Stile Maus (32 page)

‘Klaus?’ the man seemed to have attempted a whisper but bellowed instead.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m Howard
Goetsch, a friend of your Grandfather’s.’

Klaus watched his lips part and then tried to push away from the mattress.

‘Easy,’ Howard Goestch said, ‘get yourself cleaned up then come and sit with the rest of us in the living room.’

‘Rest of you?’

Howard offered a kind smile and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, eager to reassure him.

‘Hugo will explain everything to you a little later.’

Klaus searched his mind.  For a few seconds he had almost forgotten the unfortunate events that had occurred earlier that day.  Was it even the same day?  He looked around the small room, past the stocky frame of Mr Goetsch and through the wide window that sat an arms reach away.  The sky was dark, pitch black.  Howard Goetsch got up and strode out from the room.  Klaus felt at the ripples on his face.  Each bump tingled beneath his fingertips with a numbing zing that transferred a knot right to his stomach.

‘How are you feeling?’

He looked up and saw her.  He thought he’d never see her again.  Teardrops swept across her rosy cheeks.  Klaus began to nod but the weight of his tears tilted his head to one side.  Elsie came rushing to the mattress and caught his chin within her arms.  There were no words, just an understanding of sorrowed silence that was only disturbed with a series of sobs and gritted whimpers.  She kissed at his warm head.

‘Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s get you cleaned up.’

The water calmed his throbbing face.  Every splash soaked into his pale skin and dampened the bridge of his hairline until his white hair became a golden brown.

‘There’s something you need to know,’ Elsie spoke gently, as though she was going to regret every word.             

Klaus watched the pool of blood as it spiralled down the sink hole and then raised his face to the mirror. 

‘What is it?’

‘The night your Grandfather came here, the night we saw him and my Father talking.  Do you remember?’

‘Yes.’

‘Felix didn’t mention anything about a meeting or Luther
Eichel or anything like that.  He came; well he came to ask my Father if he would watch over you, should he ever be in a position where he couldn’t himself.’

Klaus’ face began to form behind the withdrawing mist that webbed over the mirror and he stared deeply into the reflection standing before him.  His blond hair swayed at the curve of his unsettled brow.

‘What are you saying?’

‘He knew, Klaus.  He knew that something was going to happen and if by some chance that’s not the case, he sensed it.’

Klaus didn’t say a word.  Elsie nestled her head into the arch of his back and held his face with the warm creases of her palms. 

‘Please,’ she whispered, her words as soft as the flow of water coming from the taps, ‘please don’t lose the good that’s inside
you, don’t let this destroy your kind heart…’

He thought over her words and then turned, resting his bruised chin against her pink cheeks.  Her sweet smell of vanilla accord triggered a reel of memories within his mind and for a moment, only a brief heartbeat of a moment, he thought that this all could be some sort of dream, a lucid mist right before his awakening.  He was wrong and he met his own stare within the mirror, flicking a troubled glance over the lashes of red that weaved against one side of his face like a broken shadow.  Elsie kissed at his bare shoulder and left him to dress.

He took a comb to his hair and pushed each yellow blade down towards his scalp until a neat parting had formed, one side much thicker than the other.  He imagined the clasp of a finely pressed collar around his neck and an olive uniform to go with it, starred with medals and coloured flags.  He wanted to look just like one of them.

The living room chimed with the ring of heated debate.  There were voices he recognised and voices he didn’t but they all became silent as Klaus appeared in the doorway.  Hugo rose from his armchair and offered Klaus a seat opposite the tall, standing frame of Howard Goetsch. 

‘Klaus, this is
Til Drezner and this here is Carsten Lazzatto, I believe you have already met Mr Goetsch.’

Klaus nodded and shook each man firmly by the hand.  Max sat in the corner, his hands wrapped around a glass of scotch but he smiled compassionately.  His face was full of pain. 
Carsten Lazzatto was a dark man.  His eyebrows were thin and well kept and his hair had an almost silver shine to it.  Next to him sat Til Drezner, who, on the other hand, had a dissimilarly pallor complexion.  His eyes were a deep crystal blue.  They both watched Klaus languidly until he sat.  Hugo stepped into the centre of the room and cleared his throat. 

‘Klaus, sat around this room, though you may not know it, are some of your Grandfather’s closest friends.  What happened
yesterday, shouldn’t have happened to our friend, your dear Grandfather.  Luther Eichel has betrayed our dearest friend.’

‘But why?’ asked
Til Drezner.

Klaus looked at the face of each man, studying their expressions.  Hugo took a letter from his pocket and stretched out the crinkled paper before him.

Mr Luther
Eichel,

On behalf of the German military I would like to personally thank you for your assistance.

Sincerely,

Gestapo Major

Heinrich Anaheim.

Carsten
was the first to speak.

‘That bastard, did anyone know about his appointment.’

‘I heard things but I thought they were just rumours.’

‘Why would he send this to Luther?  It could easily incriminate Anaheim if someone were to stumble across it.’

‘It’s a jibe,’ spat Howard, ‘a reminder of Luther’s betrayal.’

Klaus looked at Hugo’s face. 

‘This is why I gathered you all here.  Something has to be done.’

‘You should at least tell the boy who Anaheim is,’ said
Carsten.

‘He served with us in the war,’ muttered
Til.  Spite stained his words.

‘Klaus,’ said Hugo, ‘did you ever hear the story of the Lorenz twins?’

He shook his head.

‘Axel and August Lorenz were in our battalion while we were stationed in France.  They were well liked.  One day the twins breached the trench walls and began their advance on the enemy.  A quarter of a mile or so in, they were apprehended by a tank.  They knew they couldn’t let it simply roll towards their brothers so they attempted to sabotage it.  Unfortunately they were separated and Axel was left alone in the wastelands, taking shelter behind a bullet drenched barricade.  August remained on the tank as he fought with the enemy officer until he finally prevailed.’

Taking in a deep breath, Hugo began to pace across the maroon red carpet that lay beneath his slippers.

‘August left the tank behind him and set off in search for his brother when he was shot down by a sniper hiding in the distance.  He was dragged back to the camp and taken to the treatment room, where I dressed him, alongside your Grandfather.’

Klaus tried to picture his face.  For some reason he couldn’t and it unsettled him.

‘Felix headed back towards the frontline with one thing on his mind. 
Rescuing Axel Lorenz.  Two men went over that wall with your Grandfather and one of them is sitting right there.’

Max felt the stares of many and a few raised their glass.

‘The other, was Heinrich Anaheim.  A loner, a soldier who had no interest in sharing his stories or his life with anyone else, he longed for one thing and one thing only.  Power.  And to have power, people must speak your name.  This is where his hatred for your Grandfather began.  You see, Heinrich was shot and wounded whilst trying to retrieve Axel Lorenz.  But he wasn’t doing it for the greater good.  He was seeking the story of his success, a reason for the people to speak of his name.  Felix tried to save him and risked his life doing so.  But there was a blast, an explosion that shook the very world he knew and he believed that Heinrich was dead.  It turned out he wasn’t and when he arrived home from the war, all he heard was of how Felix Kalb had saved the Lorenz boy.’

Carsten
nodded and so did Howard.

‘It’s true.  It was no secret that he resented Felix, all of us for that matter.’

‘So what’s this got to do with Luther, I mean why choose him?’ Til muttered.

‘Maybe they saw him as the weakest, Anaheim knew him,
he knew his wife and children.’

‘I went to his house tonight.’

The whole room went silent and all eyes fixed to Klaus.

Hugo consulted the others with a worried glance before padding over to Klaus and leaning in so that only he could hear.

‘Klaus, you didn’t do anything...’

‘No,’ Klaus said, ‘we just talked.  They lured my Grandfather in by making him think he was helping prevent the rise of the Nazi’s.’

Hugo rubbed the stubble under his nose.

‘So what’s the plan?’ Howard boomed.

‘That’s why we’re all here.’

‘I have a plan,’ Klaus said.  ‘But I’ll need your help, all of you.’

THE DISTRACTION

There was a short, four palm clap and Tobias turned his head away from the fresh Paris view. 

‘Bravo, squire.’

He felt the voice on his neck but knew it wasn’t near. 

‘Quite the show.’

‘You took your time didn’t you?’

‘Revenge is a busy business.’

‘I take it you found him?’

‘Yes, but its complicated.  I take it you have found a suitable distraction?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, then.’

‘Then we are set to go.’

‘That all depends.’

‘On?’

‘Are you ready?’

‘What kind of a question is that?’

The seated shadow rose and walked across the room, his silhouette danced over the walls.  The broken metal and plastic of the radio transmitter crackled under his boots. 

‘Where is your disguise?’

‘Not now.’

‘What is your name?’

Tobias seethed through the grits of his teeth.

‘What is your name?’

‘My name is Captain Niklaus Linder.’

‘And where is your disguise, Captain Linder?’

‘I am inside my hotel room, on the fourteenth floor.’

‘You are standing in front of Paris with the wind blowing against your very own skin, brother.  You are not who you say you are, not tonight anyway.’

Tobias watched his guest step out onto the balcony and released a weak laugh. 

‘It’s nearly over,’ said the visitor, ‘now come on, come down and get dressed.’

Tobias lowered himself from the cold pinch of the railings and followed the mysterious visitor past the flustering curtain shades and into the room.  He pulled away his shirt and padded barefoot to an armchair where a fresh bundle hung over one of the arms.  His visitor began to pour himself a drink and offered a glass to Tobias as he passed but he refused with a shake of his head.

‘You won’t need that, not where we’re going.’

The guest shrugged and swigged back the brown fluid, wincing at the hot taste.  Once Tobias had tightened a neat knot over his shoes he adjusted his tie in the mirror and wiped away the gathering beads of perspiration.  His back was burning with anxiousness. 

Tobias swiped at the curls of his falling hair and set the phony moustache over his upper lip while his guest studied the jagged crystal glass sitting within his shaking clasp.  The reflection was imperfect and sparkled within his glaring stare. 

Tobias walked over to him and took the glass from his gloved fingertips.

‘Lead the way, Lieutenant Jung.’

The Rolls Royce came to a halt outside a small tavern in the back streets.  La
Maison Noire.  They stepped inside, greeted by the sighing huff of a bartender.  He looked fed up, tired and agonised.  And it soon became apparent why.  A chorus of high pitched squeals and cheers boomed in the far corner of the bar.  Klaus followed Tobias into a booth just beyond the reach of their echoing jubilance. 

‘That’s them?’

‘Yes.  The closest I could find.’

Klaus gave his friend a concerned glance.  There were four of them, each one immersed within a drunken stupor.  They fell about the table, exchanging stories of girls and random drunkenness that had led to wild adventures. 

‘Here!’ one of them called, raising an empty glass up into the air.  The bartender hissed under his bated breath and collected the froth cased glasses before returning with fresh beers, full to the brim.  Apart from the two parties, the bar was vacant.  Opportunity was ripe.  After two more rounds the soldiers got to their feet and stumbled towards the doorway.  Klaus and Tobias gave each other a quick look of understanding and followed them out.  They split up, taking to different dark corners.  One soldier stopped and put his palm up against the wall as he chucked up the night’s drink.  When he wiped his mouth and began to stumble on once more, a fist cracked against his neck and he was smothered in a tight lock before passing out.  The remaining three staggered on, turning every so often to spout out a series of gibberish they themselves couldn’t understand.  The headlamps of a truck appeared further on down the street.  Tobias held his breath as a short chain of grunts neared the edge of a sharply bricked wall and he let the soldier pass before grappling him from behind.  He dragged the limp body into the alleyway and moved on towards the third. 

‘
Psst.’ The officer turned and was met by a sharp punch to the gut and then another to the nose.  His legs crumbled and Klaus caught him as he fell.  Private Vogel turned and stared into the gloomy emptiness of the road. 

Magnus?

Van
Junger?

Wilpert
?

No answer, just a sudden rush of careful footsteps that came with such speed and ended in a silent takedown and a bust lip.  The last officer clattered to the ground and Tobias signalled for the waiting truck, dabbing his blood speckled knuckles against his trouser leg.  Klaus climbed into the cabin and greeted
Til Drezner with a pat on the shoulder.  The tail gate came down and Til climbed away from the cab and helped Tobias haul the Aryan Quattro into the back.  The distraction had been acquired.

They pulled in at a small compound of garages and led the prisoners to a lot just beyond a stretch of silver fencing.  It was a rural and quiet estate, bridged within a curious breach of stacked housing.  Til went ahead and unlocked the door of a small lockup while Klaus and Tobias began introducing each befuddled prisoner into the cold night air.  One by one they were shuffled quickly into the lot and Til closed the door behind them.  The room was small and dingy and cobwebs of damp and mould clung to the walls.  There was a faint drip but Klaus couldn’t locate it as he circled the floor.  Five chairs sat at the centre, simple wooden structures but sturdy enough for the seating of four intoxicated Aryans.  With a quick shove, Til forced the first to sit and removed his hood while the others were guarded by Tobias and Klaus.  His swollen eyes darted around the room. 

‘Where am I?’ He sniffled.

‘No talking,’ Til said with a spiteful tongue.  He grabbed a piece of cloth and clumped it into a tight ball before stuffing it into the captive’s mouth.  The hood came after with a snappy tug and Til moved onto the next prisoner, clasping at the man’s face and dragging him over to the second chair. 

‘Sit.’

The boy began to seethe and growl into the mask but his curses were cut short by a strong back hand.   

‘Enough.  I said no talking.’

Another curse echoed throughout the room.  Til shot Klaus a look to which he nodded gingerly.  Another fist belted across the prisoner’s face and the boy yelped.  Tobias winced and began to stride beside the skirting board, his chin almost touching his chest.  The mask was removed and Til looked down at a beaten and bruised face.  Spots of blood dashed at the pale blue floor.  Til prepared another bundle of rag and reached for the boy’s bloodied face when the captive chortled a sort of laugh that ignited a lengthy cough.

‘You’ll hang for this,’ he said finally, ‘every last one of you.’

Til grinned and prised open his mouth before jabbing the cloth inside,

‘You’re probably right.’ 
Til made a point of tightening the boy’s cuffs as he yanked the hood back over his matte of damp yellow hair.  He repeated the process twice more, with the final two being somewhat more behaved.  After mopping the purpling blood off his knuckles Til marched towards his assailants and they agreed to leave.  The lights dulled out and the three of them climbed into the car outside. 

‘Am I the only one who’s going to say it?’

‘What?’

‘There are five chairs in that room and four of them are filled with ignorant pigs.’

Klaus and Til smirked and looked across the seat towards Tobias,

‘It’s the best I could do in such short notice.’

They headed for a hotel that sat on the corner of a busy crossroads.  Even at the early hours the roads of this particular junction bustled with the shrill beep of motorcars and chirpy bike bells.  Vichy.  The hotel doormen welcomed them with a polite nod and they continued through to the lobby where they were seated within the dim confines of a midnight restaurant.  They decided against food, a decision that was heavily swayed by Tobias’ protests, and ordered three straight whiskeys.  A few German uniforms were scattered around the bar, sloping over their stalls as they swept back each drink.  It wasn’t long before the waiter pondered over.  He saw that
Til was fumbling a cigarette and snapped a lighter from his pocket.  Til glared at him with a fiery glower in his eyes and the waiter slithered away amidst the maze of tables, his palm wrapped around the cooling lighter.  It wasn’t long afterwards that a figure stooped over them, his smile hidden behind a shadow of greying stubble.

‘Doctor Brandt, how very nice of you to join us.’
 

Hugo took a seat and glanced over his shoulder before speaking.

‘Is everything alright?’

‘Perfect,’ replied
Til, ‘all is going to plan.  The distraction is set.’

The following morning came around quickly.  Klaus hadn’t slept well and he assumed the same for Tobias, who he could hear rattling around in the room next door for most of the night.  While it was still dark Klaus headed to Hugo’s room and knocked gently against the door. 

‘Morning,’ he said as he entered. 

Hugo greeted him in a bath robe and striped pyjamas, his face worn and dreary.  They sat and spoke in quiet whispers.

‘Do you still think about him?’

‘Every day,’ said Hugo.

‘I can’t remember his voice,’ Klaus said.

‘Well you have to think of something he said to you, a conversation you once had, the place you were.’

Klaus pondered for a little while and then smiled tiredly.

‘Nothing.’

Hugo could tell he was being dismissive and chose not to persist. 

‘Isn’t this the part where you try and convince me that I don’t have to do this, that I can always walk away, anytime?’

‘I’m not going to say that, Klaus,’ Hugo said, ‘we’ve all made a commitment.  It’s only right that we help you see this through, Anaheim needs to answer for what he did to us.’

Klaus nodded.

‘But in the essence of typical cliché, are you having doubts?’

‘None,’ he said bitterly. 

‘Good,’ said Hugo, ‘the call will go out in two hours.  Our man in the headquarters has confirmed it.’

They sat, watching the vacant city. 

‘Tell me, how many drinks had Tobias had when you found him?’

Klaus wasn’t sure how to answer.

‘He’ll be fine.’

‘Let’s hope so.’

Hugo checked his watch. 

‘Come on, it’s time.  You’ve got five Frenchmen to convince.’

THE OLD SWITCHEROO

Tobias dabbed his cigarette into the side of the cab and tossed the butt out into the rain.  His eyes fixed to the two shadowy figures standing across the yard.

‘I’ll need two trucks, private.’

Hugo waited as the guard fetched a bundle of keys and then headed for the lot across the way.  After snapping the cab door open he hopped into the closest truck and swerved it through the mesh gates, pulling up just beside Tobias.  With a quick nod he stepped down and headed for the one remaining truck, leaving Tobias to turn off the engine of the Rolls and jump into the stalling cabin Hugo had just left absent.  They stopped on a side street just two or three minutes up the road.  The window shuddered down and Hugo poked his head through the frame.

‘I’ll head back to the lockup, go to the old man’s store, we’ll pick the first one up there.’

Tobias cranked at the gear lever and sped off towards Mr Morel’s furniture store.  Meanwhile, Hugo pulled in at the stacked row of garages, finding two black cards parked out front.  The room hummed with the sniffles and hushed curses of four young men.

‘We’re all set,’ Hugo said as
Til welcomed him.

‘Good.’

While Til loaded the captives into the back of the truck Hugo set out a thick dust sheet and lay a tower of tools and thin paper instructions over its wide birth.  Then he followed the last trembling prisoner out into the frozen air.

‘What on earth is that?’

Til grinned.

‘You didn’t see when you were inside?’

‘Nein,’ Hugo sniggered, ‘you never know.  It may come in handy.  Cover it up with that tarp.’

They headed for the town.  Only to find Tobias waiting at the edge of the street, his face drenched in a cold flush of panic.  He flagged them down from behind the windscreen and they pulled up beside him.

‘Something’s gone wrong,’ he hissed, ‘they’re in there now, talking to the De
Lorme boy.’

Hugo leaned forwards and squinted at the burning red brake lights of a truck up ahead. 

‘Well how the hell did they know?’