Kat and Die Wolfsschanze

by Michael Beals

  And then a shot rang out, and the wolf collapsed. Dore spun around. The shot hadn’t come from the team. Someone else fired it.

  “Stay calm English! We’re on your side!”

  One by one, a group of tough-looking men began to materialize from the depth of the forest, twenty of them, their swarthy faces glowing in the firelight. They were carrying Thompson machine guns, and English grenades clipped to their Sam Browns.

  The team went for their guns, Capetti even grabbed an MP40. The man who’d shot the wolf leaned his rifle against a tree. “We’re not your enemy, English.”

  Kat held up a hand to calm the team. “Who are you?”

  The man grinned. He wore an Army uniform, yet it was hard to judge his nationality. “We’re the Polish Resistance. I don’t need to ask you why you’re here.”

  “You’re Polish Resistance?” Kat exclaimed. “You’re still operating?”

  The man’s grin widened, and he gestured towards his men, who also grinned. “Oh yes, we’re still operating. There are only five of you?”

  “How did you know we were English? We’re wearing German uniforms.”

  “We heard your Scottish friend. Anyway, Germans never travel in small groups, especially around here.”

  “Well,” she said, smiling at him, “pull up a log. Our food won’t go very far with twenty of you, but you’re welcome to what we have.”

  The men moved in, chatting amiably as they cut off pieces of goose with their knives, and it wasn’t long before they were all laughing and joking. The leader’s name was Jakub, and his second in Command was Kacper. Kat explained that they were here to attack Hitler’s stronghold.

  Kat introduced the members of her team. Jakub introduced his men and told them they had been Polish Commandos when the war started and now, were a part of the Polish Resistance. The Polish fighters had never met someone from New Zealand.

  Kacper enquired, “we’ve worked with the British and Scottish, but we’ve never worked with the Kiwi. How are you people in battle?”

  Stewart eyed Kacper and grinned, “mate, I’m glad you asked that question.” Stewart sat back and continued, “I have fought the Germans most of the war in the Sahara Desert. I remember one epic battle I had against Rommel. I was behind a dune when I saw Rommel’s men coming my way. I was surrounded with no way out. So I yelled out over the dune,

  One Kiwi soldier is better than ten of Rommel’s fighters!

  Rommel was enraged at this cheek, so he sent his 10 best soldiers over the dune.

  A few shots were heard. When all was quiet there was no sign of the 10 fighters. I shouted out to Rommel again,

  One Kiwi soldier is better than 100 of Rommel’s fighters!

  Rommel enraged, sent 100 fighters over the dune. A firefight erupted. When all was quiet, there was no sign of Rommel’s fighters. Again, I shouted over the dune,

  One Kiwi soldier is better than 1,000 of Rommel’s fighters!

  Rommel, now livid, sent 1,000 fighters over the dune. A firefight lasting one hour ensued. When all was quiet, one dying fighter crawls back over the dune and into the arms of Rommel and says:

  Don't send any more fighters. It's a trap. There's two of them!

  Kacper slapped Stewart on the back in laughter, “if you fight as well as you tell jokes, you’ll be dead within minutes of attacking Hitler’s compound!”

  “You’ve come to kill Hitler?” Jakub asked, munching on a piece of goose. “Do you have any idea how large the compound is, and how well it’s defended? Hitler’s guarded by the RSD, which is really SS.”

  “Yes, I know,” Kat said. “The stupid thing is, the SOE doesn’t want us to kill him.”

  “They don’t? Wouldn’t it end the war?”

  She shook her head. “Apparently not. So we’re going to destroy the bunker.”

  Jakub snorted. “Then we came along just in time. You’d never do it on your own.”

  Kat stared at him. “You’re going to help us?

  “Of course we’re going to help you, but we’d need to plan it very carefully. We’ve been watching the bunker for the last two days. They rotate the guards like clockwork.”

  “You were going to kill Hitler?”

  “We were going to, but there was an explosion yesterday. We think one of his people tried to kill him.”

  She told him about Stauffenberg, how they’d met him in Vienna, that even Pernass thought he’d fail. Then they talked about tomorrow. If some of Jakub’s men could blow a hole in the fence at the back of the compound, the civilians could escape. Then they’d only have the RSD to deal with. They talked about weapons.

  “You have plastic explosives?

  “We certainly do… Fifty pounds of the stuff. We’ve even got two 10-Cap Blasting Machines,” Kat said proudly.

  “Perfect. If we time it accurately, we can use some of it to blow the fence at the back of the compound.”

  “How d’you mean, time it?”

  They discussed the details of the attack. If Kat could orchestrate the opening salvo, Jakub’s men could come in as a second wave. By the time they finished planning everything, it neared midnight, and the goose was nothing but bones.

  CHAPTER 30

  "Careful, you buffoons! You’re juggling ten years of research in your animal paws!”

  The Asian sailors dragged an icebox out of the submarine’s hatch, none paying any attention to the pedantic Prussian whining in the dark above them. The gaunt German pacing around on the pier lit a fresh cigarette with the cherry of the one already in his mouth. He shoved both hands in his fur-lined lab coat pockets and screamed against the biting east wind as the sailors tossed the white box on the dock. Without a word, they disappeared below deck and slammed the hatch shut behind them.

  “Where are the rest of the samples? Shirō Ishii gave me his personal guarantee!”

  The German waved his fist at the sailors slipping back inside the Sentoku type submarine, but only a lone shadow climbed out of the conning tower in response. The stranger sucked in a deep breath, not even flinching as the wind bathed the island in the busy crematorium’s putrid smoke cloud.

  Muttering obscenities, the older Kraut on the dock plugged his nose with old cigarette butts, blocking some of the rancid stink of scorched human hair and fat from the hospital. He kept cursing under his breath while cracking the box’s lid open. He bit down on his cigarette while shining a flashlight inside.

  “One vial? What type of exchange is this? I sent you people everything we had!”

  He flicked his eyes up as a leather jackboot kicked the icebox shut. Tracing his eyes up the tall man’s trench coat, he crushed the cigarette in half and scorched his lips when he reached the skull and crossbones grinning back from the stranger’s black cap.

  “Forget all the rest, Doctor Blome. This is the only sample that matters. We’ll need 100 liters synthesized by next month. Put all your other projects on the back burner.”

  The doctor skittered backwards on his butt, stopping only when his back dangled over open water.

  “You… You’re dead!”

  the SS ghost leaned over Dr. Blome, offering a well-callused hand. “Aren’t we all?”

  After a good ten seconds of coughing, the doctor gave a high-pitched cackle and seized his hand. “I guess the devil doesn’t want the competition.”

  He steadied himself while avoiding the Gestapo man’s shark eyes. “So I take it the shoot on sight order for your head has been rescinded? Does this mean that Operation Jörmungandr is back on, Oberführer?”

  “Yes, assuming you can be ready in time. And can handle this project w
ith the utmost discretion.”

  “God help us.” Blome fumbled with a fresh cigarette, lighting the wrong end on the first try. “Are things really that bad at the front? I can’t believe even Hitler would be so...” Blome bit his tongue as the Oberführer cocked a dark eyebrow his way.

  “But, of course, that’s none of my business. He wouldn’t have sent you if it wasn’t serious…” The doctor peeked inside the box again, his hand freezing from something other than the ice, “wait… this isn’t a vaccine.”

  “No. That’s a new agent. At least new to this millennium.” A tight smile creased the Gestapo legend’s scowl while he stared off into the bay. He returned a lazy salute from the Japanese Captain as the Sentoku type submarine cast off. “Be careful. This is rare and nasty stuff, even by your standards.”

  “Oh, please, Pernass. We’re not amateurs.” Blome readjusted the butts in his nose and nodded at the furnace chimney. “For example, we just conducted a successful field test with that crazy fever strain out of the Congo. the one that makes subjects bleed out their eyes…”

  Oberführer Pernass chopped his hand in the air. “I was more worried about procuring another sample. I had to perform some unsavory favors for some rather unforgiving people just to acquire this batch.”

  Dr. Blome opened then snapped his mouth shut. “Yes, um, perhaps better I don’t know the details. So, who has the vaccine? Is Himmler holding onto it, like usual? I’ll need to protect my key staff, of course, plus...”

  “No staff. No paperwork.” Pernass laid a frigid, iron hand on his shoulder while Blome tried to hide his trembling. “You will handle this personally and report only to me. Just do your part, and I’ll make sure you and your family receive the vaccine well before we strike.”

  Blome blinked until his eyelids seemed to run off the tracks. “So we don’t have protection, yet these untermensch Japanese friends of yours do? After all I’ve done for the Reich, you and the Führer know you can trust me.”

  “Trust is good, but control is better.” Pernass threw his full attention on the doctor’s bony face. “Or would you feel more comfortable if I brought the boss down here himself to reassure you? I’m on my way to see him now.”

  “That’s… unnecessary.” Blome waved both hands and scooped up the icebox, clutching it close to his chest. “Of course you can count on me. Sieg Heil!”

  “To the final victory.” Pernass bared his teeth and gave his best imitation of a grin. The doctor just coughed and slinked away. The Oberführer’s smile evaporated fast as he stalked across the dock and marched towards the small hospital’s well-fortified front gate.

  None of the guards made eye contact, nor risked a single breath as the ghost strolled across the bridge back to the mainland. At the far end, a black BMW hatchback idled alone. The driver popped out and stood at attention by the back door without opening it. He dropped his chin and flinched as headlights slashed through the night in every direction.

  “I’m sorry, sir. They followed me. I had no choice.” the young SS Captain kept his back to the headlights and stomping boots behind him. He flicked his eyes down at an MP40 buttstock peeking out of his coat, but Pernass just turned up his nose.

  “I hoped they would. Saves so much time.” Pernass clasped his hands behind his back as a dozen Wehrmacht soldiers stormed the bridge. The eagle-eyed infantrymen swarmed in a semi-circle around him, leveling their weapons on his bored face.

  A muscular, well-groomed officer strutted through the troops, dangling a pair of handcuffs and leg irons. Pernass snorted at the gaudy faux Roman war banner with the swastika patched on his arm. “No Gestapo this time? The Führer’s personal bodyguards? Well, I do appreciate the honor, Otto. I’m sure it must be painful for you to take Hitler’s Schwanz out of your mouth long enough to track me down. So let’s hurry up and get back to the Wolf’s Lair.”

  “That’s Colonel Remer to you, traitor!” Remer leapt at Pernass, spittle flying as he slammed a cuff down on Pernass’s wrist. “Though probably General soon enough, once I’ve figured out what you’ve been up to these last four months. You will never set foot inside the compound again. We have other camps for snakes like you. I can’t wait to put your boogieman reputation to the test. Even the strongest sing after...”

  Remer grunted as Pernass’s hands slipped around the swinging cuff arms and seized the chain. He could only grasp as a swift knee to the crotch spilled him to the ground, the cuff chains clinching around his neck on the way down. While Remer gurgled and clutched at the choke hold with both hands, Pernass whipped out his Luger and rapped the hilt against his temple.

  A dozen submachine gun safeties clicked off at once. Pernass just clucked his tongue and dropped the unconscious Colonel. He scratched his chin, and absently tapped the gun against his thigh.

  “If I’m still breathing, that must mean the Führer gave strict orders to take me alive. Or else your lives are forfeit, I suppose? So I’ll give you one chance to do this the easy way. I’ll allow you to escort me to the Wolf’s Lair, but that’s the only stop we’re making.”

  Two troopers rushed him from each side without a word. Pernass flicked the pistol up, blowing out both their kneecaps. No one fired back, but none ran away either.

  “Oh, where’s the no fun in this?” Pernass chucked the weapon at the nearest whimpering boy clutching his leg. He ripped off his trench coat and the medal-studded field jacket underneath, the coat crumbling in a pile with his golden Nahkampfspange badge glinting on top.

  “Who feels like earning one of those?”

  All ten of the remaining troopers shuffled about for a brief second, still hesitating as Pernass charged the nearest soldier.

  “Enough! If you have such a death wish, I’ll take you to Himmler. But I’ll cut you down if you come within a hundred meters of the Führer, orders be damned.”

  Twelve hours later, Remer breezed through the third and last checkpoint ringing the Wolf’s Lair. He shoved his Luger against Pernass’s spine as the older man climbed out of the Mercedes and took a step towards the towering bunker complex.

  “Oh no, you’re not allowed in there anymore.” Remer jerked his head towards a simple cabin near the edge of the perimeter. “I can’t believe the Reichsführer is even willing to meet our most wanted traitor. I guess he wants to pull the trigger himself. I bet…”

  “Shut up. You gossip like an old granny. Probably why the Führer sent me to do your job.” Pernass nodded at a cluster of briefcase-armed General Officers filing into the bunker’s entrance.

  “Is that General Busch? Right on schedule. Get your head out of your ass and search his assistant again. A young Captain by the name Buchbreiten. Fifty marks says you’ll find a palm pistol in his fake left boot heel.”

  “How the hell do you know that?” Remer lowered his gun and hissed.

  “Because I gave him the gun. Haven’t you figured out this is all way over your paygrade? Better hurry. He’s almost in the same room as your boss.”

  While Remer bolted for the concrete shelter, Pernass just shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled off towards the cabin. He weaved his way through the checkerboard of machine gun nests scattered around the woods. Ignoring all the shouting and scuffling behind him, Pernass tossed open the cabin’s door without knocking.

  The lone man inside glanced up from a giant scale model of some camp at the table and adjusted a miniature guard tower. He pushed his ridiculously old fashioned, free hanging Pince-nez glasses against his beady black eyes and wheezed.

  “Spare me your dark and mysterious routine. I have ears everywhere. The Führer sent you to infiltrate the Resistance. So what in God’s name were you doing on a Japanese submarine?”

  “The Reich’s business. Not yours. I stopped
the immediate threat against the boss, but I don’t trust anyone else. I report only to the Führer, by his orders.” Pernass chucked his skull and crossbones cap on the model, knocking over one of the many crematoriums.

  “Just go back to playing with your children’s toys, Heinrich. I’ll fix everything, as usual.”

  “Toy?” Himmler harrumphed and cooed over the grisly diorama. “I designed Auschwitz III from the ground up myself! It’ll be our most advanced and efficient camp yet.” Himmler straitened as Pernass snorted and helped himself to the liquor cabinet tucked in the lodge’s far corner.

  “And that’s Reichsführer to you, Oberführer. I’m still your boss. After that fiasco in Casablanca, I did you a favor by giving you a last chance to redeem yourself. So give me your damn report before I make you this camp’s first tenant.”

  Pernass just snickered at his whiny Bavarian accent. “Out of all Hitler’s ample fuck-ups, putting your slimy ass in charge of the SS has to be his biggest mistake. If I were still running the show, this war would be going quite different. We should have given the Jews uniforms instead of chucking them in your silly death camps.”

  “Jew loving…” Himmler puckered his lips, then narrowed his eyes. “You always were great at the distraction game. So why are you baiting me? Just what have you been up to for four months? Your mission should have taken two weeks. You do realize that no one besides the Führer and I know the shoot on sight order was a cover story, right? And I can assure you you’ll never speak to Adolf again.” Himmler reached under the table, confidence edging his skittery voice as he gripped something strapped underneath.

  Pernass drained his tumbler and plopped in a leather recliner, looping an arm over the back with a sigh. “Grow up, Heinrich. So Hitler has his own spies. Don’t be jealous. He’ll never replace you. No one kisses his ass, as sweetly as you can.”