Crossword

by Alan Bricklin

  "Read it."

  "General Heinrich Schroeder, commander Wehrmacht forces Northern Italy, dead. Initial reports indicate murder by partisans. The latter not yet confirmed."

  "Send them a reply. Our thanks and please keep us appraised of any further developments." Bill nodded his assent and retreated to the anteroom to encode the reply, while Dulles stood there thinking. Partisans. Another unanswered question. But one less player in the game.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  "Sveglia! E tempo o di alzarsi. Che cosa e la materia?"

  Larry shot up in bed, supporting his torso on his elbows, then, with a groan, settled back on the mattress.

  "Lorenz, thank God you are awake." Maria crossed herself, then fought back a tear as she stood up from the chair and went to the bedside, gently placing her hand on his shoulder.

  "My mother was calling me. I was late for school and still in bed."

  "It's OK. You don't have to go anywhere now and you don't have to worry. You've had a couple of bad days."

  "Only a couple?" He managed a weak grin, an effort, but worth it, he thought, seeing the smile it elicited on Maria's face.

  She wiped away tears with the palms of her hand before continuing, "You spoke to your mother, your father and someone called Giepo. That's short for Giuseppi, isn't it?"

  "Damn. You speak Italian, don't you?"

  "Some. My mother was Italian. I told you. Remember?"

  "Yes, so did General Schroeder." Larry paused to adjust himself in bed, wincing slightly as he changed positions. "What did I say?"

  "It was snatches of conversation, a few words, sometimes a sentence. Without context, it had no meaning for me."

  "And to Giepo, what did I say?"

  "Some of the words were unknown to me but you seemed to be talking about women. I remember my father saying a few of those words, and my mother yelling at him for using them." She suppressed a giggle as she said this, then went on, "Who is Giepo?"

  "He's a friend of mine from the neighborhood where I grew up. God, I'm sorry Maria, I hope I didn't offend you."

  "Nonsense. You were unconscious and who knows what a man might say in that condition. A friend told me once that most of what's said like that is not true anyway, like a dream. Now rest. I will get you some soup."

  "Maria?"

  "Yes?"

  "How long have I been here and what are my injuries like?"

  "Two days; and you were very lucky. No more talking now." She turned and walked out of the room, looking over her shoulder as she reached the threshold, and saying softly, "Especially not to Giepo." Larry groaned.

  * *

  Franz Schluter was a very inquisitive eleven-year old, a blond haired mass of energy with dark blue eyes that always seemed to be darting about the room. It was as if he quickly lost interest in wherever he was at the moment and had to move on, to find someplace new and exciting, and where, he hoped, there was an adventure to be had. Life on a farm was not for him and he looked forward to the day when he was old enough to leave home and begin a life of action, maybe even be a soldier like his father, although it didn't seem to him that his dad had been particularly anxious to leave the farm.

  When he noticed that there was some kind of activity at the old deserted Reichmann barn, a scene that he was barely able to discern as he peered out into the twilight from the hayloft of his family's barn down the road, he decided it definitely warranted exploration. The next day, after he helped his mother with the planting and completed his other chores, Franz set off down the road to see what adventure might await him. Arriving at the old barn he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. One of the dilapidated doors was partly opened, sagging at the hinges and slumping onto the ground, but he wasn't sure if it hadn't always been that way. He walked up the dirt path and peered inside, the gloomy interior not inviting at all, and decided that a circumnavigation of the exterior should be the first order of exploration for him. As Franz rounded the back end of the barn, his eyes widened, for before him was a military car, swastikas painted on the sides and a small flag protruding from mounts on each of the front fenders. "Wow," he said out loud, "This must belong to a general." Why, Franz wondered, would a general leave his car parked behind the Reichmann's barn? Maybe they're having a secret meeting inside. I'll bet that's why the door's open. Resisting an impulse to run back the way he had come, Franz cautiously approached the car and looked inside, hoping he might see a machine gun or something he would find exciting, but observed only an empty interior with a thin layer of dust. He circled once around the car, then continued a slow perambulation of the barn, pausing and looking in whenever a chink or discontinuity presented itself, but unable to see anymore than when he first glanced in at the main entrance.

  Returning once again to the front of the barn, it was apparent to him as an explorer and adventurer, that a more thorough examination of the interior would be required, in spite of its dark and ominous appearance; after all, he thought, "How can an adventurer be scared of an adventure?" In spite of his mental bravado, it was with hesitant steps that he walked into the gloom, blinked several times as his eyes accommodated to the reduced light, and slowly began his inspection. After ten minutes he saw nothing unusual or very exciting, just broken tools, bits of rope and moldering bales of hay. As he traced his fingers over an old harness nailed to a post he knocked over the long handle of some unknown broken implement, which landed on the remains of an old metal basin, the loud clang it made reverberating through the capacious interior. From force of habit he immediately picked up the handle, useless though it was, and replaced it against the upright before heading for the bright light of the entrance. Franz had taken no more than two paces when he stopped in his tracks and froze at the sound of a knocking coming from within the barn. After ten seconds mobility returned to his small body and he spun around, trying to localize the continuing and repetitive sound, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere and he saw nothing. He looked up at the roof and the overhanging storage level. Nothing. He paced off an ever widening spiral and it was soon obvious that the thumping was coming from one corner of the barn, and after concentrating his efforts there he was rewarded by the sound of a voice that seemed to be coming from beneath his feet. A close inspection of the floor revealed the trap door and considerable effort on his part got it open.

  "Oh, thank God!" A woman's voice floated up to him, weakened and hoarse. On his hands and knees he peered over the edge into the darkness of the opening and could make out a human form at the bottom. He was glad it was human because he had heard of troll-like creatures that lurked in old buildings as well as under bridges. "Who is that up there?"

  "It's me, Franz Schluter." Feeling that his response was appropriate and sufficient, he said no more but waited politely. A sigh emanated from below.

  "Franz, how old are you?"

  "Eleven."

  "Well, Franz, would you get me a ladder so I can get out of here."

  "What are you doing down there?"

  "Please, just get me a ladder."

  "I don't have one. How did you get down there?"

  The woman's voice, relatively calm until now, came blasting upward in a shriek. "Get me a fucking ladder you little shit! Get you father to bring one right away. I'm an important person and it's urgent that I get to Munich."

  Franz didn't think she would be interested in hearing that his father was not at home so he just yelled, "Yes ma'am," as he dashed for the door.

  It was almost an hour until help came, and Eva, who had been resigned to death, growing almost philosophical as she sat in the dark, hellish confines of the cellar, had returned to her usual arrogant, strident and egotistical self. Unable to climb the skeleton remains of the ladder and unable to force the trap door open, she was willing to accept her fate, but now that she was about to be freed she saw no reason not to continue with her previous plans, and, moreover, the rage that had been suppressed when retribution seemed impossible was now unleashed. The cave like sol
itude had sparked no humanistic or religious epiphany in the cold soul of this succubus.

  When men returned with a light, ladder and blankets, Eva was extricated in short order. As to the questioning stares upon seeing the body of a dead soldier in the cellar, she simply responded that he was a spy and she must be taken to SS headquarters in Munich immediately. When asked by the men folk what they should do with the body, she replied, "I don't care; why don't you just leave him there and close the door."

  The locals were all too happy to acquiesce to her wishes, especially the part about getting her to Munich right away. Out of sight, out of mind.

  Franz hadn't mentioned to anyone about the staff car, and no one had thought to look behind the barn, so for the next several days, after he finished his work, he found himself behind the wheel of a black Mercedes, driving off to a new adventure.

  * *

  Maria set up a small table next to the bed so Larry didn't have to eat his meals in bed, nor would he have to walk into the room at the far side of the house where the family ate. In point of fact, once he awoke and started eating, he rapidly regained his strength and could easily have walked completely around the rather large farmhouse if he desired, although it was likely that Maria would have insisted that he not exert himself in such a way. Of course, the real reason she had brought in the table was so that she could spend time with him away from the numerous family members and friends that always seemed to be around, and Larry was only too happy with the arrangement in that regard.

  They had just finished a meal that consisted of a large bowl of mixed vegetables in a broth thickened with flour, sort of a cross between a soup and a vegetable stew. Out of deference to his recuperation, Larry was apportioned a small piece of meat, a commodity in short supply, even on a farm. Larry pushed his bowl away, sopping up the last of the liquid in his remaining piece of bread, and sat staring at Maria who was finishing the last of her smaller portion. He liked looking at her and it was almost hypnotic, requiring a conscious effort to pull himself back and return his thoughts to the mission which had brought him into Germany. She looked up and caught his eyes on her, feeing something of the same emotions that she was sure he felt.

  Larry took a sip of water and decided that it was time to have the discussion that Maria had adroitly avoided since he awoke. He knew that he had suffered a concussion when a hefty piece of the car slammed into him as he was running for safety, and that no major bones were broken, although he figured he broke at least one, maybe two, ribs, notwithstanding the fact that the local farmer who served as the closest approximation to a doctor that the small rural community was blessed with, thought otherwise. Having broken ribs twice before, once in a soccer collision and once when a brother with a baseball bat took exception to Larry dating his sister, it was not a sensation to be confused with mere bruising. As to internal injuries, the great fear the "doctor" had had, the practical answer was to simply wait and see; if there were anything serious it would make itself known soon enough. Larry healed quickly and actually felt much better than his bruised and battered body implied to the casual medical observer, and so it was time to face the crux of the situation, which was that he was not on a vacation in southern Germany but had to exit as quickly as possible with his dual cargo. "You said that the plutonium is safe and out of the way, and everyone has been told to keep their distance from it." He felt compelled to reiterate what he had said before, almost with his first breath when he awoke, out of concern for the family that harbored him, putting themselves in peril, while he recuperated.

  Maria patiently replied, as she had each time Larry asked. "They put it in an old potato sack and left it in an unused corner of their barn, surrounded and covered by bales of hay, and all of the children have been sternly warned to stay away."

  "Good. It's time we made plans to get to where we can cross into Switzerland. The first thing ... "

  She interrupted. "You are not ready yet."

  "I know. Not now, but in a day or two. Every day we delay makes it that much more difficult. Those who will help us will check the rendezvous points for only so long."

  "You need at least a week."

  "What day is it?"

  "Tuesday."

  "We'll leave Friday morning." His voice sent the message that there would be no compromise. "Traveling as a couple will arouse less suspicion and we should be able to cover the remaining distance in about four days."

  "The farmer said he can arrange to take us part way."

  "I don't want to put them at risk. The war may be close to over, but the Nazis still shoot traitors, and that's what he'd be called."

  "He knows how far he can safely travel without anyone asking questions, and besides, he owes you the life of two of his children, a debt that he feels honor bound to repay."

  "OK, then. That will increase our chances a bit. How are his children doing?"

  "One of the boys has a broken ankle and some kind of injury to his knee from the horse, the other has superficial burns and a nasty gash on the forehead, which does seem to be healing alright, although he'll have a pretty big scar. The girl looks like she's back to normal, but sometimes I see her standing off by herself and just staring up at the sky. I think her scars are inside."

  "And the boy that was killed?"

  "What can one say? They buried him the next day, thankful that at least you had kept him from being burned beyond recognition. Their grief was overwhelming, but they are very private people, and they returned to work afterwards, their tears dried and their mourning tucked away inside somewhere, except for the mother, who I sometimes find in the kitchen, wiping her eyes as soon as I enter."

  "Death can be almost an abstraction, especially from five thousand feet in the air, but when it's close to you it's something palpable, something that stays with you and can't be washed off or ripped from your soul. The best you can hope for is that it may be worn thin with time." Thoughts of his own mortality intruded into his consciousness and with them came questions, unanswered and confusing, but which he could not face at the moment. "Did the military come to investigate the attack site? Were they asking questions of any of the farmers around here —— what they saw, what they heard?"

  "There was little interest on their part. The soldiers were being transferred from the north to somewhere distant from here so there were no personal connections to anyone at the local garrison. They merely removed the remains, picked up a few rifles that were intact and then pushed the wreckage to the side of the road, and the only reason they did that was because the locals made a big fuss about them leaving everything to block the way."

  "No questions about who might have been in the staff car and where they got to? There were no bodies near it."

  "But there were. A few of the men carried the remains of a couple of soldiers, unrecognizable from the blast and the fire, and dumped them near the car."

  "These are good people here."

  "They have no love for Hitler or the Nazi party. Their lives have not been improved by this war, even from the beginning."

  "When we leave, we can't take very much with us, so if you need to put aside the necessities you'll need for a couple of days on the road, you might want to get that done in advance. The plutonium will be easiest for me to carry if I could put it in a knapsack I could wear over my shoulders. Do they have something like that?"

  "If not, I'm sure one could be fashioned. But, Lorenz, if it's so dangerous and we all have to stay away from it, how come you are able to carry it? And what about me? I picked up that little crate it was in and took it to the truck that brought us hear."

  "Those are questions we need to talk about. Let's take a walk; we have about an hour of daylight left. It's safe to wander along the paths through their fields; anyone on the road is unlikely to even see us."

  "Let me get my coat and borrow one for you." Maria carried the dishes away and returned a few minutes later carrying a jacket for Larry, who slipped it on and followed her to the door at the rear
of the house.

  They walked in silence for a while surrounded by winter wheat, not yet shoulder height, the green-yellow shoots swaying in a soft evening breeze, before Larry began a conversation that he anticipated would be difficult for him. "Maria, I have to tell you some things and it's not easy for me. You know that the plutonium is dangerous, that's why it was packed in all that shielding. When you carried it to the truck, and if you handled it at any other time, you were exposed to the danger; but I'm not a scientist and I don't know if the time you were in contact with it was enough to do you serious harm. Once we're in Switzerland the doctors there can check you out. They're very good and I'm sure they could do something for the short exposure you had. I'm really sorry that it had to happen."

  "There is more than enough for all of us to be sorry about. I could have died on a number of occasions during the last two weeks, but I didn't, and I'm thankful for that, so I think now I will just have to learn to face each day without guarantees and be satisfied with that. You, Lorenz, however, are planning to carry this plutonium with you, close to your body, for several days. What will that do to you?"

  "It will kill me." As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted having simply blurted it out like that, but there was, he thought, really no way to sugar coat what had to be said. The expression on Maria's face, fleeting disbelief followed by horror as she realized the seriousness in his voice, penetrated to his very depths, as deep as any dagger thrust into his heart.

  "No, Lorenz, please, tell me that is not so. You can't die from this stupid lump of metal, not after all you've been through. Just toss it into a river like we did with the keys. I don't want you to die." She stopped walking and turned to him, taking his two hands in hers, her tears unimpeded and free to flow down her cheeks.

  "I'm dying anyway."

  "No. That is not so. You handled it even less than me."

  "It's not the plutonium. I have cancer and it's going to kill me. That's why it doesn't matter how much contact I have with the plutonium; one way or the other I ... " His voice trailed off, leaving the thought unsaid, concerned for Maria's feelings and scared to once more bring to the fore emotions which he had tried, not very successfully, to bury after his initial confrontation with them.