Waltzing in the Shadows - Chapter 1

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CHAPTER ONE

The phone on his desk rang and Bill answered. “Medical Research Command, Sergeant Sampson. May I help you?”

I do this in my sleep!

“Hey Bill, this is Marty over at Mil Per. How’s it goin’?”

“Fine. Bet I know what you’re calling about -- the gal from Perdue.”

Sergeant Wilson confirmed it and the two went over the numbers that confirmed the enlistment deal.

“That fills up your last vacancy, doesn’t it?”

Bill verified it, adding, “The Old Man’s gonna be happy.”

Marty then had some great news for his buddy. “Didn’t you tell me a while ago that you want to get out of Dodge?”

Bill said “You Bet!” so Marty continued. “Care to go back to Europe? I got a sweet deal right up your line.” He explained that a small office at the American Embassy in Vienna, Austria had a vacancy coming up real quick and needed a replacement -- “A-sap!”

“The incumbent put in for Warrant and got approved. Needs to come back Stateside so he can go through the orientation. Doesn’t want to leave before he’s got a replacement.”

“You don’t have to ask twice!” Bill responded. “Get me the paperwork and I’m outta here.”

Bill enjoyed his job. His old Commanding Officer had a problem when the draft ended. Draftees with certain college degrees had been put in positions throughout the Army as research assistants. What were the research labs going to do with their supply about to run out?

Bill had been the personnel sergeant in one of the labs and researched the situation, discovering the proposed course of turning military positions into civilian would create a huge cost increase and the problems associated with civil servants who couldn’t be fired no matter how lazy, inept or just plain stupid they were.

Bill came up with an alternative and presented it to the colonel and the executive officer. They were interested, made a call and got tentative approval to give Bill the go-ahead to see what he could work out.

After so much paperwork that Bill could not begin to count it all, a program was approved where recruiters who encountered those with special college degrees could enlist them into the army with advanced promotion depending upon their degree and an iron-bound guarantee of working in a specific position with a designated researcher.

As a result, eighteen months later, Bill managed to put together a program recruiting highly qualified people for every single vacancy in the command -- one hundred and eighteen jobs that nobody had ever thought could be filled by soldiers.

The fact that a mere sergeant could pull off such a thing was unheard of.

So, why did Bill want to get out of there?

What else? A marriage that was not working out. The papers had been signed and sent off to California by registered mail. As the soon-to-be ex had agreed to everything, it was but a matter of some judge signing the decree.

Good old California. Where else in the world can something that’s supposed to be forever become a drive-through, legal tidbit?

Bill got up from his desk walked down the hall to knock on the Sergeant Major’s door. Hearing the brusque “Enter!“ he stepped inside and took the seat he was pointed to.

“Okay, Sampson, whatcha got for me?”

Bill explained about filling the last vacant position. That pleased the Sergeant Major and he said, “I’ll tell the Old Man as soon as he gets back. Unless you want to tell him yourself.”

“You know I can’t do that without Malevo…..” Bill stopped before blurting out the name most called his supervisor, Captain Malewski.

The Sergeant Major knew damned well how little respect others had for the captain. He also knew that Bill had been in the personnel game long enough that the one-time enlisted man turned officer would find his tail in a wringer before too long.

He then listened as Bill explained the offer of a job in Austria. “That sounds like a great job! You gonna take it?”

“Unless you or the Old Man prefer I don’t.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. You’ve done more than anyone figured could be done and we’re both more than pleased to see you get something like that.”

After a pause, he added, “Got any idea for your replacement?”

Bill wanted to add something to the effect that the captain probably felt he didn’t need to be replaced but kept his mouth shut. “Sergeant Jonas out at Walter Reed would be my first choice. He knows the program and is on the promotion list to E-Seven.”

The Sergeant Major agreed and said he’d make the call to set things in motion.

The following days were hectic. Once the paperwork came in, Bill typed up his orders and got down to preparing to move out. The job called for civilian clothes, no uniforms allowed in-country and an official U.S. passport.

Bill had one suit and some casual clothes but little else as he wore uniforms most of the time. The clothing allowance wasn’t enough for Brooks Brothers but he bought one decent suit and a non-military pair of shoes. The personnel shop at Fort Meyers that serviced The Puzzle Palace got him the passport in record time.

Bill was watching the TV in the Day Room two days after having his orders in hand when the Charge-of-Quarters came in and told him he had a phone call. “The guy says he’s calling from Austria.”

Bill picked up the phone. “Sergeant Sampson. Can I help you?“

“Ich bin Bruce Steinman aus dem Amerikanische Botschaft im Wien, Österreich.”

Oh boy! Good thing I got the tapes out to brush up.”

Bill replied, in German, that he was surprised but pleased with the call. The connection was surprisingly clear.

Bill explained that he had his orders and did not plan to take the customary leave of absence, adding, “I’ll be coming alone so there should be no problems.”

Steinman was pleased and told Bill, “You need to stop by the Austrian Embassy and ask to speak to someone there, probably their Attaché. It is nothing more than a courtesy call. They jealously protect their neutrality and, although they really can‘t say no, like to see who we‘re sending before we depart.”

That was fine with Bill and he said he’d do it the next day.

Bill listened with great interest as Bruce gave him a quick run-down. “It’s probably the sweetest job you’ll ever get. Just you, a major who’s great to work for and an Austrian civilian who works as your driver and Go For.” He added that, while their boss reported to the embassy’s Defense Attaché, their real headquarters was in Stuttgart, Germany with most of their dealing directly with the Pentagon. “What you will really get a kick out of is that you will stay assigned to the Military District of Washington, right where you’re at now.”

“The only drawback,” Steinman added with a laugh, “is the Ruskie who’ll follow you everywhere you go like a lost, little puppy dog.”

“You mean we’re Spooks and they keep an eye on us?”

“Nothing that serious. It’s just because we’re military and work in the embassy. Whenever anyone asks me what I do, I tell them that I’m a spy and a gunrunner!”

As promised, Bill made it a point to visit the Austrian Embassy the next day. It wasn’t hard to find, one of the old Nineteenth Century buildings in the Connecticut and Wisconsin Avenue diplomatic quarter. He stepped inside the main door and walked across the ornate lobby to a guy in a civilian suit sitting at a desk.

Bill had debated over what to wear but decided on his khaki uniform. He was, after all, an American soldier and proud of it. He just made certain it was sharply creased with highly-polished insignia and shoes.

“I am being assigned to the American embassy in Vienna and am here to make a courtesy call.”

The man nodded and asked him to wait a moment, picking up the phone and dialing a number. That gave Bill a chance to look around and the first thing he saw was the official seal of Austria, a large black eagle with a gold crown, beak and talons and a red-white-red coat of arms in the middle. The marble floor shone and there were some pictures of what he thought to be Austria on the walls.

“Herr Sampson?”

Bill turned at the sound of the female voice and automatically answered, “Jawohl!”

The woman walking towards him certainly wasn’t the commonly thought of Germanic ideal. Instead of big, blonde and busty, she was small, slender, brown-haired with coke-bottle glasses. Wearing a severe business suit, flats and with her hair done up on a tight bun, she reminded Bill of a serious little mouse.

“Ich bin Fräulein Weber” she said, offering her hand.

“Es freut mich sehr, Gnädige Fräulein, Ihnen kennen zu lernen,” Bill replied, taking her hand. The grip was firm and he was surprised to feel a tingling as they touched.

She inspected his hand and Bill strangely understood she saw the white mark where his wedding been had recently been.

“Kommen Sie mit,” she said, releasing his hand and leading him from the lobby.

Knowing it was a test, Bill answered in German, chatting with her as he followed her to her small, utilitarian office. There was nothing on the door or inside to show her title or position.

“If you do not mind, I would prefer we speak English. I know you are fluent in German or you would not be selected for the job.”

Bill noted that she had a very slight British accent, not uncommon as that is where most Europeans learned the language.

She proved to be an intelligent and knowledgeable individual, having the names of every Austrian soldier attending schools in the United States, where they were and what they were studying. She also had an amazing list of every piece of equipment in the possession of the Austrian Defense Department left over from the Fifties when the Americans had given them to it.

The more Bill learned about his new job the happier he became.

“Perhaps we can meet tonight after work?”

Bill was surprised by the invitation. “Sure! Be glad too. Just tell me where and when. If you want, I can pick you up.”

She explained that she lived in the Embassy and the place she wanted to take him to was but a block away. “It is a somewhat realistic restaurant that serves good regional dishes from Germany and Austria. They also have some excellent Austrian wine.”

Bill preferred casual stuff when he was off-duty. But, he also felt it appropriate to wear something more than jeans, donning slacks, a sports jacket and an open-necked shirt.

Der Adler was easy to locate and he found a parking lot for his old heap. He walked inside and looked around for the Austrian, not spotting her at first. But, when she raised her hand to gain his attention, Bill headed that way, surprised at what he saw.

She certainly wasn’t the same Plain Jane of the embassy. She wore slacks and a sweater with her long, light brown hair down to her shoulders. The thick glasses were gone, replaced by contacts.

Bill found himself entranced by her beryl-green eyes. She also had kissable, full lips in a narrow face. He could see that she was slim but not skinny.

Seeing his reaction, she laughed and said, in English, “It is camouflage for work. It makes me appear harmless and unthreatening to male egos.”

I think I’m gonna like this girl.

She ordered a glass of Zinfandel so Bill followed suit. They went over the menu and Bill impressed her with his knowledge of German foods.

“I’m pushing military weight limits,” he explained, “and that doesn’t come from an aversion to eating. I’m especially in deep trouble with sweet stuff I shouldn’t be eating.”

She sympathized with him, adding that she had a similar problem.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

She laughed and dropped the subject, turning her attention to the menu, recommending a couple of different dishes.

“We really do not have a national cuisine. Our foods come from everywhere else. Almost like you Yanks.”

“Well, how about Wienerschnitzel? Isn’t that Vienna Cutlet?”

“You will not believe this but it actually came to us from the Tyrolian region of Italy.”

Bill decided to try a Zigeunerschnitzel, a Gypsy cutlet, with lentil soup. He decision proved wise as the dishes lived up to, if not exceeded, Ursula’s recommendations.

During and after dinner, Bill learned that Ursula was an accomplished young woman, speaking six languages fluently and familiar with several others. Her goal was to someday be an interpreter/translator at the United Nations, at least that’s what she told him. She explained that the United Nations had a major complex in Vienna and she might start there.

She also told Bill about what to expect in his new job and the city he would be living in. “You will find it a cultural goldmine. We have some marvelous operas, museums, art galleries and beautiful palaces.”

If she was fishing to discover how much of an ignorant rube Bill was, she got a surprise when he told her that he knew of the composers and artists who’d lived and performed in Vienna.

“I’m even looking forward to doing the Viennese waltz as it’s different from the Arthur Murray waltz I learned here.”

She agreed that, when she returned to Vienna in about ten months, she’d take Bill up on that, telling him they could do it on the dance floor in front of the pavilion where Johann Strauss had actually performed his music.

The evening was pleasant and ended all too soon. Bill surprised himself as he did not consider her his type when he asked if she would care to meet him again.

“Why certainly. What would you like to do?”

She appeared pleased when he asked her to accompany him to the United States Army’s Band Concert the following evening on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial.

“Why that would be lovely! I have heard of it but have never thought to take the time to actually attend one.”

Bill asked if he could pick her up and they agreed to a time.

Ursula -- “Please call me Ushi” -- was waiting on the bench outside of the embassy when he pulled up, this time wearing a skirt that showed some nice legs. It was not tight and quite prim, about an inch below her knees.

They both enjoyed the concert, not just the music which was outstanding but the military pomp and precision of Washington’s Lifeguard with the accompanying Fife and Drum Corps. They were both impressed by the exactitude of the Third Infantry and the flash of bayonets for the Close Order Drill Squad. They joined in the enthusiastic applause of the crowd.

Neither was the bar type so they went to a coffee house Ushi knew of not far from her embassy. It stayed open until Midnight, when Bill took her and dropped her off in front of the embassy, not worrying about her due to the police officer standing outside.

The following evening was dinner in the same restaurant followed by a performance at the famous Ford’s Theater.

When, in response to her question, he told her that he’d spent four years on a combination ranch and farm, she bubbled over with enthusiasm about his being able to live around animals.

“I always wanted a pony but my parents told me they were too dangerous.”

She also explained how she would spend hours watching squirrels play in the trees near her house, especially happy when they went about harvesting acorns and chestnuts to prepare for the Winter.

There was a small vegetable garden and a warren of rabbits living under the nearby hedge. She explained, “There was one rabbit who was braver than all the rest. She would sneak into the garden and gnaw on turnips. The gardener tried everything he could do to stop her but she always seemed to know of his approach and escape.”

She even admitted that, “Once or twice, I might have made noise accidentally to alert her.”

Ursula gave him a number of books about the history and culture of Vienna and Austria. He found her to be an interesting and intelligent person, not at all surprised to learn that she had an advanced degree in International Affairs.

Their final evening together was at a small club in Arlington with a lively Bluegrass Band. The foot-stomping music pleased her and she pointed out how some of it had a classical sound and influence. She was no more fond of the weak American beer than Bill but there was no other choice.

They said goodnight at the embassy and she surprised him with a sisterly kiss on the cheek, saying, “I do hope we can get together again when I return to Vienna in a few months.”

He watched her go inside, surprised that he looked forward to that.

* * *

“The Austrian met and appears to be friendly with the soldier selected to work in the embassy, Mawlawi Berzan.”

“I thank you for the information, My Son. Do we know when they will both be in Vienna?”

Şikak replies, “Not yet, Most Honored One. We know that he will be going there soon but do not yet have an indication when she will follow.”

The leader of the Society of Seven Angels thanks his agent for the information, replaces the receiver on its cradle and stares out the window of the ancient building secreted away in the rugged Zargos mountains.

“I think we picked the right person in Weber,” he muses. “She seems to be discrete and well-trained. The American though is an amateur. Will he do the right thing with the information we feed him through her?”

His pondering is interrupted by the arrival of a messenger bringing him a sheet of coded information from one of his many agents in the Iranian capitol of Tehran. He spends the next hour decoding the message and deciding what to do with it. It will temporarily go into one of the many cubbyholes against the wall until the proper time comes to disseminate it to an untried and yet untested individual