Nazi Gold

Chapter 10 — The Train to Weimar

Nina arrived in Germany after a two day trip from Edinburgh. To get to Weimar, she elected to take a train trip to get a feel for the country without looking down on everything. It was surprisingly cold in the mainland of Europe, but Germany was clearly having an early peak. Nina expected to see snow, but so far the towns she had passed were just prone to frigid winds and occasional downpours.

In her travel luggage, and she always travelled as light as possible, she had her best insulated boots and way too many pairs of socks. Some would say at a glance that Dr. Nina Gould was perhaps obsessed with her knitted footwear. Of all things, she preferred the alpaca variety sent to her by Padre Loredo from New Mexico, a gift which became habit after she helped him locate some old Mexican archival scripts on the Apocrypha.

Leaving the breathtaking historical churches and architecture of Erfurt after only a night of rest at a modest Bed & Breakfast, Nina embarked on her railway travel to meet Sam in Weimar. Regrettably she could not stay longer to do some sightseeing, because she had been unable to establish contact with her German friend, who she was hoping to ask to hold on to Sam’s camera until she could get there. It did not bother her that much, though, as she needed to see him, whether she wanted to admit it or not, and this was the perfect excuse. After all, did he not summon her?

Erfurt had more churches than houses, she thought. The brilliant ancient structures were definitely an architect’s wet dream, not so much more than it gave anthropologically inclined historians like her a bit of a boner. Nina smiled at her own thoughts. It was true what they say — one never really grows up past the slang and expressions of college life or youth in general, no matter what age you are or what profession has made you a community snob, an esteemed member of society.

The train’s steel on steel clacking was remarkably hypnotic, compelling Nina to lie back in her private compartment and enjoy the passing outside world through her square window.

She did not want to doze off, for fear of another nightmare or one of those annoying bouts of déjà vu she seemed to endure more and more of late. Her meds had her sleeping too much, nightmares included, so she ditched them. Thirteen hours of sleep a day was simply counter-productive in every way, she reckoned, and with or without the bad dreams, she still had to deal with the horrendous time lapses that somehow made her psychic. Like Groundhog Day, as Nina thought of it, she kept having episodes of déjà vu so vividly that she could almost pass herself off as a precognitive professional by now.

A woman’s hand appeared on the doorway of her compartment and a friendly plump face greeted her a moment later.

“Guten Tag!” the woman said cheerfully.

“Good morning.” Nina smiled wryly, not really in the mood for company.

“Do you mind if I sit here for a while? There are two men in my section who give me the creeps and I am getting off at the next station. I won’t be a bother,” she pitched to Nina in a sincere tone. A horrid turquoise windbreaker hugged her full figure, which looked comical to Nina.

“The next station is over 25 kilometers away,” Nina reminded her, more to cordially protest than to share information.

The woman sat down gratefully and replied with a smile, “I know.”

“Okay, well…I’m a smoker and…” Nina started to snap at the stranger, attempting to put her off.

“Me too! But we are not allowed to smoke on the train, didn’t you know?” she told Nina in the most patronizing tone she had ever heard.

“Yes,” Nina grunted passive aggressively, “I know that.” Irritated beyond control, Nina narrowed her eyes at the indifferent intruder and folded her arms over her chest like a disgruntled teenager and sank back into her bunk. She pulled her extra coat over her, a thick long angora wool number that made her look like a Womble when she wore it, and she gave the woman a steely look.

“If you don’t mind, I have not slept in a long time. I will be taking a nap for a while. Is that okay?” the petite historian lined her announcement with sarcasm, but the fat chick with the thick skin did not respond to her in turn with some snappy comment.

“Of course that is okay with me,” she smiled warmly and reinforced her unbearable obtuse manner with a firm grip on Nina’s forearm. The historian ground her teeth behind her closed lips, but she chose to ignore the unwelcome guest in her compartment and sleep it off. She hoped that, when she woke, they would have reached the next station and she’d be rid of her.

Two hours later, they had entered the province and Nina woke from a dreamless sleep, for once not plagued by nightmares of things she would rather have forgotten.

“Oh thank fuck for that,” she sighed through a half smile when she saw that she was once more alone in her quiet first class compartment. Learning from experience as a young university student, Nina had a habit of sleeping propped up against her baggage on the trains of Europe. It did not matter to her that she was now using proper luxury transport as a professional adult and regarded herself as a snob, no less, she still slept like this on public transport, no matter what extravagance they slapped on their menu’s.

Through the window she could see nothing but the black of night and she wondered what was hiding out there in the cloak of darkness. Staring into the reflective surface of the black square, Nina wondered what Sam was messing with this time. For all his experiences, for all his attempts at being less reckless, he always ended up stepping in dog shit — whether he was lured by money or simply had too much of a sense of adventure. It sounded serious and the fact that Sam was shot had Nina very worried for the degree in which he must have been involved in this one. It made her remember the weapons smuggling ring he exposed years before which cost him the loss of the love of his life, when he barely escaped with his own. This job must have been something similarly big, equally dangerous, for him to once more end up in the sight of a rifle.

“Excuse me, dear,” a woman suddenly said from the doorway, where her thick fingers locked around the door. Nina saw her reflection in the window she was staring at and her heart sank when she turned her head to face the woman and saw that it was the exact same woman she had tolerated in her compartment before.

“Come in,” Nina invited without any enthusiasm, if only to not endure the woman’s whiny voice or indifference to blatant insult. By now Nina had grown so accustomed to the constant repeats of events hitting her at least once a week, so much that she now treated the stubborn time loops as personal psychological flaws she would have to chalk up to some sort of post-traumatic stress bullshit.

The woman was going to speak, but he petite historian interrupted her.

“I know how annoying it must be for you, those men in your section,” she sighed matter-of-factly just to spook the overweight irritation in the ugly jacket. And it worked.

“Are you a physical person?” she asked Nina.

“A physical person? Well, I would think so. I keep in shape, although I’m a smoker, like you…” Nina tried to humor the woman by actually engaging in the conversation as the odd rows of street lamps and occasional yellow security beams started showing outside in the dark, slowly passing from one side of the black square to the other.

“You know I’m a smoker!” the astonished hen exclaimed, slamming her stubby hands together. “So, you must be a physic!”

Nina almost threw her head back and erupted in laughter, but noticing that they were approaching the station lightened her mood and she decided not to be a condescending bitch.

She smiled, “You mean, I’m psychic.”

“Yes, of course. That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” the woman frowned abruptly.

“Oh! Look! Weimar, we have arrived,” Nina smiled suddenly and pointed at the window where the central station came into view. It was almost 10pm, but Nina had made reservations at a hotel near Sam’s hospital. She could not wait to see him again, to look into his soft dark eyes and feel his essence envelope her once more. She always felt so safe around Sam Cleave — not in a survival way, but in an emotional way, as if she could tell him anything and he would never judge her, never hate her, never care about her flaws. Her feelings for Sam compelled her to throw herself into an unknown and potentially dangerous situation again, but she would not have it any other way.