As the orchestra played the final chords of a majestic waltz, Major Klaus

Heinz von dem Eberbach disengaged from his elegant partner and formally

bowed to her, signaling the end of their dance. He murmured a polite thank

you and escorted the woman off the dance floor, then he excused himself

and strode briskly for the terrace doors. He snagged a flute of champagne

from the tray of a liveried footman as he passed by and tossed the drink

down as he walked, placing the now empty glass on a table beside the door

as he exited.

 

He moved into the deep shadows in a corner of the terrace and sat down

abruptly on the stone parapet, feeling the cool stone on the backs of

his legs. Too much champagne, he thought as he regained his balance.

And it was too damned hot in that ballroom. He reached for his cigarettes

and lit one, taking a deep and satisfying drag. The privacy and the cool

midnight air began to work their magic on the Major, and he relaxed

infinitesimally.

 

One of the waiters from the ballroom came outside with a full tray of

champagne flutes, which he set down on a small table. Glancing around and

seeing no one watching, the young man dashed down the terrace steps and

into the waiting arms of a beautifully gowned young woman. The two quickly moved out of sight.

 

Klaus squinted at the tray and vaguely counted twelve crystal flutes filled

with sparkling champagne. Realizing he was a little snockered, Klaus grinned around the cigarette he held between his teeth and eased off the parapet.  He gathered his wits and took a careful look around, but the night had grown late and very few guests remained at the ball. The bride and groom had left for their honeymoon over an hour ago, and the crowd had begun to thin after that. Since Klaus was staying at this house for the weekend, he could escape no further than he already had. That didn't mean he had to go back inside right now.

 

Klaus walked slowly to the terrace doors and looked inside. He saw about

twenty couples still dancing to the music. One of the men on the dance

floor was General Ian McCallum Davidson. Klaus sighed. He wondered again whom he owed for the indescribable torment this weekend had been for him. Whoever it was would pay dearly once this mission was over.

 

Technically, the mission did not begin for another two days. But the General

had demanded that Major Eberbach join him in America a few days early so that he could brief him at leisure about their coming mission in Geneva.

The detour to the state of Georgia had been necessary because the General

was to escort his niece, his deceased brother's daughter, down the aisle

at her wedding. Security was being handled by American agents assigned to

NATO, so the Major had been at a loss as to his position here. The General

had soon informed him.

 

In the limousine on the trip from the airport to the country estate of his

sister-in-law, the General had grinned at him and said, "Damned nuisance,

of course. But family is family, eh, Major? I'm sure you know a great deal

about family obligations.

 

"You'll be acting as my 'aide de camp.' Quite frankly, Major Eberbach, I

needed someone besides the security detail to help me out with this one. I

required someone with excellent social skills, preferably someone good-

looking and single. In other words, someone to take the heat off me with

the women-folk. Dance with 'em and all that. Without stirring up any nasty

scandal. And since you were my choice for the Geneva trip, it only made

sense that you were the man for the job." 

 

The General had shot Klaus a wry grin. "I sure hope you've got a sense of

humor; you're gonna need it. Smoke 'em if you've got 'em, Major. And pour

me some of that scotch."

 

Klaus had poured some scotch for the General and watched as the man sat

back into the decadently comfortable leather seat of the limousine.

 

"Yessir, family can be a real bitch. In this case, the bitch is my niece

Angeline. Love her dearly, you understand, but she can be a real pain in

the ass. Wouldn't settle for anyone to give her away but me. Well, only

right I should walk the girl down the aisle at this wedding of hers. Her

father was my only brother, and he was a good deal younger than me. Harry

died when Angie was only 6 or so. Her mother raised her -- which explains

just about everything, I guess. You'll understand when you meet her --

Donna is a piece of work.

 

"Angeline is spoiled rotten and self-centered, with a penchant for drama

thrown in for good measure. She's got red hair and lots of it, and she

proves that what they say about redheads really is true. But, by God,

she's a beauty! Almost makes you overlook the rest of it." He barked a

laugh. "Almost. Well, tell me, Major. Are you up for a couple of days of

partying before we get down to business?"

 

//Scheisse!// Klaus thought. //Can't we just go straight to the espionage?

This sounds much too... dangerous.// Aloud he said, "Whatever you require,

sir. Is there any further information I need to have?"

 

"Let's just say that any KGB out there better not get in Donna or Angeline's

way this weekend."

 

//Yes,// Klaus decided as he watched the dancers, //someone will pay for

sending me to this hell! But at least I get a day to sleep off the champagne

and plot my revenge before my actual mission gets under way. Must manage to stay out of that woman's sight for another 24 hours. But for now... yes, I

think there is really only one thing to be done.//

 

The Major turned and lifted the tray of champagne flutes to his shoulder.

Concentrating on maintaining his balance, he descended the steps into the

garden and made his way as swiftly as possible across the broad lawn and

down toward the lake. He had spotted the gazebo yesterday while hiding in

the oak grove, and it looked like a promising place to spend a quiet moment.

 

The gazebo was dark and unoccupied, fortunately. Klaus stepped up into the structure and was surprised to find it was larger than he had at first

supposed. It was shaded from view from the house by a large stand of trees, but it faced the private lake and had a lovely view of the moonlit water. Klaus set the tray of champagne flutes on one of the seats that were built into the sides of the gazebo. He was pleased to notice that he had not

spilled a drop during his trek across the lawn.

 

"That deserves a toast. To me!" he said aloud as he raised one of the flutes

and sipped.

 

By now his eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness within the gazebo, and

what he had supposed to be the central column now took on a different shape. It was a statue.

 

Klaus squinted at it and moved closer. It seemed to be a sprite of some

kind, or perhaps a mermaid, carved from smooth white marble. The beautiful face was almost rapturous as it gazed across the lake, and the gentle waves of long curling hair drifted about its head and body as if it were under water. One arm was folded across the figure's breast, the other was

stretched gracefully out and up as if it were reaching for a prize just

out of its grasp.

 

Klaus sucked in a deep breath and sat heavily on the bench directly in front

of the statue, just managing not to spill his champagne.

 

"I might have known. Eroica. You always show up when I most particularly

wish that you would not," he enunciated carefully. Klaus tossed back the

remaining champagne in his glass. "Well, go on! Say it! I look nice in a...

skirt."

 

Klaus waited for a response from the statue. Hearing none, but knowing that a comment must have been made, he responded.

 

"It's a kilt, idiot, not a skirt. Perfectly acceptable... The General made

me wear it. One of the ushers in this abominable wedding sensibly got sick

and I had to fill in. Because it was my SIZE! Fucking hell. I could almost

stand the skirt, but this lace thing around my throat is driving me crazy."

Klaus tugged at the fine lace of the jabot spilling down the front of his

bottle green jacket.

 

Angeline Davidson had wanted a wedding that would honor her family heritage and had decided on kilts in the Davidson plaid of light blue and bottle green for the gentlemen in her wedding party. She had chosen formal jackets in the Kenmore style, so the jacket Klaus wore was single breasted with close-fitting sleeves and a high collar. Fitting over the hips of the kilt

and belted at the waist with a wide leather belt, the green jacket was

accentuated by a long, flowing lace jabot at the high collar. Klaus hated it

only a little less than the white stockings and formal brogues.

 

He set down his now-empty glass and reached into his sporran for his

cigarettes. "Why don't they just have pockets like everybody else?"

 

Klaus took a deep and satisfying drag and leaned back against the wall,

legs sprawling. Squinting at the statue, he said, "Don't get excited,

pervert. I am quite decently clothed underneath... Yes, of course I am,

you irritating gnat. I knew what this thing would do if I should have to

dance in it -- which I did! The pleats in the back make the damned thing

fly up, especially in the waltz. I tested it in my room. I knew that...

that WOMAN would be watching to see my... Well. I made damned certain that, if anything, she would see my entirely modest black gym shorts. And if she has x-ray vision, which I DO NOT DOUBT, she would see my briefs under that. I said 'decently clothed'. "

 

He puffed contentedly on his cigarette for a few minutes, then reached for

another glass of champagne. "What? Yes, I know. I looked at the situation

from all possible angles and reasoned that the only logical solution was to

get drunk. Plastered, wasted, whatever. So I am pursuing a set goal. You

know better than to try to prevent me from attaining a set goal, so just

shut the hell up."

 

For a few minutes, silence reigned and Klaus stared vaguely across the still

lake as he smoked and sipped. Finally, he turned back to the statue.

 

"You missed the ceremony. Too bad -- you would have enjoyed it. It was an excellent example of excess and tastelessness... What's the American word? Tacky? Yes, tacky. Enormously expensive, I have no doubt. But... oh God. You and Hildy together could not have come up with something so repulsively... off, even in one of your tandem flights of fancy."

 

He paused for a moment, looking out over the lake, before he continued grudgingly. "Well, all right, Hildy might have planned something like this before you took her in hand last year. Her taste has, marginally, improved. I don't know of any particular boyfriend right now... But by the time Hildy's wedding arrives, I think I might just be able to tolerate any ceremony she might have. And, since I will be giving the bride away...

 

"I trust you will be able to restrain her from draping the church in plaid.

Looked like a Scottish circus tent. Probably a hundred bolts of fabric

'artistically' hung all the way up to the rose window, down the walls, down

the aisles... Between that and the floral garlands on every available surface,

wall, and person... oh, let's not forget the DANCERS leaping down the aisles and throwing rose petals before the ceremony like... those decadent ancient Romans. In a church, no less. And the music! Christ. Nothing so ordinary as organ music. No. Bagpipes."

 

Klaus tossed back the rest of the champagne in his glass and reached for

another. "Bagpipes -- a very effective offensive weapon in the Scotch

arsenal. Scare the crap out of anyone. Excellent marching music, but they

should not be played indoors. My aching teeth." He threw the remains of his

cigarette on the floor and crushed it underfoot.

 

"Oh, yes... then there were the guitars and all those singers. Seven, I

believe. No, no, not at the same time. Seven different people singing at

different times. I thought the song the mother of the bride sang was a

little over the top, but that was before the BRIDE sang. From the aisle

with a microphone under the veil. Scheisse! You will NOT allow Hildy any

such license, do you hear me, Dorian?" Glaring at the statue, Klaus slugged

the champagne back and lined the glass neatly with the other two empties.

He started on a fresh glass and lit another cigarette.

 

"We will have Bach, Handel. Perhaps Schubert. No Mozart and absolutely no Mendelssohn." He took a deep drag on the cigarette then waved it dismissively as he continued. "I will grant that Wagner might be inappropriate at such an event, but surely Beethoven cannot be out of place."

 

Klaus finished his cigarette in silence and set down a fourth empty glass.

A light breeze blew the jabot into his face, and he reacted by ripping the

lace off his neck. He stuffed the ruined neckcloth into the sporran, then

opened a few buttons on the jacket revealing his white undershirt. As he

began his fifth glass of bubbly, Klaus began to snicker.

 

"Did you see that dress? No, no... not the bride's dress, the other one.

The one THAT WOMAN wore. Mother of the bride... Donna... the one with the pinching fingers and x-ray vision. Nobody else needed x-ray vision with that gauzy thing. We could all see right through it. God, how embarrassing -- for us, at least. She was looking quite pleased with herself. I wonder what you would have said to her... one of your more scathing remarks, I think. Though it probably would have glanced right off her. She doesn't have the wit to understand you.

 

"What a horror to dance with!" He gulped the champagne. "She was practically naked and was slinking up against my... I am going to KILL whoever agreed to send me here!"

 

He rose and began striding back and forth, inadvertently sloshing champagne and swinging his pleats. "If I didn't know that the General has an exemplary service record and an impeccable reputation, if I didn't know that the Geneva mission he chose me for will be nasty and difficult, if I didn't

know that you would never have stood by to see me PAWED by that... I would have suspected that the two of you had planned all this just to humiliate me!"

 

He stopped suddenly, as if he had just heard his own words. He snorted and finished the fifth glass. Turning to face the statue again, he looked

seriously into the perfect face. He sighed and began to pace again.

 

"The General told me his niece was a red haired shrew, and he was right. I

feel a bit of sympathy for her  -- no father and that WOMAN as a mother.

But... Christ, Dorian! She asked me if I spoke English! And then she

screeched at me for 'looking at her like that.' Said she was too nervous

to be polite." He strode back to his cigarettes and lit another.

 

"Too nervous to be polite -- when even a *schwachtel* like you can remain

calm and polite while on the most dangerous of missions. Well, mostly...

Often enough." Klaus snorted again and began to laugh.

 

"I should have told her to her face that I know a homosexual thief who

could have chosen a more flattering wedding gown. Or looked better in hers

than she did! You would have done the thing with much more style -- I don't

think you would have paraded down the aisle in a fucking CROWN, whatever silliness you may have chosen to wear UNDER the dress. Not if it were your own... you know, your own wedding." Klaus collapsed onto the seat and continued to snicker.

 

"Oh, well. The idiot has to live with her new name... Mrs. Trevor Woolwine.

Angeline Woolwine! God, when I heard that, I could hear you laughing in my head."

 

Klaus grinned at the statue and finished his cigarette. Once again he rose,

walked to the steps of the gazebo and stared out across the lake. The moon

had set, and the night was silent. Klaus turned and returned to the seat.

He put the mostly empty pack of cigarettes back in his sporran and retrieved a sixth glass of champagne.

 

"I must leave you now. I still have to make my way to my room without being seen. I think I'll test that lattice tonight. Yes, the one with the climbing

ivy. Goes right up to my room's balcony, and I won't even have to go through the house. I'll leave these last six glasses for you; you have some catching up to do."

 

The Major drained the glass and put it at the end of the line of empties. He

began to leave, but stopped half way down the steps, turned, and walked back to face the statue of the water sprite. He gazed carefully at the smooth

surface of the face, then gently touched the waving hair and the cool lips

with his fingertips.

 

Leaning forward to where the ear would be, he whispered, "I'm glad you were here."

 

Then he turned and strode purposefully, if a little unsteadily, toward the

house.

 

*****************

The End

 

 

NOTES:

(Yeah, I sang in this wedding.)

Many, many thanks to Filigree for beta!