by Eric Meyer
The roaring of the train was enormous, yet the hammering bursts of machine gun fire were even louder, the tunnel filled with the terrible, overwhelming, chattering sound of machine gun bursts. If hell was a dense blackness with mind-numbing noise that burned through to the innermost part of your brain, we were already there. We could see the driver of the train, peering through his round porthole, backlit by the flames of the boiler. He’d seen the flashes of gunfire although he wouldn’t be able to hear them. I doubt he even realized we were shooting at him. The train came nearer, we added the fire of our PPShs, even Hachmann had his Walther pistol in his hand and was firing repeatedly. He turned to me.
“Roth, it’s too late, we need to run.”
“Keep firing, damn you, it’s our only chance.”
He shouted something else, but I missed it in the din of conflicting sounds. The train came on, I took out the clip and inserted a new one and emptied it again at the driver. One of the machine guns stopped abruptly. I could see Vielberg fighting to free the breach, cursing loudly, a bullet had jammed inside the mechanism. But it was too late, we were almost out of time. Then the driver’s head disappeared and the train started to slow with a screech of brakes.
“My God!” I looked around, it was Goethe.
“I didn’t think you were a religious man, Scharfuhrer.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t, but I was praying for that to happen, now I don’t know. Maybe it helped.”
“You’re a little premature, the train hasn’t stopped yet.”
The engine was still slowing, sparks shooting up from the iron wheels, it was braking but it was still coming at us. It was fast, too fast, the train was going to hit us. There was only one thing left for us to do.
“Run!”
We jumped off the tractor and trailer and started running away from the onrushing train. I made sure that Tamara was beside me and put out a hand to steady her. In my other hand I was holding my PPSh. We got less than fifty meters when the train hit the tractor. The screeching sound continued but the crash was like a bomb exploding, still the train didn’t stop. It was pushing the wreckage of the tractor and trailer towards us.
“Keep running, we’re not clear yet!”
I hadn’t needed to shout, cacophony that followed us was all the encouragement we needed. I held grimly to Tamara’s hand and kept running, my legs were pumping and my chest was burning. The train came nearer and nearer, I thought we were about to be engulfed, smashed to pulp by the iron behemoth that pursued us. I took a quick look around, it was slowing, but still not enough, we had no chance to jump to the side to avoid it, the tunnel was narrow and the tractor and trailer were slewed broadside, touching the brick sides. We put everything into a last spurt, then at last, finally, the train came to a stop.
Goethe slowed to a walk, he was gasping for oxygen, the others slowed and then they stopped and started grinning. Until we heard voices, men stepping down from the train. The train guards, probably militiamen.
“Keep it quiet,” I hissed at them. “We need to get away from here without them hearing or seeing us.”
They stared at me wide-eyed, the danger had lifted and now it was back, but they obeyed. I led them towards the end of the tunnel. Behind us, we could hear the shouts of the Russians. So far they hadn’t realized that anyone had been in the tractor and there was no pursuit. Then at last we came out of the tunnel, behind us we heard the sound of an explosion and flames seared out of the wreckage. Perhaps it was the petrol that had exploded, we’d taken on board several drums of fuel from the half-track. Smoke poured out from the wreck, at least it would cover our tracks and hide the evidence of our having been there. At least for the time being, once they looked closely they’d realize that German soldiers had been involved. The fire wouldn’t hide the MG34s we’d been forced to abandon. We’d arrived in a dismal, industrial area, gaunt factory buildings and cranes reaching into the sky like iron skeletons. It was a marshalling yard.
“Do you know the way from here?” I asked Tamara.
She shook her head. “No, I have not been here before.”
I knew that the cathedral was to the east of the city, we had to cross Moscow to reach it. We walked on across the railway yard, tripping over broken sleepers and twisted rails until we came to an empty building. Empty because the Luftwaffe had dumped several bombs on it and the roof had disappeared along with one of the walls and the upper floors. But at least it would shield us from a casual gaze.
“This’ll do, we’ll stop here while we decide on which direction to go. Blomberg, take Wasser and keep watch outside, but stay out of sight.”
We went through the empty doorway and into what was once probably the manager’s office. It was all covered in snow.
“We have a choice of following the railway line eastwards and hoping it comes out near the cathedral or making our way through the city. Both carry a risk, there’ll be patrols along the railway line. Equally, we could run into militiamen on the streets, but at least we could stay in the lanes and alleyways.
“We should stay on the railway line,” Hachmann said. “Believe me, I’m a policeman, I’d look very closely at a group like ours if we were on the streets of Berlin.”
“That sounds sensible, we’ll take the railway line. Remember we’re in the enemy capital, we’ll send someone ahead to check that the route is clear. If there’s any shooting we’ll have the NKVD on our necks, so I suggest we sling our weapons and use our knives if necessary.”
The torch beam took us by surprise. “Kto Tam?”
I didn’t understand the Russian words, but the meaning was clear. Who were we and what were we doing here. I realized that we looked, at least in the dark, no different than Red Army soldiers. Until we opened our mouths. Tamara answered him.
“My soldaty , my otdyhayut”
“Zhenshchina?”
There was a gasp and the torch fell to the floor, the man fell with a crash. Blomberg was behind him. “We heard someone talking and thought there might be problem,” he grinned. He bent down and wiped his knife on the man’s coat.
“Well done, Werner, at least you didn’t give him a chance to sound an alarm.” I turned to Tamara. “What did he say?”
“He was just surprised that I was here, a woman. He assumed you were all Russian soldiers, probably thought I was your whore.”
“At least he was on his own.” I bent down and checked him, as I thought he was a militiaman. He had a pistol in a holster on his belt, a Tokarev automatic. I pulled it out, checked that the clip was full and handed it to Tamara. “You may need this.”
“She shouldn’t be armed,” Hachmann said nastily. “She is an enemy, she could betray us.”
“If she calls in the NKVD the pistol won’t make any difference, will it? She keeps the gun, Kriminalinspektor. I command here and that is an order!”
He looked angry but didn’t argue, instead he settled on a look that said, “I’ll deal with you later.”
I thought about that shot earlier, almost certainly it was Hachmann trying to settle accounts. It would be useful having Tamara armed, she’d demonstrated that she was quite prepared to use violence when it was necessary.
It was time to press on. Vielberg took the point and we struck out along the side of the railway line. Although we looked like Russian troops, when daylight came we would need to get undercover. Despite our snowsuits, hats and PPShs we looked more like a band of partisans or mercenaries than regular troops or militia. If anyone caught sight of us, especially NKVD, there’d be awkward questions to answer. We walked on through the bitterly cold Moscow night, at one stage, we could see the onion domes in the distance that marked the Kremlin.
“St Basil’s,” Blomberg said with some authority. “I came here once, it’s pretty impressive.”
“The Cathedral of the Protection of Most Holy Theotokos on the Moat,” Tamara interrupted. “Built by Ivan the Terrible to mark the capture of Kazan and Astrakhan, it is the centre of the city. For
a long time it was the tallest building in Moscow. It used to be very important to the church, before the communists.”
I was surprised. “You’re a Christian, you know about St Basil’s?” I said, surprised.
“My mother brought me up as Russian Orthodox, yes, we were Christians. A priest in the village said Mass once a week, although it had to be done in secret. They often prayed for the re-instatement of Christianity in Russia, for the day when we could openly visit and pray in the Cathedral.”
“You’re not a Christian now?”
“Not since my mother was killed, no.”
I didn’t ask her what had happened. Russia was a land of tragedy and death. There were few people in this vast country that hadn’t been touched by one evil or another. And then we had come, the Germans, bombing, killing, machine-gunning. And looting.
“Do you know the Cathedral of St John the Baptist?”
Hachmann looked at me sharply but I ignored him.
“Yes, it is on the other side of the city, I have been there.”
“How far is it from here?”
She thought for a few moments, calculating. It is about five kilometers from the Kremlin, from Red Square.”
I looked at my wristwatch, we had an hour and a half of darkness left.
“We can make it all the way before dawn, let’s move now, we can get some rest before we start searching for this relic.”
“Which relic?”
Tamara was looking at me with a curious expression. Hachmann looked angrier than ever.
“I told you to keep your mouth shut, Roth. As for you, Miss, this relic is none of your concern, so keep your nose out of it.”
“Hachmann, for God’s sake, there’s no need to hide what we’re doing. It’s a worthless piece of rubbish, about as genuine as one of the thousands of pieces of the True Cross that are circulating the world.”
“I warn you, Roth, shut up about it.”
I shrugged. “If you wish.”
I could tell that Tamara was intensely curious. I wondered if it would be a problem for us if she knew. But she’d have to know sooner or later, I’d have to worry about that when we reached the Cathedral.
“Let’s go, Blomberg, would you take the point and give Vielberg a rest.”
We followed the railway line for another half an hour, making good time. The place was deserted, no lights showed because of the blackout, the city still seemed to be asleep. Then we saw the distinctive spire of a cathedral looming out of the darkness.
“Is that the cathedral?”
Tamara nodded. “Yes, it is the Cathedral of St John the Baptist.”
We found a narrow lane that ran from the railway line to a square in front of St John’s. Directly opposite the church was what looked like a large abandoned house, many offices and houses had been deserted since last year when our Army Group Centre was outside the gates of Moscow. It was certain that many of them would stay empty as long as there was any doubt about the outcome of the war. It was a detached house, we went in through the front gate, around the side and Wasser quietly knocked a hole in a pane of glass, put his hand through, slid the bolt aside and opened the back door. We went in and found that much of the furniture was still in place.
“This is a perfect place for us to hide in through the coming day, we can get some sleep, we’re all exhausted. We’ll take two-hour watches, I’ll take the first one. While you’re resting, I’ll check through the supplies and see what food we have left. Kriminalinspektor Hachmann, I’ll call next, you can take the second watch.”
The Gestapo man didn’t look happy about taking a watch, but he was wise enough not to object. The men explored the house and found that there were enough beds and mattresses. They threw themselves down and within minutes most were asleep, exhausted after the past twenty-four hours. Tamara lay down on a couch in an ornate drawing room and I found a heavy cloak hanging in the hallway to cover her. Soon the house was quiet, they were all asleep, I went into another room, there was another couch for me to sit on close to the window so that I could keep watch. I jumped when I heard a noise directly behind me, but it was Tamara.
“What’s up?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She came and sat down next to me.
“You should get some rest, it’ll be a long night tonight. We need to do what we came here to do and then make our escape, it’s not going to be easy.”
“What happens to me then?”
I smiled gently. “I told you, Tamara, I’ll make sure you’re alright.”
She was sitting very close to me and I took her hand.
“I wish we were a long way away from here. I hate this war.”
“Soon, Tamara, soon.”
She came closer to me and suddenly, I had no idea how it happened, we were kissing. I felt a surge of arousal flow through me, I wanted this woman so much, quite obviously she felt the same way too. Then we were both tearing at our clothes and panting with arousal, past the point of no return. I stroked her, kissed her and held her to me. She groaned with passion, pulling off her panties and lying on her back so that I could climb above her and enter her. The sex was quick, urgent, even violent, but so necessary, it was what we wanted. It satisfied a deep need that we both harbored for each other, perhaps from the very beginning, when we had our first encounter at the farm. Afterwards, we lay quietly. A few minutes later, she said, “You will take care of me, Max?”
“Of course I will.”
I thought I heard a slight noise in another room, but perhaps it was the house timbers moving, it was quite common in older houses. Tamara started yawning, she fell asleep and I helped her back to the other room and made her comfortable on her couch.
Chapter Six
I still had an hour before I could wake Hachmann. I rummaged through our packs and found the pitiful remains of our rations. Most of our supplies had been left in the trailer when we abandoned it in the railway tunnel. I wasn’t expecting a hue and cry yet after the crash with the train, they’d simply put it down to a drunken farmer taking a short cut through the tunnel, running out of fuel and abandoning his tractor. Until the fire died down and they looked more deeply and found the evidence of us being there, the machine guns and supplies. Across the square, people started to appear as the day got lighter. A motor vehicle passed by, driving cautiously in the snow. A militia patrol marched through the square, but no one came near the house. After two hours I woke a reluctant Hachmann and went to sleep myself. I woke up in the mid-afternoon. The men were all awake, Brenner had shared out some of the food and prepared a meal. I wolfed it down while I looked out of the window. The square was quite busy now, people milling around, I saw a pair of nuns, then a priest of some kind wearing the odd Russian Orthodox robes. A few soldiers strolled around with their girlfriends, arm in arm. It was such a peaceful, normal scene. None of them realized that the long arm of Adolf Hitler had reached into this tranquil place to rob them of their treasures. I was very conscious of Tamara, she didn’t look at me but there was an electricity, a current running between us, one that connected us after the night before. Hachmann darted the occasional sneering glance, I recalled the noise I’d heard while we’d been together. Had it been him, prowling around, watching? I shuddered, it felt obscene, as if we now had a voyeur, a sexual pervert stalking us in our midst. I tore my mind away from my personal problems and thought about the job in hand. The light was beginning to fade, it was almost time to move.
“What’s your plan, Roth?” Hachmann said abruptly. “I assume you’ve had time to come up with a plan, you haven’t been too busy elsewhere?”
So it had been him moving around. There would be a score to settle there, but not while we were still behind enemy lines. Unless he started it.
“We’ll enter the cathedral after dark and find someone in authority, whatever their ranks are.”
“The highest rank of priest is called a Metropolitan,” Tamara said. “There are also Bishops and Canons. Why do you want one of those people?�
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“Just to ask a couple of questions. Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad, we don’t intend to harm them.”
Unless of course you were a committed Christian and believed all this nonsense about relics touched by Christ. And Tamara was a committed Christian, I’d just told her a lie, the first one. I’d worry about that later. I continued.
“Once we have what we came for, we’ll try and find a different route out. I think we would do best heading southwest and then strike out for Smolensk, there are several German armies along that front and with any luck they’ll be attacking the Reds and the Soviets won’t spend time looking for us.”
“And how do you plan to travel to Smolensk, surely it’s more than a hundred kilometers?” Hachmann continued. “That’s a long way to walk.”
“We’ll have to steal a truck. It’s the only way, if we travel by night we may get away with it and avoid the roadblocks. Once we get clear of Moscow we can abandon the truck and go across country to stay out of sight.”
I finished speaking and we sat in silence while the men absorbed what I’d said. Perhaps I’d made it sound too easy. As plans went it was terrible, but what else could we do? We could hardly knock on the Kremlin door and ask Joseph Stalin for the loan of one of his vehicles. I smiled at the thought. Hachmann made no more objections, but he looked as gloomy and suspicious as ever. I wondered when he’d make his next move. I looked out of the window, the square had emptied.
“I think it’s dark enough now, we’ll go over to the cathedral and take a look around.”
The cathedral was dark, musty with the scent of incense. It was also silent, as far as I could see there was no one in there, we bolted the heavy door behind us. At the rear of the altar was an ornate, heavy gold casket. On the front of it was a plaque. I hardly dared to believe that this could be the artifact we had come so far to retrieve. It couldn’t be this easy.
“Tamara, what does it say?”
She peered through the gloom. “This casket contains the Robe of St John the Baptist, given to our Lord Jesus Christ when he began his ministry in the Holy Land. Why do you want to know?”