Kat's Rats

by Michael Beals

  “Leck mich am Arsch, sir.” Trufflefoot spun on his heels and rejoined the rest of the condemned prisoners.

  “That seems to be everyone’s attitude tonight.” Rommel grinned at the Englishman, his smile slipping when Captain Sparmann opened his mouth.

  “You see what I mean, sir? They don’t deserve—”

  “Of course… I feel tempted to give the Gestapo the middle finger as well, but that’s ungentlemanly. No, I’ll have to settle for the next best thing.” Rommel snapped his fingers and turned his back on the SS Officer as a tall, rakishly handsome Wehrmacht Captain marched forward and stood at parade rest.

  “Captain Stauffenberg, I want you to escort our guests personally to 2nd Brigade’s headquarters at Alam el Halfa. There’s a local ceasefire to collect the wounded in no-man’s land starting in half an hour. See to it these gentlemen…” Rommel didn’t flinch as he locked eyes with the redhead, who hissed back like a coral snake. “…and the lady make it home safe. If anyone in the SS interferes, kill every one of those stormtroopers. We’ll blame it on the Aussies here.”

  “Sofort!”

  As Sparmann flapped his mouth and sputtered, Stauffenberg reached for his holster. The young Gestapo Officer ground his teeth and stormed off, his henchmen racing to catch up.

  Trufflefoot snagged Kat’s wrist as she took advantage of the distraction and slid something long and sharp from one of her endless hidey holes. She growled as Dore came up and wrapped a protective arm around her. With an extra tight grip.

  “Let me go! Don’t you see it’s a trick? They call him the Fox for a reason.”

  Trufflefoot stuck his chin up and nodded. “General, I appreciate your generosity. But it doesn’t change our mission. We’re still coming back for you another day.”

  Rommel crossed his arms and laughed, shocking even Kat. “No doubt some of your Comrades will, but you won’t. I’m releasing you all only on your personal parole, my dear Colonel.”

  Trufflefoot flinched as if slapped. “You bastard.”

  “You have no idea. You are responsible for ensuring your team here never raises arms against me again. Oh, I’m sure they’ll be happy to ignore that promise. If they do, you and only you are responsible for what happens to them. In this life and the next.” Rommel flicked tired eyes over the wounded LRDG men climbing into a supply truck.

  “Wouldn’t you say you have enough on your conscious already? It’s a big war. Worldwide, so I’ve heard. Find somewhere else to cause a fuss. If your people are ever spotted again in Libya or Egypt, I will let the Gestapo keep them as playthings.”

  “I’ve never seen a bunch of paroled prisoners look so pissed-off before.” Stauffenberg twisted around in the Command car’s front seat as they bounced over dunes. “I think the General was too lenient. I can’t imagine a group of assassins honoring any parole.”

  Trufflefoot muttered to himself and eyed the empty machine-gun mount over his head. Kat turned her ire on the handsomely smug Kraut up front, cocking her hand like a pistol and aiming at the Iron Cross around Stauffenberg’s neck.

  “What do you know about honor? What did you get that for? Massacring Jews or sucking Hitler’s Schwanz?”

  “I’m not a Goddamn NAZI!” Stauffenberg took a breath as Kat cocked her head. “No more than you’re an aristocrat for serving the King of England.” He chopped his hand at her and squirmed in his seat.

  “Politics aside, I don’t understand why you thought killing Rommel would make such a difference. He’s only one man. The Herr is more than the sum of its parts.”

  “Don’t give me that crap.” Kat slid between the driver and Captain Stauffenberg, flicking her wrist with a groan. “The Afrika Korps is just a cult of personality. Same way as all of NAZI Germany slavers over Hitler. Kill the idol, kill the church.”

  Stauffenberg punched his knee and stuck a finger against her chest. “Shut your damn mouth! Don’t you ever compare a Prussian noble to that psychotic, inbred Austrian rabble-rouser!”

  Kat blinked, a luscious grin breaking out as the Captain seethed. “Case in point. If only someone could take out that piece of Scheiße in Berlin, imagine how quickly we could end this war.”

  Stauffenberg waved his hand with a dismissive snort. His forehead dipped ever so slightly down, “would only make things worse. If we lost him, God knows how you people would take advantage of the chaos.”

  “Nonsense. You can bet your ass the Allies would negotiate a surrender with whoever took over—at least as long as Germany still had some strength. If you people wait another year or so, when we’re already at the gates of Berlin, then you’re out of luck.”

  “It’s not that simple. You can’t just shut a war off that easy; not one as big as this. We’re in a struggle for survival here. Germany needs a strong leader… no matter how much he keeps screwing things up.”

  Kat purred and slid closer. “Screwing up? That’s cute. A bit over a year ago the Reich was sitting pretty, lording fat and happy all over West Europe. The UK was on its last legs. The Soviet Union was your ally, and America twiddled their thumbs. Now what? The Russians are chewing up whole divisions every day, all while US planes carpet bomb your lovely fräuleins.”

  Kat bumped elbows with the dashing young Officer, rested her chin on his shoulder and reached down to trace a finger over his scratched wedding ring.

  “How big is your family? You think you’re protecting them? You’re taking the coward’s way out and leaving your loved ones in real danger. A soldier can surrender when things get too hot. But all your children can do is huddle in a dank basement, crying for daddy, while waiting for the inevitable direct hit from some 500 pounder. Won’t you be a hero then, eh? When you come home to bury the ashes of your kids—”

  Stauffenberg roared and snatched Kat by the hair, jerking her into the front seat before anyone could react. Dore shot to his feet as the German clenched his fist and reared back.

  Kat wagged her free hand at Dore and laughed up in Stauffenberg’s red face. “Go ahead. Beat me. Kill a prisoner. I know you’re no different than Hitler. Show the rest of them how all Germans are the same Schweine.”

  “Ah!!!” He let her go and pounded a dent into the steel dash instead, then took a raggedy breath before twisting around.

  “You’re just as bad as the Gestapo, with your twisted mind games. I’m sure you and the Oberführer would have gotten along just fine.”

  Kat’s smug confidence slipped as her face clouded. She bared her teeth and fished something out of her bra. “Speaking of which, the SS did a poor job searching us. I guess they were too focused on the executions.” She tapped her hidden weapon against his shoulder as Stauffenberg stared straight ahead.

  “What do I care? You bastards will be home soon.”

  “And what about the bastard back in your homeland?” Kat rapped the pencil detonator against his shoulder even harder until the man finally flicked an eyebrow up in surprise.

  “Just what am I supposed to do with that?”

  “Keep it out of the wrong hands, I suppose. Silent and reliable acid detonator with a ten-minute delay, stick this in any explosive, pinch the end here with pliers and you could be a mile away before it went off. I mean, this is state of the art, Captain. Standard issue for the Special Operations Branch. Can you imagine the hell a madman could cause with this little thing? With the right target, this itty-bitty toy could change the world.”

  The teenaged driver didn’t speak a lick of English and frowned at the girl’s cooing. Stauffenberg slipped the detonator in his coat with strained ease.

  “Indeed. Can’t be too careful. Lot of evil men out there.” He stuck out his hand as the Command car pulled up between two idling panzers. One of
the tankers fired a trio of white flares in the air. Seconds later, the British troops responded with the same star cluster, a few hundred yards away. A line of German stretcher-bearers darted towards the flares, carting off a score of wounded Allied boys. They brought back only two of their own.

  Kat pumped the Captain’s hand and patted his forearm. “True evil is when good men do nothing to stop mundane barbarism. Believe it or not, I once had a chance to kill the Fuhrer.”

  She punched the Command car’s sidewall. “Just don’t repeat my mistake. Whatever happens, no half-measures. You understand? Take care, Captain. Hope our paths cross again.”

  The girl bounded out of the car and skipped into the darkness, whistling a jazzy tune. Stauffenberg picked his jaw off the ground and grinned for the first time all night.

  “God, I hope not.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Night of The Long Knives

  Munich, June 1934

  "Where are you going now, Obersturmführer?”

  Pernass grunted at the high-pitched squeal above as he gave his bootlace a final tug, then he reached over to the gas lamp and cranked it up. No point in sneaking around now.

  The teenage girl at the top of the stairs clutched her nightgown tight, stomping her foot while she scowled — all a perfect imitation of the same pissed-off angel pout her mother used to master.

  “Katelyn, for the millionth time, call me papa. Or at least Detlef.”

  The scrawny redhead bounded down the steps. With both ferocious hands on her tiny hips, she glowered up at the man.

  “My real papa never came back from Verdun. You’re just the warden that tricked mum into leaving England and gave us a life sentence in this damn Krautland!”

  Her spittle shot even farther than usual. “Besides, you stopped being a man when you joined those NAZI Schwein. So what else am I supposed to call you—other than a bastard? How can you possibly help them after what they did to mother?”

  Pernass’s cheek twitched. Kat could only gawk as his granite Prussian façade cracked and he wrapped her in his arms, stroking her hair, as she fought to remain rigid.

  “Schatzi, I ache for her too, but it’s been three years. The NAZIs didn’t make her go to the market during the riots. Blame those soulless SA Brownshirts and the old commy-cuddling Government. Anarchy caught her in the crossfire, not the Party. A breakdown in order killed her, but by God, this new Fuhrer and I are going to reestablish discipline at any cost! You’ll be safe, no matter what.”

  Sobbing, Kat leaned into his embrace. Before she could say a word, tires screeched to a halt outside. Pernass shoved her back and whipped out a Luger from his belt. With his other hand, he slipped the hilt of a well-worn, yet scalpel-sharp Shanghai stiletto into her hand.

  “I was saving this for your sweet sixteen… Well, you remember what I taught you about putting it to proper use?”

  Pernass edged to the side of the door and stuck his barrel against the eyehole as someone pounded on the outside.

  A squeaky yet cheerful whisper floated through the oak barrier. “Pernass! We have to speed up the timeline. Things are moving too fast.”

  Keeping his gun up, he cracked the door a few inches. Two fidgety and well-armed SS troopers wavered on his doorstep, scanning the dawn’s shadows on the street. Between them stood a Skeletor man, sporting a fancy civilian suit instead of a uniform. He pried off his hat and cracked a sadistic smile. Pernass dropped his weapon and sneered.

  “What the hell did you do, Goebbels? We were supposed to meet at the hotel and take the whole SA leadership in one fell swoop.”

  “Too late. The Fuhrer flew down a couple of hours ago, right after hearing about the Brownshirt rampage last night. Let’s just say, his patience is at an end. These thugs are worse than the Jews. We even caught one of Röhm’s Captains in bed with a male subordinate!”

  Goebbels dabbed a handkerchief at a dark red stain on his coat sleeve and cackled. “Anyway, Röhm and the local police chief are out of the picture. For good. The rest of his men will figure that out soon enough. The Putsch has already begun, so let’s strike while the iron’s hot. Our favorite Bohemian Corporal has been gushing all night over your Operation Hummingbird proposal. I realize we’re pulling the trigger early, but...” Goebbels narrowed the lifeless black slits on each side of his hooked nose. “For both our sakes, don’t tell me there’s a problem now.”

  Pernass glared over the creepy gnome’s shoulder at the first rays of dawn glittering across the city. “No, we can still pull off the roundup, even if we start in daylight. Safe to say we still have the element of surprise since even I didn’t know Hitler was in town. I’ll need more men.”

  “Whatever you require.” Goebbels took a step inside the house, uninvited, and jerked a thumb at a small motorcade of Mercedes rounding the corner. “Because the boss wants to chat with you right now, and he’s not in the mood for excuses. Mind if I wash up?”

  Pernass holstered his weapon and straightened his tie. He snapped a long-arm salute at the entourage storming his door while whispering over his shoulder. “Darling, please put some coffee on, if you don’t mind.”

  Kat vanished into the kitchen. Hyperventilating, she could barely hear the new crowd of men laughing and conspiring in the parlor over her own breath. With a trembling hand, she cracked the kitchen door a tad and peeked across the foyer into the dining room.

  Pernass and several men in smart suits huddled over the main table. A dozen more armed fellows with swastikas on their armbands hovered around the room and entranceway, smoking and joking.

  A middle-aged, refined gentleman with slick hair rapped the city map strewn across the table, slashing his forehead down in his choppy version of a nod. Every man went quiet as he barked orders in a high-pitched Austrian accent. As he paced about, the politico’s ever-darting gaze caught the girl in the next room. The dour man offered Kat a forced, curt smile in the brief moment his beady eyes locked onto her.

  Kat gasped and slunk back inside the kitchen.

  While the coffeepot simmered, Kat’s heart boomed in time with each drip-drop. She clutched the sink counter and squinted at her mother’s portrait hanging by the window.

  For the first time in years, no tears blurred her vision. Through the boiling cauldron of emotions warring for her soul, something flashed out and gripped her by the throat.

  With a wink at her mother’s picture, she bent down and threw open the cabinet below the sink. Snagging the old box in the back, Kat spooned three tablespoons of powder into an empty coffee mug—triple the recommended dose, according to the instructions on the rat poison.

  She dumped in as much sugar and filled what little space was left with fresh coffee. Giving the concoction a quick stir, Kat snagged a saucer before spinning around and marching through the door.

  “May I offer you some coffee, Reichskanzler?”

  She glanced up from the floor after a moment. None of the men paid any attention to her. Kat opened her dry throat a second time. Again, the words only echoed in her brain. She couldn’t speak. Her mouth refused to utter a sound.

  After a minute, Hitler tugged at his toothbrush mustache and nodded. “Excellent work, Obersturmführer. I couldn’t have planned it better myself.” He clapped Pernass on the back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Why don’t you come up to Berlin when we’re done with the executions? I have some big plans for the future, and you’re just the man to lead the program... Ah, is that for me? Danke schön.”

  The Fuhrer snaked a hand towards the cup Kat wobbled at arm’s length. The girl refused to make eye contact with him, nor any of the other armed men squinting at her. For the first time since entering the room, she released her pent-up breath while h
er rocking hands sloshed scalding coffee over her delicate fingers.

  Hitler grinned and tugged at the cup. It didn’t budge from her white-knuckled grasp. “Relax, Fräulein. I won’t bite. Ask anyone; I’m a gentle soul.”

  The whole room erupted in laughter, except for Pernass. He frowned and narrowed his eyes at Kat. Under his piercing glare, the last of her nerves deserted her.

  She dropped the coffee, shattering it on the floor and splashing the Fuhrer’s boots.

  “I’m so sorry!” Stifling tears, Kat fell to her knees and snatched up the pieces.

  Hitler chuckled and squeezed Pernass’s elbow as he dashed over. “No matter. There’s plenty of coffee at the police station. Let’s get started, shall we? You and Goebbels ride with me.”

  Twenty hours and a tear-soaked pillow later, Kat finally emerged from her room, for the last time.

  “Bye, Mama. You rest in peace here. I’m heading back home to England.” She gave the portrait in the kitchen one final kiss before cracking open the front door.

  “Damn!” Kat blanched at a shadow leaning against an Evergreen across the street. She tried to slam the door shut, but it only bounced off her suitcase. Before she could get the leather satchel out of the way, the trenchcoated man stubbed out his cigarette and tipped his hat at her. Sticking both hands in his pockets, he crossed the cobblestone road, sauntering straight for the house.

  Kat slammed and locked the door. She leaned against it long enough to catch her breath. She snagged her suitcase and darted to the back patio.

  Fumbling around in the dark, she trampled the well-kept orchids in the garden on her way to the back fence. Pernass didn’t have the green thumb her mother had. However, he still weeded her mum’s old flower bed religiously. She stopped only to chuck her luggage over the wooden wall.

  Hiking up her ankle-length skirt, the lithe young thing bounded over the fence with ease. She landed on her knees in the small alley-like path between her fence and the neighbor’s walled garden. Her groping fingers touched the suitcase in the dark, just as it flicked away from her grasp.