by Eddy Shah
He opened his eyes slightly.
Curly Top sat watching him from a chair, a mischievous grin on his face.
'Welcome to Dresden,' he said in English, the accent heavy but clear. When Adam didn't respond, he scraped the chair back and stood up. 'I know you can hear me. I can either kick you hard or you can open your eyes and save the hurt. It's up to you.' As he spoke he moved menacingly forward.
No point, Marcus. I need the strength for later. Adam opened his eyes and looked up at Curly Top.
'Good. We understand each other. We're both professionals,' stated Kaas.
Adam didn't reply, was more concerned about working out where he was being held. His hands were behind his back and he felt the sharp metallic bite of the handcuffs on his wrists. His feet were unshackled; he still had his shoes on.
The room was of medium size, a bare room, probably an attic. The snowclad tops of the trees outside the window confirmed that. Where the hell was Billie? He suddenly realised she could've died, that something awful could have taken place before he passed out.
Kaas turned and walked to the door, pulled it open and shouted in German. 'Get Kragan.'
Adam lay still as Kaas came back and sat in the chair once again. Where was Billie?
Kaas stretched his right foot out and prodded Adam's thigh with it, grinning as he did so. Adam jerked his leg back as the pain seared up his muscled. They must've kicked him very hard for it to be so tender.
'So, Englishman. Mister Nicholson. Adam Nicholson. You are a famous person now.' As he spoke, Kaas pulled a newspaper from his jacket pocket and held up its front page for Adam to see. He looked at his own face staring back, with Billie's face next to it. The headline in German screamed 'SEARCH FOR MURDER SUSPECTS'.
'Where is she?' Adam asked Curly Top.
'Your girlfriend? In good hands.' The German grinned as he put the paper back in his pocket. 'You like being famous, Mr Adam Nicholson. Your photograph is also on television. All this...such a famous person, and no-one to ask for your autograph.'
As Curly Top laughed, Adam saw the door open and Kragan enter. Curly Top stood up as his superior came into the room.
'Has he said anything?' asked Kragan in German.
'Only wanted to know where the girl was.'
'Good.' Kragan knelt down in front of Adam and looked at him as a butcher would appraise a cut of meat. 'We know you speak German, Mr Nicholson,' he said, still in German.
Adam didn't respond, just stared warily at Kragan.
‘The girl is in good hands. Our young men's hands. She will be enjoyed by them. No doubt she will also enjoy herself with the best of our manhood.' Kragan continued in German, but saw no change in the Englishman, no sign of recognition, no flicker of anxiety. He stood up and turned to Kaas. 'I don't know. Maybe he understands, maybe he doesn't. But it'll take more than a few bruises to soften him up. I want five storm troopers to give that girl the time of her life. And I mean all together. When he sees her, I want him to know they've fucked her in every hole she's got. Everywhere. His bruises aren't going to hurt him, make sure the ones on her will.'
'Okay.' Kaas left the room.
Adam kept his silence and cursed his helplessness. If he allowed them to know he understood German, it would've made little difference. They just wanted to break him and would use any means available. Get the hands free, Marcus. Sit it out until I've got my hands free. Oh, Billie. I must've been crazy to let you come with me.
'Where is she?' Adam heard himself ask Kragan.
'Miss Knutsford. That's no matter.' Kragan answered in English. 'Who else knows you are here?'
'What're you talking about? Why should...?' He stopped and gritted his teeth as Kragan lashed out at him, punching him sharply in the ribs.
'You know what I'm talking about,' Kragan shouted. Who else knows?'
'I said, I...'
Kragan smacked him again, this time open palmed across his cheek. Then he jabbed him in the ribs again. Three more times, harder and more furious with each blow. Then Kragan kicked him in the stomach and as Adam doubled forward, he kneed him in the cheek, sending him sprawling backwards, banging his head against the wall. Before he could recover, Kragan punched him sharply, twice, in the ribs again. The pain seared through Adam, almost sending him into unconsciousness once again.
'Who else knows?' repeated Kragan coolly.
'I don't...shit, I don't know...'
'The pain you feel now is nothing to what the others will do. Why are you here? We know you were in America together. That the Americans called you in to protect our friend Heinrich Trimmler. Do you know who killed him. Hey?'
'I don't know.'
'Did you kill him? Is that why you ran away? With the girl.' He waited for Adam to answer, but nothing was forthcoming. He jabbed the Englishman twice in the ribs again, watched him fight to control the pain, watched his victim's eyes drift back into focus. 'Why come after Albert Goodenache? Why did he die?'
'I don't know.'
'The newspaper says you are a British soldier. That the girl is an American agent. That you were in Nordhausen when poor Albert was killed. Why?'
Come on, Marcus. If it's not these chaps, then who? Who's fucking responsible for all that's been going on.
'Where's the girl?' he asked again.
'Who else knows?' Once again, then the repeated jabs to Adam's ribs. Then the question once again as the pain subsided. 'Who else knows?'
Behind Kragan, Adam saw Kaas come back into the room. He realised he hadn't been anywhere, that it had been a trick they played on him to see if he spoke German. So she was all right. He had to believe that. He couldn't afford to believe otherwise.
'Where's the girl?'
Kragan swung round in disgust. 'I didn't tell you to come back,' he barked at Kaas in German.
'You won't get anywhere like that,' replied Kaas. 'This boy's been in the wars. He's no soft...'
'Then you find out what's going on. I don't care how. Just get it done.'
Kragan stormed out of the small room as Kaas crossed over to Adam.
'He doesn't understand, Mr Nicholson.' He chuckled. 'It it takes more than a few bruises, and a few kicks, to make people like us talk. eh?'
Adam didn't respond. He saw the psychotic in Curly Top, saw the arrogance of the bully paraded before him. We're in for a rough time, Marcus. This guy doesn't do it for anything but fun.
Kaas leant forward and dragged Adam to his feet as he yelled for the guards to come in and help him. Adam didn't struggle; no point in wasting energy when all he'd get for his efforts would be a clip round the ear. He had to wait, keep patient until a time for action presented itself. There was always such an instance. The key was in recognising it, not letting the moment pass.
'Our men will soon get the truth out of him,' reported Kragan.
'You've had long enough,' Frick retorted sharply, the anxiety in his voice obvious. 'We have to find out what these people are up to. I don't want any more time being wasted on this shit. There is no more time. We need to prepare ourselves. Our moment is here.'
They were in the big room on the second floor that served as Frick's office. It had once been the master bedroom and looked out on the woods to the east. Frick stared at the winter scene, the snow now falling heavily.
'Their pictures were spread all over the news bulletins. Pictures that could only have come from the Americans or British.' Kragan answered warily. Frick hated being contradicted and often flew into a rage when put in such a position.
This time Frick was thoughtful. 'Or the Russians. To embarrass the Americans. And to force us out into the open.'
'It's very possible, Fuhrer.'
'Are there any changes in Berlin?' asked Frick.
'Buhle says not.'
'I hope he keeps his mouth shut.'
'He's a newspaper man. He's used to secrets.' Kragan didn't add that he had never trusted the newspaper proprietor who sat on the Council. Not that he wasn't loyal to the cause, but because he
enjoyed his own sense of importance too much.
'He's also used to leaks,' stated Frick. 'But he's all we've got at the moment.'
'If there are any changes, I'm sure we'll find out in time. I think it's unlikely. These things are planned and rehearsed well ahead of schedule.'
'As long as no-one suspects. Just find out what the Englishman and his woman know. They could hold the key that saves us.'
Her fear had turned to anxiety, then to boredom and now to anger.
Billie had been roughly bundled by a group of storm troopers away from the burning car and into the Dresden Heidi. She remembered screaming, remembered one of the storm troopers punching her in the face to stop her. As they dragged her away from the flaming Audi, she had turned and seen Adam lying on the road, shielding himself. She had shouted out to them, 'Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him!' but it was lost in the general mêlée and then she was punched once again, this time harder and more painfully. She felt her top lip swell up as she tasted blood, and she said nothing more. She could only think of Adam and pray he would be all right.
They'd thrown her into a jeep and driven into the Heidi, through the woods, to a large wooden building hidden in the trees. They manhandled her out of the vehicle and through the front doors, down the corridor and into the small, windowless and empty room that had become her home for the last nine hours.
Nobody had visited her. Her only companion was the bright light that was set high in the wall and shielded behind a thick opaque glass cover with bars.
When the fear eased, she had banged on the locked wooden door, but there had been no response, apart from the laughter of the guards who were stationed on the other side.
There was no furniture in the room, just wooden slatted walls and a wooden blocked floor. It was uncomfortable, but the wood kept it from being cold.
She sat in a corner facing the door, her lip now hurting badly. She tried to imagine what Adam would have her do, how he would want her to handle herself. She worked hard at it, at bringing herself under control, at pushing the fear back.
Nine hours after she'd been bundled into the room, they unceremoniously dumped Adam in with her. The door was quickly opened and shut, and suddenly he was there with her.
His hair was matted to his scalp. His shirt had been ripped from his body and there were deep cuts across his back and under his arms. There were minute burn marks on his hands and on his shoulders. His trousers were still on, but the zip had been torn open, and there were few parts of his body that were not covered in bruises.
'Hi, Princess,' he said softly, his eyes warm through the puffiness of his swollen lids.
'Hi, tough guy.' She didn't know what else to say, she was horrified by what they had done to him.
He smiled. Then he passed out.
She rushed over to him, gathered him in her arms and held him to her. After some time, she lay him down on his back and checked his body. She found nothing broken and his breathing was regular. Then she licked his face, washed away some of the dirt and blood that spread across it, cooled the swelling round his eyes and cheeks. It seemed the natural thing to do.
With her tongue she tried to wash off the blood that covered him. It seemed to work; her saliva and dampness helped his body fight the damage.
She did that for half an hour and he only came round for a short time. She didn't catch what he said - his words too soft and indistinct - but his half grin told her it had smutty connotations. God knows what he thought in his dream world as he watched her licking his body.
The second time he came round, he suddenly pulled himself up into a sitting position. She could see him trying to concentrate, trying to control his mind and body, trying to focus. She moved away, left him in the corner of the room and stayed where he could see her clearly.
'No danger,' she said.
'Where are we?' He spoke painfully and slowly.
'Somewhere in their camp.' She cursed herself for stating the obvious, wished she had taken more note of where they had brought her. 'I'm sorry. I don't...' She stopped, her inadequacy confused with her compassion for him. He looked so vulnerable, so damaged.
'I'm all right.' He understood her feelings and tried to reassure her. 'Have you been here all the time?'
'Yes.'
'And nothing happened ?'
'Nothing. They just stuck me in here. I've seen no-one.'
He nodded, relieved that they had left her alone although he knew this thing had only just started.
'What sort of building is this?'
'How do you mean ?'
'Is it in a big complex?'
'No. It's in the trees.'
'Brick or wooden?'
'Wooden.'
'Like a big Swiss chalet?'
'Yes.'
'I know it.' He didn't tell her that they had brought him here unconscious after torturing him in the main building. He didn't tell her how they had beaten him with plastic tubes filled with sand so that he would hurt and bruise without breaking his bones. Or how they had inflicted cuts with a small sharp knife, then sprinkled salt into the wounds and kicked him round the room so he had to twist sharply and feel the pain of the salt crystals in the raw open flesh. They had hosed him down after that, then poured urine over him. The next time he awoke, they blistered the back of his hands with cigarette burns, but this time, mercifully, he had had passed out within ten minutes and didn't regain his senses for nearly two hours. Then they beat him with the pipes once again, but when they realised that he had managed to keep his secrets from them, that this small Englishman was not for talking, they turned on him in their fury and kicked and beat him until they feared they had killed him. Finally Kaas ordered his torturers to stop and they dragged Adam down to the wooden chalet and threw him in with Billie. Maybe that would soften the Englishman up, or give Kaas the opportunity to break the woman. It had been Frick's order that the girl should not be tortured. But now things were bound to change, once he found out that the Englishman hadn't been broken.
'They need to know why we are here,' Adam said. 'They seem as confused as we are. They don't seem to have any idea about who's behind these killings.'
'Do you believe them?'
'Got to. Why go through all this if they already have the answers. No, they need to keep us alive. Until they get their answers, anyway.'
'I won't be able to stand up to them like you, Adam.' She couldn't hide the fear that engulfed her.
'Take it easy, Billie. All we've got to think about is how to get out of here.'
'Adam ! How do you think...?'
'It's not my intention to stay cooped up in here, waiting for them to go on with their little games.'
She started to laugh.
'What's so funny?' he asked, hoping that her mood didn't suddenly break into hysteria.
But she continued, her laughter growing until her body started to shake with the force of it. He didn't react, just watched her with deep concern. After a while she brought herself under control.
'You're priceless,' she said.
'Why?'
'Because you're sitting there, all beat up, in a real mess, can't even stand up, let alone walk, and all you can talk about is getting out of here. You're some tough guy, my love.'
'We'll be out of here.' There was a certainty in his tone that surprised her. She felt his strength reach out to her. Damn it, if he believed it, then why shouldn't she?
He moved forward towards her and cupped her face in his hands. Then he kissed her softly; and they took the warmth of living from each other.
'They singed your hair,' he said.
'I thought you'd like it short.'
'Why's your lip cut?'
'Because I shouted at them. One of them slugged me to shut me up.'
'Big mouth.'
'Always was my problem.'
He held her for a while and they said nothing. Time was short and they needed each other's strength.
'Was Marcus with you?' she asked suddenly.
&n
bsp; 'You both were.' He didn't tell her how difficult it had been to withstand the pain they inflicted on him. He didn't tell her that he had been so worried about her that it had been hard to concentrate on sharing the hurt with Marcus, on blocking out the punishment they put him through.
Half an hour later the door clanged open and Kaas entered. He laughed when he saw them huddled together. But he was angry, having just been hauled over the coals by Kragan and Frick for not getting the Englishman to talk. He'd asked if he could work on the girl, but Frick had refused. If that ever got out, Frick was concerned about his public image. That was the difference between Kragan and Frick. Kragan would simply have done what was necessary. He would've found out what these two were up to by now.
'Pretty little lovebirds.' Kaas signalled two of the Stermabeitalung into the room. They moved past Kaas and grabbed Adam, wrenching him away from Billie. She screamed, but it had little effect, just added to the confusion that reigned in the room. Adam struggled, but he was too weak and the storm troopers tore his trousers off, leaving him stark naked. Then they held him down, flat on his back, as another Stermabeitalung poured a bucket of salt over the Englishman. It stuck to Adam's body, burnt into the jigsaw of cuts that had been carved into his body. Adam screamed, loud and violent, in his attempt to absorb the pain. The two storm troopers who pinned him down now rubbed the salt all over his body, massaging it into his skin, tearing the cuts wider as they did so.
Billie hurled herself at them, tried to push them away from Adam, but the storm-trooper with the bucket hit her across the head with it, sent her sprawling backwards across the room. He then knelt down, took out his small, sharp penknife and cut into the fleshy area between Adam's toes. He picked up what salt was left in the bucket and rubbed it between them.
Then the guards were gone.
Billie crawled over to Adam, who was still yelling loudly, and knelt next to him, waiting for him to bring himself under control. It was five minutes before he stopped yelling, before he started to absorb the terrible pain that burnt through his flesh.
Then she started to lick him again, slowly and deliberately, trying to absorb the salt from his wounds. She stemmed the flow of tears that came, knowing they would sting his body. With considerable difficulty, she tore a piece of cloth from her blouse and wetted it with her spittle. Slowly she worked on Adam's body. It would be a long task.