Murder's Art

by Christopher Nicole

  Meanwhile, when he had dealt with Kragujevac, there would be even more dissent between Tito’s people and the Cetniks. See that they are made an example of, the general had said. That was an order he had been waiting to receive for six months.

  He left headquarters, and was driven in his command car to the residence. Guards saluted, servants bowed as he strode through the various halls to the governor-general’s apartment.

  ‘Fritz!’ Angela hurried out of her room, wearing a dressing gown and smelling of bath salts. ‘I did not expect you so soon.’

  ‘I came to say goodbye.’

  ‘Now? You are not staying to dinner?’

  ‘I am sorry. I have to leave now.’

  She frowned. ‘There is trouble? You said you would not be leaving until after the attack.’

  ‘There is some trouble,’ he acknowledged. ‘But nothing I cannot handle.’ He took her in his arms. ‘I shall be gone a few days. Maybe a week.’

  ‘Oh, Fritz.’ She clung to him. ‘Do take care.’

  ‘I always do.’ He kissed her, hugged her body against his, allowed his hands to roam over her shoulders and down her back to squeeze her buttocks. ‘Keep thinking of who I may bring back with me.’

  Six

  Capture

  Wassermann and his escort drove all night, passing on their way a small convoy of ambulances going the other way, and reached Kragujevac just after dawn.

  He was appalled to see that the left-wing pincer did not appear to have moved at all. There were sappers working on the bridge, but the tanks remained parked along the road, and the men were bivouacking; it still had not rained, although the clouds continued to be low and heavy.

  A sergeant directed him to where Brigadier General Leesing was seated with his officers, breakfasting. ‘Ah, Wassermann,’ Leesing said. ‘Come and have a cup of coffee. Your information was not so accurate, eh?’

  Wassermann accepted a cup. ‘My information?’

  ‘You did not know about these women, eh? Women! Shooting at my men. Shooting my men.’

  ‘They are from the town?’

  ‘I have no idea. Seven of them are dead. The other three were badly wounded. They were in such pain I had them drugged with morphine. They need surgery. You can take them back to Belgrade with you.’

  Wassermann handed his empty cup to an orderly. ‘With respect, Herr General, captured guerillas have never been considered prisoners of war.’

  ‘These are women, Wassermann.’

  ‘Taken in arms against the Reich. They are still not covered by the Geneva Convention. Where are they?’

  Leesing waved his hand. ‘Show the major, Bruno.’

  ‘May I ask when you intend to move on, Herr General?’

  ‘I am informed that the bridge will not be ready before ten o’clock this morning. We shall resume our advance as soon as it is safe.’

  ‘The main body has already left Belgrade, Herr General. General von Blintoft expects you to be in position by this afternoon at the latest.’

  ‘I have informed General von Blintoft that we will be late. He accepts this.’

  Wassermann was tempted to make a further comment, but decided it would be a waste of time. ‘You were going to show me these prisoners, Captain.’

  The captain led Wassermann away from the road to a clump of trees, where the seven bodies were stretched out, uniforms bloodstained, faces coldly indifferent to what might now happen to them. But he was interested to note that they were all wearing a uniform of sorts.

  ‘And the wounded?’

  The three women looked as dead as their comrades, except for the fact that their eyes were shut and they were breathing. Their uniforms also were bloodied. ‘They are badly wounded,’ the captain said. ‘They must be got back to Belgrade as quickly as possible. We supposed you would bring an ambulance with you. One was requested. All of our vehicles have been required to transport our own casualties.’

  ‘I passed them on the road. Were they severe?’

  ‘Yes. Twenty-seven dead and forty-three wounded, all in a matter of ten minutes. We were taken entirely by surprise. Now you will have to send these women back in one of your cars.’

  ‘I have no intention of doing that,’ Wassermann told him. ‘These women were taken in arms against the Reich. They will be shot, if they do not simply die.’

  ‘But …’ The captain was clearly appalled, and tried a different tack. ‘They actually weren’t taken in arms, Herr Major. We found them in the house of the mayor.’

  ‘He was giving them shelter?’

  ‘Well, I suppose you could say that, sir. They had been placed in his house by the retreating guerillas.’

  ‘That is what he told you. But you were fired upon from the town.’

  ‘We were fired upon by people from along that slip road over there.’

  ‘Who have now just disappeared.’

  ‘Who retreated, Herr Major. We saw some of them in the trees further up that slope.’

  ‘Some of them,’ Wassermann observed. ‘Very good, Captain. I want you to select a hundred of your best marksmen, and assemble them on the slip road.’

  ‘I do not think there is any chance of overtaking the guerillas now, sir.’

  ‘We do not have to overtake them, Captain. They are right here, waiting for us. Assemble your men.’ He blew his whistle, and Ulrich hurried up. ‘Bring your people and the Ustase squad into the town with me,’ he said.

  ‘Ah … will we not be totally exposed, Herr Major?’

  ‘They will hardly attempt any overt action against us under the guns of a tank squadron and a brigade of infantry,’ Wassermann pointed out.

  Ulrich was clearly considering that these people, or at least their compatriots, had only recently opened fire on this same imposing array, but decided against saying so. The command cars were summoned, and the little cavalcade drove into the town while Captain Ubert assembled his men, having checked with General Leesing that it was in order to obey the major. ‘I assume he intends to make some arrests,’ Leesing said. ‘We must give the police their head, Ubert. Up to a point, anyway.’

  The town hall was in the square, and here Wassermann found the mayor and several other dignitaries waiting for him. As, it seemed, was most of the town, very nearly ten thousand people, relieved that their houses had been left undamaged by the fighting. ‘Herr Major.’ The mayor was a short, stout man, but he wore his chain of office with great dignity. ‘May I assist you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Wassermann said, stepping down from his car. ‘I am here to arrest all of your people who fired upon our column this morning.’

  ‘None of my people took part in the battle, Herr Major. The guerillas were from Uzice.’

  ‘Did your people make any attempt to prevent this cowardly ambush?’

  ‘How could we, Herr Major? They were heavily armed. We have no weapons.’

  ‘But you willingly gave shelter to their wounded.’

  ‘Well, they were women. And they were badly hurt. They could have died.’

  ‘Did you not know they were going to die anyway? Those taken in arms against the Reich, or assisting anyone in arms against the Reich, in Reich-occupied territory, are by definition traitors to the Reich and will be treated as such. This entire town is condemned as guilty.’ The mayor goggled at him. ‘However,’ Wassermann said, ‘I am disposed to be generous. I will not trouble your women and children. Well, not more than is necessary. But you will assemble every adult male in your community. I define adult as anyone over the age of fifteen. And that includes you.’

  The mayor gulped. ‘We are to be imprisoned? All of us?’

  Wassermann smiled at him. ‘No, no, Herr Mayor. You are going to be shot. All of you. I will allow you time to say farewell to your loved ones.’

  Sandrine kept E Company going all night; they had suffered no casualties, and were perfectly fresh. They regained Uzice just before dawn, and she dismissed them and went to bed herself, exhausted. She expected to be joined by Tony,
but when she awakened a few hours later she was still alone. And oddly disoriented. All around her was the bustle of the town preparing to defend itself against the anticipated attack, but there was no sound of aircraft overhead, as had been expected. She dressed herself and went out, but no one had the slightest idea of what had happened to A and B Companies, although the other two had come in. ‘They must have been delayed,’ Anja said. ‘And they had the furthest to travel.’

  ‘I must go and look for them,’ Sandrine insisted.

  ‘You cannot leave the town without permission,’ Anja objected. ‘Not when we are expecting an attack.’

  ‘Show me this attack. And tell me who is in command of this regiment in Tony’s absence?’

  ‘Well, you are.’

  ‘Right. I am giving myself permission to look for them. Until I return, or Tony arrives, you will be in charge.’

  Anja looked doubtful. ‘Do you wish to take some of us with you?’

  Sandrine shook her head. ‘I will do better on my own.’ She knew she ought to report to Tito, and obtain his permission to go and search for the missing women, but she had an idea that he wouldn’t give that permission. Instead, she filled her water bottle, packed some rations, reloaded her tommy-gun, and walked out of the town.

  As she was well known to everyone, no one attempted to question where she was going or tried to stop her. She took the direct route that they had used the night before last, increasingly disturbed that there was no sign of the returning women – or their commander. She walked for a good two hours, fording the odd shallow stream, sticking to the valleys between the low hills but staying off the road, until she realized that Tony was not coming this way; indeed, when she sat down for a drink of water and something to eat – it was now past noon – she thought she could hear the grind of engines in the distance. That could only mean that the Germans had repaired the bridge, and were advancing again. Up this valley!

  Hastily she repacked her haversack, slung her tommy-gun, and climbed the hillside beside her. Tony had either been caught and overrun – which she refused to accept – or he had taken a more westerly route, so as to be out of the path of the German advance. Of course that was what he had done.

  At the top of the hill she paused for breath, and looked about her. Real visibility was limited by the other hills that rose all around her; she could see neither Kragujevac nor the road beyond it. But she could see into the next valley, and wanted to scream for joy when she saw movement down there, flitting in and out of the trees with sufficient stealth to indicate that they were not Germans. They surely had to be Tony’s women.

  She ran down the hill as quickly as she could; she could not risk attracting attention by firing her gun. She arrived at the foot of the slope in a rush of pebbles and dust, and looked left and right. She seemed to be alone, but a moment later she heard movement, and saw people coming through the trees towards her. But these were men, not women, and unlike the Partisans had their hair long, and most of them had beards. ‘Shit!’ she muttered, and then reminded herself that they were all on the same side. But what were Cetniks doing in Partisan-controlled territory?

  ‘Greetings,’ she said. ‘Did you know there are Germans coming this way?’

  ‘You are a Partisan,’ one of the Cetniks accused.

  ‘Sandrine!’

  Sandrine’s head jerked. ‘You!’

  ‘I thought you were dead,’ Maric said. ‘How did you escape from the sewers?’

  ‘You bastard,’ Sandrine said. ‘You betrayed us. You knew the Germans were waiting at the fifth exit!’

  ‘I knew we could not all escape as long as they were looking for us. But once they had you, I knew they would stop looking for me. As they did. Only they didn’t have you.’ He grinned. ‘But now they can have you, and we will get the money.’

  For a moment Sandrine was too furious to understand what he had just said. ‘You are both a traitor and a deserter!’

  ‘Not at all. I have simply decided to serve General Mihailovic instead of General Tito.’

  Sandrine released the catch on her tommy-gun, while understanding that she was far too outnumbered to hope to survive. But then she gave a sigh of relief as she recognised the man coming through the trees towards her. ‘Captain Matovic!’

  ‘I am Major Matovic now, mademoiselle.’

  ‘I congratulate you. And it is good to see you again.’ Which was a lie. She remembered too well his antagonism when she, and Tony and Elena, had been in the Cetnik camp; this man had been responsible for Elena’s arrest. But she had to talk her way out of the mess she had got herself into.

  ‘As it is to see you, mademoiselle.’ He looked up the hillside behind her. ‘Where are the rest of your people?’

  ‘Around,’ Sandrine said cautiously.

  ‘And what are you doing here?’

  ‘I … We are scouting. I should ask, what are you doing here.’

  ‘Scouting,’ he said. ‘I do not think you have any companions. You said “I” just now. Anyway, we would have heard them.’ He drew his pistol, and thrust it forward before she could react. ‘Lay down your weapon. You are under arrest.’

  ‘How can you arrest me? How can you dare to do so?’

  ‘Because you are a wanted woman, and because there is only one of you and twenty of us. And because we are old friends, are we not? The last time I saw you was a moment before your English paramour hit me on the head.’

  ‘It was Ivkov the bath-keeper who hit you on the head.’

  ‘At Davis’s order. Where is the bath-keeper?’

  ‘He is dead.’

  ‘Well, if you do not wish to join him, lay down your gun.’

  Sandrine hesitated, then laid her tommy-gun on the ground. ‘Then what is going to happen to me?’

  ‘There are so many things I would like to have happen to you, mademoiselle. So many things I would like to do to you myself.’ Matovic sighed. ‘But my duty calls. I must hand you over to the Germans.’

  Sandrine stared at him for a moment in utter consternation. Then she dropped to her knees to regain her tommy-gun, but before she could do so her arms were seized by two of the Cetniks. ‘You are a treacherous bastard!’ Sandrine spat at him. ‘A dog!’

  ‘And you are a victim of the fortunes of war, mademoiselle.’

  ‘May we play with her, Captain?’ Maric asked. ‘Just for a little while. I have long wanted to have this woman.’

  Matovic considered. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I promised to hand her over unharmed. So there must not be any serious injuries. But I am sure a woman like the famous Sandrine Fouquet would resist arrest. Or attempt to do so.’

  Tony and Sasha got their people moving at dawn. They sat up together, and looked at each other, Sasha’s cheeks pink as she smoothed her hair. They had not had intercourse, but she had unbuttoned her pants and put his hand inside, closing her thighs on him and moving sufficiently to satisfy herself while she had kissed him almost savagely. He had not attempted to withdraw. He did not consider that he was being unfaithful to Sandrine in restoring Sasha’s morale; he reckoned she was his most able subordinate – after Sandrine, of course. But now the secrets of the night had to remain secrets.

  She brought him breakfast and coffee. ‘What do you want us to do?’ she asked.

  ‘Rejoin our people,’ he said.

  ‘And Sandrine.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And Sandrine.’

  Although Sasha’s nerves – and more – had been restored by the night’s rest, their problems had increased. Now seven of the wounded were no longer capable of walking, and they had no analgesic drugs. ‘Make more stretchers,’ Tony said. ‘We cannot leave them behind.’ This slowed their progress even more. He had hoped to regain Uzice by mid-morning – it had taken them less than twenty-four hours to get from the town to their position outside Kragujevac – but it was noon before they saw the rooftops and were challenged.

  ‘Colonel Davis,’ said the lieutenant commanding the picquet. ‘We have bee
n worried about you.’ He looked over the exhausted women.

  ‘We had some problems,’ Tony said. ‘The rest of my people?’

  ‘They came in this morning.’

  ‘And the Germans? We have seen no planes.’

  ‘There have been no planes. We do not understand.’

  Tony nodded. ‘Sasha, take your women into camp and dismiss them. I will send you medics for the wounded. You must rest for a while, or until the Germans attack.’

  Sasha hesitated, looking as if she would have said something, then rejoined her company.

  Tony reported to Tito, who was waiting with apparently total confidence and patience in his office. ‘That is good work,’ the general said. ‘How long do you estimate they will take to get moving?’

  ‘A minimum of six hours. Then their advance will be slow, in anticipation of another ambush.’

  ‘Excellent. That means they will hardly have the time to establish their position before our withdrawal commences. How did your women behave?’

  ‘Very well, in battle. A considerable reaction set in after we withdrew. We took some casualties, and we had to leave our more seriously wounded behind.’

  ‘You would have done better to shoot them.’

  ‘I did order that to be done. But my women would not obey.’

  ‘So they are not quite as battle-ready as you supposed. They will learn. What are they doing now?’

  ‘I have dismissed them for a few hours. They are all exhausted.’

  Tito nodded. ‘I have had a report from our scouts that the main German force has left Belgrade, and is advancing towards us along the road. I estimate they will be here by dusk, so we may anticipate an aerial bombardment at that time or even during the night. I would say the main assault will begin at dawn. So we are going to start moving out as soon as it is dark, back to our secondary defence. But it is essential to force the enemy to commit herself and attack the town. That will mean it will take him several hours to disengage and regroup before he can begin his pursuit. You go and have a sleep, and then get your regiment together and prepare to move out.’