consequences for the affected, just because of some old rumors, Professor! The same rumors that led us to search for the fruits of a secret »Operation Sophie« that probably never existed. I did not study medicine to hunt any phantoms for the rest of my life and find only victims of a crazy idea ... And the question is: whose idea, if there’s no one left on the other side? In other words, Professor: That’s the reason why I quit my job!« She dropped her cellphone on the passenger seat and left the car.

The young lady was elegantly dressed, and her body measurements would have done credit to any top model. This made him even more curious: «Puis-je vous aider, Madame?» - «Mademoiselle, s'il vous plaît!» The young woman was not in the mood for a talk. So, she didn´t even look up from the map, which she had folded out on the bonnet. The bicycle rider did not give up: «Avec plaisir, Mademoiselle ...?» Because she did not react, he began to talk about her car: «Un Facel Vega! ... cette merveilleuse voiture classique ... et il a un vrai coffre!» At the same moment, she stood tall, turned to him, and took off her reading glasses because she did not need to look into any maps any further. «Bonjour, Monsieur le Gendarme, puis-je appeler «Maurice»?» - «Mon Dieu : Nous nous connaissons?» - «Pas que je sache, et je n’oublie jamais rien! Mais, je suis le docteur Alighieri, votre nouvelle médecin de campagne ... Appelez-moi «Sophie»!»#

FIN

(Impressum) – Contact Information

Lothar Hartung, Kantsraße 12, 33803 Steinhagen, Germany

Table of Contents

(Impressum) – Contact Information

Summary

Important notice!

First Information

Thruxton Train

Shores, Borders, and Limits

A kind of Parsifal

Summa cum laude?

French Connection

Things that matter

Back to the Roots?

Which Status Quo?

Maledetto Tedesco!

Undefined Identity

The Man from the Land of Smiles (or somewhere next to it)

Qualifying

Remote controlled

Gambit declined!

Castling Queen’s Side

Tragedy and Farce

Nothing left to lose

What’s wrong, Doc?

Slipstream of History

Sisters in Arms

Mystery Circumstances

Minds of Thunder

Currently most popular ...

Sunday roses ...

P.S