Authors: Vic Robbie
A
lthough warm outside
, the temperature in Ben’s cell fell as fast as his morale. Empty. No bed. No water. No food. No toilet. The stone-flagged floor crawled with all kinds of insects from ants to corpulent cockroaches. For the first couple of hours, he had paced the confines of his cell – five steps one way, four the other – wondering if Natalie could survive. She had risked her life to save his. Now the onus was on him to rescue her from a painful and horrible death. He had run through the possibilities of escaping and realised it was hopeless. Perhaps if he confessed to working for Smee, he might be able to stall them, although he knew he’d still face the firing squad and Natalie would be left to rot.
How long would they keep him here? Until Natalie had endured a long and lingering death and they would parade what was left of her body like a hunting trophy before disposing of him? At least, his would be a more merciful death than Natalie’s. In frustration, he had slammed a fist into the rough granite wall of his cell and regretted it immediately. The hopelessness of their plight ate into him and he slumped against the wall gradually slipping down until he lay on the cold floor. He used his shoes as a pillow to keep his head away from the marauding cockroaches. And he hoped darkness would blanket the disturbing images flashing through his mind. Sleep came.
‘
G
et up
, get up.’ Horst stood over him, kicking him in his side.
‘Where’s my coffee?’ he said, rolling out of range of the German’s boot.
‘The General thought you might like to see how his little experiment is going.’ Horst sneered at him and dragged Ben to his feet and shoved him towards the door.
Two of his men grabbed his arms and steered him down some long corridors before pushing open an iron-studded door and entering a much larger room.
The fetid atmosphere and the stench of human waste overpowered his senses and almost made him retch. He turned his face away and tried to bring up his arms to block the smell, but the Nazis kept them pinned to his side. It made his eyes water, but gradually they cleared and he saw a barrel sitting in the middle of the room. Squadrons of flies buzzed around it and the surface was alive with wriggling insects. Two other Nazis stood either side of the barrel, both wearing facemasks so only their eyes showed.
As they forced him closer, what he’d first thought was a black rag laying on the top of the barrel turned out to be Natalie’s head. He gasped. It was as though her head existed independent of a body. Just a head placed on a table. Her eyes were closed and then, as if sensing him, she opened them and they were pleading for an end to her agony. Her hair was coated and matted, her eyes dark and sunken, and in contrast her skin glowed a deathly white. She tried to speak, but her lips were so swollen and cracked nothing came out, just the rattle of a dying animal.
‘What do you think, Peters?’ Von Bayerstein entered the room and stood behind him, rubbing his hands together. ‘Seems to be going well.’
‘Put her out of her misery, you bastard.’
‘Sorry, she does not look quite so appealing this morning.’ He appeared to be enjoying it. ‘While you have been sleeping, she has been working. Or eating, I should say. She has been force-fed every hour. The creatures inhabiting her demand it, and, of course, the more they eat, the more they breed, and that means more mouths to feed.’
‘How can you do this to another human being?’
‘What are you complaining about? We let you sleep. Usually, we hang people like you on meat hooks and let them suffocate slowly in their own blood and vomit. Anyway, it will not be long now. Once their eggs hatch inside her, they will start eating her. She can feel them now moving about inside her like lice. Then she will tell us everything we need to know. The physical pain in her body will become too much to bear and her mind will surrender first. She will cease to exist as a person, and just be a host the bugs feast on, like a maggoty piece of old meat. They will eventually make their way into her brain and start eating it and it will be like switching the lights off one by one in a large building. And in the end there will be nothing left of her, just a shell with its innards scooped out.’
He gagged and almost threw up.
‘Our
Führer
says you attack an enemy from within through propaganda and terror. When people, be they Americans or anyone, see what we will do to whoever opposes us it strikes fear in their hearts and then they are already half beaten.’
Natalie moved her head from side to side and a rasping sound came from her throat.
‘The time may have arrived,’ von Bayerstein said, ordering one of the men to ‘give her some water, I think she wants to speak.’
The rasping became louder, but what she said was still unintelligible.
With a look of annoyance, he gestured for Horst to step closer to her. ‘Tell me what she is saying,’ he ordered him. Horst crouched down beside her, placing a hand over his nose.
‘She says–’ Horst began.
‘Never mind that, man. Just repeat her words.’
‘Free me and I will tell you everything you need to know,’ Horst relayed, pausing while she struggled to get out the words, finding it difficult to swallow.
‘I am afraid it does not work that way,’ von Bayerstein said, lighting a cigarette and gratefully inhaling the smoke as it disguised the smell. ‘Tell me everything and if I believe you, I will let you go. You have my word as a gentleman.’
Ben snorted.
She coughed and her whole body shook and a swarm of flies flew away. ‘Very important...’
‘Go on, go on,’ he insisted, impatience crowding his face.
‘Assassination,’ Horst said.
Ben glanced at the General whose eyes were focusing on Natalie.
‘Admiral Robert to be assassinated.’ There was a long pause as she tried to recover the impetus to force the words out to Horst. ‘Robert to be killed to destabilise … pave the way for Free French … take control.’
‘And who is going to do this?’ Von Bayerstein stepped closer to her and quickly stepped back wrinkling his nose in disgust.
‘Agent sent to kill.’
‘You?’
‘No, no.’ She coughed what looked like blood.
With great effort, she nodded in Ben’s direction, and she sighed as though that was her last breath and her eyes closed.
‘So, I was right to put him before a firing squad,’ the General said smugly. ‘But I still believe you are the brains behind this.’
He was surprised by the strength of her voice. ‘No, Peters is the assassin. Ask your people in New York. Photograph of him in
New York Times
with D D Durant, of the State Department. Check his hotel room, there’s a radio, map of the Fort, and a pistol.’
‘And you are his accomplice?’
‘I was sent to stop him.’ Her chin sank onto the barrel and her eyes closed again with the exhaustion of speaking.
Ben found what she’d said surprising, but his face didn’t register it. If this were her last throw of the dice, he would go along with it.
‘You see, my experiment does work.’ Von Bayerstein turned to him.
‘For Christ’s sake, man, can’t you let her out of the barrel or put her out of her misery now she has confessed.’
‘We will let nature take its course.’ The German shook his head with a hint of regret. ‘As for you, you have failed. You were sent here by the Americans and now I will give you back to Horst to find out what else you can tell us and then if you are helpful I will let you die.’
‘Let Natalie go and I’ll tell you everything.’
‘You will anyway.’
‘Is there anything I can do to save her?’
‘It’s too late for that now.’ Von Bayerstein stared at him as though he were assessing the options then walked away. ‘Natalie has to pay for what she has done.’
He stopped and turned back. ‘But perhaps, if–’
‘What?’
‘If you could bring Raymond to me,’ the General said with an amused smile.
‘The Resistance leader?’
‘No. That’s impossible.’ Von Bayerstein waved away the idea and made to leave the room.
‘Wait.’
The General stopped although he didn’t face him.
‘I might be able to help.’ He sensed he had his attention. ‘You want Raymond badly,’ he said stepping away from his guards and went over to Natalie and placed a comforting hand on her head.
Von Bayerstein turned slowly. ‘Explain.’
‘I can lead you to him.’
‘How do you propose to do that?’
‘I can get to him. I can flush him out into the open and then you can do whatever you want with him.’
Von Bayerstein gave a hollow laugh. ‘Why do you think you will succeed where my men have failed?’
‘Because he’s met me and I think he trusts me. He knows I’m on his side.’
Deep in thought, von Bayerstein nodded and glanced at Horst as though for guidance. ‘It is possible, it might work.’
‘In return, you must release Natalie and give us free passage off the island as neutrals.’
‘You are in no position to bargain, but if we could get Raymond, it might well be worth it. We could crush the Resistance on the island once and for all.’
‘I would need your word as a gentleman you’d free us,’ he persisted.
Von Bayerstein dropped his cigarette on the stone floor and stubbed it out with his foot. ‘Very well, we will play your game. We have nothing to lose. But for the time being we will arrest your American friends and Natalie will stay in the barrel. That should focus your mind on what you have to do.’ He signalled his men to let him go and, as Ben reached the door, the General added: ‘You have little time. A day or so at the most,’ he waved his hand, ‘before she is eaten alive.’
P
aradiso stood
outside a remote farmhouse on the lower slopes of Mount Pelée awaiting the last group of his men to arrive. He greeted each arrival with a respectful nod of the head before they were taken inside for food and drink. Escorted by members of the Resistance, they had travelled in small groups of no more than four so as not to arouse suspicion. Some came from Dominica in the north, making landfall at Grand Rivière, while others arrived from the island of St Lucia in the south. There were forty in total and none of them was armed. Each carried false papers showing they originated from Puerto Rico and he knew of every one of them. Some he had worked alongside. Those he’d not worked with came highly recommended by colleagues he trusted. Some looked what they were, hard men; others could disappear in a crowd. To a man, they were well trained and knew how to kill. He was confident they could easily take care of the Nazis in Fort Desaix, but he wasn’t so sure of the Resistance’s capabilities.
‘The volcano is more than 4,000 feet high,’ Jean-Paul, one of Raymond’s lieutenants was telling him, ‘and a killer.’
He lit a Lucky Strike while he surveyed their surroundings he supposed some might describe as ruggedly beautiful, but he wasn’t really listening.
‘Almost forty years ago it erupted,’ Jean-Paul continued undeterred, ‘and it engulfed the town of Saint Pierre, which some called the Paris of the West Indies. Around thirty thousand people were killed in a matter of minutes.’ He clicked his fingers to emphasise how quick it had been. ‘Look up there, it blew off the top of the mountain.’
He automatically followed his hand although he was more interested in the security of their present location. The dumbfuck pissed him off. A history lesson was the last thing he needed now. Jean-Paul had insisted they were safe as police and government patrols rarely ventured here, and lookouts had been posted to warn of any unwanted visitors to the area. He realised that once down in Fort-de-France they would be vulnerable if the Resistance were anything less than as efficient as they claimed to be. The whole operation turned on the element of surprise. If the Nazis got a hint of their presence, they’d be dead meat.
He didn’t like working in wide-open spaces. A city boy, he preferred the backdrop of buildings, operating in backstreets where they had plenty of cover. He had never doubted himself going into a hit, but this was different, far bigger than anything he’d ever attempted. Usually, plans were made down to the last nut and bolt and palms were greased. This was alien to him and there were too many variables and he was relying on people he didn’t know. That made him nervous.
Any doubts were pushed to the back of his mind as he forced himself to concentrate on the positives – like the gold. It was always about the gold. Had been since he first heard the blonde talking about it. He imagined holding one of the bars, caressing it like you would a woman, and now he was almost within touching distance of it. If it went well, his bosses had promised a hefty bonus. No figures mentioned. He could rely on them to be generous. He had also decided to award himself a bonus and would make sure a gold bar returned with him to New York. Thoughts of gold conjured up images of the blonde waiting for him on her bed, and it was making him feel horny. And on the periphery of his dream his wife was waiting like a bit-part player in the wings. She had set her mind on a house out in the suburbs with those goddamn white picket fences where they could raise their kids and keep them away from the evils of the streets. That wouldn’t be a problem. He would be able to afford it and she’d be happy in the suburbs while he enjoyed himself in the city.
‘Boss,’ Benny came out from the house.
He turned to face him, flicking away the cigarette butt with a thumb. ‘How’re the men doin, eh?’
‘You know how they can get,’ Benny said. ‘Unsettled. Nervous because they ain’t packin. Feelin a bit naked.’
He agreed. He didn’t like being separated from his Colt. ‘Tell the dumbfucks to relax, eat and have a drink.’ He glanced at Jean-Paul. ‘When will we get the gear, eh?’
‘It’ll be here very soon,’ Jean-Paul assured him.
‘Then we’ll get our hands on the gold.’ Benny’s eyes sparked at the prospect.
If only he knew. No one was going to see it let alone touch the stuff. Well, apart from him, of course. Their mission was a straightforward termination operation. Eradicate the Nazis to give the Resistance a clear run. The only gold his men would see would be in the fillings of their teeth when they looked in the shaving mirror. After the gold was shipped to New York or wherever was decided, the men would be paid well for their work. He would have his little souvenir and take it back to the blonde and lay it between her massive breasts while he fucked her.
Raised voices and the laughter of his men enjoying a joke emanated from the farmhouse. He chuckled to himself. The Nazis had no idea what was coming their way.