Crack of Doom (29 page)

Schmitt sat down at the table again and said crossly: "All right now, own up—where did you hear that about the Russians?"

Kolodzi, who had been waiting for the chance to talk to Schmitt on his own, launched into his story, concealing nothing.

When he had finished, Schmitt said, "Do you know what you are?"

"I'd like you to tell me."

Schmitt took a mess tin lid, and scooped himself some coffee. After drinking it, he put the receptacle down on the table and said: "The devil. What do I care?"

Kolodzi was disappointed. He began to regret having told everything. "I know the answer without your help. I'm only worried about Corporal Herbig. If you report the matter, hell be hanged."

"His own fault," said Schmitt coldly.

"Will you report him?" asked Kolodzi.

Schmitt avoided his eyes. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"He didn't mean to kill the man," Kolodzi persisted.

Schmitt said nothing. Something in Kolodzi's eyes made him feel unsure of himself. The responsibility's too great, he thought: how could he tell the man what he ought to do if he hadn't the courage to see it himself? His eyes fell on Margita. She had raised her head slightly, and he contemplated her mouth, the liquid eyes, the firm skin over her cheekbones. All at once he felt the palms of his hands growing moist, and remembered that he hadn't slept with a woman for five years. A long time, he thought: a long time for a man, even when he has a hunchback—or perhaps just because of that.

Without his realizing it, his mouth twisted into a wry smile, which seemed to kindle something in the woman, so that she suddenly began smiling too. It changed her face in a surprising way, making him stare at her—till he heard someone cough. Turning his head, he saw Kolodzi still standing at the door. "Get the hell out of here," he said, unable to endure the man's expression of contempt. When Kolodzi had gone, Schmitt brought a feather bed out of the next room and put it down near the stove. After making sure all the windows were guarded, he sent Margita to the other room. "Spat—sleep!" he said curtly.

She looked at him in surprise. "Me?" she asked.

"Don't ask questions," he growled, seizing her by the arm and pulling her toward her bed. In the darkness he could just see her smiling as she undid her skirt. It disturbed him so much that he remained standing and watching till she was left in only the shirt. Then he almost fled back into the other room, blushing scarlet as he turned the lamp down. That would be the end, he thought.

He put his tommy-gun and pistol down under the feather bed against the wall, so that he could get hold of them at once if required. He took off his jacket, pushed it under his head, and spread the camouflage coat over him. He was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open, yet after half an hour he was still not asleep, and kept turning from one side to the other.

Everything inside him was worked up and impatient. He tried to think of the general, of the battalion, of Menges, and of all the horrible details of the past day; but it was no use, he could not get his mind off the woman. With his eyes closed he saw her face before him, her naked legs, and the pointed breasts under her shirt. The picture had stuck so fast in his brain that he could not dislodge it. It floated on the top of his consciousness like a log of wood in a whirlpool, and when he pressed his face into the pillows, he seemed to feel the salty taste of a moist skin on his tongue, the yielding pressure of a mouth, the irresistible pull of two soft arms holding him fast. . . .

He slept so soundly that Baumgartner had to pound on the door with his fists to awaken him. Schmitt staggered off the bed.

"There's a major wants to speak to you, sir," said Baumgartner but almost before he had finished, he was pushed aside and Giesinger came into the room. "You're certainly a good sleeper," he remarked, taking a chair.

Mechanically Schmitt pushed the door shut behind him and leaned against it. He was so astounded that it was some time before he could speak. "I wasn't prepared for
you
coming," he said at last.

"I didn't expect it myself," Giesinger answered. He looked years older. His face was pale, unshaven and hollow, with rings that might have been inked in under his eyes.

"How did you find me?" Schmitt asked.

"I was with Menges at Szomolnok. He didn't know where you'd got to, but suggested I try Oviz." His eyes bored into Schmitt's face. "How are things with the general?"

"All right."

Giesinger gaped. "What!"

"We know where they're holding him," said Schmitt, sitting down at the table.

Giesinger's face began to work. "Where is he?"

"In a hut on the Golden Table. We were going to start in an hour."

"We must start off at once," said Giesinger. His eyes were gleaming. "How far is it?"

"Four hours, I'm told."

"Four hours, eh? Quite a way. In case you hadn't heard yet, the front's collapsed, and the Russians will be here some time today. Wait," he said, as Schmitt was about to spring up, "that's not the whole of it. The entire division has been wiped out, I'm the only man to come through. I sent your battalion to Dobsina, the new line will be formed there. How many men have you got with you here?"

"Eleven."

"Only that! Menges said you had at least twenty."

"And three of the eleven have bad blisters on their feet," said Schmitt; "so better say eight." He had quickly recovered from his shock at Giesinger's news. If the news was accurate, it would be irresponsible to waste any more time on the general. "I don't know how you think we can do it," he went on. "We need four hours to climb the mountain, and three more coming down, so it would take at least. . . ."

"I don't care," Giesinger cut in. "We must get the general, even if it means we meet the Russians on the mountain. But there's no danger of that. An armored division of ours is still in Kosice. It's moving to Roznava in the next three hours, unit by unit, and will hold the line there till tomorrow, so the Russians can't possibly be there before this evening. Anyhow you ought to be just as interested as I am in finding the general, I can tell you. Menges has nine gentlemen with him who are gunning for you hard. They should be in DobSina soon, and the colonel
is
going straight to corps to fix a noose for you."

"I should have left him with the partisans!"

"You should have thought of that earlier. As I judge the case, what you've done is likely to take you in front of a firing squad. What on earth was the idea?"

"If I'd acted differently, we wouldn't know now where the general is."

"You'll have to prove that first, and you can't without the general."

Schmitt rose with a scowl. He spread out his map and bent over it. "Our men are enough," he said. "The general hasn't more than one man guarding him. In fact it will be better if we only take the smallest possible number. Excuse me a moment." He went into the kitchen, woke the men up, and took Kolodzi back with him. "Call the woman," he said. "She's to get ready for taking us to the general as quickly as possible."

"Woman?" asked Giesinger in amazement.

Schmitt told Giesinger the essentials, including the problem of the dead Gestapo man.

Giesinger took a gloomy view. "If the inspector were still alive, I could have talked to him, I knew him quite well. Perhaps the general can do something. If we don't find him, it will be just as unpleasant for this Herbig as for you and me."

"For you least of all," said Schmitt.

Giesinger snorted. "You've no idea! I'm to be held responsible for the Russians' break-through. The new general and Kolmel think it could have been avoided if you'd been there with your battalion. They didn't like my sending you off without notifying corps."

"Herr Fuchs told you they wouldn't."

"Shut up about Herr Fuchs. If we find the general, I’ll certainly have something to tell him. Frankly, I'm not too pleased at having a woman along, we'll only have her collapsing on us."

"I doubt it. These women have grown up in the mountains and are tough as nails."

There was a knock on the door. Roos came in and reported that the men were ready.

Schmitt went outside, had Roos show him the men with bad feet, and told them to deliver the two prisoners to Lieutenant Menges when they reached Dobsina. "You'll have to go on foot from Szomolnok if you don't pick up another truck." He turned to the driver of the truck, who was in the back supervising the loading of the dead. "You'll wait for us in Szomolnok."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "All right, sir. I'll drive around anywhere you say. I hope I don't get into trouble afterward, though."

"You'll only get into trouble if you aren't waiting for us in Szomolnok."

Back in the house, Schmitt found Giesinger seated at the table with Margita standing in front of him. She wore a light-colored coat trimmed with fur and a kind of Balaclava tied under her chin with a red cord. Schmitt gave her a fleeting glance, and said to Giesinger: "We're ready."

"So am I." Giesinger was still staring at Margita. "How come such a good-looking bitch lives in a hole like this?"

"I wondered about that myself," Schmitt answered. When they left the house they heard angry voices coming from the truck. Schmitt stepped up in time to see Kolodzi and Herbig pull the Gestapo man out of the back. "The man got in against my express orders," Schmitt explained to Giesinger.

"There's nothing much you can do about it," said Giesinger. "The special police have their privileges. Anyhow why do you want to keep him here? Hell only binder us."

"I have my reasons." Schmitt beckoned Kolodzi to one side. "Keep a good eye on him. I'll put the case to the general, he may know a way of solving that business."

Giesinger was looking impatiently at his watch. "We've wasted a whole hour," he said to Schmitt. "Where on earth is that woman?"

"Here she comes now," Schmitt answered. They took Margita between them and set off through the village.

After passing the last houses of the village, Margita left the road and entered the wood to head for the mountain. It was still darker here, and Schmitt glanced anxiously at the sky, observing to his relief that it had not clouded over. A few stars hung between the snow-covered tips of the pines.

Giesinger trudged alongside Schmitt, deep in thought. Although he had marched for ten hours he no longer felt tired, being wholly absorbed by the prospect of coming face to face with the general. His burning impatience mingled with a constant anxiety about what would happen if at the last moment something should prevent its coming off—it was unthinkable. If only he knew whether Stiller was alive; Stiller was the one man with any interest in having him court-martialed. And if Stiller got out of Rozhanovce alive, he must have noticed I wasn't there with the other officers. ... In the general excitement it had been easy enough to get away from them: with a slight feeling of shame Giesinger remembered how he had sat in the lavatory for half an hour. Then hearing the yells of the approaching Russians, he had rushed headlong for the trucks, seizing the first car he found to make his getaway. Realizing the Russians might be at the road fork, he had run off into the wood with the driver, not worrying what might be happening behind him. A sudden noise sent goose flesh down his back. Now it came again: it sounded like the protracted howl of a dog. He stopped in horror. "What on earth is that?"

Schmitt peered into the wood. "A wolf I suppose. The country is full of them."

"Damned beasts," muttered Giesinger as he walked on.

"They're not so bad," said Schmitt. "At least they only attack a man when they're hungry. Nice, sensible beasts—we could learn something from
them."

Schmitt felt utterly dispirited, and the endless hiking through deep snow seemed more of a strain than ever. To take his mind off the march, he waited until Kolodzi came up. "Is your mother still in Kosice?" he asked.

"I think so," said Kolodzi curtly. He had not forgotten how Schmitt had thrown him out the evening before.

Sensing his mood, Schmitt said: "You ought to know yourself how to act now."

"I do know."

His insolent tone annoyed Schmitt. Couldn't one have a reasonable conversation with anyone? "That's good. After all, it is not I who wants to marry your fiancee."

"What has it to do with her?"

"Everything," answered Schmitt, and went ahead to Giesinger.

It had grown lighter. The wood descended into a valley opening out ahead of them. Reaching the other side, they climbed on to a narrow ridge. Then the mist began to come up. The mountains on the other side disappeared in rising clouds of mist, and the sky seemed like a white cloth suspended low over the tops of the pines.

They called Kolodzi forward to ask Margita about the route.

When he had talked to her, he told the officers: "We have to keep on the mountain from now on. She says it's part of the Golden Table. If it weren't so misty, we could see the top from here."

"That's good enough," said Giesinger, giving Margita a sign with his hand. "I shan't have any peace till we're up there. A crazy name for a mountain anyhow."

Schmitt smiled. "Since yesterday I've been marching around and around it, and I still don't know what it looks like. First it was the snow, now it's the mist. I feel there's a sort of fate about it."

"I wish that were all you had to worry over," said Giesinger. "You can have the damned mountain. I want the general, and that's all."

They marched for another two hours without stopping. The mist had become still thicker, and the further up the mountain they came, the higher the snow lay between the trees. Later on, when the wood thinned out, they saw an immense snowfield.

The men stopped, puffing and panting. Margita turned to Kolodzi and they watched her talking and pointing straight up to the snowfield, and then over to the right, where the edge of the wood was concealed by the mist.

"What does she say?" Giesinger asked.

"We have two possibilities. We can go straight across the peak, or else around the mountain. The hut is on the other side of it. The way over the peak is tougher, but an hour shorter than the other."