Free Soul Intent by Dennis Batchelder Page B

didn’t want to talk about it.
    But James apparently still cared. “They claim Goering promised to give the gold back,” he said, “but he changed his mind after he was indicted.”
    It was somewhat interesting after all. She threw a glance at Baba, then turned back to James. “How do you know they’re Nazis?” she whispered.
    “The Schutzstaffel tattoo.”
    This elite SS military group was responsible, Flora learned during the trials, for the party’s race-centric activities, including the enslavement and killing of the Jews, Gypsies, priests, and homosexuals. Unfortunately for most SS members, they had their blood type tattooed on the underside of their left arms. Flora thought it ironic the Allies were using these symbols of German practicality to identify and imprison the most vicious Nazis.
    Baba turned around. “Is the paint ready?” she asked.
    “Sorry, Baba.” Flora glanced up at Hermann Goering’s pale blue projected eyes, then squeezed the tubes of paint onto the palette and mixed in the turpentine. She handed Baba the palette, then transferred the proof sheet to the easel.
    “Let’s let the projector cool down a tad,” James said. He pulled the plug and the room went dark.
     
    An hour later, Flora and James sat in the back and watched Baba paint Goering’s eyes.
    Flora couldn’t stop thinking about the Nazi underground. If they could demonstrate that Goering had stolen their gold, Mr. Morgan would have to stop the deposit.
    Was it too much to hope for? She looked at James. “Do the Nazis know we have the gold?”
    “They suspect we do, but I didn’t confirm it.”
    “I want to talk to them,” she whispered.
    He shook his head. “These guys are too dangerous.”
    She grabbed his arm. “We have to try. We can’t let that monster win.”
    James stared at her.
    She silently willed him to say yes.
    He nodded his head. “I’ll set up a meeting.”
    Flora darted a glance at Baba, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

nineteen
    September 1946
    Nuremberg, Occupied Germany
     
    James set up the meeting with the Nazis for today, the last Saturday of September. The defense had rested in the war crimes trial, and the world awaited the verdict. Mr. Morgan was busy working out transfer details with Soul Identity’s Swiss depositary representatives. Flora and James had the day off.
    James drove the Jeep onto the main street. “It should take us thirty minutes to get there,” he said.
    Flora sat next to him and thought about what she would ask the Nazis.
    “I still don’t see why we need to talk to them,” James said.
    Why was this so hard for him to understand? “Once they admit Goering stole the gold from them, Mr. Morgan won’t deposit it.”
    James shook his head. “They’d never admit that.”
    “They want the gold, don’t they?”
    “Of course.”
    Flora smiled. “So we tell them they can’t have it unless we get the truth about its origins.”
    James glanced at her, then back at the road. He looked at her again. “How old are you, hon?”
    “Seventeen.”
    “Seventeen.” He shook his head. “Well, I guess I was pretty naïve, too, ten years ago.”
    She crossed her arms. “Are you mocking me, James Little?”
    He looked in the mirror, then maneuvered the Jeep over to the side of the road. He flipped the ignition lever down and the engine stopped.
    She stared out the windshield, arms still crossed.
    “Flora, look at me,” he said.
    She twisted in her seat, then looked up to meet his gaze.
    “Do you want these Nazis to get that gold?” he asked.
    “Are you crazy? Of course not!”
    “Then smarten up. Most of the Nazis we missed have escaped to Spain and South America. Some joined the French Foreign Legion. Now only the wily ones are left—ones smart enough to be able to hide in Occupied Germany for over a year. If you go waltzing in and tell them that you have their gold, what do you think they’re going to do?”
    “They’ll tell us the truth.” She stared