by Tony Roberts
“I should think so, Serge. We’ll be on our way as soon as we get freed from your beast.”
A few moments later two trucks with two groups of noisy, chain-smoking mechanics turned up. They roughly pulled the Char B’s turret off, using oxy-acetylene and a chain winch. The four Frenchmen were escorted away under guard, and Langer and his crew piled into the panzer and roared out of the fields back onto the road in the wake of their division.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Amiens. The great French cathedral city on the River Somme, a hub of the French railway network in northern France. Whoever controlled Amiens controlled the gateway to Flanders, or indeed the gateway to the rest of France, depending from which direction you were coming.
The Germans had stopped along the line of the Somme except to push out into a few bridgeheads, ready for the advance into the rest of the country, and one of these bridgeheads was at Amiens so that both sides of the river at that point were under German control.
Here and in the countryside leading up to the river, the tired and spent units were allowed a few days rest to catch up with sleep, recover from minor wounds, and have their supplies and equipment replaced or restocked. The panzers, too, were given an overhaul and all those that could still move were patched up and returned to their units. Even so, the regiment was a shadow of its former self, being down to less than half of what they had started out with.
For Leutnant Erich Farben, he was now within touching distance of his quarry; he felt it. He knew the 3rd Panzer Division was here, having finally deciphered the baffling and often contradictory orders that had sent the division first here, then there. Ultimately Farben had used his authority from Heydrich to discover that the division was with Army Group A and was shortly to be sent to a point opposite Rheims where they would be sent over the river and ordered to make for Dijon. Funny just what some papers allowed you to learn. Farben doubted any of the men in the 3rd division even knew that they were going to be switched the following day.
So now, here in the early evening, he checked into a vacant hotel and gathered his thoughts. He would have to present himself to the divisional commander, Generalleutnant Horst Stumpf, who was also in Amiens at this moment, in Henriville, the quarter to the south of the river. There had been some bomb damage to Amiens when the British forces defending the city had been attacked a few days ago, but they had been ejected before too much damage had been done.
He was relieved to see that the place Stumpf was based in, L’Hotel Picarde, was a short walk from the hotel where he was. He called Gertrude from the adjoining room and informed her he was going to speak with the Generalleutnant, and that she was to arrange the contact point and time. As an aid, she was given the authorization from Heydrich to help smooth any problems that may occur. She was to ensure the meeting happened that evening before the division was sent eastwards.
Gertrude assured him she would be back within the hour. She took the elevator down to the ground floor, and then made for the public telephone booth in the foyer. Predictably, it was apparently out of order but a short abrupt burst of German down the line brought it into life. She rattled out a number she was to be connected to and within five minutes a voice came through the earpiece.
The conversation took a couple of minutes, and she listened and nodded. To anyone passing by they would not have understood the language as it was not one that had been used for centuries, and never in this part of the world. Gertrude nodded before hanging up. Now she dialed L’Hotel Picarde and demanded to speak to Stumpf by orders of Reinhardt Heydrich himself.
Langer was intrigued to get an order, passed to him by one of the camp orderlies. It was on official paper and it was a summons to Amiens, to a Hotel Europa in Saint-Acheul, where he was to present himself to a representative of the divisional headquarters. No questions, no delay. He was to come now. Langer was puzzled, and more than a little worried. These sorts of things generally didn’t bode well, but the two guards with the orderly weren’t here to speak to him or to pass the time of day. They were escorts.
With an air of resignation Langer stepped into the kubelwagen and was driven out of the camp towards the city just as darkness was falling.
The phone in Farben’s room rang. He picked it up. “Yes? Ah, Gertrude, you have arranged it? Excellent. Where? The Hotel Europa? Where’s that? Oh, you’ll drive me there? Good. When? Ah, I see. One hour. Very well. I suppose the Generalleutnant has his hands full. Yes, yes. Pass on my compliments and that I shall not take up more than a few minutes of his time. In one hour. Good.”
He put the phone down and decided to clean himself up. It would be best to look as smart and clean as possible when speaking to a senior army officer. It always helped.
Langer looked out of the open-topped vehicle as they sped through the suburbs of Amiens. The two guards sat either side of him and he was properly wedged in. The driver in the front carefully negotiated through the road checkpoints and skirted the areas that were closed due to bomb damage. Langer was interested to see that the papers presented by the driver got them through any checkpoint without too much of a delay. Whoever wanted him was pretty important.
The Hotel was an imposing five story gothic looking construction, built in the nineteenth century by the look of things, and Langer was escorted into the foyer by the two guards who took him to the elevator, and then left him to go up to the third floor. “Room 305,” one of them said, and closed the door.
“Very secret indeed,” Langer muttered to himself as the elevator whirred up to the third and stopped. He pushed open the concertina style grille door and looked about himself. Faded red colored carpet, fancy wooden handrail up the stairs that ran round the elevator shaft, and a series of doors along the corridors that ran off the landing. 301 followed by 302 and so on.
Langer knocked on 305, wondering what the hell was going on. No guards, no sign of anyone. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood up. A woman’s voice invited him in. A woman? The room was reasonably plush but not ostentatiously so. No doubt in the months to come general staff would stay here along with those who co-operated with the new regime. Two doors led off to the left, one a bathroom, the other a bedroom.
“I’m in here,” the female voice said, somewhat softly, in German.
Langer slowly pushed open the bedroom door. A large bed met his eyes, and lying in it, under the sheets, was a woman. A blonde haired female with a seductive smile on her face. “What is all this, ma’am? I get a summons from camp, all secret, and so I get sent here to find – you, all alone in bed. What gives?”
“I’ll tell you once you’re in bed with me. Take your clothes off.”
“That sounded like an order. No way, ma’am. Forgive me but I’m a bit too experienced to fall for that. You’re up to something odd, and I want to know how the hell you managed to get me brought here using official paperwork.”
The woman sighed. “Typical isn’t it? Here I am, giving myself to you on a plate and you turn me down. Oh, very well.” She slipped out of bed, wearing a pair of stockings, a suspender belt and nothing else. Langer had to admire her; she was gorgeous, but females could be as deadly as any man, and maybe even more so, so he stood where he was and watched as she came up to him slowly. “I’m here to arrange for your arrest, did you know that, Carl Langer – or should I say, Carlos Romano?”
Langer’s heart skipped a beat. “What – what did you call me?” He looked about just in case anyone was bursting in, but nobody was. He went back into the main room, made sure it was empty, and then locked the door. He checked the bathroom too, but this was as empty.
He found the woman sat on the bed, legs crossed. He couldn’t help but look at her. She was very desirable, but he was on his guard. “Alright, let me say that should any shit happen, I’ll be at you before anyone can get to me.”
“Oh, don’t worry about anything like that,” she smiled, “I’m here to help you escape. You see, I’m supposed to be working for a policeman who’s on your trail for the murder of that
man Gutierrez back in Berlin, you know, the Spanish assassin?”
“Oh, shit. That!”
“Yes, that. So, he’s a determined man and is here in Amiens. He’s going to see your divisional commander with an arrest warrant and have you brought to him under guard.”
“Wait a minute,” Langer pointed at her, “so what’s this all about then? And who the hell are you?”
“My name is Gertrude and I work for Reinhardt Heydrich’s department. He loaned me to this policeman to assist him in his enquiries, but I don’t really want you to be arrested for what you did. After all, this Spaniard was a communist, wasn’t he? I don’t like them, either.”
Langer frowned and stared at Gertrude. “So why dress – or undress – like this?”
“Oh, I hear you’re a bit of a ladies man, and I thought why not have a taste of it? If you fuck me good enough I’ll inform my boss that you died on campaign and that the enquiries are at an end.”
“And if I refuse?”
Gertrude pouted. “Would you kill me? Especially undressed like this?”
“Uh, ah….oh stop that, woman. I know what you’re trying to do! This is dumb – my freedom bought by a screw?”
“A very good one, Langer. Surely you can pleasure me sufficiently to make me want to ensure your escape?”
“And if I do and you then decide to turn me in?” Langer glanced at the window. It was curtained and he went over to it and peered out. The street outside was deserted.
“I’m to go to my boss in forty-five minutes. What do I tell him?”
“Forty-five minutes? For Christ’s sake!”
Gertrude slid off the bed and walked up to him. “Then make love to me. Now!”
“Oh, fuck,” Langer said and pulled her to him and kissed her long and hard. Gertrude sighed and kissed him back, her tongue eager and searching. Langer had of course done it with so many women in his time he’d lost count and forgotten most, with a few exceptions. Gertrude wasn’t the most memorable, but she was one of the most enthusiastic and assertive. She did the riding, screaming out in pleasure, and Langer merely had to lie back and enjoy the ride.
Afterwards she collapsed onto his chest and lay there panting for a while, her sweat cooling. Langer knew it hadn’t been faked; she’d enjoyed it alright. “So?”
“Mmmm… so….. you pass. That was so good. I wish we had more time…but, that is short and I must go. Let me clean up. Go back downstairs and you’ll be taken back to camp. No questions, no consequences. Enjoy the war, Feldwebel Langer, it promises to be a long one.”
“And you? What happens to you?” Langer got out of bed and began dressing.
Gertrude smiled, propping herself up on one elbow. “I shall continue to work in the Reichschancellery. We shall probably never see each other again. I did enjoy our brief liaison. Farewell.”
Langer shrugged, put on his jacket, then bent and kissed her. Gertrude eagerly kissed him back, then pushed him away. “Go, go now!"
“This is one of the weirdest moments of the war, and that’s saying something with Gus in my crew,” Langer muttered and left, wondering what the hell was waiting for him downstairs. He had little choice as he saw it, if the police forces of the Reich were seeking him in connection with the killing of Gutierrez he had to play ball. He hoped to hell Gertrude was as good as her word; she did know his previous alias so she had to be in on the investigation, else why could she possibly know who he’d been before getting his current identity?
The two guards were waiting for him in the foyer and they smartly got on either side of him wordlessly. Without a word they began marching out of the hotel, then round the corner to where the kubelwagen was waiting.
From her window high above the street Gertrude watched as the three men disappeared round the corner, a smile on her lips. “Good luck, Longinus,” she whispered. She had work to do. Dressing quickly she made her way down to the ground floor and approached the nervous concierge. A Frenchman, he was hoping the new occupying army treated him and his family – and his hotel – kindly. If he behaved impeccably then perhaps all would be well. He would do his utmost to follow every command by these crazy Germans, even if the command was unusual to say the least.
He had the package for the lady, yes, it had been delivered less than an hour ago by an unknown gentleman who had said only that it had to be handed over with the suitable password.
Gertrude nodded. It was expected. “Longinus,” she said. The package was wrapped in canvas and was heavy for its size. She knew what it was. She left, not intending to return. Her car – or, rather, the police force’s car – was where she’d left it, and she drove to Farben’s hotel.
Farben was impatient; it was getting late and time was getting short. “What kept you? Why have you returned to my room?”
Gertrude said nothing. She unwrapped the canvas package and suddenly was holding a Walther pistol with a silencer in her hand. She flicked off the safety and pointed the weapon at Farben who had gone very still indeed, his eyes staring at the evil black muzzle of the silencer.
“What – is this?” he said slowly, wondering what was going to happen. If he could get close to her….
“Shut up and sit down on the bed.” Her voice was harsh and businesslike. Not one to argue with. Farben sat on the edge of the bed and gathered his legs underneath himself, tensing. He would have to try to spring at her. It did look as though she intended to kill him – but why?
“No doubt you wish to know what this is all about,” Gertrude said.
“Yes.”
“Too bad. I’m not going to,” and she shot him through the chest. Twice. Farben pitched back onto the bed and lay there, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, pain dulling them. As his body shut down, his mind thought of his wife, and what would happen to her. Then there was nothing.
Gertrude lowered the pistol and breathed out slowly. One part of her job was done. Not something she really had wished to do, but Farben had made himself a nuisance and had to die. That part of Longinus’ secrecy was secured, now to return to Berlin and burn the file in Heydrich’s office. Fortunately Heydrich was no longer interested in Gestapo activities – he was being put in charge of something completely different. His attention would be elsewhere. She would have to kill one other however, Farben’s Gestapo contact Marks, but he would be easy. A promise of seduction and an easy lure to a seedy hotel, a quick stabbing and then her job was done.
Her travel documents to Austria were already in place and it would be a quick journey to Switzerland and safety. She would then have done her bit and it would be time to get out before someone discovered her activities. Her contact would be here soon to dispose of Farben’s body and leave it somewhere close to a battlefield. It would be the inevitable conclusion that he had been killed by getting too close to the fighting, stupid man. But what of his chauffeuse, Gertrude? The search would be on for her so she had only a short time to complete her mission.
It was worth it, though. If the safety of Casca Longinus was the price to pay, that was. He had no idea that he had a guardian angel, and so it should remain. She smiled again. What would her fellow family members think if she told them she had made love to their legendary family founder? They would be scandalized, no doubt, and perhaps she would be kicked out. No, that little detail would never be told. She had always wished to meet the man who she’d been told about since she had been old enough to understand. The man who had lived for centuries, who had founded their family – or adopted them, to be accurate. The Longini.
She was Austrian, but had links to an Italian past. Isabella Longini was her true name, a descendant of Licinus and Delia Longinus. She knew all about her heritage, and had promised to protect Casca from the Brotherhood of the Lamb. So in secret the Longini worked against the Brotherhood, thwarting them here and there, just little bits, nothing big or spectacular. They were not that numerous, and should the Brotherhood ever discover them, then surely that would be a disaster. So things had to be done carefully a
nd gently.
She left the room and the dead Farben, and the pistol with its silencer lying next to him. She had a job to do in Berlin, so she went down to the ground floor and left the building.
Next stop, Berlin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“So where did you go, my pretty?” Gus demanded, his huge bare feet sticking out of the bottom of his rough bed when Langer returned. “Berlin?”
“No,” Langer said, throwing himself onto the collection of blankets and sheets that denoted his sleeping post. “Amiens. Some stunning blonde ravished me and then let me go.”
The others laughed and made coarse comments. Langer grinned. It sounded totally made up, yet it had been the absolute truth. Gus snorted. “You’re one of these dreamers, Carl, who thinks they’ve got a girl in every village. What’s your ambition, to hump your way through Europe?”
“Who said my ambitions stop at Europe?” Langer said and slid his cap over his face, determined to get what sleep he could. The others laughed.
“Hah!” Gus said, throwing himself back onto his bed, “wait till I get started. There’ll be thousands of little Gus’s populating the world once this war ends.”
With that unsettling thought, Langer went to sleep.
* * *
The next day they were sent east to join Army Group A opposite Rheims. A few panzers broke down on the journey, but they had been put through some punishment over the past few weeks. They had driven through Belgium, fought two very hard battles against the best France could throw at them, then plunged into France, bottled up the British in Dunkirk and watched impotently as they had achieved the impossible and gotten 330,000 off the beaches from under the panzers’ noses. Still, that had freed their rear and now were poised on the river lines to finish France off now it had been abandoned by the British to die alone.
“Ah,” Gus said, reclining on the panzer during one halt for lunch. The road was shaded by rows of trees and they were protected from roving enemy planes as well as the sun. “Do you know why French roads are tree-lined?”
