Dictator

7

Wayne sat huddled with Ishihara alone in a small two-man tent. The night before, the patrol had taken them to a Leutnant Johann Mohr. Leutnant Mohr had communicated with them in rather limited English. Then he had tried to contact his Hauptmann, who put him off until this morning; Ishihara explained that the Hauptmann was the German equivalent of captain. So Wayne and’ Ishihara had been put into this tent for the night, under guard.

To keep his guests away from the soldiers, Leutnant Mohr had ordered one of his men to bring their breakfast to the tent, maintaining their isolation. Wayne was finishing his bowl of hot gruel. Ishihara had already put his aside. For now, they were simply left to wait. Wayne felt certain that Leutnant Mohr was afraid to take responsibility for making any decision regarding them.

“We’ll have to continue faking our way with some kind of background story,” said Wayne quietly. “Will this be acceptable to you under the Laws of Robotics?”

“Yes,” said Ishihara. “The First Law requires that I keep you safe as I aid your mission. To do so, we must convince our hosts that we belong.”

Finally the flap of the tent was drawn back and Leutnant Mohr leaned down to look inside. He was a tall, slender young man with blondish brown hair. His stained gray uniform was torn in several places but had been brushed free of surface dirt. “Hauptmann Eber will see you now,” he said in heavily accented English. “Come now.”

Wayne crawled out of the tent and wrapped his cloak tightly around him again. As he and Ishihara followed Leutnant Mohr, the soldiers who had been guarding them fell into step around them. Leutnant Mohr had been courteous to Wayne and Ishihara, in case they were telling the truth, but he had taken no chances, either.

As they walked among the rows of tents, Wayne could see that the German army around him was in poor shape. Supplies and equipment were stacked on farm and peasant carts pulled by little horses with fuzzy winter coats. These vehicles, in fact, were smaller and more poorly maintained than the wagons in the Roman baggage train back in A.D. 9.

The soldiers around them had not shaved, mended their clothes or boots, or washed with soap. Many were obviously very ill, coughing and wheezing in the cold air. A large number also had dirty bandages on wounds that had apparently not been sufficiently serious to warrant sending them to the rear. Suddenly Wayne realized that Leutnant Mohr and his men had no winter coats or boots. He turned to look around at the other soldiers in the camp, and saw no sign of winter clothing anywhere.

Leutnant Mohr brought them to an officer standing over a metal barrel, in which a small fire burned. He was a burly man with a full face and several days’ growth of brown beard. His face was taut against the cold wind.

Leutnant Mohr saluted and spoke to his Hauptmann in German, then turned to Wayne and Ishihara. “Hauptmann Uwe Eber.”

Hauptmann Eber spoke to Wayne in German, staring at Wayne grimly. Leutnant Mohr translated into English.

“You are Swedish? Why are you speaking English?” Hauptmann Eber frowned.

“Ishihara and I have only English as a common language,” said Wayne. “And Ishihara can speak German with Leutnant Mohr, but I can’t. Leutnant Mohr and I also share English.”

Hauptmann Eber nodded, listening to the translation. “Why would a Swede be here on the Russian front?”

“I am Swedish, but partial to your cause. My friend and I are working with Swedish intelligence.”

“Are you?” Hauptmann Eber turned his icy gaze on Ishihara. “Leutnant Mohr says you are Japanese? You are clearly not Japanese. What is this nonsense?”

“I am not Japanese,” said Ishihara. “I lived in Japan for many years and took the name of my host family out of respect for them. This is why I have a Japanese name and also why my German and my knowledge of Europe are flawed.”

“What is your purpose here?”

“We have come to the front in order to locate a Russian spy who may have infiltrated the German front,” said Ishihara, in a confident, businesslike tone.

For the first time, Hauptmann Eber’s face registered concern. His eyes widened momentarily, then he studied Ishihara’s face. Without looking away, he spoke sharply to Leutnant Mohr, who saluted, turned, and hurried off alone.

Hauptmann Eber did not speak. He looked around the camp and patiently warmed his hands over the little fire. The soldiers in Leutnant Mohr’s escort edged closer to the fire, eyeing the captain warily.

“He has sent Leutnant Mohr to find his own superior,” Ishihara said quietly in English to Wayne. “A Major Bach.”

Wayne nodded. “He’s just like Mohr. Nobody wants to take any responsibility for us. They keep going up the line of command.”

“This system works on fear,” said Ishihara. “The punishment for making mistakes is severe. It helps to focus authority at the top, where this government wants power to gather.”

In a few minutes, Leutnant Mohr came trotting back. He stopped and saluted. He and Hauptmann Eber exchanged a few quick words in German. Then Leutnant Mohr switched to English again.

“Major Bach has suggested that we all meet in Oberst Schepke’s command tent.”

Ishihara nodded politely. “Ja.”

“Just as you were saying,” said Wayne, with a slight grin, as they turned and began to walk. “Which rank are we going to see now?”

“Oberst is the equivalent of colonel,” said Ishihara.

In the command tent, Wayne stood patiently as all the German officers reported in German to their Oberst. Major Bach was a short, burly man with dark hair. Oberst Schepke, a scowling, gaunt, hawk-nosed man, stood formally behind a battered wooden table, listening and asking questions. Then he used Leutnant Mohr as an interpreter to speak to his visitors.

“The Oberst has ordered me to use English so that both of you can understand,” said Leutnant Mohr, turning to face Wayne and Ishihara. “He requires your credentials.”

Wayne felt a surge of panic. He could not think of anything to say. Worried, he glanced at Ishihara.

“You misunderstand,” Ishihara said, with a formality and stiffness that matched those of the Oberst. “We are undercover, traveling across the national boundaries of many nations. Certainly we could not operate effectively against the Russian spy we seek if we carried documents that would expose our true mission.”

“Then present whatever travel documents you have. You must have passports of some sort.”

“They were taken from us and not returned,” said Ishihara smoothly.

“By whom?”

“By petty bureaucrats in Switzerland.”

Wayne was impressed. Ishihara was demonstrating a deft ability to improvise. Wayne assumed he was drawing on his limited history of this time.

“I must have some way to verify your identity,” Leutnant Mohr said for Oberst Schepke.

“Field Marshal Mannstein will speak for us,” said Ishihara coolly.

Wayne had never heard of him.

“Mannstein,” repeated the Oberst, showing some surprise as he recognized the name without translation. Then he spoke to Leutnant Mohr in German again.

“Contacting Mannstein from here will take some time. He is still on the Finnish border, moving on Leningrad,” Leutnant Mohr translated.

Wayne suppressed a smile. That was probably why Ishihara had picked that particular individual as a reference. Also, of course, Finland was next to Sweden, where Wayne had supposedly originated. That might help convince Oberst Schepke that Mannstein was a legitimate reference.

“We do not have time to waste,” said Ishihara, maintaining his calm, reserved delivery.” The spy we seek came this way. He is probably among us now, observing conditions and positions on our front. Soon, however, he will head for the Soviet lines to report what he has found.”

“How much do you know about him? Do you know his appearance and what name he is using?”

“We know exactly what he looks like. We don’t know what he is calling himself.”

“You have a photograph? Give it to me.”

“Our photograph has been lost on our travels. We have journeyed far, and quickly, to get here.”

“Then describe him.”

Ishihara described the short, slender component robot, who was physically identical to the other five who comprised MC Governor in combination with him.

Oberst Schepke was silent, looking at Ishihara and Wayne thoughtfully. Then he spoke again, nodding at their clothing. Leutnant Mohr continued to translate.

“Why are you dressed this way?”

“We have had to travel alone, with little money and no support, through much of Europe. In the wild mountains of Carpathia, our normal traveling clothes were reduced to rags. We accepted these clothes from Slavic peasants in a remote mountain village, where civilization has barely reached.”

“Yes. I have seen such places. We have no clothes to spare here, either.”

Ishihara nodded his acknowledgment. “Oberst, may we get on with our task? This spy must not be allowed to report your positions to the enemy.”

Oberst Schepke studied Ishihara for a long moment without speaking. Wayne could see that he was torn between the fear of a spy in his camp and the fact that his visitors had no proof to back up their story. The Oberst, too, had to fear the reprisals of his own superiors if he made a mistake-regarding either possibility. Then he spoke again, briefly.

“Leutnant Mohr-that is, I-will escort you about the lines within the area under my command,” Leutnant Mohr translated. “If your quest leads you into the command of another Oberst, you must return to me for an introduction.”

“Thank you, Oberst,” said Ishihara.

Oberst Schepke nodded sharply and barked an order. All the soldiers snapped to attention, angled their right arms up, palms forward, and spoke in unison: “Heil Hitler. ”

The soldiers did an about-face and marched out, but Oberst Schepke eyed Wayne and Ishihara suspiciously.

Suddenly Ishihara imitated the salute. Following his lead, so did Wayne. “Heil Hitler.”

Ishihara followed the soldiers out and Wayne stayed close to him. Outside the tent, Wayne let out a long sigh and relaxed for the first time since they had walked in. Most of the soldiers dispersed, but Leutnant Mohr remained.

“You were slow with the salute, my friends,” said Leutnant Mohr, looking pointedly at both of them.

“I fear, Leutnant, that we are out of practice,” said Ishihara. “As intelligence officers in neutral countries, and sometimes behind enemy lines, we must be careful not to speak too quickly.”

Leutnant Mohr shrugged uncomfortably. “Where shall we begin? Do you have a particular place?”

“No,” said Ishihara. “Let us start simply by walking through the lines, asking questions of the soldiers. As we go, I shall describe our quarry to you. Perhaps he can be found among refugees or POWs.”

“Very well.”

As they began to explore the lines, Wayne surmised how Oberst Schepke had made his decision. Finding the spy was too important to ignore. Since only his visitors could identify him, they had to be given some chance to do so.

At the same time, he could not allow the strangers to wander around his camp unsupervised. Wayne also suspected that the Oberst had decided not to assign a higher ranking officer for this, for fear he would be embarrassed later if their story was not true. Yet he could not trust an enlisted man with this task. For that reason, as well as his ability to speak English, Leutnant Mohr had received the chore.