Stile Maus (20 page)

Colonel Hermann was a man possibly just entering his forties, his build surprisingly stocky.  He circled the barn, studying the naked walls. 

‘Going somewhere?’ he inquired softly, taking off his hat and setting it down on the workbench.

‘I’m sorry?’ Francis answered.

‘The boxes,’ Colonel Herman replied sternly. 

‘Spring cleaning,’ Francis countered, trying his best not to sound tested.

‘I see,’ grinned the Colonel, ‘and this sheet here, what’s this?’  He gently nudged at the jagged sphere with his boot.  Francis hid both of his lips and his eyes grew wide and stressed.

‘That,’ shuddered Francis, ‘that’s just an old tractor engine.’

‘I
see
,’ repeated the Colonel, ‘in any case, getting back to the business of last night.  It appears that a German patrol unit was ambushed quite mercilessly in an open field not far from here during the early hours of the morning.  Well, it’s needless to say there was a considerable amount of gunfire, something that I was hoping yourself or your family members had perhaps heard.’  It was more of an accusation that a question. 

‘I’m afraid not, Colonel.’

‘You didn’t give it much thought, nor do you seem surprised.’

‘
Myself and my wife are asleep at around eleven each night, my children sooner.  And forgive me Colonel but I find myself rarely surprised these days.’   

The Colonel huffed but decided to wave the insult.

‘You didn’t hear
anything
?’

‘Once I doze off, that’s me for the night Colonel.’

Colonel Herman nodded.

‘Your wife and children, they didn’t mention anything?’

‘Forgive me, Colonel but
this is
the second occasion on which we’ve been visited and...’

‘Ah yes,’ interrupted Colonel Herman, ‘Lieutenant Jung informed me of your conversation.  Funny story actually...’ 

Francis nodded along, hoping the Colonel would soon stop rambling and head back to the grumbling truck outside. 

‘Only a few hours before Lieutenant Jung paid you a visit, I found myself not too far from here, stranded within a field, alone and in the cold, my body bruised and aching from the fall.’

Francis raised his stare, an unsettling feeling mustering within the pits of his stomach.  The Colonel continued before Francis could offer a question.

‘You see, we were travelling into Paris from Nurnberg and very suddenly the fuel gauge dropped, causing the plane to begin plummeting at an incredible speed.’

The Colonel removed the leather glove from one of his hands and dug a crane of fingers into his jacket pocket.  Francis noticed a black splint wrapped against Colonel Herman’s wrist and watched intently as he proceeded to unfold a damp sheet of paper before his eyes. 

‘Upon notifying my co-pilot that the aircraft was failing I was able to eject from the chamber, he however, was not so lucky.’  The piece of ragged paper had now extended each fold and a spatter of faint words fell across the page.

‘I managed to reach a stretch of main road where I flagged down an oncoming vehicle ,’ his voice grew dry and his words suffered, ‘on the way I must have passed out from the pain and I woke within the medical wing of the nearest barracks a day or so later.’       

A snarl of gnarls and barks sounded in the distance.  Colonel Herman lumbered over to the arrangement of sheeting towards the back of the barn.  

‘The location of the aircraft and my dear, dear friend are still unknown, despite a full scale search.’  Francis shuddered.  Howls could be heard outside. 

‘After my recovery I was assigned to the countryside, to seek out the reality of what had happened.  Today however, I found myself distracted with another, somewhat niggling incidence.  An incidence that led me to an empty field, showered in bullets and the blood of hidden ghosts.  A forest sat behind that field, and your cottage beyond that.  But do you know what I came across in that forest, Mr Dubois?’  

Struggling to calm his quavering nerves, Francis shook his head, ever so slightly.

‘This.’

Colonel Hermann flipped a sheet away from his pocket and smudged at the creases until it sat neatly within his pinch. 

‘It’s headed,
the secrets of my Father’s farm
, and I must admit Mr Dubois, it is incredibly generous in detail.  So much so that it states, several times in fact, that
Father was hiding someone in the barn
.’

Colonel Hermann enjoyed Francis’ torture and strode gently towards the pointed mount of the nearest tarp, clenching at the summit with a gloved fist.  His pea green eyes flicked away from the sheet and fell over Francis’ flame seared stubble.

‘
The stranger rode out from the barn on Father’s motorcycle
.  Interesting.  I’m guessing Alfred Ludin didn’t climb out from a fiery wreckage, spend a night in your barn here and then ride out the next morning on a motorcycle.  No, I’m guessing my dear friend was here and so was the missing survivor of last night’s gunfight.  But they’re not here now, are they.’  It wasn’t a question, not in the slightest.

Francis couldn’t speak, his forehead raged with fear.  Colonel Herman grinned with an unforgiving wickedness.  The sheet came away beneath his sharp pull and it fell at Francis’ boots, taking a moment or two to completely settle.  A great bulk of metal sat amongst the murky swamp of an ageing dust sheet, the resurrected engine of an aircraft, clumsily wedged together with amateurish tools and slack bonding agents.  Francis wiped a stream of sweat away from beneath his nose.  The gnashes and grunts of Alsatian hordes spilled through the silence.   Colonel Herman removed the gloves from his hot hands. 

‘I think it’s about time you told me what you did with Alfred Ludin, Mr Dubois.  And please, don’t leave anything out.’

THE ENCORE

‘Captain Linder, I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.’  Lieutenant Keitel marched across the sun kissed courtyard, approaching Tobias with an outstretched hand. 

‘Apologies Lieutenant,’ Tobias smiled, ‘I’m afraid my driver is still adjusting to the traffic in this city, a big change from Munich I should imagine.’

‘I sympathise, Captain, when were you re-stationed?’

They shook hands and strode side by side toward the barracks that sat across the concrete square.

‘A few weeks ago,’ replied Tobias, ‘yourself?’

‘Around a month ago, it takes some getting used to, a beautiful city nonetheless.’  Tobias agreed with a nod and followed Lieutenant Keitel to a quiet lobby where a fresh faced private sat behind a reception desk, instantly jumping to his feet as the two entered.  The air became warm and smelt of supper.       

‘I should mention that men are currently having their afternoon meal,’ said the Captain, figuring his guest had probably cottoned on to the travelling aroma.

‘Not to worry Lieutenant, how many men have you got in the garrison?’

‘Over a thousand.’
  They came to an office and the smell of lunch vanished as Tobias slid into an uncomfortable armchair. 

‘Drink?’ asked Lieutenant Keitel.

‘If it’s not frowned upon,’ smiled Tobias. 

‘I doubt anyone could frown upon a twenty-three year old scotch,’ sniggered the Lieutenant as he fetched a couple of glasses from a glass cabinet.  Tobias wondered what the building had been before the army had moved in but refrained from asking once the glass met his palm.

‘To our Fuhrer,’ yelled Lieutenant Keitel, raising his glass towards a portrait that sat beside the sun swollen window. 

‘To the Fuhrer,’ Tobias returned. 

‘So I gathered from Heinrich that you would be checking in on a few of the barracks around Paris?’

‘That’s correct, just routine inspections, making sure everyone’s happy.’

‘Well I wish we had something that would have made your journey worthwhile Captain but the truth is we’re seeing nothing at the moment.  It’s all road blocks and training drills.’ 

Tobias nodded and finished his scotch. 

‘Here,’ the Lieutenant said, rising from his seat, ‘I’ll show you around, it’s the least I can do.’

The food hall hummed with conversation.  Rows and rows of hunched shoulders scooped at their trays, paying little attention to the two passing officers. 

‘They look restless,’ observed Tobias, studying the sea of glum faces.

‘They are, it’s all talk at the moment, they’re eager to get out there and see some action.’

‘Aren’t we all,’ lied Tobias.

‘The rumours don’t help.’

‘Rumours?’

‘You know the kind, nonsense about nothing.  The French radical group known as the
stallers
seem to be at the height of discussion at the present moment.’

Tobias scoffed.  The hall seemed endless.  Enormous chandeliers descended from the tall ceilings.  The room seemed to be boxed within an arrangement of small coves, each filled with a bank of neatly stacked books.  Some had fallen and now lay open upon the surrounding desks or were simply left on the floor to fluster amidst an army of footsteps. 

‘Come to think of it,’ said Liuetenant Keitel, ‘there was something that caused quite a stir, well, it must have been around three or four nights ago.’

‘Oh?’ Tobias responded.

‘Like I said, it was around four nights ago and I found myself in the courtyard, cigar in hand and breathing in the cold evening breeze when I noticed an officer sneaking in through the gates.  After I called him over he lit up and joined me in a smoke before proceeding to tell me about his night.’

Tobias nodded politely, having already begun to drift away.

‘Well, it just so happens that this officer had been drinking in a tavern with a local girl when the bartender strolls over and tells them that that night a German celebrity had been in town.’ 

‘And who would that be?’ Tobias grinned.

‘I’ll give you a clue,’ said the Lieutenant, ‘Sunset of Le Havre.’

Tobias halted for a moment, his legs suddenly cold.

‘Got it yet?’

Continuing along the corridor Tobias shrugged and attempted to offer a nervous laugh yet nothing surfaced.

‘Toby Vilsmaier of course, here in Paris,’ Lieutenant Keitel sniggered.  Trying to hide his incredible gush of anxiety, Tobias quickened his pace, hoping the Lieutenant would follow his lead and the end of the hall would soon fall at their feet.

‘The officer, he didn’t h-happen to mention what the tavern was called, did he?’ 

‘Now that you mention it...’

‘Ah Lieutenant Keitel, I was hoping to run into you.’  Though Tobias hadn’t noticed, he and the rambling Lieutenant had passed through an archway and left the hall of clinking cutlery behind them and were now standing before a fast approaching figure.

‘Good afternoon, Lieutenant!’ responded Keitel, his attention now fixed upon the tall shouldered officer that came to a saluting halt just beside Tobias’s sweat drenched tunic. 

‘Captain Linder, I would like you to meet Lieutenant Klaus Jung, a member of the Luftwaffe division, he’s taking care of some business in Paris and decided to drop in.  Captain Linder here is visiting from Munich.’

Tobias glared into the face of the man that stood before him and faked a smile.

‘Pleasure.’
 

Tobias desperately tried not to tear his gawp away from the officer’s stare but found his gaze faltering down to the ladder of scarring that was so mercilessly lashed across the young man’s pale face.  His hair was pushed back, parted to one side and incredibly blonde though his eyebrows were darker, a mousier shade of brown.

‘You look strangely familiar, Captain Linder,’ began Lieutenant Jung, ‘have we met before?’

Tobias felt a bubble of sweat muster beneath his moustache.

‘Not that I can recall,’ he decided to counter cockily, looking over the mask of scars with an unnerving glare, ‘I think I would have remembered.’

Lieutenant Jung creased his lips but smiled, as though the comment was meant as a compliment as opposed to an insult. 

‘I’ll come and find you later Lieutenant,’ he said nodding at Lieutenant Keitel before shooting a grin at Tobias and then heading off down the hallway once more. 

‘Good man, Lieutenant Jung,’ concluded Keitel as he put a hand on Tobias’s shoulder and directed him towards a curved reception desk across the lobby.

‘So, what do you think, Vilsmaier?’

‘Sorry?’ Tobias returned in a panic, his heart flaring up once more.