"At the harbour. He has a building there. But I was only there once, so I am not really sure about the exact place," Smith said, his eyes flicking nervously between Paul, Werner and Heydrich.
"The harbour?" Heydrich asked. "Is it a... how did you call it... CIA base?"
"I think so..." Smith stammered.
"You think so?" Heydrich repeated, annoyed.
"Look, I was there only once, and for most of the drive they kept a hood over my head," Smith said.
"Then how do you know it was the harbour?" Werner asked, stepping forward.
"The fish," Smith answered decisively. "There was a very strong smell of fish. Their building must be near a fishing company or something like that. And the waves, the loud beeping..."
Paul turned to Heydrich. "Let's ask Gimpel about any fish factories at the harbour."
Heydrich nodded, and the three of them exited Smith's house. Outside, a man leaned against the railing of the veranda. He turned when he heard the door open.
"How was it?" Gimpel asked, adjusting the collar of his expensive suit.
"We have a lead," Heydrich answered.
Gimpel's eyes widened briefly before he asked, "What is it?"
"The harbour. A fish factory maybe?" Heydrich said, expectantly.
Gimpel leaned back slightly against the railing, his palms bracing behind him.
Paul noticed one of his index fingers trembling, raising an eyebrow. When their eyes met, Gimpel straightened immediately, sliding his hands into his pockets.
"There are several. You can of course check them all, but I can go through some files. Maybe I can find something. Give me until tomorrow," Gimpel said.
"No," Paul replied. "We go there today and finish this by tomorrow at the latest. Any delay could put us on the CIA's list."
Gimpel pressed his lips together, then nodded. "You are the boss, Herr Jaeger."
"Well... in any case I have to get going. I am meeting a congressman this afternoon. I wish you luck, gentlemen," Gimpel said as he turned and walked toward his car.
"Good luck to you too, Gimpel," Paul called after him.
Gimpel paused briefly, looked back, then continued on.
"Let's go... and let Smith go. I don't think he will pose a threat," Paul said.
"You sure?" Heydrich asked, surprised.
"If he runs to them, it will only confirm that he cooperated with us. They wouldn't spare him, and he knows that." Paul said, watching Smith through the living room window.
When Heydrich stepped back into the house, leaving Werner and Paul alone, Paul moved a little closer.
"Werner," he said in German, his voice low. "This went quicker than expected, so I have to ask for this favor now. I know you would like to come with us, but your mission is just as important." Paul placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
"Can't you send one of the Gestapo lackeys? Or Heydrich? Why does it have to be me?" Werner asked, visibly upset.
"Because I trust you the most, and you understand how important this operation is. Think of the bigger picture, Werner. This could be decisive, and if what we suspected turns out to be true, we could be one step ahead..." Paul said, looking directly into his eyes.
Werner sighed. "You are probably right. I will do it, but I will need more men."
"You will get them. One man is still at the motel, and another is guarding the coast near the U-boat, supplying it. Take them with you," Paul said.
Werner nodded, his jaw clenched.
The two men gave each other a silent, brotherly embrace before they parted ways.
One hour later
"You see that?" Heydrich asked, pointing at a truck in the distance. "That is the third one in half an hour. Quite a lot of traffic for a small fish factory."
Paul nodded and shifted his posture, his gaze dropping down toward the distant ground. The wind blew harshly against his face and hair.
Paul, Heydrich and another Gestapo agent had climbed up a massive container crane. Now they lay flat on top of it, using binoculars to spy on the enormous harbour below.
"They exited over there..." Heydrich began, then stopped abruptly, pressing the binoculars harder against his eyes.
"What is it?" Paul asked, raising an eyebrow and pushing himself up slightly.
"It is jackpot. We have them most definitely," Heydrich said, a bright smile forming as he handed the binoculars to Paul.
Paul pressed them to his eyes, following the direction Heydrich had been focused on.
"Are those rifles?" Paul murmured. "And pistols?"He watched the men unload several crates from the truck. Some were opened, revealing heavy weaponry inside.
"Either the fish are quite aggressive these days or we just found the rats' nest," Paul said, lowering the binoculars.
"We have to survey them a bit longer to be sure," Paul said, handing the binoculars to the Gestapo man.
"Gustaf, right?" Paul asked, studying the young man in front of him.
"Yes, Sir," he answered proudly.
"Here." Paul handed him a large black case that had been lying beside them, giving him a knowing look.
Gustaf nodded silently as he received the case.
Paul and Heydrich began climbing down the tall crane again, the wind feeling even harsher than before. Their coats fluttered wildly as they descended step by step.
The New York skyline stood proudly in the distance, its lights illuminating the increasingly dark world below. The sun had almost fully set by the time Paul and Heydrich reached the final step.
"Hey, what are you doing?!" a hoarse voice shouted just as Paul and Heydrich jumped down, landing on the asphalt.
A worker in a reflective vest came running toward them, but before he reached them, a car door suddenly opened in his path. He crashed into it, stumbled back and fell hard onto the ground. As he tried to get up, a large man stepped out of the car, the same one from Smith's house, and punched the worker once in the face.
"Sorry, Sir," the Gestapo man said, rubbing his fist.
"No problem, Michael," Heydrich replied, clapping the oversized man on the back.
"Did you book the motel?" Paul asked.Michael nodded immediately.
"Good," Paul said. "Gustaf will take the first shift and you will take the second. Survey their supposed base."
Michael nodded again, and the group headed toward their car.
By the time they reached the motel, which stood practically next to the harbour, exhaustion had taken hold. They barely made it to their beds after the long day.
Night settled in. One by one, the lights in the motel went out, replaced by the quiet sounds of crickets and the faint rustling of bushes. The night was peaceful.
Yet what Paul and Heydrich did not know was that someone else was having a very different night. In the heart of New York, in Manhattan, lights still burned at the late hour. Loud noises echoed through one of the rooms. It sounded like glass shattering, followed by heavy hammering.
Only when the first pale line of morning touched the horizon did the noise finally stop. Silence followed, broken only by the slow, rhythmic ringing of a telephone.
Shortly after sunrise, a man stepped out of the building.
His usually immaculate hair was disheveled. Dark circles clung beneath his eyes. His suit, the same kind he had worn the day before, was wrinkled and dusted with tiny glass shards that glittered in the early light.
He walked stiffly, jaw clenched, passing a homeless man who raised his cup.
"Kind sir..." the homeless man pleaded.
The man did not even look at him. He kept walking, expression cold, almost drained.
"Wearing such a fancy suit and not even sparing a penny..." the homeless man muttered, sinking back down in frustration.
But the man was already gone, disappearing around the corner, moving with a purpose known only to him.
In a different part of Manhattan, the man appeared again, skyscrapers flanking him on both sides, leaving half his face in shadow.
After a while, he reached one of the taller buildings and stopped for a moment, visibly hesitant. Then he stepped inside, silent and tense. He pulled his hand from his pocket and reached toward the elevator button. His index finger trembled noticeably as he pressed it. The moment the button lit up, he hid his hand in his pocket again.
The elevator arrived with a soft chime. It carried the man upward.
When he stepped out, stark streaks of sunlight cut across the carpeted floor, illuminating the office ahead of him. On the desk, a small metal nameplate caught the light for a brief second.
William Carry CEO
Outside, the sunlight washed over New York, promising a warm day.
The same golden light warmed Paul's cheek as he stood by the window of his motel room, staring into the distance.
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