Winter's Bullet

by William Osborne

  “Frau van Meegeren?”

  “Yes,” she said faintly, her face almost gray from fright at the vision of Krüger in his black uniform. She was blinking uncontrollably.

  “Oberst Krüger, Geheime Staatspolizei. I would very much like to speak to your husband; is he here?” Krüger knew he was: The house had been under observation since the early hours.

  The woman nodded and stepped back awkwardly. Krüger clicked his heels politely and stepped inside.

  “Upstairs, in the salon,” the woman said, waving weakly toward the staircase.

  “Thank you, Frau van Meegeren.”

  Tygo followed Krüger up the gilded staircase. The walls were hung with Old Masters, and on the landing polished sculptures and vases rested on side tables. It was as if the war wasn’t happening here. Certainly the place was cold, but there was an incredible smell too. Tygo tried to place it … bacon? Yes, the place smelled of bacon and coffee, or was it tobacco? It smelled wonderful, at any rate.

  Krüger marched straight into the large second-floor salon. It too was richly furnished, with leather and velvet-covered furniture, and thick Persian carpets on the polished elm floors. A middle-aged man was kneeling down in front of the fireplace, a poker in his hand. He turned at the sound of their entrance. His eyes registered surprise, but not fear. Tygo immediately recognized him as the man who had visited Krüger’s office the day before.

  “Well … good morning, Oberst, please come in.” Van Meegeren stood and reached for his pipe on the mantelpiece. “I have some fresh coffee if you would like?”

  “Perhaps later. First we talk; time is very much of the essence.”

  Van Meegeren nodded. “I understand then that yesterday’s search was unsuccessful?”

  “You understand correctly.”

  Van Meegeren sat down in a large comfortable-looking chair. “I’m sorry,” he said, but he didn’t sound it.

  Krüger sat opposite him.

  “Would you care for some food?” Van Meegeren indicated a tray on a side table, which held a coffeepot and some delicious-looking cookies.

  “No, I would not! This is not some tea party. I want answers, van Meegeren, or I will take you outside and shoot you in the street.”

  Tygo edged toward the table where the food was. He could see Krüger was deadly serious, and was glad he wasn’t the focus of his anger. Van Meegeren appeared to wilt from this threat, his face flushing and his air of calm deserting him.

  “Of course. Did you find the safe?”

  “Empty.”

  “Then it must still be with Löwenstein’s mistress.”

  “I have checked with our records department, with the local police. Everyone. There is no evidence this woman exists—no identity papers, nothing on the file.”

  “No evidence of her at the house?”

  Krüger shook his head.

  Tygo was by the table now. He glanced at the two men, but neither gave him a second look. Quickly he turned his back, folded up the linen napkin the cookies were sitting on, and popped it into his coat pocket.

  “Wait a minute,” van Meegeren suddenly exclaimed. “She had a daughter, a young girl.”

  At that Tygo spun around, and he knew van Meegeren had caught both the cookie theft and the look of surprise on his face. Tygo cursed himself inwardly.

  “She was about nine or ten at the start of the war. Pretty girl, what was her name … ? Began with a W, I think.”

  Krüger was nodding. “We will check.”

  Tygo could see that the art dealer was watching him carefully. He felt his cheeks coloring. Van Meegeren began to smile, and not in a good way.

  “Yes, check—the mother might have given her daughter the stone. Perhaps this young man can help you.”

  Krüger shot a look at Tygo.

  “What do you mean?” Tygo protested.

  “You know something.” Van Meegeren’s tone was mild, but Tygo felt his stomach turn over.

  “I do not!” Tygo said firmly. “I don’t know anything.”

  Van Meegeren shrugged. “I must be mistaken.” He looked back at Krüger. “I will make some inquiries immediately, Oberst.”

  “Be sure that you do.”

  Krüger got to his feet, and Tygo followed him out of the room. He glanced back at the doorway; van Meegeren was still sitting in his chair. He tapped his index finger against his nose and Tygo hurried out, deeply uneasy.

  Tygo tried to avoid Krüger’s glances on the way back to HQ. Thankfully, once there, the Oberst became focused on the imminent arrival of General Müller.

  When Müller did arrive just after midday, Tygo was amazed to see he was unaccompanied by any other officers. He was carrying a black attaché case, and Tygo thought he exuded a menacing sort of power, like the evil witches in fairy tales who made flowers shrivel and die as they passed.

  Krüger hurried out of his office and saluted him. “An honor, General.”

  Müller returned the salute and Krüger followed him inside. He flicked his hand at Tygo, indicating for him to get lost, then closed the door.

  Tygo sat on his chair for a moment. The head of the Gestapo was sitting not five yards from him. Something out of the ordinary was happening, that was for sure. Tygo got to his feet; he didn’t want to hang around, and Krüger would be busy with Müller for a while, so perhaps now would be an ideal time to go back to Willa. He had cookies after all.

  He started down the corridor, then stopped. He knew he was taking a risk but he wanted very badly to know what on earth was going on. He tiptoed back to the door, gingerly putting his ear to the doorjamb. Müller was in midsentence.

  “Herr Oberst, I am at a loss as to your failure; you have had six months to carry out the task I sent you here for. Where is this stone? Thousands of man-hours have been put into it to make sure every aspect of this operation is successful. It has more moving parts than the finest Swiss watch, and each one must work perfectly and precisely. One of those little pieces, one tiny cog … Yet all you have done, no doubt, is squirrel away some nuts for the winter for yourself!”

  “Herr General, I can assure you I have been searching for the stone night and day, without let-up; in fact only yesterday I was positive—”

  “The Red Queen is more than just a diamond. It is essential to the success of this mission. The Führer has given his word to the señorita.”

  “On the Führer’s life, I will find the stone.”

  So that was what Krüger had been looking for all these months: a single stone. Tygo had been right.

  “It must be in my hand in two days—by the geheime Flug on January fourteenth—or we won’t be speaking of the Führer’s life but of yours, Oberst Krüger.”

  “I understand, Herr General.” Tygo thought he could detect a note of fear in Krüger’s voice. It was not something he’d ever heard before.

  “Very well, I will move on to the other elements of the operation. First, the contents of this briefcase …”

  Tygo took this as his cue to hurry away down the corridor. Geheime Flug meant “secret flight.” And what was the promise made by the Führer? Something huge was going on, but what did it all mean? Tygo promised himself he would find out.

  Travel in daylight hours was relatively safe for Tygo, and after passing through a couple of checkpoints he made it back to the villa in good time. He unlocked the front door again, using his picks, and stepped inside.

  “Willa?” he called out confidently. “It’s me, Tygo. I’ve come back, like I said.”

  He waited in the hallway for her to respond. Nothing.

  “Willa?” Tygo was suddenly worried that maybe she was gone. That maybe he would never see her again. For some reason that mattered to him.

  “I’ve brought food for you …”

  There was a creak of a board from behind, and Tygo spun around. Willa was standing a couple of yards from him, still armed with the stair spindle.

  “Show me.”

  Tygo reached into his pocket and brought ou
t the folded napkin. He opened it in the palm of his hand. “They’re fresh-baked.”

  Willa stepped closer and looked at the cookies. “They’re oatmeal?” she said, amazed. “Actual oatmeal?”

  “Go on, have one—have them all.”

  Willa picked one up, sniffed it, then took a small bite. She chewed for a moment, then smiled at Tygo before stuffing the rest of the cookie into her mouth. Tygo grinned. He felt like he used to at Christmas when he handed his sister her gift.

  “Sit down and enjoy them.”

  Tygo went to sit at the foot of the stairs and Willa joined him. He handed her the napkin and she started on her second cookie. She was clearly starving. Tygo watched her eat a second and then a third.

  “Well, have you thought about it?”

  “About what?” Willa started on the last cookie.

  “That you help me find the jewel Krüger needs. I’ve found out something: It’s a diamond called the Red Queen.”

  Willa shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  Tygo stared at her. Was she telling the truth? He shrugged off his disappointment.

  “Still,” he said at last, “you might be able to help, and anyway, I don’t think you should stay here. Krüger knows you exist.”

  “How?” Willa looked alarmed now. “You told him, didn’t you? You snitched on me!” Her alarm was turning to anger.

  “No, I swear, I would never do that. He went to see a man who told him about you and your mother.”

  Willa leapt to her feet. “I wish I’d never met you.”

  “I can hide you, it’s all right.”

  “How? How will we get across the city? I have no papers.”

  Tygo grabbed ahold of her arm, but she shook him off.

  “I have my warrant disk and letter of authority,” he said. “I can tell the checkpoints I’m taking you in on Krüger’s authority.”

  “And that’s exactly what you’ll do. Isn’t it? Take me in, get him to interrogate me?”

  “No, it isn’t. You have to trust me.”

  “Give me one good reason!”

  Her blue eyes searched his. One good reason. He didn’t have one, he realized. But he was … just sick and tired of being alone, and they could help each other, he was sure of it.

  “Well, well, isn’t this interesting?” A man’s voice cut through the silence between them.

  Van Meegeren was standing in the doorway, dressed in a thick woolen overcoat and a mink hat. He casually raised the black revolver in his gloved hand.

  “Before you get any silly ideas about running away or some such.”

  “Who is this?” Willa asked Tygo, her eyes widening with fear.

  “Don’t you remember me, Wilhelmina?”

  Willa shook her head.

  “An old friend of your mother’s from before the war. I remember Viktor Löwenstein giving her the Red Queen when you were born. He said it was the second most beautiful thing in the world. Such a charming man, so rich.”

  Willa stared at van Meegeren, then glared at Tygo. “You brought him here!” she spat.

  Now it was Tygo’s turn to shake his head vehemently.

  “No, let’s be fair, that’s not exactly true.” Van Meegeren advanced into the hallway. “I’m afraid your friend here is a very bad liar. When your name came up in conversation today I got the distinct impression that Frettchen here had had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tygo said to Willa, remembering how he had reacted at van Meegeren’s house.

  “Shut up,” Willa replied.

  “So I thought it might worth seeing if my suspicions were correct. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say. And I am very glad I did. You are going to get me out of a lot of hot water.”

  “No!” Tygo knew instantly what van Meegeren had in mind. He was going to turn Willa in to Krüger.

  “I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal,” van Meegeren went on. “It’s just that Krüger is a dangerous man, and I like to keep on the right side of dangerous men. If you please, I have a car outside.”

  Neither Tygo nor Willa moved. Van Meegeren sighed, snapped the hammer of the revolver back, and fired. Tygo’s police cap was blown off his head. He staggered back, shocked.

  “The next one is two inches lower, Wilhelmina. Do you really want to see your knight in shining armor with a hole in his head?”

  Willa looked over at Tygo, a mixture of anger and fear in her eyes. Any trust or friendship he might have built had turned to dust.

  “I don’t know anything,” she said.

  “Then you have nothing to fear.” Van Meegeren smiled unpleasantly, just as he had when Tygo and Krüger had visited him. “Shall we?”

  Willa walked slowly toward the front door. Tygo followed her, his head hanging. At the doorway Willa took one quick last look back inside the house. Tygo could see she knew she was never coming back.

  Van Meegeren owned a Hansa 1100. It was a small navy-blue sedan, still looking like it had just left the showroom. He had to be one of the few private citizens not working for the authorities who could still run a car. Selling art and information to the Nazis was clearly a profitable business to be in. It also stank. Tygo didn’t like to think what would happen to van Meegeren once the war was over.

  “Get in,” ordered van Meegeren, twisting the chrome handle.

  It was pitch-black inside the trunk of the car. Tygo and Willa were crammed tightly together, like two spoons, with Tygo’s back against the rear seat.

  The car started up after a couple of coughs and pulled away, van Meegeren changing the gears heavily.

  “What are we going to do?” Willa hissed. She didn’t sound scared, just angry, thought Tygo. Perhaps that was a good thing.

  “I don’t know, I’m thinking. We haven’t got much time; it’s not far to Headquarters.” Tygo felt inside his tunic pocket and found a loose match. “Hang on.”

  He struck the match on the inside of the trunk lid, and it flared brightly. The car slid around a corner and Tygo was forced even closer to Willa. She jabbed him in the ribs. The match burned Tygo’s fingers.

  “Ow!” He lit another and noticed a bit of old sacking wrapped around something by the wheel arch. He leaned over Willa and pulled it toward him. He saw it was a small metal jack, the kind used to lift the car up if there was a puncture. Then the match went out.

  “Quick, shift places with me.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it if you want me to get us out of here!” Tygo said, losing patience.

  Willa rolled onto her back and Tygo slid across her as best he could. He found the jack with his hands in the dark, and wedged it between the floor of the trunk and the lid. He quickly started to turn the metal handle and felt the jack starting to scissor up until the top part made contact with the lid.

  The car had pulled to a halt. “Are we here?” asked Willa.

  “We can’t be yet …”

  Sure enough, the car set off again, turning another corner. Tygo was now twisting the handle slowly, the pressure building on the lid. Suddenly there was a sharp snap and the catch on the lock gave way. The lid flipped up a couple of inches and Tygo could see out. They were driving through Merwedeplein, getting close to Gestapo HQ.

  The car slowed as it reached the bridge over the south Amstel canal. Tygo glanced back at Willa. “Let’s go!” Without giving her the chance to argue, he grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, pushing the lid up. They both fell in a heap on the ground, rolling along the icy tarmac.

  Tygo was already pulling Willa down the road before the car came to a halt and an astonished van Meegeren got out. He shouted vainly after them, but didn’t give chase. It wouldn’t have done any good; he would never have caught them.

  Ten minutes later Tygo hurried down the stone steps leading to the frozen canal. He was carrying his skates, along with the pistol he had taken from Ursula. Thinking on his feet, he had come up with a plan, and the pistol meant that nobody was
going to stop him.

  Willa was still there waiting for him, tucked back between two storage huts on the towpath.

  He smiled at her with relief. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

  “I wasn’t sure myself,” she replied.

  “I’m going to make it up to you, I swear.” He sat down and quickly took off his boots, strapping on the skates. It was after three o’clock and the light was fading fast.

  “Trust me, this is the safest way for us to get to my shop.” He stepped down onto the frozen ice.

  “What am I supposed to do, fly?” asked Willa.

  “No, stupid, climb on my back. I’m strong.”

  Willa looked at him for a moment, then stepped forward and landed on his back with a little jump. Tygo struggled to keep upright for a second or two, then found his balance.

  The terrible winter had taken its toll on Willa, and she was so thin and light that Tygo could easily carry her. He pushed off firmly, and within a few confident strides they were skimming along the frozen surface. He hugged the sides of the moored-up barges and canal boats. The light of oil lamps shone through some portholes as darkness continued to fall.

  Willa tightened her grip around his neck with her arms, her legs around his waist as he built up the pace. Tygo swung his arms to keep up the momentum.

  “This is great!” Willa laughed into his ear, and he tried to put on some extra speed. He wondered for a moment if he would make it, but he was determined not to fail Willa again. By the time they reached the Armbrug bridge, Tygo’s legs felt like jelly.

  “I didn’t think you could do that,” said Willa as he set her down.

  “Piece of cake,” said Tygo, fighting for breath. “Now, listen.” He started to unlace his skates. “Once you’re safely in the shop, I have to get back to Headquarters right away before Krüger misses me.”

  “I understand.” Tygo could see she had almost forgiven him from before.

  Tygo pulled on his boots. “There are some metal rungs in the wall.” He pointed, and followed Willa as she started to climb up by the side of the bridge.