Kat and Die Wolfsschanze

by Michael Beals

  “I’d like to be prepared. I know we’ve all got Lugers, but a couple of submachine guns might come in handy.”

  “Ever fired an MP40 from inside a car?” Dore remarked. “Apart from having no room, the noise would deafen us. Don’t worry. I’ve got grenades.”

  “Are you kidding!” Kat shrieked. “This car isn’t a tank. Get a couple of submachine guns. You can stick them out of the window if you’re worried about your ears.”

  Before Dore could react, Stewart opened the door. “Two enough?”

  “Two should be fine. Thanks, Harry.”

  Bringing back the weapons and giving one to Dore, Stewart settled back in the car. “We’re ready. You can drive on, Kat.”

  Pulling away, Kat held her speed at 40 mph, and it was soon apparent that there were at least six men at the checkpoint, not a great many guards, just enough to give them trouble. No vehicles blocked the road, but a temporary barrier was set up, and as they drew closer, two of the guards stepped out and held up their arms.

  Pulling up at the barrier, she wound down her window and handed the guard her papers. He was a tall, unsociable man in his late twenties. An MP40 slung over his shoulder, and he wore a pistol. The other guards wandered around, staring at the Bentley, and for a moment, she wondered if the car’s license plate was listed.

  The guards studied her papers and peered at her. “And the other papers?”

  “You mean the papers for my Commanding Officer?”

  “For everyone.”

  Reaching back, she collected everyone’s IDs and passed them through the window. “We’re in a hurry. If you don’t mind.”

  The guard studied the papers with a flashlight, frowning and peering into the car as he leafed through them. Walking around to the front of the car, he shone the flashlight on the license plate and ambled back to the window.

  “Your papers are not in order,” he said, scowling at her. “They’re out of date.”

  Affecting a bored look, she tutted. “Yes, yes, I know they are, we’ve been in Italy. Can you please stamp them?”

  Signaling the other guards, who immediately straightened, he took a step back. “Will you please get out of the car. I have to call Headquarters.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she snapped. “You’re questioning the authority of the SS?”

  “I’m following orders,” he barked. “Please get out of the car.”

  She felt Dore’s hand on her shoulder. “Do as he says, Kat. It’ll be much better out of the car.”

  She looked back at him. His lips pressed into a thin line, and when she looked at Stewart and Capetti, they were wearing similar scowls. Loosening her Luger, she glanced at Kelly and opened the door.

  “Fine,” she said, climbing out, “but you’re making a big mistake.”

  For a moment, the guard seemed to smile. His expression froze when Dore climbed out with his MP40, followed by a smiling Stewart with another machine pistol, both aimed at the guards.

  “Apologies for my fellow Officers,” she said, drawing her Luger. “We’ve been fighting the Resistance, and we don’t trust anyone. Please discard your weapons and show me your papers.”

  “My p…papers?” the guard stuttered.

  “Drop your weapons!” Kelly screamed. “That’s an order!”

  Only then did Kat see the manned machine gun on one of the Kübelwagens. Capetti killed him with a single shot. The guards leaped into action, diving for cover as they tried to unhook their rifles, but Dore and Stewart took them all out in a volley of gunfire, bullets pinging and whining as they ricocheted off the Kübelwagens, coils of smoke drifting in the still air. Only one guard remained, his trembling hand still holding their papers.

  “Sorry about that,” Kat said, smiling at the man. “Can’t be too careful these days. Did you say you have a radio?”

  The guard stared at her. He didn’t look quite as tall as he’d seemed. “It’s in the… radio wagon.”

  “Perfect. Thank you.” Then she shot him.

  “Why do you want the radio?” Kelly asked, holstering his gun. “You’re not seriously thinking of calling Fleming?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “He’s trying to kill us, Kat. He’s no better than the enemy.”

  “You don’t think it could have been a regular bombing mission?”

  “No, I bloody don’t. Anyway, now isn’t the time. We should get the hell out of here.”

  “He’s got a point,” Dore said. “It wouldn’t be good to hang around.”

  “Fine,” she said, picking up their IDs and climbing back in the car. “I’ll do it later. I’m sure Pernass can find us a radio.”

  As everyone got back in the car, Dore walked towards a stand of trees behind the guard’s hut. After a few seconds of silence, a shot rang out. Moments later, he returned, holstering his Luger as he climbed into the back.

  “Radio operator. He was calling for help.”

  “How d’you know? You don’t speak German.”

  “I recognize panic when I hear it.”

  CHAPTER 22

  It was 0500 when they entered the village of Brohl, a pretty little village situated on the banks of the river Brohlbach, with its characterful cottages and flower-filled gardens. As Kat drove, hunched over the Bentley’s steering wheel, everyone else slept.

  Pulling off the main road, she made her way up a narrow lane. There must be a farm in such a rural area, a farm that had a barn, a barn with clean straw and somewhere to hide the Bentley. Because in the next few miles they would reach Bonn, and the few Reichsmarks they possessed would not hotel the entire team.

  “Where are we?” Kelly croaked, still half asleep.

  “Near Bonn.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me? I’ll drive.”

  “You’ve only had a couple of hours. Go back to sleep.”

  “I’m awake now. Are you looking for a hotel?”

  “No, I’m not. We don’t have enough German money for a hotel. I’m looking for a barn.”

  “You’re kidding,” he said, sitting up. “We can’t sleep in a barn. We’re SS Officers. Word would spread like a disease.”

  “Take off your caps and jackets. I’ll think up a story for the farmer. If we pay him something, what can he tell people, that some soldiers slept in his barn? I’m sure they’ll be very interested,” she added sarcastically.

  “Well, if you’re looking for a barn, there’s one just over there.”

  Over to their right, nestled in the valley, a farmhouse came into view and, just beyond it, a large wooden barn. Turning into the first gateway, Kat nursed the Bentley up a rutted track, past a field of cows and into a muddy farmyard. On the bumpy surface, the others woke and weren’t very happy to hear that they might be sleeping in a barn.

  “It’s just for a few hours, guys. It won’t kill you. It’s better than sleeping in the car.” Pulling by an old well, she took off her jacket and looked around. The farm seemed deserted. As she climbed out, she saw an old man coming out of what looked like a milking shed. He wore rain boots, his sleeves were rolled up, and he stared at the Bentley as if he’d seen a ghost.

  “Good morning!” she called, walking over to him. When she explained what she needed, the farmer raised his eyebrows.

  “You want to sleep in my barn?”

  “Just for a few hours. We’ve driven from Vienna, and we’re exhausted.”

  The old man scratched his chin. “Well, if you really want to, but there’s no loose straw. You’d have to cut some of the bales.”

  “If you don’t mind. We’re happy to pay
you.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t have to pay me.”

  Kat winced. “Actually, we might have to. Do you have any food? We haven’t eaten for two days.”

  The farmer glanced at the house and scratched the back of his head. “As it happens, my wife spent most of last night cooking up a two-day supply of beef stew, but you have to pay her.”

  She felt her stomach rumble. She hadn’t had beef stew for over a year, and the very thought made her mouth water. “Beef stew with bread?”

  “Beef stew with potatoes,” he corrected her.

  “Oh my God, the men are going to love you. They’re starving.”

  Leaving the farmer to tell his wife, she went back to the car.

  “Beef stew?” Capetti repeated. “What is beef stew?”

  “Trust me, Sandro, you’re going to love it. If we settle ourselves into the barn, I’ll organize it.”

  They were cutting into bales of hay and making themselves at home when the farmer and his wife appeared in the doorway. They were carrying a large tureen, bowls, cutlery, and a tablecloth. Brushing hay from a trestle table, they spread the tablecloth and set out bowls. There were no chairs, so Stewart and Dore dragged hay bales over to the table. Just the smell of the stew made Kat’s stomach rumble. Not having eaten since they left Padova, she’d never felt so hungry. Squeezing onto a bale with Dore, she wolfed down the steaming stew in a matter of minutes. Afterward, she hauled herself up into the hayloft, nestled into a bed of hay and promptly fell asleep.

  Kat woke to the rumble of gunfire. Grabbing her jacket, she scrambled down the ladder. It was almost dark. She saw the men standing outside the barn, drinking coffee and gazing into the distance. Hearing the drone of aircraft, she looked up at the sky. Searchlights were waving back and forth, picking out what looked like Lancaster bombers, and anti-aircraft shells were exploding in the shafts of light. The horizon lit up with dozens of huge explosions. Bonn was under attack.

  “Are we sure you want to drive in that?” Kelly asked, suddenly seeing her.

  “Not out of choice. How long has it been going on?”

  “It just started.” Picking up a mug, he poured another coffee and handed it to her. “They’re probably bombing Cologne as well. You think we should wait?”

  “It’ll be over by the time we get there, and we should really reach Cologne tonight. We’ll be okay.”

  She wondered if Pernass watched the air raid from his yacht on the Rhine and if he was right about the river never being bombed. Could bombers be that accurate in the dark? They would soon find out. Bombing missions came in waves.

  Seeing the farmer standing there, she went over to him. “We’ll be leaving soon. Thank you for the food, it was wonderful.” Pulling out a wad of Reichsmarks, she stuffed them into his breast pocket. “Sorry it’s not more. Most of our money is in lire.”

  He glanced at her sharply. “You were in Italy?”

  “For a while.”

  “And that’s where you got the Bentley?”

  She frowned, remembering his look of shock when he saw the car. “As it happens. Why?”

  “I have a friend in Porretta Terme. His Bentley was confiscated by a German Oberst.”

  She almost laughed. What an incredibly small world it was. “Ya, well, we… borrowed it from the Oberst.”

  The farmer stared at her, and she wondered how he would react if he knew who they were. Not that it mattered. He’d probably be happy if he knew what they were planning. “Well, at least it’s still in one piece. Maybe he’ll get it back one day… when the war is over.”

  “Hopefully.” She looked at the horizon. It still glowed from dozens of fires, but the explosions stopped, and there were no more aircraft flying overhead. “We should go, guys!”

  Twenty minutes later, they entered the city of Bonn, although not much was left. Many of the buildings were still burning, rubble strewn across the road. There were no checkpoints, no troops, civilians were emerging from air raid shelters with a look of shock on their harrowed faces, and the few cars they could see were either smoldering wrecks, or ruined by falling masonry. Kelly drove slowly, navigating the Bentley through the rubble. There were no signposts to guide them. All he could do was follow his nose.

  Kat peered at the road ahead. “Find the river, Sam, and follow it. It goes all the way to Cologne.”

  “I know it does. Cologne isn’t very far from here, but how the hell are we going to find the Excelsior in the dark?”

  “Good question. How about we reach the center and steal a boat? It’s got to be a pretty big yacht, and there can’t be many of those around.”

  He laughed. “You’re turning me into a thief. First, it’s airplanes. Now it’s boats. Even the car’s stolen.”

  “Don’t blame me if we’ve become gypsies, blame Fleming. We might even be accused of treason.”

  “Treason?” he exclaimed, swerving to avoid a horse, cantering across the road. “We’re planning to kill Hitler. How can that be treason?”

  “Fleming tried to kill us, so we’re not under the SOE’s orders any more. We’re in league with Pernass, who’s an out and out NAZI.”

  He glanced across at her. “Kat, we should sort that out. If we fail to kill Hitler and Pernass disappears, we could easily be accused of treason.”

  “How the hell am I going to do that?” she cried. “We’re in the middle of Germany.”

  “You said Pernass might be able to find us a radio room.”

  “Yes, I know. I don’t know what got into me. The Germans can track radio signals and listen in on conversations.”

  “Then do it in the middle of an air raid,” he shot back. His face brightened. “Or on the yacht. Pernass might have a radio room on the yacht. If he does, we can take the yacht up-river, make the call, then move down-stream again. The Germans wouldn’t know where the call came from.”

  “Wow. Good idea, Sam.”

  Finding the center of Cologne was far from easy. The main road had been blocked off, and when they tried to find it again, German guards waved them away. It was as if the authorities didn’t want anyone in the center. Maybe it had been badly damaged with falling masonry, and many of the buildings still burning. Kelly worked his way around the backstreets, looking for an alternative route. Abruptly, they found themselves at the docks. A large cargo ship burned fiercely, and firemen were hosing it down, but the private marina seemed untouched.

  Kat whooped. “Hey, well done, Sam. Just what we need.”

  Driving slowly along the quay, they scanned all the boats. There were barges, derelict pleasure boats, elderly cargo boats, and small yachts, many covered with canvas, waiting for the war to end. At the end of the quay, they saw what they needed, a large river launch begging for someone to steal it. An old Delta, made in Norway, it had a calked teak deck and a cabin that slept six.

  “Hey, how about that?” Stewart called, inspecting the wheelhouse. “The key’s still in the ignition.”

  “Of course, ya know what’s gonna happen,” Dore said, as they all climbed aboard. “When we get back, someone will have stolen the Bentley.”

  CHAPTER 23

  With no moon and the sky heavy with clouds, the river was a dark, an opalescent gray. Parts of the city were still on fire, and in many ways, it helped guide them, until their eyes adjusted to the dark. Navigating the river in the dark was no easy matter. Kat hoped there would be warning lights on the bridges, but there weren’t any, and on two occasions they bumped into anchored boats.

  Air raid sirens began to wail, and spotlights blinked on as a new wave of Lancasters filled the skies. The explosions began on the horizon as small flashes of li
ght, soon becoming a blinding and thunderous bombardment as hundreds of bombs rained down and whole rows of buildings erupted in a cacophony of fire. They saw the river now. It glowed an eerie orange, smoke swirling in the breeze, the water rippling with each new blast. They felt the hot wind from one particular blast, and when it got really bad, they lay in the bottom of the boat, praying not to take a direct hit.

  It didn’t last long. Ten minutes later, the city fell silent again, a cloud of acrid smoke drifting across the river. They finally spotted the Excelsior half a mile upstream. It was anchored opposite what looked like another docking area, and to their surprise, lights glimmered in the portholes. They also heard music, which felt positively bizarre under the circumstances. Perhaps Pernass tried to drown out the air raid. As they drew nearer, they noticed guards, four of them, nervously pacing the decks. Pernass wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Sam,” Kat whispered. “Take over Command. Tell them who we are. They’ll never believe a woman’s in charge.”

  “You want me to do it? Wouldn’t Capetti be better? He really is a Major.”

  “He’s Italian. They’ll think it’s weird.”

  “Okay, if you insist.” Standing up, he waved to the nearest guard. “Major Wolfram to see Colonel Pernass!” he shouted, throttling back. “Permission to board!”

  The guards crowded around the rail, their faces a dark orange in the flickering light. “One moment!” one of them shouted.

  At that moment a door banged open, and Pernass appeared on deck. “Permission granted,” he said, sharply. “Help them aboard.”

  When a gate opened, and a rope ladder rolled down, Dore and Steward tethered the launch to the yacht and helped Kat to board. Moments later, they were all on the yacht.

  “I should warn you,” Pernass said, in English. “None of my guests know who you are. I’ll have to explain it to them, so please introduce yourselves in German.”

  “They didn’t know we were coming?” Kat asked.

  “I said you were a Special Unit. I didn’t explain who you really are.”