They were almost at their starting point and Larry could see his CO at the shore line next to a small wooden boat, talking to two men, no doubt members of the resistance group who would transport him across the lake to Germany and the beginning of his quest. As they approached, the CO looked up and remarked to Larry, "You were gone a long time; the two of you must have been getting kind of chummy. I thought maybe you decided to go it on your own." His distaste at the presence of a German officer was apparent in the tone of his voice. "Your gear has already been loaded and they're anxious to get going. Just walk me back to the jeep; I have something that OSS guy gave me for you. Probably some last minute instructions. When they reached the vehicle he took a sealed envelope from the seat and handed it to Larry who unceremoniously ripped it open, unfolded the single sheet of paper within and read, "The plutonium must be brought back at all costs. Your country is depending on you. The girl is of no real importance —— do not let her slow you down and do not hesitate to leave her behind." He reached in his pocket, pulled out a match, and after striking it to life on the edge of his thumbnail touched it to the corner of the paper, which ignited and was quickly consumed. The CO did not ask about the note. All of the men and women that used his clandestine base to train left with secrets best known only to them and whoever ordered them into harm's way. He wanted no part of what they took with them and he pitied them their solitary lives of secrecy and shadows, especially Larry, his death a foregone conclusion, only the manner of his exit uncertain. Failure and a slow, painful death at the hands of the Nazis, or success and a slow painful death from the proximity of the plutonium with which he returned. The Captain shuffled his feet, trying to think of something to say to him, someway to offer words of encouragement or perhaps condolence, but no thoughts came and no words were brought forth, so he watched in silence as Larry turned and walked back to the small boat at the shore of Lake Constance. Shifting into operational mode he surveyed his supplies and limited equipment to make sure it was all there, then swung around to face General Schroeder, came to attention and saluted him. His salute was promptly and smartly returned. Two soldiers who loved their countries, two men who believed in truth and honor, two men who knew that morality was a concept that transcended nationality. They stood facing each other. Two dead men.
Larry helped the two resistance fighters shove off, then hopped on board while one of them started a small muffled outboard motor. As they pulled away, Larry took a small pill from an unmarked container, something to alleviate his symptoms the doctor had said. He swallowed it and turned to face Germany.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Once more Kent found himself on the train to Lugano, sipping coffee and watching the sun break through the clouds lingering over the surrounding alpine peaks. This would be the last time he met with Waldman. Operation Crossword was underway and their plan to divert the plutonium had been laid out; he had only to pass the operational details to Gerhard who, along with Julian, would run the remainder of the mission, meeting up at the rendezvous point where commodity and money changed hands. They would then each go their own way, each carrying away their prize. At least, that's what they expected.
Waldman's a sharp cookie. I respect that. Doesn't have the humanity or compassion that someone like Templeton has, but maybe that's just the difference between Americans and Germans. But you got to respect him. He's a sharp cookie.
As the train sped on, a stately looking villa on a low hill caught his eye and Kent's thoughts changed to what he could do with the money that would soon be his, how he might impress Helen's parents and make her proud of him. He felt her arms around him, squealing with delight at their good fortune, her body pressed tightly against his and the scent of her hair filling his nostrils. Life could be good. The monotonous click of the rails, like a hypnotic suggestion, encouraged further daydreaming before finally lulling him to sleep.
Before entering the station the engine slowed to a crawl, stopped for a minute while several railroad workers conferred about which track the train should use to enter the terminal, then, when the correct switches had been thrown, lurched forward and inched its way into the station. It was the sudden jerking of the cars as the train resumed its forward motion that woke Kent. He was momentarily disoriented and surprised that he had fallen asleep. A quick trip to the washroom at the front of the car, some cold water splashed on his face and several grimaces as he held his hands to his cheeks, made him feel closer to actually being awake, although somehow he still felt disconnected from the world of those around him.
The train lumbered to its final stop, the loud hiss of escaping steam like the roaring sigh of a monstrous beast of burden that had completed some arduous task and now intended to sit for a good long while. Kent was out of his seat like a bolt and was the first to lower himself to the platform. However, he stopped, still standing next to the train, steam swirling around his feet and wondered why he had hurried off the train. It was as if falling asleep had in some way made him late and now he had to make up the lost time, rushing to some appointment that he might miss. Odd, he thought, that he should think in such a way; the train had arrived on time and the meeting could not begin until he was there. It was a strange day.
Kent adjusted his coat and walked toward the main entrance of the station. Julian had told him just to head toward the usual meeting place and someone would contact him and guide him to the new location. The sky was peppered with deep gray clouds with intervening patches of clear blue, and as the clouds scudded by, the light changed from dark to featureless milky white to a clear brilliant brightness and then back to gloom again. He crossed the large square in front of the station and was approaching a checkerboard pattern of tables outside a café when he noticed an attractive woman leave her seat, step onto the sidewalk and walk towards him with a purposeful stride. Recognition took only a second. It was Waldman's woman, the one whose picture he had brought back to Julian and who would assume the role of General Schroeder's ward.
When she was a few feet from him she smiled broadly, saying, "I am so glad you could make it today," then slipped her arm in his and guided him to the table. "Let me pay the check, then we shall go." Kent hadn't said anything yet, he just stared, mesmerized by her beauty and sexuality, even more striking from close up. When she opened her purse, reaching in for money, he remembered his manners and quickly slid his hand into his pocket.
"No, please, let me get that."
"Why, thank you."
After leaving money on the table, Kent looked up at Eva, still smiling, and was about to say something when she again interlocked arms and led him off, walking close to him so their bodies touched, occasionally turning her torso to point out something or comment on the beauty of some statue, a young couple in love. She turned and pointed across his body to a narrow street that intersected the boulevard on which they walked, making sure as she did so that he felt her breast pressed firmly against his arm.
"We go down here. It is a private club belonging to a friend of the General. We won't be disturbed." As she said this she squeezed his hand gently and Kent thought suddenly that this might just be a tryst she had arranged, "a little extra on the side," and he could not keep himself from picturing her naked body. The thought scared him, but also excited him and he could not control the stirring in his loins.
"Will the General be there?"
"Of course, you silly boy. What kind of meeting would it be without both of you?"
She was teasing him, playing her own little game. He realized that now, but the thought had been there and he was still stimulated by the possibility, however remote. Embarrassed now, he added, "I meant, is the General already there."
Eva's expression indicated that she was not fooled by this, although she simply replied, "I see. Yes, he is waiting for you." They continued on for another minute, then she pointed ahead to a simple black sign that had painted on it in white letters, "BEER AND WINE". "That is it." Eva preceded him down three steps and through a heavy wooden doo
r into what appeared to be the storeroom of some café or bar, rather than the main room used by the patrons. There were beer kegs lined up across one wall and along most of the wall that held the alley door through which they had just entered. Floor to ceiling racks of wine covered another wall and the fourth was punctuated dead center by a passageway that Kent supposed led to the main room, whatever that might be. It was flanked by two old metal filing cabinets and assorted cleaning supplies including several large mops and buckets. The room was not brightly lit, although it was not particularly dark, either. Four conical metal fixtures hung from the ceiling, each casting a circular of illumination on the concrete floor below. Four circular nightclub style tables stood in the room, each placed between two of the overhanging fixtures, out of the direct glare of the lights. A fifth was in the center of the room, and at this table sat Gerhard Waldman, wearing dark brown trousers and a tweed hunting jacket with leather at the elbows and right shoulder. He turned his head and watched the approach of Kent, rising and inviting him to sit as he was led to the table. After delivering him to Waldman, Eva retreated to one of the other tables where she sat quietly. There were only the three of them in the room.
"I am sorry you had to make this journey again," Waldman led off, "but it is not easy for me to get here either."
"Comes with the job. Don't worry about it."
"Well, we will not be meeting again. I imagine you are glad of that."
"The train ride is getting kind of boring, but it's been interesting talking with you. I think you must be a good General, smart. I respect that."
Waldman nodded his thanks, then continued, "You have the final plans for our mission, and I assume the picture I gave you has been shown to your agent.'
"It has."
"And you also have the recognition code?"
"I do. Do you want me to write it down?"
"Better not written. Eva, can you hear us?"
"I can."
"Please, sir, just say it and that will suffice."
Kent stated the password and counter password, asking that it be repeated back to him to satisfy his own obsessiveness. That done, he began the litany of operational details that Julian had reviewed with him, pausing occasionally to answer questions from Gerhard, who was particularly probing when it came to the explanation of how Julian planned to spare the field agent's life by deceiving him into thinking the plutonium had been recovered some time in the past. It involved a rapid response by Waldman and his associates, as well as close coordination. The General listened carefully, nodding his head in apparent agreement, his eyes closed at times, which Kent assumed was to better concentrate and analyze what was being said. But if the eyes are the mirror of the soul, Gerhard did not want anyone to have access into the labyrinth of his mind or to see into the dark crypts that lay within. Kent completed his briefing while the man sitting across from him sat silently rubbing his temples, eyes closed, for nearly a minute before speaking. "Yes, we can make that plan work."
"Then, I guess our business is concluded, General."
"Finished, yes, but there is one more thing." He pushed back his chair and stood, taking a few steps around the little cocktail table. Eva had come up on Kent's side and placed her hand on his shoulder, then slid it up around his neck, pulling his face toward hers, mouth slightly opened, tongue poised, and kissed him full on the lips, a deep and exploring kiss. Too close to see his expression of surprise, she could sense it by the way his mouth contorted as she held her lips firmly against his. After initial astonishment, he felt excitement and fear, but alas, did not feel the end of the small revolver pressed against his abdomen just below the lower end of his breastbone, muzzle angled upward toward his heart. The noise and the pain reached him at the same time although the ringing in his ears persisted for longer, since after the bullet penetrated his heart it impacted on the spinal column, shattering it and abolishing all pain below that point. His heart continued pumping, not very effectively though, for a number of seconds and the last words he heard before life and consciousness forever left him were those of a familiar male voice snarling into his left ear, "Never insult a ... "
Eva tried to hold onto the kiss, fascinated by the thought of actually, so to speak, sucking the life and breath out of someone, but she simply could not support his weight as he crumpled to the floor. Gerhard cursed, followed by several choice invectives. He would have liked Kent to die more slowly, have liked to make sure he knew why he was dying and who had killed him, but the exigencies of the task before him, on which depended his safety as Hitler's Germany collapsed around him, did not allow for the pleasure of so personal a revenge. Prodding him with his foot for any sign of life, he spoke to Eva, "Get the other two to take the body to the Italian end of the lake. My men are waiting there and will dispose of it so there are no identifiable remains." He considered kicking the body to help vent the rage and contempt that hadn't yet dissipated, but felt it would not be befitting for an officer and a gentleman. The incongruity of this latter thought and the barbarous act that had just been committed did not phase him. As a matter of fact the disparity between thought and action never even registered in his conscious mind. Instead, Gerhard bent down and went through Kent's pockets. There was nothing of any significance; he hadn't really expected that there would be. A small sheaf of Swiss francs he handed to Eva. It was becoming ever more difficult for her to dress in the stylish manner that she liked. "Meet me at the hotel as soon as you take care of things here. I must make arrangements for you to get to Munich and see to it that you are safely ensconced in Maria's apartment." He nodded a goodbye that seemed overly formal, and walked briskly down the passageway to the front of the café and out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Several hundred meters from the shore one of the partisans switched off the outboard engine, and with muffled oar strokes they worked their way to land; German soil. Larry unloaded his gear while one of the men quickly briefed him on German troops in the area, their location, number and the usual routes and duration of patrols. He also told him what he knew of foreign nationals in the region. Larry's appearance was not that of the typical Teutonic, but in this part of the country it was not unusual to see a mixture of races and nationalities including Italians, and since he grew up speaking both English and Italian, and had become fluent in German, he was well suited for work in this area. Even as he moved closer to Munich, his appearance would be unlikely to raise any alarms although it might raise some eyebrows. The man told Larry where a bike had been hidden for him, wished him good luck, then returned to the boat and pushed out onto the lake where they would spend some time fishing to cover their absence and, if they were lucky, perhaps actually catch something to supplement the meager food that was available. After thanking them, Larry disappeared into the forest that bordered the lake in this area.
Moving at a fast clip, Larry was soon sweating. When he began to cough he stopped to rest, thought about taking another one of the pills the doctor had given him, then realized it had only been a few hours since the last one and remembered that the doctor had warned him about taking them too frequently or in more than the prescribed number. So he just sat there, leaning against a pine tree, until his coughing subsided and his respiration returned to normal. Checking his compass heading he resumed the trek, slowing the pace a bit and trying to control his breathing. Once he found the bike he would have to shed all his gear, anything that might identify him as a foreign agent and continue on dead reckoning and the knowledge gained from weeks of studying maps.
By the time the day was drawing to an end, the forest was beginning to thin out, and Larry thought he must be approaching the location where the bike had been hidden. It was then that he heard the voices and realized they must be fairly close since sound did not travel far in the woods. He quietly shed his pack, took a nondescript revolver which, along with a substantial hunting knife, both of German manufacture, were his only weapons, and proceeded softly, using the still plentiful trees as cover.
Moving from tree to tree he homed in on the sounds, which became more distinct and now seemed to be several people arguing. He would have preferred to simply give them a wide berth and move on except that they had to be quite close to the hidden bike, a much needed asset if he was to make it to Munich on schedule. Peering around a large oak, Larry saw three boys who all seemed to be about nine or ten years old, each with a hand on an old and battered looking blue bicycle partly covered by dirt and the detritus of the forest floor —— obviously his intended transportation and now the object of the youthful argument. It was not easy to divide a bike into three equal portions. He was not sure what to do and so he retreated behind the oak to try to formulate some kind of plan of action.
However, before anything came to mind, the boys began to move away with the bike in tow, each securing their right of ownership by a small hand holding firmly to some part of the battered, blue cycle. Larry watched as they continued north in the direction of a road that he knew lay some 200 meters away. From a safe distance he followed behind, harboring the faint hope that they might leave the bike while they sought council on the division of property, or perhaps would hide it again in some new place where the person who first secreted it away couldn't reclaim it, while they decided on the safest and most equitable course of action. Equitable at least for them if not for the most recent owner. The boys emerged from the woods, which ended rather abruptly less than 25 meters from the roadway, and they continued their arguing as they walked, hampered in their bombast by the fact that they each had only one available arm with which to gesticulate and advance their position. Larry stayed behind and watched from behind the last large tree at the very edge of the forest before it gave way to the meadow that bordered the gray black macadam snaking its way through the countryside. His hopes were fading rapidly, only to be dashed even further in the next minute. The three youths had reached the road when they suddenly paused in their expostulation and turned to the left, looking anxiously up the road. Approaching at a fast clip was an open car with four German soldiers, returning, Larry surmised, from patrol duty farther to the West.
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