Kat and Die Wolfsschanze

by Michael Beals

  “That’s an excellent idea. How much money have we got, Sandro?”

  Following her gaze, Capetti said, “You want stay in that hotel?”

  “Why not? It’ll be a final break before Vienna. We could all have dinner together.”

  “What about Vienna? Isn’t hotel expecting you?”

  She thought about Fleming and the SOE, how dangerous they’d turned out to be. “Yes, it is. Which is why I’d rather not turn up today.”

  “You not trust hotel?” Capetti asked.

  “It’s complicated,” she said, afraid of voicing her fears.

  Not waiting for everyone to agree, she re-started the engine and drove slowly around the piazza, past the imposing statue of Garibaldi, past the cafés and the clutter of stalls selling trinkets and second-hand clothes. Making a mental note to visit the market, she pulled up in front of the hotel. The doorman did a double-take, either because he hadn’t expected the hotel’s clientele to drive Bentleys, or because they were wearing SS uniforms. Which raised a question, should Kat go into the hotel and book everyone in, or, having the highest SS rank, should Capetti?

  “We should all go in,” Capetti said when she posed the question. “You are my entourage.”

  “Shouldn’t someone watch the car?” Stewart asked. “Stealing’s a national pastime in Italy. We’ve got all our weapons in the trunk.”

  He shrugged. “This is Padova, not Rome. You carry your rifles. They say nothing.”

  As Capetti predicted, the Hotel Clerk barely glanced at their weapons when they checked in. The Hotel Clerk suggested they park the Bentley in the hotel’s car park. Dore remained silent throughout the whole procedure. When they’d checked into their rooms and met up again at a nearby café, he had a question.

  “Kat, can we talk about Vienna? Staying at the same hotel is a much better idea than three of us hiding out somewhere.”

  “What, you mean all of us booking into the Hotel Imperial?”

  “Of course. How can we protect you if we’re staying at a different hotel?”

  “The Imperial’s one of the most expensive hotels in Vienna and you and Harry have non-commissioned ranks. You’ll stand out like a wart on a Witches nose.”

  “So we buy civilian clothes,” he said. “We’ll tell the Imperial we’re high-level security and are traveling incognito. Our papers are all stamped in Berlin. They’re hardly gonna argue the point.” He smiled. “While you and Sam go off for your talk, we can all go shopping. I’ve always wanted a pair of Italian shoes.”

  “You’re the banker,” she said, turning to Capetti. “How much do we have in Italian Lira?”

  Pulling out the wallet that Gramigna gave him, he leafed through the thick wad of dog-eared banknotes. “We have enough. We splitting up?”

  “Only for a short while. If you need to find us, we’ll be walking by the river. You know, where all those statues are. Then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

  Promising to be no more than two hours, she shepherded Sam across the piazza towards the market stalls. With any luck, she might find an impressive necklace. The Italians became poor since the war started, and many of them sold off the family jewelry.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Kelly asked, catching up with her. “The SS isn’t very popular in Italy.”

  She laughed. “They’re not very popular anywhere.”

  “Exactly. Can’t we just walk? We need to discuss Vienna.”

  “I want to find something lovely that goes with the dress.” Stopping at a stall that sold trinkets and cheap watches, her eyes focused on a necklace with a blue, cut-glass pendant. “Is this really gold?” she asked, picking it up and peering at it.

  The stallholder cocked his head. He was a scruffily dressed elderly man with a short mustache and pot-belly, and Kat at once took a dislike to him. “Is pure gold with Sapphire stone,” he replied, rubbing his hands together as if cold.

  “Ya, and the moon’s made of cheese,” she said, holding it up to the light. “How much is it?”

  Clucking his tongue, he sucked in a lungful of air. “I sell you cheap for 20,000 lire.”

  “20,000 lire?” she hooted, handing it to Kelly. “What d’you reckon, Captain? Think that’s worth fifty dollars?”

  “It might be rolled gold,” he said, in German, “Offer him 5000 lire.”

  The stallholder threw up his hands. “5000 lire? Is impossible. Necklace belongs to Duchess.”

  Finally agreeing on 6000 lire, they left the market and headed for the river. The streets were eerily quiet. Every so often they passed small groups of Italian soldiers. Few people were shopping, and it occurred to Kat that it was mid-afternoon, the townspeople were sleeping. Making their way to the ancient piazza they’d noticed when they crossed the bridge, they sat down beneath one of the large statues that lined the river.

  “So,” Sam said, following Kat’s example by taking off his jacket and hooking it on a protruding stone foot, “Vienna. How are we going to play this? Even if my uncle doesn’t recognize you, he’ll certainly recognize me.”

  “So we don’t let him see us until we’re ready. The Imperial’s reception room is enormous. If we send Sandro in to scout the area, he can give us the all clear before we check-in. Then we wait for dinner. The best place to confront Pernass is in the dining room. We either sit down at his table if he’s alone, or we get one of the waiters to give him a message and meet him in the bar.”

  “We’d be trapped.”

  “No, we wouldn’t. He’s not going to do anything. He’ll want to know what the hell we’re up to, so he’ll box clever.”

  “Kat, think about it, every time you’ve come into contact with Pernass, either you’ve tried to kill him, or he’s tried to kill you. Why will this be any different?”

  “The war’s grinding to a stop. That’s why it’s different. If Pernass has organized a meeting of Generals, they won’t be just any Generals, they’ll be very specific, and if Commander Fleming knows about it, it’s because Pernass wants him to know, which means Pernass is up to something.”

  “Wait a minute. Are we going there to kill him… or not?”

  Taking off her cap, she tapped it against her knee. There was no point in being dishonest with Kelly. He was too clever. “I don’t know. We probably won’t know until we get there. If this were a normal situation, I’d recommend we find out where the meeting’s taking place, then go in as German Officers. But Fleming’s asked me to kill my stepfather, and that’s not normal.”

  “You can say that again. Have you been to this hotel before?”

  “No, but I researched it. It has the finest restaurant in all of Vienna, and it’s always full of wealthy people. I doubt if we’ll be the only nobility at the hotel. The place will be crawling with them. We’ll be tripping over all the Rolls Royce’s. Which is why Pernass probably won’t even notice us.” Picking up a pebble, she flipped it across the water. “Unless he already knows we’re coming.”

  “What! You think he really knows we’re coming?”

  She stared at him for a moment. “A little bird might have told him. A little bird who happens to be a double agent.”

  “Kat, what I said in the garden was only a suspicion. I didn’t really think Fleming would betray us, not after the Adler mission.”

  “Are you serious? The Adler mission may be why he might want to silence us, and the irony is that Pernass knows about that mission. Anyway, why are you acting so surprised? It was you who suggested Fleming might be trying to get rid of us. Remember your Snow White story?”

  He pulled a face. “I’m just warning you to be careful. I wasn’t expecting an out and out betrayal.”


  “Ya? Well, I am. It’s almost a family motto. Hope for the best, plan for the worst.”

  A group of German Officers strolled past, glancing at them with an uncomfortable amount of interest. In the warm afternoon sunshine, Kat not only rolled up her sleeves, and she’d loosened her tie. An absolute no-no in the SS. Removing their jackets was already bad enough.

  One of the Officers stopped and stared at them, causing the others to also stop. “What division are you with, soldier?”

  “Who wants to know?” Kelly said, dressing the man down with his eyes.

  “I do,” the Officer replied haughtily, waving a finger at his junior Lieutenant’s insignia as if he were a high-ranking Officer. “You’re out of uniform, soldier.”

  Taking a moment to scratch the back of his neck, Kelly picked up his jacket and unfolded it to reveal the Captain’s SS insignia. “Happy now… you impertinent little shit?”

  The man snapped to attention. “Apologies, sir! Just doing my duty!”

  “Well you’ve overstretched it. Now fuck off.”

  The Lieutenant saluted and moved away. The other men kept looking back, conspiratorially talking to each other as they walked. This would be reported, and it wouldn’t merely be about Kelly’s state of undress or even his offensive language, his German had a decidedly English twang to it.

  Straightening her tie and unrolling her sleeves, Kat grabbed her jacket and stood up. “That was unfortunate.”

  “You think they’ll report it?”

  “Of course they will,” she retorted, shrugging into her jacket and buttoning it up. “Your German has an English accent.”

  “It does? I thought my German accent was pretty good. Anyway, they’d have to be pretty small-minded.”

  “The Germans are small-minded. That’s not what’s worrying me. There’ve been a number of British operatives in Italy, and they often wear German uniforms.”

  They walked back to the hotel in silence. There were more Germans on the streets now. They even saw two SS Officers, and Kelly stiffened as they passed by. They’d waved a red rag at a bull, and it felt as if everyone was staring at them. The tension only eased when they reach the market and almost bumped into Dore. Dressed as an Italian businessman in a dark pinstriped suit, he examined a pair of shoes.

  “They don’t go with the suit,” Kat remarked, tapping him on the shoulder.

  “Oh, there you are,” he said, in surprise. “We wandered down to the river, but we couldn’t find you.”

  “We were sitting behind a statue. Why are you on your own? You don’t speak Italian.”

  He grinned. “Sandro needed a coffee, so I’ve been speaking in pidgin German.”

  Impossible to imagine Dore trying to speak German, she asked, “And they understood you?”

  “They did look a bit mystified. What do ya think of the suit?”

  She cast a critical eye over him. The last time she’d seen him in a suit was back in Casablanca. “It looks a bit tight.”

  “Ay. Shows off me muscles and makes me look like a respectable bodyguard.”

  She told him about the po-faced German Officer who Kelly insulted in his English accent, that it might mean trouble. Dore was skeptical.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. They’re not going to scour Padova because one SS Officer spoke with a funny accent.”

  “Well, I hope you’re right. The last thing we need is a confrontation with the Germans.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Kat felt her face flush when she walked into the breakfast room and found the whole team staring at her. After putting on the dress Gramigna bought for her, she’d spent over an hour doing her make-up and styling her hair, and even she’d been surprised at how sensational she looked. The team had only seen her in crumpled desert fatigues, or a NAZI uniform. She’d never looked in the least bit feminine, and they were shocked. Even Stewart’s mouth fell open.

  Rolling her eyes, she sat down. “It’s a dress, guys. You’ve never seen a woman in a dress?”

  They suddenly busied themselves, buttering bread, or stirring sugar into coffee, their eyes downcast as if they were afraid to look at her. Only Dore continued to stare. He had seen her all dressed up before in Casablanca, but it still made his heart flutter, to see how beautiful she could be all dressed up.

  “They’ve never seen you in a dress, Kat.” Reaching across, and patting her hand. “You look great, by the way.”

  “Thank you, Jock, you’re a dear.” Forcing a smile, she poured herself a coffee. “Why aren’t you in civilian clothes? We’ll be there in four hours.”

  “We’re going to change when we get closer to Vienna. If we get stopped for any reason, we’re better off in uniform.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” she said, looking around. “Has Sandro paid the hotel bill?”

  “Yup. It’s all done. We can leave when we’re ready. After what happened yesterday, we thought we’d make an early start.”

  Wondering if he was only being diplomatic, she studied his expression. “Why, are you worried as well?”

  “Ya, a little bit. If the Germans think there are British spies in the area, I doubt if they’ll sit on their hands.”

  She glanced at Dore as he stood up, rattling the car keys as he knocked back the dregs of his coffee. Now that she wore a dress, he took over the driving. His face showed concern, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. If the Germans set up checkpoints, he’d have to make a snap decision about whether to stop or make a run for it.

  Standing up, she walked with Kelly to the reception desk. Two Italian Officers were checking in to the hotel, but she ignored them. She was more concerned about Germans. Scanning the nearly deserted piazza through the open front doors, she breathed a sigh of relief. Nevertheless, they should be careful.

  “It might be an idea if we wait inside until Dore brings the car around,” she warned. “If the Germans are looking for us, at least we’ll minimize our exposure time.”

  Kelly nodded. “I’m really sorry about all this. I really should control my temper.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Sam. Once we’re clear of Padova, we should be okay.” Moments later, the Bentley pulled up outside, Dore looking formidable in his NAZI uniform, she glanced at Stewart and Capetti. “After you, guys. We’ll come out when you’re in the car.”

  “I think you worry for nothing,” Capetti said, as he headed out of the hotel.

  Nevertheless, Kat scanned the piazza again before walking outside. It seemed quiet enough. A group of Italian soldiers crossed the road, and stalls were being set up for another market day. There were no Germans in sight, so after a moment’s hesitation, they headed for the car.

  Climbing into the back, which felt strange after all the driving, she began to close the door when she saw a Mercedes German staff car followed by two Kübelwagens. The vehicles pulled into the piazza. She did a double-take when she saw the Officer Sam insulted. He sat in the back with a high-ranking SS Officer. She pushed back in her seat.

  “Sam!” she hissed. “Cover your face.”

  “It’s too late. He’s seen me.”

  She peered through the rear window. The Mercedes braked to a stop, and the young Officer gestured towards the Bentley. The SS Officer had a doubtful expression, and she could only imagine what he was thinking, or how likely foreign spies would be driving a Bentley? Nevertheless.

  “Jock, for God’s sake go,” she hissed. “But drive slowly, as if we’re not in a hurry. Follow the signs for Venezia.”

  “You want me to stay on the main road?”

  “It might be dangerous not to. The country lanes are so confusi
ng around here. We could end up back in Padova.”

  Pulling a mirror from her bag, she watched the Mercedes as they pulled away. As yet, it wasn’t moving. Maybe it didn’t need to, the Bentley would be hard to miss, and the Germans could easily radio ahead to close the roads. A truck pulled out in front of them, and another pulled out of a turning behind them. It might be only a coincidence, but she felt the tension eating into her. She needed to stay calm. Padova, which only yesterday seemed so beautiful, now felt claustrophobic and dangerous.

  They crossed a bridge. Soldiers in the back of the truck were staring at them. Maybe they were just fascinated by the beautiful Bentley.

  She calmed herself, watching the old buildings drift by in the luxurious comfort of the Bentley. The second truck turned off, and moments later, the truck in front of them turned into what looked like makeshift barracks. They were alone again, only old cars and the usual scooters zipping back and forth in front of them. The buildings were thinning out. They weren’t in the city anymore. In the next few minutes, they would leave Padova behind.

  “Ya can relax,” Dore said, twisting around and grinning at her. “No one’s following us. I mean, think about it. Are they really going to apprehend a bunch of SS Officers driving a Bentley?”

  “I know, it’s unlikely, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Can’t we take another route?”

  “We could head up to Treviso,” Kelly said, running a finger down the map. “It would take us through Udine, which is actually a better route to Vienna.”

  “Fine. Let’s go that way.”

  Kelly laughed. “Have you been reading Thomas Mann?”

  “Who the hell’s Thomas Mann?” she asked.

  “He wrote Death in Venice.”

  “Oh, haha. Do you know how to get to Treviso, Jock?”

  “I’m already on it, Kat. Stop worrying.”

  Twenty minutes later they were on a two-lane country road. On their left, a tractor harvested hay in a wide, sloping field, and on their right, vineyards stretched for as far as the eye could see. Kat breathed a sigh of relief. They were in the countryside again. They were safe. They drove through a small village, over a bridge that crossed a fast-running river, past ancient barns, shimmering in the morning sun. They were heading northeast. In less than an hour, they would be in Austria.