Derek did not take his eyes off the road but laughed softly. “Somebody would have to back up a long way—or else get pushed over the edge.”
“How much farther?”
“We ought to get to the top in another fifteen minutes, but the road down is even worse, if I remember correctly.” He turned the wheel slightly, and they spun on the packed ice and snow. “I’m surprised we can even get up this incline. One good thing about it, though. There won’t be many people out looking for us.”
They had been on the road for two long days. The farther north they went, the less daylight they had to worry about, and the longer they spent driving. Now the first hints of daylight were beginning to appear, so they needed to find a safe place to pull off the road so they could get some much-needed rest.
“When do you think they’ll discover that you’re gone?” Mallory asked.
“By ten o’clock, I suppose. Then they’ll send someone to find you. With both of us gone, Ritter or Stahl will put two and two together.”
“I hope Eva and Lars got away.”
“I’m sure they did. They’re pretty shrewd operators.”
“What will we do in daylight?”
“I’m hoping we’ll get to the farthest mountain before it’s too light. Then we can pull off and hide.”
“There aren’t many trees to hide in.”
“No, and we’ll leave tracks in the snow. We’ll just have to hope for the best, I guess.” They were silent for a time, and then he said, “You know, I was just thinking, there aren’t many things you can lock up and put away and believe that they’ll always be safe.”
“That’s true, isn’t it? Life is pretty uncertain.”
“I read a poem once that said, ‘Hopes are like children who go out to pick flowers in the field—and never come back.’
“I don’t like that. It’s too gloomy. But I guess life is pretty gloomy. All the people I love best have shoved off from my life like lifeboats leaving a ship.” He suddenly turned to her and laughed. The pale light that was beginning to light the east illuminated his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so mournful.”
“Make up a poem for me, Derek.”
“A poem about what?”
“Oh, about how good things come.”
“All right,” he said. “Let’s see . . .
“Your heart counts the good moments like a bank teller.
There’s a rustling of paper and the ringing of gold
And then the flesh and blood rejoice
As if a fugitive had come home after long years away.”
“How do you just make up things like that?” she asked.
“I don’t know how I do it. It’s like your working the radio. I’ve worked at studying poetry until finally I know a bit about how it comes together.”
“It’s not like a radio. That’s technical. There are rules.”
“There are rules to poetry too.”
“I know. Like making it rhyme.”
“For me it’s harder to make poems that don’t rhyme. Rhyme is easy.”
“I suppose anything is easy if you know how to do it. We’re getting mighty philosophical, aren’t we? But really, writing doesn’t come easily to me.”
“It’s the hard things that make us what we are,” Derek said. “Raking leaves is easy, but all you get is leaves. Digging is hard, but you might find diamonds.”
Mallory laughed. “You want me to think you’re wise, don’t you?”
He grinned. “Why don’t you tell me a poem? You know lots of poetry.”
“All right. How about this one:
“Peanuts!
Two bags for five!
They brush your teeth,
They curl your hair;
They make you feel
Like a millionaire!”
His shoulders shook as he laughed. “Did you write that yourself?”
“No. At soccer games in Kenya, the boys that sold peanuts used to call that out.”
They talked for a while, and finally she said, “What’s the most poignant poem you know, Derek?”
He thought for a minute and then said, “Probably Byron’s ‘So We’ll Go No More a Roving.’ ” He quoted all three verses and then said, “But that poem’s not altogether sad to me. I love one line in particular: ‘The night is made for loving.’ ”
She did not answer, though his tone invited her to respond. “We must be crazy to be spouting poetry when our lives are in danger.”
“I think we live more during times like this. The little time I had in combat was like that. It seemed like every moment lasted a year. The good times go so quickly.” He straightened up. “Look, there’s an opening there. I believe we can get the truck off the road. I think we’d better do it and wait until dark to go the rest of the way.”
He maneuvered the truck through a screen of scrubby trees and onto a flat spot. “I’d better get out and see if I can disguise where we came in. Do you think we could cook something?”
“Better not. I’ll tell you what. I’ll dig out some of those cans—beans, soup, whatever I can find. If you’ll put them on the engine block that’ll heat them up.”
By the time he had disguised their exit marks, the four cans on the engine block were starting to get warm.
“Watch out. Those cans are hot,” he warned when he removed them with his heavy gloves. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t even look. It’s edible, though, and I’m starved.”
They took their cans of food into the truck and balanced them on the dash. She had rummaged through their groceries and found some bread and two apples as well.
“A feast,” he said. “Do you ask blessings over food?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why don’t you, then.”
There in the cold they bowed their heads and Mallory prayed a simple prayer of thanksgiving for the food, then added, “And keep us safe, O God. We know you can, and we’re trusting in you. So we ask you in the name of Jesus to get us safe home—safely across the border.”
“Amen,” Derek said. He dipped a spoon into the can he held. “Some kind of soup, I think. Not real sure—maybe beet.” He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I like the way you asked God to get us ‘safe home.’ Those words have a good sound. If I ever have a house and grounds, I think I’ll call it that. Safehome. What did you get in your can?”
“It’s some kind of beans. Black beans, I think.”
“Ooh, I like those! I’ll trade you some of my beet soup for black beans.”
“Here. Let’s just eat out of all four cans. It’ll go better that way. Swap the juices all around.”
The two ate heartily, laughing at times as the soup spilled down over their chins. When they were finished, he stashed the cans in a bag so as not to leave any evidence that anyone had been there.
Her stomach full, Mallory sighed contentedly. “I guess I should be sleepy, but I’m not.”
“I think we’ll probably get sleepy eventually, and cold too.”
Mallory looked out the window but could see nothing but the scrub trees. “What will you do when we get out of all this, Derek?”
“It’ll be difficult, won’t it? I can’t go back to what I was, and I don’t know where I’m headed. I guess I’ll be an orphan of sorts. Too young to die and too old to play.”
She laughed. “There’s your poetry cropping out of you again.”
“Was it? Well, at least it didn’t rhyme.” He leaned back in the seat and took off his officer’s cap. “I think I’d better put on Lars’s civilian clothes before we go on. This uniform wouldn’t help us much out here.”
Mallory nodded but was still preoccupied with her question. “You won’t go back to Germany, will you?”
“No, I wouldn’t be very welcome there. I’ll probably wind up in a POW camp in England.”
“No, they wouldn’t do that to you!”
“I’m afraid they would. I don’t think most people can understand what
’s happened to me.”
He leaned his head back on the seat, staring up at the ceiling. He began to tell her about his youth, speaking slowly as he reviewed his life. “I believed in my father mostly,” he told her. “He was all I had left after my mother died. He was a stern taskmaster, and his only thought was the military. I grew up with children of military men, so we were all exposed to the same line of reasoning. All my friends were in the Hitler Youth Movement, so I joined too. There was never any question about it. They were all excited about Hitler’s promises.”
“Did you believe them, Derek?”
“I did at the time, I suppose, but my father was responsible for that. You wouldn’t believe how bad it was in Germany after the last war ended. Everybody was hungry. Money wasn’t worth carrying home. When Hitler came along, he promised prosperity, which of course was what the people wanted to hear.”
“Didn’t you get suspicious when you heard some of the stories about the—”
“About the bad things? Yes. And when I saw some of it in Spain and in other places, I knew that something was terribly wrong, but I was caught up in the machinery.”
He talked for a long time, and Mallory sensed that he needed someone to listen. He could not have said these things to anyone at his home, and finally he surprised her by saying, “I’d like to see your home.”
“You mean in Africa?”
“Yes. I’ve read a lot about Africa. Tell me about it.” He turned in his seat and smiled. “Did you ever play ‘Let’s Pretend’ when you were a little girl?”
Mallory laughed, making a very attractive picture. “When I was a little girl! I still do it.”
“Good! So do I. Let’s pretend we’ve got our tickets, and we’re going to Africa together, and you tell me all about your home.”
Mallory began to tell him about the Africa she loved, of the vast stretches of veldt and the unbelievable herds that roamed the continent. She spoke about the time, just before she left, when she and Ubo had seen the lion, and this fascinated him.
“What would have happened if the lion had charged?”
“Ubo would have tried to kill him with his spear. I didn’t have any weapon at all.”
“That’s unbelievable that a man with only a spear would tackle a full-grown lion!”
“You do if you’re a Masai warrior, and then you make a headdress out of the lion’s mane. This one would have made a beautiful one. It had a black mane.”
“I’ve never seen a black-maned lion. All I’ve seen are tawny ones in the circus.”
“I don’t think those circus lions are anything like when they roam free.”
She amused him by telling him about the Masai’s chief diet staple: milk flavored with the blood from the very animal they milked.
“It sounds bloody awful!” he said with a laugh.
“I suppose it’s an acquired taste.”
“You mean you’ve tried it?”
“Oh yes. It would have been impolite to refuse.”
“I think I’ll stick to beet soup. But when we get to Africa, you’ll have to teach me how to hunt.”
“I never liked to hunt really. None of my family did. We enjoyed watching the animals but not killing them. Nothing is more impressive than an elephant.”
“Could you get close to them?”
“I did once without meaning to.”
“How could that be?”
“You wouldn’t believe how silent those monstrous things are. I had gone out by myself from camp. We knew there were elephants in the area, and I wanted to see them. Dad had forbidden me, of course, but I disobeyed.”
“You were a wicked, wicked child.”
“I was indeed, and I nearly paid for it. I was creeping along in the thick vegetation just seeing what I could find when I heard the elephants. They were in the river. They love to bathe, you know.”
“Do they really?”
“Yes, and the babies play just like puppies—and sometimes the adults do too. It’s something to see those huge beasts spraying water at each other and shoving each other.”
“Well, what happened?”
“I was watching the elephants through the foliage when suddenly I had a creepy feeling—like something was watching me behind my back. I turned slowly, and I tell you, Derek, I nearly died!”
“What was it?”
“It was a huge bull elephant, and it couldn’t have been more than fifteen meters away from me. It had enormous curving tusks, and those little eyes were fastened right on me. It had just sneaked up on me with all of its bulk, and I hadn’t heard a sound. I guess I was too busy listening to the others in the river.”
“Did you run?”
“No, it would have been useless. They’re very fast. I just stood there and prayed, but not out loud. I was too scared for that. And it watched me. I didn’t move, and the elephant put its ears out like they do when they’re going to charge—huge ears like big fans. It was swaying from side to side, and I thought it was all over for me.”
“It obviously wasn’t. How did you get away?”
“I think it heard some kind of a distress call from one of the elephants in the river—maybe from its mate or one of the young ones. It tore away and went crashing through the jungle. As for me—” she laughed—”well, I just hate to tell you, but I was so scared I threw up.”
“No wonder! I don’t think I’d like to go through a thing like that.”
“After that, as you can imagine, I paid a little more attention to my surroundings when I was out alone in the wild.”
“You certainly had a more interesting childhood than most people.”
“I know. I’m grateful that I was raised in Africa rather than in America.” She opened her mouth in a huge yawn.
“You’d better try to sleep. We need to drive all night tonight, and it’ll be slow going in the dark.”
“All right. Here, let’s fish some of these blankets out.”
The two of them got out the blankets and wrapped themselves up like cocoons. Mallory bunched up another blanket and put it between her head and the window, thinking as she drifted off, I should be scared to death, but I’m not. . . .
****
Colonel Ritter looked up from his desk, startled as Stahl burst into his office, his face pale. “What in the world is it, Stahl?”
“It’s Grüber!”
“Grüber? What about him?”
“He’s gone, Colonel, and so is the woman!”
Ritter jumped to his feet. “What do you mean gone? He can’t be gone!”
“He is, and a truck is missing. He must have taken the woman and they’re making a run for it.”
Colonel Ludwig Ritter felt a surge of anger flood his whole body. “I knew that man was no good! You should have found him out before this, Stahl!”
“But, sir—”
“Never mind your excuses! I want them captured. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Double the guards along the border. Be sure you give an exact description.”
“Do you want them captured or dead?”
“I want them alive. We’ll have a little entertainment for them when we catch them—both of them.”
He marched over to the map stiffly, trying to get control of himself. He studied at the map and began to indicate the points at which there were guards stationed. “Double all the guards along the border.”
“Yes, sir, and I’ll build a fire under those in charge. If you don’t watch them, they’ll be sitting inside by a stove.”
“Get them out searching—and arrest those people in the house where she was staying.”
“They’re already gone, sir.”
“Well, put their names and descriptions out too!” Ritter continued to study the map. “They may try to escape by boat.”
“That will be much easier to check, sir. I’ll see to it.”
Ritter turned around and slammed his fist into his palm. “The trouble is that Grüber knows all about our
security. He’ll be hard to catch, but he must be caught!”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that woman—we’ll interrogate her first until she gives up her friends. I think we can arrange that.” He smiled, his lips thin and an unholy light in his eyes. “Then we’ll hang her in the square at high noon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Captured!
“I never did care much for high places,” Derek muttered. “It’s a good thing it’s so dark. If I could see the bottom of this mountain, I think I’d get out and walk.”
Mallory felt much the same way. She glanced out to her right and saw the sheer wall of the mountain that bordered the mountain road, rising upward. This did not bother her much, but peering out through the darkness, she could see the edge of the road on the other side that fell off with breathtaking abruptness. The road had been hewn out of the mountain roughly so that there was barely room for the truck. She leaned over to her left and tried to see down, but the darkness was too great. “That looks like an awful fall. Can you see the bottom?”
“No, and I don’t want to.” He laughed. “Here we’re in terrible danger from the SS, and we’re worried about a little thing like driving off the side of a mountain.”
“I had an uncle that always made light of things. He would have said, ‘Well, if we fall off the mountain and get killed, we won’t have to worry about getting caught.’ ”
Derek nodded, but his attention was on the road ahead of him. They had been climbing steadily up the mountain, winding around on the hairpin curves that followed the outline of the huge mass of rock that thrust upright toward the sky. He was tired, and he moved his shoulders to relieve the tension. “It’ll be daylight soon,” he said.
“How much farther is it to the top?”
“I can’t remember. I was over this road only once. It seemed a long way, but it can’t be too far.”
The cold was hardly affected by the small truck heater, and Mallory could barely feel her feet. That made her think of her Lapp friends. “You know, the Lapps don’t wear any socks.”
The Unlikely Allies Page 22