CHAPTER SIXTY
Reports of gunshots came pouring into Maas’ office. While information from outside of the Fortress was sparse, the reports from inside the complex were numerous.
“Sir, we have shots fired on several levels. Two technicians were killed on the hangar level. Three men were shot and killed at the elevator on the hangar level. A firefight has erupted with several of our men killed on the basement level. All the disturbance is in the northwest quadrant,” reported Maas’ assistant, Max Delper. Delper was a worried man. Maas made it clear to him he was not happy with Delper’s actions in documenting the incursions. Delper did not want to get on Maas’ bad side. So Delper was particularly efficient in gathering and reporting all actions occurring throughout the Fortress. He stood before Captain Maas waiting for his reaction.
“Move all available resources to the northwest quadrant. Block all elevators and entrances. They got in, but they will not get out,” Maas said sternly. He looked directly at Delper. “You still here?” he bellowed. “Move your ass now. And get troops to the basement!”
Maas thought for a second. He knew where they were going. Those sons-of-bitches were going after the two Americans jailed in the sub-basement. But, he thought, the intruders would not know about the sub-basement. He whirled around. “I’m headed to the sub-basement. Have all reports come to me down there!” he yelled as he opened his office door and strode off purposefully down the hall to the elevator. When he turned the corner down the hall, he was pleased to see seven of his armed crack troops guarding the elevator. They all snapped to attention. “Open the damn door. I’m going down there,” he barked to the group leader, who turned and began fumbling with the elevator controls. Maas waited, becoming more and more frustrated with each second. “Why am I waiting?” he shouted just as the elevator door opened, revealing several more armed guards. Maas didn’t give anyone time to answer. He stepped into the elevator and looked at the men. “Get out now,” he said curtly, motioning them toward the open elevator door.
“But sir,” questioned the group leader, “they are guarding the elevator. What if the intruders get in?” Maas gave the group leader a stern look and pulled his pistol.
“They will have to deal with me,” Maas replied matter-of-factly. “I will send the elevator back up. Put these men back in then.” With that, Maas closed the elevator doors and reached into his pocket for the elevator override key. He placed the key in the keyhole and turned it to the right. The elevator began to go down, down to Maas’ secret sub-basement.
When the door opened three of his select guards were aiming their weapons at the interior of the elevator. They quickly raised them when they saw it was Maas.
One of the guards gave a quick report. “No incursions at this level, sir,” he said quickly. “I don’t think they know we are down here.”
Maas glared at the guards and walked past them down the short hall to the main chamber. A small smile came across his face as he saw Grübner still hanging, moaning quietly.
“Get the Americans, now!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. Two guards at one end of the room ran off down the hall to get the two prisoners. Maas turned and looked at Grübner sternly. He grabbed his chin and pulled it up so Maas could see what was left of his eyes. “How are you, Oberleutnant?” he asked. Grübner, although now nearly blind, cracked open his eyes through the dried blood and sweat that glued them together. Weakly he tried to speak. Maas simply stepped back and hit him with his fist across the face. Grübner’s head snapped back and he let out a long, low moan. Maas grinned.
Behind him he heard a scuffle. The two guards brought Dana and Randall into the room. Their eyes fixated straight on Grübner hanging naked before them.
“Oh, my God!” gasped Dana. She closed her eyes, looked away and started to sob. She had never seen anything like this. She heard Grübner moaning. She opened her eyes now realizing it was worse than she thought. The man was alive!
Randall grimaced as he took Grübner’s situation in. This was what Maas was capable of? My God, we are going to die.
“Bring the girl and hang her here,” Maas ordered with a slight smile. Randall jumped forward only to be slammed down on the floor by the guard holding him. His head bounced off of the concrete floor. It made a hideous sound. Randall was out like a light. “If he tries that again, kill him,” hissed Maas. “I am finished being nice.” The two guards stood over Randall waiting for him to move again.
“Randall!” screamed Dana, not knowing how badly he was hurt. “Randall, no!” she screamed, trying to fight off her guard but keeping one eye on Randall lying on the floor. The burly guard manhandled Dana over near Grübner while another pair of guards pulled an overhead trolley with chains hanging down over to Dana. She sat down hard trying to delay the inevitable as long as she could. The trolley was attached to a set of rails that ran the length of the room. There were two more trolleys still waiting against the wall. Evidently four victims could be hung from the ceiling at one time. It seemed Maas’ playground was well equipped for his kind of play.
Dana struggled to free herself from the guards with no success. Her screams clearly hurt the guards’ ears. Regardless, the men simply grabbed her hands as she sat there squirming and thrust each of them into steel shackles being locked tightly around her wrists. She tried to lie on the floor and kick the guards.
“Randall!” she screamed as the shackles were locked. “No!” Randall was still lying on the floor. He was not moving. “Oh, God, Randall!” Dana was squirming, trying to release her hands. Her slippers flew into the air as she tried repeatedly to kick at the guards. The two guards stepped back as another pressed a button on the control box in his hand. There was a heavy whirring sound as the chain’s slack was removed, pulling Dana up into a standing position. The whirring stopped for a few seconds, then returned. Dana felt enormous pressure on her wrists and then felt the steel cuffs cutting into her wrists.
“Stop!” she screamed. “It hurts!” She struggled even more as she went up on her tiptoes. She continued to rise as the whirring continued. Then her bare feet left the floor. She hung freely but continued trying to kick the guards.
The pain in her wrists was excruciating. The tight steel cuffs began to cut into her wrists. As she squirmed to try to get out of the cuffs, they cut further into her skin, with small streams of blood immediately becoming visible from underneath the cuffs.
Her screams of pain awoke Randall. He was dazed. He thought he heard screaming but he couldn’t think straight through the haze in his mind. Where was he? He tried to look about the room but could not remain focused. His head was ringing. He felt a warm liquid running down the side of his face. It was blood. He tried to shake his head to clear it but was met with a searing pain in his head. He tried to look up again, his eyes squinting, determined to see clearly what was going on. He could see other people in the room and saw someone hanging from the ceiling but he could not see who it was.
Randall tried to raise a hand to his head but one of the guards stomped heavily on his hand with his heavy boot. He heard the sickening crunch of the bones in his hand but did not feel the pain. As the boot left his hand, he looked blurrily at his crushed appendage and tried to raise it again. This time he felt the pain. A searing pain almost overwhelmed him as he saw his crushed hand hanging limply from his wrist. He looked up at the guard, who was grinning. Blood was oozing from his broken hand.