Kat woke to the sound of water slapping against the hull. A large boat must have passed because the yacht gently rocked. Climbing out of bed, she peered through the porthole. They were anchored in the middle of the river. A barge carrying coal passed by and someone sailed a small dinghy. It was hard to believe that someone was sailing when, not far away, the city was in ruins. Getting dressed, she made her way to the galley, where she found Dore frying eggs.
“Morning, Jock. You sleep well?”
“Like a log. I could easily live on a boat.”
“Are any of the others up?”
“Everyone’s up. They’re all out on deck.” He glanced across at her. “When do ya wanna drive to Hannover?”
Pernass gave her the address of the Army barracks in Hannover. All she needed to do was get everyone there and sign in at the squad room. A truck would be waiting for them. “I don’t know. I just woke up.”
He laughed. “I can tell. I thought it might be an idea to drive in daylight for once. We’ve got to get past Dortmund, and the Brits are bombing the hell out of it. I wouldn’t mind avoiding another air raid.”
“I agree, but don’t you want to sleep here for another night?”
Sliding the eggs onto a plate, he broke off a chunk of bread and sat down. “I’d love to, Lass, but this whole Berlin thing could be difficult. I don’t trust your stepfather, so I’m finding it hard to relax.”
“It’ll be fine, Jock. Pernass needs us now. We’re part of the mission… whatever that means. He’s committed to killing the Führer.”
“Well, I hope you’re right. Because it sounds as if Stauffenberg wants to kill him before we do.”
The timing bothered Dore as much as it worried Kat. “Pernass doesn’t think he’ll succeed.”
“I’m not surprised, they’ve already tried twice before. I’m also worried about the Bentley. If someone steals it, we’ll have to find another vehicle, and that could take time.”
Dore was right. You never knew what would happen with a war raging. They couldn’t afford to take a break. “You don’t have to convince me, Jock. We’ll go today.”
Spreading butter on a piece of bread, she sat down beside him. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about weapons. If we have to parachute in, it could be a problem.”
“Ay, I know, we’ll need a sixth parachute, and even that isn’t fool-proof if we need dynamite. Dynamite can go off if it lands badly.”
“Can’t we wrap it in cotton wool?”
“Ay, if you can find cotton wool. We’ll also need a field radio.”
She pulled a face. “What on earth for?”
Scratching the stubble on his neck, for a moment he didn’t answer. Eventually, Dore said, “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. I know how ya feel about Fleming, but we’d be mad not to tell him about the Hitler mission. If we have to escape into Russia, only Fleming could get us out of there.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. Stauffenberg might be right, why don’t we head for Gdańsk? We could catch a boat to Copenhagen. Then we wouldn’t need Fleming.”
Dore let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you said that, but we’ll still need Fleming. I really don’t fancy being hung for treason. Which means that we’ll need a field radio, and the batteries are bloody heavy, so we’ll probably need two extra parachutes.”
Slapping him on the back, she stood up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jock. You’re a lifesaver.”
To Kat’s relief, when they got back to the marina, the Bentley was exactly where they’d parked it, and covered with a fine layer of ash. They had to clean all the windows before they could drive away. As they made their way through the ruined streets of Cologne and were finally on their way to Hannover, they began to wish someone had stolen it. Twice they were stopped at checkpoints, questioned about the car, and their papers thoroughly scrutinized. When they finally reached the outskirts of Hannover, they were stopped and harassed again, for the same reason. Bentleys were great when they went unnoticed, but in the middle of a war, expensive cars demanded great attention.
When they arrived at the severely damaged military barracks and saw all the trucks sitting idle, it sparked a debate about whether to dump the car altogether. Dore, in particular, was against keeping it.
“Kat, for God’s sake, if Pernass is giving us a truck, which, I might add, we can all sleep in, why draw attention to ourselves? We’ve been stopped three times since Cologne, Berlin will be even worse, and there’s no way we can drive a Bentley to Poland. We’d be asking for trouble.”
“I don’t see the problem. Our papers are all in order now.”
“It’s just an added risk, and we don’t need the car.”
“Of course we need it,” she shot back. “If we only have a truck, three of us will have to sit in the back. Anyway, I like the car. If we leave it in Hannover, it will be ruined.”
Dore shook his head. “Lieutenant, can ya talk some sense into her?”
Kelly just shrugged. “Don’t drag me into this. I like the car as well. I’d love to drive through Berlin in it.”
“Guys, it’s not worth arguing about,” Stewart cut in. “It’s only 100 kilometers to Berlin, and if we’re traveling in convoy, they’re less likely to stop us.”
Grinning from ear to ear and leaving the car parked outside the barracks, Kat climbed out and went into the orderly’s room to sign in. Some of the windows were blown out, and the flustered Desk Sergeant barely glanced at her when she produced her papers.
“Bad night?” she inquired.
He looked at her and grimaced. “Worse than bad. We lost twenty-three men. Damn Brits and their filthy bombs.”
“Ya, I know. They’re bastards,” she said, doing her best to sound sincere. “I’ve come to pick up a truck.”
Checking her papers, he ran a finger down a clipboard list. “Oh yes, here we are, assigned to Oberführer Pernass.” He shrugged. “Take your pick. There are three Opels and two Mercedes. Keys are on the board behind you.”
“Thank you. Where can I get sleeping bags?”
“Believe it or not, they keep them in the armory.”
“Which is where?”
He pointed to a building with a large number 4 painted on the side. “The armory clerk’s an idiot, so just take what you need. If we have another air raid,” he added, morosely, “it’ll probably be gone in the morning.”
She laughed. “That should put a spring in everyone’s step.”
Taking the keys for one of the Opels, she made her way back to the car. She found Dore and Stewart standing by the open trunk. They were sorting through the weapons and checking how much ammunition they still had.
She waved the keys at them. “We have transport. Can someone come to the armory with me? I have to collect sleeping bags.
“We should drive the car inside,” Dore said, slamming the trunk closed. “We need a field radio, and a few… er… other things.”
“Such as?”
“More ammunition.” He shrugged, trying not to make too much of it. “More grenades, a Panzerschreck and rockets.”
She stared at him. It felt almost surreal to be taking weapons from the Germans to kill Hitler, but Dore was right, while they were here and on Pernass’s authority, they may as well take advantage of it.
Waving her papers at the guard, she drove the Bentley past the Orderly’s Room and onto the Parade Ground, where a group of soldiers lined up to board two mud-splattered halftracks. They all turned to look when the Bentley drove by. They probably thought it was a visiting General. Either that or they were ogling Kat. Giving them a smile and winking, which cause
d some of them to cheer, she pulled up behind the assigned Opel truck.
She glanced at Dore as they all climbed out. With his thick neck, hairy arms, and wearing an SS uniform, he looked more German than the Germans. “I’ll try to be quick,” she whispered, lowering the Opel’s tailgate. “This place gives me the creeps.”
“Where are you going?”
She pointed to the building with a number 4 painted above the door. “The Armory. I’ll take Sam and Sandro with me. They speak German. How many rockets do you think we’ll need?”
“They come on boxes of two. Get six boxes and one Panzerschreck. Get a backpack for each of us. We’ll uncrate the rockets and put them in the backpacks. Remember, we got to carry this shit, so be realistic.”
“Six boxes,” she repeated, “and a radio… and grenades… and dynamite… and more ammunition for the Lugers and MP40s… and sleeping bags… and rations…”
Beckoning to Kelly and Capetti, she headed for the armory. It was only a few yards away, and they had a lot to carry. It was difficult to imagine how they were going to parachute into the mountains with it. She knew it was possible, the Army parachuted equipment in regularly, but their mission was far from regular. For a start, they needed to steal a suitable transport plane and hope it had parachutes, let alone the kind of parachutes needed to attach equipment.
As the Desk Sergeant suggested, the armory clerk was less than bright. He didn’t know what a FuG6 was, and when Kat told him, he didn’t know where the batteries were, he didn’t know the difference between a Panzerschreck and a Panzerfaust and the grenades he suggested were practically antiques. And there wasn’t a stick of dynamite to be found. Pernass would have to supply them with dynamite from another source.
“For Christ’s sake!” Kat exclaimed, losing her patience. “Can we just take what we need?”
“But I have to sign it out,” the clerk protested. “If I don’t know what you’re taking, how can I sign it out?”
“I’ll show you what we’re taking,” she said, finding boxes of rockets and signaling Kelly and Capetti to carry six boxes containing two rockets each to the truck. “All you have to do is tick it off the list.”
By the time they’d loaded the truck, found sleeping bags and were driving in convoy to Berlin, Kat couldn’t help wondering if they might be better off simply driving to Rastenburg. How could they possibly steal a plane and have time to load all that crap onto it, let alone parachute it into mountains they hadn’t known existed until two days ago?
They were passing Wolfsburg when Kelly said, “Stop worrying, Kat. We can ask Pernass to sort it all out.”
“What do you mean, sort it all out?” she said crossly. “He’s never experienced this kind of mission.”
“It’s easy. There’s an airfield at a place called Frankfurt Oder, which is on the Polish border.”
“Wow. You get around. What were you doing in Poland?”
“I was shagging a g… I used to go gliding there.”
She glared at him with narrowed eyes. “Hmmph. So that’s why you like gliding. How does that help us?”
“It helps us because I know the airfield. It used to be a civilian airfield until the Luftwaffe took over. They built the Hindenburg there. All Pernass has to do is find us a landing strip on the other side of the Polish border. While you and I steal the plane, the guys can drive the truck to the airstrip.”
“What, you mean takeoff and then land again?”
“Exactly. Then we’ll have all the time in the world to load up the gear and rig the parachutes.”
“If we find enough parachutes.”
“Stop being so negative. Pernass can do that as well. If he’s going to orchestrate all this, he can find us the equipment we need… including dynamite, which we still don’t have.”
CHAPTER 25
They parked in Berlin’s Tiergarten, the city’s most famous park. The last time Kat had been here, it was spring and the park full of children and people cycling. She’d been here with a group of student friends, lying around on the grass and talking about the possibility of war. The horse chestnuts were in flower, the weather unusually warm and she’d worn a summer dress. Now its mid-summer, she wore an SS uniform and the park almost deserted. There were large craters where there had once been flowerbeds, parts of the road were disintegrating, and many of the trees were gone, reduced to blackened stumps… how Berlin had changed.
They were sitting in the back of the truck, deciding what to do. Kat and Kelly were meeting Pernass at Drossel Kantine in one hour, and the others needed to eat as well. They couldn’t leave the truck unguarded with all its weapons. They would need to decide who would stay with it. Also, would Pernass arrange a hotel, or were they sleeping in the park?
“I’m really sorry, guys,” Kat said, “it’s the one thing I forgot to ask. I’m sure we can stay in a hotel, but we’d need the authorization documents to pay them, and only Pernass can get those for me.”
“Sandro and I don’t want to stay in a hotel,” Stewart said. “We want to stay in a brothel.”
“You’re kidding,” she cackled.
“Not at all. They’re organized by the NAZI Government for the Wehrmacht. If we’re going to wear these sodding uniforms, we may as well have some fun.”
“But you don’t speak German.”
“Sandro speaks German. Besides, for what we will be doing, there won’t be a whole lot of conversation.”
“Guys, can we be serious? Go and eat something and meet us back here. I’ll have all the answers by then.”
Getting back in the Bentley, she and Kelly sat there for a moment. She heard Dore hooting with laughter. It didn’t take much imagination to guess why he was laughing. Not that she could blame him, unless they’d found somewhere in Cairo, apart from herself, the men rarely spoke to a woman in over two years.
She glanced across at Kelly. “Am I being selfish?”
He gave a half-hearted shrug. “The thing is, they could all die at Rastenburg.”
“You think I should book them into a brothel?” she asked, incredulously.
“If that’s what they want, why not?”
She gazed around the ruined park. In the gathering gloom of evening, even the Brandenburg Gate looked gray and dismal. The war did so much damage. “Fine. I’ll ask Pernass to organize it.”
Starting the car, she drove down to the Victory Monument… or Golden Lizzy, as Berliners liked to call it… and turned left onto Altonear Strasser. Two minutes later, they were crossing the river. She would have liked to visit Alexanderplatz again, especially with Kelly and in the Bentley, but it would have to wait. Maybe they could go there later… when the others occupied themselves, she thought, ruefully.
“Can you remember where Drossel’s is?”
“I think so. Take the next right and then right again. If it’s not there, look for Krefeldstrasser. It’s around there somewhere. I thought you knew Berlin.”
She stamped on the brakes as a truck came barreling out of a side turning. “I do, but so many buildings have been destroyed, everything looks different.”
The houses they were passing were unrecognizable, skeletal hulks, chimney stacks thrust skyward, the remains of exposed bathrooms and severed bedrooms, rubble where houses once stood. The street was almost as bad, the remains of a burnt-out car, a pram, lying on its side, more rubble strewn across the sidewalk from collapsed buildings, she needed to be careful where she drove. About to tell Kelly she was lost, she spotted a gleaming row of cars, which included a new Mercedes with Swastika flags on its wings. They parked beside a darkened building that boasted a row of flickering hurricane lamps, picking out what had once been an expensively glazed
window. They found Drossel’s Kantine.
Parking behind the Mercedes, they approached the front door expecting to have to knock, but when they were only a few feet away, it opened, and a handsomely dressed man with a walrus mustache welcomed them inside. Unsure what to expect, they stepped warily past him. The restaurant surprisingly large, intimately lit and expensively furnished. White tablecloths graced every table, and candlelight gleamed on crystal glass and silver cutlery. Drossel’s Kantine was no ordinary restaurant.
They looked around at the customers. Without exception, they were all high-ranking Officers and their wives or girlfriends. The only civilians were the restaurant staff, and even they were in uniform, with their white shirts and black aprons. It was like a scene from a Hollywood movie.
“We’re meeting Oberführer Pernass,” Kelly informed the maître d’.
“Certainly sir. Come this way.”
Pernass sat in the back at a corner table, and his uniform positively gleamed in the candlelight. Even the scar that bisected his right eyebrow seemed three-dimensional. He stood up when he saw them, reached out to kiss Kat, but then thought better of it and sat down again.
“So you got here without problems?”
“Yes, we did,” Kat said, settling into a chair that the maître d’ pulled out for her. “Although it wasn’t easy to find. Berlin’s changed so much. It’s hardly recognizable.”
They fell silent as a waiter appeared, poured wine for them, and offered them menus. Kat ran an eye down the choices, liver dumpling soup, spaetzle with watercress, casseroled chicken with cabbage, liverwurst with sauerkraut… Considering the state of Berlin, it wasn’t a bad menu.
“Have you heard from Stauffenberg?” Kat asked when the waiter departed.
Pernass shook his head. “Not yet. The meeting’s tomorrow morning. Why, are you having second thoughts?”
“No, not at all. In fact, I have a few requests. We couldn’t find dynamite… or a detonator.”
“Not a problem. I can supply you with something more useful than dynamite. I have cases of Nobel 808. Anything else?”
Kat and Die Wolfsschanze Page 19
