A Necessary Hell

by Nigel Price

  Harry took the keys from her. “I suppose you think you’re really clever, don’t you?”

  “You could just say thank you.”

  He selected the right key, put it in and turned it.

  “I said—”

  “Thank you.” The engine coughed twice then bit. A manual. Harry pushed in the clutch, slipped in the first gear and they pulled out onto the road.

  “As it’s a Sunday, with any luck the owner will be having a lie-in. They might stay indoors all day.”

  “Luck? Yeah. Right. We’ve had so much of that lately, haven’t we?”

  They found the signs for the centre of town. In spite of his tiredness and everything that had happened to him, Harry couldn’t help being struck by the beauty of the place. “This is stunning.”

  “It’s a world heritage site.” Ingrid became tour guide. “On our left, the town hall. Note the medieval gabling and abundant frescos. On our right, please feel free to take photographs of the—”

  “Ha ha. I just meant, it would be good to come back here when this is all over. Stay perhaps.”

  “Oh.”

  “What do you mean, Oh?”

  “Just Oh.”

  “Is that such a revolting prospect?”

  She shrugged and looked out of the window. “I just can’t think about afterwards right now.”

  “Of course. Stupid of me.” He changed gear as he negotiated a narrow turning between two large painted buildings. Frescos of Alpine hunters glared at him as they aimed flintlocks at a springing deer.

  “That would be nice though,” she said after a moment’s consideration. “Thomas would like to see the river.”

  “Thomas? Yes, of course. Thomas,” Harry said quickly. He saw that Ingrid was smiling.

  “My mother would love it too,” she added, smile broadening.

  Harry caught on.

  Then they were laughing. Which felt good. It had been a while.

  Thirty Three

  They found the way onto the A73 autobahn and headed south towards Erlangen. Nuremberg was a short distance beyond.

  “So what’s the plan?”

  Harry was cruising along the inner lane, getting the feel of the old Opel. It was a far cry from his rented Jag. “Well, from Franklin’s mobile we’ve got Krantz’s home address. However, if he’s been warned we might be coming he’ll have gone to ground or fled.”

  “Which? There’s quite a difference.”

  “If he’s fled, we’re screwed. He could have gone anywhere. Even out of the country. So we have to hope he’s gone to ground. If he has, it’s unlikely to be at his home address unless it’s a fortress. He probably won’t know the police told us about the night club. So I’d say he’ll have gone there.”

  “Which is likely to be even more of a fortress.”

  Harry thought about it. “Yesno.”

  “What?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Which is it?”

  “More no than yes. A nightclub has to give access to the public or to its members. His home doesn’t.”

  “So you and I just queue up and walk in?”

  “I’m working on that.”

  It was broad daylight as they shot down the autobahn. After forty five minutes they started to see the signs for Erlangen. Nuremberg was another half hour further on.

  Ingrid was studying a map on her mobile. “Found it.” She enlarged the area around the site.

  “Guide me to it,” Harry said. “I’ll do a drive past. Then we can park up and walk by for a closer look.”

  “Is that wise? There are bound to be security cameras. If they’re expecting us, they’ll be monitoring them.”

  Harry was thinking. “Maybe that’s what we want. Draw them out. Make them come out after us. Saves us the trouble of going in.”

  “That’s great. So they send out the heavies. Krantz is hardly likely to come with them though, is he?”

  “So that’s when we go in.”

  “Harry, these aren’t the Keystone Cops. We saw the kind of men they use back at the police station. If they come after us, how many more times do you think we can get lucky? And don’t forget, the police are after us too.”

  She was right. The jaws of a trap were closing. It reminded Harry of a nature film where antelope drink at a waterhole. A crocodile lurches out of the water, slams its jaws on one of them, and drags it under for the death roll. He was starting to feel like the antelope. So far he and Ingrid had been able to leap aside, avoiding the jaws and the teeth. It couldn’t go on forever. At some point their luck would run out.

  Still, what choice did they have? To surrender to the police – this time yet another force in Bavaria. They would have to convince the interrogating officers all over again. They had seen how their opponents were not frightened of launching an attack even on a police station. Next time they might catch Harry and Ingrid still locked in their cells. Then there would be no escape.

  Bavaria was Gutman’s home turf. If some of the police in North Rhine-Westphalia were in his pay, what were the chances that some in Bavaria would be too? The best option was to remain at liberty for as long as they could. On the run.

  “We need to change the way we look,” he said.

  “But then the club guards won’t recognise us. So they won’t come out after us.”

  “Oh yes they will. I’ll make sure they do. It’s the police we want to throw off the trail.”

  “You think they won’t be so particular?”

  “They’ll have been issued with our photographs. We need a pharmacy so you can dye your hair.”

  “Can’t I just wear a hat? I mean, I can’t suddenly make my hair long. Not unless I buy a wig. Which would look stupid and obvious.”

  “Hats fall off. And anyone can still see you’re a blonde. As for the length, maybe you can buy a hair extension.”

  “Those fall off too, Harry.”

  “Not if you attach it properly.” He turned to have a quick look at her hair. “It looks long enough to take one.”

  “How the hell do you know about hair extensions? Was that part of your army training too?”

  “Absolutely. A vital element of jungle warfare technique. Hot-wiring cars and hair extensions. The British army caters for all eventualities.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  He glanced at her and saw she was smiling. Which was good, because they had just passed a sign telling them that Nuremberg was coming up fast.

  They found a supermarket with a pharmacy on the outskirts of town and pulled over so Ingrid could make the necessary purchases. She did so and got back in the car. “Now all we need is somewhere I can perform my procedures. Suggestions?”

  Harry ran through the possibilities. Hotels and Gasthofs would all have check-in times starting after midday. “Service station?”

  She gave him a look that killed the idea stone dead.

  “Okay. We need a hotel then. One that will let us take a room straight away.”

  “Money should do it. Find somewhere small and make them an offer …”

  “… they can’t refuse,” Harry completed for her.

  “God. ‘Going to the mattresses.’ ‘Make them an offer they can’t refuse.’ How many more Godfather quotes have you got in you?”

  “That’s about it.”

  “Two? From a book the size of The Godfather?”

  “You know how to make a man feel small.”

  They found the perfect place on the way to the city centre. A chain would have had a strict check-in policy, so Harry settled on a small Gasthof. It was built in Bavarian style and they could see windows open. Cleaners were at work in at least two of the rooms where some of the previous night’s guests had already left. Rooms were being serviced ready for the next incomers.

  Harry parked up alongside the building and they went in.

  “Leave the talking to me,” Ingrid said.

  A young man sat behind a reception desk. In an adjacent dining room, guests were finishi
ng their breakfasts. There was the sound of a vacuum cleaner somewhere up a staircase. The establishment was big enough to have a lift. The doors opened and two people tumbled out laden with cases. Harry and Ingrid waited until they had settled their account and left. Then they stepped up to the desk.

  Ingrid took charge. As she spoke, the frown on the young man’s face suggested to Harry that he didn’t like the idea of letting anyone check in before noon. He replied as such, only for Ingrid to fire back at him, broad smile, friendly. He replied.

  She turned to Harry. “They have one room that wasn’t used last night. A double. He says we can have that but he’s insisting he can’t let us have it until the proper check-in time at two.”

  “Have you offered to pay for it in advance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Double it.”

  She drew him aside and lowered her voice. “Don’t you think that will make him suspicious?”

  “No. We’re on a touring holiday. You’re showing me the beauties of Bavaria. We want to dump our stuff somewhere and go out to see the city, knowing we’ve got a room for tonight. What’s the problem?”

  She tried again. It worked. A key was passed over the desk, together with a registration form to fill in. Ingrid scribbled in some details and handed it back. Smiles were exchanged, directions to the room given, and they were walking up the stairs to the first floor.

  “He asked if we needed help with our bags. I said we’d bring them in ourselves.” She hefted her one carrier bag in her hand.

  “And the payment? Was he happy with double?”

  “I didn’t offer him double.”

  “Oh. What then?”

  He noticed she had gone red. “I said we are on our honeymoon. I let him imagine the rest. You know. That we want to have the room sooner rather than later. Anxious to be on our own and so forth. Rather than walking around looking at the fucking sights.”

  “Ah. Okay.”

  The room was plain but fine for their purposes. There was a small en suite bathroom which Ingrid quickly inspected, noting shower, hair dryer, towels. All the necessary amenities.

  “Right,” she said. “I’ll need a good hour. What are you going to do?”

  Harry looked around the room and thought about it. There was a kettle and tray bearing the bare essentials for brewing a cup of undrinkable tea or even more undrinkable instant coffee. So the options were limited. That said, he would very much enjoy watching Ingrid dye her hair. Images of her wrapped in a towel flashed through his brain.

  “Perhaps I’ll take a walk.”

  “Is that wise? I mean, what if the police—?”

  “There was an outdoors shop up the road. I’ll get a hat and some shades.”

  “Subtle. Who’d ever think of that, eh?”

  “When I come back I’ll knock the opening notes of Beethoven’s Fifth.”

  “What?”

  “You know. Ba Ba Ba-ba; Ba Ba Ba-ba.”

  She stared at him. “Just go. Bye bye. Or rather, Bye Bye Bye-bye; Bye Bye Bye-bye.”

  “Think you’re really funny, don’t you?” He left.

  He managed to slip out past the reception desk without being seen, happy to leave the young man with the image of frantic love-making taking place in the bedroom upstairs. Actually, visions of it were not far from his own mind as he walked out and up the road.

  The outdoors shop provided exactly what he needed, and minutes later he set off towards the centre of town. A baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, which were shielded behind a pair of Ray-Ban Aviator-style sunglasses. He would have loved to blow more of Tobacco Man’s cash on the real things, but had settled for imitation ones to conserve resources.

  With the collar of his jacket turned up and shoulders hunched, he hoped it didn’t look screamingly obvious that he was trying not to be recognised.

  The Karsinger Club was in the Altstadt. Nearly the whole area had been smashed to pieces by Allied bombing during the war. Like Soest, the bits that survived had been plastered when the ground invasion had taken place, American divisions storming the city in savage street-to-street and house-to-house close-quarter fighting. Also like Soest it had been rebuilt superbly. Sure, it would never be quite the same again, and large parts of the original medieval city had gone forever. Nonetheless, to Harry most of it looked fantastic. He walked through the streets gazing up at the beautiful buildings, admiring the distinctive Bavarian architecture. All he needed was Ingrid doing her guide impression.

  He found a cafe and got himself a coffee. Before he left, he bought some fresh rolls filled with cold meats and salad. Also two croissants. At least he and Ingrid would have something to go with the hotel room’s mediocre beverages, should they want it.

  Then to the Karsinger. He decided it safest not to go near the place until they were ready. Instead he circled the neighbourhood, familiarising himself with the routes roundabout. There were small squares with fountains, shopping precincts for pedestrians only, and a river cutting the city centre in two.

  He clocked it all. This was going to be the hardest thing they had attempted so far. As his instructors had said in the army, ‘time spent on recce is never wasted.’ It had been one of those annoying nuggets that had been trotted out. Prior planning and preparation prevents piss poor performance. KISS – Keep it simple, stupid. Really, really annoying. What was especially annoying was to meet ex-army friends who regurgitated the same puerile crap in civilian life.

  A clock struck the hour and Harry headed back for the Gasthof swinging his bag of purchases. He entered the lobby carefully, checking the coast was clear before nipping up the stairs unseen. He approached the door.

  Ba Ba Ba-ba. Ba Ba B—

  The door flew open. Standing in the threshold, Ingrid was a picture. Bath towel around her, another smaller one round her head. Only her admonishing scowl was incongruous. She stood aside for him to enter.

  “You’re early.”

  “You said an hour.”

  “I said a good hour.”

  “That’s too imprecise. You should have been more specific.”

  “I was relying on you having some imagination.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “You haven’t had much experience of women, have you?”

  How to answer? It was a minefield.

  “Sure. I just thought an hour would be enough.”

  She left it at that and went into the bathroom. Harry tossed the rolls onto the sideboard and sat on the edge of the bed. A moment later he heard the hair dryer.

  “Do you have straighteners?” he called, displaying his knowledge of the procedures involved.

  Her face appeared round the door. “Nice try.”

  The hair dryer continued. A while later she reappeared, this time the whole person. Harry noticed that she had also acquired a new T-shirt. She had refreshed her wardrobe from the limited offerings in the supermarket. With a bolt of shame he realised that he hadn’t. He would get some cologne at the next opportunity. That should do it.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  She gave him a look.

  “Oh. The hair. It looks great. I’d hardly have known it was you.”

  A damp towel landed in his face. He stood up. Went to hand it back. And found himself smack in front of her. He caught the fragrance of the shampoo. Apples. Sharp and fresh, similar to the lemony perfume of that first morning in the car when he had given her a lift.

  She was looking at him, a wry smile wondering what he would do next. Frankly he didn’t know. So she leaned forward ever so slightly and kissed him.

  “You’ve had coffee,” she said.

  “Sorry.”

  She smiled. “Someone needs to sort you out, Harry Brown.”

  “You’re welcome to try,” he replied.

  So she did.

  Thirty Four

  Ingrid was sleeping. As Harry looked at her, folded into his side beneath the duvet, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. At least she had fallen asleep after the sex, no
t during. That was something.

  And they had been running from terrorists and police throughout the night. So fair do’s.

  Careful not to wake her, he treated himself to a luxuriant stretch. His body went rigid and he squirmed with delight. Ingrid stirred and made a sound deep in her throat. A protest. One hand tightened on his arm, the fingers digging into his flesh. He watched them flex and knead like a cat’s paw.

  She opened her eyes and peered at him through the lashes. He watched memory coming back to her. The realisation of what the two of them had done a short while before. Harry hoped against hope that she wouldn’t regret it. He certainly didn’t. In that one brief moment he could see all the calculations, re-evaluation, the whole summing-up taking place behind her beautiful sleepy eyes. Then a smile. And he knew everything was all right.

  She tightened her grip on him, her body moving against his under the duvet. The touch of her warm skin the length of him made Harry want to stay there forever.

  “I suppose we should get up,” he said, feeling the nag of duty.

  “Not yet.”

  He wasn’t going to protest. Let Krantz and the whole bloody lot of them go hang. Out of the window he could see the sky was unbroken cloud. A light drizzle had started to fall, drifting across his line of sight. It spattered on the window panes, and from the overhead gutter a persistent drumming began as a line of drops falling onto the outside sill intensified with the strengthening shower.

  He felt Ingrid’s body shudder so he pulled her tighter against him. She responded with a kiss. First on his chin, then his cheek, and finally on his lips.

  And so it began all over again.

  The second time took twice as long. Not that either of them was taking notes. They were no longer strangers and went at each other with an intimate urgency. For both of them it had been a long while. This was catch-up. The retaking of lost ground.

  This time there was no sleep afterwards. Just a deep tender calm. Somewhere in the Gasthof, a cleaner was earning their pay, vacuuming carpets with vigour. Then another party was checking in. Suitcases banged against the corridor walls outside the room and voices griped about the lift being too small to be of use. Ingrid silently mimicked them which set Harry laughing. For a moment they were like two teenagers.