by CW Hawes
There wasn’t any.
Karl looked at Dunyasha and I. “You ladies should probably sit this out too.”
“Not on your life,” Dunyasha said. “I want to get this thing and get the hell out of here.”
“I’ll go, Karl,” I said. “I’m not a combat hardened veteran, but I’ve seen enough and done enough I think I can be of help. And like Dunyasha, I want to get the fleece and go home.”
Karl didn’t like it. In the face of our determination, he acquiesced. “Very well. Team Alpha will be the roof team. Sergeant Sax, you and your men will be team Alpha.”
Sax nodded.
“Team Bravo will attempt to breach the rear entrance,” Karl said. “The members are Mr Branson, Mr Somers, Lady Bobrinsky, Lady Hurley-Drummond, and Mr Zholkov. Team Charlie will launch the attack on the front of the building. The members are myself, Mr Smith, Mr Shelsher, Doctor Franzen, and Ernest. Any questions?”
“Yes,” I said.
Karl indicated I should speak.
“I would like to know what Kit, Branson, and Sergeant Sax found at the site of Elmer’s and Private Denham’s deaths.”
Kit asked, “Anything in particular you are looking for, Dru?”
“Yes. I suspect Doctor Franzen is a Nazi spy and I think he may have made up a significant portion of his story. I’d like to know if you found anything to corroborate my hypothesis.”
“As a matter of fact,” Kit said, “I found a 9mm shell casing and it isn’t a Makarov. It’s a 9mm Luger. I didn’t see any other brass.”
Sax said, “Both men were shot in the back and my guess is from a fairly close distance. Denham through the heart and Pond in the neck.”
Everyone was quiet. The implication was clear. A non-Soviet pistol cartridge and shot in the back meant the killer probably wasn’t a Soviet soldier. An execution style shooting would have been most likely in the head.
“I think we should search Franzen,” Sax said.
“If he has half a brain, Lyndon, he won’t have the gun on him,” Brandon said.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Sax conceded.
“Even if he did,” Dunyasha said, “we don’t have a forensics lab to prove the bullet came from his gun. The evidence is damning, but I don’t think we can convict him.”
“I think you are right, Lady Bobrinsky,” Karl said. “My team will have him and I will discreetly suggest he not be positioned behind any of us.”
“Perhaps Ernest can watch him,” I suggested.
“Perhaps the robot can at that,” Karl said. “I’ll discuss the possibility with Mr Shelsher. I needn’t remind any of you that this part of our mission is going to be highly dangerous. Be careful, all of you, and don’t be heroes. The fleece isn’t worth it.”
Our meeting was over. We joined the others and Karl sent Mafeking and Corporal Hill to get Dorman and Ernest. The remainder of us decided to get some rest.
Dunyasha and I found a corner, settled into it, and went to sleep. Before I drifted off, I found myself thinking on Karl’s words: “Don’t be heroes. The fleece isn’t worth it.” Three of our group had already died. Dunyasha and I had almost been kidnapped and he seemed to agree Franzen was probably a spy and had to be watched. I know Karl. I think he has come to the conclusion there might be limits to devotion.
Twenty-Three
Gas
Kutaisi, Georgia
Wednesday, 21 April 1954
Three or four minutes into today, had anyone been on the street to see it, they would have witnessed the strangest sight. A large lorry being towed by a weird looking tractor. A seven foot tall cylinder mounted on caterpillar tracks. Corporal Hill’s ruse was quite ingenious. People might question the make and model of the tractor, the illusion, however, effectively hid what Ernest really was. Especially since people would undoubtedly find the truth even more difficult to believe than the fiction. As Der Führer said, if you’re going to lie, tell a big one.
Because the earliest Argo would be back to pick us up was the twenty-fifth, four days from now, Karl decided to use today and tomorrow for observation and planning. That decision met with the approval of Sergeant Sax and Kit Somers. Dunyasha, on the other hand, felt we should strike right away before someone else grabbed the fleece. In the end, Karl opted for the more conservative course. So the twenty-third was set as the date we’d make our move. The time would depend on information our observations provided.
The three new teams would conduct the surveillance, each taking an eight hour shift. Alpha team started at midnight. Bravo team took over at eight in the morning. Rain started to fall a little after sunrise. By the time we relieved Alpha team, I was quite wet. In fact, it looked as though we all were. Our focus was on looking for a pattern in the activity that went on at the rear entrance to the President’s home and offices.
Our observations revealed two guards were routinely posted by the door. If a lorry appeared to unload supplies and merchandise, and twice that happened, up to a dozen more guards appeared. The regular guards were changed every four hours.
Sometime before noon we became aware of the distant “thud” of artillery fire. Dunyasha was of the opinion the Italians were getting ready for an offensive. The flurry of activity on the part of the Georgians, lorries and automobiles heading west out of the city, seemed to confirm her thought. If what Dunyasha surmised was true, fewer soldiers might make capturing the fleece easier.
The afternoon dragged on. I was cold and wet. Well, we all were. The situation was miserable. The light rain had not let up. All day long it had fallen. The artillery fire hadn’t let up either; although the exodus from the city had, at least from our part. The five of us rotated through the various observation posts we’d established which allowed for a fresh set of eyes to glean information we hoped would be of value to our part of the mission. Hopefully what one person maybe missed, another would catch.
The time was approaching for our relief to arrive when air raid sirens began screaming, followed very quickly by Italian aircraft. I could see the bombs falling and the ground began shaking with the explosions. Then the Georgians started yelling a single word over and over. Peter Zholkov, heedless of revealing our presence, began yelling, “Gas!” in English. He was on the street. Dunyasha and I were on the roof of the building across the street from where the fleece was. Kit and Branson were on the roof of one of the buildings next to the vacant lots behind the provisional government’s offices.
I turned to Dunyasha, “Oh, my God. Just like in the Italo-Yugoslav War.”
“Time to get the hell out of here,” she replied.
Bombs continued to explode. Italian fighters began strafing runs. Thank goodness the rain would help neutralize the impact of the gas by washing it from the air.
We ran down the building’s fire escape. On the street, Dunyasha and I began running towards the Hall Media offices. Since they are near the airport, we figured we’d be safest there. We were counting on the Italians not bombing the airport, hoping to use it once they had secured its capture. The GLA didn’t have any aircraft to speak of.
People were running and screaming everywhere. An Italian fighter was coming in. The machine guns started firing, a white light touched it, and the plane went silent. It slammed into a building and exploded.
“Looks like Ernest woke up,” Dunyasha said. “I’m going to have to give him a big kiss.”
The bombers and fighters flew off. However, in the distance, we saw four large planes flying in. Behind us yellow clouds revealed the gas’s presence. We ran on to Hall Media. The four planes were growing larger. Then we saw paratroopers jumping out of the lead plane. A beam of white light. The second plane dived towards the ground. We heard the explosion. The third plane began a wide turn. It was heading back. The fourth also began turning, following the other pilot’s lead.
Italian paratroopers were on the ground, though, ahead of us.
“They were probably going to secure the airport,” Dunyasha said.
�
��It will be difficult to do that now,” I replied.
“It will. However, those men who made it to the ground will be desperate. Which makes them very dangerous.”
As we drew near the office, we heard gunfire. Dunyasha and I got off the street, taking cover in a doorway. Right behind us was Peter Zholkov.
“Afternoon, ladies,” he said.
We replied in kind.
He continued, “Once again, it looks as though Mr Smith’s toy has saved the day for the Georgians and us.”
“Looks that way,” I said.
Kit and Branson were rushing by and Dunyasha called their names. They joined us.
“I’d say we’re in a war zone,” Kit quipped.
“You just figure this out?” Dunyasha shot back.
Kit was nonplussed. “No, I didn’t. Been thinking they’re going to need cars when this is over and–”
Dunyasha and I cut him off, “You’re going to sell them Grahams.”
“Something like that,” he said. She and I burst out laughing. Zholkov and Branson, not having the advantage of our inside joke, had puzzled looks on their faces. For their benefit, we gave them a quick explanation of Kit and his mission to sell Graham autos to the Soviets last year.
The gunfire seemed to be lessening. “Perhaps we should try to reach the office,” I suggested.
“I agree,” Branson said.
We took off at a trot. When we reached the building housing the offices, we saw Alpha team had set up a perimeter in case any of the fighting spilled over to the area where the office was located. None had. The Georgians had contained it to the area west of us.
Team Charlie had just gotten back ahead of us. They had turned around at the beginning of the bombardment. The poison gas, even with the rain washing it out of the air, would impede surveillance for awhile. If any was encountered on the ground, it could still possibly cause problems. Depending, of course, on the kind the Italians had used. In their war with Ethiopia and Yugoslavia they had used mustard gas, which can cause irritation upon contact on any surface where it might be found.
Once again, we were all back at Hall Media. Malz had secured some additional clothing and we who were soaking wet from the rain got first pick. I found a blouse and slacks that looked like they’d fit and headed for the WC to change.
Before I got there I heard Malz announce that the Czarists, with German support, had just taken Tiflis. I thought of Leiprecht and wondered what on earth was going on. Who were the Germans actually supporting in all of this?
Twenty-Four
So Up The Stairs We Climbed
Kutaisi, Georgia
Night into Day
Wednesday, 21 April, and Thursday, 22 April 1954
After supper, we settled in for the night. With Ernest standing guard at the front of the building, we decided a pair of sentries at the rear of the building would be sufficient. Sax and Milano took first watch. Hill and Ajax took second. The rest of us tried to get some sleep. The floor, though, can be quite hard. Karl decided he could be seen with me. Maybe because things were beginning to look as though we might not make it home. We found a corner and snuggled. I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder.
During the night, Zholkov and Stanley Baum, the Hall Media guard, reconnoitered the area to see what the Georgian Liberation Army was doing in the aftermath of the gas attack.
With sunrise, Team Alpha went out to conduct surveillance of our target. Zholkov and Baum reported the GLA had no tools to clean up from a mustard attack. Thanks to Mother Nature their problem was solved by the heavy rain which fell during a portion of the night. A heavy rain is the best solution to diluting and destroying a persistent agent like mustard. Sax thought his team would be safe.
When the team had departed, I asked Karl, “What do they use the old church for?”
“The Georgians?” He replied.
I nodded.
“The provisional parliament is supposed to meet at the church. Why do you ask?”
“Just that we’ve focused our attention on the two houses and not factored in the church.”
“It’s never come up. The provisional government commandeered the building, according to our sources, and doesn’t seem to use it. Or hasn’t as of yet. The provisional parliament hasn’t met, as I understand it.”
“Maybe we ought to check it out,” I said.
Karl was thoughtful. “Yes, Dru, I think you are right.”
“You, Dunyasha, Kit, and I could go. Snoop around a little.”
He smiled. “Snoop?” He gave me a kiss on the forehead. “I don’t think both of us should go.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
“Dru, we’re the leaders of this expedition. If we both went and–”
I finished the sentence for him, “Something happened to us, then the expedition would be finished. At least Mr Hall’s chance to get the fleece.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll be glad when we can get those assignments again where it is just you and I reporting on an event or interviewing a person. I’m tired of being with you and not being with you.”
“You aren’t the only one, Dru.”
I looked into his eyes. “You mean that, Karl?”
“Yes, I do.”
I kissed his cheek.
“And I have eyes, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dunyasha. She’s more than a friend, isn’t she?”
“She wants our relationship to be more than friends. I’ve told her I’m committed to you.”
Karl held me and said, “I wish I’d met you first.”
“Me, too.”
A shadow fell across us. I looked up and there was Dunyasha.
“Are you love birds going to sit there all day?”
“Lady Bobrinsky, did you sleep well?” Karl asked.
Dunyasha took the cigarette holder from her mouth and burst out laughing. “You are a regular comedian, Karl. While you two were all cozy, Branson and I decided to reconnoiter that old church building the government took over. The one that seems to be empty.”
Karl and I looked at each other. Huh. Great minds and all that. I said to Dunyasha, “Karl and I were just talking about the church.”
“While you were talking and playing kissy face, some of us were actually getting on with the mission,” she shot back.
Nonplussed, Karl asked, “Did you find anything?”
“Something is going on there. The building isn’t empty.”
“But you don’t know what,” Karl said.
“No. We came back here to report.”
“Would you and Mr Branson mind going back to explore further?”
“No. I’d like it if you could spare your partner to come with us.”
I could see Karl wasn’t too pleased with the request. I said, “You sure you want me along? Might just be trouble for you.”
Dunyasha chuckled, “You are trouble no matter where you are at or what you are doing. Yes, I’d like an intrepid reporter along. We can use your nose to find the best way to sneak into the place.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said.
“You are welcome,” Dunyasha replied. “I’ll get Branson, while you two un-pretzel yourselves.”
“We weren’t en-pretzeled,” I said.
Dunyasha just snickered and went off to find Branson.
I kissed Karl and made him promise we’d get en-pretzeled when this was over. He laughed and said he thought the Baroness and I had just created two new words for something which we already had dozens. I shrugged and said it never hurts to have a few more. Variety, spice, life, and all.
He stood and helped me to my feet. I went after Dunyasha and he started checking in with everyone.
With a bite of breakfast under our belts, we took off for the former church which was supposed to serve as the parliament building for the provisional republic of Georgia. As noted previously, the church is a block from the two palatial city houses the government took over for off
ices and residence for the president. No guards surrounded the church building.
The three of us were standing across the street from the front door.
Branson said, “I’m going to check if the door is still locked. If it is, I’ll go around back and you can follow me. If the door is open, I’ll go in. If the coast is clear, I’ll motion for you to follow me.”
Dunyasha and I both asked him to be careful, to which he responded that careful was his middle name.
The building was made of stone, had a couple towers, and stained glass windows. With all the fighting, I was surprised to see the windows still intact. The double wooden doors in front looked solid and heavy. We watched Branson try to open them. Apparently, they were locked. He motioned for us to follow as he moved around to the back of the church. We checked to see if anyone was around. We saw no one and crossed the street. Branson was rounding the rear corner when we reached the front and we watched him disappear behind the building. We followed, hugging the wall just in case there were eyes on the place.
The back of the church was quite plain, although there was a large circular stained glass window high above the double heavy wooden doors. These doors were also locked.
“Okay Mr Jack-of-all-trades,” Dunyasha said, “how do you propose we get in?”
Branson looked around and we followed his gaze. The church was in the middle of a small park. No buildings were close by. There were trees, plenty of them. Our Man Friday had a thoughtful look on his face. He then motioned for us to stand back. Out from under his coat came his STEN gun. He pulled back the cocking lever and shot out the lock. From where we stood, there wasn’t much of a noise. Thank God for the suppressor. What it sounded like on the inside, though, we didn’t know. The bullets hitting metal and wood might have woken the dead.
With a smile on his face, he pushed open the door and entered the former church. In a moment he was back and motioned for us to join him, which we did.