Authors: Alan Bricklin
"I guess so. Hey, you know who else I saw there when I
got in this morning?"
"No, who?"
"That's just it. I don't know. But I've seen him
before. In Switzerland, and for me that pretty much means Zurich or Bern.
German military, I'm sure, although he was in civies."
Dulles smiled. "Mary, this is a neutral country in the
midst of enemy nations. There are all kinds of people here, some of them
military. Are you starting to see plots at every turn?" Even as he said
it, Dulles knew it was the wrong thing to say. Mary was very bright, not prone
to histrionics and was a careful observer, one with even more patience than
Dulles. In addition, her work in analyzing news reports had taught her the
importance of correlation and how a single item, seemingly insignificant at one
time, might provide a crucial link at a later date. Had Templeton been a fly on
the wall he would have thought immediately of his lecture to Kent at the ornate
gated entrance to the park. Allen, contrition in his voice, went on, "I'm
sorry, I didn't mean to sound condescending. There's just too damn much going
on now."
"No offense taken."
"Did you get a good look at him?"
"Quite."
"Describe him and I'll see what I could find out."
Larry stood at a signpost that read, "Munich 5 K." He
leaned against the upright, forcing himself to breathe heavily so it looked
like he was resting. Glancing around aimlessly while pretending to catch his
breath, he went over the city plan in his head, found a landmark in a nearby
factory, its single tall smokestack reduced to a pile of bricks, and was able
to determine exactly where he was and how he would be entering the city. It
struck him that most highway markers were still intact whereas in France and
other countries conquered by the Nazis all such items that might help the enemy
or give then guidance were removed or repositioned to confuse the intruders. He
thought it might be because the French knew that with the help of the allies
their subjugation would be only temporary, while the German population knew
that there would be no going back, that they could never oust the invaders of
their land. They would leave in their own time. It also might be, he reasoned,
that the higher ups refused to acknowledge that defeat was even a possibility.
Before striking off again one more odd thought insinuated itself into his
consciousness. He had hardly coughed at all in the last twenty-four hours, nor
had he found himself panting during his long trek towards Munich. It was a
situation that required some thought, but now was not the time; it would have
to wait.
May as well enjoy the break.
The night was spent behind a derelict garage, long since
emptied of anything useful and hence not a place especially frequented by the
people of the night. Nonetheless, Larry slept with one eye open, leaning
against what remained of the rear wall, his change of clothes under his rump
for protection of both the clothes and the flesh that surmounted them. In the
morning he removed his pants and shirt, did the best he could to wash his hands
and face in a bit of standing water he found on the concave surface of one of
the large stones that had formed the foundation of the ruined edifice, and put
on the clothes that the boy had pilfered for him. They were a surprisingly good
fit. His well-muscled torso filled out the shirt nicely although the pants were
too big in the waist and had to be cinched in with his belt.
A lot of people
have lost weight with the shortage of food. Can't imagine anyone would give it
a second look.
The tie was definitely out of place so he folded it neatly
and put it in his pocket. It could be useful as a garrote in a pinch. He had
slept longer than planned, a backfiring truck startling him from a deep sleep,
but was glad for the extra rest and the renewed energy it seemed to bring.
Satisfied with his orientation and confident that he looked
the part of a laborer —— poor, but without the lost, feral look of
one of the dispossessed, dangerous marauders who roamed the perimeter of
societies whose rule of law had begun to unravel. Taking a deep lungful of the
late morning air, he set off to Munich, determination in his stride and
strength in his face, an honest workman going to seek employment. Although the
distance was not great, his progress was slow due to increasing congestion,
occasional detours and the need to pause to reorient himself.
By mid afternoon he reached the quiet street outside of the
commotion of the city center, where Schroeder's ward maintained her small
apartment, and after walking two blocks he was alongside the entrance, passing
it without slowing his pace. There was no one ahead of him and he kept walking
for about twenty meters feet before doing an about face, pantomiming someone
who has forgotten something, and walking back in the direction from which he
had come. He saw no one in this direction either and this time when he reached
the entrance he hurried up the steps, prepared to use his knife if the outer
door was locked. It wasn't, but it led to a very small vestibule with a dozen
or so mailboxes and a locked door at the other end. Before the street door had
completely closed behind him, Larry had his knife out and was visually inspecting
the door as he approached it. There was a deadbolt, but it wasn't thrown;
perhaps that was saved for at night when all of the residents were home. The
door was secured by a latch, apparently one that could be actuated by a control
from within the apartments so guests could be let in without the inhabitant
having to leave the comfort of their apartment. The knife slipped easily into
the space between the door and the jamb, but when he snapped it back the blade
almost bent, the latch retreating only a small distance.
God damn these
Germans and their mechanical prowess. There must be some kind of secondary
locking mechanism.
Larry tried finessing it and applying whatever he could
remember about picking locks but it was no use. The latch would not recede
enough to clear the rear of the metal latch receptacle. Fear of discovery
started to well up and he had to resort to the always available backup of brute
force. Holding the stubborn latch as far back as it would go, he put his
shoulder to the door and pushed. Nothing. Still holding the knife in place, he
pulled back until his arm was fully extended and his shoulder was as far away
from the door as he could get it.
Shit, this is going to hurt.
Larry
lunged forward and impacted hard on the door. The latch, only partly engaged,
sprang from its docking mechanism and the door flew backwards, propelling him
into the small lobby from which a set of stairs led to the upper levels. He
managed to keep the heavy door from running the full excursion of its hinges
and banging against the wall, although he almost lost his balance in the
process.
Ignoring the sharp pain from his shoulder he quickly closed
the door and darted onto the steps, hugging the wall for as much cover as
possible. He two stepped up to the landing immediately below Maria's floor and
peered down the hall. A door closed somewhere along the passageway, someone's
curiosity either satisfied or felt to be best left unfulfilled. At this point
in the arc of the Nazi party, at about its nadir, most of the population considered
it best to stay out of other people's business, unlike in years gone by when
everyone watched everyone else to make sure their national fervor was of
sufficient verve so as not to embarrass their country or its leaders. When a
minute passed and there were no other forays into the hall, he proceeded to the
apartment, inhaled slowly and deeply, then knocked.
The door was opened in short order and a classic Teutonic
beauty stood there, holding the door partly opened with one arm, the other
resting on the jamb, her body blocking the entrance. And what a body it was,
thought Larry. The picture that his CO had given to him was portrait style and
it didn't really convey the essence of the beauty who now stood before him. It
failed to convey many things about Eva. Larry quickly returned his gaze to her
face.
"May I help you?"
"I have often admired you." The recognition code
came out dry and raspy, mostly due to Larry's poor hydration during the last
twenty-four hours, although the site of so beautiful a woman after such a long
time of essential celibacy no doubt contributed something to the parched state.
Eva turned up her nose slightly, delicately sniffing the
rather malodorous air that emanated from Larry, a smile on her face as she
said, "From afar, I would hope."
The humor was lost on Larry, focused as he was on making
contact and getting to shelter. All that registered was that the countersign
was incorrect and that meant danger. "I'm terribly sorry, I must have the
wrong apartment." He turned to go, but Eva stepped into the hallway after
him and put a restraining hand on his arm.
"I hope you still have the picture my mother gave
you." With great relief, Larry turned back, and after scanning the
corridor for unwanted observers, Eva ushered him into the apartment, closing
and locking the door behind them. "You are days later than expected. What
happened?"
"Complications."
"That's it, just 'complications?'"
"Nothing that will compromise our plans, and nothing
worth repeating. Let's just leave it at that."
"As you wish. By the way, I'm Maria; what is your
name?"
"Lorenz."
"Ah, a nice German name. Very good. Well, Lorenz, would
you like to eat something or take a shower first?"
"I'm starved, but I think a shower has to come
first."
"I was hoping you would say that." Larry began to
apologize for his appearance and his smell but was silenced as Eva held up her
hand dismissively. "I did not think the passage into the country would be
easy. You don't need to make excuses for your condition; you are to be
congratulated on your endurance. Come, let me show you where the bath is."
She led him into the bedroom. "The bath is through that door. There are
towels in there as well as a razor and shaving soap. I'll leave fresh clothes
on the dresser here. Hand out what you're wearing and I'll dispose of it,
although it doesn't look as decimated as you."
"It was stolen just the other day, but only the pants
and shirt. Everything else probably should be burned."
"I see. If it was stolen we best get rid of it
all."
"You're right." They exchanged small talk through
the partially open door while he undressed, Eva asking about the progress of
the final allied advance on Germany, Larry telling her truthfully that he
didn't really know very much other than it seemed to be proceeding fairly
quickly. Larry in turn asked her about current conditions in Germany,
especially Munich and its environs. She explained that Munich was considered a
relatively safe city, and was subject to far fewer air attacks than other, more
industrialized cities. However, the same shortages of food and services existed
and the same travails were visited on the citizenry as were present throughout
the nation.
Larry handed out the clothes and Eva took them, using the
opportunity to glance at the mirror in the bathroom where Larry's naked form
brought a smile to her face. "I'll make some food for you. Come out to the
kitchen when you're dressed. She rummaged through a few drawers picking out
items for Larry that seemed appropriate, then went back to the main room of the
apartment, clothes in hand.
The hot water felt good on his tired and sore muscles, and
as the grime from days on the road flowed down the drain his spirits improved.
He lingered longer than usual, until the water started turning tepid, before
turning off the faucets, stepping out of the bath and toweling off. It wasn't
until he was shaving that his stomach began protesting in earnest, and in his
rush to get to the source of the pleasant odors wafting in from the kitchen, he
had to exert the utmost care and restraint to keep from seriously injuring
himself with the razor. He quickly combed his hair then looked at his
reflection in the mirror, the image confronting him presentable although
several steps from dapper, but "sometimes," he thought, "good
enough is good enough." Wrapping a towel around himself he walked into the
bedroom to get dressed. There were no clothes left out, not on the dresser or
on the bed. "Maria, where did you leave the clothes?"
"Oh, I'm sorry Lorenz, I forgot and brought them in here
with me. Could you come and get them?"
"Sure." Exiting the bedroom, he found Eva sitting
in a well worn chair, looking through a magazine, a glass of wine in her hand.
He wondered where she was able to find wine, considering the dire straits of
the population, but he supposed that General Schroeder had something to do with
it. The clothes were on a small table next to the chair and, setting the glass
down, she picked up the small bundle and tossed them at Larry. Instinctively he
reached out to gather in the oncoming haberdasher's projectile, and in so
doing, the towel came loose and started to slide off. Quick hands and superior
coordination managed to prevent a complete disaster, the towel caught and held
in his clenched right fist, its folds draping over his privates, and his right
forearm and left hand supporting the unexpected parcel of clothes. The only
casualty was a single sock lying on the floor at his feet.
"That was foolish of me," she said, a lascivious
smile anything but hidden. "I'll pick that up for you."
"No! That's OK, I'll come out and get it after I'm
dressed." Larry started to turn, then remembered his exposed rear and
backed into the bedroom, Eva's eyes following him all the way.
Several minutes later he emerged from the bedroom, dressed in
freshly laundered clothes, feeling better than he had in many days, although
his hunger was now at a frenzied pitch what with the apartment filled with
tantalizing odors. Eva was setting out a plate for him, and he wasted no time
in sitting down and unfolding the napkin, turning expectantly to the small
stove on which sat several steaming pots. Larry sipped wine from simple
stemware as his hostess ladled out a thick soup of aromatic beef stock with
potatoes, carrots and cabbage, then placed a basket of dark bread next to him.
"I'm sorry but there is no butter to be had."