by Ron Smoak
Hugo led the duo. As they neared the corner, Hugo heard several voices. He stopped and raised a clenched fist. Freeze! Dane froze and looked around instinctively scanning the area for a hiding place. Across the hall about two meters away was a door. Dane stepped back, his weapon trained on the corner in case someone came waltzing around. He looked at the label on the wall beside the door: Lufffahrtausrustung SH-12. Dane stepped over and tried the door handle. It was unlocked. He crept over behind Hugo and motioned to follow him. They both backed away from the corner.
Dane opened the door and stepped into the well-lit room, Hugo right behind him. Dane went in forward. Hugo went in backwards covering the hall. Dane scanned the room. He saw no one. But he heard voices. He tapped Hugo on the shoulder and signaled he heard something. Hugo spun around. Two avionics technicians walked out from behind a parts area in the back of the room. Everyone froze. The techs were stunned seeing two camouflage-dressed guys wielding weapons staring at them. Dane and Hugo were aiming their weapons at the two, deciding whether or not to fire. One of the techs pushed the other toward Hugo and tried to reach a telephone on the wall. Hugo fired twice; Dane once. Both technicians died instantly with perfectly placed shots to the torso and head. Hugo moved forward and checked the bodies while Dane quickly surveyed the rest of the room. Dane flashed an all-clear signal. He walked back to the door and listened. He could barely hear voices. Dane reached down and locked the door.
“Looks like we stay here for a few minutes,” said Dane quietly. Hugo was rummaging through the room.
“This is some kind of electronics shop,” Hugo said finally.
“The sign outside said something about aircraft I think,” added Dane.
“I’ll buy that,” answered Hugo. Dane was still at the door listening.
“It sounds like they are moving a ton of stuff in the elevator. We may be here for a while until they finish,” said Dane.
“I’ll tidy up a bit back here. You keep an ear to the door.” Hugo pulled the two bodies over into the back corner of the room and stacked several boxes and crates to hide them. He crept back to the front of the room beside Dane.
“All nice and pretty,” Hugo quipped. “Are we ready to go?”
“Let’s see,” answered Dane, cracking the door open for a quick look. All looked clear and he did not hear anyone in the hall outside. “Sounds like they all left on the elevator. It’s time for us to use it now.”
Dane opened the door with his weapon leveled for action. He looked both ways and stepped into the hall to his right. Hugo followed leveling his weapon back to the left. All was clear. Dane let out a breath he had been holding. They crept down the hall to the corner. Still they heard no sounds. Suddenly a small flashing red light up near the ceiling caught Dane and Hugo’s eye. At the same time an alarm went off. The speakers blared a warning:
“Achtung, Achtung, Warnung Rot, Keine Übung!”
“That can’t be good,” barked Hugo.
“No, it’s not,” answered Dane quietly. “Sounds like they know we’re here. Let’s move.” The two burst around the corner as the elevator opened. Dane fired first. The man stepping out of the elevator reached for his sidearm but never made it. A non-silenced shot rang out. The report was deafening in the hallway. Hugo looked up to see two men running down the hall toward them, weapons drawn. Hugo dispatched both of them with a single silent burst of fire. Just their falling to the floor made ten times the noise Hugo’s weapon made. The two men stepped into the elevator and closed the door.
“We go to the bottom; right?” asked Hugo.
“Affirmative,” answered Dane. “Then straight down the hall for about twenty yards and then take a left and ten yards to a stairway on the left. That should take us into the bowels of this complex.”
“Lead on, Boss,” said Hugo quietly. “I’m covering the rear.” The elevator stopped two floors down. Dane and Hugo hugged the side walls of the elevator ready for anything short of a hand grenade. The door opened and a single technician reviewing papers on a clipboard stepped in. The technician looked up and turned facing the elevator door. His eyes opened wide. Before he could react, the blade of Hugo’s knife slid into the man’s abdomen in an upwards thrust slicing into the technician’s heart. He died before he hit the floor. Dane closed the door and repressed the basement button. When the door opened Hugo stepped out, weapon leveled for action. No one was there. Hugo placed the technician’s body outside the elevator.
Both Dane and Hugo were surprised that the environment down here was vastly different. This level looked like it was underground. The chilly air was damp. The walls were poured concrete but the lime was leaching profusely from the mix. In some places you could see water leaking through the walls and ceiling. It was a far cry from the nice clean air-conditioned levels above.
“Are we in the right place?” asked Hugo, scanning the area outside the elevator. “This place looks damn near like Hell except it is not hot.”
“To some it probably is,” said Dane quietly. They headed quickly down the long hallway past several doors that looked as though they had not been opened in years. “It doesn’t look like this place gets much traffic.”
Hugo nodded and kept moving. They came to the left-hand turn. Voices! Someone was coming behind them. The two men rounded the corner and ran directly into three armed guards. Hugo fired and slammed himself up against the right side of the wall. Two of the guards dropped dead in their tracks. The third guard unshouldered his weapon and moved behind his two dead comrades and fired. The bullets barely missed Dane’s head and smashed into the wall. A bullet fragment smacked into Dane’s forearm. Even with the bullets flying, Dane was able to get off a burst with his MP-5 and the third guard crumbled. Hugo looked at Dane.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” said Dane. “Took a bullet frag to the forearm but all is okay except for my ears. I’m gonna bleed a little.” Hugo took a quick look.
“Looks like just a scratch.”
The German weapon fire was loud and resonated throughout the basement.
“We gotta get moving before more guards come,” Dane said. They started moving further down the passageway. Once again they heard many footsteps headed their way.
“Here they come,” said Hugo, leveling his weapon ahead. Within seconds a dozen Germans rushed around the corner. Hugo unloaded a burst of fire, killing at least three. But the return fire from the Germans was withering. Both Dane and Hugo dove into door insets on both sides of the hall, firing constant bursts. The unsilenced German weapons were deafening in these confined halls. Bullets were ricocheting off the concrete walls with concrete chips and powder flying in every direction. For a few seconds chaos reigned.
As the firing ceased, a heavy fog set in from the concrete dust. The Germans pulled back to the far corner about twenty-five yards ahead. Hugo stooped low trying the handle above his head. It opened and he leaned on the door and dove in, reversing his movement and re-aiming his weapon down the hall. Dane tried his door. It was locked. Damn, that was just his luck, he thought. After a few seconds, Dane rather ungracefully leaped over to Hugo’s door and flew over him into the room. The room was dark. Dane couldn’t see his surroundings. All he knew was they were safe from the incoming rounds from the Germans. He crawled up behind Hugo.
“You see ‘em?” he asked.
“No, but they’re there,” answered Hugo. Suddenly Dane heard a door open behind him. Two Germans were silhouetted in the light coming in through the back door to the room. One was crouched and the other stood behind him. Dane tiptoed across the floor of the darkened room until he had a clear shot. Two short bursts took both men down, one clearly wounded but in terrible pain. Dane leaped under a desk for cover. Chances were the Germans would try to get in again, probably from the front and back simultaneously. Dane glanced back at Hugo. He was gone! Dane looked at the back door and saw shadows. The Germans were coming in again. He checked his clip and prepared for the onslaught. Before he could ta
ke another breath, there were several long bursts of fire in the hall outside. Dane heard a man scream and then heard several large thumps as several men fell. He refocused his attention to the back door when a hand appeared waving.
“All clear.” It was a familiar voice. “Don’t fire, Boss. It’s me.” He gingerly poked his head in the door as Dane rolled out from underneath the desk. “Taken to hiding, have we?” Hugo asked smiling. Dane grinned.
“You crazy Texan, why the hell did you do that?” asked Dane, standing up.
“Hell, I figured you blocked the back door so I rushed the bastards from the front and caught all of them readying to rush you through here. I moved in and mowed them down.”
“Well, I can’t argue. It worked like a charm. Let’s go.” The two men stepped to the door, listened and resumed their search for the stairway.
Throughout the rest of Fortress Alpha all hell broke loose. With the general alarm going off, Captain Boehm’s troops raced through the halls, checking critical rooms and locking down critical staff. Most everyone in the complex was armed and hunting for the intruders. On the Führer’s level, almost every inch of the level was teeming with heavily armed storm troops. Massive blast doors were closed, virtually sealing in the Führer and her immediate, high-level staff. The storm troops were deployed close to the outside of the blast doors. Their job was simple. Die before letting anyone get to the Führer. And they were ready.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Monday, July 18, 2011
Fortress Alpha, Jorgen Maas’ Office; 7:35 a.m.
Reports of gunshots came pouring into Maas’ office. While information from outside of the Fortress was sparse, the reports from inside the complex were numerous.
“Sir, we have shots fired on several levels. Two technicians were killed on the hangar level. Three men were shot and killed at the elevator on the hangar level. A firefight has erupted with several of our men killed on the basement level. All the disturbance is in the northwest quadrant,” reported Maas’ assistant, Max Delper. Delper was a worried man. Maas made it clear to him he was not happy with Delper’s actions in documenting the incursions. Delper did not want to get on Maas’ bad side. So Delper was particularly efficient in gathering and reporting all actions occurring throughout the Fortress. He stood before Captain Maas waiting for his reaction.
“Move all available resources to the northwest quadrant. Block all elevators and entrances. They got in, but they will not get out,” Maas said sternly. He looked directly at Delper. “You still here?” he bellowed. “Move your ass now. And get troops to the basement!”
Maas thought for a second. He knew where they were going. Those sons-of-bitches were going after the two Americans jailed in the sub-basement. But, he thought, the intruders would not know about the sub-basement. He whirled around. “I’m headed to the sub-basement. Have all reports come to me down there!” he yelled as he opened his office door and strode off purposefully down the hall to the elevator. When he turned the corner down the hall, he was pleased to see seven of his armed crack troops guarding the elevator. They all snapped to attention. “Open the damn door. I’m going down there,” he barked to the group leader, who turned and began fumbling with the elevator controls. Maas waited, becoming more and more frustrated with each second. “Why am I waiting?” he shouted just as the elevator door opened, revealing several more armed guards. Maas didn’t give anyone time to answer. He stepped into the elevator and looked at the men. “Get out now,” he said curtly, motioning them toward the open elevator door.
“But sir,” questioned the group leader, “they are guarding the elevator. What if the intruders get in?” Maas gave the group leader a stern look and pulled his pistol.
“They will have to deal with me,” Maas replied matter-of-factly. “I will send the elevator back up. Put these men back in then.” With that, Maas closed the elevator doors and reached into his pocket for the elevator override key. He placed the key in the keyhole and turned it to the right. The elevator began to go down, down to Maas’ secret sub-basement.
When the door opened three of his select guards were aiming their weapons at the interior of the elevator. They quickly raised them when they saw it was Maas.
One of the guards gave a quick report. “No incursions at this level, sir,” he said quickly. “I don’t think they know we are down here.”
Maas glared at the guards and walked past them down the short hall to the main chamber. A small smile came across his face as he saw Grübner still hanging, moaning quietly.
“Get the Americans, now!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. Two guards at one end of the room ran off down the hall to get the two prisoners. Maas turned and looked at Grübner sternly. He grabbed his chin and pulled it up so Maas could see what was left of his eyes. “How are you, Oberleutnant?” he asked. Grübner, although now nearly blind, cracked open his eyes through the dried blood and sweat that glued them together. Weakly he tried to speak. Maas simply stepped back and hit him with his fist across the face. Grübner’s head snapped back and he let out a long, low moan. Maas grinned.
Behind him he heard a scuffle. The two guards brought Dana and Randall into the room. Their eyes fixated straight on Grübner hanging naked before them.
“Oh, my God!” gasped Dana. She closed her eyes, looked away and started to sob. She had never seen anything like this. She heard Grübner moaning. She opened her eyes now realizing it was worse than she thought. The man was alive!
Randall grimaced as he took Grübner’s situation in. This was what Maas was capable of? My God, we are going to die.
“Bring the girl and hang her here,” Maas ordered with a slight smile. Randall jumped forward only to be slammed down on the floor by the guard holding him. His head bounced off of the concrete floor. It made a hideous sound. Randall was out like a light. “If he tries that again, kill him,” hissed Maas. “I am finished being nice.” The two guards stood over Randall waiting for him to move again.
“Randall!” screamed Dana, not knowing how badly he was hurt. “Randall, no!” she screamed, trying to fight off her guard but keeping one eye on Randall lying on the floor. The burly guard manhandled Dana over near Grübner while another pair of guards pulled an overhead trolley with chains hanging down over to Dana. She sat down hard trying to delay the inevitable as long as she could. The trolley was attached to a set of rails that ran the length of the room. There were two more trolleys still waiting against the wall. Evidently four victims could be hung from the ceiling at one time. It seemed Maas’ playground was well equipped for his kind of play.
Dana struggled to free herself from the guards with no success. Her screams clearly hurt the guards’ ears. Regardless, the men simply grabbed her hands as she sat there squirming and thrust each of them into steel shackles being locked tightly around her wrists. She tried to lie on the floor and kick the guards.
“Randall!” she screamed as the shackles were locked. “No!” Randall was still lying on the floor. He was not moving. “Oh, God, Randall!” Dana was squirming, trying to release her hands. Her slippers flew into the air as she tried repeatedly to kick at the guards. The two guards stepped back as another pressed a button on the control box in his hand. There was a heavy whirring sound as the chain’s slack was removed, pulling Dana up into a standing position. The whirring stopped for a few seconds, then returned. Dana felt enormous pressure on her wrists and then felt the steel cuffs cutting into her wrists.
“Stop!” she screamed. “It hurts!” She struggled even more as she went up on her tiptoes. She continued to rise as the whirring continued. Then her bare feet left the floor. She hung freely but continued trying to kick the guards.
The pain in her wrists was excruciating. The tight steel cuffs began to cut into her wrists. As she squirmed to try to get out of the cuffs, they cut further into her skin, with small streams of blood immediately becoming visible from underneath the cuffs.
Her screams of pain awoke Randall. He was dazed. He thought he hear
d screaming but he couldn’t think straight through the haze in his mind. Where was he? He tried to look about the room but could not remain focused. His head was ringing. He felt a warm liquid running down the side of his face. It was blood. He tried to shake his head to clear it but was met with a searing pain in his head. He tried to look up again, his eyes squinting, determined to see clearly what was going on. He could see other people in the room and saw someone hanging from the ceiling but he could not see who it was.
Randall tried to raise a hand to his head but one of the guards stomped heavily on his hand with his heavy boot. He heard the sickening crunch of the bones in his hand but did not feel the pain. As the boot left his hand, he looked blurrily at his crushed appendage and tried to raise it again. This time he felt the pain. A searing pain almost overwhelmed him as he saw his crushed hand hanging limply from his wrist. He looked up at the guard, who was grinning. Blood was oozing from his broken hand.
“Hurts, doesn’t it,” the guard grinned. “Move again and I will crush your other hand.”
Dana’s screaming now filled Randall’s ears. She sounded like a banshee. He looked over at where the cries were coming from and saw Dana hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, kicking and squirming. Her legs were flying in all directions. But Randall couldn’t do anything. He simply stared at her in a stupor caused by the blow to his head. He still could not fathom what was happening. His mind was moving in slow motion. Sounds from around him were getting to his head but at a delay. It was surreal, like he was in a fog.
“Tie the bitch’s legs,” Maas ordered. “Stop her flailing.” One of the guards reached down and grabbed Dana’s legs just above the ankle. She fought with his grip, kicking him as best she could. Her bare feet slapped against his huge hands. She continued to fight the guard when another guard stepped over and, with a vise-like grip, grabbed her ankles. The first guard pulled away his hands and reached for a section of rope from his pocket. Maas stepped in closer. “Tie her legs tight at the ankles. I do not want her moving.” The sight of her hanging helplessly excited Maas.