by APC APC
#
Heydrich lit another cigarette and looked through the two-way glass at what was left of his chauffeur. He still found it hard to believe that after three years, Schliemann had betrayed him. But every man had his price, and Schliemann had a fondness for shiny things.
Colonel Hausenberg entered the steel door looking frustrated and weary. Both of the SS Wolf Corps behind him were rubbing their bloody knuckles.
“So, who paid him off? Was it Canaris?” Heydrich asked impatiently.
Hausenberg sighed. “He didn’t say.”
“He didn’t say?”
The colonel shook his head and flopped down on the steel chair next to Heydrich. “Do you mind?” He gestured for a cigarette.
“I’m sorry, Colonel. I’m fresh out. Now tell me what he did say.”
Hausenberg groaned. “He kept babbling about some doctor.”
“A doctor?”
“And how Kessler wanted wine.”
“This doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. But we already know he’s a thief.”
“A thief, not a traitor. Why did he kill two guards?”
Hausenberg threw up his arms. “He probably didn’t want to get caught. He was drunk. What can I tell you? My guess is nobody paid him off. He was after loot and Kessler just happened to be at the right place at the right time. Now does anybody have a blasted cigarette?” He looked at his two soldiers, but they just shrugged.
Heydrich rubbed the stubble on his chin. Perhaps Kessler was too good to be true. Capturing Schliemann. Escaping from the British. And what was he doing in that Jewish ghetto? He said he was trying to reach the Reichsfuhrer, but something just didn’t add up. There were numbers missing from the equation, important numbers. Heydrich pulled a cigarette out of his picket and handed it to the beleaguered colonel.
“Oh, thank you, my obergruppenfuhrer. Found one, did you?”
“Colonel, I have a job for you.”
“Another job? How lucky I am.”
Heydrich ignored the sarcasm. The colonel was tired, and although he enjoyed his work, Schliemann had been a tough nut to crack. “I want you to locate the residents of that Jewish shack where Kessler was picked up.”
“The Jacobs? We already checked them out. The father was some kind of engineer in Amsterdam. But they were already evacuated.”
“Yes, I know. I signed the order. I wanted to make sure I scooped up all of the admiral’s contacts. Canaris has eyes everywhere. I needed a big net. But now I need to know where they’ve gone and who they are.”
“Westerbork,” the colonel said off the top of his head, taking another long drag of his cigarette.
“And then where.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Bergen-Belsen maybe, or the Harz Mountains. There’s a doctor at Dora-Mittelbau, an associate of Doctor Mengele in Auschwitz. He might have snapped them up for his medical experiments, the girls anyways. He likes girls.”
“And the men?”
“I don’t know. I can send them anywhere you like, but what does it matter? They’re just Jews.”
“Never mind that. You say the father was an engineer?” Heydrich rubbed at his stubble again. It bothered him. He liked to keep his face clean-shaven at all times, but he’d been so busy of late.
“Do you want me to bring them in for questioning?” The colonel looked at his beefy SS troopers.
“No, I don’t think so. The admiral might get spooked. Have him transferred to Peenemunde for the time being. We’ll wait for someone to attempt contact.”
“And him?” Hausenberg nodded over his shoulder at the bleeding man in the other room.
“Release him, I guess.”
The colonel shook his head.
“You disapprove? But I though you said he was innocent . . . of treason at least. I wouldn’t want to waste a good killer like Schliemann over something as frivolous as petty theft and murder.”
“We’ve been interrogating him for nine hours straight. He’s lost an eye and permanent use of his right arm. He won’t be much use to you as a killer, but he’s not likely to forget what you’ve done to him.”
Heydrich looked at the broken sergeant and sighed. “Make it quick.”
The colonel nodded, taking one last drag on his cigarette.
