Hidden Depths

by Ally Rose

  ‘Relax and leave your hands alone,’ Martha said, softly squeezing them. ‘We’ll have a lie-in at Gertrude’s house tomorrow.’

  Felix kissed her and smiled at the thought.

  ‘Oh, and I’ve some news for you,’ Martha began. ‘I’ve just found out, there’s a seven-week, foreign exchange trip to England soon with my school. It’ll really help my English and you can come and visit me for the last week, I’ve already asked.’

  ‘When are you going?’

  ‘Mid October ‘til early December. I’ll miss you.’

  ‘I’ll miss you, too.’

  ‘We can phone and write. Please say you’ll come?’ Martha implored.

  Felix kissed her. ‘Of course I’ll visit you. Whereabouts in England?’

  ‘Brighton, by the sea.’

  After the weekend Martha returned home to Kopenick and Klaus and Ingrid asked Felix to stay with them at the cottage. He was more than happy to have the company because being alone with his tormented thoughts in Gertrude’s house was proving too difficult. When he was busy or with other people it was easier.

  ‘We made a lot of money out of the golf tournament,’ Klaus began. ‘We’d like you to have a car for your 18th birthday in the New Year.’

  Felix was surprised at their generosity. ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, you’ll be a man. It’s time you had your own bank account too.’

  ‘Onkel, thank you,’ Felix said, hugging Klaus.

  ‘You deserve it, lad. I imagine Martha will like to ride in a nice, new car. No one likes a Schwalbe in the middle of winter.’

  Ingrid came out of Axel’s room. ‘Felix, Axel’s asking for you.’

  Felix put his arms around Ingrid and kissed her. ‘Tante, thanks for the car.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll still ride your bike in the warmer months but I’ll worry less with you in a car,’ Ingrid told him.

  Felix went into the little boy’s room. Axel’s delight at seeing his Onkel was tangible and he jumped upright in his bed. ‘Fewix. Read me a story?’

  How could Felix resist?

  Axel fell asleep during his bedtime story. Felix kissed his nephew softly on his cheek and tucked him in. Tears welled in his eyes. At this moment, as he looked at this beautiful, innocent child, he realised that killing Horst to protect his family was the only choice he could have made. Felix decided he would no longer harbour regrets about Horst and his premature demise. He believed it was the children that mattered most in the world and they had the right to be loved and protected.

  Felix came back into the lounge. ‘He’s asleep.’

  ‘I haven’t asked you yet where you got those bruises?’ Ingrid questioned her nephew.

  Felix fobbed her off. ‘Boxing… I went to the gym with Carsten and I’d like to take up boxing. Do you think I could have a punch bag and a few weights? I could set up a mini gym in Das Kino.’

  ‘I don’t see why not, but it’ll spoil your good looks,’ Ingrid told him.

  ‘That’s what Martha said but I need to get fitter. Onkel, can I join your gun club.’

  Klaus was surprised. ‘OK, but you’ll need your own pistol.’

  ‘I’ve been practicing with yours, at targets in the woods.’

  Ingrid was unimpressed. ‘Felix! You can’t just take guns into the woods or you’ll have the police on our doorstep, you need a licence.’

  ‘You should have asked me,’ Klaus told him.

  ‘Sorry. You’re right, I should have asked.’

  ‘Well, all right, I’ll get another gun and you can have mine when we get you a licence. Did you hit your targets?’ Klaus asked.

  ‘Yes, I hit my target,’ Felix replied, thinking of Horst.

  ‘Your hands are sore again,’ Ingrid observed. ‘Everything all right with you and Martha?’

  ‘I’ve been a bit stressed lately,’ Felix replied. ‘Martha and me are fine. Do you know, she’s going to England next month on a school exchange? She’ll be gone seven weeks and I’m invited for the last week. I’ll need my own bank account, that’s for sure. I’m going to miss her.’

  ‘We’ll help you sort it out, lad, and seven weeks will go quickly. What will you do with all that free time?’ Klaus asked.

  ‘Onkel, I thought that as it’s the end of the tourist season at the lake I could have a little break from work and enrol in an English course, to be on a par with Martha and to be prepared for when I go to England.’

  ‘Good idea, but you’d have to go to a city for that, there’s not many language schools near us,’ Ingrid mused.

  ‘I thought I would go to one in Berlin, travel up in the mornings, do an afternoon course and return here at night,’ Felix suggested.

  Klaus nodded his approval. ‘Fine by me.’

  When Felix went to bed that night, all his thoughts seemed crystal clear. He would put Martha’s absence to good use and was free to plot his crimes and stalk his victims in their home environment. Flicking through Horst’s infamous diary, Felix began working out a plan. The die was cast; his course was set.

  Chapter Thirteen: Gunther

  GUNTHER SCHUKRAFFT WAS A small man of 40. He had never married and lived next door to his disabled, 60-year-old mother, Marlene, on a council estate, a plattenbauten in the suburbs of Leipzig. At Torgau, he was the warden who had supervised the running of the library, distributing the books to the children as well as being a fully-fledged Musketeer. After Torgau’s closure, his paedophilia went undiscovered and his crimes unpunished, and Gunther found work as senior librarian in his home town.

  Neighbours thought well of Gunther. After his father died 10 years ago he looked after his mother, who had developed multiple sclerosis. She was gradually losing her ability to walk and Gunther was her dutiful and only son. The locals had no inkling of Gunther’s past or private life because he had few friends. Apart from the Musketeers, he kept in touch with a few ex-Torgau colleagues and other paedophiles scattered around the country in a secret ring. His short trips away with the Musketeers raised few eyebrows as the explanation would be that he needed regular respite from looking after his wheelchair-bound mother, who was tended by professional carers during the day when he worked or when he went away. Gunther looked forward to his jaunts away: a few days of sexual abuse in a motor home with unsuspecting victims, shared with Horst and Harald.

  Marlene had not met any of Gunther’s friends and never suspected her son was anything other than a man who was shy with women. Gunther spoke about his friends occasionally and told her when he was going ‘fishing’ and ‘hunting’ with his ex-colleagues. She was always happy to have Gunther at home; he was a good son and she missed him when he went away. Their conversations after a trip away, usually followed the same pattern.

  ‘Did you have a good trip?’

  ‘Yes, Mutti.’

  ‘Where did you go this time?’

  ‘Rostock.’

  ‘Oh, lots of sea fishing then. What did you catch?’

  ‘Small fish. We fried them for supper in the motor home. Mutti, did you have a nice time?’

  ‘Yes. My carers are fine but it’s nice to have you home.’

  Gunther left home the same time every morning, driving to work on the other side of Leipzig. He returned at lunchtime to take his disabled mother for a walk in the park. He had no idea Felix, sporting a dark wig, was watching him, noting what time the library closed, which car Gunther drove and plotting his optimum form of attack. Once he had gathered enough information about his target’s daily routine, Felix returned to Leipzig with his Onkel’s gun.

  The crepuscular light on the fallen autumn leaves scattered in the streets turned them assorted shades of pink, orange and yellow. Children trampled on them and gathered them in colourful heaps to playfully throw into the air or at one another. To catch falling leaves was an autumnal pleasure children could enjoy as the days in October grew shorter and colder.

  Felix looked at his watch. 6 p.m. He wondered what Martha was doing in England and remembered
how wonderful she smelt when he kissed her goodbye a few weeks ago. It would be over a month before he saw Martha again and he missed her. Inside the library in Leipzig the lights were being turned off. The library doors opened and a few members of staff trickled out and dispersed, bidding their colleagues goodnight before disappearing into the night. Gunther was the last one out, locking up the library before his walk across a dimly lit pathway to a car park. The streets were empty as Felix lay in wait. He put on his balaclava and gloves and primed his gun.

  Click .

  Felix heard footsteps and quickly crouched down behind the Musketeer’s car. As Gunther approached, he delved in his pockets for the keys. Suddenly, he felt a gun pushed against his temple.

  ‘Don’t say a word, or I’ll blow your brains out,’ Felix instructed. ‘We’re going for a ride. Give me the keys!’

  Gunther wet himself. He had no choice other than to obey. He prayed someone would see what was going on with this masked man but there was no one in sight. Gunther fumbled with his car keys and passed them to the masked man.

  ‘My mother’s expecting me, she’s disabled. Please, what do you want with me?’

  ‘Schukrafft, your mother is of no concern to me.’

  Gunther found this shocking. ‘You know my name?’

  Felix swung out with the gun and hit Gunther on the head. He slumped to the ground and Felix bundled him into the back of the car, tying the Musketeer’s hands and feet with boat rope and covering his mouth with duct tape. Driving lessons had come in useful. Felix drove with ease to the banks of Muggelsee and this time parked near the north jetty. He hoped to repeat the same ending for Gunther as Horst, using similar methods.

  Gunther was stirring in the back as Felix ripped off the tape and dragged him to the water’s edge. ‘Let’s see how you like a darkened cellar, knee-deep in water,’ Felix said, menacingly.

  It was quiet and dark. The lights illuminating their evening came from the car headlamps and Felix’s torch.

  ‘My mother will be worried,’ Gunther pleaded.

  ‘Poor little mummy’s boy. Does your mother know the truth about you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Felix’s voice was cold and emphatic. ‘That you’re a sodomite.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Do you think your mother would still love you if she knew the truth about you?’

  ‘You’re mistaken. You’ve got the wrong man,’ Gunther informed him.

  Felix took out his boat knife. ‘I’m going to strip you. Stand still and don’t try anything clever or I’ll shove this knife up your arse!’ he barked. ‘And empty your pockets.’

  Gunther handed over his wallet and mobile phone whilst Felix slashed away at Gunther’s clothes until the Musketeer was left in just his underpants.

  ‘I’m just a librarian. Believe me, my disabled mother will be very worried about me by now.’

  ‘What’s your mother’s pet name for you?’

  ‘Gunty… Why?’

  ‘I’ll text her, tell her you’ll be home late.’

  Felix turned on the Musketeer’s mobile and texted the following to Gunther’s mother.

  ‘Mutti, gone for a drink with colleagues, don’t worry. Gunty.’

  The night air gave Gunther’s wiry frame goosebumps. ‘Who are you? What do you want from me?’

  ‘Scheisse! I don’t want anything! Don’t you get it? I’m taking something from you!’

  Gunther was afraid to know the answer. ‘What are you going to take from me?’

  Felix snarled. ‘You’ll see!’ Grabbing at a handful of hair, he began hacking chunks off.

  Gunther screamed.

  ‘Shut up!’ Felix snapped and pushed Gunther into the cold water, where he fell on his knees.

  ‘Please, don’t hurt me,’ he pleaded.

  Felix wrapped the hair cuttings in a tissue and placed it in his rucksack. He took out his Walkman radio cassette and switched on his recording of ‘Toreador’ from Bizet’s opera ‘Carmen’. No one was around and he turned up the music.

  ‘Allons! En garde! Allons ! Allons ! Ah !’

  ‘Dance!’ Felix barked. Gunther started to jig about on his knees in the cold, muddy water, dancing awkwardly. He felt small, pathetic and afraid. Felix watched him, smiling behind his balaclava as he picked up Gunther’s shredded clothes and shoved them into the boot of the car. He laughed and made a mock charge, like a bull at the quivering Gunther.

  ‘How’s it feel, Gunther? To be stripped of your dignity?’

  ‘Toreador, en garde! Toreador, Toreador… ’

  ‘I’m cold. Please stop!’ he cried.

  ‘Stand up!’ Felix bellowed.

  Gunther watched the man in the balaclava charge at him, back and forth like a raging bull, simultaneously waving his knife menacingly and somehow managed with his feet still bound to haul himself up before toppling down again.

  ‘No one cares. You and your Musketeers didn’t care about us kids at Torgau. Don’t expect any sympathy from me.’

  Gunther wet himself again. ‘Torgau? Were you one of my boys?’

  ‘Finally you confess!’ Felix bellowed. ‘I’ve got the scars on my ears to prove it, branded by you!’

  Gunther gulped out his words. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry you got caught, you mean…You’re not much of a Musketeer now. Did you think you’d get away with it, you immoral coward?’

  Felix ignored Gunther’s pleas and slashed the knife at Gunther’s ears. The Musketeer howled as his earlobes were ripped and the blood gushed.

  ‘Et songe bien, oui, songe en combattant, qu’un oeil noir te regarde… ’

  ‘How’s it feel to be branded?’ Felix shouted in Gunther’s ears.

  Gunther’s ears burned with pain. Stripped of his dignity, on his knees in cold water at the mercy of a madman, he was terrified. ‘I know what I did was wrong and I’m sorry.’

  ‘Et que l’amour, t’attend, Toreador, l’amour t’attend. ’

  ‘You’ve ruined lives,’ Felix told him, rinsing his knife in the water.

  ‘You can have all my savings, anything! Please, let me go,’ Gunther wailed.

  ‘I don’t want your blood money!’ Felix yelled and picked up his gun. ‘Your sense of remorse is touching. Horst had none.’

  ‘Horst?’ Gunther asked. ‘Horst Gwisdek?’ ‘That’s right, one of your fellow sodomites. Horst is lying at the bottom of this lake and that’s where you’re going to end up. That’s what I’m taking from you… your life! One less paedophile to destroy lives.’

  ‘No!’ Gunther screamed.

  Felix towered over Gunther. The hate inside him was so strong that he couldn’t bear to look at him any more. Hitting him on the back of the head with the gun, he dragged Gunther’s limp body to the car and threw him in the back. Before long Gunther’s eyes flickered and the monster stirred.

  ‘Mutti! Help. Someone, help me!’ was Gunther’s last, desperate cry.

  ‘Fic dich !’ Felix screamed in Gunther’s ear, giving him another whack with the gun.

  Felix turned off the music, tied Gunther’s hands to the door handle, bound his feet to the handle on the opposite side and locked the doors. He put on a wet suit and aqua shoes and opened the windows in the front so the car would fill with water and he had a means of escape. Then he drove the car off the end of the jetty at breakneck speed, hitting the water hard. The car began to sink and Felix climbed out with ease to repeat his ritual of dancing on top of the car roof before diving off and swimming in the cold, cleansing water, back to the jetty.

  Shining his torch over the water he double-checked that the deed was done. It had surprised him how easy it was to dispose of someone and how good he felt about it. No regrets. Felix had no bruises this time, not even a scratch – but he knew the third Musketeer wouldn’t be so easy.

  Dressing himself at the side of the lake, he got ready to leave. The next part of his plan was to contact the relatives with ne
ws that would hopefully throw them off track. Felix texted the following message to Gunther’s mother.

  ‘Dear Mutti,

  I have to get away. News is about to break, the police will come after me for what I did as a warden at Torgau. I sexually abused the kids. Tell no one. I have to lie low for now. I’m sorry.

  Your loving son, Gunty.’

  Felix sent the message and it registered a beep, successfully delivered. He quickly turned off the mobile, not wanting to receive any messages or calls from an anxious and frightened old lady in Leipzig. Triple-checking the crime scene for any clues he might have left, he departed the lake thinking it had all gone well and surprisingly to plan.

  As he walked along the dark, wooded pathway at the side of the lake towards the street lights of Kopenick, Felix decided there was no time to lose and would start stalking his third Musketeer immediately. With growing impatience, he looked forward to returning to normality at Motzen and get on with the rest of his life. A life with Martha.

  Two down, two to go, he told himself.

  Chapter Fourteen: Harald

  HARALD PLAUMANN WAS A married man in his mid 30s with two children: a boy of eight and a girl of six. A devoted husband and father, his wife had no idea he was a paedophile and would have vehemently refuted any suggestion that he was. As a young and impressionable warden at Torgau, Plaumann’s latent proclivities for under-age sex, predominantly with boys, were kindled and truly ignited under the influence of Horst Gwisdek.

  After Torgau’s closure, Harald got a job at Berlin’s Schonefeld Airport as a security guard and within two years became a deputy manager of the security team. He was regarded as an upstanding pillar of the community and moved his family with him, settling in a nearby village on the edge of the Spreewald. To outsiders, Harald seemed like a ‘normal’ person – a regular guy, tall and strong, raising a family and going to work, where he strutted around the airport like a puffed-out peacock, anyone or anything suspicious feeling the full force of his wrath. But he also kept in touch with his fellow Musketeers and enjoyed their depraved mini breaks in Horst’s motor home.

  Horst’s diary helped lead Felix to Harald’s home. At the crack of dawn, he parked his Schwalbe in an alley and began stalking his prey. Hidden between the large recycling bins he felt safe and protected and also had a prime view. Harald came out of his house wearing his uniform, with ‘Airport Security’ emblazoned on the back of his jacket. Following on his Schwalbe, Felix couldn’t keep up with Harald’s fast car but it seemed logical that the Musketeer was heading for Schonefeld airport, about 15 kilometres away. Felix parked at the nearest U-Bahn station, put on a dark wig and took the train to the airport.