Ellen did not sleep well Wednesday night and by about four on Thursday morning, she gave up and rose. For hours into the night she had read the philosophy and vision of The New Aryan Order and speed read Mein Kempf supported by numerous cups of coffee and diet cola. She studied her alias and Nick’s and created safe answers in her head for any questions she might get asked.
Ellen wanted this assignment. She hadn’t told Mitch or the team but this was very personal to her and it was something she could do to help, to make a difference. Beetson, her name, was Scottish from her grandfather’s line, but her grandmother was a Rosenberg. Ellen’s grandmother, as a young woman of twenty, was deported by the Germans; her two sisters, three brothers and parents died in concentration camps. Ellen remembered hearing her mother tell the stories passed down; when her grandmother was liberated, still a young woman in her mid-twenties, she had nowhere to go, no family left and no house to return to. She followed the stream of displaced people for years searching for cousins, aunts or uncles but with no success. Then she realized she had to begin a new life or she would never live. Ellen’s grandmother emigrated to England but within six months of arriving in London met a Scottish gentleman, married him and the Beetson clan continued even if the Rosenberg family did not.
Ellen had tossed and turned, deciding whether to declare to Mitch that she had a vested interest. She decided not to; she had to do this and he might prevent her.
Mitch and Adam waited in a small room at the headquarters of The New Aryan Order.
Adam looked around. “Nothing that says national socialist order here. We could be waiting to see the bank manager.” He drummed his fingers on the chair, then straightened his tie.
“Making you nervous?” Mitch asked.
“Well yeah actually. I’m not big on idiots.”
Mitch laughed. He glanced at his watch. They had been offered only a thirty-minute meeting and whoever was to meet them was already five minutes late. The door opened and Mitch rose as Thorsten Schmid entered the room. Mitch introduced himself and Adam and the men shook hands.
“Please take a seat,” Thorsten said.
Mitch sized him up. He was thin and wiry, which was accentuated by a slim-line fitted navy suit. He had to be about a foot smaller than Mitch and Adam, with thinning blond hair and prominent cheekbones.
“Thanks for seeing us,” Mitch started. “We’re investigating the sabotage of Benjamin Hoefer’s book launches at the Holocaust Memorial Museum and the Jewish Community Center.”
“The FBI is doing that these days?” Thorsten raised his eyebrows.
“It’s a bit more complex than just the sabotage, but that’s one element,” Mitch said.
“And you think because we want an America for Americans that it must be us?” Thorsten asked.
Mitch noticed Thorsten’s leg was shaking slightly. He was more bravado than confidence.
“No, not at all,” Mitch said.
Thorsten looked surprised and Mitch leaned forward. “But we thought if anyone knew who might be in the market to shake up Benjamin Hoefer or move him along, this was as good a place as any to start.”
Thorsten nodded. “Yes. I imagine so. I know of Benjamin Hoefer of course, I saw the publicity around the book launch.”
“Have you read the book?” Adam asked.
“Yes, I have,” Thorsten said. “I read widely, especially propaganda.”
Mitch saw the hardening of Thorsten’s eyes.
“As for who might be trying to scare him or shut down the promotion, that’s more likely a nutter than our organization. You would be amazed how many people out there think the Holocaust was a hoax,” Thorsten said. “Plus we get our share of punks and rebels trying to join. That’s not who we are. We’re not outspoken, uneducated and out of control. We’re structured, affluent and wanting a good future for our children and our country. What Benjamin Hoefer is doing is of little interest to us.”
“But enough interest to read his book?” Mitch asked.
“I like to gather different perspectives on history.”
Mitch nodded.
“So any names, organizations or contacts that you think might help us?” Adam asked.
Thorsten shook his head. “Not really, it’s not like we monitor or keep records of other groups or applicants we reject. Will that be all?”
“Just one more question,” Mitch said. “Did you have a relative visit from Germany about ten years ago by the name of Julian Schmid, who might have had a reason to see Eli Hoefer while he was alive?”
“We have many relatives who visit from all over the world. Julian might well be one although the name doesn’t ring a bell. I’d have to ask Dirk. I can assure you however, none of our relatives would have any reason to speak to a Jew.”
Nick and Ellen waited in the foyer. It was their first meeting of The New Aryan Order and they looked the part. They saw Mitch and Adam leave the building and studied them with cool observation; no one would guess they knew each other.
Nick reached for Ellen’s hand. “Okay?” he asked.
She looked up at him and smiled like the loving wife. “Of course.”
An attractive woman in her thirties arrived in the foyer and greeted them. “Mr. and Mrs. Bauer?”
Nick smiled. “Nicholas,” he said, offering his hand, “and this is my wife Ellen.”
Stephanie Schmid shook both of their hands. “I’m so delighted you have taken an interest in joining us. Please come through and meet our CEO, my husband Dirk, and we can talk about formalities.”
She opened a side door off the foyer and showed them through to a palatial office. As they entered, Dirk Schmid rose. His eyes widened at the sight of Nicholas Everett—tall, blond, and athletic. Perfect. A version of himself a decade younger and next to him was his little blond wife. I’ll have her, he thought with satisfaction.