Crossword

by Alan Bricklin

  There followed several sharp reports and three of the Germans collapsed on the spot. Two of the three that remained standing were looking around, panicked, trying to figure out who was firing on them and from where. One of them, spying Larry still on his feet, aimed his rifle at him, considering him to be a reasonable target. The third German, whose rifle was already in firing position, let loose two quick shots, dropping Larry's would be assassin, and, swiveling slightly, fired off two additional rounds at the last remaining soldier, a frightened youth not yet out of his teens.

  For Larry, the situation had a surreal quality, a cacophony of shouts and shots, a blur of movement, all over in a matter of seconds. He was aware of essentially what had happened, bodies dropping, the General killing the former "Maria," one German killing two other soldiers, all of it playing out before him; but of its significance he knew nothing. It wasn't until he turned to Maria, the last shots echoing through the forest, that he saw her body crumpled next to him, an expanding stain of blood spreading over her midsection. He dropped to his knees, horror on his face, took her torso in his arms and gently raised it to his lap, cradling her head.

  Three men emerged from the trees bordering the clearing, speaking rapidly as they hastily checked the bodies of the fallen Germans, then conferred with the one remaining "German soldier." In some recess of his brain Larry was aware that they were speaking Italian.

  When they came over to Larry, he was kneeling next to Maria, tears falling and running down his face, washing a path in the dirt that caked his face. One of the men squatted next to Larry and said in broken English, "She is with you?"

  Without thinking, Larry responded in Italian, causing raised eyebrows in the men that stood around him. "Yes, we've got to save her." That seemed to trigger something in Larry, to put him into another state, the efficiency of the field operative coming to the fore, and he began to do what he had been taught about first aid. First, stop the bleeding. He reached into her pack and removed a scarf, folded it into a pad and, after moving the remains of her blouse out of the way, applied it as a compress to the wound.

  The man next to him was silent for a moment, rubbing his hand over the stubble on his face, then said, "We've been sent to get you and that thing you carry across the border into Switzerland. My name is Fabrizio, and we must hurry. My men will get your woman to safety. There is a house not far from here that will be safe, but they must move quickly, before the Germans come to investigate."

  "I won't leave her. She has to come with us."

  "She won't survive the journey, nor will any of us if we have to take her."

  Maria, whose breathing was becoming labored, slid her hand to Larry, the cold fingers closing around his wrist. "He's right. Go with him and complete the mission you came all this way for. It will be better for me, for all of us, if you leave me in their hands."

  "I can't. We have to be together for whatever time we have."

  "I don't want to die, and I surely will if you try to take me with you now. Go. When I am well I will find you."

  Fabrizio stood and put his hand on Larry's shoulder. "Quickly, we must get started." He spoke urgently to his men, and one of them scooped Maria up in his arms, Larry rising in unison. He kissed Maria on her lips, and the chill he felt there sent a shiver through his body, her icy flesh the medium of what he feared would be their final farewell.

  Larry grabbed his pack, slung it over his shoulders and followed the Italian partisan deeper into the woods, his eyes still wet with tears.

  * *

  It took only a short time for Larry's head to clear sufficiently to evaluate their situation. The first thing he realized was that they were moving in an easterly direction, away from the German patrol but also away from the Swiss border, which lay to the west. Not wanting to do or say anything that would impede their progress at a time when the most important thing was to distance themselves from the remainder of Gerhard's troops, he held his tongue and channeled all his effort and attention into making headway and keeping a lookout for danger.

  After an hour Fabrizio paused and took a short drink of water before passing the battered canteen to Larry who raised it to his lips for an equally frugal drink. He screwed on the lid, then, as he returned it to Fabrizio, said, "I'm sure you know that we're distancing ourselves from the Swiss border as well as the Nazis. Could you share with me what you have in mind?"

  "If we were lucky, with no Germans around, we would have entered the woods to the west, with nothing between us and the border, but it was too much to ask for. I had hoped, even prayed, but God has not always been gracious to me. A man like me, maybe I'm better off if He just doesn't notice me. Sometimes I think, better off if we just stay out of each other's way." He fell silent for a moment, then crossed himself, as if to add, "But why take chances." He stuck the canteen back in his pack before continuing. "Without that General to lead them, those old men and boys may simply decide to go back to their farms and wait for the allies from behind a plough rather than a machine gun. That's why he was the first one I shot. Cut off the head of a snake and the body wriggles around for a while, but doesn't really get anywhere. But if there's anyone left who can think, they'll expect us to go north, where the Swiss border extends to the east and we would have a shorter distance to travel."

  "So we go south?"

  "Yes. To near Klaus, or perhaps Sulz. There is a small river there. Perhaps it will be of some use to us. But first we have to go up, into the mountains, where we will be safer, before we can turn to the south."

  "Do you think they'll follow us?"

  He shrugged, but went on, "I do not think so. They are not from around here and do not know the mountains. Maybe, if they're superstitious, they are even afraid of them. Besides, when they find their slain comrades, they will think it must have been a much larger force that did it. Old or young, the Germans are still arrogant."

  "Well, it would be nice if they just went home."

  Fabrizio shrugged again. "Like I told you, I am on the left side of God, so who knows? Come, we must get moving." He picked up his pack and headed off. Conversation ended.

  They had been on the go for about five hours at a rapid pace, and the mountainous terrain made Larry's legs ache and his lungs burn, but it wasn't the pain that kept intruding into consciousness at random moments, even as he negotiated rocky trails and dense forest. Thoughts of Maria populated the forest and mountains. Thoughts of Maria rarely left his mind except for the most arduous parts of the journey, where focus and concentration were required to make a particular ascent or keep from falling off a ledge. Thoughts of Maria caused him anguish and pain. Thoughts of Maria brought joy to his heart and a smile to his face, and made Fabrizio wonder, when he glanced back at Larry, why this American of Italian descent would occasionally have a broad smile on his face even as he negotiated the difficult trail.

  Some time between the fifth and sixth hour Larry realized that what he had been experiencing was a mental eulogy for Maria, a series of images that had been spooled into a loop, playing continuously behind his eyes. Vignettes of their time together. But now, as the continuing mental images were no longer sufficient to banish from his thoughts the reality which he had so recently experienced, the highs were not as joyful as at first, while the lows were leading him toward an ever deepening despondency.

  Abruptly, as he was stepping over the trunk of a fallen tree, the images stopped, or, more precisely, Larry shut off the projector. This is crazy. I have her dead and buried already. There's no reason to believe that she won't get the medical care she needs. If these men could infiltrate a German platoon, they could get her to a safe house and a doctor. Maria is alive now and will stay that way. I will make it back to her and bring her to safety because that's what I believe and that's the promise I made to General Schroeder.

  And with the firm, unshakable belief that Maria would survive, thoughts of her faded from his consciousness for the time being, and he concentrated on picking up the pace. Fabrizio had obvi
ously not been going as fast as he would have liked, the impatient look on his face giving mute testimony to his displeasure with Larry. Digging in, both mentally and physically, Larry pumped his legs in an increasing cadence and was soon nipping at his guide's heels. The leader of the partisans was surprised, then pleased, and soon the pair was rapidly closing the distance to their new crossing point.

  They passed through forests of spruce, fir, larch and pine, small animals scurrying out of their way. Numerous Alpine Chough flocked overhead, while Alpine Accentors provided a staccato background of chirping and sharp calls, perhaps voicing their displeasure at being disturbed or merely gossiping with their neighbors. While pausing by a running brook overflowing its banks with snow melt from the alps, Larry's eyes wandered skyward, in time to see a Golden Eagle diving toward the far bank, then pulling up at the last second, talons extended, their death grip ending the life of a large white and gray rabbit. The proud bird stood there for perhaps thirty seconds, its dark brown body shimmering in the late afternoon sun, before once more seeking the ocean of air, beating into the wind until it achieved altitude, then spreading wings that spanned over six feet to sail home to its aerie. The image struck a chord with Larry —— feelings of wonder, pride and determination resonating through his mind and providing an elevation of spirit and a rejuvenation of tired muscles. He didn't know just what it was that affected him so. Perhaps it was the sight of an eagle, the symbol of his country, soaring freely in the heavens and heading home. Larry didn't know, but wasted no time on pondering the question, and shouldered his pack, not waiting for Fabrizio, and started off in the direction in which they had been heading. He was, however, surprised to find a tear running down his cheek.

  Fabrizio kept up a grueling pace until night had fallen, then continued at a somewhat slower pace, slower only because of the dark sky and fear of injury from unseen obstacles. Tangled roots or protruding rocks could catch a foot and snap an ankle or damage a knee beyond walking. He didn't want to fail so close to the finish. Larry guessed it was close to midnight when they finally stopped for more than a two minute rest. Fabrizio pulled a salami from his pack and cut Larry a generous serving, then broke a piece of hard cheese in two and also passed half to this young man he was bound to guide. After they had been munching for several minutes, the partisan produced a bottle of wine, pulling out the protruding cork with his teeth and taking a long swig before passing the bottle to Larry.

  "We'll rest here for an hour, then continue. I want to cross the Rhine while it's still dark. The Swiss are as bad as the Germans when it comes to their borders."

  "How will we cross?"

  "There is a boat hidden, but it's farther to the north, and there will probably be Germans waiting there, so it's of no use to us. We will just have to find another one and steal it, or force someone to ferry us. Any bridges left standing will be heavily guarded." Almost as an afterthought he added, "We may have to swim. A pause. May it please God we find a boat." He quickly crossed himself.

  Larry didn't relish the thought of swimming carrying what now felt like a thirty pound bowling ball, but didn't pursue it. "I never thanked you or your men for what you did. That was quite a feat you guys pulled off."

  Fabrizio smiled through a mouthful of salami and mimed a bow. "Yes, you're right about that. It was damn good."

  "And dangerous, too. Why do you do it?"

  "I don't want no Nazis fucking with my country. I'd like to kick their asses back to Berlin." He took another pull at the bottle. "Besides, a man's got to make a living."

  "They pay you for this stuff you do?"

  "Yeah, sure."

  "Who pays you. Certainly not Mussolini."

  "Different people. There's always someone who needs something done and is willing to pay for it. Sometimes we work for free. It's not much, but it helps. Most of us have families. You get paid, don't you?"

  "I do. My Uncle Sam pays me."

  Fabrizio let out a big laugh. "Your family pays your wages? Tell your uncle I want to work for him so I can get rich like you Americans."

  " 'Uncle Sam' is what we call the government. I get a paycheck every month."

  "So, we are alike, the two of us. Both paid soldiers. Both hate the Nazis."

  "Yup, I guess you're right." They both fell silent, leaning back on a rock or tree trunk, eyes closed. Sleep eluded both of them, each caught up in private thoughts. Fabrizio, in spite of his rough exterior, was an emotional man in whom feelings ran deep, and he agonized over what was to come. Larry's thoughts churned inside him like the turbulent progress of a glacier fed stream in summer as it cascaded down from the heights. Thoughts of his own death interspersed with images of Maria, and, for the first time since he had entered Germany, images of his parents who he would never see again. A terrible montage of gloom and heartbreak.

  Forty-five minutes after they began their break, Fabrizio stood, brushing dirt and pine needles from his pants, stretched and motioned to Larry to 'saddle up.' Neither one cared that their hour rest was shorted, both glad for a diversion from their ruminations.

  They began their descent even as they continued in a southward direction, reaching the flat terrain of the Rhine Valley just to the north of Sulz. When they came to the tributary that flowed to the Rhine, Fabrizio decided it would be safer to follow it on foot, rather than to be exposed on the water where there was no cover. It was quick progress to the Rhine itself and they were unmolested during the rapid traverse. At the river's edge there were several large motorized boats, none suitable for a quick snatch. About a mile upstream on the tributary, Larry had noticed a small row boat, but they had decided to stick to their plan of staying off the water until they reached the Rhine, a mistake, as it turned out, and one that necessitated now doubling back, always a dangerous tactic. Where once they had passed unseen, or at least ignored, a second excursion was much more likely to arouse suspicion. Before they left the bank of the Rhine, Fabrizio had Larry hide in the midst of a dense cluster of brush. "If I get into trouble or don't come back in ten minutes, you're on your own." With no further explanation, and before Larry could say anything, he dashed off and was quickly lost in the darkness. Larry barely had time to think about contingencies when he heard footsteps on the sandy soil, and his hand instinctively grabbed the handle of the sidearm he had taken from one of the fallen soldiers at the ambush. A deep whisper, "It's me, Fabrizio." Two wooden objects poked into the small space between the bushes, followed by his companion, a crafty grin on his face. "Oars. There will be none with that other boat we saw. It makes it too easy to steal. I got these from the dinghy on the deck of that big boat we saw. Take one and let's get out of here, fast. This place worries me."

  At a fast trot they covered the distance back to the rowboat in short order, and, pausing only for a quick look around, they pushed off and softly paddled out into the current. The water flowed most rapidly in the center and they both agreed that speed was now more important than trying to remain hidden near the foliage along the bank. There were at least two hours of darkness left before first light and they counted on either not being seen or being mistaken for predawn fishermen. To that end, Larry had broken off a slender branch before they boarded and now held it like a fishing pole while Fabrizio bent his back to the oars. Running with the current they reached the Rhine in ten minutes, where Fabrizio had to fight the whirling currents where the two bodies of water met. They were swept rapidly northward while he struggled to guide the small craft out into the large river and to the far shore before being carried beyond their destination. Larry tried using the branch as a tiller but it seemed to do nothing except kick up spray. Neither of them were accomplished boatmen, and in minutes the two found themselves in the middle of the Rhine, water splashing over the bow of a runaway boat. Larry though that maybe he would end up swimming after all. Finally, after several trials, Fabrizio was able to dig one of the oars into the water and turn the bow toward the far shore. They were still being carried north at a fast clip, but slow
ly, they inched towards the western bank. After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, the small craft broke free from the breakneck northward dash of the river to Germany, and gently floated in the lateral eddy.

  "Take these," Fabrizio said, "my arms are going to fall off. You row, but stay out of the current. I'll try to get our bearings." They carefully traded places, and Larry pulled with determination, angling toward the Swiss side but staying at what he hoped was a distance that might hide their presence. "I think that's Mäder up ahead on the German side. Get us into the shore. The location for the rendezvous is not far. Soon this business will be finished."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The C.O. of the camp at Altstatten expected Templeton, having been notified by Dulles that he would be with them for a few days hoping to find out information about an operation that seemed to be in jeopardy, and he was ready to provide whatever logistical support he could. There was, however, little that Templeton required of him, preferring to handle things on his own, a request that the C.O. did not find unusual when dealing with saboteurs, secret agents, spies and their handlers. For Julian it worked out well; was, in fact, a necessity if he was to pull off the slight of hand that he had in mind. He had to divert a precious cargo to a wealthy Swiss merchant, and perhaps make a German general disappear, all of this happening quickly and secretly. Given the unknowns of the operation, he couldn't be sure exactly who he would be meeting, but in any case, for all except the few people involved, the ones who really knew, it would never have taken place. Several days waiting in vain for an agent that never appeared and Templeton would sadly report another operation gone terribly wrong, the operative presumed lost behind enemy lines, dead or captured. He was counting on Fabrizio, a man quick with both a knife and a gun, used to working in the shadows even before the war and his metamorphosis into a freedom fighter, to take care of Larry if Gerhard had not already dispatched him. If Gerhard showed up, well, he would be taken care of, too. The plutonium would be whisked away immediately by Julian and Gottier's representative.