Stile Maus (38 page)

‘Is he shot?’

He said, getting under Tobias’ arm and helping
Til carry him towards Klaus who had gone ahead and held open the doors that led toward the kitchen. 

‘I don’t think so,’
Til muttered, ‘he was under a coat of rubble, he’s barely awake.’

They passed through the steam filled kitchen.  Cooks and waiters stood by, staring at them as three
were led by the one with the scarred face.  Klaus kicked his way into the alleyway and noticed the dim glow of the truck up ahead.  The cool blue tint of the Rolls was parked beside it.  The brake lights juddered at the hum of the engine.  Hugo saw them coming up from the back and cranked the truck into gear.

‘Help them, quickly!’

Gerard unclipped the tailgate but Til advised him that he and Tobias would be following in the Rolls Royce.  He found the keys in the ignition and flicked at the headlamps.  Klaus and Schulze leaped into the back of the cabin and they took off.  Til checked the mirror and caught a band of shadows spill out into the alley.  It wasn’t going to be a smooth ride.  The roads were clear and Hugo made for the airstrip with urgent haste, the gleaming Rolls lashing along behind it.  Not long after breaking past the city border they were joined by two speedy trucks.  Rifle fire clattered against the side of Hugo’s cabin and he veered a sharp turn onto a dirt road while Til continued straight.  The trucks divided and sought after the escapists. 

‘Stay low,’ Hugo demanded as they breached a shallow ditch and connected with the road once more. 

‘We need to get rid of them,’ Gerard cried, ‘Now!’

Hugo took his eyes of the light swamped road ahead and nodded. 

‘Do it.’

Fetching up a rifle from beside the two seats Gerard wound down the window and took aim at the back tyre of the truck up ahead.  His first shot clunked off the chassis and he scowled before reloading. 
Ludivine pushed into her seat, her lips trembling with fear. 

‘What’s going on out there?’

Schulze called. 

Another shot fired, this time pinging off the road.  A figure emerged from the cabin behind and unleashed a sparkle of machine gun fire and it caught the side mirror, sending it crashing down to the slippery road below.  Gerard shied away from the window and reloaded before turning into the wind and firing at the windscreen of the pursuing blaze of white headlamps.  The glass went through and the truck swerved sharply and screeched onto its side before grumbling off the road and into a rain swamped ditch. 
Til stamped at the pedals and launched the Phantom over a shallow knoll that studded the road.  The truck that chased them lagged behind but wasn’t out of sight.  Til scowled as the back tyres slid out as he turned a corner.  The Rolls couldn’t reach full power on such a slippery surface.  He flicked at the mirror and glanced at Tobias who lay against the back seat, his eyes flustering as if they were just about to open.

‘Stay with me Toby, for Christ’s sake stay with me!’ 

With the rifle pegged between his gloved grasp Gerard lashed a shot at the tyres of the truck at the forefront and watched as the rubber ripped away from its spiralling cap.  The truck fell onto its uneven spindle and orange and yellow sparks began to flick up into the glow of Hugo’s headlamps.  The tarp covering the back cabin tore away and a handful of guards gripped the tailgate, struggling to stay on their quaking boots.  Gerard leaned through the window once more and picked them off until they all clattered down onto the damp road.  Hugo steered past the truck as it finally gave out and continued along the countryside strip.  Through the dark he could see the Phantom’s glare in the darkness.  Beyond the dots of dazzling red a duller, whiter light towered in the distance.  The airstrip.  They met Til at the entrance and followed him to a hangar at the bottom of a well lit trail.  An interceptor jet sat at the back of the chamber and two cars were parked up alongside it.  A figure slid away from the bonnet of an olive Jaguar E-type and watched the swarm of headlamps swerve into the hollowed hangar.  A machine gun lay in his grasp and he moved towards the halting vehicles with caution.  Another shadow climbed down from the interceptor. 

‘It’s alright, Howard,’ said
Carsten Lazatto, ‘it’s them.’

FRONT ROW SEATS AT THE ORCHESTRA

The cab pulled up and Klaus offered the driver a small tip before heading out into the rain.  He skipped up the veranda towards the porch and knocked gently against the door.  His fingers toyed with the small rubber ball lost within his trench coat pocket.  Old habits, he thought.  She appeared at the doorway, her eyes alight with a brightness that burnt from some kind of lamp within the hallway.

‘Hello,’ Klaus said.

Elsie lunged forwards and hugged him tightly.  He let his duffel bag fall onto the porch and squeezed her with a gentle lift.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she simpered, ‘how long has it been?’

‘Too long,’ Klaus smiled, touching at her cheek and kissing her lips. 

‘Come in,’ she said kindly, ‘Father’s waiting for you in his study.’

‘So, do you have any idea why your Father has asked me to return so close to the invasion?’

‘No, but others are here.’

They came to the study and Elsie touched gently at the back of his trench coat,

‘Come and see me before you leave.’

He nodded and smiled and watched her pass onto the landing above.  Her beauty had never left his mind’s eye.  The door in front of him opened under his tender twist and the muffled conversation came to an abrupt halt as he entered. 

‘My, my,’ said Hugo, ‘our very own
Oberstleutnant.’ 

Klaus shook his hand firmly and turned his attention to a large man who filled an armchair to his left.

‘Howard, how good to see you.’

‘And you my boy,’ Howard chuckled, ‘how
was your flight in?’

‘Bumpier than usual,’ Klaus joked before heading toward
Til Drezner.

‘Mr
Drezner, Mr Luzzatto.’  The pair greeted him warm smiles.  Klaus unbuttoned his jacket and folded it over a chair before settling within its deep rest. 

‘There have been a few developments,’ Hugo was the one who broke the silence. 

Klaus sat, intrigued. 

‘Our man at the headquarters says its time.  The Major has just revealed his plans for an operation that puts us in an excellent position.’ 

‘Can the information be trusted?’

‘We’re talking about Max’s son here, Klaus.’

‘I don’t doubt Kevin.  My worries lie with him.  Anaheim.’

‘This information is gold.  Word is Anaheim is playing this one close to his chest.  The only people who know are those who are involved.’

‘So how do we play this,’ Klaus asked.

‘Kevin will arrive soon with the details but we understand from what he’s told us already that the operation is aimed directly at the German military.’

Klaus became engaged and shifted within his seat.

‘Your little visit to the German ball last week appears to have paid off.  Milo Haas is dead and the Major wants answers.’

There was a knock at the door.

‘Mr Kevin Schulze,’ Hugo said, greeting him with a hug, ‘you’re late.’

‘Apologies Doctor Brandt, getting away from the Gestapo Major’s office for the weekend is a rare task.’

‘I would not have asked if I didn’t think you could pull it off my boy.  Now sit, take a drink.’

He brandished a bundle of finely bound black folders and fondled them onto his lap before taking a glass of beer from Hugo.  After greeting the others with a pleasant dash of smiles and nods Schulze flipped open the top wallet and peeled at the first few pages.

‘Again, my apologies for gathering you gentlemen here tonight but as I’m sure our kind host has already informed you, we are now, how shall I say... in business.’ 

Carsten Lazzatto lit up a cigarette and offered a spare to Til who refused. 

‘Now,’ Schulze continued, ‘the operation is designed to reveal the betrayers and schemers hidden with the Third Reich.’

‘So us?’

‘Precisely.
  There’s only one problem.  Getting into the operation could be near impossible.’

‘For a regular soldier, yes.’

The whole room turned to Howard Goetsh. 

‘You have someone in mind, Howard?’

Hugo asked the question that the others had already placed upon their tongues. 

‘Tobias
Vilsmaier.’

‘The movie star?
  Why on earth would he help us?’

‘Because,’ Howard said placidly, ‘there’s something about Toby
Vilsmaier that only I know.  That you can’t hear about in interviews or read about in magazines.’ 

Til
leaned forwards, a deep frown set across his brow. 

‘And what’s that?’

‘He is not German.  He is Swiss.  And his parents were murdered by the Nazi’s.  A Luftwaffe division to be exact.’  He sparked a cigar and let it burn before chugging at its warm birth.

‘Some years ago a German fighter jet was shot down over a mountain close to Geneva.  The pilot’s wandered through the snowstorm for days
until, finally they found a small cabin that had been lost within the blizzard.  A family of husband and wife and their three boys took them in and fed them bowls of hot soup before offering them each a bed for the night.  But the cottage belonged to a man who was wealthy and well known and he had asked the family to stay at the cabin for the winter as a favour to him.  Little did he know that his dear friends would soon be ambushed by the Nazi’s and kept captive as the German soldiers searched the cabin for jewels and priceless treasures.’

Howard pushed himself away from the armchair and lingered at a window overlooking the garden.  The hot spice of his cigar agitated his eyes into a series of soft blinks. 

‘When the soldiers found nothing the superior officer took the family out into the snow and shot them.  He went back inside and waited for the falling snow to bury them.  But one survived with barely a few scratches.  Nothing short of a miracle.  Anyway, the boy knew the land, even through the storm so he headed to a town that sat at the foot of the mountain.  The wealthy man who owned the cabin lived in one of the houses there but he wasn’t home when the young boy arrived at his doorstop.’

Howard sighed and a sting of tears bloomed within his eyes.  Klaus looked on but suspected that the director’s sudden teary stare may have been caused by the wafting cigar smoke.  It would soon become apparent that that wasn’t the case. 

‘But do you know who answered that door?  Do you know who the first one to see that horrified stare was?  Me.’

Hugo had heard the story before and looked over at his friend with cordial empathy. 

‘My Father happened to be one of the greatest script writers in Germany and the cabin up in the hills belonged to him.  I sat the boy down but he wouldn’t talk, not for days.  My Mother and I tried everything but he only just stared, into nothingness.  Finally, after nearly two weeks he came into the kitchen and told us everything.  My Mother burst into tears.’

The room stirred uncomfortably.

‘That is how I know Tobias Vilsmaier will help us, gentlemen.’

Hugo took to the stage.

‘So we have a way in.’

‘I’ll set up a meeting,’ said Howard, ‘Mr Schulze here controls every message going into that office so it shouldn’t be too hard to arrange.’

‘What are you thinking?’

‘A protection scheme of some sort, we say that Toby has been wrongly drafted into the military and would prefer if he sat on the sidelines for the duration of the war.’

‘Somewhere in Europe would be better.’

‘We need to get him noticed first.’

‘I’m telling you,’ assured Schulze, ‘this is our window.  I should have a list by Thursday.  Assuming the other agents are existing members of the Gestapo and SS I’m more than certain the Major will welcome a movie star with open arms.  It would merely be another credible talking point if the operation happened to succeed.’

‘Which it won’t.’

‘Once we have the destination we can start to plan ahead.’

‘There’s just one more thing,’ interrupted Schulze, ‘during my time at Anaheim’s office I have discovered a number of, shall we say, interesting articles.  The most recent; plans for the construction of a secret bunker in the hills of Austria. 
Tyrol to be exact.’

‘What has this got to do with the plan?’

‘I’ve looked over the blueprints.  This could be the perfect place.’

‘To hide a Gestapo official?’

Howard blew a cloud of smoke against the window pane.

‘To bury one.’

Schulze opened the second folder and clipped at the front page, tapping a squiggle of black ink at the bottom.