Stile Maus (41 page)

‘My Grandfather’s, I know…’

Klaus clenched at the bubbled facing and held onto it.  With a sharp spin the truck verged onto a narrow path and descended downwards until a clearing came into view.  It seemed as though they had arrived at a dead end but a small outpost could be seen in the plummeting mist and a guard rose from a stool inside.  His face was shrouded within a fluffy hood and a rifle was clasped between two heavy mittens.  Hugo wound down his window. 

‘Yes?’

‘Maintenance repairs, we were called in by Captain Schulze.’

‘Do you have clearance?’

Hugo fumbled a tag from his side pocket and the guard leaned in, snapping away his snow goggles to take a closer look. 

‘What’s this?’ the guard said, he must have read the ID badge three times over.  A pistol jabbed into his neck and Klaus placed a hand on his snow mounted shoulder.

‘Open it up,’ Klaus hissed.  His voice was merely a whisper, lost within the howling wind.  The watchman nodded carefully before dropping his rifle and gestured a point to the cabin where he had sat moments beforehand. 

‘Slowly,’ said Klaus.  The snow had drenched the white balaclava set over his face and the fabric seeped into his damp skin.  They moved into the cabin.  A communications box hummed within the corner of a small desk and a headset sat beside it.

‘Who else is down there?’

At first the guard resisted but Klaus grabbed at the back of his hood and thrust a fist into his back. 

‘No one,’ he seethed.

‘Not one person?’

‘The construction crews left around a week ago, apart from security there’s no one else here.’

‘Uh huh,’ Klaus pondered, ‘open it up.’

The watchman shrugged off Klaus’ grip and slumped onto the communications desk.  There, he pressed at a black button and the transmitter crackled to life.

‘Control room.’

Klaus waved the Luger and the watchmen bit the frost covering his lips before lowering his face to the radio.

‘I have a maintenance crew out here, over.’

‘Has it been cleared with the Captain?’

‘
Danke.’

‘Proceed to the second gate.’

The guard released his finger from the transmitter and turned to Klaus.

‘You’d better keep that mask on soldier.  You take that off and we’ll come for your family and friends and everyone who knows you.’

A menacing grin crept over the guards lips. 

‘You’ve already taken everything from me,’ Klaus said.  He took aim and sent two bullets into the chest of the guard and watched him fall back onto the desk.  Riddled with shock, the guard glared lifelessly as Klaus clunked over to him and placed the silenced Luger against his withering torso.  He pulled the trigger and felt a
smatter of blood latch against his mask.

Klaus thumped a fist against the side of the truck.  With a slight grunt it began to trundle forwards and Hugo followed the musky lamps pitched on either side of the watch cabin down through a slushy slope of blackened snow.  A fortification of heavy steel doors sat at the bottom of the white knoll and those who perched through the windscreen wondered whether each vaulted block could be unlocked as they were etched with frozen ice and rimmed with winter freeze.  Upon their advance the doors opened with a giant shudder and revealed a deep black tunnel.  Hugo looked across the seat and caught Howard’s grin. 

‘This is it.’

Klaus had remained on foot and left the truck at the slope.  With a quick snap he unzipped his thermal jacket and consulted a map that had been encased within a straight clasp of plastic.  His gloved hands met a snowy bank close to the cabin and he began rummaging hastily through each mound.  The map was concise but the terrain had added on extra foot or two.  He found a hatch an arm’s length down and twisted the handle until it plucked away and released a hot blow
of steam.  Checking that his balaclava was fixed at the bridge of his nose and not intruding his gaze Klaus leapt onto the ladder of rungs below and began his descent.  He landed upon a mesh channel and raised his Luger into the mist filled room.  Hisses of spiralling haze crept all around him as he carefully slinked towards a door toward the end of the strait.  He met the lever with the palm of his gloves and hoisted it upright until the door murmured open.  The boiler room vanished as he closed the door gently behind him.  Klaus studied the corridor and shook his head before pushing his back up against the neatly finished walls.  The flooring was made from stained wood and the molding that fell below the ceiling was of a vibrant, Torino red.  A rug narrowly covered the wooden slates and Klaus began to creep towards the end of the hallway.  He thought about seeking out the route from the blueprints tucked against his chest but decided against it and chose to follow his instinct.  He breached a corner and instantly recoiled, detecting the heavy tread of a patrolling guard.  He had his back turned but he was far from the corner where Klaus hid.  The strap looped around the soldier’s back indicated that he was armed with a machine gun or something bigger.  Nonetheless Klaus didn’t want it going off anytime soon.  The footsteps fell completely silent and then returned sluggishly, advancing with a dawdling march.  He waited.  The toe of the guard’s boot crossed the corner and Klaus swung the silenced Luger into the officer’s chest and began to fire rapidly.  When the guard began to fall back Klaus kicked away his tumbling leg and snapped the butt of the pistol across his cheek.  He checked the first door down the hallway and found a bed chamber where he then dragged the guard inside and slouched him against the inside wall of a clothes packed wardrobe.  The perfect place to conceal his invading footprints.  He went further on down the hallway and turned another corner.  Every decoration seemed to glint within the corner of his eyes.  A polished goblet, a picture frame.  The hum of music came suddenly, seemingly out from nowhere.  He spun to the left and saw a room, the door askew. Using the nose of his Luger Klaus prodded at the crooked doorway and peeked inside.  He smelt the burn of a cigarette and noticed a guard standing by a radio transmission unit.  A pair of thick headphones were perched on his shoulders but he didn’t speak, he just sat, reading silently from a magazine.  The room was a different colour to the hallways and spread wider than Klaus could see.  He stepped inside.  The room opened up and Klaus looked around, making sure that no one else was around.  He prised back the trigger of his smoking Luger.

‘You made it in one piece then.’

Klaus stopped in his tracks and frowned at the man sitting with his back to him for a moment before grinning.  Max turned in his chair and raised the headphones up over his browning hair. 

‘Klaus,’ he said proudly, ‘I can’t believe you’re here.’

The tunnel funnelled off to a smaller, better lit cavity and Hugo applied the brakes as the truck approached another watch cabin.  The blockade gate had already been raised and
Carsten and Hugo and Howard stared into the bullet riddled glass house, their eyes fixed to the lifeless guard inside.  A bump sent them to a higher level and the truck veered the corners smoothly until it reached a walled off inlet, imprinted only with a vaulted door.  The engine faded and they exited the cabin before heading around to the back of the truck.  The cream tarp fell away and Schulze pushed the brass trolley onto the tailgate and pushed it into the open arms of Carsten and Hugo.  Howard had gone ahead and opened the door and now waited by the wall, his fingers planted firmly against the plate of bronzing steel.  The sheet that smothered Major Anaheim had become coated with a spray of bubbling sleet but it soon flustered away with the icy wind as they trundled the cart through the doorway.  The corridor beyond it was narrow and oddly dissimilar to the deceiving steel door.  A long stretch of black and red carpet curled away from the toes of their boots.  The walls were immaculate, painted with the finest shade of eggshell white.  Two stylish pillars sat at the end of the short hallway and rose up to a ceiling dotted with expensive and bright chandeliers.  Beside the columns of sparkled marble dangled two flags, each stitched with the Nazi mark. 

Hugo was the first to step down onto the rug.

‘You’d have to see it to believe it.’

Carsten
couldn’t help but shake his head and release his hands from the brass frame of the luggage cart.  A large picture hung above a coupling of heavy set oak doors, that’s where the carpet ended.  The Fuhrer posed atop an oil canvas. 

‘Come on,’ Howard said as he pushed past.  Schulze heaved at the trolley and Hugo went ahead and pushed open the doors, a swastika print latched to his palm.  An enormous lounge stretched out before them.  A fireplace was tucked away amidst a gigantic cove of marble and a rug made from the fur of a
black bear had been sprawled over the floor.  Schulze left the Major at the door and clapped into the centre of the room, his eyes fixed to a large window that stretched across the entire back wall like a gargantuan fissure.  It looked out onto the mountainside.  The view was something quite remarkable.   

A long bookcase towered above the far wall, sheltering a million coloured binds.  A Ladder was propped up upon the top ridge.  The chairs around the room were made from stiff black leather and all looked uncomfortable.  Although he hadn’t realised it at first Hugo was standing upon the black spindles of a large swastika that had been engraved within the tiles of the floor. 

‘Nice of you to join us, gentlemen.’

The four of them spun to a door just past the lounge.  Max and Klaus strode towards them.  Schulze placed a book back into the second shelf and smiled as his Father crossed the floor.  They embraced and Max kissed his son’s cheeks and held his face within his hands.  He then turned to the smiles of
Carsten and Howard and Hugo.

‘Thank you for getting him here safely.’

‘Security taken the night off?’ said Howard.

‘I relieved them around three hours ago but its protocol that some remain, I took care of those the best I could.’

‘All but one,’ Klaus grinned.

‘My apologies,’ Max said whilst returning a smirk.  He rest a hand on Klaus’ shoulder,

‘Now, where is he?’

Schulze clattered against the floor, his boots slapping at the spotless tile.  His gloved fist met each hinge of the framework and he began plucking the sheet away from the four corners, one by one.  He then grabbed at the cover and glared at the troop of onlookers before thrusting it away, revealing the beaten and bruised Gestapo Major.  

His hair fell upon a bloody brow and his eyes were tired and weary.  A gag had tied his tongue and a slither of dry spittle had set over his chin.  For a moment no one said a word.  They just stared at him.  His head was slanted, his breathing shallow and wheezy.  Hugo stepped forwards.  The others watched him breath in a deep breath.  Without so much as a breath he let out a terrifying, heart stopping cry that took everyone by surprise.  His chest rocked from the sudden inflation and his face became red with rage. 

He opened his eyes...

At first he saw only the memories within his sleepy mind, visages from a long, long sleep.  The blustery figures standing before him took a while to clear and he panicked and rocked within the chair as he noticed that his hands and lips were tied.  When he calmed he darted a glare around the room and tried to speak, his eyes wide with confusion.  Hugo slowly stepped up the two short stairs and lashed a fist at the Major’s face.  Blood crept across the floor and Hugo delivered two more blows before stepping back and swiping at his teary gaze.  Blood smudged over his cheeks.  Anaheim raised his head, dazed.  Klaus moved past the stalled figures in front of him and watched, unsure of what to do or how to comprehend the events unfolding.

‘Do you know why you’re here?’ Hugo seethed.

The Major gave out a huff and then sat back into the chair, studying Hugo intently. 

‘You know me,’ he continued, ‘you knew my friend too.  My brother, Felix Kalb.’

Major Anaheim failed to hide the expression that soured his face. 

‘Ah,’ said Hugo, ‘you know him.’

A first smacked against the Major’s chin and his head flew back into the rise of the seat.  Hugo clutched at his face and untied the cloth that bound his mouth.  Major Anaheim flexed his cheeks and opened his mouth before grinning. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Maybe you know how you ended up here?  How you came to be in this secret hideout you so eloquently designed for the Third Reich’s superiors?’

Hugo moved, revealing the masked face of Private Kevin Schulze.

‘Or maybe you recognise the face of your own assistant?’

The balaclava came away with a swift yank and Schulze glared at the man sitting before him with gathered malice.  Major Anaheim squinted and again, smiled. 

Hugo nodded and looked towards Max. 

‘Where is the chamber?’

‘Below this very room,’ Max said, ‘there’s a door, behind the bookcase.’

‘Original,’ Hugo said. 

‘He’ll stay down there until he’s ready to admit what he’s done.’

Klaus stood by the door, drumming his finger against the circular face of his Grandfather’s watch.  He had watched as Max pulled at five books, each on different levels of the bookcase.  Taking a step back Max looked on and waited until the moving wall clunked to a stop, revealing a steep tunnel.  They followed him inside.  Schulze crept behind the Major and gagged him once more before kicking at the back of the cart and steering the frame across the room and into the darkness of the passageway.  Anaheim jerked and groaned as they came to a stony landing and
Carsten opened the steel door that sat before them.  Hugo joined them and helped Schulze peel the chair away from its brass frame before settling it down in the centre of the room.  Upstairs, Howard rose from one of the couches.  He marched gently across the lounge and set his finger over a record player.  A vast selection of vinyl records sat on a side table and he snatched one away from its cover and set it against the slow trundle of the deck.  A bellow of jazz filled the room and Howard lit a cigar, closing his eyes.  Keeping in the tears.