Crack of Doom (10 page)

The wounded man gurgled. With a stony face Giesinger watched him being pulled up; he kicked with his legs and spat out bloody foam. His movements became slower and slower, like the pistons of an engine running down; then he hung still. For the first time Giesinger looked at the pale faces of the crowd of soldiers standing round and watching; several officers on the staff ran behind the house. He smiled scornfully, and then gave orders that the other two prisoners should be taken along to divisional headquarters. Back there he beat the snow off his coat and told Hepp: "Squeeze all you can out of them, I'll be with you in a moment."

Going into his room, he phoned the adjutant at corps. The conversation took some time, the adjutant wanted full details, and Colonel Kolmel also joined in, asking for the enemy position. Giesinger reported Hopper's intention of sending a patrol forward. "Excellent," said Kolmel, his voice sounding unusually affable, so that for a moment Giesinger fought with himself, wondering whether he shouldn't after all report Schmitt's partisan operation. Perhaps Kolmel didn't know anything at all about the general having ordered Schmitt's battalion up to Kosice just before he was caught. Before he could decide, Kolmel returned to the explosion at the district HQ and mentioned that the head of corp's Gestapo unit was on business anyhow in Kosice and so was bound to be looking in. "The new general should also be turning up soon," he said. "In about two hours, I'd say."

"As soon as that!" Giesinger let slip.

There was silence for a moment at the other end, and then Kolmel remarked: "You sound rather sorry."

"Oh, of course not," Giesinger declared in haste. He certainly had not expected it so soon. On the other hand he felt relieved, for the latest reports from the front had increased his uneasiness. When Kolmel hung up, he returned to Hepp's room.

Hepp was sitting behind his desk, turning over his spectacles in his hands. The prisoners stood in the middle of the room with a guard on either side, and there were six officers there as well. Giesinger sent them all out except for Hepp, Hardorff and an interpreter; he told Hardorff to go and fetch Kahlmann, the judge advocate.

"They're as stubborn as Tibetan mules," said Hepp. He lifted a cloth which was on the desk. "Take a look at this."

Giesinger saw a roll of copper wire, a small cylinder with two wires and a narrow tin. "Know what that is?" asked Hepp. Giesinger picked up the tin and examined it. "A detonator."

"Very much so. A detonator for a charge of dynamite, and the rest belongs to it too. We don't need more than that."

"Where did you find the stuff?"

Hepp pointed to the younger prisoner. "In his coat pocket. When he was caught, he tried to throw it away."

"Bad luck for him he didn't do that sooner." Giesinger looked toward the door; Hardorff had just returned with a short, balding man, who came quickly over to Giesinger and shook hands. "You've got work for me," he said. His eyes fell on the prisoners, and he looked them up and down, with a broad smirk.

Giesinger turned to the interpreter. "Tell the two of them we want to find out who's behind them. If they give us the addresses, we'll let them go."

"They won't believe that," Kahlmann interrupted. "You have to go about things more cleverly with this type." He passed a hand over his bald pate and, blinking nervously, said to the interpreter: "Put what the major said differently. Tell them it doesn't matter for us whether we hang them or not, we're only interested in the people behind them; and if they give us the names, it may save their necks."

The interpreter, a young staff officer, translated accordingly. Giesinger watched the prisoners. Their faces were swollen, and the younger seemed to have a broken nose; he kept wiping the blood away with the dirty sleeve of his coat. When the interpreter had finished, they looked silently at the ground. "The inspector won't be any more successful," said Hepp, shrugging his shoulders; "we may as well hang them. . . ." The ringing of the telephone made him break off; he picked up the receiver, and his face became tense. "Right away . . . Hopper on the line," he told Giesinger. "The patrol's back, and they lost four men. He says it's impossible to go ahead, the Russians are massed there."

"Let me talk to him," Giesinger took the receiver.

"What's Wieland's report?" Hopper asked.

"Same as yours, more or less. All quiet in Scheper's."

"Right—well, now we know where we are." Hopper rang off unceremoniously, and Giesinger called corps.

Kolmel was disappointed. "Perhaps Wieland will be more successful. It's imperative we get a prisoner, tell him."

Wieland swore when Giesinger passed on the message. "It's crazy in this weather. I'd rather you sent Schmitt to me. The sector's too big for two battalions."

"The general. .." began Giesinger, but Wieland had already hung up. "What a muddle they're all in," Giesinger remarked. He returned abruptly to the prisoners. "We're making too much fuss of them," he exclaimed in a sudden fury.

Kahlmann laughed. "That's what I've said all along. We're much too humane. It's not enough to hang a dozen of them if we let ten thousand others go free because we haven't anything on them, or tell ourselves we haven't. It's my experience that every other Czech is in league with the partisans either directly or indirectly." He turned to the interpreter. "Explain to these fellows that in five minutes we're going to string them up. They can think it over till then. . . ."

Lieutenant Hartung stuck his head in the door. "The inspector, sir."

"Send him in," Giesinger said tersely. A powerfully-built man with a placid-looking face entered the room.

"Fine circus you've got here," the inspector remarked, after shaking hands all round. He did not even glance at the prisoners, but came straight to the point. "I've already been to the district HQ—neat work, I must say." There was a note of admiration in his voice.

Kahlmann frowned. "You don't really consider this a work of art?"

The inspector smiled. "I said it was neat work." He turned to Giesinger. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me what you know." He listened to Giesinger's report, and nodded. "I can't stay long over this business, I'm on to something else. Yesterday we received an anonymous letter." He paused and for the first time looked at the prisoners; his face was no longer placid, but sharp-featured, with a hard line over the bridge of the nose. "An anonymous letter," he repeated slowly. "In it were two addresses of alleged deserters who were supposed to be hiding in Kosice. The addresses were fictitious, of course. What interests me, however, is why the letter was written."

"Hope you find the sender," said Giesinger.

The inspector grinned. "We already have, and meanwhile they've brought off this stunt with your general. Perhaps there's a connection." His small eyes examined the prisoners again. "You've not got anything out of them yet?"

"Only Czechs could be as stubborn as these two," answered Kahlmann.

"Hang one of the two," said the inspector, "and let the other watch. That method always works."

Giesinger shook his head skeptically. "We've tried it already. I told you there were three, didn't I?"

"Depends on the way you do it, Herr Giesinger. Hang one of them, and let the other struggle and kick for half a minute until he's softened up. Just try."

"If you think it's any good," said Giesinger, rising with reluctance. "I don't really believe in it. Which one do you want to hang?"

"The young chap. He's got more powers of resistance, and probably he doesn't know as much as the old man. You'll come with me, won't you?"

"I have my own stuff to see to." The thought of witnessing another execution suddenly revolted Giesinger. Hepp and Hardorff also suddenly looked very tired. Hepp yawned, extracted his bulky figure from behind the desk, and asked Hardorff: "What are you going to do now?"

Hardorff turned to Giesinger. "Do you need me still?"

"No," said Giesinger sulkily.

"Then I'm off to bed."

"Me, too," said Hepp. Both officers left hastily, with Kahlmann looking after them in consternation. The duty officer appeared in the doorway, with six men behind him in steel helmets carrying tommy-guns. Giesinger saw the prisoners' faces change color under the crust of blood and dirt.

"Where shall I find you?" asked the inspector.

Giesinger went into the passage with him and showed the inspector his room. He suddenly felt himself entangled in an ugly business that was no concern of his. Behind him Kahlmann's voice asked eagerly: "Are you really not coming with us?"

"No."

"Pity."

Giesinger watched them go. The prisoners went first, followed by the firing squad with flashing jackboots, and the inspector, who was talking to the interpreter. Last came Kahlmann, carrying his cigar carefully in an extended hand. Giesinger felt sick and exhausted, and his head was aching. Back in his room, he sank into a chair and stared wearily ahead of him. Suddenly he remembered the three deserters Schmitt had been looking for in Oviz. His eyes went to the phone, but his weariness was too great; he decided to follow the thing up later. One thing at a time, he thought with a huge yawn; perhaps he could mention it to the inspector-considering he'd also been after deserters. He yawned again, then realized how cold the room was, and glanced at the curtain, blowing to and fro in front of an empty window frame. That on top of everything else, he thought—he must get some glass into there as soon as possible, perhaps it could just be put in from the window in another room. He was about to send for his orderly when the inspector and Kahlmann entered the room. Their faces were flushed; Kahlmann was still holding his cigar. "More than we expected," he said jubilantly, and gave Giesinger a piece of paper. "Twelve addresses, eleven in this region and one in Oviz. Where's Oviz?"

Giesinger looked up with a start. "Oviz—but that's...." He went to the phone. "Send me Lieutenant Schreiber," he said in excitement, then told the others more doubtfully: "You may think I'm crazy, but it's really an amazing coincidence. In connection with the missing general I sent a battalion to Szomolnok, and Lieutenant Schreiber told me just now that the battalion went on a bit further, to Oviz, looking for three German deserters there. It was the first I'd heard of it."

"Interesting," said the inspector.

Giesinger sat down again. "I can't quite make it out. Captain Schmitt . . . Ah, here comes Schreiber."

Giesinger asked him impatiently: "What was that about Captain Schmitt in Oviz?"

Schreiber braced back his shoulders. "Captain Schmitt went first to Oviz with his battalion, looking for three German deserters there, and as he didn't find them, he returned to Szomolnok."

"Get me one of the drivers," Giesinger ordered.

"Can't, I'm afraid, sir. They're off to the front again."

"Nuisance." Giesinger turned to the inspector, who had been listening with interest. "It's the drivers of the heavy trucks. They drove Schmitt and his battalion to Szomolnok, and now they're taking building material to the trenches."

"Then there's nothing we can do. I can't stay any longer, I'm afraid, my men are waiting in the car outside. What exactly was the idea in sending the battalion to Szomolnok?"

"I told you: in connection with the missing general —a large-scale search operation. They're combing the whole area between Szomolnok and Denes. Here's the map."

The inspector bent over it. "Where did it happen?"

"Just here." Giesinger showed him the place.

"And where's Oviz?"

Kahlmann discovered it first. "Here it is. Quite a way from Szomolnok," he said in surprise.

They looked at each other. After a moment the inspector straightened up. "The prisoner came out with the name of someone called Nikolash, who's supposed to live in Oviz. It was this Nikolash who gave him orders to blow up the HQ."

"A man from Oviz?" exclaimed Giesinger, his brain racing. He was hunting for connections, but his confusion merely grew.

The inspector rose. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, we're at last on the track of the band which has given us so much trouble."

"And the prisoner?"

"He's called Krasko, Ovid Krasko, and lives here. I'm taking him with me to Oviz."

"You want to . . . ?"

"What do you think? Where do I find your Captain Schmitt?"

"In Szomolnok!" Giesinger turned to Lieutenant Schreiber. "Tell Pfeiffer to signal Schmitt by radio...."

"Leave that to me," the inspector interrupted. "I'll talk to him myself. But you'll have to deal with the other addresses—or perhaps you'd better leave it to the MFs." He hurried out of the room.

Giesinger handed Schreiber the addresses. "Do the necessary," he said, sinking wearily into a chair. "What do you say to all that?" he asked Kahlmann.

Kahlmann screwed up his plump face into a broad grin. "Man after my own heart, that. Doesn't say much, but he certainly knows how to get things moving. You missed something. The way that prisoner poured out information when he felt the rope round his neck! We could hardly keep up with him. Yes, the only method. . . ."

"I'd rather not hear about your 'methods/ " Giesinger interrupted irritably. "I'm an adjutant, not a hangman."

Kahlmann got up and began mincing up and down the room on his short legs. Giesinger watched in disgust the way he held the cigar between his podgy fingers. "Chilly in here," he remarked.

"The explosion blew the window in," said Giesinger.

"You poor man!" Kahlmann went quickly over to the window and drawing the curtain aside, said enthusiastically, "Well, there he is!"

Giesinger joined him at the window. About ten yards away, barely visible in the snowstorm, a man's lifeless body was hung from a tree.

"Couldn't you find a better place?" Giesinger asked.

"Does it disturb you? If it hadn't been so far from my quarters we'd have strung him. up there as a sort of trademark."

"Oh, shut up," said Giesinger savagely.

Kahlmann laughed. "Lord, you are sensitive. When you had the wounded one hanged you didn't seem to have any qualms."

"That was something different. I saw red at that moment, but now. . . ."