Stile Maus

by Robert Wise

  Jacques patted him on the shoulder and ran over to Patrice. He was still dazed and Jacques helped him to his feet before they both hobbled away from the foyer and towards the kitchen.

  ‘Toby,’ Til hissed, ‘where are you?’

  ‘Who’s Toby?’

  Til sprung toward the shadow standing behind him and smiled calmly.

  ‘Colonel Hermann. You startled me, Sir.’

  ‘One of your fallen allies, I take it?’

  ‘Excuse me, Sir?’

  ‘Toby. Officer, Drezner.’

  Til sunk his desperate glare into the pits of stone and brick and took in a deep breath.

  ‘Where are they, the rest of you?’

  ‘I don’t know what...’

  ‘Please do not play games. Where are they and why are they here? What do you want with this hotel?’

  Til grinned.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.’

  Colonel Hermann peeled a pistol away from his belt and aimed it at the man standing before him.

  ‘My words will only be lies, Colonel. You know this.’

  ‘Remove the band from around your arm. You do not deserve to wear it, scum.’

  He pulled it away from his sleeve and over his knuckles and then placed it against the marble floor. Til stared at its red, white and black fabric. Then he spat over it, grinning as it bubbled at the Colonel’s boots. Before the Colonel could raise his pistol to Til’s throat a scuffle sounded, not six feet away. He didn’t move but glanced toward a heap of cascading rubble. A hand lay underneath, the fingers twitching and speckled with dark blood.

  ‘One of your friends maybe?’

  Colonel Hermann smirked nastily.

  ‘Which one to kill first?’ he said as he watched the wrist start to fold away another slab of stone.

  ‘Just tell me one thing. Why did you tell me about the Frenchman, outside? And why mention that German’s are helping them with their coup?’

  Til smiled softly.

  ‘How else was I going to get you to inside the building?’

  Hermann looked mystified and reared his head toward the wheezing character across the floor.

  ‘I’m guessing you’re done talking, let’s see...’

  Til grabbed the pistol and pushed it up into the Colonel’s neck, firing as many bullets as the chamber possessed. Colonel Hermann fell onto his back and shrunk and curled, clutching at the pouring wound with panic. Til got to his feet and stood above him, watching as his eyes began to glass over into a sleepy haze. He wouldn’t put him out of his misery. He wanted him to struggle with every last breath. Til raced over to the shifting marble wreckage and began to haul away each serrated piece, finally revealing the beaten face of Tobias Vilsmaier.

  ‘Jesus, Toby.’

  He groaned and produced a tiny spittle of blood as Til lifted him away from the blanket of debris.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘in about two minutes this lobby is going to be filled with Nazi’s.’

  Schulze registered another glimpse. Most of the guards had entered the room by now but a handful began to knock on doors along the corridor. He gave Klaus the signal and turned the corner, approaching the first couple of guards through the aim of his iron sight. Inside room 1709, the search continued and it wasn’t long before an officer stooped down and held the Major’s shirt within his hands.

  ‘Over here.’ The shuffling troops followed the crumbs of clothing into the bedroom.

  Ferber woke from his sleepy daze and heard the heavy jingle of someone jogging past. The chair he was tied to had been turned away from the doorway and overlooked the balcony where his colleague lay, smothered in sprinkles of broken glass. He grumbled under the stretch of cloth covering his mouth. Another hidden stranger passed. Ferber grappled weakly at the armrest and began to rock against the rise of the seat. By now, the bedroom and landing was crowded with Anaheim’s private army.

  Schulze crept at the carpet.

  ‘Come on,’ he mouthed, ‘Come on.’

  The hallway lifted and a cloud of black smoke poured out from the room, flooring every Nazi along the strip of carpet who happened to be caught off guard. Schulze levelled up and picked off the first stunned soldier before firing another lash of bullets into the murky fog. Klaus covered him from behind, licking rifle shots at the scrambling shadows until the yelping stopped. The elevator doors pinged behind them and they backtracked until they were inside. Schulze punched at the button panel and the doors juddered to a close. Resting his head against the thin, purple walls Klaus breathed a deep sigh and embraced the descent. It was nearly over.

  The door opened and Gerard stood on the other side.

  ‘Hurry,’ he said fretfully.

  Stefan wheeled the Major onto the ramp of a truck that was parked in the depths of the alleyway and looked on as the tailgate rose, lifting the trolley up until it sat toward the back of the cabin. Hugo was on hand to heave the frame the rest of the way and strapped the wheels to four hinges on the ground before heading back to the driver’s seat. Stefan and Michel climbed into the back while Gerard rejoined Hugo and Ludivine in the front. A set of doors burst open down the way and Jacques could be seen limping along with Patrice under his arm. They were helped into the truck and Hugo turned at the ignition, staring into the reflection of his wind mirror.

  ‘Where are the others?’ he whispered loudly. Jacques came to a small, chequered slit that tarnished the cabin wall and pressed towards it.

  ‘Til is the last one I saw, I don’t know if the others are dead or alive.’

  Hugo slammed his fist down against the steering wheel.

  The doors opened and revealed a quieter section of the lobby. Klaus and Private Schulze skipped out onto the greying marble and aimed into the wave of mist that was hovering at the far corner of the wide corridor. There were footsteps in crunched form and a scatter of stone crumbs kicked out past the corner of the wall. Klaus glanced at Schulze and advanced on the main foyer slowly. The kitchen sat behind a set of double doors across the room and Klaus watched it from the corner of his eyes. There was a voice, a vague stutter of German. Schulze cranked back the trigger and locked onto the sprays of showering smog. Two uniforms emerged, one being dragged by the other. Schulze lowered his weapon and began to sprint towards them.

  ‘Is he shot?’

  He said, getting under Tobias’ arm and helping Til carry him towards Klaus who had gone ahead and held open the doors that led toward the kitchen.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Til muttered, ‘he was under a coat of rubble, he’s barely awake.’

  They passed through the steam filled kitchen. Cooks and waiters stood by, staring at them as three were led by the one with the scarred face. Klaus kicked his way into the alleyway and noticed the dim glow of the truck up ahead. The cool blue tint of the Rolls was parked beside it. The brake lights juddered at the hum of the engine. Hugo saw them coming up from the back and cranked the truck into gear.

  ‘Help them, quickly!’

  Gerard unclipped the tailgate but Til advised him that he and Tobias would be following in the Rolls Royce. He found the keys in the ignition and flicked at the headlamps. Klaus and Schulze leaped into the back of the cabin and they took off. Til checked the mirror and caught a band of shadows spill out into the alley. It wasn’t going to be a smooth ride. The roads were clear and Hugo made for the airstrip with urgent haste, the gleaming Rolls lashing along behind it. Not long after breaking past the city border they were joined by two speedy trucks. Rifle fire clattered against the side of Hugo’s cabin and he veered a sharp turn onto a dirt road while Til continued straight. The trucks divided and sought after the escapists.

  ‘Stay low,’ Hugo demanded as they breached a shallow ditch and connected with the road once more.

  ‘We need to get rid of them,’ Gerard cried, ‘Now!’

  Hugo took his eyes of the light swamped road ahead and nodded.

  ‘Do it.’

  Fetching up a rifle from beside
the two seats Gerard wound down the window and took aim at the back tyre of the truck up ahead. His first shot clunked off the chassis and he scowled before reloading. Ludivine pushed into her seat, her lips trembling with fear.

  ‘What’s going on out there?’

  Schulze called.

  Another shot fired, this time pinging off the road. A figure emerged from the cabin behind and unleashed a sparkle of machine gun fire and it caught the side mirror, sending it crashing down to the slippery road below. Gerard shied away from the window and reloaded before turning into the wind and firing at the windscreen of the pursuing blaze of white headlamps. The glass went through and the truck swerved sharply and screeched onto its side before grumbling off the road and into a rain swamped ditch. Til stamped at the pedals and launched the Phantom over a shallow knoll that studded the road. The truck that chased them lagged behind but wasn’t out of sight. Til scowled as the back tyres slid out as he turned a corner. The Rolls couldn’t reach full power on such a slippery surface. He flicked at the mirror and glanced at Tobias who lay against the back seat, his eyes flustering as if they were just about to open.

  ‘Stay with me Toby, for Christ’s sake stay with me!’

  With the rifle pegged between his gloved grasp Gerard lashed a shot at the tyres of the truck at the forefront and watched as the rubber ripped away from its spiralling cap. The truck fell onto its uneven spindle and orange and yellow sparks began to flick up into the glow of Hugo’s headlamps. The tarp covering the back cabin tore away and a handful of guards gripped the tailgate, struggling to stay on their quaking boots. Gerard leaned through the window once more and picked them off until they all clattered down onto the damp road. Hugo steered past the truck as it finally gave out and continued along the countryside strip. Through the dark he could see the Phantom’s glare in the darkness. Beyond the dots of dazzling red a duller, whiter light towered in the distance. The airstrip. They met Til at the entrance and followed him to a hangar at the bottom of a well lit trail. An interceptor jet sat at the back of the chamber and two cars were parked up alongside it. A figure slid away from the bonnet of an olive Jaguar E-type and watched the swarm of headlamps swerve into the hollowed hangar. A machine gun lay in his grasp and he moved towards the halting vehicles with caution. Another shadow climbed down from the interceptor.

  ‘It’s alright, Howard,’ said Carsten Lazatto, ‘it’s them.’

  FRONT ROW SEATS AT THE ORCHESTRA

  The cab pulled up and Klaus offered the driver a small tip before heading out into the rain. He skipped up the veranda towards the porch and knocked gently against the door. His fingers toyed with the small rubber ball lost within his trench coat pocket. Old habits, he thought. She appeared at the doorway, her eyes alight with a brightness that burnt from some kind of lamp within the hallway.

  ‘Hello,’ Klaus said.

  Elsie lunged forwards and hugged him tightly. He let his duffel bag fall onto the porch and squeezed her with a gentle lift.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ she simpered, ‘how long has it been?’

  ‘Too long,’ Klaus smiled, touching at her cheek and kissing her lips.

  ‘Come in,’ she said kindly, ‘Father’s waiting for you in his study.’

  ‘So, do you have any idea why your Father has asked me to return so close to the invasion?’

  ‘No, but others are here.’

  They came to the study and Elsie touched gently at the back of his trench coat,

  ‘Come and see me before you leave.’

  He nodded and smiled and watched her pass onto the landing above. Her beauty had never left his mind’s eye. The door in front of him opened under his tender twist and the muffled conversation came to an abrupt halt as he entered.

  ‘My, my,’ said Hugo, ‘our very own Oberstleutnant.’

  Klaus shook his hand firmly and turned his attention to a large man who filled an armchair to his left.

  ‘Howard, how good to see you.’

  ‘And you my boy,’ Howard chuckled, ‘how was your flight in?’

  ‘Bumpier than usual,’ Klaus joked before heading toward Til Drezner.

  ‘Mr Drezner, Mr Luzzatto.’ The pair greeted him warm smiles. Klaus unbuttoned his jacket and folded it over a chair before settling within its deep rest.

  ‘There have been a few developments,’ Hugo was the one who broke the silence.

  Klaus sat, intrigued.

  ‘Our man at the headquarters says its time. The Major has just revealed his plans for an operation that puts us in an excellent position.’

  ‘Can the information be trusted?’

  ‘We’re talking about Max’s son here, Klaus.’

  ‘I don’t doubt Kevin. My worries lie with him. Anaheim.’

  ‘This information is gold. Word is Anaheim is playing this one close to his chest. The only people who know are those who are involved.’

  ‘So how do we play this,’ Klaus asked.

  ‘Kevin will arrive soon with the details but we understand from what he’s told us already that the operation is aimed directly at the German military.’

  Klaus became engaged and shifted within his seat.

  ‘Your little visit to the German ball last week appears to have paid off. Milo Haas is dead and the Major wants answers.’

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Mr Kevin Schulze,’ Hugo said, greeting him with a hug, ‘you’re late.’

  ‘Apologies Doctor Brandt, getting away from the Gestapo Major’s office for the weekend is a rare task.’

  ‘I would not have asked if I didn’t think you could pull it off my boy. Now sit, take a drink.’

  He brandished a bundle of finely bound black folders and fondled them onto his lap before taking a glass of beer from Hugo. After greeting the others with a pleasant dash of smiles and nods Schulze flipped open the top wallet and peeled at the first few pages.

  ‘Again, my apologies for gathering you gentlemen here tonight but as I’m sure our kind host has already informed you, we are now, how shall I say... in business.’

  Carsten Lazzatto lit up a cigarette and offered a spare to Til who refused.

  ‘Now,’ Schulze continued, ‘the operation is designed to reveal the betrayers and schemers hidden with the Third Reich.’

  ‘So us?’

  ‘Precisely. There’s only one problem. Getting into the operation could be near impossible.’

  ‘For a regular soldier, yes.’

  The whole room turned to Howard Goetsh.

  ‘You have someone in mind, Howard?’

  Hugo asked the question that the others had already placed upon their tongues.

  ‘Tobias Vilsmaier.’

  ‘The movie star? Why on earth would he help us?’

  ‘Because,’ Howard said placidly, ‘there’s something about Toby Vilsmaier that only I know. That you can’t hear about in interviews or read about in magazines.’

  Til leaned forwards, a deep frown set across his brow.

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘He is not German. He is Swiss. And his parents were murdered by the Nazi’s. A Luftwaffe division to be exact.’ He sparked a cigar and let it burn before chugging at its warm birth.

  ‘Some years ago a German fighter jet was shot down over a mountain close to Geneva. The pilot’s wandered through the snowstorm for days until, finally they found a small cabin that had been lost within the blizzard. A family of husband and wife and their three boys took them in and fed them bowls of hot soup before offering them each a bed for the night. But the cottage belonged to a man who was wealthy and well known and he had asked the family to stay at the cabin for the winter as a favour to him. Little did he know that his dear friends would soon be ambushed by the Nazi’s and kept captive as the German soldiers searched the cabin for jewels and priceless treasures.’

  Howard pushed himself away from the armchair and lingered at a window overlooking the garden. The hot spice of his cigar agitated his eyes into a series of soft
blinks.

  ‘When the soldiers found nothing the superior officer took the family out into the snow and shot them. He went back inside and waited for the falling snow to bury them. But one survived with barely a few scratches. Nothing short of a miracle. Anyway, the boy knew the land, even through the storm so he headed to a town that sat at the foot of the mountain. The wealthy man who owned the cabin lived in one of the houses there but he wasn’t home when the young boy arrived at his doorstop.’

  Howard sighed and a sting of tears bloomed within his eyes. Klaus looked on but suspected that the director’s sudden teary stare may have been caused by the wafting cigar smoke. It would soon become apparent that that wasn’t the case.

  ‘But do you know who answered that door? Do you know who the first one to see that horrified stare was? Me.’

  Hugo had heard the story before and looked over at his friend with cordial empathy.

  ‘My Father happened to be one of the greatest script writers in Germany and the cabin up in the hills belonged to him. I sat the boy down but he wouldn’t talk, not for days. My Mother and I tried everything but he only just stared, into nothingness. Finally, after nearly two weeks he came into the kitchen and told us everything. My Mother burst into tears.’

  The room stirred uncomfortably.

  ‘That is how I know Tobias Vilsmaier will help us, gentlemen.’

  Hugo took to the stage.

  ‘So we have a way in.’

  ‘I’ll set up a meeting,’ said Howard, ‘Mr Schulze here controls every message going into that office so it shouldn’t be too hard to arrange.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘A protection scheme of some sort, we say that Toby has been wrongly drafted into the military and would prefer if he sat on the sidelines for the duration of the war.’

  ‘Somewhere in Europe would be better.’

  ‘We need to get him noticed first.’

  ‘I’m telling you,’ assured Schulze, ‘this is our window. I should have a list by Thursday. Assuming the other agents are existing members of the Gestapo and SS I’m more than certain the Major will welcome a movie star with open arms. It would merely be another credible talking point if the operation happened to succeed.’