Stile Maus (39 page)

‘Hitler’s signature.’

There was a hushed whisper of different voices, none of which actually conversed with another but the room bustled with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.   The very mention of the Fuhrer’s name created a tornado of butterflies within each man’s stomach. 

‘It’s his consent for a hidden nest.  As far as I’m aware, only
myself, Anaheim, the Fuhrer and the construction team working on it know its whereabouts.  It really is the perfect place.’

Hugo raised a glass to his mouth and swigged gingerly at a lengthy pour of auburn warmth.

‘Then it is agreed.  Howard will contact the office and set up a meeting.  If there’s a way in which we can infiltrate the nest with one of own, I’ll find it.  Meanwhile, stay hidden, stay silent.’

The screen had worn thin and the once glittering canvas was now empty and without the black and white commotion that Klaus had remembered.  There were no onlookers, no couples talking long into the night.  A sigh took his breath and he found himself pondering time and what it seized away.

‘So what will you do when you catch him?’

Klaus enjoyed the softness of her voice and chose not to reply, hoping she would repeat the question.

‘Klaus?’

He smiled tentatively and met her gaze.

‘I don’t know.  I guess I haven’t thought about that.’

He was lying and she could tell.

‘I wouldn’t judge you Klaus...’

She looked to say something else but caught his cool blue eyes watching her and she smiled. 

‘What is it?’

‘I almost forgot how beautiful you were.’

They kissed under the pale moonlight. 

‘I remember the night you came to me, scared and cold with blood and rain.  That night still haunts me.’

She ran a trail of fingers across his face and admired the dash of scars that crept at his cheeks and neck.  Klaus did not shy away although he wanted to.  A grumble of thunder sounded overhead. 

Some three months later Hugo called everyone to a tavern and waited for Howard’s belated arrival before beginning.  They spoke freely behind frothy pints and through the smoke of casual cigars. 

‘It appears things have moved quicker than we first anticipated.’

They sat within the dark corners of a quiet room towards the back and filled two tables.

‘Tobias left for Paris last night.  His facade begins immediately.  Now, if all goes to plan, Tobias will lure Anaheim to the hotel in which he is staying four weeks from now.  Here we will capture him and take out any units that tagged along for the ride.’

Howard sprinkled a heap of smoky powder into an ash tray and cleared his throat with a grunt.

‘For days myself and Hugo could not think of a way in which we could get the Major out from his hotel room and down into the lobby, past his guards and then out into the alley where a truck will be waiting.’

Klaus set down his beer.

‘But then we thought of this.’

A large stretch of paper was thrust between the tables and those sat around it leaned in curiously.

‘It’s a chair...’

Hugo scoffed at his beer and wiped away his smile.

‘It’s a special kind of chair.  Bordered in a brass frame, locked down at the base of the trolley, disguised as a bellhop’s luggage cart.  With a sheet hooked to these four hinges anything beneath the cover will be entirely hidden.’

‘So have you found someone to build it?  It would have to be someone trustworthy, someone who wouldn’t threaten...’

‘We have someone in mind.’

Hugo shot Howard a glance.

‘What?’

Klaus caught them out.

‘A Frenchman named Stefan De Lorme.’

‘And does this Frenchman live in Germany?’

‘No,’ Howard spat, ‘he lives in Paris.’

‘An outsider, you want an outsider, a carpenter might I add, to build possibly the most important device in this operation and wheel it into a hotel packed to the brim with Nazi’s?  He’ll need an army behind him.  He won’t make it through the doors.’

‘Funny you should say that.’

Howard scooped at his glass and grinned.

‘Stefan De Lorme happens to belong to a pretty prestigious French resistance group.’

‘So he’ll jump at the chance of helping us.’

‘Of course.’

‘So how do you know all of this?’

‘Til has been staying in Paris for a few weeks, he’ll remain out there until we join him.’

‘You mentioned that this De
Lorme character is part of some group, what about the rest of them?  Are they chair makers too?’

‘No, but they will feature in our plans, heavily.’

‘And if they refuse?’

‘They won’t.  Soon enough we won’t be the only ones who know the true identity of these makeshift mercenaries.  Once the Nazi’s find out
who they are they’ll issue an arrest.  We can offer them and their families a way out.’ 

Hugo leaned onto the table.

‘Tobias will be staying in the ‘La Grande’, a hotel at the centre of Paris.  That’s where Anaheim will go.  With the help of these
stallers
we’ll be able to get one of them into a bellhop uniform and up to the floor where Anaheim is staying.  Provided Kevin travels with him, he will assist Klaus in restraining the Major and they will supply sufficient cover to the man who pushes the chair.’

‘So what happens after that?’

‘We load our good friend, the Major into a truck and take him to the airstrip where two of us will wait with a carrier.  Then its over the hills and into the abyss.’

Hugo wet his dry words with a cool sip of beer.

‘Any questions?’

THE HANGAR

The phantom screeched to a halt.  Til leapt out and swung around to the passenger side door, clipping it open with hurried fingers.  He took Tobias by the under seam of his jacket and pulled his lifeless body out onto the concrete ground.  The truck pulled in behind them and through the misty pale blue glow of the headlamps Hugo could make out the glare of panic that had set over Til Drezner’s face. 

‘Something’s wrong, he’s not breathing.’

Stefan and Jacques clapped down onto the concrete.

‘What happened?’ spat Hugo, ‘the explosives in the lift were supposed to deal with Anaheim’s guards in the lobby.’

‘You heard them go off,’ Stefan retorted stubbornly.

‘The guards were in the lobby when we got there,’ said Jacques, ‘for whatever reason they weren’t inside that shaft when the bombs went off.’ 

Hugo seethed and placed the back of his hand over Tobias’ forehead.  The tailgate dropped and Michel hopped down onto the ground first so that Klaus and Schulze could carefully pass down the brass frame that held Heinrich Anaheim.  Howard had made his way over and stooped down at Tobias’ limp body, his face red with fury.     

‘Who let this happen?’ he bellowed, ‘who is responsible for this?’

Hugo grabbed his arm, smudging a batch of Tobias’ blood against Howard’s jacket.

‘Now is not the time, need to get him out of here.’

Howard brushed a hand over Tobias’ shoulder and looked towards the aircraft.

‘There should be a stretcher in the tail section.’

Hugo nodded and got to his feet.

‘Cover the entrance and get Anaheim into the interceptor, we won’t have long.’

The cart rattled across the hangar as Schulze and Klaus pushed it toward the plane.  The sheet flustered at the base, revealing the neatly polished shoes that Anaheim was wearing.  With a short bump the trolley mounted the ramp at the tail and they heaved it into the chamber.  Through a short and narrow passageway sat a dimly lit room, cast in a shadow of glimmering green.  A beacon spun at the wall, it’s blink easily misleading.  With a quick snap Schulze began to clip the chair into place, locking each leg to a chain that stemmed from the steel floor.  Hugo appeared at the foot of the corridor and began rummaging through a stack of netted coves until his blood stained hands met the cold spindles of a stretcher.  He took it to the hangar and eased Tobias onto its navy slide with the help of Howard. 

‘Start that thing up!’ Howard boomed.  The propeller cranked and began to spin at a tremendous speed.  Klaus watched as they loaded the stretcher into the tail and then stepped out into the cold mist hovering around the hangar.  Stefan came to his side.

‘It appears our deal has come to an end.’

Stefan nodded and stared toward the locker opening.

‘You have your man, now where are my family?’

Klaus pried open his breast pocket and handed Stefan a note. 

‘This is the address of an abandoned barn just outside of Paris.  If you go now you can make it before the sun starts to show over the hills.  Your family are there, your friend’s family too.  They’re all safe, all well.’

Stefan checked the note and ran a hand over his cheek.  He winced.

‘You’re hurt?’ said Klaus.

Stefan glanced down at his stomach and saw that the wound had spread across his shirt.

‘I’m fine,’ Stefan replied bluntly. 

‘I can ask Hugo to give you a look over.’

‘No,’ Stefan persisted with a gentle smile, ‘thank you, for this.’  He held up the note and tucked it into the seams of his leather jacket. 

‘Take the two cars,’ Klaus said, pointing at the Jaguar and Mercedes that sat across the hangar.

‘Should you come across any blockades, do not stop.  Find another way around.  Once you arrive at the barn park your vehicles inside and stay put.  With any luck the war will be over before you are discovered.’

Stefan stretched out his hand and Klaus shook it.

‘Take care now.’

A silent nod was traded and Stefan turned and walked away.  Taking one last look at the cold blue hangar Klaus boarded the interceptor.    

‘So what’s going on?’

Stefan patted Michel on the shoulder and smiled.

‘We’re leaving.’

Patrice was now standing and massaging the temples beside his purple eyelids.  Jacques had already climbed into the Mercedes and had clipped on the ashen blue headlamps.  His fingers drummed restlessly against the steering wheel and he checked his mirror as Gerard opened the passenger door of the Jaguar for Ludivine.  After she had climbed inside and settled against the crimson leather seating Gerard signalled to Michel and Stefan who stood at the entrance of the chamber and bellowed,

‘Come on, we need to....’

A rattle sounded and a spray of sparks clinked away from the darkness.  Beyond the entrance, the cool swish of churning tyres could be heard and Stefan and Michel ducked behind the military truck Hugo had parked by a loading bay. 

‘Bastards,’ spat Michel, ‘how many do you think are out there?’

Stefan shrugged and yanked a pistol away from his belt.  The machine gun quivered within his grasp and he feared that it would soon fall with his arm weak with pain. 

By now,
Til had veered the Phantom into the back of the plane and joined the others at the door of the cockpit.

‘There’s someone out there,’
Carsten yelled over the deafness of his headphones.  Howard pushed to the front of the gathering onlookers and peered into the gloom that hovered in the distance.  He caught a glimpse of another yellow and orange sparkle and slumped a heavy hand onto Carsten’s shoulder.

‘Run them down if you must,’ he raged, ‘just get us into the skies.’  His concern for Tobias was obvious. 
Carsten nodded and began flicking at the control panel until a yellow smudge started to blink.  His hands met the acceleration lever and with a gentle nudge the interceptor began to creak forwards.

Another cluster of bullets rippled into the truck and Stefan ducked down.  Michel swept to the back of the truck and began firing into the darkness.  It was more of an attempt to see how many soldiers they were dealing with which proved ineffective.  The gloom was made of the purest black and apart from the towering watch tower lights and scarce crackles of gunfire, nothing could be seen.  The nose of the plane breached the hangar.  At first the curved shell remained untarnished, almost as though the soldiers waiting outside were unsure whether to fire upon
it’s bulking grey frame.  It didn’t last.  Carsten pushed back into his seat as the fist barrage started clinking across the windscreen.  Howard eased into the seat beside him and Klaus and Schulze sought after the chamber where they had contained the Major.  With a sudden, sharp snap at the tiller Carsten pulled the aircraft to one side and headed for the runway.  Seeing that the interceptor now covered most of the entrance, Stefan leapt up and signalled for Gerard and Jacques to collect them.  The Jaguar arrived at their side first and Stefan climbed in while Michel scrambled around the silver chassis of the Mercedes before disappearing under the hooded frame.  Gerard veered to the left as did Jacques and the cars took to the smooth road leading away from the airfield.  Stefan scrolled down the window and aimed his pistol out into the mist they had left behind.  Shadows tumbled within the silky smog and they disappeared into the cabins of the stalling trucks.  The glowing red light of the interceptor took to the runway and he watched it with a breeze agitated glare as it began to rise into the night sky.  A gathering of headlamps broke through the darkness and Stefan fired a few warning shots, hoping that a bullet might blow out a travelling tyre.