The Division of the Damned (41 page)

"So, what’s the problem, Lieutenant?" the
g
eneral finally addressed Borkin.

The small man behind the g
eneral cou
ghed and the g
eneral heaved a sigh irritably. "Comrade Lieutenant,” he added.

Borkin, who was glad to note that the
g
eneral was not a politically
-
orientated officer, told him most of what he knew. He had wanted to leave out the vampires but his conscience had pricked him hard and he had added it at the end as a bizarre after-note.

"Right, Comrade, you did well to bring this to my attention. I don’t know if you’ve heard but our men in Poland have discovered another such camp in a place
called Majadank, I bel
ieve
—
”

The small officer behi
nd him spoke for the first time.
"Majdanek, I believe, Comrade General.” He took a step forward and leaned back to sit on the table. In German he spoke to Reuben. "Tell me about the vampires, Jew.”

Reuben was momentarily taken aback but swung into the same description he had given Borkin and his men. All the while the little man sat like a pati
ent bullfrog and listened. The g
eneral soon lost interest and after a while went back to his paperwork.

"So the Fascists have left the camp, you say?” he asked when Reuben had finished. 

"I, well we, thought so at the time. We didn’t see any when we left.”

"Do you think this bourgeois c
ount is annoyed at the Fascists?”

Reuben looked puzzled.

"What I am trying to ask here is would the
c
ount be agreeable to a change of sides. Would he fight with us against the Fascists?”

"I don’t know. I think the c
ount has
his own
goals. I don’t think he has been working for the Germans to please the Third Reich. It was more of a quid pro quo situation.”

The little man nodded for him to elaborate.

"Well, we were working on a serum so that the vampires could survive during the day and I think that’s the only reason the
c
ount was
fighting on th
e German, I mean Fascist side
—
”

Suddenly the little man became animated. "I see, I see. So he has no ideological affiliation to the Fascists. This is good, this is very good.”

The g
eneral looked up briefly from his paperwork and asked what he had in mind.

"Well, as I see it, the c
ount has no real loyalty to the Third Reich. I think that if we send a delegation to negotiate a deal with the
c
ount and his vampires, perhaps they’ll come and fight for us. Think of the terror that will cause if the Fascists find out we have their vampires fighting on our side.”

"And who are we going to send to formulate this delicate piece of negotiation? I can’t spare any senior staff at the moment owing to the next phase of our push.”

The little man whirled around and banged his fist on the table
.
"I wi
ll go. I’ll negotiate with the c
ount and bring him onto the side of the Motherland." He looked at Reuben, Borkin and Stephanie. "Show me on the map where it is.”

The
g
eneral theatrically sighed again and decided to ignore them.

Reuben went over to look, but after much searching, he couldn’t find it.

"Could you find it if you were given horses or a lorry?”

"I don’t know. It was a long way away and we did
n’t really follow any set route
—
”

But the small man had made up his mind. "You three will come with me. We’ll go by day with a small force and we’ll promise them what they need.”

Reuben opened his mouth to protest but Stephanie beat him to it. "No. I will not go back to those monsters. You cannot make me and I will not go. I’d sooner be shot, r
ight here and now, than go back.
”

The small man’s face took a distinctly dangerous twist and he leaned forward to speak to Stephanie "That could so easily be arranged, German. I could have had you shot as a spy when you first came here but I chose to listen to your side of the story before I made any decisions. You both say you are willing to help our struggle against the Fascists, so here is your chance to prove it." He looked at his watch. It was early evening. "We leave at 0600 hours. Hopefully we’ll be in their area before nightfall,
then
we have the whole of the next day to find them and to strike
a deal." He looked up at Borkin.
"Comrade Lieutenant, they are in your custody until this mission is at an end. If they escape, you will pay with your head, literally.”

They set off belatedly just before eight the next day, seven men and one woman all packed in one truck. The wagon was American, a part of the Lend Lease agreement. Reuben sat in the back with four soldiers on escort duty. Borkin sat in the front with Stephanie and the driver.

"No, I don’t think the c
ommissar will be coming with us in the wagon. He has his own driver and vehicle," Borkin was explaining.

"He has his own car?” Stephanie asked, shocked.

"Yes, a Jeep. It’s American, like this truck. When the war is over we will pay back America in full what we owe but first we must smash the Fascists," he recited dutifully.

"Is that normal for every officer to have his own vehicle?”

"Not really but he does seem to wield an awful lot of power for a political officer. Normally they just organise lectures and the like for the troops
,
like a sort of political teacher. But that one really was
running the show. I reckon the g
eneral wasn’t thought of as being politically rel
iable enough by Moscow and the c
ommissar was there to keep an eye on things. Between y
ou and me, I think the decision
makers up top have realised that killing the good generals because they didn’t support the Communists was a bad idea, especially in times of war.”

"That’s not a good way to run an army
.
" Stephanie smiled.

She liked Borkin. He was pleasant and relaxed with her; a bit like Michael but without the baggage. She’d thought long and hard about where he might be by now. He was probably dead, which was a shame because he was the first man she had met who was genuinely through and through good.

Michael wasn’t polite, he wasn’t refined. He had
told her of his past in the red-
light scene and all the dubious transactions he had made at the time.
However his likeability and uprightness came from somewhere within.
He possessed an unadulterated integrity that Stephanie admired and found attractive.

They drove through the day and into the unchartered territory between the fronts. The truck found it hard going on the closely wooded track but their progress was steady and they covered a good distance before Borkin decided they should set up camp. They didn’t make it as far as they had hoped but Borkin seemed used to disappointment and he shrugged philosophically when Reuben pointed it out to him.

The
c
ommissar had finally caught up with them, and his driver set up his tent. He held himself aloof from the others, as did his driver, and it didn’t escape Reuben’s notice that the other soldiers all stopped talking when he looked in their direction.

Reuben hadn’t been able to communicate with any of the guards, and their glowering silence only helped to unnerve him even more.

"I don’t like this. Going back there, I mean,” he whispered to Stephanie.

"Neither do I but what do you want to do?" she whispered back.

"Escape
,
of course," he breathlessly exclaimed.

"Where to?
There’s nowhere to go to. The Russians on one side, the Germans on the other, we’ve got to stick it out with the Russians until
we know what to do. To blindly run away now would only make things harder for us.”

Reuben nodded resignedly. "Let’s get some sleep. I’m freezing.”

Borkin had ordered that no fires be made but the commissar had overruled him and a small fire was lit. They sat around its spluttering flame, silent in thoughtful reflection. The guards were sharing a bottle of vodka on the other side of the fire and periodically they would laugh coarsely at some joke or other. Reuben and Stephanie concerned themselves with how much vodka they were drinking and its possible effect on their guardians if any German or, God forbid, vampire soldiers attacked, but they were soon to realise that that wasn’t their real problem.

As the evening blurred into night, Reuben noticed from time to time the way one of the guards would slip a scheming glance at Stephanie. Reuben was no fool and he knew what was going through his mind. He also knew he wouldn’t stand a chance if the four of them decided to make a move on her. He looked desperately around for Borkin but he couldn’t see him despite the full moon illuminating the encampment.

The hours passed by and
the fire was now blazing. The c
ommissar was, at this point, singing loudly in his tent after drinking a bottle of vodka, and his driver, who was meant to be on guard, was slumped on the floor in an alcohol-induced coma.

Any form of soldierly bearing was thrown to the wind as the men gave vent to their need for clear spirits. It seemed to Reuben that the victories the Red Army had achieved in the last couple of months had visited on them an undeniably hazardous form of audacity.

After scanning the immediate area for Borkin he turned to Stephanie to tell her he was going to try to find the lieutenant. To his horror he saw that all four of the guards were looking at her with open interest.

Stephanie stared back at them in unspoken defiance. "T
ypical,” he muttered to himself.
"
W
here are the good guys when you need them?" He shook her shoulder to attract her attention. "Don’t look at them. Ignore them. Perhaps they’ll lose interest." But as he said it he knew the suggestion was wasted.

They smiled at her, holding the vodka aloft and beckoning to her to come join them. Stephanie wordlessly stared back at them, challenging them to come nearer with the set of her expression. Reuben thought fast and had an idea. Sighing, he said in a weary voice, "Let me go and talk to them. They won’t hurt an old man.”

Stephanie turned to him in alarm
.
"Why? I can handle myself. I’ve fought off far bigger than those four imbeciles, I can tell you.” Reuben
smiled inwardly at the bravado;
his plan had worked. Now she was interested in talking him out of a confrontation with the four Russians whereas before she had been looking for the fight.

However, events overtook them as the four guards suddenly stood and advanced on the pair. Stephanie leapt to action but instead of backing away she bent down and plucked a burning branch from the fire to use as a weapon.

One of them said something and they laughed loudly. Reuben stepped forward as they approached, more as a reflex action than as a deliberate movement, to try and talk to them. He smiled through his fear, opening his arms in appeal, palms outstretched. They were mere yards away and Reuben put his hands together as if in prayer, wordlessly begging them not to follow through on their intent. It was all to no avail; the Russians ignored him and made to push past.

Reuben felt Stephanie move up behind him and a new resolve coursed through him. He stubbornly moved into their path again and the nearest guard deftly swung his rifle butt up into Reuben’s face. He fell back and into Stephanie, momentarily putting her off guard. The men seized on the opportunity and rushed forward to grab her. She swung the stick around to jab at the first’s eyes with the flaming bough but they were too fast and they easily swamped her, pulling her to the floor.

Reuben sprang to the attack, wordlessly pulling one guard off her and setting about the next. The second was not so easily moved and he turned to fight properly. Then the first joined in with the heavy end of his rifle, clubbing Reuben again to the ground.

The butt smashed down over and over, mostly on Reuben’s arms as he tried to protect himself, but every third or fourth strike found his head and Reuben felt unconsciousness violently gripping him with every bone-jarring hit.

Stephanie fought her attackers with a strength born of rage. After the death of her husband, she had sworn to herself that no man would use her again. For her it was death or submission and she fought with that in mind. She scratched the eyes of the attacker that lay on top of her, biting, kicking and struggling with all her might. However, the men were so heavy and she could feel her strength ebbing away. She screamed in impotent fury at her physical weakness and the attacker laughed horribly into her face.

Despite her struggling, she felt a snakelike hand slide up her inner thigh, another closed on her knee and started to prise her legs apart. She groped wildly for a weapon, her vehemence now finding new strength. Her hand clasped on a bayonet scabbard, and then the bayonet itself. In one swift but unpractised movement she seized the handle and pulled, but nothing happened. The blade, held in its casing by a clasp, stayed firmly in its sheath. She pulled harder, jerking it with all her might but again nothing happened.