The Edge of the Knife

By Olin Thompson

Edge of the Knife is a book which deals with spies both in the United States and Germany during WWII and how they go about their tasks. The failures of both and the success of the efforts of two young people who have gone from small Arizona ranches to the towers of power in Washington DC during wartime.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sam Warren
• Release date: Aug 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9780945949367

Book preview

The Edge of the Knife

The fourth volume in the series

Dean and Egan, the Story of Two Families

Written by Olin Thompson

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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Copyright © 2006 by Olin Thompson

This eBook was produced in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

ISBN: 978-0-945949-36-7

Published by:

BOOKWARREN PUBLISHING SERVICES

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San Diego, CA 92103

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Website: http://www.bookwarren.com

Look for these print books and eBooks by author Olin Thompson in the

Dean and Egan Families Saga series:

The Long Ride Dogs of Justice No Hiding Place

Edge of the Knife

Terror and Revenge

DEDICATION

I want to thank my wife for her patience and assistance in reading and editing my work. The most influential person who urged me to test my talents and start writing was my college English professor. My mother said my imagination was too vivid and kept trying to get me to think like an accountant. I just couldn’t do that. I had to write.

My father was an accountant and thought that as a writer I’d never make it. He’s probably right, but then, I love writing more than adding and subtracting. Who knows what a deferred accrual debit is anyhow?

This story is fiction. It couldn't have happened. Or,could it? The names would have to be changed to protect the innocent. Wouldn't they?

PROLOGUE

Sixteen years passed and a family of Deans and Egans, from Arizona in the 19th Century got their start in the law business. Still on the tin badge circuit, since studying the court side was not a desire; in another place in another time perhaps, but now...?

*****

Now, ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to a very important voice in America.This woman has spoken out on many issues, but practically none more urgent than this one, the voice from the podium announced."Now more than ever we need voices like hers. This isn't a world at peace any longer. It's a world at the threshold of war.A war where right and wrong, law and order, are the stake. This is not a world where we can any longer stand by and watch. We have to be prepared.

1939 is a watershed year and the future is at stake." There was one listener, an ordinary looking fellow, who stood in the back right hand corner of the room.His cigarette burned a blue grey smoke which trickled upward from his lips; those lips seemed to be in a perpetual snarl. He wore a tuxedo as every man in the room and except for the wilting white carnation in the lapel he could not be distinguished from the other two hundred men in the audience.

Mrs. Deborah Asher, the voice introduced the distinguished tall, statuesque, dark haired woman in the white suit, dark blue blouse, and white hat with a tiny navy blue feather; the chapeau was tilted at a rakish angle.

The applause began and rose to a thundering ovation. The listeners began to rise, one then two then ten then the rest. The man in the corner clapped, but not generously, almost as if he wanted not to seem out of place.

Thank you, Deborah said over and over to the hand clapping. Let me speak, please, she urged with a shy smile.

Finally Deborah Asher gained control of the audience and began a tale of horror and frustration at the actions of a nation of people who followed a man whose whole being was consumed by the need to eliminate a complete race of people.

The audience sat stunned and awed by the things Mrs. Asher told them. It was not as if she had made these charges up, as she gave an emotional tint to an otherwise harmless Chaplinesque figure.It was truth she sent from her mouth to these ears.They had heard it before, but this time it seemed real. A personal reality they could no longer ignore.

The figure in the corner gritted his teeth and after only a few moments of what he thought were lies, all lies, and vilification of his leader he began to grind his teeth.He smiled at a waiter walking by.Then the man turned and with the utmost control walked to the foyer where he lit another cigarette upon the glowing tip of the former.

Sir? Just fresh air, thank you, the man said, a smile locked on an otherwise unemotional face; he walked to the open door. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly.It was not fresh air he wanted, but to recover mastery of his own outraged being.

An hour passed and he heard the once more thunderous applause, shouts of Hurrah! and Bravo! He felt he would be sick, throw up at the adulation of the whore.

The crowd dispersed and scattered to the safety of their Washington, Silver Springs, Reston, Fairfax, and other secure upper class homes.

He watched them leave and though he lit another cigarette he almost immediately pushed it into the pavement with the sole of his patent leather shoes.

Here she comes, he thought.

Mrs. Asher, he said easily.I'm Joachim Klinger from the embassy, he said, failing to tell which embassy.

She would likely not inquire, he thought.

Ah, yes, she said and held out her hand in what seemed to be a generous motion.

May I take you somewhere? Thank you, but I have a limousine from the committee, she replied.Her whiter than white teeth distracted him.They were straight and even and beautiful.Her Jewish face was clean and clear of blemishes.

If only she weren't a Jewess, he thought, I could learn to admire such a woman as this. But, he concluded, she disgusts me.

Very well, he replied, his European charm dialed up to the highest level he could. Under the circumstances.

She was ushered into the black Packard and it drove off with a light puff of white smoke and the man who called himself Klinger went to his own chauffeured Mercedes-Benz and followed the Packard Phaeton through light Washington D.C. traffic.

Don't lose her, he kept instructing the driver who after the first assurance didn't answer again.

At a quiet street near Farragut Square the Packard slowed and stopped in front of a red brick with white trim attractive two story side-by-side.

There, Klinger whispered.

The deep dark green Packard pulled to the curb a hundred yards away.Two people stood beside the car and seemed to chat. Klinger got out of his own black Mercedes-Benz and walked softly toward the pair.He waited in the shadow, away from a street lamp, and watched as the man bowed and then shook Mrs. Asher's hand; he returned to the car, and left.

Mrs. Asher, Klinger called.

Yes?She turned without any hesitation nor did she appear startled or annoyed.

I enjoyed your speech, but there were a few major inconsistencies, Klinger said as he came closer.

What were they? she asked, and seemed genuinely interested.

Just that the Fuhrer is never wrong, he said and plunged the seven inch knife blade in just the exact spot he wanted. The long thin tapered blade penetrated the light jacket the woman wore and before she could scream or call out an alarm the point of the Solingen steel dagger punctured her heart and the blood of the ages of man spilled onto the pavement in a Washington D.C. street.

Embassy, the man called Klinger calmly said to the driver. While Klinger wiped away the real or imagined spoil from Mrs. Asher he registered his disgust at the woman for having bled on his paten shoes.

He had many names; Klinger was just one of them. Damn Jewess, he muttered.

Chapter 1

But Dad, I don’t want to go to the university, Angus said with some degree of heat.

Listen, son. First, you don’t have any choice. Second, if you don’t then we’re sunk, Will Dean told his son, equally spirited. And your brother has already finished and’ll be off to Cali-forn-ya to teach at the university there.!

Dad, you need me here. You gotta have the extra hands, the boy pled. It was the same plea he’d used over and over again after even the Mexicans had left the ranch to go back to Mexico.

Listen boy, you ain’t hearin’ me. We’ll be fine. It’s just the market is de-pressed now and we’re a bit tight. With his tongue Will pulled the chaw around to the other side of his mouth, settled it into a comfortable spot in his jaw, and continued, But, we’ve put enough money away we can survive for several years. Mr. Roosevelt looks like he’s gonna take care of things, Will said with a mind full of skepticism as well as hope. And, Angus, if you don’t go to the university we’ll be sunk for sure. And your future is at stake. The boy’s father spit a long stream of cold yucky tasting coffee mixed with some of the brown chaw saliva. It all landed easily in the pea gravel in the yard where grass had never grown. And likely wouldn’t ever grow what with Will spitting the toxic waste everywhere. Will set his cup down on the nearby wood table.

Why’s that? Angus asked, hanging onto the finger loop of his own cup, and knowing the answer long before he asked it. He watched his father toe the coffee mixed moisture into the dirt. The pair walked into the house, where Will sat down in the overstuffed divan. Angus’s father didn’t say anything else until he was comfortable. Angus sat in the chesterfield and slumped. He set his cup on the side table.

Boy, we can’t survive in a world of this sort, nor will you be able to, his father said and threw the morning paper at him. Pages came apart and scattered over the room.

Angus shied, but tried to stand – rather, he sat – his ground. We ain’t discussing it any further, his father said. Daaaad, the boy attempted one more time.

You’re goin’ and that’s it, his father insisted. He knew his oldest would agree that an education was the most important thing a man could get. Angus was only slightly less enthusiastic about things around him than a desert lizard might be; also as quick, physically and mentally as one. Tall, handsome, and talented he wasted that talent by sluggish habits. But when thinking came to him he grasped the significance of the ideas as fast as anyone Will had ever known.

Will wished the boy would straighten his room once in a while though. Sloppy mind, he recalled his mother saying. In this case the homily lost its meaning.

10 miles away, at another home, quite similar to the one that Angus and Will were in, there was another scene being played out.

Dad, it’s useless to send me off to Tucson, the girl with the straw colored hair said.

Well, useless isn’t one of the words I would have chosen, Alice Marie, Gran Egan said and waited at her door while she packed the last of the things in the suitcase. The footlocker stood on end at the head of the long hall. Miguel would help him load it on the back of the truck. I don’t want to go to school. I can be a lot more help around here, Alice tried one last time. She tried to list the things she was good at, I can do the books, wash the dishes, take care of the house.!

Listen here Junior, he said to her with a soft but firm tone. You and young Angus are going to university in Tucson and that’s it. You’ll be fine, her father added.

I hate him, she said.

Sure, her father said knowing full well there was more than a little truth to that. Angus was arrogant, smart mouthed, big as a bull, and as strong. Not to mention he was also brilliant. He’d played football for the county high school and they’d won the Little School championship. But, Junior had never seemed interested in Angus – her father thought of her as Junior since she’d been named after his wife Alice, but they’d given her Will Dean’s wife’s middle name – Marie. Carmen Marie was Angus Dean’s mother.

Listen, Angus’s been a pain, I know. But he’s got a scholarship to play football. You got an academic pass. That’s the only way we can afford to send you, her father said.

Didn’t you not want to go to the University of Wyoming when you were my age?!

Nope. And that’s the truth. Will Dean and I could hardly wait to get there. Our fathers took us by buckboard the whole distance. Nearly two hundert mile, her father said, knowing full well it was all lies – or truth stretched like a rubber band to its fullest extension; he hadn’t wanted to go; he sure as hell hadn’t wanted to go with Will Dean. And it was more like three thousand miles in that damned butt busting buckboard.

Daddy, she pled and he smiled knowing she was trying the last of the soft soaps.

You’re going, he said and turned to walk away.

I’ll fail! she shouted after him as he reached the bottom step.

No you won’t! he yelled back, but had a smile he concealed from his daughter.

What’s all the yelling, Gran? mother Alice asked. Nothin’, he said and continued to smile.

Well, I got all the forms straightened out and the papers and things she’ll need are in the packet. You and Will going to just stay overnight?!

Yep, Gran told her. We’ll be back in a day or so, he added.

You sure you don’t want William to go with you? Honey, he said and gave her that You-know-better-thanthat look so he needn’t take the oldest Egan boy. I’ll be fine.!

But, Gran, he’s been talkin’ about it all week, Alice said and returned his look with a Why-can’t-he-go? look.

Gran pursed his lips, but smiled, and sat down in the large chair. We need him to run the ranch, Gran said and hoped that was the last of it.

Her finger in his ear bode ill for him, however.

We don’t have room in the Ford either, Gran said softly, his body limp from the ministrations.

Tighten up a little. He can sit in the back with the other luggage and bundle if it gets cold, Alice whispered into his ear knowing September was nearly the hottest month of the year. Her hot breath did things to him and she knew it. Damn her, he said to himself, but with affection.

I’ll not go at all if you don’t stop that, Gran said and shook the opened newspaper at her.

Hummm, she said and bit his ear, but softly. She walked off yelling for William to get his hat. Gran knew he’d give in. He’d do anything for Alice as he had from the first time he’d met her in 1899, almost forty years ago. Their first son was a success at almost everything he did, but he did them in Wyoming where he now was Deputy Attorney General for the state. Alice Junior was the second born and she was an honor graduate from the local school. Will had been a ten year old brat who had more promise than all the others combined: bright, intelligent, and – even at ten – physically a match for anyone his age in this part of Arizona. Gran shook the papers, shook his head, and returned to reading the headlines. September 10, 1931 the date on the masthead said.

PROHIBITION A FAILURE

He knew that and skipped further down the page.

BANK FAILURES UP

He knew that too since his and Will Dean’s banker had informed them the money was gone and there was about ten cents on the dollar available. When they went to make the deposit from the buyer from Mexico, the bank president had asked them if they were sure they wanted to put the money in his bank. It was in silver coin. They refused to take a chance on paper money.

You know, of course, banks ain’t all that good these days, the man had said, but it was a question at the same time. Put it in safe deposit box. Don’t deposit it. You’ll certainly lose it otherwise.!

Yeah, we know, Gran had said, looked at Will, and they nodded agreement. That’s what we’ll do. You got problems. You seen us through several bad times in the last few years, but we’re skint flat now. We’ll keep it in the safe de-posit box this time. We cain’t afford to get caught short, Gran said seriously and spit in the ‘toon next to the desk.

That’s ‘cause you done us right before, but we gotta survive, Will said. We want our money when we need it, he said.

That’s the only sure way. The Feds are about to close us down, the banker said and the two ranchers watched the sweat bead on the man’s forehead. We ain’t got enough we would even be robbed, he added and wiped his handkerchief over his thinning top hair.

Yeah, Gran said and smiled, recalling how a renouned Percy Bookman had met his end after he’d robbed the Tucson bank. Will wrote a check to pay the current note and filled out a deposit slip to cover the check. He counted out the other money and divided it in half: his totaled enough to survive the coming winter and he said he hoped the other half would get Gran and Alice through.

Gran said it would, but he said it softly as he wasn’t really sure.

We hear over a thousand banks is gonna fold in the next few days. We’re so close we ought to make it one thousand and one, but, the banker shrugged to finish the sentence.

We’ve known you a long time, Cecil, Will said and passed the safe deposit slips to the banker. But you cause us to lose our ranches after all the work and you’ll be the first one we come lookin’ for. You understand? Will said, his face serious and stern.

Yep, Will. But you won’t have to come looking. I’ll do it myself. I might be a banker, but I ain’t a damn’ coward, Cecil said. He sat up ramrod straight in a spirit of defiance.

We know that, Gran replied and spit again. The sound of the plonk and the smell was overpowering to Will.

Let’s ride, Will said and stood.

We’ll be back, Gran advised and shook Cecil’s hand. Will did as well, but the shakes were only out of courtesy, not friendship.

They were about to go to the vault and put all their lives in a box they weren’t sure would be there when they came back to get it.

I hope I’m still here, Cecil said with a frown and a down-cast look spread over his suddenly older face. The sweat still beaded and his eyes seemed to protrude from their sockets. An odor of fear emanated from the man.

Chapter 2

You coward! You damned coward. You’ve done what no man should do. You’ve murdered a man who was sitting at a table eating his dinner. He was alone and, but before the man could finish the sentence the man at the defendant’s table rose and screamed at the judge.

Your Honor! Please! This is the worst this so called Prosecutor has ever lowered himself. He’s not prosecuting, he’s lecturing and posturing. We knew he was seeking election victory, but on the back of my client? The Defense attorney, in his silk suit, silk tie, and Italian hand lasted shoes, seemed near to tears. He spread his hands wide in supplication.

Mr. Butler, the Judge said shaking his head. All you say may be perfectly true, may be all you say it is, but without any foundation you cannot call this man a coward or even a sonofabitch unless you have proof, the Judge concluded.

Butler turned his back to the Jury and smiled at the