by P. W. Child
“You have to take it easy Herr Cleave. That bone is not going to mend with you frolicking around like a child...with a child,” she warned.
“I know. Is there any way I can make a call from here? I need to contact a friend in Scotland,” he asked.
“Yes, but you can do that tomorrow. First, you get some rest,” she advised.
After the doctor left, Sam looked at the sleeping child on the other side of the room. Curious about the card, he decided to wait until later so that he could steal over there and see what the big deal was about. The urge was inexplicable. It was almost like fate.
Chapter 7 – Sam’s Invitation
As promised, Nina had received the first half of her fee by bank transfer by the middle following week, from Professor Kulich’s office in Prague. The professor herself was absent, being on an expedition in the Amazon jungle until Sunday. Nina had been looking into the area they were set to visit. The forests of Western Bohemia, in particular the Brdy Forests, were mysterious and shrouded in historical legend. All Nina was told was that she would accompany the professor to a patch of land her family used to own there, on which more controversial things took place during the Second World War.
Nina had never been to Bohemia, the ancient center of Europe where Prague was the shining gem in the crown of the continent, the City of a Hundred Spires, the mother city of the Bohemian world. There was a wealth of cultural treasure to be found there, not only in history, but also in architecture and art.
On the morning of the Thursday prior to her departure from Edinburgh, Nina received a call from an unknown number with a telephone code she identified as based in Germany. The historian knew many people in the country, but had never seen this number before, so it was with some curiosity she answered her cell phone.
“Nina,” a familiar voice said.
“Sam?” she exclaimed, smiling immediately at the sound of her best friend’s voice. Her heart jumped like a school girl’s. “Sam! Where the hell are you? Patrick told me you left on a quick job and said you would be back in a few days and then you just fucking vanished! I was worried, goddammit!” She meant to sound irate, but it only fell from her lips as welcome excitement.
“Jesus, are you done?” he answered. “I have been meaning to call, but I have been a tad preoccupied with a hunting trip.”
“What were you hunting in Germany?” she frowned.
“Oh, I wasn’t hun-ting. I was hun-ted,” he said nonchalantly. Nina gasped on the other side of the phone, but before she could respond he continued. “Anyway, that is why I am calling. I need your help.”
“Anything, Sam,” she said quicker than she meant to, overcome with relief that she heard his voice again. She had become far more attached to Sam than she ever meant to, and now certainly far happier to hear from him than ever before.
Sam briefly told Nina about his job and the subsequent executions that no-one, apart from parties involved, yet carried knowledge. Then he touched on the basic facts of his ordeal with the mercenaries and told her how he had ended up in a hospital in Weimar.
“Now I will be here for a few more days, but I have a really bad feeling about the people who saved me and I want to go and help them, but I can’t have the camera and evidence on me, see? I need for you to send someone you trust to collect it from me, before those miscreants locate me.” he asked. His voice was firm and stable, but Nina knew him better. He was worried, really worried, and perhaps even a little frightened. But she would be scared out of her wits if she were in that situation.
“Of course. What is the name of the hospital you are at?” she asked as she fumbled for a pen and paper. “You know, if you can wait a few days...”
“I can’t, Nina. These people are in danger because they helped me,” he said.
“So what the hell are you going to do? Are you a one man army now, Sam?” Nina barked. She was instantly pissed off at his perpetual need to bail people out and put himself in peril for it.
“No, I’m not going out there alone. Christ, how dumb do you think I am?” he snapped back. “I am taking the German covert office with me. Patrick has put me in touch with a sister organization of MI-6 in Germany who deals specifically with war criminals and clandestine illegal activities still being perpetrated in current times,” he whispered hard, as if someone had just entered the room and he did not have much more time to talk. “I am taking them out there, but I need this evidence to be horded until I have made sure Herr Mueller and his family is safe and I can return to Scotland to have Paddy have a look at it.”
He told her where he was, which ward and what time visiting hours were for her to send someone. Nina processed it all in her mind, matching the time frame up with her own trip. The Czech Republic bordered on Germany. By Monday she would be right next to Sam and he could join them for the trip to the Brdy Forests where Professor Kulich’s family estate was waiting for her to obtain the documents.
“Okay, Sam. I’ll send someone to get it from you tomorrow. Let me just see if I can get hold of Sabine. She is the closest to you, but I haven’t spoken to her in a while, so I am not even sure if she is still in that region,” Nina said as she scribbled little caricatures and symbols in thought, leaving the message pad a mess of ink and lines. “So good to hear from you again, Sam. Please stay in contact in the next few days. Let me know how it goes, alright?” she said finally when she heard people in the background asking Sam to finish up.
“Thanks Nina,” he said quickly. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
The line went off. Nina sank back in her chair in the living room and lit a cigarette. She thought of the trouble Sam was in and why he did not want to tell her more about the subject of the expedition he was on. He had a penchant for getting involved in the more risky circles of international undercover deals and somehow it seemed to satisfy a lust for the dangerous life she herself had turned him back to after she found his new mundane and safe life so dissatisfying that she called him a pussy. It was her fault, she figured, and now she was complaining.
She took a long drag and sighed out the thick smoke while the morning sun’s glare through her window grew weak in the presence of the cold banks gathering. Nina opened her curtains to better see what she was researching in front of her. Professor Kulich’s office had sent her details on the subject of the trip she was to undertake with them. Apparently it was regarding Kulich’s right to some relics excavated from a well at a castle in the Brdy Forest, but they did not mention the name of the castle. Omitting this tiny fact had her at a disadvantage, but she thought to search for similar legends pertaining to Nazi war theft in former Czechoslovakia. There was one story in particular that stood out from all the places where Nina looked, both on the internet search engines and her trusty pile of European history books.
It kindled a little fire in her belly.
The childlike exhilaration of a treasure hunt blossomed in her spirit when she found the interesting little shards of information. Could the documents held for Petra Kulich possibly be the infamous secret SS war records that were found in a chest under Chateau Zbiroh? More documents have been found, according to Professor Kulich’s office, that have yet to be scrutinized by an adept historian such as herself.
“Oh my god, what an honor that would be!” Nina exclaimed through the billows of smoke that drifted up through the weak sunlight and dissipated above her head, turning the ambience of the room a deep blue-white.
“Historic weapons were also found there? That is so my thing! My god, I can’t wait to get there,” she told herself as she extinguished the cigarette in the pot of the giant delicious monster that grew half over her desk. Nina found the place fascinating, even way back when she first read about it in her second year of study. Now it was all coming back to her. She punched the names of the chateau and the find into her computer’s image search and just sat in the morning luster, looking at all the breathtaking pictures of the antique castle and the surrounding beauty of the Bohemian country.
/> There was an eviction or something that took place during 1942, she recalled. Spurred by the sudden reminiscence of some facts, Nina jolted up in her chair and typed in ‘Chateau Zbiroh, Nazi occupation’. She went to the kitchen to make a cup of chamomile tea. It was not her preferred brew, but the doctor had advised her to keep her mind and body as serene as she could every day until they knew that she was out of danger. Especially now that she knew she was on a path to hallucinations and nightmares that might just drive her crazy, she adhered to all orders possible to avoid more of that psychic bullshit that had her doubting her sanity.
When she returned to her desk it was all there on the screen, just as she thought she remembered it. Nina smiled with her beauty carrying signs of fatigue as much as enthusiasm.
“Aye, there you are. I still remember this,” she said softly as her eyes scrutinized the screen for more information, her long slender fingers lightly grazing the touch pad of the laptop as she navigated the site. Nina needed to know what the Nazis found so attractive about this particular castle.
“I would have thought they’d take the Palace in Prague instead....pretty sure they did at some point...” she spoke to herself. Her hair was greasy and her features lacked the usual cosmetics, because Nina Gould had been too busy delving into the history of the chateau and other similar places in the Czech Republic to bother with anything more than basic hygiene for now. Her bangs and sides were taken back in a makeshift little ponytail on top of her head which gave her the distinct look of a high school girl in the comfort of her own bedroom, writing in her journal.
The information she gathered on the occupation of this specific place came down to the fact that the SS realized that the jasper deposits in the rock strata under the chateau and in the surrounding mountains held a very valuable use for their communications systems during the war. The semi-precious stone beneath the castle was thought to reflect radio signals, thus serving as the perfect way to monitor radio traffic from within certain frequencies in the radius it spanned.
Because of this, they had decided that Chateau Zbiroh would be the perfect site for their headquarters at the time. Apart from the SS, the post-war Communists also used the location for radio amplification, so that they could track American stealth aircraft on behalf of the Warsaw Pact armies, as these planes were supposedly imperceptible. Now the well had been excavated over the years and items like weaponry and pieces of jewelry had been found. In addition it was found that a false bottom in the well had been constructed, rigged with hand grenades to guard what was beneath, obviously. During the investigations on this well, Nina read, they had found masonry, timber and mud which accounted for the structuring of several compartments under the false bottom. She was spellbound by the possibilities of what could be in there, even under the chateau itself, but Nina had to admit that she would be there in the capacity of historian, not archaeologist. For now she would just have to watch what they came up with in the rich woods of Brdy.
She had to meet up with Sam.
Immediately Nina e-mailed Professor Kulich’s office to see if she could go ahead so long. She would meet Petra Kulich in Prague on Sunday, so that they could leave for the chateau according to plan, but she needed to go to Germany so long to assist an old friend.
Chapter 8 – The Good Samaritan
“You are just going to let him get away with it?” Heinz asked his wife. He could not believe that she did not press charges against the little brat who stole her bag and all her money. He was old school, the brave Heinz. Even his hair style gave away his affinity for discipline and old world values. Shaved much like Hitler’s, his shaded scalp was prevalent on the bottom half of his head while the top of his head sported wet looking straight grey and black strands, carefully Brill creamed with a comb. He lacked the moustache, but his eyes were like Arctic water – cold and tumultuous.
“He is just a child, Karl-Heinz. And who knows how long he has been living on the streets, having to scavenge and deceive for food? He is no more than twelve years old. There is time to mold him into a fine citizen, still, but not if he is already put behind bars just for doing what he needs to stay alive,” his wife replied while she sat in front of the hotel room dressing mirror, fixing her elaborate golden earrings to hang straight.
“He needs a bloody good hiding, that’s what!” he thundered as he struggled to get the triangular knot of his tie just light on his collar. “Children like that need to see that there are repercussions to their actions. I don’t care what his reasons are. When I was a young boy, we were just as poor, but we were on a farm. If we lived in the city, no doubt we would also have been homeless just like this little criminal. But let me tell you the truth – you would never have caught me stealing!” he said under his scowl.
Heinz’ distinct mouth totally resembled his personality. A wide gash with hardly any lips fell downwards at the ends, dropping to give him the impression that he was either very unhappy or very mean. In truth, Heinz was neither. Perhaps it was his giving nature and his love for his wife both, that had him especially fuming at the unfortunate incident in Cluj.
“Oh come now, you have never been that hungry. How would you know? Besides, I did get my purse back with most of my things. All he took was my money,” she defended the boy, to her husband’s discontent.
He mumbled, “And then you still arrange for him to be brought here and have his hospital bills paid too, Greta! Really? I tell you, that seizure was his punishment for taking what did not belong to him.”
Gracefully she rose from her chair, checking her eyeliner just before walking over to her grumpy husband to help him with the stubborn tie. She was a ravishing German woman in her fifties, her hair auburn with fancy signs of grey which only enriched her looks. Her dark eyes were always glinting with innate fire. Greta was a passionate woman. In business, in leisure and in charity she was known as an active and energetic lady who worked tirelessly. What made her so loved by her peers was the fact that she did not allow her wealth to change her or provoke any self-importance. No, Greta was even more helpful to the less fortunate, and ‘less fortunate’ in her case, was a broad spectrum. She was a millionaire in her own right, involved not only in charities but quite a few global organizations as well. Her office held three assistants in the capacity of secretaries and PA’s, and they worked full time to coordinate all her attendances and funding activities.
Her husband was a retired brigadier, ex-mercenary in the 1970’s in Angola and Nigeria and generally a big game hunter when the mood took him. In fact, he had met his wife of twenty five years on a safari she was on with her boyfriend at that time, a visiting dignitary from Austria. He was the father of her only son, Igor, the young man who almost never left her side. Her husband had raised Igor as his own son and the two got along splendidly, which only added to Greta’s amicable demeanor towards strangers. Her life had been good. She came from an affluent family and her adult life was adventurous, free and rewarding, so she had never had any reason to be bitter or unhappy about anything, apart from trivial things all people have to deal with, of course.
After the boy had made away with her belongings, she was contacted by the police in Cluj who returned the ransacked purse and the child’s sweater to her. Naturally, he could not be traced by the piece of clothing, but one of the men from the petrol station was familiar with the little vagabond and when he saw the woolen jersey he knew exactly who it belonged to. On the insistence of Greta’s stern husband the man informed them of all Radu’s hang-outs, one of which was the park where he had been seen often. It was there that they found the two hysterical Australian girls carrying the convulsing child to the road for help.
Greta and her husband had flown their friends to Cluj with them for the weekend for antique hunting in the old Romanian haunts, so they simply hired two EMT’s to accompany them back to Germany on the private jet with the homeless young boy. Greta had contacts at all the embassies and higher orders where she personally knew politicians and judges. Get
ting a homeless orphan to cross borders was not a problem.
Greta’s cell phone interrupted her husband’s bombastic mumbling.
“If it’s work, tell them no,” he grumbled. His wife responded with a look of light reprimand, rolling her eyes as she answered the call. Heinz washed his face with cold water in the en suite bathroom, trying to eavesdrop on Greta’s conversation, but he could not hear any of the words he was listening for. He always allowed her her independence, but still he kept a keen ear on her calls and diary appointments. For all her admirable qualities, she was a bit of a flirt, something her husband had never been able to make peace with. There was no doubt that his wife was a very fetching woman who’s standing and reputation only made her more charming to all who encountered her. That was all good and well, but Heinz was neither young, nor attractive and he knew it. He often wondered what kept her to his side. After all, she was the wealthier of the two of them, the better looking, but he was nonetheless grateful for her loyalty. Regardless of the fact that he thought she stayed out of some sort of moral driven pity or perhaps for Igor, she never gave him reason to doubt her affection. Things like requited respect always posed a subliminal doubt deep inside Heinz, born from his countless let downs with women and military superiors alike in his youth.
When Greta chose him he reckoned it was his history as a disciplined and capable man of the world that intrigued her. Later on in their relationship he realized that it was more a matter of support and freedom, both things she craved and he gave freely. He soon noticed that she would acquire much of her aid, both financially and socially, from men she flirted with, however subtle her charms. At first he shrugged it off as diplomacy, but sometimes his beautiful wife would take her hand gestures and grazing of jaw lines a bit far.
