‘The girl is in good hands. Our young men's hands. She will be enjoyed by them. No doubt she will also enjoy herself with the best of our manhood.' Kragan continued in German, but saw no change in the Englishman, no sign of recognition, no flicker of anxiety. He stood up and turned to Kaas. 'I don't know. Maybe he understands, maybe he doesn't. But it'll take more than a few bruises to soften him up. I want five storm troopers to give that girl the time of her life. And I mean all together. When he sees her, I want him to know they've fucked her in every hole she's got. Everywhere. His bruises aren't going to hurt him, make sure the ones on her will.'
'Okay.' Kaas left the room.
Adam kept his silence and cursed his helplessness. If he allowed them to know he understood German, it would've made little difference. They just wanted to break him and would use any means available. Get the hands free, Marcus. Sit it out until I've got my hands free. Oh, Billie. I must've been crazy to let you come with me.
'Where is she?' Adam heard himself ask Kragan.
'Miss Knutsford. That's no matter.' Kragan answered in English. 'Who else knows you are here?'
'What're you talking about? Why should…?' He stopped and gritted his teeth as Kragan lashed out at him, punching him sharply in the ribs.
'You know what I'm talking about,' Kragan shouted. Who else knows?'
'I said, I…'
Kragan smacked him again, this time open palmed across his cheek. Then he jabbed him in the ribs again. Three more times, harder and more furious with each blow. Then Kragan kicked him in the stomach and as Adam doubled forward, he kneed him in the cheek, sending him sprawling backwards, banging his head against the wall. Before he could recover, Kragan punched him sharply, twice, in the ribs again. The pain seared through Adam, almost sending him into unconsciousness once again.
'Who else knows?' repeated Kragan coolly.
'I don't…shit, I don't know…'
'The pain you feel now is nothing to what the others will do. Why are you here? We know you were in America together. That the Americans called you in to protect our friend Heinrich Trimmler. Do you know who killed him. Hey?'
'I don't know.'
'Did you kill him? Is that why you ran away? With the girl.' He waited for Adam to answer, but nothing was forthcoming. He jabbed the Englishman twice in the ribs again, watched him fight to control the pain, watched his victim's eyes drift back into focus. 'Why come after Albert Goodenache? Why did he die?'
'I don't know.'
'The newspaper says you are a British soldier. That the girl is an American agent. That you were in Nordhausen when poor Albert was killed. Why?'
Come on, Marcus. If it's not these chaps, then who? Who's fucking responsible for all that's been going on.
'Where's the girl?' he asked again.
'Who else knows?' Once again, then the repeated jabs to Adam's ribs. Then the question once again as the pain subsided. 'Who else knows?'
Behind Kragan, Adam saw Kaas come back into the room. He realised he hadn't been anywhere, that it had been a trick they played on him to see if he spoke German. So she was all right. He had to believe that. He couldn't afford to believe otherwise.
'Where's the girl?'
Kragan swung round in disgust. 'I didn't tell you to come back,' he barked at Kaas in German.
'You won't get anywhere like that,' replied Kaas. 'This boy's been in the wars. He's no soft…'
'Then you find out what's going on. I don't care how. Just get it done.'
Kragan stormed out of the small room as Kaas crossed over to Adam.
'He doesn't understand, Mr Nicholson.' He chuckled. 'It it takes more than a few bruises, and a few kicks, to make people like us talk. eh?'
Adam didn't respond. He saw the psychotic in Curly Top, saw the arrogance of the bully paraded before him. We're in for a rough time, Marcus. This guy doesn't do it for anything but fun.
Kaas leant forward and dragged Adam to his feet as he yelled for the guards to come in and help him. Adam didn't struggle; no point in wasting energy when all he'd get for his efforts would be a clip round the ear. He had to wait, keep patient until a time for action presented itself. There was always such an instance. The key was in recognising it, not letting the moment pass.
'Our men will soon get the truth out of him,' reported Kragan.
'You've had long enough,' Frick retorted sharply, the anxiety in his voice obvious. 'We have to find out what these people are up to. I don't want any more time being wasted on this shit. There is no more time. We need to prepare ourselves. Our moment is here.'
They were in the big room on the second floor that served as Frick's office. It had once been the master bedroom and looked out on the woods to the east. Frick stared at the winter scene, the snow now falling heavily.
'Their pictures were spread all over the news bulletins. Pictures that could only have come from the Americans or British.' Kragan answered warily. Frick hated being contradicted and often flew into a rage when put in such a position.
This time Frick was thoughtful. 'Or the Russians. To embarrass the Americans. And to force us out into the open.'
'It's very possible, Fuhrer.'
'Are there any changes in Berlin?' asked Frick.
'Buhle says not.'
'I hope he keeps his mouth shut.'
'He's a newspaper man. He's used to secrets.' Kragan didn't add that he had never trusted the newspaper proprietor who sat on the Council. Not that he wasn't loyal to the cause, but because he enjoyed his own sense of importance too much.
'He's also used to leaks,' stated Frick. 'But he's all we've got at the moment.'
'If there are any changes, I'm sure we'll find out in time. I think it's unlikely. These things are planned and rehearsed well ahead of schedule.'
'As long as no-one suspects. Just find out what the Englishman and his woman know. They could hold the key that saves us.'
Her fear had turned to anxiety, then to boredom and now to anger.
Billie had been roughly bundled by a group of storm troopers away from the burning car and into the Dresden Heidi. She remembered screaming, remembered one of the storm troopers punching her in the face to stop her. As they dragged her away from the flaming Audi, she had turned and seen Adam lying on the road, shielding himself. She had shouted out to them, 'Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him!' but it was lost in the general mêlée and then she was punched once again, this time harder and more painfully. She felt her top lip swell up as she tasted blood, and she said nothing more. She could only think of Adam and pray he would be all right.
They'd thrown her into a jeep and driven into the Heidi, through the woods, to a large wooden building hidden in the trees. They manhandled her out of the vehicle and through the front doors, down the corridor and into the small, windowless and empty room that had become her home for the last nine hours.
Nobody had visited her. Her only companion was the bright light that was set high in the wall and shielded behind a thick opaque glass cover with bars.
When the fear eased, she had banged on the locked wooden door, but there had been no response, apart from the laughter of the guards who were stationed on the other side.
There was no furniture in the room, just wooden slatted walls and a wooden blocked floor. It was uncomfortable, but the wood kept it from being cold.
She sat in a corner facing the door, her lip now hurting badly. She tried to imagine what Adam would have her do, how he would want her to handle herself. She worked hard at it, at bringing herself under control, at pushing the fear back.
Nine hours after she'd been bundled into the room, they unceremoniously dumped Adam in with her. The door was quickly opened and shut, and suddenly he was there with her.