confusion. “I hope my little deception has caused you no inconvenience.”
“No, a little concern perhaps, but no inconvenience.” The old German extended his hand and studied Pitt closely. “It is an honor to meet you, Major. I am Bruno von Till.”
Pitt clasped the outstretched hand and returned the stare. “The honor is mine, sir.”
Von Till lifted a tapestry, revealing a doorway. “Please come this way, Major. You must join me for a drink while we wait for Teri to finish dressing.”
Pitt followed the flat form and the white hound down a dark hallway that led into a large cavernous study. The ceiling arched at least thirty feet high and was supported by several fluted ionic column shafts. The furniture, classic in its simplicity, sparsely dotted the floor and lent an air of grace to the imposing chamber. A cart was already laid with unusual Greek hors d’oeuvres, and a recessed alcove of one wall housed a completely equipped bar. The only item of decor, Pitt noted, that seemed out of place was a model of a German submarine, resting on a shelf above the bar.
Von Till motioned Pitt to sit down. “What will be your pleasure, Major?”
“Scotch rocks would be fine,” replied Pitt, leaning back in an armless couch. “Your villa is most impressive. It must have an interesting history.”
“Yes, it was originally built by the Romans in 138 B.C. as a temple to Minerva, their goddess of wisdom. I purchased the ruins shortly after the First World War and rebuilt it into what you see today.” He handed Pitt a glass. “Shall we drink a toast?”
“To whom or what shall we drink to?”
Von Till smiled. “You may have the honor, Major. Beautiful women. . . riches.. . a long life. Perhaps to the President of your country. The choice is yours.”
Pitt took a deep breath. “In that case I propose a toast to the courage and flying skill of Kurt Heibert, The Hawk of Macedonia.”
Von Till’s face went blank. He slowly eased Into a chair and toyed with his drink.” You are a very unusual man, Major. You pass yourself off as a garbage collector. You come to my villa and assault my chauffeur, and then you astound me further by proposing a toast to my old flying comrade, Kurt.” He threw a sly grin over his drink at Pitt. “However, your most outstanding performance was in seducing my niece on the beach this morning. For that feat I congratulate and thank you.
Today, for the first time in nine years, I saw Teri happily singing and laughing with an intense joy in living.
I am afraid you force me to condone your lecherous conduct.”
It was Pitt’s turn to act surprised, but, instead, he tossed his head back and laughed. “My apologies on every count, except slugging your perverted chauffeur. Willie had it coming.”
“You should not blame poor Willie. He was only acting on my orders to follow and guard Teri. She is my only living relative and I wish no harm to come to her.”
“What harm could possibly come to her?” Von Till rose and walked to an open terrace window and looked out over the darkening sea. “Over half a century I have worked hard and paid a great personal price to build a substantial organization. Along the road I also accumulated a few enemies. I never know what one of them might do for revenge.”
Pitt’s eyes searched von Till. “Is that why you carry a Luger in a shoulder holster?”
Von Till turned from the window and self-consciously adjusted his white dinner jacket over the bulge beneath his left armpit. “May I ask how you know it is a Luger?”
“Just a guess,” Pitt said. “You look like the Luger type.”
Von Till shrugged. “Ordinarily I do not act quite so mundane, but for the way Teri described you I had every reason to suspect doubtful character.”
“I must admit I’ve performed a few sinful deeds in my day,” Pitt said grinning. “But murder and extortion weren’t included.”
A scowl formed on von Till’s face. “I do not think you would be so flippant if you . . . how do you Americans say. . . were in my shoes.”
“Your shoes are beginning to sound very mysterious, Herr von Till,” said Pitt. “Just what kind of business are you in?”
Suspicion marked von Till’s eyes, then his lips faded to a phony smile. “If I told you, it might upset your appetite. That, my dear Major, would make Teri exceedingly angry since she has spent half the afternoon in the kitchen overseeing tonight’s dinner.” He shrugged in a typical European gesture. “Some other time, perhaps, when I know you better.”
Pitt spun the last swallow of scotch around in the glass and wondered what he had gotten himself into. Von Till, he decided, was either some kind of nut or a very shrewd operator.
“May I get you another drink?” asked von Till
“Don’t bother, I’ll get it.” Pitt finished the drink and walked over to the bar and poured another. He stared at von Till “From what I’ve read about World War I aviation, the circumstances behind the death of Kurt Heibert are nebulous. According to official German records, he was shot down by the British and crashed somewhere in the Aegean Sea. However, the records fail to mention the name of Heibert’s victorious opponent. They also fail to state if the body was found.”
Von Till idly petted the dog. His eyes seemed lost in the past for a few moments. Finally, he said, “Kurt waged his own private war with the British back in 1918. He seldom flew against them coolly or efficiently. He handled his machine wildly and attacked their formations like a man possessed with a spastic devil. When he was in the air, he cursed and raved and pounded his fists on the edge of the cockpit until they bled. On take-off he always revved his engine to a roaring full throttle so that his Albatros leaped off the ground like a frightened bird. And yet, when he was not on patrol and could forget the war for a few moments, he could be a man of great humor, much unlike your American conception of the German soldier.”
Pitt shook his head slowly with a hint of a smile. “You must forgive me, Herr von Till, but most of my comrades-in-arms have yet to meet a German soldier who was a barrel of laughs.”