questioned its veracity. No one much misses Mr. Knoecher, it would seem.”
“That surprises me,” Erdmann said. “He had a certain charm.”
“A cultivated charm that he used to obtain information from his victims. From your use of the past tense, Colonel, I assume you agree with me that Mr. Knoecher has become a victim himself.”
“A murder victim,” Erdmann said, exhaling smoke through his nostrils, dragon fashion, “yes. And this presents certain… difficulties.”
“Such as the S.D. not being keen on having their agents bumped off.”
Captain Pruss frowned. “‘Bumped off’?”
Charteris grinned. “Sorry, Captain… that’s the Americans’ rather colorful vernacular for homicide.”
Lehmann, pipe in hand, leaned forward, saying, “All politics aside, the Zeppelin Company isn’t keen on having murders committed aboard our ships, either.”
“Admirable policy.”
Lehmann’s expression seemed somewhat exasperated. “Mr. Charteris… Leslie… you know that public relations are a major concern of ours. We are with this flight inaugurating our second season of round-trip travel to the United States. The damage this incident could do to the future of zeppelin travel is… well, it’s distressing even to contemplate.”
Charteris shrugged, saying, “You’re always going to have difficulties, Ernst, convincing Americans that you’re a friendly, cuddly bunch under that goose-stepping regime.”
“Be that as it may,” Lehmann said, “there remains the possibility that the… disappearance of Eric Knoecher will not be made public.”
“Because if it does, zep travel gets a black eye.” Charteris cast a glance at the Luftwaffe colonel. “And so does your government, if it becomes public knowledge that special police are traveling your ships as undercover spies.”
Erdmann said nothing, but Lehmann said, “That’s a rather harsh assessment, Leslie.”
“But an accurate one, Ernst. So what do the boys back home have to say? What’s the good word from Marshal Goering? Am I being enlisted to help cover up?”
Erdmann flicked ash onto the saucer where his coffee cup rested. “Neither Captain Lehmann nor myself will make the decision as to whether or not this apparent murder is revealed to the world at large.”
“Hasn’t someone back at Nazi Central made that decision already?”
Captain Pruss shifted in his seat, gesturing toward the grayness out the windows. “Mr. Charteris, we are currently in an electromagnetic storm. These conditions have created a complete radio blackout.”
“How long will that last?”
“As long as the storm. Possibly many hours.”
“Until we have a decision,” Erdmann said, “until we have our orders, from the Air Ministry, we would… appreciate your help.”
“In keeping Eric Knoecher alive and well and sick with a cold in my cabin, you mean?”
“Yes.” The Luftwaffe colonel glanced at Lehmann; there was something pained about it. “That, and something more.”
“What, gentlemen?”
Lehmann sighed pipe smoke. “I have discussed your offer with Captain Pruss and Colonel Erdmann.”
“What offer, Ernst?”
“To help in our… investigation.”
“Isn’t that Colonel Erdmann’s job?”
Erdmann said, “I understand you worked as a police constable.”
“Yes—briefly. Didn’t handle any murder cases, to speak of.”
“And that you studied criminology at school. And obviously, as a writer of mystery novels—”
Charteris interrupted with a laugh. “It might be dangerous assuming Zane Grey can punch cattle, my friends, or H. G. Wells pilot a spaceship. But if there is some manner in which I can help—certainly I’m at your service.”
Lehmann nodded, smiling a little. “Thank you, Leslie.”
“But I don’t offer this to help the brownshirt boys. I feel it’s obviously an unsettling thing that we may have a murderer among us—however aptly chosen his victim may have been. Still, this seems more appropriate for the colonel, here—”
“The colonel,” Lehmann said, with a wag of the head toward Erdmann, “cannot risk exposing the true nature of his presence here—which is to say, security.”
“We’re back to the bomb threat, again.”
Lehmann nodded gravely. “Yes. Furthermore, if the colonel actively investigates, the disappearance of Knoecher will become known. What we need, from you, Leslie, is something more along the lines of a… sub-rosa investigation.”
“A sort of discreet poking around, you mean.”
“Precisely. Asking ‘innocent’ questions, assessing reactions, without letting anyone know about Mr. Knoecher’s apparent dire fate.”
“Understood.”
“For example, Leslie, this morning, when you mentioned Knoecher’s cold, and confinement, to your cabin—did anyone react to this in any way that might be considered suspicious?”
“No. And I have to admit, I had that thought in mind. After all, the murderer would know I’m lying.”
“What I would suggest,” Erdmann said, shifting in his seat, “is striking up friendships with the handful of passengers we consider our most likely suspects.”
Charteris frowned. “You have thirty-some passengers, and at least as many crew members, plus stewards and officers… how can you narrow that group to a handful?”
Erdmann swallowed, his