The moment Werner entered the Residenz-Casino, commonly called the ‘Resi,’ he knew he had entered another world. ‘A fish out of water’ barely scratched the surface of how he felt while people brushed past him. Unseen like a cellophane man he watched the gyrations of the congregated mass on the dance floor cocooned in a cacophony of laughter, whistling and joy-filled screams and the general clatter of a night running wild. To his left was a cigarette stand. Making a beeline to it, he bought a pack of Sturm Neue Front for six pfennig and cringed at his extravagance. When the sweet tobacco smoke had filled his lungs several times and was exhaled, the improvised choreography in quick 4/4 time that swirled in front of him drew him in like a magnet. Casting aside his butt and with arms swaying and fast feet movement, he dissolved into the mass on the dance floor and gave himself over to the band’s ragtime jazz with its syncopated rhythms. He danced singularly, without the need of another person, yet he felt connected to everyone around him. He was aware of the precariousness of his present social status from its very inception, and that it could explode at any time, that it might not last, but, at this frenzied moment, soaked in perspiration, he didn’t care. He believed in himself and could handle whatever came his way. A hard purposeful jab at his ribs caused him to veer sharply to confront its source and his gaze was filled with the smiling face of Gisella.
“Well! You really can dance!” she yelled above the crowd, provocatively pulling him closer to her.
The moment was surreal for Werner as he stared into her eyes. He felt like they were the only ones on the dance floor. Then swoosh, it was gone.
“Table twenty-four. Soon.” And she shooed him off.
The music and the people crushed against him while he watched Gisella melt deeper into the crowd.
Werner lit up a cigarette while he peered around the nightclub from his vantage point at table twenty-four. One of the bodyguards, Fritz, stepped into his line of vision near steps leading to the basement beside the main entrance. When he looked again Fritz had disappeared. The phone on his table buzzed. Hesitant at first to lift the receiver, he let it buzz several times before he finally gave in and picked it up. “Umm…Hello?”
“I sent you a present.”
“Gisella?”
“Table twenty-four?”
Werner glanced up at the lighted number to make sure he was seated at the correct table. “Yes…” he replied with a certain degree of hesitancy. “Where are you?”
“I’m at thirty-six…other side of the dance floor. You might have to stand on your chair to see me.”
Hanging up the receiver, he climbed onto his chair and peered over the heads of the people on the dance floor until he found table thirty-six. But the raven-haired beauty waving at him was definitely not Gisella. Beside her sat a monocle-wearing, lean, stiff-backed man with slicked-down black hair. In his hand was a cigarette holder with a lit cigarette at its end. He nodded in Werner’s direction and pointed as if trying to tell him to pick something up. After a deep inhalation, Werner nodded back and stepped down with no idea what he meant. He recognized the man from a brief introduction at the police station during an interrogation of a communist earlier that day. Known only as Albert to him, Werner didn’t know his rank within the Sicherheitspolizei, security police, but he knew he carried some kind of clout by the guarded respect the others showed him. What he did learn before Gisella’s father dismissed him was that Germany had set up a secret aviation school near Lipetsk (about 400 kilometres from Moscow) in contravention of the Versailles Treaty. And that it was fully funded by the Weimar Republic. In retrospect it was information he wished he had not heard. He pulled a shred of tobacco from his lower lip and flicked it away with frustration while he attempted to figure out what Albert wanted him to do.
“I knew I shouldn’t’ve left you alone too long,” Gisella said, flopping down on the chair opposite him. “I see you already have an admirer flirting with you. Should we see who?”
Werner had no idea what she was talking about and gave her one of those ‘what the heck are you talking about’ looks alongside an exaggerated extended arm shrug.
She cocked her head slightly to one side; her eyes had a special alluring sparkle to them. “The phones and pneumatic tubes at each table is the Resi’s big lure…To flirt. And, Werner, you’ve obviously caught the eye of someone.” She pointed at the pneumatic tube. “Check your message.”
Feeling somewhat self-conscious and sure that this was what Albert meant, he pulled out the cylinder from the tube and retrieved the item within it. Neatly wrapped and clearly indicating the table it came from, he began to unfurl the paper. Inside was a small bag of white powder and a note which read “A night of heavenly bliss awaits you.” The ending was punctuated with a lipstick kiss.
“Oh!” Gisella said with a look of consternation. She took the bag of powder from him, licked her index finger, and sampled it. Her eyebrows raised in amazement. “This is cocaine! Definitely not a casual first meeting!”
He stared at Gisella long and hard before finally asking, “How would you know its cocaine?” He took back the pouch from her.
Gisella’s face went flush. “Because…”
He held up his hand to wave off her going further. “Stupid question,” he said shaking his head, and stubbing out his cigarette. He sat back in his chair. The music filled the silence between them while they watched the uninhibited dancing over their shoulder. He had learned a lot about Gisella that he had not expected and briefly mused on how to use it to his advantage. He sat forward and pulled his pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket and proffered her one and took one for himself. About to light her cigarette, another lighter beat him to it.
“Good evening, Miss Richter.”
Werner glanced up to find Albert and the raven-haired beauty standing at their table.