Crossword (40 page)

"Oh, thank God!" A woman's voice floated up to
him, weakened and hoarse. On his hands and knees he peered over the edge into
the darkness of the opening and could make out a human form at the bottom. He
was glad it was human because he had heard of troll-like creatures that lurked
in old buildings as well as under bridges. "Who is that up there?"

"It's me, Franz Schluter." Feeling that his
response was appropriate and sufficient, he said no more but waited politely. A
sigh emanated from below.

"Franz, how old are you?"

"Eleven."

"Well, Franz, would you get me a ladder so I can get
out of here."

"What are you doing down there?"

"Please, just get me a ladder."

"I don't have one. How did you get down there?"

The woman's voice, relatively calm until now, came blasting
upward in a shriek. "Get me a fucking ladder you little shit! Get you
father to bring one right away. I'm an important person and it's urgent that I
get to Munich."

Franz didn't think she would be interested in hearing that
his father was not at home so he just yelled, "Yes ma'am," as he
dashed for the door.

It was almost an hour until help came, and Eva, who had been
resigned to death, growing almost philosophical as she sat in the dark, hellish
confines of the cellar, had returned to her usual arrogant, strident and
egotistical self. Unable to climb the skeleton remains of the ladder and unable
to force the trap door open, she was willing to accept her fate, but now that
she was about to be freed she saw no reason not to continue with her previous
plans, and, moreover, the rage that had been suppressed when retribution seemed
impossible was now unleashed. The cave like solitude had sparked no humanistic
or religious epiphany in the cold soul of this succubus.

When men returned with a light, ladder and blankets, Eva was
extricated in short order. As to the questioning stares upon seeing the body of
a dead soldier in the cellar, she simply responded that he was a spy and she
must be taken to SS headquarters in Munich immediately. When asked by the men
folk what they should do with the body, she replied, "I don't care; why
don't you just leave him there and close the door."

The locals were all too happy to acquiesce to her wishes,
especially the part about getting her to Munich right away. Out of sight, out
of mind.

Franz hadn't mentioned to anyone about the staff car, and no
one had thought to look behind the barn, so for the next several days, after he
finished his work, he found himself behind the wheel of a black Mercedes,
driving off to a new adventure.

* *

Maria set up a small table next to the bed so Larry didn't have to
eat his meals in bed, nor would he have to walk into the room at the far side
of the house where the family ate. In point of fact, once he awoke and started
eating, he rapidly regained his strength and could easily have walked
completely around the rather large farmhouse if he desired, although it was
likely that Maria would have insisted that he not exert himself in such a way. Of
course, the real reason she had brought in the table was so that she could
spend time with him away from the numerous family members and friends that
always seemed to be around, and Larry was only too happy with the arrangement
in that regard.

They had just finished a meal that consisted of a large bowl
of mixed vegetables in a broth thickened with flour, sort of a cross between a
soup and a vegetable stew. Out of deference to his recuperation, Larry was
apportioned a small piece of meat, a commodity in short supply, even on a farm.
Larry pushed his bowl away, sopping up the last of the liquid in his remaining
piece of bread, and sat staring at Maria who was finishing the last of her
smaller portion. He liked looking at her and it was almost hypnotic, requiring
a conscious effort to pull himself back and return his thoughts to the mission
which had brought him into Germany. She looked up and caught his eyes on her,
feeing something of the same emotions that she was sure he felt.

Larry took a sip of water and decided that it was time to
have the discussion that Maria had adroitly avoided since he awoke. He knew
that he had suffered a concussion when a hefty piece of the car slammed into
him as he was running for safety, and that no major bones were broken, although
he figured he broke at least one, maybe two, ribs, notwithstanding the fact
that the local farmer who served as the closest approximation to a doctor that
the small rural community was blessed with, thought otherwise. Having broken
ribs twice before, once in a soccer collision and once when a brother with a
baseball bat took exception to Larry dating his sister, it was not a sensation
to be confused with mere bruising. As to internal injuries, the great fear the
"doctor" had had, the practical answer was to simply wait and see; if
there were anything serious it would make itself known soon enough. Larry
healed quickly and actually felt much better than his bruised and battered body
implied to the casual medical observer, and so it was time to face the crux of
the situation, which was that he was not on a vacation in southern Germany but
had to exit as quickly as possible with his dual cargo. "You said that the
plutonium is safe and out of the way, and everyone has been told to keep their
distance from it." He felt compelled to reiterate what he had said before,
almost with his first breath when he awoke, out of concern for the family that
harbored him, putting themselves in peril, while he recuperated.

Maria patiently replied, as she had each time Larry asked.
"They put it in an old potato sack and left it in an unused corner of
their barn, surrounded and covered by bales of hay, and all of the children
have been sternly warned to stay away."

"Good. It's time we made plans to get to where we can
cross into Switzerland. The first thing ... "

She interrupted. "You are not ready yet."

"I know. Not now, but in a day or two. Every day we
delay makes it that much more difficult. Those who will help us will check the
rendezvous points for only so long."

"You need at least a week."

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"We'll leave Friday morning." His voice sent the
message that there would be no compromise. "Traveling as a couple will
arouse less suspicion and we should be able to cover the remaining distance in
about four days."

"The farmer said he can arrange to take us part
way."

"I don't want to put them at risk. The war may be close
to over, but the Nazis still shoot traitors, and that's what he'd be
called."

"He knows how far he can safely travel without anyone
asking questions, and besides, he owes you the life of two of his children, a
debt that he feels honor bound to repay."

"OK, then. That will increase our chances a bit. How
are his children doing?"

"One of the boys has a broken ankle and some kind of
injury to his knee from the horse, the other has superficial burns and a nasty
gash on the forehead, which does seem to be healing alright, although he'll
have a pretty big scar. The girl looks like she's back to normal, but sometimes
I see her standing off by herself and just staring up at the sky. I think her
scars are inside."

"And the boy that was killed?"

"What can one say? They buried him the next day,
thankful that at least you had kept him from being burned beyond recognition.
Their grief was overwhelming, but they are very private people, and they
returned to work afterwards, their tears dried and their mourning tucked away
inside somewhere, except for the mother, who I sometimes find in the kitchen,
wiping her eyes as soon as I enter."

"Death can be almost an abstraction, especially from
five thousand feet in the air, but when it's close to you it's something
palpable, something that stays with you and can't be washed off or ripped from
your soul. The best you can hope for is that it may be worn thin with time."
Thoughts of his own mortality intruded into his consciousness and with them
came questions, unanswered and confusing, but which he could not face at the
moment. "Did the military come to investigate the attack site? Were they
asking questions of any of the farmers around here —— what they
saw, what they heard?"

"There was little interest on their part. The soldiers
were being transferred from the north to somewhere distant from here so there
were no personal connections to anyone at the local garrison. They merely
removed the remains, picked up a few rifles that were intact and then pushed
the wreckage to the side of the road, and the only reason they did that was
because the locals made a big fuss about them leaving everything to block the
way."

"No questions about who might have been in the staff
car and where they got to? There were no bodies near it."

"But there were. A few of the men carried the remains
of a couple of soldiers, unrecognizable from the blast and the fire, and dumped
them near the car."

"These are good people here."

"They have no love for Hitler or the Nazi party. Their
lives have not been improved by this war, even from the beginning."

"When we leave, we can't take very much with us, so if
you need to put aside the necessities you'll need for a couple of days on the
road, you might want to get that done in advance. The plutonium will be easiest
for me to carry if I could put it in a knapsack I could wear over my shoulders.
Do they have something like that?"

"If not, I'm sure one could be fashioned. But, Lorenz,
if it's so dangerous and we all have to stay away from it, how come you are
able to carry it? And what about me? I picked up that little crate it was in
and took it to the truck that brought us hear."

"Those are questions we need to talk about. Let's take
a walk; we have about an hour of daylight left. It's safe to wander along the
paths through their fields; anyone on the road is unlikely to even see
us."

"Let me get my coat and borrow one for you." Maria
carried the dishes away and returned a few minutes later carrying a jacket for
Larry, who slipped it on and followed her to the door at the rear of the house.

They walked in silence for a while surrounded by winter
wheat, not yet shoulder height, the green-yellow shoots swaying in a soft
evening breeze, before Larry began a conversation that he anticipated would be
difficult for him. "Maria, I have to tell you some things and it's not
easy for me. You know that the plutonium is dangerous, that's why it was packed
in all that shielding. When you carried it to the truck, and if you handled it
at any other time, you were exposed to the danger; but I'm not a scientist and
I don't know if the time you were in contact with it was enough to do you
serious harm. Once we're in Switzerland the doctors there can check you out.
They're very good and I'm sure they could do something for the short exposure
you had. I'm really sorry that it had to happen."

"There is more than enough for all of us to be sorry
about. I could have died on a number of occasions during the last two weeks,
but I didn't, and I'm thankful for that, so I think now I will just have to
learn to face each day without guarantees and be satisfied with that. You,
Lorenz, however, are planning to carry this plutonium with you, close to your
body, for several days. What will that do to you?"

"It will kill me." As soon as the words left his
mouth he regretted having simply blurted it out like that, but there was, he
thought, really no way to sugar coat what had to be said. The expression on
Maria's face, fleeting disbelief followed by horror as she realized the
seriousness in his voice, penetrated to his very depths, as deep as any dagger
thrust into his heart.

"No, Lorenz, please, tell me that is not so. You can't
die from this stupid lump of metal, not after all you've been through. Just
toss it into a river like we did with the keys. I don't want you to die."
She stopped walking and turned to him, taking his two hands in hers, her tears
unimpeded and free to flow down her cheeks.

"I'm dying anyway."

"No. That is not so. You handled it even less than
me."

"It's not the plutonium. I have cancer and it's going
to kill me. That's why it doesn't matter how much contact I have with the
plutonium; one way or the other I ... " His voice trailed off, leaving the
thought unsaid, concerned for Maria's feelings and scared to once more bring to
the fore emotions which he had tried, not very successfully, to bury after his
initial confrontation with them.

"You'll see the doctors in Switzerland, you said
yourself how good they were."

"There's nothing they can do. I've already seen them
and the cancer is inoperable. That's why I volunteered for this mission. I'm so
sorry I had to tell you this, Maria, but I am sick and I'm dying."

"I don't believe it. You don't look sick."

Larry released one of his hands from hers, and still holding
tight with the other, guided her along the path, continuing their walk.
"Well, you're right that I probably don't look like I'm dying. I don't
feel sick either and that's strange because before I left on this mission I was
coughing and out of breath most of the time. The doctor gave me medicine that
improved all of that, but I lost it shortly after I entered Germany, and I
figured I might get too sick to complete the operation. As a matter of fact,
I've felt pretty good other than getting banged around a lot. Very strange. I
don't understand it, but I saw the x-ray and there was no mistaking it."

"Maybe he mixed you up with someone else, showed you
the wrong x-ray, and there's another patient feeling sick and dying and
wondering why they have a normal x-ray."

"They don't make those kind of mistakes, and besides, I
need to get this plutonium out of Germany, it's crucial, so, as I said, either
way my fate is sealed." Hand in hand they strolled on, the touch of the
other providing comfort, but each lost in their private thoughts.