"I can manage these, Herr Major Freiherr," G?nther said.
"Your offer is tempting, G?nther, but unfortunately I'm not supposed to let them out of my sight."
He grabbed two of the pouches and started dragging them to the gate in the fence. When he was through it, he saw Dieter and Karl Nabler walking around under the Condor, doing the preflight.
He walked toward them, looking over his shoulder to see that G?nther was following him, staggering under the weight of the third pouch and the steel box.
"Christ," Dieter said, "that's all I need. What the hell is in that steel box, Pe-ter?"
"They don't confide in me."
"What do you figure all that crap weighs?"
"I know precisely what it weighs. A hundred forty point two kilos," Peter said. "Hello, Nabler."
"Herr Major," Nabler replied.
"That's going to put me, with fuel aboard, about three hundred kilos over max gross," Dieter said.
"You should have thought about your intended cargo before you loaded your fuel," Peter said. "We of the Luftwaffe call that 'flight planning.'"
"Thank you so much for the advice," Dieter said sarcastically. "Kiss my ass, Peter."
"Standartenf?hrer Goltz wants a word with you, Nabler," Peter said. "He's in the... G?nther, would you take First Officer Nabler to Standartenf?hrer Goltz?"
"Jawohl, Herr Major Freiherr!"
"Let's get these pouches into the bird," Peter said as Nabler started to fol-low G?nther.
"We of Lufthansa have something called 'preflight inspection,'" Dieter said. "Won't your goddamned pouches wait?"
Clete shook his head, "no."
Dieter picked up the steel box and pouch G?nther had set on the ground and announced, "I can pick this crap up, but I damned sure won't be able to climb the ladder with it."
He put everything down, picked up the third pouch, and started up the lad-der to the passenger compartment. Peter looked at the ladder and picked up only one of the two pouches, then climbed the ladder.
Dieter stopped just inside the door and raised his voice.
"Willi?"
Peter looked down the cabin to the cockpit, where a man was sitting at the flight engineer's position.
"Kapitan?" the man asked.
"There's a box and a pouch under the wing. Would you get them for me, please?"
"Jawohl, Herr Kapitan!"
"Put them in the aft storage," Dieter said, then turned to Peter and softly said, "Willi's very obliging. He doesn't want to be sent back to the Luftwaffe. Luftwaffe Condor flight engineers spend a lot of time in Russia."
"Are there many Condors left?"
"Not many. Our beloved F?hrer has four for his personal use. I suppose, all over, there's another four or five. Maybe six. But not many. I wonder how long they'll be able keep up this charade. You know how many passengers are on the manifest? Five."
"If they cancel these flights, what will you do?"
"Spend a lot of time in Russia, I suppose."