'Das Haus' the House and the Son of the Rabbi. Sean Ryan Stuart
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know what you are thinking, but don’t worry, I guarantee that we will have this home in a good condition by the time Ingrid comes here. Many skilled workers owe me favors, and I will pull a few strings.” Stated Dieter, in off-handed sort of way.
“OK, I will take your word for it.” Replied Cameron, as both men walked out of the house. Cameron was still haunted by the face of the small boy in the window, he stopped Dieter in the middle of the street and asked him.
“Dieter, who was that small boy, I saw in the window when we first drove up to the house?” Asked a curious Cameron.
“I think your imagination got the best of you my friend. And don’t listen to any of those old wives tales about ghosts and evil spirits.” Replied Dieter, as he walked over to his car, and got in. Cameron decided to drop the subject, maybe the sunlight played tricks or he was just imagining.
Both men had inspected Das Haus and left after an hour of thorough investigation. Dieter was convinced that he could restore this ancient home into a beautiful and cozy residence for his daughter. As they drove back to his house, Dieter told Cameron about his remodeling plans for Das Haus. Cameron on the other hand was not as sure that this was such a good idea, but was willing to give Dieter the opportunity to prove him wrong. After all Dieter had restored hundreds of old buildings in worst condition than Das Haus.
Cameron’s mind now shifted to his current work assignment and hoped it would not be challenging as the restoration of Das Haus.
For the rest of the day, his thoughts were solely on his assignment and his first day at work. The excitement he felt was comparable to the first day of school. That sour queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. No matter how hard he tried, that feeling would not go away. He hoped that his new colleagues were forthcoming and not to upset that an American would be their new boss.
“Arbeit Macht Frei” Work Will Set You Free
(Quotation often seen at the entrance to concentration camps)
Cameron woke early, unable to sleep. The excitement and strangeness of the previous day had left him somewhat uneasy. Yet it stimulated him to the possibility of purchasing this new home, Das Haus. He only hoped that Ingrid would be as excited as he was. After all he thought to himself, women are more sensitive to these types of things and may not see the mystery of it all.
He glanced at his watch and noticed it was only five forty-five a.m. Cameron was sure that his office staff would not be at work this early in the morning. Germans were very punctual individuals, but not that punctual. He took his time while showering and dressing, and eventually wandered down to the kitchen by six-thirty. Both Dieter and Kate were already up and drinking coffee, their favorite pastime it seemed. He sat down at the table and joined them for breakfast, and ate in silence. Eventually Cameron broke the silence by asking Dieter for directions to his office in Aachen.
“No problem Cameron, I know exactly where it is. Just take the Europaplatz exit and follow it down to the intersection of Bismarckplatz. If you look to the right, you will see a four story modern yellow building. Your office is actually on the third floor and it faces the main square.” Answered Dieter in a matter fact tone.
“Thank you, Dieter. I am sure I will be able to find it without problems. I think I will be leaving shortly.” Replied Cameron as he got up and walked out to his car.
The trip to Aachen took around forty minutes. Cameron was once again flabbergasted at the speed of the average German commuter, somewhere around one hundred and twenty miles an hour. Cameron knew he would have to practice high speed driving techniques again, because the Germans showed no mercy for unsuspecting Americans, they would simply be brushed aside like General Rommel going through El Alamein in North Africa.
Cameron found a convenient parking spot near the Kaufhof store and hoped it would be OK to park there all day. He glanced at his watch and noticed that it was only seven-thirty. He grabbed his attaché case and walked over to his office. The building itself appeared to be of modern construction, but was actually over a hundred years old, he thought to himself. The other tenants were mostly insurance companies, law firms or so they appeared to him. Cameron took the elevator to the third floor, and as he exited the elevator, he immediately noticed the doublewide glass door of his office, Aachener Freies Blatt (Aachen Free Press) was boldly emblazoned in three inch high letters across the center of the door. Jerry Kunstoff’s name was boldly painted on the side of the door.
No question as to who owned it, Cameron thought.
He walked in and was immediately surprised at the modern décor of the place. The front lobby was right out of a Scandinavian furniture store. Pale colors and pine furniture everywhere. However, other parts of the office were less modern and were more baroque. Towards the back of the room, sat a majestic woman. She was by any standards extremely tall, and when she stood up she appeared to be at least six-foot three. Frau Rausching wore a navy blue suit and wore her hair on a bun, which even made her look taller. She was by no means skinny, hardy German stock. Cameron thought to himself.
“Guten Tag, Herr Clark.” boomed a smiling Frau Rausching as he entered the office. Her English was impeccable, although a trace of Oxford grammar punctuated her sentences.
“Guten Tag to you, Frau Rausching.” He answered as he approached her desk. Cameron extended his hand towards her and she took it like a fullback running for a touchdown. Her grip was extremely powerful and her stare even more so.
It took Cameron a few seconds to recover from this wrestling experience. He politely bowed and withdrew his crushed right hand from her deadly grip. Wow! I am sure Frau Rausching wrestles professionally, he smiled deep in thought. The images of a six foot three, two hundred plus woman in tights rushed through his mind like a derailed freight train.
“I am glad to see that you are early, Frau Rausching. I have many things to discuss, and I would like to get started as soon as possible.” Stated an obviously confident Cameron.
“I am equally happy to see that you are also punctual, Herr Clark. One hears such unpleasant work ethic comments about Americans, and I am happy to see that they are not true.” Replied Frau Rausching in a snickering sort of way.
Cameron was a little dismayed at her comment, but decided not to take it too seriously right now. He would have plenty of opportunity to put her in her place in the near future. Frau Rausching walked Cameron to his new office, and politely informed him of the office regulations. Cameron listened attentively, without interrupting her and finally decided he had heard enough of her bullying.
“Frau Rausching, you must understand that my assignment in this office is only temporary. However, as long as I am here, you will try to follow my protocol. Jerry Kunstoff has given me the ultimate authority to run this office as I see fit, is that understood, Frau Rausching?” Stated a somewhat displeased Cameron.
His tone of voice and mannerisms obviously caught her by surprise. It was not very often that anyone dared to talk to her in that manner. She quietly reflected his demeanor, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor. She quietly smiled and bowed her head, as she walked out of the room. Cameron realized that Frau Rausching would be a hand full, but he had won the first battle. The next few hours were a series of interruptions as various staff members came in to introduce themselves during the morning hours. There was Fraulein Ziggerman, a thirty- something good-looking woman with brunette hair. Beate as all her colleagues knew her, had a catching smile and a face full of freckles. Her charming personality was contagious, and her work ethic unsurpassed by anyone.
Hans Guenther Froemer was the kid of the group. He was barely twenty-two, and yet pretended to be much older. He was a university student, majoring in ‘Journalism’, and spent