by J. R. Rain
I shook my head, and looked sheepish. After all, Hannah and I had made a rather loud and regrettable show of things the night before. “No. We are on a mission of sorts.”
“Something involving the Nazis?”
I thought of Adolf Hitler and the possibility of him being alive. “You could say that.”
“Then I will not ask any further.” He looked out of the window at the mist-covered mountains. He nodded to himself, then looked back at me. “If your mission does have something to do with Nazis—and mind you, it pains me to say this—you would do well to ask our Jewish friends for help.”
Truthfully, I had considered it, and merely nodded.
***
Later that afternoon, after the Baron von Duba and his wife left the train in Vienna, I sought out Isaac Goldstein and his men.
To say the initial meeting was awkward would be an understatement, but soon enough, we had found common ground. And that common ground was our mutual hate of Nazis.
His compatriots were Joshua Hassan and Michael Lauder—also from New York, and both of whom I had roughed up. I gave them both a heartfelt apology and bought them a round or two of drinks. In no time flat, we were relaying war stories. I caught Hannah rolling her eyes in the background. I shrugged and knocked back another shot of Jameson. I needed allies on that mission, and there, on that very train, were three dedicated men. Whether or not I approved of their tactics was another story.
***
The three Nazi hunters assisted my surveillance.
Indeed, as the train continued on toward Budapest, all of us kept an eye out for the thief I could only loosely describe. Hannah, meanwhile, kept the book and journal safe on her person; more accurately within a handbag, which she clutched for dear life. And in her father’s case, it was no idle saying. His very life might have been dependent upon Hannah and me decoding the information contained within the book and the journal.
Later, as evening wore on into night, the five of us sat down to dinner—that is, Hannah, me and the three Nazi hunters. Hannah was particularly interested in how the new State of Israel had come to be. I found the new state fascinating to consider, as there were holy sites sacred to Jews, Christians and Muslims all over the old Palestine Mandate. Surely, it would be a source of contention for decades to come. Perhaps, even, forever. Anyway, Hannah was most interested in the artwork within the holy sites. It turned out that the fellow who had felt the brunt force of my elbow—and who now sported a swollen and packed nose—Joshua Hassan, had been raised in a family of art dealers. His parents had owned a gallery in New York and he had become a specialist in Jewish art and religious symbolism.
Toward dinnertime, the train trundled into Budapest, where there was a long break again. That time was spent looking for the Nazi thief. With no luck, Hannah and I retired to our new compartment. Goldstein had promised one of his group would keep watch over us at all times. Obviously, I hadn’t shared the full extent of our mission, but he knew it was something important.
Hannah made no secret of her intentions at that time. As soon as we were alone, she fell onto my lips. Again, I was taken aback by her forwardness. But if I had wanted to stop her, all thought of it went out the window as soon as I lay my hand on the small of her back. I wanted her, which was all I could think about, Hitler be damned.
She took off her blouse and dropped her skirt before I even had time to begin undressing. She pulled me with her onto the bed. Our lovemaking was intense, with a rapture I had never known...
After lounging together for an hour or so, I plucked the books from her bag and began to read again. Hannah lay next to me, her head resting on my chest, softly stroking the hair on my flat belly.
“Read it aloud,” she said. “Pretty please.”
“Okay.” I took a moment to find an appropriate spot to read. “‘The Lance of the Emperor was carried to Rome to bring victory. Shortly, General Belisarius deposed the pope on the orders of the empress. Saint Justinian supported the action, and afterward, procured the spear from the general. It is said that God punished Constantinople for the crimes against the Pope and the heresy of the Empress Theodora. Not ten years later, the Lord sent a great plague to ravage the city and its surroundings. The Emperor Justinian carried the lance with him often; in particular, during the games in the circus. But after the plague, nobody saw the Emperor’s greatest treasure again.’”
Hannah turned her face toward mine. “Why did it disappear?”
I shrugged. “I suppose the Emperor needed it to keep morale up in the city during the plague, but after that, it served little purpose. After all, if one doesn’t possess the ambition to rule the world...”
“Then, it’s just another spear.”
I nodded, and then shrugged. “The spear doesn’t supply the ambition.”
“It is a means to an end,” she concluded.
“My guess,” I said, “is that he either hid it from others, or...”
“It was stolen.”
I shrugged again. “Let’s hope not. It is much harder to find stolen relics.”
She pushed away the books and reached for the light switch, clicking it off. In the dark, I dropped the books to the floor and we kissed. Within an hour, we were asleep. The train crossed into Yugoslavia during the night and rambled on to Belgrade. Meanwhile, we slept soundly. Hannah lay in my arms, her head resting on my arm. We held hands in the dark, snuggling under the blanket. The world was quiet. Joshua Hassan stood watch outside the door and nothing bad could happen. Unless, of course, he wanted it to happen. Even then, my free hand lay comfortingly against the stock of my rifle. I was not without options.
The train rode along the banks of the Danube and everything was well. That is, until just outside a city called Novi Sad, when the window suddenly slid open and a pair of dark boots and trousers appeared in its place. Trousers and boots that now swung through the open window and into our compartment. I also happened to catch the glint of moonlight on gun metal. Great.
I watched the figure creep toward the books… knowing I would have to do something, and wishing like hell that I wasn’t stark naked under the sheets.
Chapter Eight
I timed my kick—that is, my naked kick—perfectly.
The pistol promptly flew sideways and the intruder slammed nicely into the nearby wall. It was at about that time that Hannah screamed. She had a sharp, piercing scream that almost made me want to scream, too. Instead, I leaped from the bed, heaving my right fist, and catching our intruder on the jaw. Admittedly, it wasn’t one of my better punches, but it should have been enough to stun him. Quite the opposite, the punch only seemed to make him mad. He growled and lashed out with a punch of his own. I saw it flashing in the moonlight in time to avoid most of it, although the bastard did clip me on the cheekbone.
Ducking, I drove my shoulder into the man’s stomach, and we grappled like that for what seemed like a few minutes, although, in reality, it probably had been no more than a few seconds. The man swore in German. No surprise there. I shoved my knee into his groin, and he swore again, that time, with more color added.
Next, I heard Joshua Hassan banging on the door, shouting at us, demanding to know what was going on. He could demand all he wanted. I presently had a big and rather filthy hand pressed against my mouth and nose. I also heard Hannah shuffling nearby, surely looking for something with which to help me.
“The rifle,” I grunted. “The rifle!”
But my words were mostly reduced to harsh and grating grunts. Meanwhile, the German slammed me into the hand-wash basin. That hurt like hell, and the porcelain broke, driving shards into my back. Fortunately, when he moved in on me, I managed to drive my knee into his gut. This time the German doubled over long enough for me to slam my elbow down upon the man’s neck. But the man still didn’t go down. Instead, he drove his fists forward in short blows that might have caused some internal damage to yours truly. His meaty fists drove me back against the broken basin again. And again, more shar
ds punctured my flesh. I was seriously beginning to hate that basin.
Admittedly, I was having a hard time staying focused, and things were getting a bit blurry, when I saw two things at once: the big German raised his big fist, and a shadow rose behind him.
Next, I heard a sickening thud, and I’m happy to report that it had been the German doing the thudding, not yours truly.
From what I could discern in the dimness, Hannah had swung the rifle’s heavy wooden stock into the back of the German’s head. The man staggered but still did not go down. They make them big and strong in the Fatherland. Next, he slammed his wide fist into my jaw with enough force to make me want to whimper. As I slid to my backside, I watched him turn around and advance on Hannah.
Well, I couldn’t have that.
Despite my bruised and battered body, I launched myself forward to tackle the German. I threw my weight into the back of his knees and finally brought the bastard down. As the German fell, he stumbled forward, slamming into the window. The blow broke the glass and the German went through the whole damn thing. How that happened, I didn’t know. One moment I was tackling him, and the next, he was halfway out the window. At any rate, I held onto the man’s legs, though the draft was stronger than me. The man flailed, and I felt myself being pulled along, too. I desperately wanted to save the man—at least long enough to find out why he had followed us—so I held on. As we passed a train coming the other way, well, suffice it to say, the German didn’t make it.
Hannah was screaming. I might have been screaming, too, quite frankly. That had all been rather traumatic. A bang behind us was soon followed by Hassan pulling me back inside. The shattered glass tore at my flesh and I was in, admittedly, terrible pain.
Sobbing in panic, Hannah fell around my neck as I lay on the floor. Women.
Joshua Hassan pulled the sheets from the bed and ripped them up, and I joined him in digging the glass out of my side and thighs. We used my folding jackknife and liberal amounts of whiskey, most of which had ended up in my mouth, somehow. Then I allowed Hannah and him to use the non-bloodied strips to bind the wounds.
Goldstein and Lauder showed up with the conductor. Hannah had retrieved her nightgown once I was safely inside the compartment again, and Goldstein picked up her robe and threw it over her shoulders, then covered me in a blanket.
“No use you catching your death of cold, as well,” he muttered.
The conductor unlocked another compartment nearby. Lauder and Hassan helped me to my feet and then, to the new compartment, and over to the bed. Hannah followed after retrieving her father’s journal and the book, revealing to me that she had stashed both inside her robe.
“You two are not good for the decor, I must say,” the conductor said, wryly. “We’re going to run out of compartments. And sheets.” In spite of his joke, he appeared on edge after what had just happened. “I will check whether there is a doctor on board.”
“How long until Belgrade?” I asked.
The conductor checked his watch. “Half an hour, sir.”
“Can you radio ahead? Maybe a doctor can come aboard there to stitch me up.”
“Yes, I’ll arrange that, sir.” The conductor turned on his heel and exited the compartment.
Goldstein squatted down next to the bed. “Perhaps you can tell me what that man was after?”
I scanned Goldstein’s face, finally reckoning I could trust him with our secret. After all, his partners had saved my life.
“We have something they want.”
“Which is?”
“A journal.”
Hannah opened her mouth to protest, but I held up a bandaged hand, letting her know it was okay. At least, I hoped like hell that it was okay. Despite their bluster and penchant for drama, the three Nazi hunters seemed like good fellows.
Goldstein frowned. “What kind of journal is it?”
“It contains possible clues to the location of an ancient relic,” I said.
“What kind of ancient relic?”
“A powerful one.”
“The Nazis are still looking for something this long after the war?” Goldstein looked puzzled. “Are they looking to establish a Fourth Reich with its help? There’s no one to lead them.”
I pursed my lips… but then relented. “There’s a man in Argentina who calls himself Aloïs Pölzl.”
It took Goldstein a moment to realize what the name meant—but then the realization hit him, and hit him hard. He veritably gasped. “Aloïs Hiedler and Klara Pölzl.”
I nodded, relieved I didn’t have to explain anything further.
“And this relic... how exactly will it help them?”
“If the legends are true, it could help them to fully re-establish themselves,” said Hannah.
“And you’re out to find whatever it is before they do. Correct?”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
The train arrived in Belgrade and a doctor was already waiting for me on the platform. The grumpy little man looked as though he had been dragged out of his bed for my benefit. He came on board and gave me a cursory look before decreeing I should be taken to a hospital. Of course, I obstinately refused. I needed to stay on the train. The doctor shrugged and said he would do his best, but could make no promises unless “the stubborn man” went to the hospital. In response, I growled that I would visit a hospital once we’d made it to Istanbul. The doctor snorted when he heard my rebuff translated. He voiced an unflattering opinion of Turkish doctors, which the conductor began to translate. I cut him off.
“I’m guessing he doesn’t have a high opinion of the Turks. His loss. I know them to be good people. For now, I just need him to stitch up my wounds.”
The doctor shrugged, then opened his bag with a wry smile. He said something to the conductor who also laughed.
“He says you must be a good soldier. Too many people, veterans or not, would be squealing like pigs right about now.”
“The night is still young,” I said.
Both Lauder and Hassan grinned. The two veterans knew the off-color humor of soldiers and appreciated my sarcasm and irony.
Hannah was intrigued, I could see that. More than once, I caught her studying me, no doubt, trying to figure out who I was and what I was all about. Good luck with that. I was a work in progress, and, quite frankly, still finding my way in the world after the World War II. I knew that I fought for what I felt was right, and I wasn’t easily intimidated. I knew also, that I would fight to the death. I enjoyed finer things, but equally enjoyed mucking about in the outback. Anyway, she liked me—that much I could see. I could tell from the look in her eyes that her affections toward me were deepening. That wasn’t a bad thing. No, not at all. To have a woman look at you like that is, well, heavenly...
Meanwhile, the doctor had sterilized his hands with a bit of alcohol and palpated the wounds. He used a pair of tweezers to pull some small remnants of glass from the abdominal wound and then pulled out a needle and suture. He poured some alcohol onto a piece of gauze and dabbed the wound. I might have issued a low, guttural growl or two. With deft hands, the doctor stitched the wound and moved on to the wounds in my thigh. The conductor looked at his watch and said something about the time to the doctor, who nodded and quickly bandaged up the wounds. Once finished, he said something to the conductor before running through the corridor and jumping onto the platform. The chief conductor blew his whistle, then turned to me and translated the doctor’s parting words.
“He said the wounds are clean, but you should not move too much. The stitches can come out in a week, or whenever the wounds are healed enough. You should rest before you let some Turk cut you up.”
I gave a snort of laughter at the last remark, but then grimaced as I sat up a bit straighter. Hannah sat down on the edge of the bed. She ran a finger over the bandage on my abdomen. She then touched the series of bruises on my body before leaning down to kiss my lips. I let out another moan, a softer moan. She pulled away and looked at me in surprise.
When they were gone, Hannah disrobed again, gently wrapped herself around my less-injured side and settled in for the night.
***
In the morning, we were awakened by the steward’s knock for breakfast.
We were close to Sofia now and knew we’d arrive in Istanbul that afternoon. Hannah seemed sad, perhaps knowing the little bubble we had created was not to last. She helped me dress and we joined the three Israelis for breakfast.
At lunchtime, we pulled into the Sirkeci Terminal in the heart of Istanbul. Hannah marveled at the building, as the architecture was the sort of thing she lived for. Though not her profession, she delighted in the creativity and the colors of the structure.
I didn’t have time to admire the building. Instead, I stuffed the rifle and derringer back into my duffel and hung the revolver on my cross-belt, making sure I could hide the weapon under my waistcoat. After what had happened on the train, I decided not to go without my trusted Enfield. I grunted as I heaved the duffel bag onto my aching back and limped onto the platform.
Hannah walked by my side, trailing her suitcase as I led the way to a nearby hotel. At the desk, I gave the name of Mr. and Mrs. John Smith and we received a suite of rooms on the third floor of the building. A porter carried Hannah’s suitcase as we went up. The rooms were big and luxurious and Hannah looked around with an enraptured smile, marveling at the integration of Eastern style combined with Western comfort. I might have shared her interest any other day, but my pain made it impossible. I dropped my bag and collapsed on the bed. Exhausted and in mild agony, all I wanted to do was rest. The mission’s completion would have to wait for a nap or two.
Fortunately, Hannah seemed to understand. She walked over to the bed and lovingly kissed my forehead. Then she sat at the small table by the big window, where she picked up her father’s personal journal and began reading through it aloud. The words brought a comforting distraction.
