Free The Hess Cross by James Thayer Page B

absolute secret. If I get wind of any leaks—and believe me, I will—everyone will be put into a barracks with a twenty-four-hour guard until the court-martial. That sounds harsh, Commander, but secrecy is vital here."
    "There'll be no problem with the men. My engineer is an RAF volunteer from Chicago. He's been salivating ever since I told him our destination. He and the others don't want barracks duty."
    As Stratton wove his way back to the cockpit ladder, Josef Ludendorf, sitting in the seat of Crown's left, leaned toward Crown and asked in a voice fraught with tension, "Is everything all right?"
    "Yes, of course. The commander just told me we'd be landing in Chicago shortly."
    Ludendorf had been nervous throughout the flight. He had not tried to hide it, and told Crown that he had flown only twice before. Both prior flights had been accompanied by heaving sickness. He had managed to contain himself thus far. The EDC chief was a slight man, perhaps five feet, five inches tall. He was losing his hair, and he slicked down long strands on the side of his head over the bald spot. He wore rimless spectacles and constantly shoved them back on his nose. A small red spot glowed from both sides of his nose where the ill-fitting glasses kept the skin perpetually raw. His mouth was small and pinched. At first Crownattributed the constant cringe on Ludendorf's face to his fear of flying, but later, as the bomber left the turbulent air of the North Atlantic and the ride became smooth, Crown realized the fearful expression was chronic.
    Ludendorf was a bifurcated man. Crown's first impression of a hesitant, retiring, and anemic individual was dispelled soon after their conversation about Hess's interrogation began. Somewhere over the North Atlantic, Ludendorf had launched himself into the briefing, happy to be diverted from grim thoughts of the flight. Ludendorf's cracking voice firmed. His presentation had been systematic and complete. And he had made what could have been a weary account of Hess's medical condition fascinating.
    Crown now saw that Ludendorf was beginning to lose himself to the terror of the approaching landing. The EDC chief sucked on his lower lip and gripped the chair arms as if he were visiting a dentist. Crown attempted to shift Ludendorf's thoughts by asking, "You say you're convinced Hess isn't insane?"
    Ludendorf wheeled in his seat to Crown, his eyes wide and his left hand ready to gesture for a conversation that would not require gestures. He pitched into a speech. "Yes. Yes. I'm told by the psychiatrists that although he shows symptoms of several mental disorders, most of the time he is lucid." Ludendorf spoke with the soft German accent of one who has spent years trying to overcome that last vestige of his origin. "I did not have trouble communicating with him. That is to say, he had no difficulty complaining to me about various things. It was often hard keeping his mind on the subject at hand. . . ."
    To slow Ludendorf down, Crown interjected, "What did Hess complain about?"
    "Numerous grievances. His most frequent was that secret agents were trying to poison his food. He would notspecify whether they were German or British agents, but he mumbled things like Himmler was out to get him. He began losing weight, so one of the guards agreed to sample Hess's food before Hess ate it. This quieted him a little, but even when he dined with us, he was very suspicious. If the food was served from a common tray, he would select a portion, but never one nearest him. He also accused the jailers of plotting to destroy his sanity by pumping the sounds of motorcycles, airplanes, and machine guns into his cell. These sounds were hallucinations. Then he complained that his cell was electronically bugged. We could not convince him otherwise."
    "Was it?" asked Crown.
    "Of course. But it should not have concerned him." Ludendorf managed a weak smile. He knew why Crown had asked the same questions he had answered hours