The lieutenant laughed. “If I did, I could sell them for a fortune.”
Cullen turned on the shower and stepped in wearing his skivvies. He howled as the cold water hit him. “Did the good general say why he wanted us?” he asked.
“Yeah. There was a shooting and two of our guys are dead.”
Tanner stripped and stepped into his shower and let the cold water run over his body. By God, it was working. He could feel life returning to his tortured body. “This is still a war, so what is so damned important about two guys getting shot?”
“The general thinks it might have been Werewolves.”
“Aw shit,” Tanner said. “Lieutenant, do you think you might get us a full pot of black GI coffee along with a knife to cut it with?”
* * *
Two hours later and with Sergeant Hill to guide them, they drove to where the two dead soldiers still lay. There had been no attempt to move them or take them to a hospital. They were clearly dead with their heads nearly blown off. Even though sickened by the sight, Tanner acknowledged that it was very good shooting.
“Don’t look for the provost marshal’s boys to come and investigate,” said Hill. He looked pale but otherwise okay. Tanner and Cullen had each pronounced the other to be a little greenish.
“Why not?” asked Tanner. “This is a murder. These guys aren’t anywhere near the front lines. Somebody sneaked up on them and killed them in cold blood. The cops should be involved.”
“Regardless,” said Hill, “I was told when I called that they were busy collecting deserters and black marketeers. I also think they might have a point. Whoever did this is military. While waiting for you to get here, I reconnoitered and found a firing position that indicated two men waiting and shooting. Just like that time on the road.”
Tanner nodded. “And I’ll bet nothing personal was taken.”
“Correct, Captain. These two boys still had their wallets and ID. They even had some money in their wallets. All of it was untouched.”
“So why were they killed? Just targets of opportunity?” asked Tanner.
“Maybe, even probably. But also they were queer and you know how the Nazis feel about queers. They hate them even more than we do. Yeah, I cleaned up the place and I got the guys who found them to promise to keep quiet about these two guys getting caught with their pants down, literally. They probably got shot with their hands on each other’s dick.”
“Any chance that the scene was staged?” Cullen asked. Like all soldiers, he held homosexuals in contempt. If caught they would have been court-martialed and made to serve long prison sentences. Homosexuality was one of the worst crimes a soldier could commit.
“No,” said Hill. “People heard the shots and the alarm was sounded. The snipers probably ran off first chance they got.”
With that new thought, they walked to the firing point. From impressions in the dirt, they could see where two men had crawled up to where they could take a clean shot and killed the GIs. Was it Werewolves or did the two Americans just run into a couple of German soldiers sneaking around? Either way, the Provost Marshal was not going to be involved.
Tanner rubbed his eyes. His headache was returning. “We will report them as killed in action by German snipers, which is close enough to the truth. Ignorance might keep their families from finding out about their relations. Nothing else matters. If there really are Werewolves, then we are going to have to be especially vigilant.”
“More patrols?” Hill asked.
Tanner stood and dusted himself off. “Yeah, and maybe this time they’ll be sober.”
* * *
Ernie Janek was worried sick. He had grown fond of Winnie Tyler of Philadelphia and now she was across the German border in Bregenz on some damn fool errand for Dulles. She was supposed to have gotten back the day before, but the news of Hitler’s death had changed things. The border was tightly sealed. Clearly the Germans were concerned about some kind of reaction to their beloved Fuhrer’s death. Maybe they were concerned that a lot of their loyal followers would desert and flee to Switzerland, taking themselves out of the war. What a happy thought, he concluded.
Ernie had been lying hidden in shrubs for the better part of the day and now it was becoming dark. He was a hundred yards from the fence and a mile from the normal checkpoint. It was where he was supposed to wait if something had gone wrong. Well, it looked like something had damn well gone wrong. It was now an hour past the time when Winnie should have arrived.
He shifted slightly and felt the bulge in his pocket. It was a Walther P38 pistol. Since it was of German make, he hoped it would confuse people if it was found on him. Guns were frowned upon by the Swiss and he generally didn’t carry one, but he made an exception for this day. As he always said, what could the Swiss do besides throw him out? Besides, he was reasonably confident that Dulles would intercede for him. Dulles was concerned as well, but he’d told Ernie that delays like this were to be anticipated. The spy game did not run like a railroad. Or a Swiss watch. Still, he didn’t like it.
Day became a partly cloudy night and still no Winnie. He wondered if the Germans knew he was lying where he was. If so, he should move, but he couldn’t. This was the secondary exit point she was going to use if leaving through the checkpoint like a regular visitor wasn’t feasible. He checked his watch. In a few minutes another time frame would have passed. He was to do nothing until he spotted her and then use his discretion about actually helping her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he detected motion and froze. Two German soldiers walked along the fence line, only a few feet inside the border. He’d seen them before and they had a regular route. They did not look terribly concerned about anything. They carried their rifles slung over their shoulders and not in their arms. He could hear their voices and they seemed to be talking casually about something. Probably Hitler, he thought. It would be a good half hour before they got back. If Winnie could see them and was careful, she could get to the fence without being seen.
But then what? He made an easy decision. He would do what he could to make it easier for Winnie to escape.
When he thought it was clear, he crawled to the fence and paused. Nothing. He took out the wire clippers he’d brought and carefully snipped several strands until he thought he’d cleared enough space for a small person like Winnie to slither through. He smiled. The thought of her slithering was intriguing.
“Hurry!” It was Winnie’s voice and she was only a few yards away. How the devil had she gotten so close? He snipped the last wire and pulled them aside, thankful that the Germans hadn’t yet hung any bells on the wire.
She crawled up to the wire. Her face was filthy and contorted. “Help me. I’m hurt.”
Ernie crawled through the opening and grabbed her arms. He crawled backwards and pulled her. She groaned and stifled it. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Just pull me, damn it. Be sorry later.”
He braced himself and pulled hard. A piece of wire gouged along her arm and she barely stopped a scream.
Ernie pulled again and she was free. He knew they should crawl back but he doubted that she could do it. She looked like she’d been through the proverbial wringer. Nuts, he thought. Let Dulles fire me.
He stood and scooped her into his arms. She put her arms around his neck and he thought she was crying. He walked back into the shadows just as he heard someone on the other side yell, followed by an angry response. They were safe, at least for the moment. He didn’t think the Germans would send any soldiers across the border, or even shoot into Swiss territory.
“Can you walk? The car’s a little ways down the road.”
“Yes, but you’ll have to help me.”
“Do you need a doctor?”
Winnie took a deep breath. “I don’t think so.” The clouds cleared and he could see her more clearly. Her face was a mass of bruises. The dress that made her look overweight was ripped and filthy. “Don’t look at me,” she commanded angrily.