Page 29 of Flight of Dreams

“I’ve spoken nothing but the truth, Frau Adelt.”

“Forgive me. You’re a good actor, then.”

He shrugs. “And you?”

“I’m a terrible actor.”

“I’d imagine you’re a damn good liar, though.”

“I prefer the truth. I’m a journalist. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he says matter-of-factly. “I did.”

“You were there that day in Frankfurt.”

He nods.

“Why?”

“I work in the building.”

“No one works in that building. Not unless they have a death wish.”

“Cheap rent.”

“You don’t work for the Ministry of Propaganda?”

He snorts. “No.”

“But you were in the hallway when it happened.”

“You made quite a ruckus, Frau Adelt. It was hard to ignore.”

“So curiosity brought you up those stairs?”

“It did rather sound as though you were being slaughtered.”

“No. Not me. Just my career.”

“It’s one and the same where I come from,” the American says.

This is why Gertrud pursued a career in journalism. She imagines it to be why people charge into battle or go on safari. There is nothing so addictive as the hunt. Her problem is that she likes it a little too much. Finds it too compelling. She swings her foot beneath the table, and her hands begin to tremble in anticipation, so she slowly raises the Chesterfield to her lips and pulls a mouthful of smoke into her lungs. Gertrud lets the cigarette sit there, burning, until her extremities settle.

“Just who the hell are you?” she asks.

DAY TWO

TUESDAY, MAY 4, 1937—5:00 A.M., ATLANTIC STANDARD TIME

NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN

2 DAYS, 8 HOURS, AND 25 MINUTES UNTIL THE EXPLOSION

Out of the softening sunset came the airship; and the manner of its moving was beautiful. Few inanimate objects attain beauty in the pursuance of their courses, and yet, to me, at least, the flight of this ship was far lovelier than the swooping of a bird or the jumping of a horse. For it seemed to carry with it a calm dignity and consciousness of destiny which ranked it among the wonders of time itself.

—From The Zeppelin Reader, “Even the Birds: U.S.S. Akron,” Anonymous

THE STEWARDESS