A Walk Among the Dead

by Fanning, Fred

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kurt Howler had his right arm stretched out leaning on the front door. He was a rotund man, with a wisp of a mustache, and thick glasses. He was eager to please everyone around him and went along with whatever was being said or done. Pleased with his latest feat, he placed a call to Reinhardt, his boss.

  “Hello Reinhardt here,” he said.

  “Reinhardt, it is Kurt. We took care of the old man.”

  “Did you find the envelope?”

  “Sorry no.”

  “Did you search everywhere?”

  “Yes, we tore the place apart and nothing. Was anything reported in the local paper or radio?”

  “You’re both idiots. You killed him and burned the apartment and we don’t have what we are searching for. You may have destroyed it in your haste! Keep an eye on the flat and let me know who comes and goes. I will call you at the farm later.”

  “Got it and again, I am sorry.”

  With the primary location destroyed and perhaps the information with it, the team had to regroup and develop an alternate plan. The wife and son were still alive. Surely they must know something. Reinhardt looked at Freda Stern, who had a blank stare.

  Freda Stern was a police officer in Berlin. She was fired last year for stealing evidence and coercing false statements. Since then she has fallen in with former East German Police, who have turned to crime to make a living. She was working with Reinhardt to discover money that disappeared after the end of World War II.

  “Freda, where else do you think von Manntoell might have hidden the information we want?”

  “Let me think. We know they don’t own any other property. The wife does have a sister. The son Johann lives on church property. I believe we have two possible locations for the information. We need to search them both.”

  “Brilliant. Freda, please put together a plan that Kurt and Günter can use to check both places. What should we do with Helga’s sister?”

  “We question her, get any information we can and eliminate her.”

  “Yes, yes I agree. No loose ends.”

  Freda left Reinhardt in his den. He may have been the leader, but he was obviously not the smartest member of the group. Freda, though young, had worked her way up the ladder in the group through a skillful and cutthroat plan to be its leader. She was only a few steps away now but would wait for this mission to be completed before she took the last effort to gain control. Kurt and Günter had foiled her previous plan so she made the next plan simple so they would be able to carry it out.

  As she thought to herself, she weighed the pros and cons of a search of Käthe’s home. She determined there was little risk for the team. The aunt lived in a small village with no local police. She had to confirm that the police were not suspicious and wondered if the group was in danger. To find out she called an old friend.

  “Hello may I speak to Officer Hammer?” she asked.

  “One moment, please. Officer Hammer is out on patrol; can I take a message for him?” asked the operator.

  “Yes, have him call Freda. He knows the number.”

  “I will deliver the message to him,” the operator said.

  The operator was a little surprised that Freda used her real name when calling Officer Hammer. Freda had also been a police officer but was fired for criminal behavior. Everyone thought she got off light. It might go bad for Hammer if his supervisor found out he still saw Freda.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Silke Mencken, a young investigative journalist, picked up the phone and listened intently to an editor friend. She quickly hung up the phone, went directly to her car and drove to a burned flat in the district of Dahlem to see what was being said by the neighbors. The flats in this building were owned by the people living there. Some had resided there for decades. She parked out front and found the building open. She began walking up the stairs when she met a woman.

  “What a terrible fire,” Silke said.

  “Yes, and a good man died. I think it was a gas leak. I have complained about a gas leak in this building for years and no one does anything about it,” the woman replied.

  “Oh my, a man died in the fire?” asked Silke.

  “Yes, Hans, a good person, and a retired gardener,” said the woman.

  “Sounds sad,” said Silke. Silke continued walking the stairs and saw another woman carrying groceries up to her flat.

  “I couldn’t help notice the fire in the flat upstairs,” Silke said.

  “My yes. Hans must have been smoking and caught the place on fire. He cared for the garden outside for no charge. Now I don’t know what we will do,” she said. Silke continued walking the stairs and noticed a man sitting on the steps.

  “Did you know the man that died in the fire in the flat upstairs?” Silke asked.

  “Yes…yes, I did,” said the man.

  “What was he like?” Silke asked.

  “Like the rest of us retired living on a pension,” the man said.

  “What do you think caused the fire?” she asked.

  “Don’t know…honestly don’t know,” he answered. Silke reached the floor of the fire she pushed open the broken door and stepped under the police tape. She was surprised to find the apartment was only damaged around what looked like the master bedroom. The ceiling and carpet in most of the flat were also damaged when putting the fire out. She looked around but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She left the flat and walked to the set of stairs at that other end of the building. As she stepped outside, she saw a small coffee shop with a few tables outside. She walked there and seated herself in a sunny corner. She ordered a small coffee. When the waiter brought the cup, Silke said, “I heard about the flat fire just across the street.”

  “Yes I heard about it too,” said the waiter.

  “Did you know the family?”

  “Not really,” the waiter said. “The old man came down for tea most days but sat reading the paper. Don’t recall speaking to him, ever.”

  “I heard it was a gas leak,” Silke said.

  “What?” the waiter asked.

  “I heard the fire was started by a gas leak,” Silke said.

  “Not likely. Those buildings are all electric,” said the waiter.

  “I also heard it might have been the old man smoking,” Silke added.

  “Don’t believe I ever saw him smoke in all the years he came here,” the waiter said.

  “Well it is a sad story just the same,” Silke added.

  “It is that,” said the waiter as he walked back into the small café.

  Silke sat there looking up at the smoke-stained windows of the flat. She couldn’t help but think there wasn’t much interest in a fire that resulted in a man’s death. This left her suspicious, too suspicious. She walked casually across the street and up to the front door of the building. She found the door locked this time. She looked at the names of the residents on the door and rang the buzzer for “Frau Hogarth.” Frau Hogarth rang the buzzer to open the door for her without question.

  As Silke entered the building, Frau Hogarth yelled: “Who’s there?”

  “Just me, Frau Hogarth. Forgot my key again,” said Silke.

  This was a prank she had played as a little girl. She was a little surprised it still worked. Frau Hogarth shouted back for her to be more careful, but didn’t ask her who she was. It was obvious the building wasn’t very secure. Silke made her way up the stairs to the von Manntoell flat. She pushed the door back and stepped under the police tape as she had done before. As she entered the flat, she was struck on the back of her head, knocking her out. A large bump raised on her head and blood came from the abrasive wound.

  “I hope you didn’t hit her too hard,” said Kurt.

  “No, she’ll be okay,” said Günter.

  Günter then put a napkin in her mouth and taped it shut by running tape around her head. He tied her hands and feet with a phone cord. He and Kurt rolled her up in a rug and carried her down the stairs to a van parked
on the side of the building.

  When she regained consciousness, she was unable to see where she was. She could feel something around her that prevented her from moving. She could tell that she was in a vehicle by the movements and engine hum. Her heart raced and head pounded. She kept thinking about how to calm herself. If she could keep herself calm, she would have a better chance of living through this. She knew she had stumbled into something more than an ordinary fire. You don’t kidnap someone looking at a home fire.

  Suddenly the vehicle slowed and made a sharp right turn. An abrupt stop caused her to roll to one side. She was lifted out of the vehicle and dropped on the gravel floor of an old farm barn. After being removed from the carpet, someone kicked her repeatedly in the gut. The pain was beyond imagination. She couldn’t take anymore and passed out on the gravel floor of the barn. Günter kicked her one last time for good measure. He and Kurt double checked the cord used to tie her up.

  Satisfied she was secure, they closed the barn door and walked to the farmhouse. Kurt and Günter had located this old farm house that wasn’t being used by its owner. They had the good fortune of convincing him to rent it to them for a getaway from the city. The farmhouse and barn were secluded behind trees and surrounded by farm fields. The location was a perfect hideout for criminals. Once inside the house, Kurt made a quick phone call.

  “Hello, Reinhardt here.”

  “Reinhardt, it is Kurt. While we were watching the flat, a woman was snooping around. We got her, she is bound in the barn.

  “Good work, Kurt,” Reinhardt said. “Give her a day or two to suffer and then find out why she is so interested in the fire and death of von Manntoell.”.

  “We will take care of everything, don’t worry,” said Kurt.

  “Don’t screw this up,” barked Reinhardt.

  “We won’t.”

  Kurt hung up the phone, walked back into the living room, and slumped into a chair.

  “Günter, he is still mad at us for killing von Manntoell,” moaned Kurt.

  “It’s okay, once we get the envelope he’ll forget all about it.”

  The two sat on the couch watching soccer and drinking beer. They had a little time on their hands and made sure they enjoyed themselves.

  Back in the barn, Silke was awake but groggy. The pain in her gut was unbearable. She tried to lie quietly so as not to draw attention. For all she knew her kidnapper was just a few feet away. It was going to be a long night, but she would have to stay awake and aware to survive. She drifted in and out of consciousness.

  She finally awoke to the patter of rain. Fall in Germany often brought overnight drizzle with lower temperatures. She was cold now and that made her suffering worse. She didn’t know where she was or how long it had been since she was taken. Kurt and Günter slept through the day. They awoke about sundown.

  A loud bang came from her left as she heard someone walking towards her. Someone grabbed and jerked the cord binding her hands and feet and then she felt a hard blow to her head. That immediately knocked her out. Günter was a bit of a sadist and kicked her in the back too. He walked back to the house reporting to Kurt that she was still tied and unconscious.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Günter walked back out to the barn, pulled the van out and shut the barn door before pulling up to the farm house. Kurt jumped in and handed Günter a cup of coffee. Both settled in for the drive. They pulled out from the farmhouse and drove down the isolated country roads towards the city. Once there, they filled the van with fuel and grabbed two bottles of juice for the road. The two men chain smoked non-filtered cigarettes as they drove. Both were addicted to nicotine, but in their line of work, cigarettes were great for controlling nerves. Where they were going, nerves could get them killed. They drove early in the evening, arriving in the city just after dark. They found a parking spot under the street light they had broken a few days before. There they waited.

  The wait paid off. A man in a dark trench coat walked out of a house just in front and across the street from them. Günter raised a machine pistol with a silencer and took aim. The man appeared to be out for his evening walk and unaware of the danger just yards away. With no one else in sight, Günter pulled the trigger. The man dropped to the ground with a slight moan. No one took notice and the neighborhood was still and quiet. Kurt started the van, slowly pulled out of the parking space and drove down the street as if nothing had happened. A few blocks away he sped up a little and headed out of the city. Both he and Günter looked at each other and smiled. Günter pounded his right thigh with his fist repeating YES, YES. The duo started on their way back to the barn.

  As Günter and Kurt drove out of the city, Kurt asked, “Won’t Freda and Reinhardt be mad at us for killing a police inspector?”

  “I don’t care. Albrecht has been after us since we were in the East German Police,” he shouted.

  “But, Günter, Freda doesn’t like things outside the plan,” Kurt said.

  “Damn her,” he grunted.

  They both sat quietly for the rest of the drive.

  After arriving at the farm house, they got out of the vehicle and stretched as they laughed and shook their heads. They were both running on adrenaline. Kurt nodded to Günter to check on Silke. Günter smiled and winked at Kurt as he walked towards the barn. Günter’s smile grew wider as he grabbed the cord on Silka’s hand and feet. They were still secure. With that done, he couldn’t resist another kick, this time to her lower back. Silke screamed in pain.

  “So you are conscious are you?” asked Günter. He then kicked her in the head, knocking her out again. He quickly checked her pulse and breathing to make sure she was still alive. Satisfied that she was, he strolled towards the house with his head high. This had been a good day, no, it had been an excellent day.

  Günter could smell cooking sausage as he walked into the house. He breathed the air. Sausage and potatoes being cooked were the greatest smells on earth. As Kurt prepared the food, he handed Günter a beer.

  “Let’s have a good meal and get a good night’s sleep. We can interrogate the woman in the morning,” Kurt said.

  “Yes, that is an excellent plan,” answered Günter with a wry grin.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was a quiet evening in a rural neighborhood in the forested areas of Berlin’s Dahlem District. The temperature was moderate and many residents opened their windows to take advantage of the fresh air. The man lying on the sidewalk regained consciousness and started yelling for help. Lights came on around the neighborhood. A lady stepped out of her home and screamed. A quick-thinking neighbor was on the phone in an instant calling for medical assistance. The woman walked briskly towards the man and sat on the ground beside him, placing his head on her lap. The neighbor yelled out that he had called for help. It was too dark for anyone to notice the blood flowing onto the ground. No one pressed the wound or tried to stop the blood.

  Within minutes, the ambulance arrived and shined their lights on the victim. It was then the woman saw the blood. She screamed so loudly the whole neighborhood heard her. The medical technicians and the emergency doctor worked to stop the bleeding. Once that was achieved, they put the victim on a stretcher and into the ambulance. As this was being done a policeman arrived on the scene and began caring for the woman. She was still screaming and crying uncontrollably.

  A second policeman pooled the neighbors standing around to find out what they had seen and heard. First was Dr. Wilhelm Braun. He had heard a man screaming for help. He looked out the window and saw the woman from the house next door running towards the man. He then called for medical assistance. Second was Frau Wolfgang Schwartz. She heard a man scream, and as she looked out the window, she saw a woman running towards the man and also heard Dr. Braun yell that he had called for assistance. It went on like this with the residents of the other nearby houses. A third officer had retrieved the victim’s wallet from the ambulance driver and was looking through it for identification. As he opened the leather flap of the wall
et, he saw a badge. His eyes grew big and he went to his car radio.

  “Dispatch this is 2-12,” he said.

  “2-12, dispatch go ahead.”

  “2-12 requires a supervisor on the scene at 9 Rehkitzsteig in Dahlem, out.”

  “Roger 2-12.”

  The victim’s badge was for an Inspector. When the policeman looked at the picture, and down at the victim’s face, he recognized it was Inspector Werner Albrecht. He recognized the strong chin, dark hair, and trench coat of the inspector. He was shocked. Who could have shot the inspector and why? He knew his career was at stake and hoped the supervisor could help with the political implications of this event.

  “Dispatch this is 2-12.”

  “Go-ahead 2-12.”

  “Request security for shooting victim at the clinic.”

  “Roger, 2-12 protection for shooting victim will be at the clinic.” The dispatcher couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. This was more than just a shooting. As the first police officer on the scene, Officer Hammer sent car 2-14 to the clinic with the victim’s wife.

  “Dispatch this is 2-14,” stated the officer.

  “Go ahead,” replied the dispatcher.

  “2-14 in route to the clinic with the victim’s wife.”

  “Roger that 2-14.”

  As the ambulance pulled into the emergency dock of the Oskar-Helene-Heim clinic, Officer Mueller and Frau Albrecht watched as the Inspector was taken to the emergency room. Officer Mueller stood guard outside the room while Frau Albrecht watched through the glass. The doctors and nurses ran around the room hooking up equipment, administering medication, and taking x-rays. The inspector was immediately taken to surgery to remove the bullet. Frau Albrecht was ushered to a private room to wait. She was beside herself with worry and crying uncontrollably. A minister stopped by to speak to her. He brought her a warm cup of tea and she calmed down. The two talked as the clinic team worked frantically in surgery to save her husband’s life.