Stile Maus (37 page)

‘Very little.  Our man here believes that the
stallers
have resurfaced from the dead and are now taunting our men in the lobby of the grand hotel.’

An employee of the hotel was sat at the curb side with an officer stood over him.  He looked scared and his face was marred in thick clumps of ash.

Hermann smiled unconvincingly and let Von Maier hand him a cigarette.  And then something pricked at his ears, the short, scratchy cries of a young baby.  He glanced over the bobbing helmets that scaled the roads and saw that a woman was being comforted by an officer.  She cradled a baby within her trembling arms. 

‘Interesting,’ he muttered. 

They approached the hotel and Von Maier watched his colleague with a smile, waiting for him to pick up on the obvious sign that something wasn’t entirely as it seemed.  It didn’t take long.

‘Roderick,’ he said, looking around quickly to make sure he wasn’t going to embarrass himself, ‘why is there an SS officer standing over there, by the wall?’

Von Maier smirked, plugging the cigarette away from his lips.

‘That’s exactly what I said.’

‘Have you questioned him?’

Throwing down the stubby butt of the cigarette Von Maier held opened up his palms and welcomed the rain.

‘Why do you think I called for you?’

Hot blushes of black smoke had begun to seep through the entrance doors, barely visible as it rose toward the night time sky.  The SS soldier crouched at the curb while a medic touched at his bloody face.  Colonel Hermann intruded with great impatience. 

‘Why are you here,
soldier?’

The soldier merely stared up at him, his eyes squinted in suspicion.

‘I asked you a question,’ Hermann repeated in a softer tone.

‘We are at war, Sir.  What better reason is there?’

Colonel Hermann gestured for the medic to leave and stooped down, staring at the yellow haired officer with deep distrust.

‘Tell me why you are here, and be quick, you wouldn’t want to be the reason more men die in there would you.’

The soldier touched beneath his bruised eyes and nodded sheepishly.

‘We arrived just this evening, with Major Anaheim.’

Colonel Hermann stared at him as if he had entered some sort of trance.

‘Major Anaheim is here? 
In that very hotel?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘On what business?’

‘We weren’t told.’

Colonel Hermann believed him and rose, stroking his chin.

‘Where are the rest of your company?’

‘Dead.’

This agitated Hermann and he stared up at the towering hotel, with a look of sheer malice.

‘There’s something else,’ the soldier murmured.

‘I’m listening.’

‘The Frenchmen, there in there, there’s no doubt about that.  But there are others.  There are Germans.’

With a sour grimace Hermann scratched irritably at his chin and grappled with the flow of thoughts running through his mind. 

‘What did you say your name was, soldier?’

‘
Drezner Sir, my name is Til Drezner.’

It was called in to every barracks.  The message relayed time after time. 
A coup is being staged at the grand hotel, central Paris.
There were hundreds of patrolling units, rolling to a stop just beyond the puddle drowned shadows of the hotel.  Von Maier stood beside the Colonel and ordered troops to move into position at the entrance, Til Drezner among them. 

‘Your man is going back in?’

‘Can’t question his loyalty can you.  Some son of a bitch in there wiped out his entire squadron.’

Von Maier plucked another cigarette out from his inside pocket and waved his arms, summoning the services of a sea-green Panzer that suddenly began trundling across the rain swept streets.

‘Gentlemen if you would be so kind.’

The formation of gathering soldiers stepped away from the entrance while the tank’s giant snout took aim.

‘Open fire!’

The loud crump shook the streets, rippling the vast scatter of shallow puddles to the point where they jolted away from the grooves in which they lay.  The entrance wall fell and crumbled down in a sort of broken stairwell fashion.  The tank grunted and whirred as it trailed slowly towards the musky haze and clunked up the crumbling slope before vanishing entirely.  The troops followed it inside, eager to join the action.  Von Maier noticed that the Colonel had left his side.

‘Where are you going?’ he called through cupped hands.

‘To take down the
stallers and their accomplices, you’re welcome to join me, Roderick!’

Von Maier shook his head and smiled,

‘You haven’t changed!  Stay safe, my friend.’

Til kicked weakly at a heap of rubble and nudged the nose of his rifle into the ashy aftermath.  Where were they?  He watched on as three soldiers passed him, muttering something about the fugitives being ghouls who have risen only to taunt the Nazi’s.  He shook his head and continued his search.  He didn’t want to rush but then he couldn’t allow any other guard to catch them.  The tank sat, purring beside a blown chute which was once the elevator shaft.  The foyer was measureless and a considerable amount of damage had been dealt.  Cracks licked at the walls.  Grades of marble and stone plagued the floor.  The main pillars stood tall though were tormented in bullet holes and jagged tears as a result of the explosions.  Til rounded a sculpture that had fallen from the ceiling and squatted, casting a gaze over the sheer volume of shattered brick and rock.  It was at that moment he saw him.  He offered a quick nod and the Frenchman agreed and scooped at dash of pebbles and thrust them across the lobby.  He then got to his feet and turned away from Til who had now taken aim.

‘There!!’

Til shot just below the boys elbow and his target fell to the ground instantaneously.  He made sure he was first over to him and yelled,

‘This one’s dead.’  Before any other soldier could get close he dragged Jacques across the floor where he propped him up against the wall.  He pretended to search him and forced a quiet whisper into the boy’s ear.

‘Where?’

‘By the reception,’ Jacques murmured, ‘I can’t be sure about the German.’

‘We’re heading upstairs,’ said a voice from behind them, ‘are you coming?’

Til
glanced up at the staircase and found it riddled with advancing guards.

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, standing and letting the soldier lead the way.  He peered at the landing and waited for the last guard to step out of sight.  With a quick grasp
Til grabbed the soldier from behind and jabbed a fist into his ribs before choking him into a submission that rendered him unconscious. 

‘Go and get your friend and head for the alleyway,’
Til ordered, ‘join the others.’

‘What will you do?’

Til glanced at the stairwell.

‘I need to make sure that everything went smoothly upstairs.’

Jacques patted him on the shoulder and ran over to Patrice.  He was still dazed and Jacques helped him to his feet before they both hobbled away from the foyer and towards the kitchen.    

‘Toby,’
Til hissed, ‘where are you?’

‘Who’s Toby?’

Til sprung toward the shadow standing behind him and smiled calmly. 

‘Colonel Hermann.  You startled me, Sir.’

‘One of your fallen allies, I take it?’

‘Excuse me, Sir?’

‘Toby.  Officer, Drezner.’

Til
sunk his desperate glare into the pits of stone and brick and took in a deep breath.

‘Where are they, the rest of you?’

‘I don’t know what...’

‘Please do not play games.  Where are they and why are they here?  What do you want with this hotel?’

Til grinned.

‘You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.’

Colonel Hermann peeled a pistol away from his belt and aimed it at the man standing before him.

‘My words will only be lies, Colonel.  You know this.’

‘Remove the band from around your arm.  You do not deserve to wear it, scum.’

He pulled it away from his sleeve and over his knuckles and then placed it against the marble floor. 
Til stared at its red, white and black fabric.  Then he spat over it, grinning as it bubbled at the Colonel’s boots.  Before the Colonel could raise his pistol to Til’s throat a scuffle sounded, not six feet away.  He didn’t move but glanced toward a heap of cascading rubble.  A hand lay underneath, the fingers twitching and speckled with dark blood.

‘One of your
friends maybe?’

Colonel Hermann smirked nastily. 

‘Which one to kill first?’ he said as he watched the wrist start to fold away another slab of stone.

‘Just tell me one thing.  Why did you tell me about the Frenchman, outside?  And why mention that German’s are helping them with their coup?’

Til smiled softly.

‘How else was I going to get you to inside the building?’

Hermann looked mystified and reared his head toward the wheezing character across the floor. 

‘I’m guessing you’re done talking, let’s see...’

Til grabbed the pistol and pushed it up into the Colonel’s neck, firing as many bullets as the chamber possessed.  Colonel Hermann fell onto his back and shrunk and curled, clutching at the pouring wound with panic.  Til got to his feet and stood above him, watching as his eyes began to glass over into a sleepy haze.  He wouldn’t put him out of his misery.  He wanted him to struggle with every last breath.  Til raced over to the shifting marble wreckage and began to haul away each serrated piece, finally revealing the beaten face of Tobias Vilsmaier.

‘Jesus, Toby.’

He groaned and produced a tiny spittle of blood as Til lifted him away from the blanket of debris. 

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘in about two minutes this lobby is going to be filled with Nazi’s.’      

Schulze registered another glimpse.  Most of the guards had entered the room by now but a handful began to knock on doors along the corridor.  He gave Klaus the signal and turned the corner, approaching the first couple of guards through the aim of his iron sight.  Inside room 1709, the search continued and it wasn’t long before an officer stooped down and held the Major’s shirt within his hands.

‘Over here.’  The shuffling troops followed the crumbs of clothing into the bedroom.

Ferber woke from his sleepy daze and heard the heavy jingle of someone jogging past.  The chair he was tied to
had been turned away from the doorway and overlooked the balcony where his colleague lay, smothered in sprinkles of broken glass.  He grumbled under the stretch of cloth covering his mouth.  Another hidden stranger passed.  Ferber grappled weakly at the armrest and began to rock against the rise of the seat.  By now, the bedroom and landing was crowded with Anaheim’s private army.     

Schulze crept at the carpet.

‘Come on,’ he mouthed, ‘Come on.’

The hallway lifted and a cloud of black smoke poured out from the room, flooring every Nazi along the strip of carpet who happened to be caught off guard.  Schulze levelled up and picked off the first stunned soldier before firing another lash of bullets into the murky fog.  Klaus covered him from behind, licking rifle shots at the scrambling shadows until the yelping stopped.  The elevator doors pinged behind them
and they backtracked until they were inside.  Schulze punched at the button panel and the doors juddered to a close.  Resting his head against the thin, purple walls Klaus breathed a deep sigh and embraced the descent.  It was nearly over.

The door opened and Gerard stood on the other side.

‘Hurry,’ he said fretfully.

Stefan wheeled the Major onto the ramp of a truck that was parked in the depths of the alleyway and looked on as the tailgate rose, lifting the trolley up until it sat toward the back of the cabin.  Hugo was on hand to heave the frame the rest of the way and strapped the wheels to four hinges on the ground before heading back to the driver’s seat.  Stefan and Michel climbed into the back while Gerard rejoined Hugo and Ludivine in the front.  A set of doors burst open down the way and Jacques could be seen limping along with Patrice under his arm.  They were helped into the truck and Hugo turned at the ignition, staring into the reflection of his wind mirror.

‘Where are the others?’ he whispered loudly.  Jacques came to a small, chequered slit that tarnished the cabin wall and pressed towards it.

‘Til is the last one I saw, I don’t know if the others are dead or alive.’

Hugo slammed his fist down against the steering wheel.   

The doors opened and revealed a quieter section of the lobby.  Klaus and Private Schulze skipped out onto the greying marble and aimed into the wave of mist that was hovering at the far corner of the wide corridor.  There were footsteps in crunched form and a scatter of stone crumbs kicked out past the corner of the wall.  Klaus glanced at Schulze and advanced on the main foyer slowly.  The kitchen sat behind a set of double doors across the room and Klaus watched it from the corner of his eyes.  There was a voice, a vague stutter of German.  Schulze cranked back the trigger and locked onto the sprays of showering smog.  Two uniforms emerged, one being dragged by the other.  Schulze lowered his weapon and began to sprint towards them.