“Shut up! That pig means nothing to me.”
“That’s not what I saw.”
“And how would you know? I suppose that was playacting when you were suffering from so much shock?”
“Give me some of that coffee before you dump the pot on her,” Wilms said to Elenya. He found the spat entertaining. So many hours had elapsed, and the opportunity of getting one of the women had proved futile. He liked the youngest one, Valeria, but she was beset with too nervous a disposition to cue in on his advances, which, he knew, were obvious and simple. He cursed himself. The other two were simply not interested, especially Monika. His fellow countrywoman made it clear from the beginning she had no use for him. He was simply one of a series of jailors who kept watch over her life. Every word and gesture was laced with anger and resentment. She was hard, brittle, yet Wilms could not help but find that quality all the more attractive. Elenya was a bouncy creature, though. He could see why Detwiler went for her right from the start. Lucky bastard, that bull! There’s no stopping him. He takes what he wants. Wilms’s thoughts were fraught with envy and self-loathing for his inadequacies. Given the opportunity, he wondered if he could have satisfied any of them—or himself. Nothing stirred down there. He chalked it off to poor diet, depletion, and stress. “How despicable,” he said aloud.
“What did you say, Private Wilms?” Monika challenged.
“Nothing. Mind your own business.” The motorcycle could be heard puttering out the door.
“That must be for you.” Monika smiled coldly.
“About time. This hen party is getting on my nerves.” He drained the last of his coffee and collected his rifle and shelter half. Angst opened the door, although he still remained on the saddle. The machine filled the doorway. Monika found this amusing. “Our signalman is ready and waiting. Aren’t you, Wilms?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Wilms said, basically ignoring her and turned on Angst. “Christ, everybody has to pull double duty tonight except you, Angst. How did you become the lieutenant’s favorite all of a sudden?”
Angst put his hand out and looked skyward. “It’s raining.”
“Damn, just my luck,” Wilms cursed as he replaced the bar across the door and, in the confined space of the sidecar, struggled into his shelter half as Angst pulled away.
I’m having difficulty containing myself, Voss thought. He had taken the captain’s advice and napped, if only to be more alert when it came time to act. Since he had woken up, he lurked around the square and kept an eye on the comings and goings at Falkenstein’s headquarters. No one had entered or left the house, as far as he could establish. He resumed his post by the ruins of the administration building; the charred odor of burnt debris had grown stronger now that the rain had begun. He put up the hood of the camouflage field jacket. “I’m wavering,” he said aloud. It’s only nerves, he told himself; nerves and worry. Waiting and not knowing, especially about Khan. He’s not been seen since he went off with the captain, hours ago, and has yet to return. That means he could be anywhere. Then Voss remembered he had lain down for a time in the Hanomag. Khan could have returned then. Damn, how could I be so thoughtless! Voss was tempted to nose around the scout car but thought better of it. That would only arouse suspicion. Wait until Angst arrives, along with whomever else he brings along. My accomplices. The thought made him laugh. Christ, where is Angst? He looked at his watch. Eighteen hundred thirty hours. How long does it take to ride from one end of this flyspeck of a town to the other? Then he heard the motorcycle. Angst drove with a little too much fanfare as he entered the square, circling around broadly before stopping in front of the assembly hall. There was only one passenger—Mueller—in the sidecar, and no one on the seat behind the driver’s saddle. Terrific! The corporal cannot follow a simple basic order. How will he fare with something truly challenging? Voss watched as the two grenadiers entered the hall, his stomach quivering in anticipation, and a terrible urge to defecate became all too real. His body was revolting against him. He looked at his watch again. Come on, Angst, the administration building…drop Mueller off and meet me by the administration building at eighteen hundred thirty hours, of which you are late by two minutes, eight seconds, and counting! How explicit must I be? I have to stop thinking, worrying. This is worse than precombat jitters. The anxiety was uniquely different, decidedly so. Of course it is. I have never staged a coup before. Perhaps Reinhardt was right, a mutiny. I’m a mutineer. No, absolutely not. The king is mad. Falkenstein!
The rain splattered noisily. Voss turned his attention to the house. Nothing. Dark and lifeless. Footsteps padding across the wet ground. Angst, finally! Wordlessly, the corporal drew up beside him, submachine gun dangling from a strap thrown over a shoulder. “You’re late and alone. Didn’t I tell you to bring someone along?”
“Sorry, Lieutenant. I considered Braun, but he’s experiencing something of a nervous condition since our return from the river. He’s too rattled.”
“What about the other one, Schmidt? Has he a delicate constitution as well?”
“I didn’t think you’d want him to abandon his post. I can go fetch him.”
Voss could have struck him. “Never mind, it’s too late for that. This will only mean more work for the two of us. Our task won’t be easy.”
“And what might that be, sir?”
“I’m going in to see the captain. I want you to work your way to the house from the rear. Station yourself near the front, but don’t let anyone see you, and don’t let anyone enter. Should Khan venture anywhere near the house, shoot him on sight.”
Angst’s heart began to race. “You’re taking over command.”
“Know your place, Corporal. The less you know, the better off you will be for it. Have you already forgotten our little chat from this afternoon?”
“Does Sergeant Reinhardt know what you plan to do?”
Voss was exasperated by the question but realized if he was to solicit the grenadier’s aid, he would have to be more forthcoming. “The sergeant will not participate or interfere. That is why you are here—to help me police the situation, should it become necessary. That’s why an extra hand would have been helpful.”
The irony of the situation was not lost on Angst. Had he known he would have brought along two sets of hands, Braun and Schmidt. “You’ll hang for this, Lieutenant.”
“Possibly. Should that be my eventual fate, then my death will have served a larger purpose. I will have freed you all from the grip of a madman.”
Thoughts swirled around Angst’s tired brain. This was all happening too fast. Monika was waiting for word, and Braun was chomping on the bit to leave straight away. He was tempted to tell Voss of their plan to leave: the women, the car, everything. “Why don’t we just go, Lieutenant? Everyone who wants to, pile into the Hanomag and drive off. Let the captain and anyone else crazy enough to join him battle it out with Red Vengeance.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Corporal. Besides, it’s not my way. Announcing our departure will only pit one camp against the other and some, for whatever reason—lack of conviction, indecision—would be left to dangle in between. I’m doing this in the hope of avoiding catastrophe, not force a bloody confrontation.” Enough talk. It is time to act. “Cover me, and remember, don’t let Khan into the house.” He walked across the square toward the scout car. The ground was starting to turn into a sea of mud. The armored shutter on the side port was open, and Voss peered in. He could barely distinguish Vogel sitting before the illuminated dials of the radio set. Vogel removed the headphones. “All quiet, Lieutenant. The weather has chased everyone under cover.”