XIII – Replacements


Control Tower, Miami Aerodrome, August 8th, 1937, 16.04 hours

“First question, how much are there?”
Beyonce turned to Lady Roundtree of Miami Aerodrome Police.
“We have no clue, Mam. Must be several, the ship has a crew of 18, including two airpolicewomen, and according to german infos there are 186 passengers onboard.
Cant control all this with only one or two.”
“A plan of the ship?”
“Here.”
Amy approached the table and tossed a plan across. Lady Roundtree explained:
“This we got from their consulat here, the superfrauen were quite quick to react. By the way, there is one, ah, Ophelia Skorzeny, a Major of their SET, waiting. Government says, she must be informed about all developments and is allowed as an observer.”
Amy Wilder grunted.
“All we need now is a german bitch snuffling around here. Cant we just ignore her?”
Beyonce shook her head.
“No, let her in, maybe she can be of help.”
Beyonce, Amy and their subcommandresses hovered over the plan of the STOLZ. A few minutes passed.
“Lady Tucker, this is Major Ophelia Skorzeny of German SET.”
Beyonce turned. A real knockout, this one. The black uniform, inclusive black boots and gloves of shiny leather, reminded her of Jane Bonda movies. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, the face of an angel, an angered one.
It clearly was not to her liking having waited for so long and now to be summoned like an underling. Arrogant bitch, no doubt about it.
Beyonce was all business.
“Hello, Mylady. I am Beyonce Tucker. Maybe you can be of assistance. We are searching for a way to get into the ship.”
Skorzeny raised an eyebrow.
“So you have no drill for this?”
“You can bet your ass on it we have a drill,” Amy growled, shoving a sandwich into her mouth.
Skorzeny ignored Wilder and smiled at Beyonce.
“The STOLZ is built like most airships, so the entry points are quite obvious. So you have a drill. Will I be informed about its details?”
Beyonce shot Amy a warning glance and answered:
“Our plan is simple. Talking with them, they might give up. Waiting for darkness. Moving in to the tower, going up, blowing away the door and rushing in.”
“Really? What a well thought through battleplan.”
Beyonce smiled. This sarcastic superfraulein would never get an invitation to dinner from her, to say the least.
“You dont like it?”
“Oh, its marvellous. The Italians tried that in Riad, dont you know? Well, I am trying to remember what happened. Ah, now I recall. Over 200 people dead, the airship blown up... the Reich will not be amused, I assure you. Do you like giving tickets to wrong parking driveresses in, lets say, Litte Rock?”
Beyonce put a hand on Amys arm, as her friend started to move towards the blonde bitch.
“Well, Lady Skorzeny, there IS an alternative.”
“Oh? Would you care to enlighten me?”
Skorzeny produced a pack of cigarettes, but didnt bother to offer the Marlboros to the other ladies. Beyonce doubted it was bad manners, no this was as intentional as everything the bitch had said. She seemed very determined to be as insulting as possible. Stupid, or purpose?
While the blonde lit her smoke, Beyonce and Amy looked briefly at each other.
“I take it this here is a service entrance for the hull?”
Beyonce referred to a hatch on the upperside of the STOLZ hull.
“You are correct, Miss Tucker.”
The Blonde blew smoke and looked bored as hell.
“The Aerodrome is crowded and busy. Despite the hijacking, the flights continue. Our own ship will approach the STOLZ, and our gals will go in with ropes, on the hull, through the hatch... you see?”
Was that respect in Skorzenys face? No, it was gone again. The German busied herself with her cigarette.
“Interesting idea. What if they have a lookout in the star-observer-turret?”
“We have 4 sniperesses out. At present the turret is unoccupied. Otherwise we will take the terrorist there out immediately before we go in.”
“Must be VERY well coordinated. I take it you have trained that often enough?”
“Naturally, Mylady.”
“Wonderful. There might be hope, after all. Cigarette?”
“No, thanks, Mylady.”
“Remains the question what happens in the ship. They will probably have bombs.”
“We have expertresses in the team to deal with those.”
“I thought so. Do you intend to wait till nightfall nonetheless?”
“Yes, I will try to persuade them to give up first.”
“You are a trained psychologistess?”
That took Beyonce by surprise.
“Uh, no, but I know enough about the thing. Several hostage cases in bankrobberies, and...”
“You dont employ any psycho in your team? By the goddess of prudence!”
Beyonce was believing strongly in mother EARTH, and the reference to the new fascist pagan religion with its numerous goddesses of old angered her more than the contempt in Skorzenys words.
“Any more questions, Mylady?”
Skorzeny smiled suddenly broadly.
“No, get on with it. Speak with this bitch. I am sure you will convince her.”
Beyonce starred briefly at the blonde, then she turned.
“Lady Roundtree, give me a line to the STOLZ...”


Control Tower, Miami Aerodrome, August 8th, 1937, 19.26 hours

“In can only repeat our demands, Lady Tucker. The German government has to release the 350 political prisoneras already mentioned. It has to step back from its pagan ways and reopen the temples of the Mothergoddess, it has to...”
“Lady von Boeselager, the german government has categorically refused to negotiate with you and your sisterhood. The US government, in turn, is willing to give all of you a fair trial, if you release the hostages and give up. Come on, please, you cant really think the fascists will give in to anything you demand. I assure you, I understand your motives very well, and so will our judges...”
Ophelia made an impassive face, while this negra was sisternizing with the terrorist bitch. A noblewoman, hardly a surprise. Too bad the Americans wanted to handle this themselves. Probably want to try to capture the terrorists alive, by the goddess of revenge and death. She really wanted to go in herself and kick the hell out of this noble bitch and her underlings. Using your hands and feet to crush someone was so more satisfying than a bullet.
On the other hand, the Boeselager all trussed up would be nice too. Perhaps joined by the negra, both struggling and whimpering...
“Coffee, Lady Major?”
A male steward had approached Ophelia. She nodded and continued to observe the Tucker bimbo.
You didnt manage to catch us in the past. Will you manage this affair here, pretty negra? Possible. Their plan matched exactly SETs own drill for such a mission. And this Wilder gal and the others looked fairly competent. The Führa wouldnt like to have the STOLZ saved by Americans, led by a negra to boot, but better than the ship gone to hell with all people aboard.
She put another cigarette between her lips.
“Okay. I will call the Boeselager again in an hour. Amy, get the girls ready. No use here, we will go in.”
Ophelia smiled wryly and lit her cigarette. Show time.
She approached Tucker and Wilder, reaching into one of her pockets.
“Excuse me, how to you intend to open the hatch?”
“Well, Mylady, we will use explosives.”
“This will alarm the terrorists, and the way between the gas tank compartments will be rather long.”
“You are right, but this cant be helped.”
Skorzeny turned to Wilder and tossed a carved metal plate across.
“You may need this.”
Amys antipathy for the German was clear for all to see.
“Whats that?”
“The key to the service hatch, Miss Wilder.”
Ophelia smiled wryly.


STOLZ VON BRESLAU, Miami Aerodrome, August 8th, 1937, 21.10 hours

Detlef, like the three other male stewards, was busying himself with handing out water, coffee and sandwiches to the passengers, which were all assembled in the salon of the STOLZ. The room was big, but now crowded nonetheless. The passengers were calm and tired, not to mention frightened. Especially Franz, the muscled redhead, with his untypical behavior for a male sent fear in the hearts of ladies, squires and children alike.
The female crew of the ship had joined Beate and Gerlinde in the rest room, like the two bound and gagged. Dropping the helpless ladies into the sea had obviously been only a bad joke by Franz, to Detlefs relief.
Detlef smiled bravely at a small boy, who clutched his sandwich in his small hands without eating. The steward cast a glance at the two female terrorists in the room. They were drinking coffee too, their guns tucked in under their belts. The ladies, a small blonde and a slightly overweight redhead, seemed nervous to Detlef.
What would happen? Detlef couldnt believe the government would give in to the so called sisterhood. But this was american soil. Would the Americans assault the ship? Detlef had seen the bombs been placed by von Boeselager and her group. He knew the fate of the EMILIA GALOTTI last year all too well.
The small blonde refastened her ponytail and called out to him:
“Detlef, please fetch us some more coffee.”
This one was irritably nice to him and the other stewards. A hetero maybe?
He nodded and left the salon. In the corridor, out of sight from the two terrorists, Detlef was suddenly sized by strong arms, a gloved hand closed above his mouth. Dark clad figures with submachineguns emerged out of nowhere around him. A lady whispered in his ear:
“Cool, lad. The cavalry has arrived. You okay?”
Detlef gulped and nodded slowly.
“Okay, boy, do you understand me?”
The lady spoke a terrible accent, but Detlefs english was first class. He nodded again.
“Good. We want to solve this here without bloodshed, if possible. So, we need your help. Are you up to that?”
The lady removed her hand from his mouth.
“Ahh, oh, yes, yes, I think so.”
“Super. Call out to the two over there. You have a problem here. Maybe they spring for the trap.”
Männlein Decker looked into the green eyes behind the mask. This one was tough. WAS he up to that? What if the shooting started?
“How many are there?”
“Eight, Mylady. 5 ladies and three males. The two here, two back with the crew in the restroom, 2 on the command deck, two at the main hatch to the tower.”
“Have taken care of the two aft already.”
“They have bombs installed...”
“We know, working on it lad. Okay, lets do it, okay?”
“We... well, okay, Mylady.”
Detlef was released and entered the doorway.
“Myladies, ahh, I have a problem here, please...”
The two terrorists looked at each other. Would they fall for it?
The redhead snarled:
“What is it, Männlein?”
The blonde smiled to Detlef.
“Lets have a look, Andrea.”
“Well, pissed his pants, I guess. You are fond of this idiot, Karin.”
“And if so? Isnt he cute?”
Oh, yes, they really came over here. Not even drawing their guns.
Karin and Andrea entered the corridor. Detlef was brushed aside. The dark shadows surrounded the two terrorists in an instant. Detlef couldnt see exactly what happened. He heard both women groan and drop to the floor.
The greeneyed leadress of the “cavalry” whispered:
“Tape them up, gags first. Now, lad, whats your name?”
“Uh, Decker, Männlein Detlef Decker.“
„Well, Detlef, inform the other stewards. You four will have to keep the passengers quiet while we move forward.”
“There is a bomb behind the bar.”
“Okay, you will show it to Eve here when we pass through.”
Detlef was beginning to believe that all this could really end well.

STOLZ VON BRESLAU, Miami Aerodrome, August 8th, 1937, 21.22 hours

Amy approached the command deck, weapon ready, the delta girls behind her. Everything according to plan up to now. 6 terrorists taken alive, nicely packaged. Passengers and crew free again, 4 bombs taken care of.
The von Boeselager and her “Franz” were in for a bad surprise.
There was the hatch. Amy listened.
A deep, angry voice:
“Petra, its to no use. I told you before. We must make a stand. Lets shoot the two Luftpolizistas for starters. They think we arent serious. We must show them otherwise.”
“Franz, we definitly cross the red line if we kill someone.”
“Second thought, Grafa, NOW?”
Amy signalled to her gals. Time to end this farce. She was hungry. A pepperoni pizza would be nice now.
They opened the hatch and Amy jumped in first.
“FREEZE!”
Petra von Boeselager sat in the pilots chair, looking desperate and obviously chainsmoking. The big redhaired male stood a few feet to the right. The Boeselager just starred, taken totally by surprise.
But Franz reacted immediately. Slung over his shoulder was a submachinegun, and alarmingly fast he took aim and squeezed the trigger.
Amy was faster. A burst of her smg, and the big male went down in a red cloud.
“NO!”
The von Boeselager screamed in terror.
“Franz! No!”
“Dont move, gal. Or care to join him in hell? Just stay in this seat, okay. Okay?”
The german noblewoman breathed heavily, in shock and disbelief starring at the very dead male.
Amys gals ringed the blonde, took her weapon and started to tape her hands behind her back.
“You will pay for this, you slut!”
The blonde was getting hysterical.
Amy looked to the corpse, sighed and commanded:
“Gag her, I think thats better. And order a pizza from the tower.”
The radio beeped.
“Yes, its Amy Wilder. Everything under control. One terrorist dead, no other casualties.”
Beyonces voice:
“The bombs?”
 “Disabled. We have done it. Beyonce, order me a pizza, please...”
Amy could “hear” Beyonce smile.
“You have earned it, no doubt.”
Amy grimaced and looked again at the dead german male.


Control tower, Miami Aerodrome, August 8th 1937, 21.35 hours

“I must congratulate you to the successful completion of the mission, Lady Tucker.”
“Thank you, Lady Skorzeny.”
“I have to admit, I doubted you will pull it off. And even nearly without bloodshed. I take it the terrorists will be given to the Reich? The STOLZ is german territory in a sense...”
“This is a political question I wont comment on, Lady Skorzeny. If I had my say, the terrorists would be judged here.”
“A pity you abolished the death sentence in 1915.”
“A pity?”
“So you dont think, these scum deserves death?”
“To say the truth, Major, I sympathize with them. I have no real love for your country and especially its fascist regime.”
“Really? Well, that cant be helped. I am an officer of SET, I have no interest in politics. I only attend to my duties. Seems my duty here is over. By the way, Lady Tucker, what am I reading in the press? Aliens abducting your scientists?”
“Well, the press is a bit fantastic about it. But there are disappearences, thats correct.”
“Bad thing this. Maybe the Japs? Or the Commies? This Stalina bitch is mad...”
“No comment, Lady Skorzeny.”
“FBI surely has a clue?”
“Perhaps you want to speak with the crew of the STOLZ now?”
“Ahh, sure, thank you...”
“We will bring you onboard. This way...”
Ophelia smiled inwardly. They suspected the Reich behind the abductions, alright. Too bad she had to leave America now. Someone else would carry on over here. Perhaps there would be another day. Wouldnt it be nice to collect Lady Tucker herself, sometime in the future? Just for the fun of it.


Unter den Linden, Berlin, Germany, September 5th 1937, 11.26 hours

The two beautiful ladies were in civilian clothes, jackets, short skirts, tigh high boots with high heels. Quite a few passersby watched them with barely hidden interest.
They turned to a cafe and sat down, ordering coffee and cake. Both lit cigarettes.
Ophelia Skorzeny blew smoke into the air and smiled wryly.
“So, it was fairly easy the last one and a half years. Even employing cops didnt help them much, we just collected them with the others.”
The dark haired other lady grunted, her face as arrogant as Skorzenys:
“Nonsense, this order. Would be so easy to kill the police gals and dispose of them at a lake.”
“Perhaps. But its the Führas order. No killings. Under no circumstances. I usually welcome that.”
“You like to abduct the bitches, dont you?”
“There is nothing so sweet as their whimpers and their huge helpless eyes above their gags.”
“Phhh. You take a fancy to this mission. I am a soldieress, no kidnapper. This job is beneath us.”
“I take it you worked mainly in Britain and Ireland, Dagmar?” Skorzeny knew full well that Dagmar Kleikamp was lying, she loved to abduct other women. She even used latexwear and latexgags in the packaging of the abductees, which Skorzeny only had done in the case of the traitress Jamison.
“Yeah, easy pickings over there. Never had a problem. Will have no difficulties taking over your mission in America.”
“Dont take me wrong, its getting more dangerous with every new collection.”
Dagmar Kleikamp, like Ophelia Major of SET, took a sip of her coffee.
“The democracies are rotten to the bones. They will never catch us.”
Ophelia thought of the Tucker gal and her deltas. Dagmar might be wrong.
The Kleikamp started on her cake and changed the subject.
“The Japs have shot themselves in the knee with Nanjing. This massacre was very counterproductive.”
“What do you expect of Asians? Cruelty is part of their culture. Important is in the end that theyve captured the city.”
“You are probably right. The democracies will whimper a bit about it, and in two weeks its forgotten. Ah, by the way, what about the pipelines?”
“In USA? Two new ones established. Quite secure. But I advice you to change them after a while.”
“We will see. In Britain we never had to change the pipeline. Using it up to now.”
“One must be cautious. Better to change it, and collect the traiteresses themselves in the end.”
“The goddess of fortune smiles upon the daring ones.”
“If you say so...”
There was a thin line between confidence and overconfidence, Ophelia thought, and Major Dagmar Kleikamp had definitely crossed it.