Maria's fear was evident while Eva showed exasperation, still playing the roll of the falsely accused. Larry cocked the trigger, merely to add authority and gravity to his demand, then herded them both inside and had them each sit on hay bales about two meters from each other, close enough so it would take only a slight movement of the hand to switch aim from one to the other. "Both of you just sit there and don't say anything." He quietly eased the hammer forward until it settled into its resting position, more secure and less prone to accidental discharge, and then began to pace back and forth, never taking his eyes off of the two women. Which one was lying? It wasn't that important to find out what the imposter intended to do; whatever it was it was certain to be counter to the objective of the mission, but he did need to know who, so they could be eliminated or neutralized. Two beautiful women, one beautiful and sinister enemy.
"Lorenz, time is rushing by. We must get going."
"I said to keep quiet."
He continued his pacing and thinking, the warmth inside the barn making his skin moist and adding to the discomfort he already felt. Larry's head throbbed and he massaged his forehead as he ambled to and fro behind the seated women.
"Sir, please, my arms hurt so and it's hot in here; could you untie my hands? I promise I won't move."
"She's trying to trick us, don't let her loose," Eva interjected.
"Silence!"
Ignoring his command, Eva continued, "You were shown my picture, I know that, and we exchanged the proper codes. This other woman is an imposter."
"Heinrich sent word to me that a foreign visitor would call on me with special instructions," Maria said. "He was also to send a password, some kind of code so I would know that this visitor was the proper one, but it never arrived. Are you that man?"
"Ha! An imposter," yelled Eva.
She was right and he knew it. But he also knew that operations could be compromised at any point, from inception to denouement, and in the world of espionage nothing is as it seems. He stood behind Maria and held the barrel of the gun to the back of her head, his sweaty hand tensed around the butt, index finger curled through the trigger guard, then cautiously reached down and loosened the short segment of rope binding her hands. Stepping back, he watched as she disentangled her hands, brought them forward, massaging her wrists while she shrugged and rotated her shoulders in an effort to ease the pain of hours spent trussed. She alternately flexed and extended her neck, rotated it right, then left, and finally reached slowly behind her and wiped the back of her neck, lifting damp hair and leaving the skin exposed to cool as the moisture evaporated. Larry watched all this as he continued to roll the conundrum around in his mind, looking at it from various angles, trying to find the perspective that would reveal the solution. Suddenly his eyes widened as recognition dawned, the sound of mental tumblers falling into place as the lock sprung open. "Maria."
"Yes," they both responded, turning to him as he spoke.
"You," turning his head to Eva, "go out to the car and get the rope that's in the trunk. There's several pieces, bring them all."
"I knew you would figure it out. But why don't we just shoot her? I'm sure she would do the same to us if she had the chance."
"Please, just do what I ask."
"Yes, Lorenz." She hurried out to the car.
"But Lorenz, sir, please do not believe that woman. She is evil and means us both harm."
"Stay where you are and don't say anything else."
Barely a minute later Eva returned, almost sashaying into the barn, three pieces of medium hemp swinging from her hand. All she needed, Larry thought, was a cowboy hat and boots to look like someone from a western movie, Tom Mix sauntering in after her. She came around behind Maria, glanced over her shoulder where Larry stood, then turned back to the frightened young woman sitting nervously on the bale of hay and began to play the ropes through her hands. It happened so quickly that Eva was unaware of anything until she was face down on the dirt floor, several pieces of straw protruding from her gaping mouth. In one swift motion Larry had swung one leg across hers and sent a powerful elbow into her upper back, taking her down instantly. He dropped down, his knee planted on her back, knocking the wind out of her, the forceful exhalation stirring up a small puff of dirt and straw. Pressing down firmly with one hand on the back of her neck, her face turned to one side, he shoved the gun to her temple and cocked the hammer just inches from her ear, an ominous and intimidating sound.
The rope had slipped from her grasp as she fell, and it lay at the feet of the now astonished Maria who had jumped up at the sound of the fracas behind her and stood, mouth agape, a confused although not unhappy expression on her face.
"Maria, take the rope and tie her hands behind her, then bring her feet up and tie them. Do the best you can, I'll adjust things later."
She hastened to do his bidding, looking at him as she worked. "Who is this woman? Do you know?"
With venom in her voice, Eva spat out, "I am the woman who will see you dead. My face will be the final image burnt into your eyes for all eternity as you drop into the grave."
"I don't even know her name and I don't care at this point", he replied. Maria started to say something but Larry silenced her with a hand signal; no sense in providing the snake in their midst with any more information than she already had.
"Lorenz, why do you persist in this mistaken identity. Untie me and you and I can both be wealthy and away from this cesspool of a country."
"Save it, sister, it's over for you."
"You stupid, arrogant, foreign piece of shit. I will personally make you suffer before you die. Cut off your balls and stuff them in your mouth to stifle the screams. Then I'll slice ... "
Ignoring the rest of her sadistic anatomic diatribe, he turned to Maria, slowly released the hammer, and handed her the gun, butt forward. "Do you know how to use this?"
"The General trained me in the use of handguns as well as rifles. I don't like them but I know how to fire all of them." She accepted the weapon, balancing the weight in her hand, her fingers remembering the hours of practicing, and instinctively finding the proper position. "And he said that my aim was excellent."
Larry smiled. How the worm has turned. "Stay back another meter so you're well out of her reach while I check the knots. If she tries anything, shoot her, but try not to hit me."
"Just tell me where you want the bullet to hit her." And for emphasis, she pulled back the hammer and leveled the revolver at the back of Eva's head.
Larry cinched in the rope a bit, but found the ties to be fairly secure. He removed his knife from his pocket and cut off a portion of the rope, using this remaining length to wrap around her waist and then her shoulders, bringing the ends up above her head and tying them off in a loop. Satisfied with his work, he stood, motioned for Maria to stay where she was, and hurried outside to the car, where he grabbed the dead soldier by the belt and dragged him into the barn. He rummaged through his pockets for anything that might be of use, pocketing a small amount of money and quickly looking through his papers. None of those would serve any purpose since there was no way he could pass for a German soldier if stopped. The jacket though, might prove useful; viewed from a distance, the coat, the hat he had seen on the seat and the car itself might suffice to improve his chances of safe passage, so he removed this along with the aide's holster and sidearm. Finished, he tugged him the remaining distance to the cellar and pushed him down the opening, the body banging against the ladder on the way and taking out another of the weakened rungs before impacting on the floor with a thud. He caught a glimpse of Maria as he looked up and knew from her expression that she didn't particularly like what he had done to the corpse, although she said nothing, her lips taught, gun unwavering from its target.
Dead is dead. Larry knew this, but he, too, didn't like the idea of desecrating a fellow soldier and that's what he had done. At least that's what a part of his brain said to him. But he was strictly in operational mode and he would do th
at and more to accomplish his objective. Commitment, loyalty, patriotism. His father had been fiercely and unashamedly patriotic to his adopted homeland in a way that was only possible in an immigrant in the early part of the twentieth century, and these values had been impressed on his son practically from the first moment his head crowned in the back bedroom of the small row house in South Philadelphia, and his screams were added to the cacophony of the bustling ethnic neighborhood. Larry believed what his father taught him, still believed it and would go on believing it, sacrificing his life if necessary, in the service of his country. The willingness to offer up his own life for the safety of the United States of America was relatively easy compared to the rest of the things he might have to do. His father had provided him with the moral courage for the former, but the OSS had given him the stomach for the latter.
In each of us there is a depth, unplumbed by all but a few psychopaths and miscreants, where lurks the capability to commit acts abhorrent to members of any civilized society. Into this desolate dungeon of the soul he had been given entrée, to see things there he would rather not have seen, to know things he would rather have remained cryptic, to find things he would rather have remained hidden. It was a descent to a place from which some never returned; but they had given him a key and a moral compass and he had found his way, one of the fit, one of the lucky. The compass, though, did not always point true North and the boundary between the acceptable and the unspeakable was fluid, almost as if was a living creature, moving with the exigencies of the situation. In the end he had come to realize that each action was a conscious choice, a decision filtered through his upbringing, personal beliefs, training and a myriad of other factors operating at unconscious levels, and that he just had to trust that he would make the right judgment, knowing in a Kafkaesque way that there was no right or wrong when it came to what he did. The door to that dark realm remained closed, although not locked, and he knew that the time might come when he had to descend far, to lower himself to the depths.
Larry stirred from his brief reverie to see Maria looking worried, so he gave her a thumbs up, not sure what else to do, then said, "Almost done. We're out of here in a few minutes." He took the gun from her and continued, "Go out and drive the car you came in around to the back. The keys are in the ignition." With great alacrity she hurried out, eager to get away from what seemed to be unfolding in the increasing dimness of the barn. He dragged Eva to the opening, the short haul eliciting another diatribe of shouted invectives. I should kill you outright, you bitch, but all we need is twenty-four hours, forty-eight at the most, to make it to our lines. We all make mistakes, most unknown at the time, many of little import, but some spawn disaster, the consequences hurtling unseen out of left field at breakneck speed. For Larry, ignorance would not be bliss.
Working quickly, he hooked Eva to the pulley system and lowered her into the cellar, her rotating form nudging against the rail at intervals during its descent. She ended up lying partly on top of the soldier she had killed, and he thought that to be somehow appropriate. He tossed the rope down after her, then reached in with his leg and kicked out the top rung of the ladder, using a nearby piece of wood to break through the one below that, and was in the process of covering the now closed trap door with dirt and straw, when Maria returned.
"The car is out back. Here are the keys."
"Hold on to them. You're going to have to help me drag the plutonium out to the other car and help get it into the trunk." Passage over the floor of the barn was not that difficult, but it became arduous when they reached the rougher, more uneven ground outside. Nonetheless, in a relatively short time the heavy crate was at the rear of the remaining car, and by angling one end up and then both lifting up the other, they managed to seat it securely in the trunk, the heavy duty military suspension taking the weight with relative ease. Next to the vehicle was a small pile of supplies he had removed from the other car, including a spare can of gasoline, and these were also placed into the trunk. He had chosen this car because, although it was obviously a military staff car, unlike the one behind the barn, it lacked specific markings and was unlikely to be reported as missing since it had been given to Eva to be at her disposal. "You can get in now, I just have one more thing to do." He trotted around to where she had left the aide's car, lifted the hood and removed the distributor, then unfolded his knife and slashed each of the tires. Walking back, he heard the hiss of escaping air, the anthropomorphic sigh of a Mercedes staff car that knew, for it at least, the war was over and now there would be rest.
Larry slid behind the wheel, tossed the distributor on the floor in front of Maria, and turned over the engine, letting the powerful motor throb to full life before putting it in gear and pulling back onto the road. "The next stream or ditch we come to, we'll dump your keys and that gizmo on the floor in front of you."
"You mean the distributor?"
"First guns, now cars?"
"Actually, cars were first. It wasn't until things started to look bad that Heinrich trained me in the use of firearms." She let a moment of silence pass before she went on. "What did you do with that awful woman back there?"
"I didn't kill her." Maria looked dubious. "But she might die anyway. Depends. There's enough air down there for several days and she can get by without food or water for a time. Once she dehydrates a bit, the ropes will loosen and she can untie herself ... maybe. The ladder's trashed but she should be able to shinny up."
"Weakened and dehydrated?"
"Like I said, she might not make it."
No response, then, "What is going on? Why was I kidnapped and tortured? What was she trying to do?"
"Damned if I know."
"You don't seem to know an awful lot, but you've done a great deal to get this crate that the General hid. The war's almost over. Is it really that important?"
"Damn right."
Darkness settled over the countryside, and a small cloud of dust, kicked up from the dirt of the road, swirled in the vortex created by the passage of the car, and followed them down the highway in silence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
NORTH OF TVEDESTRAND, NORWAY. 13 APRIL, 1945
In the more Northern reaches of Europe it was also obvious to just about everyone that the war would soon be over and the Nazi empire, hailed to last a thousand years, would come to an end less than a decade from its birth. However, not everyone in the German military thought that defeat was a foregone conclusion, or at least they didn't espouse such beliefs, and the generals commanding the forces in Norway boldly declared to Hitler that Norway would be held at all costs. Such statements did not bode well for Sten who feared that a protracted struggle with a cornered enemy that saw no way out could lead to death and destruction on a scale that far surpassed the atrocities during the past four years. Further, he was not sure that he could survive such a struggle.
The invasion of Norway had begun on April 9th, 1940, and by June the Germans were firmly in control, even as Sten felt control of his own life slipping away. The resistance movement had provided purpose and direction, but he still felt that he could not get a grip on his own life; it was, he thought, like trying to hold a fistful of water. Eventually he just gave up and realized that life as he knew it would have to be put on hold until the invaders were driven out —— a feeling shared by many throughout the course of the conflict that engulfed the world. His fear and fatigue were fueled by concerns for his family. The conflict between duty to his country and shepherding a wife and child through perilous times had drained his energy, both physical and mental, to the point that Sten doubted his ability to keep up the fight much longer, and hence his dismay at the German proclamation that Norway would be held at all costs.
These thoughts occupied him more than his current task of picking his way through the woods North of the port city of Tvedestrand, an area whose contours, streams and forests were hardwired into his brain, no more concentration needed to navigate the region than one would expend in taking an afterno
on walk at home. Nor was he particularly interested in the middle aged man he had in tow, one of the conscripted German scientists from Norsk Hydro who had participated in the production of heavy water and plutonium at the hydroelectric plant until allied bombing and commando raids had halted production permanently.
Although the man had had essentially nothing to do for over a year, the concentration plant having been rendered non functional, he had not been recalled to Germany or reassigned, so he spent his days doing odd jobs around that part of the power station that remained intact, and taking long leisurely walks in the nearby mountains. With little to do and little interest from the Nazi party after the plant became irrelevant, he had a great deal of time to think during his strolls through the stark beauty of the surrounding countryside. Being an intelligent man who saw Hitler for what he was, he could only pity what had been done to the people of Norway and to their country. His basic humanity was apparent and several Norwegian workers at the plant, including one who was an active member of the resistance, began to engage him in occasional conversations, innocent and inconsequential without even a breath of sedition. Over the weeks and months this contact was assiduously cultivated, following a plan and schedule laid out by British intelligence, which had been alerted to this potential asset, until one day the casual talks could be ever so gently nudged in the direction of politics and the war. Once started, this line of discourse led relatively quickly to an admission by the disillusioned scientist that the interests of humanity as well as his personal fortunes would best be served if he went over to the allied cause. Today began the first day of that journey for Hulbart, Hulbart Gerlach, chemical engineer, and it was Sten's job to get him to the coast where he could be spirited away to be debriefed by the intelligence types in London.
Crossword Page 25