B004U2USMY EBOK

by Wallace, Michael

  “Who took your father, Gaby? Who sent him here? Gaby, who is responsible? It’s not this man.”

  The answer came to her and suddenly everything about this horrible concrete building made sense. It was a giant snake cage, with a man dropping mice down to be destroyed inside.

  “Colonel Hoekman,” she said. “He’s the one. He did this.”

  #

  Gabriela spent a few more minutes with her father before the orderly returned. Helmut argued with him and managed to send him away. “We only have ten more minutes.”

  She stroked her father’s hair, then rubbed his neck. Scars ran like ribbons down his back; she could feel them through his gown. A lump on one shoulder, like a broken bone that had improperly healed. None of it seemed to cause him any pain.

  And yet he wasn’t completely unresponsive. He turned at one point and stared at her with liquid eyes and she swore she saw a glint of recognition.

  “Oh, Papá, I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”

  He gave a deep sigh, then turned back to the corner.

  It wasn’t ten minutes, more like five, before the orderly returned. Helmut argued, but the man was insistent. A soldier with a submachine gun appeared in the hallway and at last Helmut said they had to go.

  “No, I won’t.”

  “You have to,” he said in a gentle voice. He pried her fingers from the chair.

  “Papá, I’ll be back for you.”

  She was in a daze as Helmut led her back through the building. The same man was screaming for his mother and they wheeled a man past on a cart who stared at the ceiling with eyes so glazed she thought he was dead. At last they were out of the damnable place and outside. Even the smoggy air of Strasbourg was a relief after the formaldehyde and ammonia and blood that suffocated her lungs.

  She glanced back at the building as they reached the chain link gates, up to the roof where Roger had drawn the rooster with his face. “I know what made him do it.”

  “Hmm?” Helmut looked up from staring at his hands.

  “I know why Roger turned on his friends. They took him here and showed him my father. Or someone like him.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “It was an ugly thing Roger did,” Gabriela said. “His friends are going to suffer for it. But imagine they strap you into a chair and draw a line across your skull. You see a saw and a chisel on a tray and other horrible tools. The doctor comes and there’s blood on his apron and he’s wearing rubber gloves and a mask, so you can only see his eyes. You’re screaming, but nobody seems to be paying attention.”

  “Gaby, please, stop. Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “Then they wheel my father past. There’s a scar on his forehead that matches what they’ve drawn on your own skull. He’s alive, but there’s nothing behind his eyes but an empty hole. Colonel Hoekman comes into the room then and you stop screaming, but only because the terror has sucked it out of you. He tells you what you have to do for the Gestapo and you beg him to let you do more. You’ll betray anyone, denounce anyone. You’ll prove how useful you can be, because there’s no torture or death that’s worse than the empty hole.”

  Helmut stared at her with a horrified expression. “Where did that come from?”

  She couldn’t say anything, just turned away from Helmut to face the train station. She could feel the asylum squatting behind her, gray and menacing. Her father remained inside.

  Chapter Twenty-two:

  It was too late to return to Paris, but Helmut didn’t want to stay in Strasbourg. “I’ve found that constant air raid sirens and bombings tend to ruin a good night’s sleep.”

  Gabriela didn’t care. She walked in a choking smog. It was all she could do to take her next breath.

  The line was bombed out near Nancy, so they took the train south instead and stopped in a village near Mulhouse, at a hotel a few blocks from the train station. The owner spoke German to Helmut, Alsatian to his wife, but then, when she passed later on her way to the water closet, she overheard them speaking French behind closed doors.

  There was hot water and she took a bath. She scrubbed herself until she couldn’t smell any formaldehyde, vomit, or ammonia. Just the scent of lavender soap. When she came out, wrapped in towels, she discovered Helmut had gone into the village and found her a change of clothes.

  The hotel room was small but clean, with a hot, noisy radiator. Helmut retrieved a kettle from the kitchen downstairs and made her tea, mixed with brandy. By the second cup she felt herself relaxing. Or maybe it was impossible to sustain the anger, horror, and despair she’d felt since seeing her father.

  It wasn’t fair. After everything her father had suffered and years of searching for him. They deserved a happy ending, like in one of the books from the store.

  Helmut stood by the window, parted the curtains to look down to the street.

  “The problem is,” she said, “I want two things and I can’t have them both.”

  “What two things?”

  “First, I’ve got to get my father out of there. Get him out and find a safe place where I can take care of him.”

  “It won’t be easy. It was hard enough getting in to see him. And expensive. Not to mention dangerous. I took some risks.”

  “You have no idea how grateful I am.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s nothing. I wish I could do more.”

  “So you don’t think it can be done. Get my father out, I mean.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Helmut said. “I said it won’t be easy. Let me think about it. What’s the other thing?”

  “I want Hoekman to pay for what he did.”

  “If there were any justice, he’d hang for his crimes. The man is a monster. But what could you possibly do?”

  “You’re right, it’s probably even more hopeless than helping my father. Like you said, people like Hoekman profit from their cruelty these days. But there’s got to be a way.”

  He was quiet for a long moment, then said in a quiet voice, “There are other ways to get justice. Quicker, more sure ways.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Did they search you the last time Colonel Hoekman summoned you?”

  “No. The first time, yes. I used to carry a knife for protection, and he took it. Second time, he didn’t bother. He must have known I wouldn’t dare.”

  “So you could easily conceal something on your person next time you saw him.”

  “I suppose I could. Another knife, maybe, if I could get one.”

  “A knife isn’t good enough. He’d overpower you and take it. You need a gun.”

  “Could you get me one?”

  “I could. In fact, I’ve already got one. There’s a Mauser semi-automatic pistol hidden in my luggage.”

  The idea was tempting. She imagined the look on Hoekman’s face as she pulled the trigger. When he realized that he was about to suffer for his crimes. When he looked into her eyes and saw, knew, why she was killing him.

  “I’d never survive. They’d hear the gun, come in and arrest me, unless I could kill myself first.”

  “That’s the risk,” he said.

  “That doesn’t matter. Papá deserves whatever sacrifice I make, except that one thing.”

  “Your father is still alive.”

  “Exactly. He’s still alive and if I kill Hoekman, they’ll arrest me and my father will spend the rest of his life in that horrible place. I can’t do that, I need to get him out first, then take care of Hoekman.”

  “Except that as soon as you got your father out, that would be impossible. They’d be looking for you; you’d have to stay in hiding.” He shook his head. “No, if you get your father first, you’ll have to forget about Hoekman, he’ll be untouchable.”

  “And if I get Hoekman, I can’t save my father.”

  Helmut looked thoughtful. “What if. . .? No, you should drop the whole idea. It’s too dangerous.”

  “What were you going to say? Tell me,” she urged.

  “Let’s s
ay you get close to Hoekman and take care of him with the gun. If I helped you, if I got you out of there then I could hide you. Smuggle you out of Paris.”

  “And my father?”

  “Supposing that at the same time you were shooting Hoekman there was a fire in the records room at the insane asylum. With the arresting agent dead, his records destroyed, your father would be just another patient. At least until they sort through Hoekman’s files and figure out his cases. In the meanwhile, I’ll pay someone to look the other way while we wheel your father out of the asylum.”

  She put down her drink and sat next to him on the bed. “You could do that?”

  “I think so.”

  She took a deep breath. “Do you think I could pull it off? Could I kill Hoekman or would that be throwing my own life away?”

  “If you are prepared. If you want it badly enough. Yes. You might get caught in spite of everything, but at least you’d have tried.”

  “I can’t get caught. I can’t stop imagining what it would be like to be strapped down on an operating table while they draw a line across my forehead. I couldn’t do it, I’m not that strong.”

  He took her hands. “I swear to you that whatever happens, I won’t let that happen.”

  “If they catch me you’d have to kill me. I can’t do it, I can’t go through what my father did. Please, could you do that for me? Could you find a way to kill me first?”

  “Gaby, if I have to, I’ll pull the trigger myself. It would be the hardest, worst thing I’d ever done, but I’d do that for you, I swear it.”

  She felt such a swelling of emotion that she had to speak. “Helmut, I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  He stroked her face, stared into her eyes. His were shockingly blue. He was beautiful, almost too pretty to be a man. “I want to make love, Gaby.”

  Gabriela nodded. “Me, too.”

  After their crush of passion on the train, she was afraid. That feeling was unexpected and she didn’t know exactly what to do with it. She was more tentative when she reached out this time. He leaned forward and kissed her, not on the mouth, but on the cheek, then the eyelids. He stroked a hand along her face.

  Gabriela let out a sigh. She could feel him trembling. A light kiss on her lips.

  She undid the top two buttons on his shirt and slid her hand inside. His skin was warm, she could feel his heart beating.

  “Oh, Gaby.”

  “Take off your clothes,” she whispered.

  But without warning, he pulled away. He groaned and put the heels of his hands to his eyes, shook his head. “I can’t do it. It’s wrong.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have, I know you’re married, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s not you. It’s nothing to do with you at all and it’s not even about Loise.” He rose, paced the short distance between the bed and the window.

  “Helmut, what is it, what’s wrong?”

  “You can’t do it. You can’t kill Colonel Hoekman. You need to get away from him, go into hiding.” He turned around. “I’ll help you do it.”

  “I’m not going into hiding. And you’re wrong. I’m strong enough to do this.”

  “No, you can’t. And you won’t. I won’t let you use my gun, I won’t help you in any way. I’ll help you hide, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Helmut, for god’s sake, you practically talked me into it yourself.”

  “Well, I changed my mind, is that so hard to understand?”

  “I know the risks, I know it’s dangerous, and I still think I can do it.”

  “You think? You think? There’s no thinking you can do it, there’s only doing on one hand and dying on the other. A horrible, nasty death. No, you can’t. You’ll die, I promise you. And they’ll make you suffer.”

  “I won’t die! I’ve got too many reasons to stay alive.”

  “Reasons? You think that matters? The world is full of people with good reasons to stay alive. Some of them are dying right now.”

  She thrust out her chin. “I’m going to do it. There’s nothing you can do or say to talk me out of it. Either you’re going to help me or I’m going to do it on my own.”

  Helmut started to say something, but then his mouth snapped shut. It was hard to say what he was thinking. Of course, all the same arguments that she’d used herself minutes ago still held. If she killed Hoekman on her own, who would help her father? She’d never get him out. Helmut had to know that, had to wonder if she was serious.

  He stood up, buttoned his shirt and headed for the door without saying a word.

  “Helmut?”

  “I’m sorry, I need some air. I’ll be downstairs.”

  And with that he was gone.

  #

  Helmut retreated to the hotel bar. He intended to drink himself senseless. He’d maintain just enough consciousness to crawl into bed and pass out. In the morning he’d think more clearly.

  He ordered a straight whiskey and sat by himself near the fireplace. It crackled with a small, but cheery fire. The only other clients in the bar were two men speaking in Alsatian. He couldn’t understand a word. Good. He downed the liquor, waved his hand for another, then a third.

  “Too much strong drink can have deleterious effects on the mind,” a man said from behind his shoulder.

  He turned, startled, to see Gemeiner standing with a sardonic smile at his lips. Gemeiner wore a business suit and not his uniform. He took a seat next to Helmut.

  Helmut returned to his drink. “I thought you never left Germany.”

  “Alsace is Germany now, haven’t you heard?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Gemeiner pulled up a chair. “Have you bedded the girl yet?”

  “Not yet, no. She’s ready though. I’ll do it when I go back.”

  “Not if you don’t stop drinking. At that rate, you’ll be sleeping on the floor in a puddle of your own vomit.”

  “I know my limits. She’s already offered herself to me.”

  “So why didn’t you do it?”

  “Waiting for the right moment. You can’t rush these things.”

  “Well, enjoy yourself,” Gemeiner said. “It’s a hell of a job, you have to enjoy the extras when they come.”

  “Goddammit.”

  “Oh, come on. I know what you’re going through, and I appreciate it, I do. But compared to what that girl gave up, is going to give up, what are your problems?”

  “Exactly right,” Helmut said. “She’s agreed to kill Hoekman. She’s insisting on it, in fact.”

  Insisting on it even when he tried to talk her out of it. He couldn’t go through with it, he just couldn’t.

  “And I think she can pull it off,” he continued. “She’ll go in there, gun down the bastard, and there will be a car waiting out front to carry her to safety.”

  “Only it won’t be you in the car,” Gemeiner said, “it will be two hired men. And they’ll kill her.”

  The levity was gone from Gemeiner’s voice, replaced by a grim certainty. Good thing, too. Helmut was ready to throw himself at the man, beat him senseless. One more joke would have pushed him over the edge.

  “No, I can’t do that,” Helmut said. “I’ve got to do it myself.”

  “Don’t be a fool.”

  “I’m not being a fool, I’m doing what’s right. If I’m going to sign off on her death, I’ve got to be a man and do it myself. Otherwise, I’m no better than the people we’re fighting, no better than Hans Hoekman.”

  “Oh, Hoekman would happily do it himself. He loves that sort of thing.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “You know your problem?” Gemeiner asked. “You let yourself get emotionally attached.”

  “Is there some other way? Because please, tell me if there is.”

  “The thing is, I can’t trust you any more. Your intentions are right, but once she steps into the car, you won’t be able to follow through. You’ll remember her soft
kisses, her caresses and then you’ll think, ’It wouldn’t be so bad, would it, to let her live? We could make it look like she died without actually killing her.’ And then you’ll disobey orders. That’s why it’s got to be someone else.”

  Helmut had nothing to say to this. The man was almost right, in fact, but not quite. Truth was, he’d already decided as much, he didn’t intend to kill her at all. He was going to claim he had, that was all. Sure, Gemeiner insisted that without a body and a note, the Gestapo wouldn’t believe it was a crime of passion. They’d keep digging, but with more men, more resources, until they uncovered the conspiracy. But Helmut was sure he could work out something almost as good. He just needed to think of something.

  “You never answered the question,” Helmut said. “What are you doing here?”

  If Gemeiner’s voice had been serious before, it now sounded positively grim. “We lost another man to the Gestapo.”

  “Really, who?”

  “Who is unimportant, except that he knew too much, was too critical to our plans.”

  Helmut felt a tight band of worry in his gut. “Did they take him alive?”

  “I don’t know. He was our man on the inside, so he was the one who would have fed us the very information we are now lacking. Did he bite his capsule in time? We have no way of knowing.”

  “And if he didn’t?”

  “Then we are all dead. The safest thing, in fact, would be to fall back on our contingency plans. You have one, I presume?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  His contingency plan was a hundred thousand Swiss francs in Geneva and ninety thousand American dollars in a safe-deposit box in Buenos Aires. Enough to flee Europe and rebuild somewhere else. Nobody knew about this contingency, not even Loise.

  “That’s the safest course,” Gemeiner said. “But the coward’s way out.” He shook his head. “I don’t intend to back out. There’s too much at stake, we’re too close. If I die, so be it. I assume you feel the same way.”

  “Let’s say your man killed himself,” Helmut said. He had finished his drink, but when the bartender on the other side of the room caught his eye with an implied question about refills, he shook his head. “What do we lose besides intelligence?”