The Fallen Eagles

by Geoffrey Davison

  Leeburg watched him and waited. When Schmid came back inside the hut, he returned to the matter he had raised the previous evening.

  ‘The route for Schlappin is in that direction,’ he said, pointing to where the small hamlet would be.

  ‘Our orders are not to leave before ten o’clock,’ Leeburg pointed out, evading the issue. ‘If we make a move sooner we may be observed from some other position.’

  ‘I can wait,’ Schmid said.

  Again the strained atmosphere hung heavy inside their confined quarters.

  As the time approached for them to leave, Leeburg wondered if perhaps Karl had been mistaken. They placed their anoraks in the rucksack and put on their black pullovers.

  It was as Leeburg was fastening the rucksack that Schmid made his move. When Leeburg looked up he saw the muzzle of a Luger pointing at him! Behind it was the smiling face of Schmid. Leeburg felt an immediate surge of relief. To have helped Schmid escape would have been another cross for him to carry. Now he was in a position to free himself of Schmid.

  ‘This is as far as you go,’ Schmid said and squeezed the trigger. He wasn’t prolonging the situation. But he had failed to check that it was still loaded. Leeburg knew that it wasn’t. He had emptied it during their first night on the mountains. As the trigger gave a dull, metallic click, Leeburg pounced. He hit Schmid full and square on the jaw just as Schmid’s face was registering its surprise at the failure of the Luger to produce its desired effect.

  The force of Leeburg’s blow sent Schmid reeling back against the wall of the hut, but Leeburg wasn’t finished. His pent-up resentment came bursting out like a breached dam. He lashed into Schmid with the fury of a lion. The German never recovered from the first rain of hammer like blows, and it was only his unfortunate position against the wall of the hut that kept him at the receiving end of Leeburg’s fury.

  Finally, he collapsed to the floor, his face badly bruised and bleeding. Leeburg stood over him breathing heavily. Whatever happened, he thought, Schmid wasn’t to be allowed to escape. But he was in no position to hand him over to the authorities.

  He studied the figure lying unconscious on the floor and decided that Schmid had to remain where he was. Quickly, he removed the German’s boots and tied them to his own rucksack. He then sent Schmid’s skis down the side of the mountain to disappear out of sight.

  Satisfied that Schmid was now a prisoner of the hut, he put on his anorak again and set off down the mountain. When he came to the edge of a forward slope, he got an unobstructed view of the area. Beneath him, at the junction of the valleys, was the town of Klisters spreading over the flat plain and touching the wooded slopes of the mountains. To his immediate right was the Madrisahorn, sparkling and glistening in the morning sun, and wherever he looked he could see the snow white peaks of the mountains.

  For a while he admired the scenery and then continued with his run, traversing the steep slopes and zigzagging his way towards the trees. Well before he reached his objective, he saw a snake-like party of skiers climbing towards him. He saw the red jersey of the leading skier and knew it would be Eiger, but he didn’t stop. He made a wide traverse and skied away from them.

  When he reached the edge of the trees he rested and looked back. The climbing party had also stopped and the leading skier was looking in his direction. Leeburg wondered what he would do. Return to Schlappin to warn his friends, or go up to the hut? Leeburg didn’t wait to find out. He entered the trees and joined the track which led to the village. But he hadn’t forgotten about the Doctor’s house. When he came to a farm clearing he again stopped to take stock of his surroundings. He had to find out where the former Hotel Schweizerhof was located.

  As he stood wondering in which direction to go, he saw a party of soldiers resting in an open field above the village. There were four of them, and they all carried packs and rifles as if they were returning from a border patrol — or going on one! Leeburg watched them with interest. After a short while he saw them move off — up the mountain!

  He glanced back towards the peak, now hidden by the trees. Somewhere up there Schmid would be licking his wounds and wondering what to do. Perhaps now the soldiers would solve the matter for him. At least it got rid of one of his problems, Leeburg thought. He turned to move back into the woods and saw the farmer. He went over to where he was standing and asked him the whereabouts of the former Hotel Schweizerhof.

  The farmer looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face. ‘Schweizerhof,’ he grunted thoughtfully, and then his face relaxed. ‘You mean the Maria Theresia Hospital,’ he said.

  Hospital! It was something Leeburg had not expected. Could Reitzer be hiding in a hospital? Could he perhaps even be a patient? Had Karl been mistaken? Was the farmer correct?

  ‘Hospital?’ Leeburg asked. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ the farmer replied firmly. ‘That is what the hotel is now.’

  ‘Where is this hospital?’ Leeburg asked.

  ‘In Klisters on the road to Platz, next to the Hotel Splendid. You can’t miss it.’

  Platz. Leeburg knew the town. It was close to Klisters. The farmer started to move away. Leeburg hurriedly asked him a further question. ‘Can I get to Klisters by keeping to the woods?’ he asked. He wanted to avoid going into Schlappin or the valley.

  ‘You can go as far as Dore,’ the farmer replied. ‘But it’s not the quickest or best route.’

  Leeburg thanked him. So long as he was not in the open it was the best route for him, but he would have to be quick. Schmid’s reception committee would soon be getting anxious. He wondered whether that would also include Reitzer.

  Keeping as close to the trees as possible, Leeburg made his way up the valley. When it opened out at the town, he crossed over to the other side of the valley. As he did so, he saw another party of soldiers grouped around a bend in the road. Why? he wondered.

  He studied the ground more closely. There was another group just outside the town. Were they on manoeuvres? Or had they been prewarned about Reinhard’s attempt, to enter their country? Could they be on the lookout for Schmid? If they were, then what about Leeburg’s own position? He had no passport, he was also an illegal entrant. But who could distinguish him from any of the other tourists who were on the slopes and who filled the towns? Only possibly some of Schmid’s friends. They would be on the lookout for him.

  He looked again at the small groups of soldiers and thought it would be just as well to give them a miss. Keeping close to the trees he skirted the town until he was forced to come out into the open. Fortunately it was at a busy nursery slope and one extra skier made no impression.

  At the foot of the slope was a small private hotel. He took off his skis and added them to the other pairs which were stacked alongside the building. After a casual look about him to see that no one was taking any interest in his movements, he hurried along the road to Platz. He located the Hotel Splendid first and then the hospital. It was set back from the road in its own ground. A signboard displayed its name, ‘The Maria Theresia Private Hospital.’ A pair of iron gates opened on to a drive which disappeared into the trees. On one of the gates was the name of the former hotel, hidden behind a coat of black paint.

  Leeburg could feel the excitement rising inside him as he followed the winding driveway through the trees and saw the hospital building. Was Erich Reitzer really inside this building? he wondered. He climbed the four steps up to the entrance door and cautiously entered the foyer. He found himself in a large, marble paved hall, with dark wall panelling, and was immediately struck by the silence. He walked into the centre of the hallway.

  ‘Good morning,’ a voice said quietly, a woman’s voice.

  Leeburg swung around and looked straight into the face of a nun.

  ‘Good morning,’ the nun said again. Leeburg saw that she was also a nursing sister.

  ‘Good morning, sister,’ he replied in a subdued voice.

  The sister stood looking at him, a gentle smile on her face
.

  ‘I have been asked by some people to visit one of their friends,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Although I am not really sure whether he is one of your patients or not.’

  The sister smiled patiently. ‘What is this person’s name?’ she asked.

  Leeburg frowned. If Reitzer was hiding in the hospital would he be using his own name? ‘I’m not really sure what name he will be using,’ he mumbled apologetically. ‘It could be Reitzer, or Gunter.’

  ‘We have no Reitzer or Gunter,’ the sister replied patiently.

  Leeburg sighed. What was his next move?

  ‘But I recall the name Gunter,’ the sister added brightly. ‘They brought a patient to the hospital over two years ago. A man, but his name is not Reitzer, it is Hestler.’

  ‘Is he still here?’ Leeburg asked hopefully.

  ‘Yes,’ the sister replied.

  ‘May I see him, please,’ Leeburg pleaded. ‘It could be the man I want to talk with.’

  The sister’s face clouded over. ‘I am afraid it will not be possible to talk with Herr Hestler,’ she said.

  ‘Please,’ Leeburg pleaded. ‘Let me see him. It is very important.’

  The sister looked uncertain.

  ‘I have come a long way and waited a long time to meet this man. Please let me see him, Sister.’

  The sister silently bowed her head. ‘As you wish,’ she whispered. She turned and floated towards a nearby corridor, her hands lost in the wide sleeves of her cloak. Leeburg followed behind. This man had to be Reitzer, he thought. He just had to be. There couldn’t be many Gunters who would bring a man to this hospital. A hospital close to their own estate and only a mountain away from Frau Reitzer. It must be him.

  The sister stopped outside a door, hesitated, and placed her hand on the handle. Leeburg came up beside her.

  ‘Sister!’ a voice called out — a man’s voice, authoritative, but not offensive.

  Leeburg turned and saw a stern-faced man in a white coat come out of a room.

  ‘Yes, Doctor?’ the sister asked.

  The Doctor beckoned her over to him. The sister excused herself. Leeburg watched anxiously as they held a whispered conversation. Behind the door was the man who he hoped was going to help him turn the clock back to that fateful day in 1944. The man who could put his mind at rest. Nothing was going to stop him going into that room — nothing? He saw the Doctor nod his head and come towards him. His face still looked stern.

  ‘You are a friend of Herr Gunter?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Leeburg replied. ‘I have known him for many years.’

  ‘And Herr Hestler?’

  Leeburg didn’t try to evade the question. ‘I do not know a Herr Hestler,’ he said truthfully, ‘but I believe he is the man I was asked to visit. I think he may have changed his identity.’

  ‘Why should he do that?’ the Doctor asked, his eyes watching Leeburg closely.

  ‘That I cannot say,’ Leeburg replied, ‘but it might be because he is not Swiss.’

  ‘Are you?’ the Doctor asked pointedly.

  Leeburg returned the Doctor’s penetrating look, unflinchingly. ‘Does it matter?’ he asked.

  ‘I only wonder what your business is with Herr Hestler.’

  ‘I believe this man can help me. I was advised to visit him.’

  ‘Have you any means of identification?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How will this man help you?’

  ‘He can tell me something about my past which I have forgotten.’

  The Doctor gave him a surprised look. ‘I am afraid you have wasted your time,’ he said and swung around on his heels.

  Leeburg watched him walk away, puzzled by his final remark. The sister came up to him, and opened the door. She stood to one side and beckoned him to enter the room. It was a dark room with long, heavy draped curtains over the window. In one corner was an iron framed bed with a side table. In the centre of the room was a high-backed, easy chair. A square of carpet covered only part of the floor, and the only relief on the dark, cream painted walls and ceilings was a crucifix above the head of the bed.

  Hesitantly, Leeburg entered the room, the sister followed him. He looked for Hestler, but it wasn’t until the sister walked over to the high-backed chair that he realized there was anyone sitting in it. With a mixed feeling of excitement and anxiety he joined her, and looked straight into the eyes of Erich Reitzer!

  But it was not the Erich Reitzer he had known. Sitting there was a half burned, mentally defective cripple! Leeburg felt as if someone had kicked him in the pit of his stomach. One side of Reitzer’s face was a burned mass of red tissue. His mouth hung open and dripped saliva on to his dressing gown. But it was his eyes which held Leeburg’s attention. They were still a clear pale blue, but they were glazed, stary eyes, as if they were not seeing anything! Leeburg looked at the sister. She saw the horrified expression on his face.

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘He is also blind.’

  ‘My God!’ Leeburg said aghast. The nun didn’t rebuke him. She had become accustomed to such expressions. The hospital was filled with people like Herr Hestler.

  ‘Can he talk?’ Leeburg whispered.

  She shook her head. ‘Occasionally he will say something. A word which is probably connected with his youth or childhood, but he doesn’t talk.’

  ‘And will he know that we are here?’

  ‘No,’ the sister said patiently. ‘It will not register with him. He is in another world.’

  Leeburg glanced down at the pathetic figure again. Reitzer, the man who had been prepared to conquer the world, to fight his way around Europe. Reitzer the leader, the murderer! Reitzer the man who had scorned Leeburg for his weaknesses. Reitzer — now the wreck, the simpleton. My God! Leeburg thought. What a way to end up. Why didn’t they put him out of his misery? Why keep him alive?

  He saw the nun looking at him and he felt a deep admiration for her, but it didn’t alter his views on the need to keep Reitzer alive. He had, at least, earned his right to die!

  The sister touched his arm and led him out of the room.

  ‘I hadn’t realized he was so bad,’ Leeburg said. He felt himself trembling slightly. He hadn’t got over the shock.

  ‘I thought you knew,’ the sister said gently. ‘They are all bad cases that come here.’

  ‘How did it happen?’ Leeburg asked as they walked along the corridor. ‘I understood that he had reached Lugano safely.’

  ‘He was involved in a motor accident in the mountains. The car ran off the road. Herr Hestler was burned by the exploding petrol.’

  So he had escaped the war, only to be mutilated in a motor accident, Leeburg thought.

  ‘Who was with him?’ he asked.

  ‘Another two men, but they miraculously escaped.’

  Two men! Leeburg wondered. The Inspector had mentioned three fountains of truth. Were these the other two? ‘Who were they, Sister?’ he asked and before she had time to reply added. ‘Do you know where I can find them?’

  ‘I am sorry, but I cannot help you,’ she replied. ‘Herr Hestler came to us from the hospital in Interlaken. He was brought by Herr Gunter and his wife.’

  Interlaken! That was many kilometres away, Leeburg thought, and he had little money. ‘Who visits Herr Hestler?’ he asked.

  ‘Frau Gunter comes once a month,’ the sister replied.

  ‘When is she due?’ he asked eagerly.

  ‘She visited Herr Hestler last week.’

  Blast, Leeburg thought. Suddenly everything was going against him. Reitzer was no longer able to help him. No one was, except perhaps the other two men. That was if the Inspector was telling the truth. But that meant backtracking from the records at the hospital in Interlaken, and even that could prove a fruitless trail. His only hope was Reitzer’s sister, Frau Gunter. He knew their estate in Klisters. There was a possibility that she may even be living there.

  They came to the entrance hall. Through a half-opened door, Leeburg caught a gli
mpse of the Doctor. He was talking on the telephone. Leeburg heard the word, Sergeant, and immediately became suspicious. The Doctor had been very interested in the reason for his visit, and in his identity. Had he been prewarned to expect a visitor? Was he phoning the police?

  Leeburg felt a sudden urge to get away from the hospital as quickly as possible. He turned to the sister and thanked her for her help. She bowed her head in acknowledgement. He left her in the hallway and hurried out of the building and along the driveway. He was bewildered and lost. He had built his hopes on Reitzer, but he had built them on a sandcastle which had been washed away in a matter of seconds. Now he understood why Frau Reitzer had been so casual about her son’s return, and why the authorities had failed to bring Reitzer to account for the deeds at the Villa Lucciano. Reitzer was no longer a man to reckon with; he was no longer a man. As for Leeburg’s own position. He scornfully laughed out aloud. There was to be no escape.

  ‘Leeburg!’

  The unexpectedness of his name being called out took him by surprise. He stopped abruptly in his tracks and saw the saloon car, and the man who had called his name. He was a big, grim-faced man, and there was a gun in his hand! Leeburg cursed himself for having walked blindly out of the driveway on to the road. One of the car doors opened.

  ‘In here,’ the man ordered pointing his revolver to the open door.

  It was then that Leeburg saw that there were two other men in the car. One behind the driving wheel, the other in the rear passenger seat. As his brain flashed him a message telling him to run for it, that he had an even chance of escape, the figure in the rear seat moved forward and Leeburg recognized the face. It was Lieutenant Schroeder!

  The man with the revolver came closer and Leeburg had lost his opportunity to make a break for it. But Leeburg had also lost his own desire to run. At the sight of the former Nazi Political Officer sitting in the car, Leeburg knew who the Inspector had been referring to with his other fountains of truth. He knew now who had been responsible for the theft of the pictures; who had helped Reitzer escape into Switzerland; who would be part of any organization to help high ranking Nazis to escape from justice. Schroeder, the fanatic. Schroeder the die-hard Nazi. And the driver would be Hauser, his faithful servant.