‘Jawohl!’ the prisoners cried.
‘Strip!’
The prisoners moved to obey the first of the guard’s orders. They removed their ill-fitting uniforms and exposed their emaciated bodies as if the men were taking part in some grotesque beauty pageant. As they waited to be examined, a couple of Kapos hurried around the feet of the men, gathering up the discarded bundles of clothing and creating several large piles of trousers, boots, tunics and caps in the washroom. Out of sight of the guards, these same Kapos then took advantage and pocketed any contraband such as scraps of food, home-made weapons, drugs and mementos they found in the coarse clothing.
While the prisoners undressed, Blomberg went through his orders for the upcoming operation. Each prisoner was to be allocated one of two numbers: Eins or Zwei; one or two. Number one assigned its owner to the Odin, while number two would condemn its holder to the colony’s gas chambers. Blomberg’s guidelines regarding this selection process were equally clear and simple. Strong healthy prisoners who exhibited signs of intelligence were to be earmarked for the ship. The definition of intelligence in Nazi eyes being able to understand simple instructions, however, prisoners who passed this criterion but exhibited overt criminal or un-Aryan physical features were to be automatically excluded for propaganda reasons. Even the slaves for the new world would have to look heroic.
‘Are you ready to begin, Herr Blomberg?’ the Commandant asked.
Blomberg nodded as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves and switched on his scanner.
The lottery began, but the results of the initial examinations were disappointing. The first prisoner to be called forward had a severely crooked leg, the result of a recent break that had failed to knit together properly, while the second man looked painfully thin, even by the camp’s grim standards, and so the Blomberg was forced to grab their arms and with his scanner he branded a stark “2” into their bony arms. These unfortunate prisoners, the first of hundreds that day, were frog-marched out of the dormitory.
Time passed as the examinations continued and Blomberg made his way along the rows of shivering men. He waved the scanner across countless bodies and arms. If the scanner’s display was dominated by the colour red this indicated an unhealthy prisoner, while green was the colour of good health. Unfortunately, from the mission’s point of view, the colour red was dominating the day’s proceedings and a steady stream of men were exiting the dormitory. During all this time, Konrad waited patiently, listening to the electronic chimes of Blomberg’s scanner as it drew closer. Eventually he summoned up the courage to lean forward and look along the line of naked men. He saw that not only was the weary-looking Blomberg only a few prisoners away from waving his sinister wand over him, but at his side, looming like some feared winter storm, was his nemesis, Stahl.
‘Shit,’ he mumbled under his breath. He prayed that somehow he could magically render his flesh invisible to the sight of this approaching Nazi. Predictably it would prove to be a forlorn hope.
‘We meet again, my curious little friend,’ Stahl said with a sly, wolfish grin as he stopped before Konrad. He looked up at the Nazi, but he again employed silence as his reply. Stahl half-expected this and his grin grew even wider before he replied. ‘You never were the talkative type, were you?’ He looked around the dormitory. ‘I was wondering from which shit-hole you crawled from. It suits you,’ Stahl smiled. ‘Tell me, do you think that you’ll have the good luck to be selected to go on the mission?’
‘It’s not for me to say,’ Konrad answered.
‘Very wise words. But if I were you I’d pray that I was chosen. There must have been other items in the shuttle’s hold that you saw.’
‘I only saw the colonists, Herr Sturmbannführer.’
‘The Zyklon-B, for example.’
Konrad reacted to the words by lowering his gaze again.
‘I thought so,’ Stahl nodded. ‘I just hope for your own sake that you remained silent about any such discovery.’
‘I did. A man can still keep some secrets to himself. Even in a place like this.’
‘Very wise words,’ Stahl said. He then cupped his chin and quietly pondered. Once again, a devilish smile crossed his face. ‘In fact, I think that your astute attitude should be rewarded in some way.’
‘I’m to be rewarded?’ Konrad asked quietly.
‘Quite so. I have a proposition for you. A man of my stature will require a servant. A slave, you might say. I think you know that accompanying us on our mission is highly preferable to the fate that awaits you if you remain here, despite what the Commandant said.’
Konrad’s mind whirled. What should he say? The Nazi was absolutely correct in what he said. He knew full well that the Zyklon-B was to be used on the remaining prisoners. There was a chance that he’d be picked by Doctor Blomberg, but there was also a chance, a very real chance, that he’d be rejected. Some of his comrades may have been naive enough to believe the Commandant and his promises of a new life elsewhere, but he wasn’t so foolish after what he and Gigolo had found in the hold.
‘But what if the doctor doesn’t select me?’ Konrad asked Stahl anxiously.
‘Don’t worry, my friend, Doctor Blomberg is just like you. He will obey whatever orders are given to him.’ With that, Stahl spun on his heels and called to his colleague. ‘Herr Blomberg!’
The doctor joined Stahl in front of Konrad.
‘How goes the selections?’ Stahl asked.
‘Not very well, I’m afraid,’ Blomberg replied.
‘Well, if I were you, I’d fret no more,’ Stahl exclaimed. ‘I’ve a mind to select this prisoner here as my personal servant.’ He placed a brotherly arm around Konrad’s shoulder. ‘I need you to examine him as a priority. I have no doubts that he’d be well suited for our needs on Vanaheim.’
Blomberg eyed the prisoner sceptically as he waved his scanner and waited for the results to appear.
While he waited, Stahl looked across Konrad’s ruined bunk. Amongst the broken wood and torn bedding he spotted a single wooden beam. The beam of warped wood rose from the jumble of blankets, its position mirroring the image sketched upon it. It was the beam upon which Konrad had drawn his vision of the spire. Stahl cocked his head like a curious dog as he knelt to examine the primitive shape. Like Konrad before him, he traced the shape’s phallic outline with his hand. Konrad sensed this intrusion upon his, until now, secret gallery. He furtively glanced at the curious Nazi. Stahl’s eyes narrowed with interest as he continued to examine the plank of wood. The shape was somehow familiar. Had he seen it before?
The scanner then chimed and broke the spell.
Stahl cast the plank to one side and shot up from the floor. ‘Well, Blomberg, is he to accompany us or not?’
Blomberg lowered the scanner. ‘No.’
‘No?’ Stahl exclaimed. His disappointment was as obvious as Konrad’s.
‘I’m afraid he can’t be selected,’ Blomberg said. ‘He’s unfit and therefore not suitable for the mission. I have very specific orders in this regard.’
‘I beg to differ, Herr Blomberg,’ Stahl said, his gaze frozen upon Konrad. ‘Select him.’
The doctor offered the scanner to provide the evidence for his decision. ‘Take a look for yourself, Stahl. This prisoner has mild malnutrition and to be honest, his physical profile hardly fits the ideal profile of the worker we want to take with us. Perhaps there is another prisoner you can employ as your servant. I’m sure there are more suitable candidates from the pool of men we’ve already selected.’
‘I don’t care. I want you to select him,’ Stahl persisted.