Chapter One Thousand Six Hundred Ninety-Five
4th October 1965
Tempelhof, Berlin
“It was Zella having her heart set on getting the motorcycle that her father’s team had designed that convinced the company to move them into production” Kiki said with considerable amusement, “Instant market research.”
“That is well and good” Berg said, she had known that Kiki preferred to talk about others for ages. “But how are you doing, personally Kristina?”
Kiki would have to say not good if she was being honest. While the medical exams that all students returning to Jena from holiday were encouraged to have had revealed nothing untoward, Kiki had still been struggling physically because of her emotional state. Stressed and exhausted all the time. She had been encouraged to speak with someone from the Psychiatric Department at the University Hospital. They had taken it at face value when she had told them that she was already seeing Doctor Holz, but that was hardly telling the complete story.
She had been fine almost the entire time she had been in the Hohenzollern Provence. Then she had messed everything up by getting drunk and making a complete fool of herself. Ever since then she had dreaded getting a phone call from Nancy Jensen saying that a photograph of her doing something stupid had emerged and it was about to get plastered across the front pages of the tabloids. Everyone in her family had been warned about how hungry those rags were for a royal scandal in Germany.
“I’ve been well” Kiki replied after a second’s hesitation.
“I can tell when you are fibbing” Berg said, “Now try that again, the truth this time.”
Kiki frowned; Berg had never allowed her hide behind pleasantries. Either something about her demeanor must have given away what she was going through, or else Berg had enquired had she was doing from one of her sources in Jena. Both those possibilities were equally likely. Berg would keep after her until Kiki told her what had happened.
“I made a mistake in Hechingen” Kiki said, “There was a festival and people kept giving me drinks and I think I made a complete fool of myself.”
“I see” Berg said, “Exactly how bad are we talking here?”
“The men in my security detail told me that I spent the night drunkenly singing and dancing in the market square.”
“Oh” Berg replied, staring at Kiki. Who knew what she was thinking, but wasn’t venturing an opinion for once?
“I get that this would be no big deal for almost anyone else and I am blowing this completely out of proportion” Kiki said, “That I lack perspective, but I’m not like most people, I cannot afford to be.”
“Then don’t make it a habit” Berg said, “It sounds like you had security on hand and were in a relatively safe environment, even if it was in public. This shouldn’t be causing you this much distress.”
“There might be photographs though” Kiki replied.
“Is that really what this is about?” Berg asked, “Losing control of yourself, which I can understand would be scary. Or is it that you finally coming to terms with something else?”
Kiki didn’t have an answer for that.
Rural Brandenburg
Time and speed were two things that Zella knew would help clear her mind. She had spent the entire morning editing video and she had stopped midafternoon when she had realized that she would rather shove a pencil through her eye than look at another second of tape. Getting on her motorcycle she had originally intended to go home, but without any thought on her part she had taken a detour or three and next thing Zella knew she was passing out of the suburbs and leaving Berlin heading north on A11.
The traffic was light, and the road was straight enough that Zella could lean on the throttle in relative safety. She was going around a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, the top speed of her R27. The new motorcycle that she had seen in her father’s garage could best that easily. Apparently, it was one of the prototypes for a new series that didn’t even have a name yet. She had begged her father for a chance to take it on the test track, but he had said no. If Zella wanted one, she could wait until next year when they went into production, if they did, and buy like everyone else. That had been a small disappointment compared to the greater disappointments that had occurred over the prior weeks leading up to that.
Seeing brake lights ahead, Zella let the speed drop off and coasted as the traffic was jammed up ahead due to construction. She took her time because one could never tell what some idiot commuter in their car might do when they saw her coming up behind them. The workers stared as she passed, mercifully she didn’t hear any of the lewd comments that she had come to expect from men lately.
As Zella neared the end of the construction zone, she was startled as another rider on a British motorcycle flew past her, the sound of a parallel twin filling the air. He had not slowed, instead opting to dart between the cars which was asking to get killed. Suicidal recklessness, she thought to herself as she accelerated with traffic. Minutes later the road crossed a bridge and into the Schorfheide Forest, Zella realized that she had never visited the vast nature preserve before.
Turning off the main road, Zella rode into a village. Parked in front of the market was the British motorcycle, the word Triumph spelled out in gleaming chrome letters on the red & white painted gas tank. The rider was leaning on it and was drinking a bottle of pop, with his helmet off Zella realized that she knew him and he was one of the last people she might have expected.