Murder's Art

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘My teeth are chattering.’

  ‘And you have goose pimples.’

  ‘So have you.’

  ‘Mine aren’t as big as yours. Now …’ He peered into the turgid water rushing past their knees, as if looking for fishes, then suddenly thrust his hand down. ‘Gotcha!’

  ‘What in the name of God … ?’

  ‘This will make you slippery,’ he explained.

  ‘You are not going to rub that stuff on me?’

  ‘Only on your shoulders, breasts and hips,’ he explained.

  ‘That is obscene.’

  ‘Not as obscene as being captured by the Gestapo. You can close your eyes.’ She did so. ‘Now me.’

  ‘You will have to do it. I could not possibly touch it.’

  ‘One day we’ll laugh at this.’ He coated himself in turn, and then passed a leg and an arm through the grating, straddling the bar he had chosen to negotiate.

  ‘Be careful,’ Sandrine said. ‘That is a piece of you that I value highly.’

  ‘Still?’ Tony asked, lifting his genitals to the outside of the bar. ‘Now for the difficult bit.’ He laid his chest and his cheek on the bar, and began easing himself through. The iron closed on his flesh, and for a moment he thought he wasn’t going to make it. He certainly knew he was tearing his flesh, on both chest and back. But then he was through in a rush, having to grab the bars to stop himself from tumbling off the ledge and into the river. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Shit,’ she muttered.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  She thrust her right leg and arm through the bars as he had done, then lowered her body to lie on the steel, again following his example.

  ‘Just remember that there are several bits of you that I also value highly,’ he told her. Actually, it was easier for her than for him, because she could get her breasts through one at a time, wriggling her body to and fro, until she was standing beside him.

  ‘Ooof,’ she said. They dressed themselves while the water flowed about their ankles, holding on to each other in turn to put on their boots, Sandrine’s nose wrinkling with distaste as she inserted her legs into her sodden knickers and pulled them up past her thighs. ‘Don’t you think we have been lucky?’ she asked, slinging her weapon. ‘It was very careless of them not to have blocked that exit right away.’

  ‘Very,’ Tony agreed. ‘But I don’t think now is the time for us to look gift horses in the mouth.’

  ‘I am very sorry to have to tell you, Herr General,’ Wassermann said, ‘that the terrorists appear to have escaped.’

  It was eight o’clock in the morning, and the general, still wearing a dressing gown, was seated before his breakfast in an upstairs room of the royal palace, called the Stari Dvor, or Old Palace, to differentiate it from the Beli Dvor, or White Palace, which stood in the same large estate situated in Belgrade’s once well-to-do suburb of Dedinje, south of the rivers. The Stari Dvor was a large three-storeyed building, although the top floor was simply attics; the lower floors were dominated by huge, arched windows looking out over ornamental gardens. These had been damaged by the bombing, but, as Wassermann had promised, had largely been restored, although the work was still going on. On the other side of the table, also wearing a dressing gown, was Angela; Wassermann thought he had never seen a more attractive sight.

  ‘How did this happen?’ Blintoft asked.

  ‘Carelessness. It appears they got through the bars leading from the sewers to the river. Why this was not sealed the moment they were known to be down there is a mystery. Ulrich says it was assumed that they had been killed by the grenades thrown by his people. But there is no evidence of this.’

  ‘That is very unsatisfactory,’ the general said. ‘To think that my wife’s killers are out there, laughing at us …’

  ‘We will get them, Herr General. With your permission.’

  Blintoft gazed at him for several seconds, then glanced at Angela, whose face was, as usual, impassive. ‘It is something to be considered,’ he said.

  ‘With respect, Herr General,’ Wassermann said. ‘We must act immediately. Or they will indeed be laughing at us.’

  ‘The first thing I need to do,’ Blintoft said, ‘is bury my wife. We will leave tomorrow morning. I will be gone three days, Wassermann. Only three days. And while I am in Berlin I will discuss the matter with our superiors. When I return we will know how to deal with these people.’

  ‘And in the meantime?’

  ‘In the meantime, Herr Major, you will hold the fort and carry on as usual.’

  Wassermann clicked his heels. ‘Will you come to the office this morning, sir?’

  ‘Yes, I will. Wait here, and I will dress and come with you.’ He got up, went to the door, and there checked. ‘This man Ulrich, he does not seem to be very competent.’

  ‘He is actually very good at his job. I think he, like all of us’ – Wassermann looked at Angela – ‘was so shocked by what had happened that he temporarily lost control of the situation. I have, of course, issued him a severe reprimand, but I do not think the matter should be taken any further. It would be bad for morale.’

  ‘Hm,’ Blintoft commented. ‘Well, you are the man on the ground, so I will bow to your judgement in this instance. But there must be no more losses of control. Pour the major a cup of coffee, Geli. I will not be long.’ He closed the door behind himself.

  ‘Would you like a cup of coffee, Herr Major?’ Angela asked.

  ‘Thank you. That would be very nice.’

  ‘Then do sit down.’

  Wassermann laid his cap on the table, sat opposite her, and watched her pouring the coffee, the dressing gown for a moment drawing tight across her breast. When she suddenly turned towards him, holding out the cup, he flushed. ‘How do you feel today?’ he asked.

  ‘I wish to cry,’ Angela said. ‘But I cannot. I feel … confused, I suppose. I’m not sure it’s all happening.’

  She was totally adrift, Wassermann realized, just waiting to be picked up. Eager to be picked up. If he allowed this opportunity to slip away from him he would never forgive himself. ‘I wish it wasn’t happening,’ he said. ‘Hadn’t happened. Except …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, despite everything, I am bound to say that meeting you has been one of the great moments of my life.’

  ‘Thank you. That was very sweet of you.’ Still there was no evidence of any response on the level he sought. Perhaps she was incapable of responding at this time.

  ‘Will you be returning to Germany with your father tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course. Oh, I shall come back with him as well.’ She gave a half-smile. ‘To look after him on the domestic front. He is not very domesticated.’

  Wassermann had given a sigh of relief. Now he drew a deep breath, ‘I am so happy that you are coming back.’

  She gave him one of her disconcerting glances, so penetrating and yet so difficult to determine what might lie behind it. ‘What did you feel yesterday when you were torturing that man?’

  Wassermann reflected that her glances could never be as disconcerting as her sudden, probing, intimate questions. ‘Ah … we were interrogating him,’ he corrected. ‘As for feeling, it is not my business to feel anything. He was an enemy of the Reich who was attempting to conceal information.’

  ‘I should have felt pity,’ Angela said, half to herself. ‘But I did not.’

  ‘Nobody could have expected you to.’

  ‘I felt …’ Her tongue emerged and circled her lips. ‘What do you think he felt?’

  ‘I would suppose, in the first instance, fear more than anything else.’

  ‘I meant …’ Another quick circle of her lips. ‘When … well …’

  Wassermann realized that what was bothering her was that she had been sexually stimulated by the sight of the naked man. This made him stimulated as well. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that is a very tender part of a man’s body. I would say when the current passed through – and to get from his anus to his penis it ha
d to pass through his intestines and bladder as well – he felt extreme pain. His reaction indicated this.’

  ‘But it was, well …’ She bit her lip. ‘Moving.’

  ‘Had you never seen one before?’

  ‘Not really. Never, well, to look at.’

  ‘Yes, well, when it is handled, or aroused, it hardens. If it did not, it would not be able to perform its prime duty, that of entering the female. You do know about that?’

  They gazed at each other. How incredible, she thought, that I should be having such a conversation with a man I only met yesterday, and not be totally embarrassed. But because of yesterday, she seemed to have known him all her life. ‘I know about it, yes.’

  ‘Well, you see, when it is hard, although it is then at its most sensitive sexually, it is also, oddly, at its least sensitive to pain, or at least discomfort. It is when the erection has diminished, either by ejaculation or because the erotic impulse has passed, that any pain inflicted becomes apparent. Of course, this does not apply in the case of an electric shock, but I would say that he did not feel the teeth of the clips so badly before the shock.’ He smiled. ‘He is more likely to be feeling them now.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘In a cell.’

  ‘Will you … interrogate him again?’

  ‘Perhaps. Would you like to watch it again?’

  She shot him a glance and then drank some coffee. He realized she would, and his heartbeat quickened. But she continued to probe. ‘Have you ever … ?’

  ‘I have never been tortured, Angela. I am an officer in the Wehrmacht.’

  ‘I meant, have you ever … Suppose it had been a woman? Suppose it had been the woman Fouquet? How would you … ?’ She gazed at him with her mouth open.

  ‘How I wish it could have been the woman Fouquet.’ He gave a quick smile to conceal his very real desire to have Sandrine Fouquet naked and at his mercy; he had seen a photograph of the Frenchwoman. ‘She is a far deadlier enemy than Kostic.’

  ‘But … how would you …’ She licked her lips.

  ‘In exactly the same way. Women are not so very different from men, you know.’ He got up, came round the table, and sat beside her. ‘When you come back …’ He rested his hand on hers, and was concerned when she gave a little shudder. ‘Do I frighten you?’

  ‘No. It’s just that I feel so terrible,’ she said.

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘My mother is lying dead. And I cannot cry. All I can think about is that man. And …’ Another bite of the lip.

  And of a woman suffering in the same way, Wassermann realized. Perhaps even yourself, my gorgeous little monster. Gently he squeezed her hand. ‘You have been very brave. But you will cry. And then, when you have expelled your grief, you will begin to live again. I would very much like to be able to help you to do that.’ She gave a little sigh, and to his surprise but utter delight her head sank sideways to rest on his shoulder. ‘And together,’ he said, ‘we shall avenge your mother. Would you like that?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I should like that.’

  ‘It has been an unfortunate business,’ Tito said. He sat behind his desk in his office in the town of Uzice, and was not his usual smiling self.

  Occupying Uzice, which was not all that far from Belgrade, had been the Partisans’ greatest coup thus far. They had attacked it in the summer, and learned of its weaknesses – and its attractions: Uzice contained a bank full of money and a large printing press. Tito might not ram Communism down the throat of any of his followers, but he had immediately commissioned a history of the movement, so that his people might understand the benefits of such a regime. Then they had returned a month later, destroyed the German garrison, and taken over the town.

  It had been a frustrating triumph, and not only because it had failed to bring the main German forces in Yugoslavia into the open. It had also encouraged many people to suppose that even greater triumphs, perhaps even the recapture of Belgrade itself, might be just around the corner. That, of course, had never been a possibility. The Partisans had consumed a major part of their supplies of ammunition in getting this far, and they entirely lacked the necessary transport facilities to mount a major offensive. Repeated appeals to the Cetniks for support – if only logistically – had brought nothing; Mihailovic had indeed condemned the occupation of Uzice as an unnecessary provocation to the Germans. Attempts to appeal over the general’s head to the British for aid to be dropped directly to the Partisans had also met with no response. In fact, very little aid was even being dropped to the Cetniks, but the mere fact that it was indicated, annoyingly, that the British continued to regard Mihailovic as the proper leader of the Yugoslav resistance. Hence the attempt to provoke the Germans still further by assassinating the new governor-general, along with Tito’s decision to give Tony the task, was at least partly influenced by his desire to involve the British more closely; by having one of their officers named as the assassin, the British might be persuaded to take the Partisans more seriously.

  Now Tito surveyed the two people standing before him. He was a big, heavy-set man, forcefully handsome. That he possessed both a dynamic brain and considerable charisma was immediately apparent. That he was already considering what might happen next was also obvious.

  ‘I never thought that Svetovar was reliable,’ Sandrine remarked.

  Since they had regained the Partisan headquarters, after three days of hiding in bushes and crawling by night, fed by sympathetic villagers, both she and Tony had had a hot bath and changed their clothing. Sandrine’s hair had been restored to its normal cleanliness, and lay on her shoulders like a golden mat, but she did not think she would ever get the stink of the sewage out of her system.

  ‘And it appears you were right,’ Tito agreed. ‘You say he was taken. Alive?’

  ‘We heard no shots at that time,’ Tony said.

  ‘Do you think he is capable of standing up to torture?’

  ‘No,’ Sandrine said.

  Tito looked at Tony. ‘I would say Sandrine is right,’ Tony said. ‘But he can’t tell them much that they don’t know already. Except the involvement of the Brolics. I feel very sorry about that.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tito said. ‘It may interest you to know that one of our patrols brought in a Brolic yesterday. The eldest son. He was apparently at his father’s dry goods store when the shooting took place, and made himself scarce. Very wisely, as it turned out; apparently the Germans were there within the hour, seeking to arrest him.’

  ‘Does he know anything of his family?’

  ‘Only that they were arrested. So we must suppose the worst. That is unfortunate, but there is nothing we can do about it. What we need to consider is what the Germans will do now. First of all, we must assume that Svetovar has identified Maric and yourselves as the other members of the squad.’

  ‘Is there news of Maric?’

  Tito shook his head. ‘We must assume the worst there, also. What I find odd is that while the Germans reported on the radio the next day that the wife of the governor-general had been shot and killed, they have not yet named anyone, or even any group, as being considered responsible. But if Svetovar has confessed, they must know it is us, just as they must know you were in command. Do you not find that odd?’

  ‘Perhaps they are waiting for you to claim responsibility,’ Sandrine suggested.

  ‘Will you do that?’ Tony asked.

  ‘It is a conundrum. A considerable problem, thanks to that idiot. While I have no doubt that the whole non-Nazi world would have applauded the death of the governor-general, there is going to be considerable criticism at the shooting of his wife.’

  ‘Even if it was not intended?’

  ‘The Germans are unlikely to agree that it was not intended.’ Tito snapped his fingers. ‘And that is why there has been no official reaction. They are waiting for us to make a claim. Because if we do, we shall be telling the world that we are the vicious murdering thugs they claim we are. No, we will not claim. We s
hall let them accuse.’

  ‘And Mihailovic? He must know of it by now.’

  ‘Oh, certainly. But he too is in a difficult position. Is he going to denounce us, and further split the resistance movement? And at the same time publicly reveal his sympathies with the Germans? As the Germans have not yet accused us of the incident, for him to step in now would be to indicate that he knew of our plan in advance. And that would not go down well with his Nazi friends. I think we will wait and see what happens next.’

  ‘And when the Germans start shooting people as a reprisal?’

  ‘Then we will shoot back. And hopefully Mihailovic will feel obliged to do the same. You are both excused from duty for forty-eight hours. You have had an arduous time, and it is not your fault that it has turned out badly. Rest up.’ He grinned. ‘Then go back to your women.’

  In Tito’s determination to create an army, the Partisan force sought recruits wherever they were to be found, and if at first suspicious both of Sandrine’s ability as a soldier and the effect she might have on the morals of his people, Tito had rapidly come to respect her on both counts: she was as determined a fighting soldier as anyone in his command, and she was so utterly devoted to Tony that she never looked at another man and would permit no liberties from anyone. Thus she had been placed in charge of recruiting a regiment of women, as loyal and combative and, as regards sex, single-minded as herself. Her recruits, who already numbered some five hundred, had been formed into a regiment and placed under the command of Tony, with her as his adjutant.

  Tito’s entire army, which now numbered more than three thousand, was divided into several regiments, which mostly operated on their own, although during the last few weeks everyone had been devoted mainly to recruitment and training, and in building defences both in front and behind the town to give them an alternate position should the Germans, as anticipated, begin bombing them. In recruiting, too, there was considerable rivalry with the Cetniks, as both groups sought to draw on the same human reservoir. But whereas the Cetniks would allow only Serbs into their ranks – and monarchist Serbs at that – and accepted no women, the Partisans welcomed anyone who would fight, be they Serb, Croat, Bosnian, Montenegrin, Macedonian, Albanian or Muslim, and regardless of sex. Nor was any recruit required to be a Communist. Tito, himself a Croat, did not trouble to hide the fact that he could see no value in restoring the monarchy after the war, but whatever happened after the war had to wait on the ending of the conflict first, and that meant the defeat of Nazi Germany. It was this pragmatism that had encouraged Tony and Sandrine, neither of whom had the slightest Communist inclinations, to join the Partisans, as it had also attracted large numbers of young people, equally uninterested in politics but determined to resist the Nazi invaders.