Breakthrough (The Red Gambit Series) (65 page)

The men didn’t understand what was going on but went with whatever their senior officer was trying to do.

Von Arnesen looked at Kowalski, and then returned his gaze to the young Walter.

“So, Walter, now that the Hauptsturmfuhrer’s father has his new leg, is he able to walk the
dog again?”

The young soldier was confused for a moment, his furrowed brow and gaze at the former SS
Hauptsturmfuhrer beside him
betraying him momentarily.
The officer shrugged and smiled, motioning with his head in silent encouragement.

“Well actually, Sturmbannfuhrer, Herr
Fenstermacher
managed a full walk around the park only last week.”

Now Kowalski couldn’t help himself.

“May I ask something, Commandant?”

Von Arnesen grinned and gestured with his head, at the same time accepting a
fruit
pastry
from the other private.

“Soldier, can I ask, which leg and what is the dog?”

“Herr
Fenstermacher
lost his right leg at the Battle of
Dogger Bank in 1915
, Sir. His dog is a Weimaraner called
Blucher, named
after his ship that day.”

Von Arnesen chose his words carefully.

“Herr Maior, these men know each other, each other’s families, and the history behind each man.”

He looked around the quiet group.

“Each of these men has
a relationship with
the man by his side, regardless of rank. These men have a bond beyond that of a normal soldier.”

Von Arnesen shot to his feet.

“Stillgestanden!”

The entire mess room came to their feet
, rigidly at the attention. The sound of scrpaed chairs and clicked heels echoed in the mess,
and then all was silent.

“Hauptscharfuhrer Dietmar Olsen. Schutz Walter Riedler is a holder of the Iron Cross First Class, is he not?”

“
Jawohl
,
Sturm
bannfuhrer.”

Von Arnesen
nodded gently as he
continued.

“How did he earn the award?”

“Riedler single-handedly counter-attacked a trench that had been
captured
by Soviet soldiers,
saving the lives of two
comrades
who had been captured and were about to be executed. In the process, he engaged eight men in single combat, killing three, wounding two more, and driving the survivors off, restoring the position to German control. It was his second action, Sturmbannfuhrer.”

Walter Riedler was actually blushing with embarrassment.

“Who were the two men he saved that day?”

Olsen looked Von Arnesen in the eye, the faintest glimmer of a smile flickering at the side of his mouth.

“You and I, Sturmbannfuhrer.”

“As you were,” declared Von Arnesen,
nodding at Olsen as
he resumed
his seat, closely followed by everyone else.

“How is your sister Lottie anyway, young Riedler?”

“Very well, thank you, Sturmbannfuhrer.
I should have a niece or nephew before Christmas day.
”

Von Arnesen smiled at Kowalski, having just shown him a number of reasons why his men were the best of the best
, with an esprit de corps second to none
.

He reinforced the message.

“Political ideology plays
its part at first,
” he conceded, “B
ut it
is
always the comrades by your side, those
men wit
h whom you share
everything, that inspire
you. It is unthinkable to let down a comrade, even unto death, and we are all comrades here!”

Kowalski got it.

The last of the
fruit
pastry
disappeared
,
and Von Arnesen showed his pleasure by licking his lips noisily.

A
senior
Legionnaire non-com strode purposefully into the mess and presented himself to
Von Arnesen
, his exaggerated salute interrupting the wiping away of sticky sweet residue around
the officer
’s mouth.

“Sir, you asked to be informed when Colonel Knocke has returned. He is in his office.”

Placing his serviette on the table,
Von Arnesen
stifled a belch.

“Thank you
,
Braun. We will be there directly.”

The NCO fired off another salute, turned on his heel and strode purposefully away, intending to visit himself up
on his Regimental Headquarters F
lak section, which had incurred his wrath that very morning over the important matter of dirt on a gun sight.

Von Arnesen
and Kowalski walked back to the headquarters building
, discussing the recent thigh wound that had given the German a lame gait,
and entered through the main door,
watched but
unchallenged by the two legionnaires standing guard.

Inside, the uninitiated might have seen chaos, but to the two military men it was organised high-pace activity, as staff personnel laboured long and hard to get the Brigade organised and ready for its next deployment.

A female officer wearing
the uniform of the Free French approached
the Legion officer
,
proffering
a clipboard for his attention.

“Excuse me a moment,”
Von Arnesen
accepted
the
report and swiftly took in its contents before adding a comment and signing off on it.

Whilst he waited, Kowalski’s eyes swept the room, avidly taking in details from the charts and maps on the walls, noticing the uniforms of the Legion and the hated SS melded together
betraying
thos
e
of
German
origin
,
and pure French uniforms
indicating
those
who were French Army proper.

The second woman in the room was a different matter to the plain and nondescript officer who had approached Uhlmann.

She was a raven-haired beauty who made the uniform of a French Capitaine look extremely sexy, even when
half-hidden
behind
a desk straining under the weight of files.

Her eyes flicked up, holding his for a second, the brief contact broken when she nodded
at him
and bent herself again to the task she was undertaking.

“Always important to make sure we have enough paper clips
,
Major.”

Von Arnesen’s
slap on the shoulder interrupted a stirring in the GRU officer’s mind, the briefest of fl
irtations with his memory bank.

The moment was gone.

Von Arnesen
led the way through the throng and into the outer office, staffed by three legionnaires and two officers, one of each kind according to their uniforms.

“Good afternoon Capitaine Thiessen, Major Kowalski to see the Colonel, and
he
is expected.”

Thiessen nodded pleasantly.

“One moment please.”

He knocked on a bright red door and entered immediately, emerging quickly and inviting the Polish officer forward.

The door shut behind Kowalski and he found himself alone with Knocke.

Knocke, immaculately dressed as always, s
tood at the window, appearing to examine everything in sight with a professional eye,.

He turned sharply.

“Please sit
,
Herr Maior,” the ‘please’ escaping Knocke’s lips in such a way as to indicate that the German was experiencing an inner struggle.

When both were seated, the modest desk
forming
a ‘No Man’s land’ between them
, Knocke
deliberately lit a cigarette and sat in silence, his eyes challenging the man opposite.

“I received your positive reply, Knocke. My superio
r
s are pleased and have ordered me to tell you that
all three are safe and well. They
will not be harmed if you do as you are told.”

Knocke sat impassively now, his emotions clearly under control.

“This is all about information. You provide it to me and that, plus my continued safety, ensures that your wife and daughters will continue to enjoy a comfortable life.”

The GRU agent stopped, expecting some sort of response from the German. None was forthcoming
,
and he felt strangely uneasy.

“I will
give you the details of a
reporting line
,” he tapped his jacket pocket
,
“But
I will
also
visit and take my information away
in person
when
I can.”

The feeling of unease deepened as the unblinking eyes held their line, boring into him at every opportunity.

He decided to establish his superiority.

“Knocke, I am not easily intimidated
,
and the silent game doesn’t impress me.
I
hold the cards here
. Y
ou would do well to remember that.”

Taking a quick breath, anxious to press on, Kowalski stood.

“As a token of your compliance, I require some information now. When I leave this office
,
I want the f
u
ll order of battle of this unit.”

He moved off to the window, placing himself in the precise position the German had been stood when he entered.

As if to establish his superiority further, Kowalski
recalled some
conversation from the legion mess, adding
almost as an after-thought, “
I already know of your impending deployment to
Augsburg
,
and
of the
subsequent counter-attack obviously, and more details of that will be needed before you move off.”

Turning back to the desk, he resumed his seat.

Knocke finally spoke.

“I will require proof that they are alive.”

Kowalski leant forward, broaching the barrier of the desk.

“You
require? You require? You request is what you mean
,
Knocke.”

The German stubbed out his cigarette and wiped an imaginary speck of ash from his sleeve.

“Require, request, whatever
word you choose,
Herr Maior. The end result will be
the same. Without proof, my usefulness to your superiors is nil. You supply irrefutable proof
,
and I will play your games.”

Kowalski realised that he had lost the initiative.

“There is already a plan to provide you with proof, but it will take some time to implement
,
Knocke.”

A nod of acceptance was all that was forthcoming.

“However, my superiors have needs that must be satisfied now. A token of your compliance
,
such as I have requested.”

Knocke opened a folder on the desk in front of him and lifted out
the sole document
therein, a four page report detailing the precise make-up of the 1st Chars D’Assault Brigade ‘Camerone’.

‘How did he know that?’

Momentarily thrown, Kowalski took the document and skim read it before sliding it into his briefcase.

“Very good, Knocke, very good,” the first for the file, the second most probably for the anticipation of his request.

“Proof, Herr Maior. Get me proof
,
or our relationship is over
,” Knocke’s eyes
carried
a coldness not
seen before
, “And you will die
.”

Both men stood
, their chairs scraping on the wooden floor with the speed of their movement.

“Never ever presume to threaten me
,
you German bastard.”