Chapter 4 - Monday Afternoon

Dieter unfolded the large plaid blanket and laid it out on the grass between two of the huge old elm trees. Kneeling in front of the small cooler, Amanda started to pull out the lunches she'd taken the time to pack when she’d stopped at home. “All right, we’ve got ham and Swiss on rye. . .here you go. I spread a little mustard on. . .I hope you like it,” she offered, smiling and reaching across to hand Dieter one of the sandwiches.

“Of course,” he replied, returning her smile. He folded back the wrapping on his sandwich and took a bite, savoring the combination of salty, tangy flavors. “Mmm. . .excellent!” he exulted, continuing to chew as he spoke.

Amanda used her napkin to wipe away a bit of mustard from her lip and waved off the compliment. “Oh. . .well, I don’t know as I’d go that far. I just thought it’d be nicer, and probably less expensive, than going to one of those concession stands, you know?” She let her eyes wander down the expanses of green along either side of the Reflecting Pool as she went on, “And it’s such a nice day, and with the leaves beginning to turn all golden.”

“Yes, Amanda, this was a wonderful idea,” he interrupted, his gaze taking in their surroundings. “You are quite right, it is beautiful here. So. . .do you come here often?”

She nearly choked, trying to hold back her laughter, quickly recovering control when she realized from his innocent look that he didn’t mean it as a pick-up line. She gave a slight cough and answered, “Hm? Oh. . .you mean, do we. . .my family and I, come. . .here?" she asked, pointing down to the ground. "Well, Jamie’s class came here to the Memorials last spring, and we took the Junior Trailblazers to the Air and Space Museum once, but, often? No, not really. I guess it’s true, the cobbler’s children have no shoes,” she finished, chuckling softly.

“Bitte? I beg your pardon?”

“It’s just an old saying,” Amanda explained. “I mean, we live here, but we don’t often take advantage of what we have right on our doorstep. It’s really too bad, when you come to think of it,” she mused aloud, looking down for a moment. She lifted her eyes and smiled again as she said, “So. . .we’ll just have to get as much out of our casual surveillance as we can for the next couple of days, huh?”

“Jawohl. . .yes, yes we shall!” he chimed in, before a slightly puzzled look came over his face. “Excuse me? Casual surveillance?”

“Yeah, well, that’s what Lee calls it, you know, when we’re—well, when we’re ‘keeping our eyes and ears open’, but we’re not on a stakeout, as such, like where you’re stuck sitting in a car for hours, if you know. . .”

“Ah. Yes, I understand,” he said, an amused sparkle in his eyes. After they'd finished their sandwiches, Dieter cast a quick glance at his watch, then looked up to Amanda and said reluctantly, “My dear Frau King. . .Amanda, as much as I have enjoyed our repast, I suppose we should move along.”

“Right,” Amanda agreed, and the two of them picked up the small cooler and the blanket, discarding the sandwich wrappings and napkins in one of the trash bins on the way back to her station wagon. When she turned the key in the lock, she noticed something on the front seat.

Her mouth dropped open, and she whispered, “Oh my gosh,” as she opened the door and revealed the torn half-sheet of lined yellow paper with something written on it, in German, she was sure. “Dieter! What does this mean?” she asked quietly, taking a tissue from her purse and using it to lift the scrap of paper for his inspection.

“Let me see,” he began, “In zwei Tagen wird euer Tempel zusammenbrechen. . .in two days, your temple will come crashing down.” Their eyes connected then, and all thoughts of their pleasant lunch under the trees vanished. “They have moved up the timetable. We must let the others know.”

Amanda nodded, pulling a leftover zippered plastic bag from the cooler and slipping the warning note inside it before shutting and locking the station wagon. She looked back up the hill and started walking toward the Reflecting Pool, saying, “We might as well go on to the Memorial. We’ll be able to find a telephone there, and we can call Mr. Melrose.”

She was still a step or two ahead of Dieter, when all of a sudden, she whipped around to face him. “Dieter! Wait!” she called out in a loud whisper, placing a hand on his arm to stop his progress.

“What is it?” he asked with a slightly puzzled look.

Amanda looked up to him and tried to explain. “You see those two people talking to each other, over by that park bench on the left there?” She indicated them with a slight toss of her hair, trying very hard not to be too obvious. “See? The dark-haired girl, all dressed in black, and the blond guy with those cold, ice blue eyes?” A momentary spark of fear showed itself as she went on to tell him, “I don’t know about the girl, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that guy before.”

Dieter made a good job of viewing the young man without appearing to look at him. He looked into Amanda’s eyes and smiled pleasantly as he answered, “I’m not surprised, Amanda. He’s one of them. In fact, he’s their leader, Gunther Heller. And that charming vision in black leather is his chief lieutenant, Giesele Hofmeier.”

"Mm-hmm? Well, I sure wouldn't want to meet her in a dark alley," Amanda replied, grimacing at the thought. "So. . .what do we do now?"

He glanced past her shoulder once more, then took hold of her hand and started moving toward the other side of the Reflecting Pool. "Just walk with me, " he whispered.

Amanda's heart skipped a beat at the eerily familiar words--the first that Lee had spoken to her, just over two years ago. She stood still for a moment, her mind reeling with the memories those four words evoked, of how her life had changed since then, and how important, how dear to her, a certain person had become.

Dieter nearly tripped on the path. He let go of her hand and turned around to look over her slightly flushed face. "Amanda, are you all right?" he asked.

"What? Oh sure, I'm fine. . .it's nothing, really," she replied with an embarrassed smile. She flipped her hair back with her hands and continued, "Someone. . .else I know said the same thing once. . .that's all. It's. . .really, it's nothing," she finished, in a futile attempt to wave it off as just that.

"All right, then, shall we?" Dieter asked, offering his hand to her as they started walking again. With a trace of a grin showing on his face, he darted a quick glance in her direction and commented, “Whoever this ‘someone’ is, he must have made quite an impression on you.”

Amanda nodded and let out a soft chuckle as she replied, “Yeah, you could say that.”

********

Francine stormed ahead of Lee as they walked across the Capitol grounds towards the Peace Monument. She turned to face him, frowning and throwing up her hands in angry frustration. "A cafeteria! In this whole area, we couldn't do better than that--please!"

"Oh come on, Francine!" Lee shot back. "The food was just fine! Of course, the 'ambience' may have left something to be desired," he smirked, "but look, there was no way I was gonna go back and move the car, just so you could have lunch at the Blue Fox, not when we needed to cover at least one more building today. Just get over it, all right?" He didn't wait for a response, simply squared his shoulders and kept on walking.

"Oh. . .all right," she grumbled, her low heels clicking on the pavement as she picked up her pace to catch up to his long strides. "What d'you say we split up and roam through the Gallery separately?"

"What? You mean, each of us? Alone?" With a sardonic grin, he went on, "Well, believe me, I'd like nothing better! But as tantalizing as that idea is, Francine, we'd better not." He thrust out his hand and reminded her, "What if someone from our Capitol tour group should see us? No. Sorry, it just wouldn't work," he finished, shaking his head and gripping her hand as they walked up the marble steps to the National Gallery of Art. With every step, he kept thinking, 'Billy Melrose. . .I'm gonna get you for this!'

********

When Amanda and Dieter had gone about half way down the length of the tree-lined pathway that flanked the Reflecting Pool, he turned to her, his eyes beginning to light up as he called her name. “Amanda?”

“Yes, Dieter?”

“Do you still have your camera with you?”

“Well, sure, but. . .um. . .” she sputtered, her eyes forming a question as she shrugged her shoulders.

“We are tourists, correct? Shouldn’t we take some pictures?”

Amanda’s eyebrows rose and she began to smile as she caught on. “Oh. . .right. Okay then, here you go.” She handed him the camera and walked a little distance from him, standing with her back to the water and striking a pose. “Now. . .how’s this?”

Dieter smiled and motioned with his hand to show her where to stand as he clicked off shot after shot. “Very good, Amanda, but could you move this way, just a little. . .now over this way. . .yes, that one is a keeper. . .all right, let’s turn so your back is toward the Washington Monument. . .oh yes, very nice!” he gushed. Anyone passing by would assume he was just taking pictures of his girlfriend. If they’d taken a closer look, they might have noticed that he was using the telephoto lens.

Slipping the camera back into her handbag, Amanda asked, “So. . .you think the folks back home will like those?”

“I certainly do, Amanda, “ he replied, taking her hand again as they resumed their westbound trek. “We have at least four or five clear pictures of the both of them, which, sadly, will confirm for your Mr. Melrose that they have arrived on American soil.”

********

Giesele Hofmeier paced behind the park bench. “I don’t like this, Gunther. You saw them take the note from the American woman’s car. Now look at them—they look as calm and relaxed as a couple on holiday! “

Gunther placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to calm her. “Relax, Giesele. . .it’s all an act, nothing more. They can’t know our plans yet, and we have most likely thrown them off by moving up the deadline.” He laughed to himself, “dead-line. . .how appropriate. All right then, let’s go, shall we?” he prompted, leading her down the hill toward the spot where he’d parked his motorcycle.

********

Lee turned around slowly in the wide-open space of the National Gallery’s East Building Atrium. He looked up through the enormous skylight and whispered, “I don’t know, Francine. This place doesn’t seem like anything the Lightning Flash would want for a target.” He looked down to her and spread his arms out as he went on, “I mean, look around us! Except for that one small guided tour group up on the second level there, it’s almost empty.”

Francine was flipping through the pages of a small guidebook she’d picked up at the entrance. At Lee’s comments, she looked up at the expansive, bright red Alexander Calder mobile above them. She closed the book and nodded. “I suppose you’re right about this building, Lee. Maybe we should go on through the tunnel to the West building. That’s where they house the Rembrandt’s and the donated Mellon collection.”

“Yeah, that sounds a lot more likely.”

As they walked through the concourse, Lee took a look at his watch, then asked Francine, “What time is it we’re supposed to check in with Billy?”

“Well, the assignment run-down said 2:30,” she answered, checking her own watch as she finished, “that’s about half an hour yet. What’s the matter? Hot date?”

He gave her a look that would melt butter, but all he said was, “No, Francine, I was just checking. Hopefully we can find a phone then. And if any of our other teams have turned up anything, it would be nice to know, that’s all,” he finished with a slight shrug.

She smiled knowingly. “ANY of the other teams? You’re sure this isn’t just about one team in particular? I’m almost sure there’s nothing to worry about, Lee. Look. . .Volkenauer’s a trained policeman, and Amanda can take care of herself.” She pointed a finger in his direction as she added, “You quote me on that and I’ll deny it!” Taking a sideways look at his twitching jaw muscle, she kept on, “Her safety’s not the only thing you’re worried about, is it? Oh come on, Lee! A dashing Interpol agent and an American housewife? Please! And besides, why would you--" she stopped herself short, snapping her mouth shut and rolling her eyes.

At that, he squinted at her and turned away. He could hear her soft laughter behind him as he stalked toward the entrance to the West building, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of looking back. He cleared his throat and held out his hand, saying, “Well? Are you coming, or what?”

********

When they came to the foot of the stairs in front of the Lincoln Memorial, Dieter paused to look over the magnificent structure, awestruck by its imposing size and neoclassical style.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Amanda whispered. “Wait ‘til you get inside.”

Almost reverently, they made their way up the last of the steps to stand before the fatherly statue of a seated Abraham Lincoln. Amanda’s eyes widened as she read the inscription above the statue: “In this Temple, as in the hearts of the people, for whom he saved the Union, the memory of Abraham Lincoln is enshrined forever.”

She touched Volkenauer’s shoulder and pointed up to the inscription. “Dieter! Do you see what that says? In this Temple. . .”

“Yes, yes, I see,” Dieter answered softly, as he turned away, briefly staring into the distance beyond the towering Doric columns. He looked back to her, spreading his hands before him as he remarked, “I believe I read something about this memorial being modeled after the Parthenon of ancient Greece. You are quite right, Amanda. This place could very well be the ‘temple’.”

“Right,” she whispered, nodding slowly and looking over to the side of the central chamber. “I’m almost sure there’s some sort of bookstore or gift shop here. They’ll probably have a public telephone. Let’s go and browse a little, and then I’ll try to call Mr. Melrose, okay?”

Dieter followed her lead as they worked their way around to the tiny bookstore, wedged in behind the North wall of the memorial chamber. Amanda picked up a few sets of postcards, a miniature statue of Lincoln and some free fact sheets about the monuments and memorials in the area. she “Excuse me,” she started, pausing to read the shopkeeper’s name tag before asking, ”Mr. uh. . .Bauer? Could you please tell me where I could find a pay phone around here?”

“Certainly, madam,” the shopkeeper replied. “Unfortunately, there aren’t any public phones inside the Memorial, but if you go out through the front opening, down the steps and across the street, just catty-corner there to the right, you’ll see a snack bar and souvenir shop, next to a tourist trolley stop. Sorry, but that’s the closest one.”

She waved her hand through the air and smiled as she deflected his apology. “Oh, no, that’s all right, it’s not your fault. Thanks.” Turning her attention to Dieter, she took the camera from her purse and slipped it into the bookstore bag, asking him to hold it for her while she went out to find the telephone. “Thanks, Dieter. Just give me a few minutes. You stay here and check out the Memorial. I’ll be right back,” she assured him, waving back to him as she started down the steps.

The small telephone kiosk consisted of little more than a shelf with narrow walls on either side. It stood in a dimly lit hallway at the back of the snack bar, near the restrooms. Amanda was less than thrilled to be there, but she went ahead and dialed the main number for IFF, keeping a watchful eye on the open end of the hallway while she waited to be connected to Mr. Melrose.

“Melrose here,” Billy answered.

“Sir! It’s Amanda,” she began, standing up straighter as she proceeded to give her report. “Sir, we, Dieter and I, have some news. We’ve seen them, two of them--the Lightning Flash people, that is--a Gunther something, and. . .anyway, Dieter took several pictures of them,” she paused, smiling to herself. “He was really good, you know? Made it look like he was taking pictures of me, and. . .”

Billy burst in, “Amanda? Is there more?”

“Sorry,” she apologized, embarrassment sounding in her voice. “Yes sir, there is. You see, sir, we found another note.”

“You found a note? Where?”

“In my car, sir,” she admitted. “You see, we’d stopped to have a little lunch I’d packed, and when we came back to put the cooler away, it was there. . .the note. . .on the front seat.”

“What did it say, Amanda?”

“Well, sir, it was in German, but Dieter told me it said something like, ‘in two days, your temple will come crashing down’.”

Billy slammed his hand down onto his desk. “Two days?!? And just what is this ‘temple’ they’re talking about?”

“Well of course, we don’t know for sure, Mr. Melrose, but Dieter and I have a pretty good idea that it might be the Linc—“

Her voice stopped abruptly, and Billy yelled into the phone, “Amanda! Amanda, are you there?” But the only answer he received was a sharp click, followed by a dial tone.

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