Final Mission: Zion - A World War 2 Thriller

by Chuck Driskell

  “Who did?”

  “The Nazis, but I don’t know specifically who. Jacob hardly ever divulged particulars. He knew the heat was on, but wanted to complete his business regardless. He’d just moved the children to their final hiding location when he was killed.”

  “What exactly happened?”

  “He died in an explosion. After the fact, the authorities claimed he was a twisted Jewish martyr, killing good Germans by blowing himself up.” The doctor shook his head. “It was, of course, a lie. Madeline saw the explosion, but she won’t talk about it.”

  “Did anyone die with him?”

  “Yes. Two women, prostitutes, and a German Army colonel, Krausse. Krausse was working with us, helping Jacob with the particulars—for money, of course. And the prostitutes were Krausse’s, but I don’t need to tell you that.” Kraabe sipped his tea. “And that’s really all I know.”

  “Do you have any remote idea where the children are?”

  Kraabe’s smile was humorless. “If I did, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Madeline was surprised that I didn’t know.”

  “She’s grieving,” Kraabe replied. “I’ve tried not to weight her down with more worry.”

  Neil pulled the tattered envelope from inside the jacket of his coat. He slid the single sheet of paper out, pinching it between his fingers. “This was from Jakey. There was a second page, but it wasn’t sent. I was hoping that you, or someone here, held it back to ensure that I would come.”

  Kraabe slowly shook his head back and forth, eyes closed. “There was never a second page.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I broke the seal before she ever saw it,” Kraabe answered.

  “And there was no second page? Are you sure?”

  Kraabe leaned forward, placing his cup in a saucer. “Jacob planned it this way. Right now we’re likely doing exactly as he hoped.”

  “Why didn’t he tell you where the children are?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. First, he was killed before he could tell me. And, second, I’m not sure Jacob would have trusted me, or anyone, with that information.”

  “So by keeping it a secret, he protected their lives.”

  “Presumably,” the doctor said. “Assuming you can find them.”

  “But why would he have risked all those children on the hope that I would come? If I’d have decided not to come, wouldn’t they die?”

  The doctor frowned. “I don’t know what might happen. My best guess is they’ll run out of food and reveal themselves. There still might be hope at that point, but not much.”

  “What will the Nazis do if they find them?”

  “That’s hard to say. But it won’t be good,” Kraabe said, his face saying more than his words.

  Neil stared at the note, finally folding it and replacing it in his pocket. “Tell me about Jakey’s contacts here.”

  Kraabe held his tea and cocked his head. “The German military are a funny group. Stoic. And unlike what most people outside of this area think, they’re quite different from my Austrian brethren.” He took a sip, still staring off into the distance. “They don’t do business with just anyone. They have to know you first. Believe it or not, despite what’s going on right now, Germans can be generous, brilliant and funny. But the outer veneer they carry is sometimes that of a sheet of ice—especially since the Nazis took over.”

  Neil gulped his tea and habitually reached for the cigarettes, catching himself and putting his hands on his woolen pants. He pushed the powerful craving from his mind and leaned forward. “But where do I start, and who do I start with?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. Jacob had everything under control before the explosion. Now, the local commanders have all changed.”

  “Do you know them?” Neil asked.

  “Yes, I do. The German officers do not trust their own medical corps, so they bully their way into my office when they’re sick or injured, usually from a drunken accident or a venereal disease. The senior man, the one who replaced Krausse, arrived three weeks ago. His name is Cleebron,” Krausse said, waving his hand as if shooing a gnat. “He’s nothing—a paper tiger. You’ll need to meet his executive officer, Falkenberg. He’s the one actually running the show. In any other time and circumstance, I would like to study the man a bit. I do not make him as a true Nazi, but rather a skilled actor.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, let’s just say that my friend Sigmund Freud, the famed neurologist and psychotherapist, would love to spend a day or two with Oberst Falkenberg.”

  Neil had no idea what Kraabe was trying to say. “Please stop speaking in riddles. What is Falkenberg like?”

  “Falkenberg loves himself, Dieter. He loves his money. His power. And his own looks. That is what gives him satisfaction, and only the things that can feed those three ideals mean a damn to him. Understand?”

  “Then he’s ripe for a bribe.”

  Doctor Kraabe placed the cup into the saucer and slid it onto the silver service. “I must say I love the American passion for simplicity.”

  Neil knew a thinly veiled insult when he heard one, but he took it in stride. He leaned back in his own chair and twirled his hand for Kraabe to go on.

  “You’re right, Dieter, he is the perfect mark, as you might say. But it’s those around him who may create problems for you. Especially a man named Anton Aying. He has the polizei, the Burgermeister and the business leaders all in his pocket.”

  “Who is Aying?” Neil asked.

  “He’s the top local Schutzstaffel…the SS. Are you surprised that he holds the mantle of power?”

  Neil dipped his head for a moment before telling Kraabe what had happened yesterday.

  Frowning, Kraabe asked, “Are you certain there were no witnesses?”

  “One can never be certain, but I don’t believe there were.”

  “And the SS who saw you in town?”

  “Was an officer. It wasn’t the same man I killed.”

  “Could the officer describe you?”

  “My clothes were filthy. My dog was next to me. I had a beard. I was exhausted. I looked like a vagrant.”

  “And you think the officer sent the SS on the motorcycle?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure he wasn’t the same man?”

  “Positive.”

  “Then you must change your appearance to the point that the first man cannot identify you. As far as the missing SS, I wouldn’t worry too much unless the body is found. And I’ll know if it is. Otherwise, they’ll consider him a deserter.” Kraabe seemed satisfied. “Down here on the south end of the Reich, desertion has become a common theme. Lots of Germans making their way to the Mediterranean.”

  “I’ll cut my hair and color it. With decent clothes and erect posture, I should look nothing like the laggard who loped through town after a night in the Alps.”

  “I hope that’ll be enough.”

  Neil leaned forward. “Tell me more about the SS commander, Aying.”

  “Standartenführer Anton Aying. Very polished, very dangerous. I’ve heard he’s insatiable in regard to women. He, like Falkenberg, enjoys the finer things in life. And it’s rumored he even has Adolf Hitler’s ear, and has visited him on numerous occasions at his retreat above Berchtesgaden.”

  “Interesting.”

  “There’s one very important thing to note,” Kraabe said, lifting his crooked finger. “Aying and Falkenberg despise one another. We’re talking genuine hate. Supposedly, it goes back many years to wherever they served in Germany—an incident occurred.”

  Madeline reappeared. “Have you two finished talking about what happened?”

  “We have,” Kraabe answered.

  Neil stood. “May I please see the room?”

  “Our room?” Madeline asked.

  Neil nodded. “I’d like to spend some time in there, alone, if you don’t mind.”

  Madeline swallowed but nodded. Her hand began to nervously mass
age her neck.

  Kraabe led Neil through the large home, the wooden floors creaking under their weight. In the kitchen, the doctor led him into a large pantry. He moved several cans, depressing an unseen trigger embedded in the wall. The entire wall swiveled backward to reveal a narrow stairwell, leading downward. A solitary light bulb was already lit, marking the passage.

  “Down the stairs is a wine cellar. The back rack of wine lifts up a notch, then pull it to you. The room is behind it.”

  Neil grinned ruefully, thinking about Cleveland Mixton’s underground hideaway in Arizona. Jakey had thought it out, helping Cleveland engineer it, fastidiously carving every corner into the hard rock of the Sonoran desert. This seemed very similar.

  “Jakey built all of this, didn’t he?”

  Kraabe’s wan smile provided the confirmation.

  Neil walked down into the chilly cellar. Just as the doctor promised, the sturdy wooden wine rack lifted up and, when pulled, revealed the room. It was just large enough to be comfortable, running about fifteen feet on all sides. Neil pulled the chain on a bedside lamp, illuminating the wood-paneled room in amber.

  The bed was a single, covered neatly in a quilt. While it probably pained her, Neil assumed Madeline still slept down here on the nights when she wasn’t at the cottage. Beside the bed, on one side, was a magazine. On the side closest to Neil was a hardcover book, written in Hebrew. Neil touched it, dragging his fingers over it. On the far wall was a bookshelf. He looked at the titles, stopping at the large picture book of Paris. He remembered when Jakey purchased it, on their way home from the last trip they’d ever taken together, the one just before Neil and Emilee had been married.

  Neil tugged the book out and recalled the heady conversations between him and his friend over the course of their Parisian journey. They’d talked on the train across the United States. Conversed on the voyage over the Atlantic. Told stories as they ambled the streets of every arrondissement in Paris. The one-month holiday had been nothing more than a thirty-day chat and neither man grew weary of it. True best friends. Neil dipped his head, feeling the grief coming on.

  There’s no time for that crap right now, Barkie. Get your ass in gear and find those kids. It’s all up to you now. They’re waiting…

  It was as if Jakey stood in the room with Neil. The clear voice. The note of humor even in the face of calamity. The encouragement. Bolstered by his friend’s spirit, Neil began by studying every item in the room.

  He emerged an hour later, no wiser about the location of the children.

  “Go back home,” Kraabe instructed. “We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

  “I don’t want to lounge around while those children are stuck somewhere,” Neil countered.

  “You must rest your mind. You’ve been through a great deal,” the doctor replied. “Reflect on your friend. Remember him. Perhaps if Madeline is up to it, the two of you can talk about him. Doing so may trigger an idea that will lead us to the children.”

  Dejected, Neil and Madeline departed for the cottage soon after.

  ~~~

  Hours later, as the vestiges of the day’s direct sunshine radiated onto the backyard of the cottage, Neil sat alone at the yard’s edge. In front of him, after a precipitous drop-off, was a broad vista of blue Austrian sky, supported by the lush green valley and the shimmering aqua of the River Sill. Next to Neil was a stone fire pit he’d erected after changing into work clothes, built with rounded stones from the edge of the yard. He’d built the fire two hours before, allowing it to blaze in order to burn off any moss and algae from the rocks. Now the fire and coals were low, providing smooth, even heat to the pork tenderloin that was stretched across the oiled grate, slow-cooking a foot over the low flame.

  Neil had found several books in the cottage, and was reading one about the 1866 Austro-Prussian War. He’d never studied Austria, and had no idea of how many lands the Austro-Hungarian Empire had once controlled. Regardless, his mind wasn’t fully engaged in the reading.

  Putting his finger on his page and closing the book, he sipped from his glass of water and drank in the view, his thoughts drifting to the children who were ostensibly hidden nearby. There was still time to find them—or so everyone had said. Despite all the assurances, Neil still felt the suffocating fear that something could have gone wrong. What if they had miscalculated their food and water? What if sickness had set in? Neil could think of dozens of potential problems associated with hiding human beings in the same location.

  To find them, he needed to learn more about Jakey’s time here. To do that, he’d have to blend in. That’s what he was working on.

  Around the base of the lawn chair were the trimmings of his shaggy black hair. Madeline had cut it for him and was in the house looking for a pair of small scissors to trim around his ears. Once that was done, she would paint light brown hair dye over his ears and bangs, attempting to lighten his dark hair. He ran his hand through his greatly shortened hair, feeling better already, though a cigarette would brighten his mood threefold.

  Neil leaned his head back in the sun’s radiance. The temperature at this altitude was chilly, and would probably approach freezing after sunset. But for now the low and unabated western sun was powerful, warming his face and his clothing as he sat facing its setting path. And below the sun, the view was magnificent. The cottage sat at least a thousand feet over the valley. On both sides, in the distance, were majestic Alpine peaks, their tips shimmering with quicksilver from the blown snowcap. The yard was quiet, so quiet that occasionally an early autumn leaf would fall in the surrounding trees and Neil could hear it touching branches on its journey to the earth. He closed his eyes and allowed his hearing to become more acute, the way he’d been taught long ago. Distant birds could be heard, singing their beautiful melodies. The fence gate at the driveway gently creaked, pressed inward by the occasional cool breeze. Neil took another sip of water and enjoyed the trance. He welcomed it.

  His search of Jakey’s quarters had been fruitless. Tomorrow he would make an appearance in public, speaking to the men Kraabe had told him about, men who Jakey consorted with, men who might have another clue about the children’s whereabouts.

  Men who might very well want to kill Neil.

  The other burgeoning mission, this one Neil’s own, was to find Jakey Herman’s killer, to get a confession, and then avenge Jakey. Violently. Whoever he was, the bastard was going to get a triple dose, for Jakey, for Emilee, and for Neil’s unborn son.

  Neil planned to savor his revenge.

  His eyes were still closed as he allowed his head to loll backward. He could almost fall asleep.

  Madeline should be back by now.

  Neil needed to get this haircut finished so he could tend to the cooking meat. Where is she?

  “Neil?”

  About time. He opened his eyes. The sun’s glare made Madeline a shadow as she stood in front of him. He put his forearm in a position to shade his eyes and blinked rapidly.

  “We need to hurry. The meat’s just about done,” he said, allowing the empty glass to fall to the grass as he sat up and brushed loose hair from his shoulders. “Burned pork isn’t very good.”

  “Neil, it’s me.”

  He stood so quickly that a jag of lightning pain, the type from weeks before, shot through his side. In front of him, lit by the sun, stray hairs flitted about in the afternoon breeze. But once he moved to his left, the sun was no longer directly in his eyes. Neil could now see clearly.

  He couldn’t believe who he was seeing. Standing before him was none other than Gabi Heinz.

  PART THREE

  The Aliyah

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Though this trip had contained a number of bombshells, Neil hadn’t yet received a jolt such as this one. The jolt, of course, had been provided by Gabi Heinz. She stood before him, a hopeful expression on her face as she clutched her hands in front of her.

  “Gabi,” he said, breathless, futilely attempting to get his thoug
hts in order. “Gabi, what the hell are you doing here?”

  She moistened her lips and took a half step in his direction. “I’m here for you.”

  “But how did you know where to find me?”

  “After your surgery, while you slept, I went through your things. Rude, I know, but it’s the truth. I found the waterlogged papers with this address, and I found the note from your friend. I knew this was where you were coming. I knew it all along.”

  Neil looked at her the way he might look at a child who had misbehaved, but had shown incredible intelligence in doing so. “Gabi…Gabi…what will your mother think? She’s probably sick with worry.”

  “She urged me to come.”

  Neil cocked his head. “Say that again.”

  “Mama loved you.” Gabi took a step closer. “Her heart’s been broken for so many years that she wanted me to have something she’s been missing.” Gabi appeared on the verge of tears, touching the back of her finger under her nose before continuing. “And after you left, we sat up very late, and I told her my feelings for you and told her I knew where you were going.”

  “And?” Neil asked, feeling as if his racing heart might explode at any moment.

  “And she told me to come to you, and to tell you how I feel.”

  It was the way she said the last part: passionately—lustily. Neil’s lips parted as he drank in her beauty. He could feel his own excitement coursing through his body as he stood there, dumbfounded by her simple beauty of flushed cheeks and large, desiring eyes.

  The back door slammed. Neil’s trance shattered like thin glass. He turned his head. It only took a few seconds for Madeline to cross the yard, her face cloudy as she arrived with scissors in each hand.