“Ok, ok just let me sit down and rest a minute in that chair over there .”
“Mr. Anders, where are you going? You will sit down here in front of me, now sit down.” He took out a pair of handcuffs and clamped one end to the heavy table leg and the other on one of Anders wrists.
“I Just…urgh… want to sit over there for a minute or so to catch my breath.”
Ara put her lips to my ear and whispered. “Now we know where the chair is! It’s in there and he’s trying to use it to escape!”
“Ahh, Mr. Anders, I see you want to sit in that nice comfortable chair over there. Just tell me how you arrived in Germany and you can sit down and collect yourself anywhere you want.”
“Look all I want to know is if your Führer wants to do the deal with me or not?”
“The Führer has stated he very much intends to do business with you, as soon as you tell us what we want to know. If you continue to refuse, we will have to take the next unpleasant measure.”
We looked at each other wondering what he meant by the next measure, some sort of truth serum? Being beat up more severely?
I whispered. “If we wait here any longer we’ll be caught, let’s get back to the trackers.”
Just as we turned to go back, two more security SS stepped out from around the far corner with their pistols pointed at us firing two shots over our heads as we tried to run.
“Halt, halt!”
We both stopped and raised our hands in the air dropping our weapons. A thought crossed my mind; there goes our “harmless bystanders” excuse, along with our only means of defense. The foremost card we had up our sleeve now, was the element of surprise with the power of the chair and the trackers. If we could somehow get to either, we could be bloody gone in a flash.
Just then, the men interrogating Anders, heard the shots and came out quickly. They looked at us and spoke to the two guards “Who are these two?”
One of them answered. “They were listening at the door and they were armed with these unusual pistols.”
“These weapons are the same type as the one we found on Anders. Take them up to the apartment across from the Führer and do not bother him with this. I will be up shortly to question them.” Then he spoke to us. “Englanders, yes?”
“Yes we are English.”
“Go with these men.”
They quickly began to march us down the hallway and up the first flight of stairs; then continuing on up to the third floor and to a room across from their Führer, Hitler.
This wasn’t the best scenario for us. We now had no weapons and were about to be questioned in an unappetizing way. We would just have to see this through till some means of escape presented itself. After being shuttled to the room we waited for almost two hours until finally the interrogator opened the door and stepped in. He was a scrawny little weasel of a man dressed in the same black uniform with that armband. Wearing large bifocals and smacked down hair, he had a pencil thin mustache over his top lip, and looked as if he would be totally defenseless without guards by his side. He slowly began to reach into his coat and we braced ourselves for the worst.
“Cigarette?”
We both heaved a sigh. “No, no thank you.”
“Ahh, you don’t smoke I see, some whiskey?”
“No thank you. Are you going to do the same thing to us as that man down on the basement floor?”
“Do you know Mr. Anders?”
“No we don’t, who is he?”
Sitting down, he lit a cigarette blowing some smoke in our direction. “Someone who is very stubborn, but he will talk sooner or later.
“Right now we only need to see your passports and you will kindly tell us the nature of your visit; after all, you were spying on us weren’t you?”
I held Ara close to my side and spoke up. “Well we heard some altercation going on in that room and were very curious that’s all.”
“And you just happened to have the same peculiarly manufactured weapons with you that we found on Mr. Anders.”
“Look, our passports were stolen.”
“What are your names?”
“Richard Cantwell.”
“And the girl?”
“My name is Ara Gratten.”
“Gratten? You’re name is Gratten?”
“Yes why, do you know that name?”
He puffed on a cigarette and began shuffling his papers. “No, no the name sounded familiar at first, but I must be mistaken.”
I didn’t buy that. He seemed too surprised for it to be a mistake. He seemed to recognize that name immediately signifying something curious was going on here, but I needed to know exactly what. He abruptly stood up. “You two stay here. I’ll be right back.”
It was time we made some kind of move before this got to the point of no return. I had noticed behind us, a rather large copper fire extinguisher and pointed it out so Ara couldn’t miss it, then I whispered. “When he comes back I’ll use this on him and you grab his pistol.”
Several minutes passed as we stood at the door and when it opened I blasted him in the eyes with the chemical extinguisher. Reeling back he covered his eyes while Ara yanked the pistol away from him, slammed the door and locked it. I held the pistol to his head and shouted. “How do you know the name Gratten, tell me now or I’ll shoot!”
“Alright, alright don’t shoot! I’ll tell you, just don’t shoot. He is our most recently acquired research scientist from London, now working here for us.”
Guards appeared at the door immediately trying to break in. I grabbed onto his coat. “Tell them to back off or I’ll shoot!”
“Shouting in German, he yelled. “Stop! Stay back, stay out, they have a pistol!” He began to squirm immediately and was obviously the type who valued his own life over any and all principals or, bluntly put, a coward.
I thought I had better use his cowardice to my full advantage and held the pistol to his temple. “His name, what is his full name?”
“Professor Gratten, Professor Timothy Gratten!”
“Oh my god, its father; he’s here in Germany!”
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
We essentially had a standoff at this point. German SS guards at the door ready to break in on command held at bay by the weasely interrogator we had as hostage.
“Where is my father, where are you keeping him?” Ara began to demand.
“I assure you he is safe young lady; and working for us of his own choice.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute, now tell us where my father is, or so help me I’ll blow your head off.”
I added, “Don’t think we don’t mean business!” and fired a shot in the ceiling. “Now talk!”
Firing another shot in the wall, I pressed the pistol to his temple a little harder which seemed to do the trick.
“Alright, alright he is working for us at a warehouse close by, the old Grünewald Warehouse on Trogerstraße.”
“Tell the guards to back off this floor and go to the one above us, now!” He shouted the orders and after a short time we could hear them leaving. I pointed to the far corner of the room. “Sit down back there and don’t move!”
Opening the door slowly, I held the pistol ready, glancing up and down the hallway. It seemed clear and we had to take the chance. I then signaled Ara for us to go and she followed me down to the floor at street level, then to the end of the hallway where I opened the window. We both climbed out, ran down an ally way and jumped a small fence toward another street. When the bellowing of alarm whistles began to blow, we knew they must be scrambling to find us. We really didn’t know where the Grunewald Warehouse on Trogerstraße was, but we had to find it quickly.
Moving across from one street to another we found a lone woman walking her dog. She seemed pleasant enough and approachable so we decided to try and ask her. “Trogerstaße?”
At first she looked puzzled and then understood what we were trying to ask her. Pointing to the right of us, she muttered something e
lse in German. I answered, shaking my head, trying to tell her my German is not so good repeating a phrase I’d heard a few times before; “Meine deutsch ist nicht zu gut,” and trusted she would understand.
She picked up on it right away and began to answer in the same clumsy English. “Trogerstaße… you go that way, two streets,” then nodded her head with a smile.
I’ve always had bad luck with dogs and this one was no exception; he bit my ankle; but we both smiled and thanked her running off in the direction she pointed. After carefully checking the street signs, we quickly found Trogerstaße. People were busy walking up and down the street and we didn’t have a bloody clue as to where this old Grunewald Warehouse was, which was why it was nothing less than a miracle for us to stumble right into it. “Keep walking Ara,” I motioned.
As we walked past the front of the warehouse, we could see there was a guard sitting at a desk in the small office at the main entrance. Ara froze for a moment. “But this is it, I’m sure of it!”
“I know, but whoever is looking for us would be sure to head for the warehouse and are certain to be on their way right now. We need to hide out around the corner for awhile, at least until nightfall when we can come up with a way to get past the guard.”
As we rounded the corner we could tell the whistles had finally stopped, but I knew all too well they would still be looking for us. We stopped in a little neighborhood soup kitchen where they were dishing out a small amount of food to the hungry. Sitting at an inconspicuous table in the back, we began to plot how we should enter the warehouse without causing a distraction.
The kitchen looked to be full of impoverished folk receiving what could well have been their first meal of the day. Germany, we were beginning to perceive, must be still going through a terrible post war period of hunger and economic chaos. But where did this so called Führer, Hitler come into play? He must not have been that important, living in a small apartment as he was.
Just then two men wearing brown shirts, with the same arm band sporting the curious black symbol on their sleeve, came bursting in the door with their weapons drawn and stood there for a few moments scanning the room. One of them shouted. “Englisch! Englisch?”
We turned our heads away and kept them down until they finally left. Ara grabbed my hand across the table. “They were looking for us weren’t they?”
“Yes, they bloody well were! We’ll stay right here for now, it should be safe since they have already checked the place.”
The evening crept up on us quickly and we decided to make our move on the warehouse in the hope that her father would be there.
The lights and sounds of the city began to suddenly come to life in Munich. The damp air and the smell of various combinations of food drifted through the streets. Ara knocked at the door of the warehouse office as I stood by the door unseen by the guard. When he opened the door, we both walked in and I pointed my pistol at him discretely motioning for him to go back in the office.
He walked back slowly and we both went in and shut the door. I placed my finger to my lips signaling for him to be silent and pointed to his desk. He sat back down looking at me intently, probably wondering if I would actually use it. I looked over at Ara and nodded. She looked at him and said in a stern voice. “Gratten! Professor Timothy Gratten?”
He looked back at us with a blank stare and shook his head as if he didn’t understand. That’s when I stood up pulling the hammer back on my pistol, walked over to the desk pointing it at him and raised my voice. “Gratten, Professor Timothy Gratten!”
He looked down at his desk and I could see he wanted a cigarette. I obliged him with a quick nod; then he pulled one from the pack and lit it up.
After taking a long drag on his cigarette and exhaling the smoke he looked at us both and spoke in a low voice, “I assume you’re both looking for Professor Timothy Gratten.”
We looked at each other caught off guard by his use of English..
“Yes, I speak fluent English. What is your interest in Professor Gratten?
“That is my business. Right now I want to talk with him.”
“This is totally forbidden by strict orders from the Führer; but since at this moment you obviously have the upper hand, I suppose I have no choice, true?” As he was talking I could see his hand was slowly slipping down under the desktop.
“Stop, stand up,” I ordered.
He stood up as I walked over to the desk and opened the top drawer, where there was a loaded German pistol conveniently laying at his disposal.
“I’ll just take this if you don’t mind. Now where are you keeping the professor?”
He rubbed his chin raising his eyebrows. “You can’t blame me for trying now can you?–follow me.” He took a key ring from his pocket and opened a door leading further into the warehouse. It was a long dimly lit hallway and we proceeded toward a set of double doors at the end.
Upon entering a much larger room the concoction of odors was hard to distinguish. Definitely a mixture of engine oil, solvents and exhaust; something similar to the way my father’s workshop used to smell whenever I would visit him. We passed several large objects covered over in old canvass, along with portable workbenches on wheels, each loaded with a plethora of tools of every imaginable type. Some of the equipment looked new and innovative but still indistinguishable in the low lit conditions. We passed through another huge warehouse space and many workbenches were scattered around with oddly shaped projects covered in the same canvass. Over at the far side of the space, were two or three workbenches lit up with someone at each of them busily working on some sort of endeavor.
The sparks of a grinder were jumping into the air, lighting up one of the workbenches and at another, a man in a white lab coat was kneeling down looking up through a huge metal contraption too far away for us to really see any details.
“Professor Gratten has finished for the day and probably retired to his quarters by now, that is, unless he happens to be in the refectory, a little further down past his sleeping quarters.”
We kept pace through another large workspace and continued along a smaller hallway with several doors on either side finally stopping at one of them. “I believe this is the one.” He said looking at me for further instructions.
“Ara, wait for me here I’ll be right back.” Taking hold of him I ordered. “You come with me.”
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
It was getting rather late as I walked the German further down the hallway to a smaller door with a tiny square window. Opening the door, I looked into a rather large dark storage room where there was one single light bulb hanging from the ceiling with a pull string, which I used for the moment. I grabbed him roughly, shoving him inside.
“They will know that I am missing and send someone out looking for me. It’s no use to try and escape; this is a secured area and you will most certainly be found!”
“Enough talk, stay still,” I ordered, as I sat him down in the chair. I gagged him, tied him up securely with what looked like old clothesline, and flicked the light off leaving him there. Then as I headed back down the hallway, Ara was still standing there by the door waiting for me and looking very anxious. “Richard I, I’m actually afraid to knock on the door. I’m afraid it’s not going to be him.”
I took her in my arms holding her close, and then looked into her eyes. “Hey, we’ve come this far and it looks like it is going to pay off. Your father’s been missing all this time, he has to be somewhere.”
She looked up at me biting her lip, her blond hair brushing up against my face as she turned and knocked on the door. There was no response at first then a muffled voice emanated from what sounded like the back of the room. “What is it? My work shift is over for the day.”
“Father, is that you in there?”
“What? It can’t be. Is that you –my Ara?”
The door slowly opened and an older man with glasses and a graying beard peered out, his face suddenly lighting up. “It is,
it is you Ara! How could this be? How on earth were you able to find me?”
They both embraced in an emotional moment, tears streaming down Ara’s face as her father held her in his arms. To give them a moment, I walked down the hall to check on the German once again and look around for anyone else approaching. All seemed quiet at this point, being at a very late hour. We, all three of us went back in his room where we would be out of sight from anyone happening to pass through.
“Father, how did you ever get to Germany? The last I knew you were in London and when you didn’t come back I―”
“I know honey, I never returned; but believe me I had no choice in the matter. I was in London working at my employment that day, just as usual. We were working on a project that had been ongoing for months and deep into it, when two men approached me saying they had a proposition for me and would I be interested in discussing it over dinner.” I held Ara close as her father continued his story.
“They appeared reasonable at first. I told my companion workers that I was going to dinner with the two men but that I wouldn’t be long. They mentioned they had a place in mind and before I knew it I was hustled into a car which drove off toward the docks.
They told me that their Führer had need of my services. They said they had heard of my intimate familiarity in the field of electro- magnetics as well as my knowledge of fuel aerodynamics acoustics and basic combustion.
“I told them I was sorry if I had mislead them into thinking I would be interested in looking for alternative employment, but that I was very busy with a project at the moment and I would let them know if and when the situation had changed.
They, being insistent, were obviously not interested in my explanation and told me in no uncertain terms I would have to go with them.
“They further informed me there were others I would work with on a project of much more significance and challenge for me as well as an honor for me working for the fatherland.
We drove to the Port of London ending up on one of the more obscure docks where a German supply ship was berthed alongside. It was dark with only bright light on the ship itself as the motorcar pulled up close to the ship.
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