Chapter 6

An emotional Angie followed me to the coffee shop on Bismarck Street just across from the bank. She needed to get hold of her emotions before we get back to Schloss Meer Sicht and Roland. I thought getting Angie in control of her money would have been a good thing. I was not prepared for her mother’s letter to be presented to her by the bank clerk. I was under the impression that such a document should have been presented to her by an attorney, yet there it was, in the bank.

The coffee shop looked cozy and the service was friendly. Just a normal street-side coffee shop, yet nicely done on the inside to reflect a rustic quietness.

Angie sat down, placed her hands and elbows on the table and looked directly at me. I saw the moistness in her eyes and felt that I may have overplayed my game this time. But how was I to know about the letter? Yet, she had to get it sooner or later.

“Ash?”

“Yes, Angie.”

“Did you know?”

“Sort of...”

“Why, sort of? How did you know and when did you know? Was it that short message on your cell phone that you got this morning?”

“Yes. But Angie, I just wanted to do something good for you. I did not know about the letter.”

“Ash, I appreciate it. Now that I think of it, Roland has no hold on me anymore. That is good, and I can’t thank you enough. I could not have done it on my own.”

“The letter...” I started to say.

“The letter was a surprise, just like they knew something will happen. Oh Ash, how does one know they are about to die ... and then prepare for it? How does that even happen?”

“I don’t know, Angie. I don’t know.”

“What went through their minds?”

“Don’t think of it now, Angie. Look to the future, find something good to live for, and be the woman your parents wanted you to be. All will be revealed in time,” I said, and Angie just looked at me. What do I say to this girl? How do I console her? “You know what?”

“What?”

“I have a feeling that they are not dead. Blame my gut feeling for it, but something is nagging at the back of my mind. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“How can you say that?”

“Angie, the aircraft ain’t crashed. It was secured. Someone camped there. So where are the bodies?”

“You mean ... You mean ... They could still be alive?”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, Angie. But yes, there are too many unanswered questions. One question stands out to me: Why did they secure the aircraft? You don’t secure an aircraft if it crashed; you do it if the aircraft is still fuelled and you are going to take off again!”

“But Ash, where are they?”

“I’ll ask Roland. I have a feeling, a good feeling, that he knows what happened out there in the desert. Don’t you ask him! Else I must use ice again and carry you up those bloody stairs.”

“Oh, am I that heavy?” Giggle.

“No, just awkward to carry a dead weight up the stairs.”

“You brute! Telling me I’m fat!”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You just did!”

“I did not say you were fat.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“That it was awkward to carry you up those bloody winding stairs! I had to make sure that I did not bump your head or your feet!”

“Oh.” Giggle. “But you did not win this fight.”

“Was this a fight?”

“Yes!”

“Our first fight, and we’re not even married,” I said under my breath.

“You want to marry me?”

“Your ears are too big.”

“First my freckles, now it’s my ears!”

Angelique Rothman, drink your coffee! You know what I meant.”

“Yes, Dad.” Giggle.

“Change of subject, do you know about the safe your mum wrote about?”

“No ... yes. There’s a safe in their bedroom in the house, but not under the painting she wrote about. I did not see one there. We must investigate.”

“Sure, but we don’t have time now,” I said.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“We go with Roland to the aircraft. I will look at the aircraft, and when it’s ready I’ll give you a heads-up. Let Roland think that the aircraft must be light for take-off, but you must sneak aboard just before I take off. Then off we go to Swakop.”

“Sounds like a plan. What then?”

“We’ll hide the aircraft in Swakopmund, go to your house, and see what is there.”

“What about Roland?”

“It will take him two days to get back to Lüderitz, then discover we’re not there. By that time, we could be anywhere. It takes only thirty-seven minutes to Swakopmund. So, we’ll have a day and a half before Roland discovers we’re gone. Disappeared.”

“Wow, if you put it like that. Okay, let’s do it!”

“Good. Now drink your coffee and let me read that letter again. Then let me hide it, or you can hide it somewhere Roland will never think to look.”

“I think I know where ... here, let’s look at it again. What are you looking for?”

“I don’t know, but there’s a code in it. And I don’t mean the code to the safe combination. Read it carefully. There’s something else in it, hidden in the text.” Angie looked at me and gave me the letter across the table. I started to read it again.

“Dear Angelique, my dearest daughter. If you are reading this, then know that I, and most probably your father, am no more. I was hoping and praying that it did not have to come to this. Just know we love you, and always will. We wish you well in where you go and where you end up.”

“Here is what you need to know about our journey to Angola, and why we have to go. It’s got to do with your Uncle Roland and a man called Maximilian Schneider, and the loss of German submarine U-398 in 1945 on the Skeleton Coast. A copy of my journal is in a safe at our Swakopmund house. Inside my journal you’ll find the answers you seek, as well as where the lost treasure, stolen from Hitler and his sidekicks are located.

“Liebling Rose, go to our house in Swakopmund. Find the painting, “The Love Letter,” painted by Francois Boucher. Behind the painting is a hidden safe. The combination to the safe is your favourite Tchaikovsky Overture.”

“Our last will and testament and some valuables are inside the safe. Liebling, the black velvet jewellery box is yours.”

“There’s a locket that will be the key to what everybody seeks for themselves. Your father designed this locket especially for you, and was manufactured by that dear jeweller on your Father’s birthday.”

Don’t trust anyone. Above all, don’t take what you find for yourself. It will bring you unhappiness. Return it to those that were oppressed and unjustly treated. Promise me this: that you will right the wrong of the past. You will know what is right to do.”

“Inside the safe, you will find a copy of my Journal. You will find all the answers you need to know about our trips to Angola and who the real Roland Rothman is. Don’t try to find the original, it’s lost to the desert. Sometime after we placed the copy of my journal in the safe, I threw the real one out of the aircraft. I can’t remember where it was.”

“Liebling you must always remember, don’t ever settle for second best. Use the gifts and skills you’ve been given. Remember: See what the eyes don’t see. Love Before Fun Pleasures. Then you will gain the treasure you seek. Treat your body with respect. Spend your life with someone who loves you as we did, and your Father did me. When you see what we left you, you will understand.”

“Until we meet again. Your loving parents.”

“Gretah and Friederich.”

I re-read the letter twice. There were some words that did not make sense. Why did Gretah suddenly change to capitalizing the word “father?” What did she mean by; “See what the eyes don’t see.”? There’s definitely a code hidden in this text. Also, why did she change the normal “mother and father”, too “father and mother?” And above all, she did she end the letter with ‘until we meet again?’ I am missing something here. Something vital. Will Angie find it?

“Here, read it again. There’s something in it that your mother is telling you, and I think you’ll spot it,” I said and handed the letter back to Angie.

“Where must I look?”

“The second to the last paragraph. Read it and see if you spot something,” I said.

“Okay.”

“Rose...” Angelique whispered. “My nickname from my parents.” Tears ran over her freckled cheeks. I felt sorry for her. Taking a paper napkin from the table, I handed it to her. Angie took the napkin and dried her eyes.

“We’ll have to go to the house. I don’t know what my mom wanted to say or what she is trying to say,” Angie said.

“It’s got to do with your father. But I do think the same as you. Let’s get the aircraft, go to Swakop, and then take it from there,” I said.

“Let’s finish up here and go show our faces at the house. Do you have everything you need?”

“All I can think of. I might get some sunscreen, and a hat,” I said.

“Let’s go.”

I paid for our coffee, and Angie and I got to a shop a little down the road for the sunscreen and hat, then back to the car and to Schloss Meer Sicht.

Roland was orchestrating the loading of the three Unimog vehicles. I just cast an eye to the goings-on. It looked like he was taking everything plus the kitchen sink. There was even a mobile toilet on the one Unimog. Thanks, it looks like I do not need to go dig a hole if I need to go do some business. Besides, how is Angie going to dig a hole? Dooievlei is as flat as a pancake. Nowhere to hide, no trees, only flat dried out clay with three huge dunes to the sides. It seems like Roland was not too mad at Angie. We men have no problem, but Angie does.

Angie went into the house on the pretext that she needed to pack her clothes and other needs. This gave her a good enough reason to stay out of Roland’s way. I had to do some packing too, so I went about it in my room. Kill an hour or so.

I also reviewed some technical aspects of the DC-3TP. This is a much more sophisticated aircraft than just the normal Douglas DC-3 with either the old pre-war Wright R-1820 Cyclone radial or the Pratt & Whitney R-1830 Twin Wasp radial engines. The fuselage was stretched by 40 inches, making it longer than the normal old DC-3, or C-47. The civil designation was DC-3 Dakota. The military version was known as the C-47 Skytrain, but the same aircraft.

It was only when Basler decided to breathe new life into the Douglas creation by lengthening the fuselage and hanging Pratt & Whitney PT6 turboprops on the wings, was the DC-3TP born. A completely new aircraft in handling, performance, and range. Okay, there were others that tried to hang turboprops on the aircraft, like the Dakota Tri-turbo. The old DC-3 with three turboprops, one on each wing and a third turboprop in the nose. But that conversion didn’t catch on.

Douglas did not foresee that the DC-3/C-47 would be around for 80-odd years, but now Basler thought it might be around for another 80-odd years. Well, that is up to debate. At least I did fly a DC-3TP before. Some would say: “We’re in L O V E.” Yes, so am I. Now! Where and how do you hide a DC-3 Turboprop?

All packed. Maps, flight manuals, radio frequency charts, airport charts, communication frequencies, and flight computer. Oh yes, my sunglasses too. Now to kill the rest of the evening, some shut-eye, and then the big desert adventure. I just hope that the old DC-3 out in the desert was fully IFR equipped. It will help a lot in navigating the featureless desert.

At 15:00 Cookie came to call me for afternoon tea. Okay, afternoon coffee, although I thought that Roland would prefer a Windhoek Lager.

Coming out of my room, I met Angie coming down the passage.

“Cookie woke you?” I asked.

“Nope. I heard him call you.”

“Damn! These walls are thin. Remind me not to entertain some pretty girls in there. Can’t have you hearing us,” I said and got a whack on the arm. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“For thinking about entertaining pretty girls in your bedroom!”

“So, you’re not a pretty girl?”

Giggle.

“See! You’re thinking of visiting me there.”

“I have been there, buster. And, no, I was not thinking of THAT kind of entertainment.”

“So, what entertainment, are you accusing me of?”

“Ash!”

“Yes, Angie?”

“Stop it!” Giggle, and the green eyes shone with a naughty glint.

By this time we were getting to the bottom of the stairs.

“Roland will most probably take the ‘High Tea’ on the back patio. Let’s go there,” Angie said.

“High Tea, for a German. Curious,” I said.

“Mister Windsor! We are civilized too, you know,” Angie said. “Now, behave yourself.”

“Yes, Mistress.” And another whack on my arm. “Ouch! I think we better switch places. This arm is getting sore.”

Giggle.

Roland saw us approaching and stood up from the patio chair he was sitting on. Do I detect a small amount of attitude change towards Angie, or not?

“Good of you to join us, Angie. Cookie has brought you some Rooibos tea,” Roland said.

“Thank you, Roland, that would be nice, but in this heat I think iced tea would have been better,” Angie said.

We all sat down. Angie took a place across the patio table from me and Roland. Still playing her role as the ice princess.

“Roland, after we come back from the desert, can I go to my place in Swakopmund?” Angie asked and I nearly had a heart attack.

“And what would you want to go do there?” Roland asked.

“I just want to see the place again and go get some stuff out of my room,” Angie said innocently. “Can I pour you some tea, Roland? Mister Windsor?”

“Yes, Miss Angelique, thank you,” I said, getting my composure back.

“Thank you, Angie. Black, no sugar please,” Roland said.

“Would you care for some Rooibos, Mister Windsor?” Angie asked me, looking at me with an expressionless face, but her eyes were smiling. Angie was turned to me, so Roland did not catch it.

“Yes, Miss Angelique. I’m used to Rooibos. You know that it comes from the Namaqualand region on the west coast of South Africa. That is the real Rooibos, harvested from the natural growth in the fields out there,” I said, just to steer the conversation in another direction.

“They are trying to get the name ‘Rooibos’ to be registered as a brand name, thereby placing it in the same league as Port wine and Champagne. No-one else may use the name then,” Angie said.

“Let’s discuss something more constructive,” Roland said.

“Such as?” I asked.

“Ash, you had some concerns about the aircraft. Now, let me put your mind at ease. After I found the aircraft on the satellite photo, I did send someone to have a look at it.”

“What!” Angie exclaimed.

“Wait till I’m finished, Angelique,” Roland directed, and then continued. “The aircraft is a-okay. No oil leaks, no hydraulic leaks. The seals and engine components seem to be good. The tyres have gone flat, but that is no problem. We will take the spares and replace them. All the control surfaces are in order, you’ll just have to check it to your satisfaction.”

“What about my mother and father?” Angie demanded, and I could see that she was in a state of shock on hearing this news.

“They were not there. No one was there. No bodies, nothing, zilch,” Roland said and looked a little concerned.

“Not there? But ... how?” Angie stammered. Tears lying shallow in her eyes.

When did you send the people there?” I asked Roland.

“A week back. The aircraft is flyable. We just need to replace the tyres.”

“That is not like changing a flat on your Toyota,” I said.

“I know. That’s why I got everything you’ll need. Even a ground power unit.”

“You need that aircraft out of there. Why Roland?”

“Because it’s a waste to let a good plane rot in the desert,” Roland said and looked like a deer caught in car headlights. Something was still amiss here.