Old demons and purple gowns

I chose the table in the corner, in a canopy of shadows. It always had to be a corner, a nook, or some spot where I wouldn't be so noticed. Not because I wasn't much to look at. In the right light, with a more sultry attitude, I daresay I might've had at least one or two men, asking me for a dance. And I could certainly give them a run for their money. But this wasn't a night for cheap thrills and a placid foxtrot. Everything around this meeting had been planned out ahead of time. The seedy cocktail bar, the day on which they played German music for the nine O'clock waltz, even my lilac, rayon dress that was more daringly low-cut than most of my other frocks. I understood well by now, that everything had to go according to plan.

I waited with an air of coolness, sipping on a glass of pinot Gris as the minutes melted away. Inside, however, my heart was racing. I was all confidence when I made the arrangement through my contact at the DaVinci garret, certain that tonight would lead to a break-through in my investigation, but now that I was sitting here, waiting for the man I intended to interrogate, I felt sick to my stomach. I'd never done this before. It was easy to be a witness from both near and afar, but actually stepping over that invisible line to become the hunter for justice was unfamiliar territory. I used to fantasize about being this glamourous spy, slipping in and out of covert operations the way a mouse uses shadows to stay hidden. That spy-counterpart of mine would've been ashamed to see the real me, a bundle of raw nerves, over the possibility of a mere conversation.

Finally, I saw him enter the room. Handsome, in the warm light that swung from the uncovered bulbs above, but in the shadows, did I see his true face. Eyes the colour of glaciers, German-blond hair, slicked back so smoothly it could've been painted on, his complexion unnaturally pale it seemed sickly. Then there was his scar. A thick, messy one that ran from his left cheekbone, right down to the corner of his mouth.

"Colette?" It was the name I'd proposed to use at the garret. One I'd been committing to memory.

"Monsieur Heinrich. Please, sit down. Would you like anything to drink?"

"Whisky and soda, a double."

I waved over one of the waitresses and gave her the order, careful not to add another glass for myself. I lost too much control with alcohol and I needed as much control tonight as I could muster.

"So Colette, to what do I owe the honor tonight? If you wish me to dance with you, I'm afraid you'll be very disappointed. My friends always told me I had two left feet."

"I'm sure that's just modesty on your part Monsieur, but a dance partner wasn't on the cards tonight. I'm hoping to renew an old acquaintance this summer and I was told you might be able to help me."

"I'm not sure how but if you explain it, I'll do my best to try."

He flashed me a dimpled smile. One that might've made a younger me giggle and blush, had it not come from a German soldier. Younger me was long gone however, and had nothing to do with this mission.

"Back in '42, I knew one of your associates, Adolph Cramer. I had to go to Poland for a while, on business, and I was introduced to him in Krakow through a mutual friend. He seemed such an interesting man, not friendly exactly, but interesting. We didn't know each other for long though. I was sent to some Polish camps in January when the allies arrived so our acquaintance was brought to an end. I've been very curious to know what became of that man."

"You're asking me about Adolph Cramer?" He sounded as taken aback as I'd anticipated. If my sister was made aware of Cramer's reputation in passing, I had no doubt that his friends were in ignorance. "Because you want to know about him?"

"It's an odd request, I grant you. I know of his zealous reputation; perhaps that's part of my curiosity. Sometimes that attitude even made me laugh. You see, I couldn't tell half the time, when he was joking and when he was serious. Knowing him was like trying to solve the world's most morbid riddle."

"I think I know what you mean. Like Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? One side of him was ordinary to me, almost charming. The other side...I won't say it scared me. A lot of what he said wasn't anything I hadn't dealt with before. It was his attitude towards it that I found disturbing. He spoke of the things he'd done as if he were a boy on St. Nicholas day, getting everything on his wish-list. Again, it wasn't surprising, but it was unusual. I'm sure you've noticed that yourself."

The analogy was apt, to the subject. A being that was half-human, half-monster? That was Adolph Cramer, to the letter.

"You've made me think of that old story, all over again. I used to read it with an old friend of mine, on dark, stormy nights. Whenever there was lightening outside, we would worry there was a new monster, being born. But monsters don't just come from nowhere, do they?"

"Yes. Many monsters take a lot of time and effort to become what they are."

And some are made into monsters through a dangerous lack of understanding. But he wasn't going to say that, was he?

"Monsters fascinate me, Monsieur Heinrich. Particularly when they're multi-faceted. That was mostly why I wanted to get back in touch with Adolph, if he's still reachable. I understand, under the circumstances, that you may not be able to give me a direct address, but might you know of a way I can pass a message on to him?"

"Are you sure this is wise, Mademoiselle? It is dangerous these days, to be associated with former Nazi's. There are a great many who have every reason to want these people imprisoned, or dead."

"Are you sure it is wise, Monsieur, to mention them aloud? I am aware that there are some dangers to this, but the world cannot just expect me to treat those who were my friends as monsters, just because they say it is so. Life does not work so simply."

"I couldn't agree with you more. So many of my own friends are either in hiding or in prison. And we are just expected to change our ideologies? To apologize when we haven't done anything wrong? It's funny isn't it? How we're never allowed to decide who we're meant to be. Men in nice uniforms tell us to blindly put our faith in them. To follow them into the unknown, regardless of whether we could live or die, because it is our destiny to die for the one we believe in, isn't it? Thousands upon thousands have died for Christ, our fellow man have died in the name of the Keiser, and those who died in this war died because of the man we followed. Not for him. Yet, this man had us believing that these deaths were necessary. That it was all for the greater good. Isn't that sickening?"

Was that regret, seeping into his defense? I didn't expect it. I hadn't been at this for very long, but in my experience with former soldiers, I saw everything but regret in their eyes.

"That is an even harder puzzle to decipher, you know. Debates between those who died for a cause and those who died because of that cause. We're all monsters at the end of the day. Because no matter how noble our intentions are, our actions will hurt at least one person who doesn't deserve it."

"So, you're resigned to being a monster too? Even in such a beautiful gown?"

"The world is full of monsters, Monsieur. Monsters, masquerading as humans. It's problematic because there are monsters around, trying to be more human. Sometimes it comes from remorse, sometimes for salvation, sometimes it is just one, trying to prove that they are not all they are told they'll ever amount to. But how do we tell who are genuine and who are hiding behind a mask?"

"Well, I find I get a long way by asking honest questions and expecting honest answers. So, what kind of monster are you, Mademoiselle?"

"I think I'll give you that answer when I can find out what kind of a monster Adolph Cramer was. Maybe then, I'll know myself well enough to say."

"Very well then. I have a friend who works in a shipping company that exports coal internationally. The company is called Beqa and this friend of mine goes by the name of Emil Clavele. Meet with me here in a weeks time with your message and twenty francs. I'll see to it that your message is delivered."

"Do I have your word on that?"

"You can trust me with this one errand." He swore, flashing me another dimpled smile. One, I was sure, carried an obvious purpose.

"Well Monsieur!" I forced one of my own, standing up as a high-paced waltz began to play in the background. "Now that our business has concluded, will you be my partner for this dance? Don't worry if you think you can't dance; it's just so lucky that I can."

"Can you now? Well, with an offer like that, it would be rude of me to refuse."

With his hands on my body, I bore through the ordeal a little longer as the thought of going home and spending the night in the arms of my beau brought me my only relief. A monster? Yes, he was. Me? Perhaps, but never of my own making. I spent most of my life being told that I was something or another. And he spoke of never having choices? He had no idea how that felt. But he wasn't important to me. He was only a clerk in one of the camps; a small pawn on the chessboard. If I could track down Adolph Cramer, find out everything he knew, only then would I know the kind of monsters I was dealing with. Whether or not they wanted to be human-beings again didn't matter to me anymore.