The Ring (15 page)

I believe they've all gone to eat. It's he glanced at the clock and then at his captain "it was getting late.

Pigs. All they think of is filling their stomachs. All right, never mind, You'll do just as well. And why weren't you with them, by the way? He glared in annoyance at the chief lieutenant, who returned his superior's look of annoyance with a small, frigid smile.

I'm on duty this evening, sir.

He waved back in the direction of his office at the woman who was partially concealed by the door. Take her downstairs, then. I'm through with her.

Yes, sir. He stood up, saluted smartly, clicked his heels, and walked rapidly into the room.

Stand up. He issued a brisk order and Ariana jumped in her chair.

I beg your pardon?

Captain von Rheinhardt's eyes glinted malevolently as he returned to the room. The lieutenant has ordered you to stand up, fr+nulein. Be so kind as to do what he says. Otherwise, I'm afraid ' well, you know, it would be awkward ' He touched the riding crop at his waist.

Ariana instantly rose to her feet, trying to stem the thoughts running through her mind. What were they going to do to her? The tall blond officer who had ordered her to stand up so brusquely looked terrifying, and she was not encouraged by the small, nasty scar on his cheek. He looked cold-blooded and machinelike and he stood by like an automaton as she walked out of the room.

Have a good evening, fr+nulein, Von Rheinhardt smirked at her back.

Ariana did not answer the captain, and in the outer office the lieutenant grabbed her firmly by the arm. You will follow me and do exactly as I tell you. I do not enjoy quarreling with prisoners, and most particularly women. Be good enough to make this easy for yourself, as well as for me. It was a stern warning, and despite his long strides, she walked along quickly beside him. He had made himself clear. She was a prisoner now. Nothing more than that. And suddenly she couldn't help wondering if even her father would be able to get her out of this.

The tall blond lieutenant led her down two long corridors and then down a long flight of stairs into the bowels of the building, where it was suddenly both damp and cold. They waited for a heavy iron door to be opened after a guard had peeked through a window and nodded his head at the man at her side. The door closed horrifyingly behind them, was bolted, then locked, and she found herself traveling down and other flight of stairs. It was like being led to a dungeon, and when she saw the cell where her journey ended, she realized that it was just that.

The lieutenant said absolutely nothing as a woman sergeant was called and Ariana was frisked and searched. She was then shoved into the cell and the lieutenant stood by as the woman locked the doors. In cells around them women were calling and crying, and once she thought she heard the walls of a child. But she couldn't see any faces, the doors were solid slabs of metal with barred windows only a few inches square. It was the most terrifying place Ariana could imagine, and once inside the dark cell, she had to fight every moment so as not to scream and totally lose control. In the tiny shaft of light that came through the minute window, she could see what she thought was a toilet, and discovered moments later was only a large white metal bowl. She truly was a prisoner somehow that made it real.

In the stench of the cell she began to cry softly, until at last she sank into a corner, dropped her head on her arms, and was wracked by sobs.

When Walmar von Gotthard left the station in Basel that morning, he looked around him carefully before beginning his long walk back to L+|rraeh, to catch the train back to Berlin. Every muscle in his body ached, and he looked finally as dirty and ragged as he had pretended to be the morning before. He looked very little like the banker who ran the Tilden, sat in meetings with the Minister of Finance, and was in effect the most eminent banker in Berlin. He looked like a tired old man who had had a long journey, and no one would have suspected him of having the vast amount of cash that he secretly carried.

He reached the border by noon without problem, and now the long haul was about to begin: the nine-mile walk back to L+|rrach, which he had finished with such victory at the Swiss border only six hours before. Then came the most difficult part of the journey, the road back to Berlin. And then he had to undertake once again the same terrors with Ariana. And once both his children were safely on the Swiss side of the border, he didn't care if he dropped dead in his tracks. In fact, as he crawled through the wires he had cut that morning, he thought that he would be very lucky if he didn't drop dead long before. For a man of his years it had been quite an adventure, but if he could save both Ariana and Gerhard, nothing mattered. He would have done anything in his power, and beyond that, for them.

Once again he stopped, looked around, and listened. Once again he hurried toward the cover of the trees. But this time he was not as lucky as he had been that morning, and he heard footsteps in the brush only a few feet away. He tried to run deeper into the bushes, but the two soldiers were instantly on his heels.

Hi there, grandpa, where you going? To join the army in Berlin?

He tried to grin stupidly at them, but one of the two men on the border patrol nonetheless cocked his gun and took aim at his heart. Where you going?

He decided to tell them, in a thick country accent. To L+|rrach.

How come?

My sister lives there. He felt his heart dancing in his chest.

Does she? How nice. He waved his gun again in the direction of Walmar's breastbone and signaled to the other to commence a search. They tore open his jacket, patted his pockets, and then felt his shirt.

I have my papers in order.

Oh, yeah? Let's see.

He began to reach for them, but before his fingers got there the soldier who had been searching felt something long and smooth concealed under Walmar's right arm.

What's this, grandpa? Hiding something from us? He laughed coarsely and winked at his friend. The old ones were funny. They all thought they were so smart The soldiers tore open the shirt that was now wilted and dirty, never noticing the fine fabric they tore. They had no reason to suspect him. He was just an old country man. But what they found in the secret wallet impressed them, for there was a fortune in large bills and small ones, and their eyes grew round with amazement as they counted what they had found. You were taking this to the F++hrer? They laughed at their own joke and grinned happily at the old man.

He kept his eyes cast down lest they see the anger there and hoped they'd be content just to take his money. But the two soldiers were wise in the ways of war by now. Exchanging a quick glance, they then did what had to be done. The first man stood back while the second one fired. Walmar von Gotthard fell lifelessly into the tall grass around him.

They dragged him firmly by the heels into the deeper brush, stripped him of his papers, pocketed the money, and went back to their hut, where they sat down to count the money in earnest and threw into their open fire the papers of the old man. They never bothered to read them. It didn't matter who he had been. Except to Gerhard, waiting in a hotel room in Zurich. And to Ariana, sitting terrified in her cell in Berlin.

Lieutenant von Tripp signaled to the soldier with the large key ring to open Ariana's cell. The door creaked slowly open, and both men attempted not to react to the stench that always emanated from inside. All the cells were like that because of the dampness, and of course because no one ever cleaned them out.

Freed from her darkness, Ariana was instantly blinded, unable to see in the bright light. She didn't know for how long she'd been there. She only knew that she had been crying for most of the time. But when she heard them coming, she had quickly dried her eyes and attempted to wash the mascara she knew had run down her face with a corner of her lace slip. She smoothed her hair down quickly, and she waited as she heard them unlock her door. Perhaps there was news of her father and Gerhard? She waited and she prayed, longing to hear familiar voices, but there was only the metallic sound of their keys. At last she could see dimly, and she saw the outline of the tall blond lieutenant who had led her there only the day before.

Walk out of your cell, please, and come with me. She stood up shakily, steadying herself against the wall of her cell, and for an instant he wanted to reach out and help her as she stumbled. She looked so incredibly small and so frail. But the eyes that looked into his a moment later were not those of a fragile beauty begging for help; they were the eyes of a determined young woman desperate for survival and trying to maintain an air of dignity against impossible odds. Her hair had come loose from the sleek figure-eight she had worn the previous evening. It hung down her back now, like a loose shaft of wheat. Her skirt was wrinkled, but expensive, and despite the appalling stench in which she had lain for almost twenty-four hours, a faint hint of her perfume still lingered about her hair.

This way, please, fr+nulein. He stepped carefully to one side and walked just behind her, so he could be sure that she didn't escape him, and as he watched her, he felt even sorrier for her than before. She straightened the narrow shoulders and held her head high as they walked, her heels clicking determinedly down the corridors, and again as they walked up the stairs. Only once did she falter, for an instant, bowing her head as though she were too dizzy to go on. He said nothing as he waited, and in a moment she continued up the stairs, grateful that he hadn't pushed her or shouted at her for not moving on.

But Manfred von Tripp was not like the others. Only Ariana did not know that. He was a gentleman, as she was a lady, and not for an instant would he have pushed her, or shouted, or prodded, or whipped. And there were those who didn't like him for that. Von Rheinhardt himself didn't particularly like Von Tripp. But it didn't matter too much because Von Rheinhardt was the captain and he could make Von Tripp dance if he so chose.

As they reached the top of the last flight of stairs, Lieutenant von Tripp once again took a firm grip on her arm and led her back down the familiar hallway, where once again the captain was waiting, grinning and leisurely smoking a cigarette, as he had been the day before. The lieutenant rapidly saluted, clicked his heels, and disappeared.

Good afternoon, fr+nulein. Did you spend a pleasant evening? I hope you were not too ' er ' uncomfortable in your ' ah ' room. Ariana didn't answer. Sit down. Sit down. Please. She took a seat without speaking and stared at him from her seat. I do regret to tell you we have not heard from your father. And I rather fear that some of my conjectures may have been all too true. Your brother has also not surfaced, which makes him, as of today, a deserter. All of which leaves you, dear fr+nulein, for the moment, rather high and dry. And somewhat at our mercy, I might add. Perhaps today you'd like to share with us a little more of what you know?

I know nothing more than what I told you yesterday, Captain.

How unfortunate for you. In that case, fr+nulein, I will not waste your time or mine interrogating you further. I will simply leave you to your own devices, sitting in your cell, while we wait for news. Oh, God, for how long? she wanted to scream as he said it, but nothing showed on her face.

He stood up and pressed the buzzer, and a moment later Von Tripp appeared again. Where the hell is Hildebrand? Every time I call for him, he's off somewhere.

I'm sorry, sir. I believe he's out to lunch. In fact, Manfred had absolutely no idea where he was, nor did he care. Hildebrand was always wandering, leaving everyone else stuck with his damn errand-boy job.

Escort the prisoner back to her cell, then. And tell Hildebrand I want to see him when he comes back.

Very well, sir. The lieutenant shepherded Ariana from the room. She was familiar with lie routine now, the long halls, the endless walk. At least she was not confined in her cell and for these moments she could breathe and move and touch and see. She wouldn't have cared if they had walked her down those halls for hours. Anything except the horrors of the tiny, filthy cell.

It was on the second stairway that they ran into Hildebrand, smiling happily and singing a snatch of a tune. He looked up at Von Tripp, startled, and then with interest his eyes combed Ariana, as they had done the morning before when he had walked into her room in her father's house.

Good afternoon, fr+nulein. Enjoying your stay? She didn't answer, but the look she gave him would have burned holes in rocks. He glanced back at her with irritation and then smiled at Manfred. Taking her back? Manfred nodded with disinterest. He had better things to do than talk to Hildebrand. He couldn't bear the man, or most of the officers he worked with, but ever since he'd been wounded at the front, he'd had to put up with jobs like this.

The captain wants to see you. I told him you were out to lunch.

I was, dear Manfred. In fact, I was. He grinned again then, saluted briefly, and moved on up the stairs as they continued down. He cast a last glance over his shoulder at Ariana as Manfred moved her through the last door, back down the halls, and into the bowels of the building and at last to the door of her cell. Somewhere nearby there was a woman screaming. Ariana shut her ears to the sound and found herself relieved at last to collapse on the floor of her cell.

After three days she walked the corridor again to see the captain; again he told her that her father and brother had not returned. But now she could not understand it, and she knew that either they were lying that they had found her father and Gerhard or something had gone desperately wrong. If they were in fact telling her the truth, then there seemed to be no news of either her father or her brother, and after a few brief moments in his office, Von Rheinhardt sent her away.

This time it was Hildebrand who led her down the corridors, his fingers pressing her flesh to the very bone, yet at the same time, his hand was placed high enough on her arm so that with the back of his hand he could touch her breast. He spoke to her in odd familiar bits and pieces, as though she were some animal to be urged on, with kicks and shoves if necessary, and as he never failed to mention, there was always his whip.