His favorite form of recreation was opiates and used the same drug on many of his patients, killing some in the process. He was indicted and sanctioned numerous times for the over prescription of these drugs. Yet the desperate kept seeking him out. He and his associated would convince the unfortunate that he or she would be whisked to Argentina or Portugal etc. for a mere fee of 25,000 francs. Once they had paid and were under his control he would inoculate them "on the insistence of the Argentine government". Having no intention, nor the ability, to carry out his promised duties, he would kill his victims by injecting them with cyanide.
Initially his henchmen would dispose of the bodies by depositing them in the Seine. During 1942 and 1943 body parts were popping up like corks in the river like clockwork. Eventually they started using quick lime and then finally incineration in a cast iron stove in the basement of 21 Rue Le Suer. Some were identified, many were not. The Paris police was not interested in investigating dead Jews in the height of the occupation.
The Gestapo heard of this legendary underground escape route and coerced a Jew, Yvan Dreyfus, into approaching the network for passage, but Dreyfus vanished with the rest in May 1943. Eventually the Germans actually caught and tortured confessions out of Dr. Petoit's and his gang. They long suspected that the gang was actually smuggling out the Jews and others, and were actually relieved when they found out the they were just being murdered instead. The Germans somehow overlooked 21 Rue Le Sueur in their investigation and since Petoit was only killing Jews they amazingly, let them all go after 8 months of torture and confessions.
The Dr. took up his old habits after being released. He was finally caught by the French police when he was too enthusiastic in burning the bodies on March 11th, 1944 and the ensuing smoke and stench alarmed his neighbors who called the authorities. They discovered a roaring fire made up of human legs and arms acting as kindling along with other remains strew about the premises of 21 Rue Le Sueur. They also found partially decomposed bodies buried in quicklime at other locations owned by the Dr.Penoit. All toll the body count was over 60.
The doctor escaped after actually showing up in front of his house as it was being searched. He was confronted by a policeman but manage to escape. He was on his bicycle and was not caught until the war was just about over. Even though the trial was held in Vichy France, the story was so salacious that it made international news, and even crowded out the news of the war on certain days. Despite a spirited defense by the doctor himself, he was convicted and was set to meet Mr. Guillotine on May 23rd 1946. Then just another amazing happenstance in this ghoul’s life occurred when a stray bomb collapsed part of the jail in which he was being held. 24 other prisoners, including Dr. Petoit, made their escape.[lxxxvi]
Petoit must have had a secret of cash and false identities because he disappeared from Paris and eventually France. He ended up not far away in London and convinced the authorities that he was an expert in supply and was drafted to work as the head of supply for the RAF Fighter Command control room at 50 Berkeley Square. This is where I encountered him much to my dismay. You see I cannot directly kill or hurt living beings. Oh I have tried but my hands, feet and even teeth just pass right through the intended victim and they are never the worse for wear. If the conditions are right I can cause a very high degree of fright and even permanent damage by revealing myself. But the conditions have to be right. My chance looked like it would never come concerning Dr. Petoit and he just didn't show up one day for his assigned duties. I overheard conversations about him just disappearing but no one knew what ever happened to him.
Hopefully he was killed by a stray bullet or contracted consumption or some other dread disease. Then as luck would have it he showed up late one night and snuck upstairs to my usual room where I tended to exist. At first I did not recognize him. He had lost a great deal of weight and looked like a hunted man. He was dressed in tattered clothing and looked like your common street person. I was planning on just scaring this beggar away when that feeling of wickedness came over me and when he took off his hat. I saw who he was.
Now the truly wicked are much easier to scare and haunt then the righteous. Something to do with a good imagination for the macabre I surmise. You have to have a fertile mind in order to do the things that the Dr. did to his victims. I knew that I had to set the stage properly and had only one chance to end this reprehensible excuse for a human life once and for all. He had to wait for the right moment and somehow lure him gently so that he was out in the hall with his back to the rail before I revealed himself in all my horror. I was in fact a horror to those who ever saw me. I had no idea what I looked like, as the mirror did not reflect my image back to me. The look on the few who did deserve my appearance was unmistakable.
Oh, how the Dr. deserved to look upon my countenance. The timing had to be such that the Dr. would jump backwards and press forcefully against the weak part of the railing and fall four stories to the basement hopefully hitting vital parts all the way down. It had been a long time since I had made himself appear and I was hoping I remembered how to make my presence known. It was not a skill that you can practice as it cause all sorts of commotion and consternation to the people involved and if no one else was around I had no idea if it worked or not. Rats to not make a great audience for this kind of thing.
For whatever reason I was not given the ability of a poltergeist so I could not make a sound nor move objects. I did not know how it was determined why I was trapped in this house nor why I was not allowed to do what normal specters can do. I had tried to both move things and make a noise but to no avail. I could only become an apparition of the most hideous variety instantly. I did catch someone talking about the stories of one of my rare appearances and it sounded like I was missing my nose and one eye was hanging from an eye socket and I had fangs with a long black tongue emitting from my mouth. Again I wished I could see my countenance just once.
The Dr. made himself comfortable and appeared to be here for the night. Luckily he was facing the door and was about to nod off when I made sure to just barely catch his eye with the movement of my hand disappearing through the door and into the hallway. He jumped up with a start and a knife was in his hand rather quickly. After a short hesitation he slowly approached the door and opened it a crack. I once again showed myself and move quickly, as only a ghost can, past the door so he could just catch a glimpse of movement. He jumped back and then rushed out into the hall with knife drawn. I had by the that time gone through the wall and circled around the now empty room and waited for him to once again turn towards the open door and put his back to the railing.
He stared long and hard at the dead-end hallway and then started to turn to his left back towards the open door. This was my chance. I jumped out in all my hideous glory and gave what I thought was a stellar performance of malice, threat and evil intentions. He didn't react, he just stood there and stared at me. It took a full second for him to react and react he did. He quickly turned and ran full force into the railing which didn't break to my surprise. He was moving so fast however that he cartwheel right over the rail and fell screaming down the full four stories only hitting his arm once on the third floor which sent him spinning even faster. He fell for what seemed like ages and then hit with a satisfying thwack and never moved again. His blood quickly pooling around him started for the drain in the floor before anyone came to see what the noise was all about.
I must have been still visible as the first young lady that appeared looked first at the body and then up at me and only then started to scream and promptly fainted on the Dr.'s body. I did what I do to become invisible again and moved down the stair shaft as more people poked their heads and looked at the dead body and the damsel in distress that was now on top of said body. A few shivered as I slid past them on my way down but no one saw me. Some of the men came and rescued the fair maiden who was felled by my appearance and all returned to normal quite quickly. I was quite disappointed as no one seemed to recognize the Dr. and I
feared that my accomplishment was not to be recognized for what it was.
I never did learn if my involvement in the whole affair was appreciated or not. Shortly after I reached the bottom and was watching the men deal with the body and attempting to revive the young lady, I saw the light that many have described upon death. I rushed towards it with all my heart, and now apparently, my soul.
Chapter Eighteen:
The Current Situation
Soviet Empire October, 1946
***
All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.
Sun Tzu
***
“The Gate Crashers” by Ranger Elite
Intelligence in WWIII 1946
0230
Outside the Lubyanka Prison,
In Feliks Dzherzinsky Square,
Moscow, The U.S.S.R.
It was half past two in the morning, and there was an electric feeling in the air. Though he had been here many times before, he could not help feeling excitement and dread all at once. He had reached the most impenetrable part of the Soviet Union, having crafted as close to an impeccable and unassailable alias as humanly possible, and having had help in doing so, for himself and his team, from the Ukrainian Insurgent Army, with whom he still had contacts. The Lubyanka was, perhaps, the most guarded government building in all of the Soviet Union, obviously after the Kremlin and Stalin's personal dacha.
He took a moment and drew a deep breath, gathered up his courage and proceeded to play his part: he boldly went up to the guard post and announced himself, in Tatar-accented Russian, as NKVD Colonel Maksim Avramyevich Shtein, Special Prosecutor for Hitlerite War Crimes Against the Soviet People. This allowed him to have unfettered access to the target and the target's associates. Yes, it was a ballsy move, but it was now or never, since the target's execution date had been moved up, to the day after tomorrow. He was banking on the fact that he closely resembled the Cheka prosecutor and that not many people outside Stalin's Inner Circle knew what he actually looked like. It would take only a matter of a few days, maybe only hours, for the actual Shtein to be found, murdered, in his Arbat office.
Through the months of planning, weapons and keys had been pre-positioned, escape routes and diversions were planned, plans were devised and revised, again and again, until they knew the final plan and could execute it in their sleep. Each man was smart enough to improvise, and deviate from the plan, if they absolutely needed to. Everything that could be done had already been done in support of this operation. All that was left was the execution of the plan.
He boldly and confidently strode through the halls of the infamous prison, barking orders and making his way to the basement dungeon, where the target and his cohorts were being held, only occasionally being challenged and being passed through. As he reached the final checkpoint, he fingered the hilt of the blade strapped to his wrist, and ordered the NKVD guard to open the cell block. The guard stated that he needed permission from the guard commander to do that. As the hapless guard turned to reach for the telephone, he never saw the blade that slashed his exposed throat, causing geysers of blood to gush from the carotid artery that had just been so brutally severed. The fake NKVD officer merely stepped a safe distance away to keep the blood from splashing against his pristine uniform. As the guard finished bleeding out, he wiped the blade of his knife against the poor bastard's uniform and grabbed his keys. Before unlocking the cell door, he cut the electrical wire that connected the lock to an alarm that sounded when the key made contact with the wire. Having done that, he unlocked the cell door and announced to everyone there that they were getting out. At first, having been blinded by the dim lights from the hallway, they could now see clearly that an NKVD officer was standing before them, and they immediately thought that this would be the end of them.
As he unshackled each of them in turn, he told them that they had absolutely no time to waste, they must leave immediately or be executed on the spot. Only momentarily shocked, they readily complied and followed Shtein.
His team, having taken their supporting positions earlier, before his entry, were now in their NKVD uniforms and now joined him, armed like a guard detail, allowing for the appearance of “Shtein” transferring the high-value prisoners, presumably for final interrogation and “liquidation.” As the final member of the “guard detail” joined them, he and “Shtein” began quietly conversing, the new stranger speaking a heavily foreign-accented Russian, like a German. The prisoners certainly looked all of the pitiful part they were encouraged to play, if they were going to pull the caper off. As they neared the front gate of the Lubyanka, the first alarm began to sound and orders were given to lock down the prison. Fighting their way out had always been a part of the plan.
The fake guard detail, dragging their prisoners with them, assaulted the front gate, firing their submachine guns and automatic rifles, slowly making their way to the front gate. They braved the withering fire from the NKVD soldiers inside the prison....then there were very loud explosions that came from the front gate that concussed everyone who was within range. “Shtein” and the guard detail recovered as quickly as they could and continued to drive on to the obliterated front gate, still dragging the prisoners along, but beginning to take heavy casualties now. Quickly crossing the courtyard of the prison, they were in sight of their smoky, smoldering, ruined objective. The foreigner gave “Shtein” an order and detailed two of the “guards” to go with him. “Shtein” and his men pulled the prisoners with them, while the rest of the “guard detail” remained behind and delayed the real NKVD soldiers from catching them. It seemed that this was an integral part of the escape plan all along.
The fake NKVD officer and his men got the prisoners across the ruined gate, into the square, boarding waiting trucks which sped off into the night. During the next few days, while they were on the run, they had heard what the fate of their compatriots, that so bravely stayed behind to allow them to escape, was: Soviet propaganda claimed that in their desperate assault on Soviet order and murdering heroic Soviet soldiers in the process, they had ultimately been unsuccessful in their mission, and had all taken the coward's way out. They knew that it was all a lie. However, what was true was the identity of the dead ringleader as reported by the Soviet Pravda News Agency: the leader of the dastardly attack was none other than the infamous Otto Skorzeny, architect and commander of the Gran Sasso raid, which freed Benito Mussolini from a mountain-fortress prison and delayed complete Italian capitulation to the Allies until the end of the war. The crude photos of NKVD soldiers posing with Skorzeny's mutilated and desecrated corpse were splashed in full gory detail all across every copy of Pravda and Izvestia they came across. They all felt he deserved better.
As they crossed the Soviet frontier into China, “Shtein” took the occasion to reintroduce himself to the men he had broken out of prison, which included Wilfried Strik-Strikfeld, Helmuth von Pannwitz, Timofey Domanov, Andrei Shkuro, Pyotr Krasnov, and last but most definitely not least, Andrei Andreyevich Vlasov. These were the most influential anti-communist Russian leaders of the Russian Liberation Movement, whom the Ukrainian Insurgent Army was promised military assistance to aid in their escape from custody, and from the Soviet Union. Most of them had an idea who “Shtein” really was, but none of them had ever really met him personally. “Shtein” was none other than the renowned Abwehr spy “Artur Holmston” and commander of Sonderkommando R and the First Russian National Army, General Boris Smyslovsky.
As Smyslovsky and the other leaders of the Russian Liberation Movement reached the Chinese Turkestan city of Urum-chi, where there had already been a training facility set up and expatriate Russian troops and Soviet Red Army deserters were already being armed and formed into units. The generous American and Chinese military aid helped make all this possible, and
now they would begin to hold up their end and infiltrate the Soviet frontier, to strike at the very heart of the communist juggernaut and bring it down, for good.
“Time To Beat Feet” By Ranger Elite
Intelligence in WWIII 1946
2150
Eastern Shoreline,
Near Vladivostok, U.S.S.R.
It was getting darker sooner, and brutally colder, and their time was up. Time for them to go. Markov had spread the word among his men that they would be on the move tonight; that the fishing trawler would meet up with them at the arranged time and place, to take them to a place only he knew at this moment. To this point, he had been successful, and he hoped that it would stay that way.
All the men met up where they had stashed their boats a couple weeks before and dug them out, began inflating them for the quarter-hour trip back. Halfway through the chore, a patrol of NKVD Frontier Guards passed by them...they stopped what they were doing and hid in the shadows and hoped that nothing out of the ordinary was noticed. A short while later, the NKVD patrol went away to investigate something worthier of their malevolent attention. The men resumed, with renewed haste, their task and promptly cast off from the shoreline. During the trip out, Markov couldn't help but review the information that they had gathered in his head: there was little in the way of Red Fleet units here, as most of them had been transferred west before the war, to supplement the Baltic Sea and Black Sea Red Banner Fleets. What the Red Fleet had at its Pacific Headquarters was pathetic: an ice breaker and a motley collection of coastal gunboats, most dating back to the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-05. All the modern equipment was going to the NKVD Sea Frontier Guards. Navy men would grumble a bit about it, but never too loudly, for fear of disappearing into of one of the many infamous bottomless salt mines that the region was notorious for. As for the Red Army, there were mostly Category B units, mostly manned by invalids from the last war, still wishing to continue doing their patriotic duty. Who was Uncle Joe to deny them that? All the first-line Army units were either west, occupying Europe, or in Manchuria, training the Chinese communists, who got walloped shortly after the new Chinese president, came to power. The Red Chinese took a hard hit, but the rumor has it that they're gearing up for a counteroffensive, and just received tons of captured equipment from western Europe that they're trying to make usable...
World War Three 1946 Series Boxed Set: Stalin Strikes First Page 75
