The Fallen Eagles

by Geoffrey Davison

  ‘My sister is expecting me to take her skiing,’ Leeburg lied.

  As Beck stood up they heard someone enter the porch and he gave his rare smile.

  ‘Just in time,’ he said to Leeburg. ‘My niece, Elka.’ He called to her by name.

  The door opened and the girl Leeburg had seen on the mountain came into the room. She looked straight at Leeburg and he found himself looking into a pair of pastel blue, sparkling eyes. He had never seen such eyes before. They lit up her whole face and held him like a magnet. She smiled and her smile matched her eyes with his brightness. It was a happy smile, and a happy face, with a freshness and beauty all of its own.

  Leeburg found himself staring at her.

  She unzipped her anorak as her uncle introduced them. Her hair was fair and curly and her slim figure fitted neatly into a colourful sweater and ski trousers.

  ‘You were on the mountain,’ she said as they shook hands.

  ‘Yes,’ Leeburg agreed. ‘I watched you. You ski well.’

  ‘And I watched you,’ she smiled back at him. ‘You are an expert.’

  ‘My dear,’ Otto Beck intervened. ‘Paul was one of our finest skiers. Don’t you remember?’

  ‘I was very young in those days, Uncle,’ Elka pointed out.

  ‘But you remember Paul and Erich Reitzer?’

  Reitzer! Suddenly the magic of the moment was lost for Leeburg.

  ‘Erich Reitzer. Yes, I do remember him. You were very close.’

  Leeburg agreed that they were. Perhaps there was something in the way that he had replied, or perhaps they just suspected that he didn’t want to talk about it. Whatever the reason, Otto Beck quickly changed the subject.

  ‘I have been trying to talk Paul into continuing with his studies,’ he said to his niece.

  ‘And have you succeeded?’ Elka asked, her eyes watching Leeburg.

  ‘It is eight years since I left school,’ Leeburg sighed. ‘Perhaps it is too late to pick up the threads.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Beck scolded. ‘It is never too late.’

  ‘I am sure Paul will work out his own future,’ Elka said quietly.

  There was something in the way that she spoke his name that Leeburg liked. He held out his hand to Otto Beck. ‘Thank you for your hospitality, Herr Beck,’ he said.

  The old man shook his hand warmly. ‘Come again, Paul. There is much to talk about.’

  ‘I will,’ Leeburg said. He turned to Elka. ‘No doubt we will meet again,’ he said.

  They shook hands.

  ‘There is as dance in the Hotel Bellvue this evening,’ she said, her eyes sparkling. ‘Why don’t you come along?’

  It wasn’t a direct invitation, but the opportunity was there for him to arrange to meet her. Leeburg held back. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I might well do that.’

  After he had left, Leeburg still saw the laughing eyes and smiling face, and the faint look of disappointment on her face when he had side tracked her invitation. He couldn’t deny, to himself, that he found her attractive. She had the freshness of a mountain stream, but he had other things on his mind.

  When he arrived at the Gasthof, Karl was in the kitchen. His mother and Freida were elsewhere. Karl was reading a newspaper. He put it down when he saw Leeburg.

  ‘I spoke to Heckmeir today,’ he said. ‘He would like you to join him.’

  Leeburg frowned. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. Franz Heckmeir was the chief instructor at the ski school. He was a veteran skier from pre-war. A good, solid type of man who had survived the war with a number of scars. Leeburg had heard that he had started his school again.

  ‘The pay won’t be very good,’ Karl continued, ‘but it will keep you occupied until you sort yourself out.’

  ‘I’ll see him in the morning,’ Leeburg said, without committing himself.

  ‘I also saw Ernzt Kaufman,’ Karl remarked. ‘You remember him?’

  Leeburg remembered. They had been called up at the same time.

  ‘He is meeting Muller and one or two others tonight in the bar at the Alpenhof Hotel. He thought you might like to join them.’

  Again Leeburg felt his brother was pushing him rather than being informative. Later, when they all sat down for their evening meal the conversation reinforced the feeling. They were all aware of Heckmeir’s proposal and Kaufman’s gathering. His mother thought it would do Leeburg good to meet some of his old friends and as for the offer to help with the ski school, this was ideal. The only thing that wasn’t mentioned was what Leeburg proposed to do after the snows melted, but he knew this would soon crop up.

  After their evening meal Leeburg could feel his brother and mother waiting for him to make a move. It had become a trying time of the day. When once they would have been content to sit and talk, there had developed a strained atmosphere. His mother would sit silently doing her needlework and Karl would study the newspapers watching the antics of his wife out of the corner of his eye. Frieda seemed to enjoy the situation, but then she had always enjoyed people watching her. She would sit with her legs crossed to show her thighs, reading an old glossy magazine, or try to engage Leeburg in conversation.

  Leeburg decided he would go out. Not to see Kaufman, but to relieve the tension. He washed and changed and stepped out into the moonlit night without any predetermined plan of campaign. When he reached the town he saw the Hotel Bellvue and heard the music. He was determined not to join them, but he found himself being drawn to the music. It was a long time since he had heard a band playing and seen people dancing. He stood outside the hotel and watched through a window. They were mainly visitors to the town, Allied soldiers on leave, making the most of their escape from military life.

  For a while Leeburg stood watching. He couldn’t see Elka amongst the crowd and felt pleased. Somehow he didn’t want her to be with them. But as he turned to leave, he saw her approaching. She was not alone. With her was one of the men he had seen her with on the mountain. He felt annoyed with himself for being caught outside the hotel. He wanted to walk away.

  ‘Good evening, Paul,’ she called to him. She had a scarf around her head and wore a thick coat which reached down to her boots, but she still had that sparkling look in her eyes.

  ‘Good evening,’ he replied politely.

  She came over to him, and introduced her escort, Lieutenant Dubois of the French Army. The two men shook hands.

  ‘I am pleased you have decided to come,’ Elka said.

  ‘No, I am not going to the dance,’ Leeburg said hastily. ‘I was just passing by.’

  He bade them both goodnight, and walked quickly away, cursing himself for having been seen standing outside the hotel like a little school boy.

  As he turned into the main street, he heard footsteps come up beside him. It was Elka.

  ‘I have come to see if I can make you change your mind,’ she smiled.

  Leeburg clenched his fists. She was making it difficult for him. He shook his head.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘but no. Good night.’

  He started to walk away, but she followed him.

  ‘Do you mind if I walk with you for a while?’ she asked.

  ‘What about the Lieutenant?’ he asked.

  ‘He will be there when I go back.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere special,’ he said.

  ‘You can get a hot drink at the Post. It is not very good, but it is a warm room.’

  She was pushing him, he knew, but she didn’t make it sound as if she was. They walked in silence until the Hotel was in front of them.

  ‘Shall we?’ she asked.

  Leeburg looked thoughtful and then agreed. Inside the restaurant they took a corner table. A few other couples had the same idea. Leeburg looked at them.

  ‘Allied soldiers?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Do you object?’

  Leeburg shrugged. He had been a soldier himself. He had also been part of an army of occupation. It was their turn now. ‘Not really, I
suppose.’

  ‘Good,’ she said cheerfully, ‘because I work for them.’

  She unbuttoned her coat and took off her headscarf. Again Leeburg was entranced with her laughing eyes and ready smile. He also liked the lines of her plain woollen dress. There was nothing pretentious about her like Frieda.

  ‘What sort of work do you do?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh! mainly act as an interpreter. My French is very good. I hope to teach it one day.’

  ‘So your uncle was telling me.’

  She laughed. ‘Did he also tell you that I used to have a schoolgirl crush on you and Erich Reitzer?’

  Any surprise at her frankness was lost at the mention of Reitzer’s name.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘he didn’t.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said eagerly. ‘I used to look forward so much to coming here. I could never make up my mind which of you two I liked the most. You were both so much alike.’

  Alike! Were they? Leeburg wondered. He hoped not.

  ‘Your uncle is keeping well,’ he said, trying to avert discussion about Reitzer.

  Again she laughed. ‘Aren’t you interested to know which one I finally decided I liked the best.’

  The waitress came and took their order.

  ‘Which one?’ he asked.

  ‘Neither,’ she smiled. ‘I decided I would marry my fencing instructor instead.’

  It was Leeburg’s turn to smile. Her exuberance was infectious.

  ‘There you have smiled. Don’t you feel better?’

  ‘Why do you say that? Do I always look glum?’

  ‘Very,’ she said scolding him. ‘Each time I have seen you, you have looked glum.’

  ‘Which is three times.’

  ‘Five. I saw you yesterday and the day before, but you didn’t see me.’

  Leeburg played with his cup. He had his reasons for feeling glum, but she wasn’t to know.

  ‘Do you know what happened to Erich Reitzer?’ she asked.

  Leeburg frowned and didn’t try to cover it up. ‘No,’ he said. ‘The last I saw of him was in Italy before I was taken prisoner.’ What was it to her? he wondered. Was she still carrying a torch for him? ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘The French were making enquiries about him last year,’ she said slightly.

  ‘What sort of enquiries?’ Leeburg asked sharply.

  Elka shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. She started to collect her things together. Suddenly there had developed an atmosphere between them. ‘Would you see me back to the dance, please?’

  ‘Wait,’ Leeburg pleaded. He had to know more. It was important. She looked at him, but her eyes were not laughing any longer. ‘About Erich Reitzer,’ he said.

  ‘He was wanted in connection with some enquiries the French were making,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what for. It could have been for anything.’

  But more likely for Lucciano, Leeburg thought. ‘What did they find?’ he asked.

  ‘They think that he escaped into Switzerland.’

  That was what Karl had said, Leeburg thought. It was a strong runner.

  ‘What about Frau Reitzer?’

  ‘She has heard nothing,’ Elka said flatly. ‘Or so she says.’

  ‘You think differently?’

  ‘I don’t know, Paul. It was last year. It has passed over. I am sorry I mentioned it.’

  ‘But you did. Why?’

  Was she still working for them now? Asking Leeburg questions so that she could report back to them?

  She looked confused. ‘I don’t really know. I thought you might have heard something. You were his friend.’

  ‘And if I had, would you go and tell the French?’

  There was a sudden silence. It had been an unkind question, but it was out. He looked into her face, expecting to see a hurt expression, but there wasn’t one. Her eyes were clear, defiant. Only her lips were tightly pressed.

  ‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I would.’

  She stood up and fastened her coat. What had started out with the promise of a happy evening had become a disaster. He followed her out of the restaurant and into the cold night air. She walked quickly through the streets without speaking to him. When she reached the hotel, she stopped. ‘Good night,’ she said coolly. ‘Thank you for the drink.’

  Before Leeburg could reply she had left him standing.

  For a moment he stood looking blankly at the bright lights of the Hotel. He was both confused and worried. There could only be one reason why the French authorities were looking for Reitzer — Lucciano! That meant that Leeburg wasn’t safe neither. It was as he had feared. But how had they got on to Reitzer? Who had known? Had Reitzer talked? It could only be him.

  As for Elka, he felt both hurt and resentful. She had made herself friendly so that she could question him about Reitzer. So that she could tell the authorities. If she was prepared to inform on Reitzer then she would do the same on him. It was as well that he had found out before she had wormed her way into his confidence.

  He walked away from the Hotel. It was still early and he didn’t wish to return to the Gasthof. In his present mood the strained atmosphere would make him even more depressed. What he needed was a drink. He remembered what Karl had said about Kaufman’s meeting in the cellar bar at the Alpenhof Hotel. Why not? he asked himself. Why not? A few drinks might help him forget for a while.

  The Hotel had its share of visitors in the restaurant, but the small cellar bar was only occupied by Kaufman and his party. There were six of them. Renner who had been an electrician’s apprentice before being called up, Gruber the farmer’s son from a few kilometres south of the town, Piesch who had worked on the railway, Hoffman from the chemist’s shop and Muller.

  The sixth person Leeburg didn’t recognize. He sat in a position of honour in the middle of the group. He was a tall, lean man, with sleek black hair and a prosperous air about him. He wore a neat cut suit and shirt and tie whereas the rest were in sweaters.

  They were a mixed group in age and appearance. Muller was the oldest. He sat in the corner, his fat face covered, as usual, with perspiration. Hoffman was younger than Muller, but looked much older. His hair had gone grey and one of his arms hung limp by his side. Renner and Gruber were in their mid-thirties. Small, stocky men, they could have been taken for brothers. They both were dark haired with dark eyes and a dour expression on their faces. Kaufman was a contemporary of Leeburg and still had a youthful air about him.

  As Leeburg joined them, Kaufman stood up to greet him.

  ‘Paul!’ he said. ‘I’m pleased you came.’ The others echoed the greeting.

  Leeburg shook hands with the five men he knew. He hesitated at the sixth waiting to be introduced.

  ‘This is Hans Kurtz,’ Kaufman explained. ‘We served together on the Eastern front before a shell parted us.’

  Leeburg and Kurtz shook hands as Kaufman briefly gave Leeburg’s history to his friend.

  ‘Order your friend a beer,’ Kurtz said.

  Kaufman shouted to the innkeeper who brought another stein of beer.

  ‘Whatever else may be in short supply, it isn’t beer, thank goodness,’ Kaufman said.

  His remark brought a comment out of Gruber and a discussion on the present shortages followed. Only Kurtz didn’t join in. He sat, with a slightly superior air about him. It was almost as if he had honoured them with his company.

  ‘Here are some cigarettes.’

  It was Kurtz. He threw a packet of American cigarettes on to the table. There was a general cry of amazement and delight from the table which seemed to please him.

  ‘Is there anything you can’t get?’ Kaufman asked.

  Kurtz’s lean handsome features relaxed into a smile. ‘Anything is possible if you know the right people,’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ Kaufman agreed like a schoolboy sitting at the feet of his hero. He turned to Leeburg. ‘Hans works for the newspaper,’ he explained.

  ‘In Innsbruck?’ Leeburg asked.

  ‘Breg
enz,’ Kurtz explained, ‘but I get about a lot.’

  ‘That’s where he picks up his bits of extras,’ Kaufman whispered secretively.

  But Kurtz wasn’t secretive. ‘There is black market and smuggling going on all the time,’ he remarked. ‘For those who are prepared to take the risks.’

  Again there was a general grunt of agreement at his remark, but if he had thrown it out for possible recruits he was wasting his time, Leeburg thought. They were not clever enough, or cute enough, for that sort of thing. They were simple people, basically honest.

  For no reason at all Leeburg found himself looking at Muller. Muller gave him a grin. He was the possible exception, Leeburg thought. Muller would be prepared to get involved. Not for personal gains, but because he was weak and wanted to please those he thought superior to himself. Like he had with Reitzer.

  Kurtz ordered more beer. The rest seemed content to let him pay, but he that pays the piper calls the tune. Whenever Kurtz spoke they all listened. Not that he spoke often. He let them relive their war experiences and watched them slowly become intoxicated. But he had his own views on the occupation and politics which he voiced.

  He also interceded on Leeburg’s behalf when Renner made a suggestive remark about Karl and Frieda.

  ‘What about your Karl?’ Renner asked. ‘Can he satisfy her?’

  Piesch laughed, so did some of the others. Renner was about to follow it up with some suitable suggestion, but Kurtz spoke first. ‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘Karl’s all right.’ It sounded like an order.

  Piesch stopped laughing and Kaufman hastily changed the subject. So he knew Karl, Leeburg thought, and wondered where they had met. He made a mental note to tackle Karl about it and returned to his beer. He wasn’t holding back and the beer was having its required effect. It dulled his mind to his own worries and filled him with a false sense of security and courage.

  As the night wore on they became more intoxicated and more volatile. All except Kurtz, and yet he kept pace with their drinking.

  Gruber and Renner were the first to leave. Kaufman went to see them on their way and Leeburg found himself alone with Kurtz. The other three were deep in conversation. It was almost as if Kurtz had been waiting for the opportunity.