‘He can’t have gone far. Split up.’
A truck sped past and then another. Hugo walked towards the commotion. The girl was bundled over the tailgate and a guard stayed with her as another two climbed into the cabin. Hugo hid the pistol behind his back and flagged the driver down from the mirror.
‘Can I help you Captain?’
‘Apologies, private but it appears as though someone has taken my truck, could I trouble you for a ride back to the barracks?’
The soldier nodded nervously and snapped at the man sitting beside him to go and open the door for the Captain.
‘Many thanks,’ Hugo said, tucking the pistol slyly back into it’s sheath.
He slid in between the two men and the truck growled and kicked off the curb and towards the end of the street. A signpost trailed by. Hugo followed it until it passed the window and vanished, his frown growing tighter.
‘Forgive me, gentlemen but isn’t the barracks in that direction.’
‘It is,’ sniggered the driver, ‘we just have to a quick detour. Colonel Herman was very clear on what we should do with the girl.’
‘And what was that?’ Hugo asked, his fingers leaving his lap and sliding down towards the crest of his holster.
‘To take her to Drancy...’ The driver spoke as though Hugo hadn’t understood a hilarious joke.
‘I see,’ Hugo grinned, ‘you should have said.’ All three men began an orchestra of laughter.
The driver nodded and chortled until something sharp poked his ribcage. He glanced down to see the nub of a pistol lodged into his gut. Hugo looked across the bench.
‘I suggest you take a leap of faith, brother.’
The soldier looked at Hugo and then at the driver but he didn’t budge. The driver gently placed his foot over the brakes, much to Hugo’s annoyance.
‘I don’t remember saying slow down.’
He glared back at the cowering man in the corner.
‘Place your hand around that handle, open the door and jump out.’
Seeing that his words were wasted on his dumbfounded opponent, Hugo removed the gun from the driver’s ribs and jabbed it into his neck.
‘You fall into a ditch or land there with a bullet in your head brother, decide.’
The soldier unlatched the door and hurled himself through the breezy frame, landing amidst a drum of tyre spun dirt. Hearing the upheaval, the soldier in the back of the cabin released
Ludivine and peered out past the shuddering tailgate. His eyes widened as he watched one of his colleagues barrel sharply across the road and he was just about to fetch up his rifle when the shutter from the front cabin slid over, revealing the slender nose of a Luger. Three shots fired and he fell backwards and tumbled over the rail, crashing onto the path below.
‘You won’t get away with this,’ sneered the driver. Hugo reloaded and pushed the chamber back into the gun.
‘Pull over.’
The truck murmured to the side of the road and merged onto a bank of shallow grass. Hugo yanked the keys from the engine and cracked the driver around the head with the butt of his
handgun He headed around to the back of the truck and climbed into the cabin. Ludivine shrunk into the corner, her hands bound and eyes wide with fear and tears.
‘It’s alright,’ Hugo assured, ‘I’m here to help you.’
She let out an overwhelming scream, a cry of relief and clung at Hugo’s shoulders, grappling and nestling her head into his chest. Her tears were hot against his fingers.
‘You’re okay,’ Hugo repeated. Her fear had been trembling within her thin arms for some time.
‘I need you to do something for me,’ he handed her a key, ‘I need you to take this handcuffs and go and sit in the cabin.’ She nodded and Hugo held the tailgate cover down for her as she walked gingerly towards the cab. Hugo skipped round to the driver’s seat and pulled away the unconscious soldier, dragging his limp body out onto the dirt path.
‘Aren’t you going to shoot him?’ Fear spoke for
Ludivine.
‘No,’ replied Hugo, ‘we won’t be around when he wakes.’
He climbed into the truck and snapped at the ignition.
‘Let’s get you back.’
THE LANDING
Private Schulze glanced through the window. Paris sat below. He thought of it as some sort of masterpiece, an unfinished canvas that the artist had dotted with golden paint, mapping out his next sketch. The spots of darkness were scarily beautiful, empty spaces, lost within a city of glinting beauty.
‘Everything okay Private?’
He looked across the seat to find the Major studying him.
‘Yes, Major. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen something so mesmerising.’
‘It is beautiful isn’t it, but then I suppose everything is, at first glance.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking Major, what’s the plan?’
‘Then plan is find Tobias Vilsmaier. At any cost. We’ll check into the hotel he was staying at and take it from there. The troops will stay in the lobby and wait for further orders.’
Private Schulze nodded. He felt the plane veer beneath his feet and his stomach trembled. It wouldn’t be long until they landed. He peeked down the gangway. Twelve seats were taken. Twelve storm troopers, personally selected by the Major himself. The aircraft touched down with a sharp jolt and backed into a bunker at the end of the runway. Two cars waited for them. Private Schulze and the Major climbed into the nearest leaving the troupe of black trench coats to follow closely behind.
The hotel could have been ten minutes away, maybe more. It was a huge building, decorated with golden angels lying atop the entrance canopy and tea light tinted trees. A valet came and collected the car and the doorman led the pair inside, showing them straight to the elevator shaft, no check in needed.
‘We have you in our two finest rooms, Sir.’
The elevator stopped at the eighteenth floor and they were led through a hallway of crimson and blue decor, arriving at room 1709.
‘Your room is next door, private.’
The usher left them and vanished behind the elevator doors.
‘Allow yourself twenty minutes to clean up, and then meet back here.’
Private Schulze saluted and marched down the corridor.
Major Anaheim rattled the door handle and crept inside. The room was vast and had been showered in flattering ornaments and spouts of colourful flowers. Schulze undressed and stepped into the shower. The cold water cooled his warming face. He stepped out and wrapped himself with a towel and ruffled away the chill. The night lingered at the balcony windows as he padded into the lounge. He poured himself a drink to calm himself. He felt slightly uneasy though he wasn’t entirely sure why. After unzipping a suit bag that hung over the sofa he admired the uniform inside and peeled away the crisp white shirt before curling it over the arch of his back. It was a perfect fit and he tightened the cuffs with two swastika shaped cufflinks. The dark olive green trousers slinked against his legs and the shoes slipped on next, sparkling brown with a ladder of black lacing. His jacket was a platform for the measured stretch of glinting medals and pins. A knock shook the door.
THE ELEVATOR SHAFT
He blew at the arm rest and wiped away any lingering dust. His hands were scorched, so red that they itched. Gerard came to his side and handed him a damp cloth.
‘Have you ever seen anything like that?’
Stefan took the cloth and began swathing at the brass frame.
‘No, they didn’t say what it was for?’
‘No,’ replied Gerard, ‘I must have missed that part.’
‘Do you trust them?’
‘All I know is, if it wasn’t for them, we would be dead, our family, everyone.’
Stefan couldn’t help but think about his wound and gave it away with a quick glance.
‘How is-you know?’
‘Fine,’ Stefan said sullenly.
‘Hey,’ persisted Gerard, ‘you need to see someone, a doctor.’
‘I said I’m fine.’
The door across the lot swung open and Klaus stepped inside.
‘Finished?’
Stefan nodded and moved to one side, revealing the sparkling framework.
‘Okay,’ Stefan huffed, ‘now are you going to tell us where our friends and family are?
‘Soon,’ Klaus replied as he admired the assembly of glimmering brass.
‘No,’ Stefan yelled, ‘we had a deal.’
Klaus felt the glare of a pistol aimed at his back.
‘Stefan stop, this isn’t the way.’
‘How do we know,’ Stefan spat, ‘how do we know this isn’t all some game, some plot to capture us all.’
Klaus turned to face the gun.
‘If that were true you would already be dead. Now if we are all done playing, we have to proceed with the final chapter.’
‘And what of our friends?’
Klaus walked past him.
‘They’ll be joining us.’
The elevator pinged and Private Schulze marched out into the lobby. A dozen or so people lingered in the foyer. Seven of those were dressed in black and carrying machine guns. The Major’s visit wasn’t so inconspicuous. He arrived at the reception desk and set down a large packet.
‘Excuse me, I found this in my room, it’s addressed to another room here, could I leave it with you?’
‘Of course, Sir,’ a woman said politely, ‘leave it with me, my apologies for the inconvenience.’
She took the envelope and tucked it into the wall of pigeon holes. The Private thanked her and strode back towards the elevator where two more soldiers now stood. It was time to find
Niklaus Linder.
Tobias peered over the newspaper. He counted nine SS officers, two guarding the entrance, five stalling around the seating area across the way and two more standing against the elevator. He folded the newspaper into a neat square and adjusted the tie around his neck before sliding away from the armchair and strolling heedlessly over to a bank of phones. The receiver lifted under his thumb and he raised it to his mouth, twirling at the rattle of numbers.
‘Operator.’
Tobias covered his mouth and muttered a few short words before the crackling voice on the other end thanked him and began to transfer. The tone dropped and another voice appeared.
‘Yes?’
Again Tobias held a hand over his lips.
‘Nine in plain sight, rig the main elevator in the foyer.’
The call ended and Tobias latched the receiver against the bank before returning to his seat.
Showtime.
Michel parked up and turned down the lights. A cook scuttled into the alleyway and thrust a bucket of garbage into a skip before heading back inside. Stefan glanced at Hugo and he nodded in return, confirming that this was the only plausible way into the hotel. They lowered the tailgate and heaved the chair down onto the rain swept pathway.
‘Be careful, Stefan.’ He smiled at the ghostly faces of his friends as they hid within the back cabin and he blew them a kiss. The rain rushed him and he grabbed at the framework that encased the chair and wheeled it towards the kitchen doors. The plan was hot in his mind, so much so that it made him terribly restless. The doors opened behind him and Patrice stood in the doorway, a nervous grin etched across his face. It was the first time Stefan had ever seen him in a suit and a fine suit at that, fitted chest shirt with a black blazer, satin red tie and pocket square to match. Stefan nodded at him and he bumped at the next set of swing doors. Sweat seeped through his palms. Spouts of boiling steam greeted him as he pushed the trolley between the narrow worktops and the wheels began to bump against the groves of the tiled floor. He found his way to a corridor and the smell of warm food lingered until he reached the lobby. The wheels span away from him and he straightened up as he crossed the marble floor. With his head bowed low Stefan advanced toward the elevator shaft, watching the two guards with the tip of his stare. A hand stopped him going any further.
‘You are an employee of the hotel?’