Stile Maus (28 page)

‘Excellent isn’t it, they’ve pretty much sealed my signature tonight.’

Klaus turned to Dennis’ pimple dashed face.

‘You’re enlisting?’

‘Of course, aren’t you?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Oh come on Klaus.  I’m sure your Grandfather would have something to say about that.’

‘My Father pretty much marched me down to the town hall yesterday,’ Henry Sankt added, ‘it will be me and you leading the lines up there,’ he sniggered, gesturing at his pale blue eyes and golden hair.

‘Sure.’

Klaus took one last look at the passing flock and said goodbye to his friends.  It was as though the whole town had been suddenly enticed by some hypnotic illusion.  He headed home.  His ears still rang with the buzz of thunderous applause. 

He found his Grandfather in his study, stooped over a small bound of stacked paper, writing and reading by lamp light.  Klaus rapped his knuckles against the burl stained frame.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m going to make tea.  Do you want any?’

‘I’m fine for now, thank you.  I’ll be done shortly.’

Klaus nodded and caught sight of a bottle of bourbon sitting on his Grandfather’s desk.  With a sigh he padded though to the kitchen and set out two mugs.

‘My-oh-my you can’t tell me that’s young Klaus.’

‘Without a doubt,’ replied Felix, ‘hard to believe I know.’

Luther
Eichel surfaced from behind the half open door and peered past the frame.  His oversized suit cast a grand shadow into the light starved hallway.  

‘So, what do you think?’

Felix gathered the papers scattered around his desk into a neat bundle and tucked them gently into his top drawer.

‘It’s risky Luther.  A huge risk, I have a lot to think over before I can give you an answer.’

‘Granted,’ Luther replied huskily, ‘we’ve all got things we want to protect.  Just do me a favour and consider what I’ve said.  The people, they hide behind this veil of happiness and hope but really, really their just as scared as you and I.’ 

‘Listen Luther...’

‘Two stores, Felix.  Two.  Completely demolished, laced in filth.  I swear to you each time I lock my shop up for the night I fear that when I return to it in the morning the Star of David will be waiting for me.’

Felix sighed and rose from his seat.

‘Please Felix.  Just think it over,’ his chubby finger padded gently atop a black notebook on the corner of the desk, ‘you have the information.’

‘I do.  You’ll be hearing from me in a few days.  You have my word.’

Luther placed a hat upon his slick rise of dark hair and huffed with a hopeful smile.

‘If the people of Stuttgart are going to listen to anyone, it’s you.’

After a word starved supper, Klaus headed out to the shed and began mopping down the mud smothered wheels of the Harley.  He would usually do it straight after he wheeled her in after a night’s ride but last night had been a rare exception.  Following a hugged goodbye shared with Elsie, Klaus had veered onto St. Michael Street and switched off the headlights.  His ritual was simple and usually consistent.  He would turn off the engine as he approached his Grandfather’s house and then climb down and wheel
her the rest of the way.  He would then grab an old rag and dose it in a soak of warm water and scrub at the spittle of dirt that ran across the burgundy chassis.  Upon his arrival Klaus noticed a spill of light coming from the kitchen and decided to linger in the alley beside the house.  A few minutes later the light faded and Klaus slipped into the shed and threw a spare tarp over the motorcycle.  His Grandfather didn’t know about his late night tirades and he wanted to keep it that way.

‘When I said you needed a hobby I didn’t mean cleaning motorcycles.’

Klaus sighed and turned to see his Grandfather standing in the doorway. 

‘I-I...’

‘You know the strangest thing happened last night.  I came downstairs, poured myself a glass of water and noticed that the light in the shed was on...’

Klaus sulked and shook his head.

‘You’re losing your touch.’

Grabbing a cloth away from the side Felix pulled up a stool by the back wheel and ran it over the smeared pistons.

‘How long have you known?’

‘A few months,’ he said with a smile, ‘how does she ride?’

‘Well, you fixed her up pretty good.’

The bulb of the lamp above them hummed in thoughtful silence.  They both wanted to speak.  Both had things they wanted to say.  It ended up being a quiet night. 

A day or two later, Luther returned. 
This time with an appointment.  He seemed oddly perplexed, his words rushed. 

‘They want to meet you and Hugo.’

‘What has Hugo got to do with this?’

‘Come on Felix.  A war hero and a battle hardened field medic, the townsfolk would follow you to the worlds end.’

‘I’d need to discuss this with him, Luther.  And you know what he can be like.’

‘
Which is why I’ll leave it to you to convince him.’

‘When does he want to meet?’

‘Tomorrow.  Twelve-thirty.’

Luther handed over a small envelope and Felix unfolded it and read the letter inside. 

‘You received this by mail?  You know this can be traced?’

‘No, no,’ countered Luther, ‘this morning I met with my contact in Berlin.  He assures me that the operation is held under the strictest of confidence.’

‘I’ll let you know by this evening.’

Klaus pushed away from the crack of the door and tiptoed into the darkness of the corridor.  He had to read that letter.

The handles trundled under his palms.  He flicked the ignition and rolled into the shadows.  Elsie appeared on the veranda and gestured for him to go around the back of the house.  She met him in the garden.  An overgrown wave of shrubbery twanged under her stride and she handed him the rubber ball. 

‘What’s the matter?’ she said.  He could tell she was worried and spoke quickly, desperate not to keep her guessing.

‘Something’s happening,’ Klaus replied, ‘come on.’

They climbed onto Harley and took off into the night. 

‘Luther
Eichel proposed some sort of deal to my Grandfather,’ Klaus whispered over the slow drill of tumbling wheels. 

‘What kind of deal?’

‘I don’t know.  They’ve been meeting and talking in Opa’s study.’

Elsie remained silent and clung to his jacket as they turned a corner.

‘There’s something else.’

‘What is it?’

‘Luther mentioned your Father.  He said something about an operation and a contact he found in Berlin.’

He felt Elsie’s fingers clench into his jacket.

‘We have to find out what’s going on Klaus.’

Specks of rain began to fall. 

‘Felix said he’s going to talk to your Father, though I don’t know when.  Is there any way we can listen in?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I don’t even know where they’d meet.  Your house?  Ours?  The practice?’

‘The practice,’ Elsie yelled.

‘How do you know?’

‘No,’ she retorted, ‘I’m helping my Father out at the practice, tomorrow. 
At around noon.’

They came to the alleyway outside Elsie’s house and Klaus pulled onto the curb.

‘Perfect.  You stay with your Father and I’ll follow Felix.  Surely one of us will find out something.’

‘Meet here tomorrow night, nine o’clock?’

Klaus nodded and kissed at her cheek.  She kept her hand atop his shoulder and stared into his eyes.  He could tell she was afraid. 

‘Please,’ she said, ‘please, Klaus.  Just find out what’s going on.’

‘I promise.’  He watched her lips settle against one another and he thought about leaning in and kissing her.  

‘Klaus look!’ 

From the murky confines of the alleyway they could see two figures speaking on veranda. 

‘It’s your Grandfather,’ she said with a hushed whisper, ‘and that’s my Father.’  

Klaus dug his heel into the ground and pegged the motorcycle backwards. 

‘I guess this is the part where
Opa tells Doctor Brandt.’

‘About what though,’ Elsie said testily, ‘what could it be?’

‘That’s what we’re going to find out.’ 

The two shadows seemed to shake hands and depart.

‘I promise you we’ll find out.’

Klaus tussled against the warm shallows of his bed sheets.  His mind hummed with the constant drill of a thousand thoughts.  He could hear the raspy static of the radio downstairs.  His Grandfather was yet to retire and Klaus presumed he sat in his study.  The exact place he needed to be.  He wanted to know what the letter in the envelope had said.  He figured that would be the starting point.  All he had to go on so far was the fact that Luther Eichel had set up some sort of meeting or operation that involved his Grandfather and Doctor Brandt.  The landing light pinged on and he heard footsteps take to the stairs, a few minutes later the door to his Grandfather’s room opened and closed.  Klaus was quick on his toes and crept into the hallway and down the staircase.  The study sat to the left and he slipped through the half open door. 

His Grandfather’s desk sat beneath the window and he searched there first, flicking
open each draw with a gentle lift.  A scatter of moonlight shone through the laddered blinds and he followed the pearly blue glow for a while before tugging at the desk lamp.  A rush of warm amber bleached the room.  Klaus frowned as he rooted through the bottom drawer.  Nothing but newspaper clips and stacked heaps of browning paper.  His fingers met something cold.  Something hard and metallic, that clunked and rattled against the pit of the drawer.  The curved handle of a Luger delved into his palm.  It must have been from the war.  There was something else.  A watch face twinkled at the back of his searching stare, a pair of Prussian blue hands slinked slowly behind a perfect pearl casing.  It was meticulously made, etched with beautiful detail.  Klaus ran his thumb over the glass.  He’d never seen his Grandfather wear it but he remembered it, he remembered it well.  He tucked the Luger back into the drawer and the watch with it, shuffling a bunch of papers over each.  An old bookcase lined the far wall and he checked there next.  With quick snaps he peeled away each book by its bind, hastily shaking them and hoping for a note or letter to flutter away from the ripple of pages within.  He made sure to keep his trail neat.  As he came to the second from last shelf he noticed that a brown ridge had been wedged against the cover and opening page of a navy blue hardback. 

‘Bingo.’

The fold of the envelope came away and out slipped a thin crease of white paper.  The page was entitled ‘For the attention of Mr Felix Kalb’ and a small paragraph lay beneath its bold print.  There was an address and a time.

~ Hyman Avenue, Klatt’s Cafe, 11:00 ~

It finished with yours sincerely.  No name.  Klaus read it again, paying superfluous attention to every detail.  Klatt’s cafe was a small breakfast diner that sat at the brim of Stuttgart.  It couldn’t be more than ten minutes away.  He didn’t understand.  The whole thing boggled his mind and disorientated his way of thinking.  With one final look Klaus set the page back into the envelope and placed it back behind the book cover. 

‘Klaus, I’m leaving now.  I’ll be back soon.  Take care.’

‘Okay
Opa.  See you soon.’

His voice was muffled behind the scattered fall of the shower.  But he wasn’t inside the tub.  He was stood by the
mirror, his reflection drizzled in misty beads.  The steam had gathered so much that it had dampened his hair and caused long curls of his fringe to fall to his brow.  With a quick swipe he smeared a clear spot on the mirror and stared at himself.  He had no idea what to expect. 

It was a dark day.  The clouds bullied together and travelled in giant black, smouldering puffs.  Klaus felt the rain on the curve of his cheeks.  He tugged at the silk neck scarf beneath the opening of his jacket and set it against his chin.  Harley purred under his gloved clasp and he rattled away from the shed and onto the street.  It had been a good seven minutes since his Grandfather had left.  Klaus wasn’t sure how he would be getting to the cafe, perhaps a cab car.  He kept to the back streets, passing washing lines and ghostly white faces who had began frantically un-pegging each hanging garment before rushing inside.  A bump rocked the wheels and he swerved into Hyman Close.  He could park the bike around the back and take to the Avenue by foot.  Rain flicked at his lashes and he wiped them away with the back of his gloves.  He came to a halt outside an old run down shop and dismounted, staring up at the pattern of shattered windows before tucking his hands into his jacket pockets and nestling his cold chin into the silk bandana.  He crept onto the pavement and hid behind a wall of crumbling brick.  Klatt’s café sat at the far end of Hyman Avenue.  It was unlike any other building on the road, mainly because its exterior sported a canopy of rich red and blue.  A few of the surrounding establishments were old with age and had wooden boards strewn across the window frames. The road was unusually vacant.  A murky morning mist loitered.  Klaus edged forwards and attempted to better his view with a peering snare.  Was his Grandfather already inside?  He pulled his gloves away from the stick of the wall and headed for the next closure further on down the street.  It was then he saw Felix turn the corner.  With a sharp jolt Klaus leaped into a sheltered doorway and nursed his shoulder and the inevitable bruise that was surely soon to follow.  He noticed his Grandfather had been alone.  Where were Luther and Doctor Brandt?  He assumed they were sitting inside and he poked his head around the cove, catching the simmering glare of Felix walking through the shop door.  An arrangement of chairs and tables graced the forecourt, some hidden beneath the crooked shade of jagged umbrellas.  He stuck close to the wall and kept his head low, moving off with quick footsteps.  The rain soared now, soaking his hair through.  He swept a hand across his tumbling fringe and crossed the road, approaching the large window at a careful angle.  Klaus turned and looked behind his shoulder.  There was an eerie feel to it all, an impending scent of looming doom.  He pushed the thought to one side and crossed into the maze of tables, grabbing a newspaper off the surface of one and sitting at the next.  There, he raised the paper over his face.  He was practically facing the window though he didn’t dare peek past the lettered sheets.  Not yet.  His heart raced.  This was it.