The guards didn’t react in the slightest when he went over and opened it. Bryan immediately knew why.
It was merely another lavatory.
That same evening Kröner was still cackling as he went around with the assistant nurses and the food trolley. With eyebrows raised in merriment, he approached Bryan and whispered some words with satanic solemnity. Bryan didn’t understand their meaning. ‘Bald, Herr Leyen! Sehr bald… Sehr, sehr bald!’
One of the escape problems was now solved. There was a window in the newly discovered lavatory. Its thin iron frame was bolted so it couldn’t be opened, but the view from it was promising.
The lavatory itself was incorporated in the back-stair extension. From there, one had a completely clear view along the facade, past the showers, lavatories, examination room, the two-man room, the mysterious single room and all the way over to the corner of the building where Bryan’s own room lay. A magnificent view, with drainpipes every three or four yards. Especially interesting was the drainpipe outside the room that only the army surgeon used, because it was anchored so solidly. The route down this drainpipe ran down into a small niche at the foot of the building that housed rubbish bins and surplus materials. Above, however, it was attached to the top floor, just outside a bay window in the pitched roof.
This attic window was open so that sunlight lit up the shelves inside with their piles of linen.
Bryan would go upwards, not downwards.
Gisela Devers didn’t come to their room in the days that followed.
Bryan missed her presence with a mixture of pain and sweetness.
After two nightmarish nights and two very lonely days she suddenly turned up again. On the third morning she sat with her husband, reading, as if nothing had happened. During the few hours she was there she didn’t say a word and made no overtures. Just as she was about to leave, she sat down for a moment beside Bryan’s bed. She patted his hand dispassionately and nodded proudly at him. In a few phrases she made it clear that she had heard the Führer was in the vicinity. Warming to the subject, she mentioned an offensive in the Ardennes, sounding very optimistic, and smiled when she spoke his name.
Then she winked at him. The hero Arno von der Leyen would soon be receiving a visitor. If not the Führer himself, then someone close to him.
The look of veneration Gisela Devers gave Bryan when she left remained imprinted in his memory.
Chapter 26
Just keep sleeping, kiddo, Bryan thought to himself. Herr Devers was a heavy man and it was difficult to haul him out of bed. The blanket on his own bed was turned back, ready to receive his roommate. Then he put Devers’ dressing gown in the empty bed and moulded it carefully into the shape of a reclining body, pulled the blanket up over it, put on his own dressing gown and left the room after having made sure there was no one in the hallway who hadn’t any business there.
It was just before seven in the evening. Their overcooked dinner had been rapidly consumed. A number of emergency drills had put the staff into a flurry most of the day. At first Bryan thought it was for real, that they were all about to be evacuated. Then self-reproach gave way to curses as he realised a chance to escape had been lost.
But the nursing aides smiled, and even Vonnegut stuck his head into his room and grinned. The night medicine had already been distributed, several hours earlier than usual.
The time had come.
The guards in the hall almost laughed as he stood himself in the corridor, scratching his neck and looking lost. Suddenly his face brightened and he walked over to the seven-man room with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.
Instead of stopping him, they looked almost as relieved as he did.
The malingerers were already lying flat in their beds, except Kröner, who propped himself up on his elbows the moment Bryan entered and gave him a derisive look. James now lay between him and Red-Eye in Bryan’s old bed.
An unfamiliar, passive face peeped up over the blanket in the bed at the end wall and followed Kröner’s movements across the floor. The broad-faced man grunted and awakened when Kröner shook him. James woke up as well.
The look James sent Bryan signalled another form of apathy than mere lassitude.
It was all Bryan needed to know.
James wouldn’t be able to come with him.
Then Bryan strode in between Kröner and James’ bed and looked out the window. The fir trees on the southern part of the rock face were at least twenty feet from the house wall. But just outside this window, and a bit further along the building, the distance was much less.
The branches were dark green, full of sap, supple and dense. There was plenty to grab hold of, so long as the angle of fall was correct.
From his bed on the floor below Bryan had watched the bases of these giant shadows dance tantalizingly in front of his eyes every, single day. Tiny fragments of a quiet, normal existence, swaying lazily out there behind the windows. Unapproachable and alluring.
And now he finally had a complete picture of them.
Lankau and Kröner were standing between the beds behind Bryan, blocking his path. Kröner was just as calmly expectant as Lankau was quivering with impatience. Jill’s scarf decorated Pock-Face’s neck coquettishly beneath his crooked smile. Kröner stroked the scarf with the back of his hand and grinned diabolically the instant he saw Bryan had noticed it. The malingerers had wrested James’ last remnant of security from him. Bryan looked down at James as Red-Eye regarded them with interest from the adjoining bed, the picture of innocence.
James didn’t even blink when Bryan gave him an oblique smile.
Then Bryan raised his shirt, bent over and bared his naked bottom. Both Kröner and Lankau kept laughing until Bryan bent down still further and blew a long and offensive fart directly in their faces. Pock-Face stopped momentarily and backed off slightly, but the roar from Lankau behind him was too much and Kröner burst into laughter again when Bryan glanced over his shoulder with an elfish, naive expression.
Bryan gave James a last look. It was hard to see if it was acknowledged. James’ face was pale. The torment in it made Bryan look away again. Then, pausing a moment, he stepped so close to Kröner that their foreheads met, and belched straight in his face.
The pocked face changed colour in a flash. Kröner’s momentary confusion left him vulnerable to the blow that hit him squarely on the cheekbone, so he staggered backwards in surprise, straight into Lankau’s arms. The two malingerers were unable to contain their fury and both of them flew at Bryan without heeding the red-eyed man’s protests.
But Bryan had got what he was after.
Lankau had scarcely tightened his grip before Bryan began screaming with abandon, loud enough to wake his ancestors from the grave. Everyone in the room became wide-awake witnesses to the three tumbling figures, as well as the guards who came storming in from the hallway like dark shadows and instantly fell upon the brawling men. Both Pock-Face and the broad-faced man were out of control. One of the guards tore Bryan away from them as Lankau’s blows rained down impotently on the guard.
Suddenly everything was quiet, except for Bryan, who was sitting on the floor, sobbing. Red-Eye had heaved his bell-cord, then fallen back against the pillow with a sigh of resignation and irritation upon hearing the shouts of the orderlies who were already on their way down the hall.
Bryan glanced at James for the last time as he backed out of the door, still sobbing, but James had already turned onto his side and withdrawn into the blanket’s embrace.
Bryan crossed the corridor in a few quick steps after slamming the door behind him. By the time the nurses reached the swing door from the stairs he’d stopped his whimpering. He was now in the middle room where the mysterious, important patient lay.
The single room was in complete darkness.
Bryan stood stock-still, growing accustomed to the dark. Presumably they’d be giving Kröner and Lankau a sedative now. Under no circumstances would the nursing staff leave James’ room for the n
ext five or ten minutes.
He heard the sound of the door to his own room being opened on the other side of the wall. The guards’ voices were clear and sounded relieved. They’d already determined that Bryan was back in bed.
That meant Herr Devers, Bryan’s unconscious neighbour, hadn’t turned over in Bryan’s bed. The dose of sleeping pills had been sufficient.
Gradually he discerned the contours of someone staring at him out of the darkness.
The man’s lack of expression worried Bryan. Like so much else in the ward, his failure to react didn’t make sense. Bryan put his fingers to his lips and squatted beside the bed. The sick man was now breathing quicker and more heavily, as if summoning up a scream. The febrile breathing became deeper and deeper. His lower lip quivered.
Then Bryan pulled the pillow away from the man’s elbows and pushed him back in the bed. He didn’t even seem surprised when Bryan raised the pillow, placed it over his face and began pressing.
It was like watching their caretaker in Dover take hold of a dove and slowly squeeze the life out of it. The man offered no resistance whatsoever, didn’t even squirm. The soft, defenceless body seemed abandoned and so alone.
Thin arms raised a trifle, breaking Bryan’s will to continue. He pulled the pillow aside and gazed into the frightened eyes that had just seen death recede.
Feeling just as relieved, Bryan stroked him gently on the cheek and smiled. He received a meek glint in return.
The obligatory dressing gown was hanging on a hook. Bryan put in on over his own, tying the belt tightly around his waist. While it was tempting, he dared not switch on the light to inspect the rest of the room for useful objects.
The window opened the wrong way and blocked his access to the drainpipe. The patient gurgled imperceptibly as Bryan lifted the window off its frame and carefully placed it behind the curtain by the washbasin.
The tumult in the ward had now ceased completely. The staff were no longer shouting. The guards’ laughter in the corridor sounded subdued. They’d done their duty.
As far as they knew.
Bryan reckoned he had at least seven or eight hours before his escape would be discovered, if everything in the ward went as normal from now on.
But before he was done thinking this, his body stiffened.
Something inexplicable, practically intuitive, had made him let go of the curtain before stepping onto the windowsill. It may merely have been the sound of a key jingling in a trouser pocket.
Before whoever it was took proper hold of the door handle, Bryan threw himself backwards towards the door, twisting his ankle in the process. It started throbbing as he stared around wildly.
A small beam of light danced into the room and across his toes. One of the guards stuck his dark face inside the room less than four inches away. The light coming from behind gave him a satanic halo. The slightest sound or movement and Bryan was finished. The solitary patient still lay in the bed with his head pressed deeply into the pillow, smiling vaguely. The window curtain was flapping a bit. The fresh air seemed treacherously out of place and, to his horror, Bryan saw the beam of light catch the foot of the window frame behind the curtain. The guard muttered something and gradually opened the door until he was accustomed enough to the dark to see the recumbent shape. Then he stopped. Bryan’s ankle was now aching so much that he was about to fall on his side. Perhaps it was the best thing that could happen, that he simply fell. Could he still hope to get away with it? Bryan dismissed the thought and regained his balance. They would find a dressing gown in Devers’ bed, and Devers lying in Arno von der Leyen’s. Bryan would be wearing two dressing gowns.
It would be hard to explain away.
The obergruppenführer suddenly sat up in bed. He seemed completely attentive. ‘Gute Nacht,’ he said softly, so well articulated that even Bryan could understand it. ‘Gute Nacht!’ the guard replied, shutting the door so quietly that it all seemed quite human.
The evening was damp and the wintry night air already had a bite to it. There wasn’t a soul to be seen in the square below. The drainpipe seemed firm, but was smoother than Bryan had counted on.
And his ankle hurt, so his few hoists up to the bay window were harder and more exhausting than he’d expected. It was only a hand’s breadth from the roof gutter to the window, but the window was closed. Bryan pushed at it carefully. The steamed-up pane sat loose in its frame, but stubbornly refused to give way, wasting time. So he aimed a hard blow at it, and the splintering glass tore a penny-sized gash in his hand. The topmost window catch was far too high. Bryan took a firm hold on the frame and pulled it off. The topmost pane flew out, all in one piece, and smashed to bits on one of the bins thirty feet below. To Bryan, the sharp tinkle of shattering glass sounded as if the sky were falling.
But he was the only one who noticed.
In spite of his luck, however, he was now back to square one. The savage irony of fate had sneered at him once more. For even though the window frame was no longer a problem, he’d have to find another way into the building. A massive piece of furniture had been placed in front of the bay window since he’d viewed it from below, two days ago.
Much too massive.
The prospect of having to climb down again made him begin desperately to investigate the possibilities and pitfalls of the slate roof. It was smooth and shiny and reflected the faint light from the lampposts behind the kitchen area in a series of flickering mirages. Several attic windows in iron frames also appeared in the black surface.
More and more flashes to the north-northwest indicated delayed, muffled explosions. The fighting on the other side of the Rhine had increased greatly during the past hour. Strasbourg appeared to be giving way under Allied pressure.
From the bay window a couple of feet away came the sound of women’s voices. Bryan presumed he was just outside the nurses’ quarters. Also, from the attic window behind him, faint noises began indicating that the early evening shift was retiring to its night quarters. He could be discovered at any moment if just one of the inhabitants wished to air out her room or see where the rumbles and flashes of light were coming from. All it would take was a quick glance along the roof. Despite the cold Bryan began to sweat so much that his hands gradually lost their grip on the window frame. He’d have to find another way into the building at once. In a few moments the guards would be coming around the corner.
Hanging there like that, he would not be difficult to spot.
Bryan examined the roof for a second time. Joint by joint, roof tile by roof tile. His hopes were suddenly renewed when an iron frame appeared out of the darkness. It was almost hidden by the roof of the bay window just above him. He’d be able to get inside that window if he could just gain a foothold in the attic’s gutter.
The first grasp upwards was the worst. The surface was cold as hell and slimy with decaying leaves. Just as Bryan slithered a step backwards towards the abyss and was leaning feverishly parallel with the slope of the roof, he heard the menacing bark that always signalled the arrival of the guards and their dogs.
They normally came in pairs, but this time two couples had apparently run into each other and decided to have a chat immediately below Bryan’s precarious perch.
The old men mumbled to one another, mechanically reaching to their breast pockets for cigarettes. The cone of light from the lamppost above bore witness to their merriment. Their guns hung heavily on their shoulders as the dogs tugged at their leashes, eager to be off. It wasn’t until Bryan nearly lost his grip again and thrust his foot heavily against the side of the bay that the animals sensed something.
Several lumps of slimy leaf mould flew out over the gutter and splattered on the rubbish bins. This immediately made two of the dogs bark. The men glanced around in confusion. Then they shook their heads, reluctantly stubbed out their cigarettes and went their separate ways.
The moment their voices died away Bryan pushed himself up towards the roof. A couple of seconds more and he would have had c
ramp in his leg.
The attic room had nothing really to offer. Stacks of old beds and disintegrating mattresses had found their final resting place on the dusty planks. Musty wood shavings and rags had created a paradise for scampering mice. Here they could reproduce in peace. Had Bryan not been forced to leave tracks revealing the route by which he’d disappeared, he might have been able to wait up there for several days in case the weather grew milder, making escape less risky.
As things were, he had to be on his way immediately, but first he needed something to put on his feet. Unfortunately no footwear was to be found.
The stairs leading down to the floor below ended at a door. It may have been locked once, but now only dampness and dirt resisted his shove. The room he entered was devoid of activity. The bombardment sounded different here. The entire pitched roof vibrated. The chaotic imminence of destruction felt grim and disheartening.
The corridor outside the room was narrow and stretched through the entire building, with several doors on either side. Bryan stood in the dim light in the middle of the passageway, feeling his entire body break into a cold sweat. Here was a man in a dressing gown in the women’s quarters. No one could be in any doubt that he was a patient who’d gone astray.
The attic room he hadn’t been able to enter from the roof had to be behind one of the three doors straight in front of him. Sounds coming from inside the door on the right, and the distance between it and the next two doors, told him where the bathroom and lavatories must be. Thus the door in the middle had to be the room above the examination room on the floor below, and the one on the left had to be the door to the attic room.
Behind the lavatory door Bryan heard a chain being pulled and a nose being blown. He disappeared into the attic room just as the woman entered the hallway, taking tiny, weary steps. As she passed the next door she knocked on it and shouted something. Within a second the passage was a confusion of footsteps and scattered talk.
Alphabet House Page 20