He Who Walks in Shadow by Brett J. Talley Page B

follow her eyes to know where she was looking. “I see our friend is waiting on us.”
    “He hasn’t left. I suppose we shouldn’t keep him in suspense.”
    “Certainly not. Lieutenant!” she called, sounding positively ecstatic to see him. “The party is waiting.”
    “Of course,” he said, gesturing to the double doors.
    We followed him into the grand ballroom. It was a stunningly beautiful chamber. Six chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their sparkling electric lights adding to the glow of a full moon that beamed down from the newly broken clouds through the glass dome that was the hall’s ceiling. The light glittered off the gilded walls, imbuing the assembled revelers with a golden glow.
    Nor was it an inconsequential gathering. It seemed as though all of Berlin society was present, and all were dressed to the nines. I felt a rare moment of self-doubt, embarrassed at my ill-fitting suit. But Rachel was radiant. She belonged in this place.
    As I glanced around the ballroom, I noticed a man in expensive attire, a beautiful young woman in a gossamer dress hanging from his arm. He was surrounded by party-goers, many of them in military uniforms. But what made me notice him was the fact that he was looking intently at us. He mumbled something to the young lady—who also turned and glanced in our direction, with no shortage of disdain, I thought—and then started walking towards us. Before he’d gone five feet his face erupted in a brilliant smile.
    “Dr. Henry Armitage,” he cried, throwing his arms wide, “and you, madam, must be Mrs. Rachel Jones.” He bent and kissed Rachel’s hand before turning to me and grasping mine. “We’ve been expecting you.”
    The lieutenant, who had not left our side, saluted the man before turning to us. “May I introduce to you Dr. Erich Zann, of the University of Berlin.”
    “Charmed,” Rachel said, “though I must say I’m surprised to find a welcoming party for Dr. Armitage and me. We didn’t exactly come announced.”
    “Well, the party was to happen regardless. But surely you must know, Frau Jones, that we in Germany are always honored by the presence of such a fine academic as Dr. Armitage. And your father,” he said, pausing almost imperceptibly—but not quite—at the mention of Carter, “is known and respected around the world. I was most distressed to hear of his passing. I saw him, only weeks before he died.”
    “Yes,” Rachel said, “I’m quite aware. Though we continue to hold out hope that he is merely missing. Perhaps detained somewhere.”
    Zann’s smile, which had never really faded, seemed to grow even wider. “Perhaps,” he said simply.
    “And I must commend you, Doctor. It must be difficult to monitor the thousands of people who venture in and out of Germany every day, just so you can greet every scholar that comes across your borders.”
    “Well, Dr. Armitage is not just any academic. His reputation precedes him.”
    “As does yours, Dr. Zann,” I said. ”I read your work on Hindu mythology. Most intriguing, though I found your hypothesis linking the religion of ancient India to early German folklore somewhat… tenuous.”
    Zann laughed, perhaps too enthusiastically. “Ah yes, that old thing. I may have been too exotic in some of my conclusions. But I find that youth often suffers from over-exuberance. You can leave us now, lieutenant.” The young man clicked his heels and bowed again before withdrawing.
    “And,” I continued, “I understand that you’ve recently been offered the position of Reich Minister of Cultural History. Quite an honor. They must think rather highly of you in the Reich Chancellery.
    “Yes, well,” Zann said, his smile fading, “we reward loyalty in Germany. Even more, we reward results.”
    “Quite.”
    If Zann had dropped his guard, it didn’t last for long. He grinned at me again, slapping me on the shoulder, “Come, let us have a drink.”
    I glanced around for Rachel, but she was no longer