by Mick Hare
In moments Robert could hardly believe he was walking along a network of corridors within Gestapo headquarters. If he had known how easy it would be he would have strapped a hundredweight of dynamite to his chest and blown the place to bits. At the end of a corridor lined with shiny white and green tiled walls he was taken through a metal gate which the guard unlocked with keys hanging from his belt. They then went down three flights of metal stairs. ‘Each step,’ thought Robert, ‘is a step I might never retrace.’
Robert felt the fall in temperature as they descended and the echo of their footsteps rang out more clearly. Eventually the guard halted at a door and peered through the observation hole.
“Here you are, doctor. Friedrich Lehmann. Looks all right to me. I’ve seen a lot worse and no doctor sent for.”
Robert shrugged as if to say, what do I know? The guard unlocked the door and let Robert in. As he stepped inside a cold shiver ran up his back as the guard stepped back and began to close the door.
“Just a moment,” he said. “Where are you going? I don’t want to be left alone with this asocial rodent.”
The guard laughed and stepped back inside.
“Don’t worry, Herr Doctor. I will only be outside in the corridor.”
As he completed his sentence and turned to exit he felt a sharp prick in his neck. Robert had brought the syringe out of his pocket and swung it around the man’s back and into the side of his neck just below his ear. Emitting a child-like yelp, the guard stumbled and then fell to his knees. A gentle push from Robert and he toppled forward onto his face.
Friedrich cowered in the corner of the cell. The cell was brightly lit. Too bright! Obviously a part of the torture process. Robert closed the cell door, disentangled the guard’s keys from his belt and locked the door. He went across to Friedrich and bent close to him.
“It’s me,” he said somewhat unnecessarily.
“What the hell are you doing here?” whispered Friedrich
“I’m here to get you out. Now come on, help me.”
Robert moved back to the prostrate guard.
“Come on,” he said. “Help me undress him.”
The two men worked in silence as they de-robed the guard.
“Now get out of your clothes. Quickly, man!”
Within minutes the guard was lying on Friedrich’s cell bed, clad in Friedrich’s old clothes, face turned to the wall. Friedrich stood as erect as he could manage in the guard’s immaculate uniform.
“Here,” said Robert. “Get rid of that face furniture.”
He handed Friedrich a safety razor and Friedrich inflicted a painful dry shave upon his own face. Robert looked him over. He took some swabs out of his doctor’s bag and cleaned up the blood spots on Friedrich’s face.
“You’ll have to do. Come on let’s get out of here.”
As they walked along the tiled corridor, Robert whispered instructions to Friedrich, “Take the keys. When we get to the top corridor and go into the lobby you walk well ahead of me. Whatever happens, keep walking. Don’t turn round for anything. If someone tries to stop you, say you’re hurrying to an incident under orders. Don’t stop.”
Robert paused to catch his breath and to listen for sounds in the corridor. He then went on, “You have a good friend called Karl.”
Friedrich turned in surprise to hear that Robert knew this, but he did not interrupt.
“Go to his house. Tell him as much as you need to. Get rid of that uniform there and borrow some of his clothes. Then you must go to the apothecary in Beethoven Strasse. Do you know the one I mean?”
“Yes.”
“It’s closed now but you can gain entry through the back entrance in the lane at the rear.”
Robert described the layout of the interior of the apothecary and where to locate the transmitter hidden there. He then handed Friedrich a tiny piece of paper. When Friedrich looked at it he saw a series of numbers.
“That’s the frequency you must use,” instructed Robert. “When you are connected you must utter three words only.”
Friedrich stopped and stared at Robert. His visage portrayed a combination of puzzlement and fear.
“Are you listening to me?” Robert asked.
Friedrich nodded.
“You must say these three words – “A Pious Killing.”
Friedrich mouthed the words.
“Say them back to me,” ordered Robert.
“A Pious Killing,” whispered Friedrich.
“You’ll do,” grinned Robert. “When you manage to do that you will be given instructions on how to get out of Germany.”
Friedrich’s eyes opened wide.
“You’d better take that look off your face or we’re going to have great difficulty getting out of here.”
They stood at the gate leading into the lobby area. Gestapo uniforms were all around doing what Gestapo administration officers do.
“Unlock the door, then walk well ahead of me. Whatever happens, keep going! With any luck I’ll see you at the apothecary in under an hour. Good luck my friend.”
Friedrich made to speak but Robert stopped him with a hand to his mouth.
“Open the gate and get going!”
Friedrich reached towards the lock with the bunch of keys. His first attempt failed and as he tried a second key two other guards came running up the steps towards them. Robert felt his heartbeat race and then accelerate even further as Friedrich dropped the whole bunch of keys onto the metal landing.
The guards pushed in between them laughing and calling, “Out of the way donkey.”
One of them slid his key into the lock and they ran through leaving it ajar. Now they only had the lobby to cross. They could see the daylight of freedom seeping in from the Munich street. Just a few metres and they would be out. Friedrich looked at Robert as if about to speak. Robert silenced him with a gesture.
“Just go,” he said. “And as you walk do it with the arrogance of one of these deluded bastards. Whatever happens, don’t look back. I will follow and I will meet you at the apothecary.”
Robert hesitated as he watched Friedrich set off across the marble-tiled lobby towards the grand double doors of the entrance. ‘My God,’ he thought, ‘he looks the part.’
When Friedrich was past half way to the doors Robert began his own walk to freedom. He tried to behave as he expected a doctor would under these circumstances and he approached the officer at the desk who had checked him in.
“You have finished, Herr Doctor?”
“Yes. There is nothing wrong with him that the relocation camp won’t put right. I can’t think why I was sent for to treat a common Jew.”
Both men laughed and Robert turned to leave. As he turned, a door in the far corner of the lobby opened and into view came Netzer, followed closely by Lily. Robert froze momentarily. His eyes locked onto Lily’s and hers onto his. Her mouth fell open in surprise and she suppressed a reflex to shout his name. But her expression was not missed by Netzer who turned to follow her line of sight. Too late, Lily touched Netzer’s arm attempting to re-engage him in the conversation they had been having.
“Seize that man!” he screamed.
Robert reacted quickly and flew towards the entrance. The guards in the lobby reacted only seconds afterwards and in moments he was face down on the floor under the combined weight of four guards. Netzer took him by the hair and said, “Let him up.”
He put his face close to Robert’s and Robert flinched as he spat into it. So you like to visit our headquarters Doctor? Well, don’t be in such a hurry to leave. We would very much like to entertain you.”
Netzer pushed Robert’s face away.
“Take him downstairs,” he ordered.
In his office Netzer poured two large glasses of schnapps. He gave one to Lily who was seated in front of his desk. Netzer took a large swallow from his own glass and, placing it on his desk came to kneel in front of Lily. His hand slid between her legs and inside her skirt. He pushed aside her panties and rou
ghly took hold of her pubic hair. Lily called out in pain but Netzer did not relinquish his hold.
“Now then my sweet Lily, I have a question for you do I not?”
He became invasive with his fingers. Lily’s rising fear accentuated her dryness, increasing the discomfort.
“Why did you try to conceal the good doctor’s presence? And why did you try to distract me?”
Lily made a big effort to assert herself. She slapped Netzer’s face hard and pushed him away. She got up from the seat, re-adjusting herself.
“You damn fool,” she screamed, looking down at him.
“What else should I do? I knew you would react in the idiotic way you did.”
Netzer’s expression showed surprise and dismay.
“What have you achieved?” Lily went on. “You’ve locked up the doctor. He was our only chance of uncovering the leaders of the conspiracy. How can he do that now? In one stupid reflex action you have undone all the work and preparation that went into establishing me as a double agent. Preparation that took years. You are a damned fool!”
Netzer got to his feet and took Lily by the chin.
“A fool am I? We’ll see about that. Let’s see how long it takes me to squeeze the information we need out of your beloved doctor.”
“You are a bigger fool than I thought. If he knew, I would know. We were never told the names of the conspirators.”
“So you say. But I’m going to find out.”
Netzer arrived in the corridor outside Robert’s cell and Robert could hear his voice as he spoke to the guards there.
“Don’t kill him,” was all he heard Netzer say.
As the two Gestapo men entered the thought that consoled Robert for what was about to happen was that the excitement he had created had so far led to the concealment of Friedrich’s escape.
Forty-four
Robert was lying on the floor in the corner of his cell when Netzer eventually entered. Robert calculated that he had been in the cell for about twelve hours. He also calculated that he had at least one broken rib, two broken fingers and badly bruised kidneys. The bright lights and white walls of the cell had worked on his perception until there were times when he could not see the walls but felt the focus of his eyes slip into an unreal gleaming distance. Before he could react to Netzer’s entrance an ice cold jet of water was turned upon him. He gasped at the shock and writhed to avoid the jet. But Netzer calmly sprayed him for a full five minutes. When finally the jet was switched off, Robert was thoroughly soaked. His body temperature had dropped significantly and he was wracked with shivers.
“Take him to my interrogation room,” barked Netzer and the guards complied.
Robert waited an hour in another blindingly bright room. The temperature was akin to a refrigerator. He was tied to a chair with his hands behind his back and was therefore unable to move about to fight the cold. During his wait he had plenty of time to study the array of instruments that lined the wall opposite his chair; the same instruments that lined the walls of every SS/Gestapo establishment in Europe, manufactured by housewives in some foundry along the Ruhr valley.
When Netzer entered he was wearing a fur-lined hood, greatcoat and gloves. He sat down on a wooden chair facing Robert and pushed his face within an inch of Robert’s. ‘It is a form of dominant behaviour he obviously enjoys,’ thought Robert.
“I am not even going to waste our time by asking you a question,” he stated in a clam, matter-of-fact voice. “You will only refuse to answer and we will enter a silly bidding game until we find out how much pain you can endure before you decide to talk. So let me start with a marker for you. I’ll just assume the first question has been asked and you have refused to answer. I will jump straight to the first application of pain.”
He got up and walked to the rows of instruments on display.
“Let me see,” he mused, as if choosing a chocolate snack. “None of these, I think. No, for my first move I will use this.”
Removing a glove he revealed a screw-driver which had been concealed within it all along. Robert noticed how worn and rusted it was.
“Let’s see how this works,” said Netzer.
Moving swiftly to Robert’s side he inserted the blade of the screw-driver into Robert’s ear and slammed it with the heel of his hand.
Robert roared in pain. A sharp stab; a popping sound; a growing throb of agony; a hissing noise; a hot, wet feeling running onto his neck.
Netzer replaced the screw-driver within the glove and exited the cell. Two guards came in, released Robert from his chair and led him back to his cell. Before leaving him there, they jet-sprayed him with icy water for about five minutes.
Two hours later the guards returned. They lifted Robert up and dragged him back to Netzer’s interrogation room. As Robert sat waiting for Netzer to enter he knew that hypothermia was beginning to deprive him of his full senses. His mind wanted to enter a numb featureless landscape where it could lie down and sleep. His hearing was irreparably damaged. He could hear noises but he knew all of them originated inside his head. He heard the outside world as if from under water. He would not survive much more of this. Netzer was undeniably good at what he did. If Robert needed a motivation to keep him alive, it was knowing that Friedrich was safe and he could now get back to his mission if he could only escape. It was keeping the word ‘escape’ in his mind, however ridiculous it seemed, that kept him conscious.
Netzer entered. He was again clad in fur.
“Don’t look so worried my good doctor. I am not going to insult your bravery with any questions. Not just yet. I think we need a little more encouragement before we enter the questioning stage.”
Robert could not prevent himself from glancing at the instruments.
“Aha!” laughed Netzer. “Curious, are we? But no we are not ready for the precision instruments yet. But look! Look what I’ve brought for you.”
He removed his gloves. In one hand he held a small chisel. In the other he held a small sculptor’s hammer.
“I love to improvise you know. Guard!” he screamed.
A guard entered and he was ordered to hold Robert’s head still by taking handfuls of his hair. When the guard had Robert in position Netzer took up the hammer and chisel. As carefully as an artist working with stone he positioned the chisel upon Robert’s left cheek bone. With an expert tap he hit it with the exact amount of force needed to split the bone apart. Moving quickly he repeated the act upon Robert’s right cheek bone.
Robert screamed but it was a pathetically weak sound that emerged from his lungs. Meanwhile, the guard holding Robert let his head drop, turned and vomited in the corner of the room. Netzer went berserk.
“Get out of here you fucking girl! You shameless coward! You traitor to the Fuhrer!” As he screamed he kicked the guard all the way to the door and pushed him out. “Get your filth cleaned up and send someone to take this piece of vermin back to his cell.”
Robert was thrown to the floor of his cell completely unconscious.