Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [155]
“Roger, we’ll move in your direction.”
Baltimore sent out a call for a half-dozen other cars to converge on the general area.
The German policeman stopped them before the Südende S-Bahn elevated station. He pointed up to the platform. Blessing told the German to stay put. It was a situation with occupation troops and he was not permitted to interfere. Moreover, he was unarmed. “Danny, call in our exact location, then back me up.”
Blessing took the steps two at a time, stopped at the far end of the platform. Twenty-five yards away, three Russian soldiers had herded a dozen Germans against the cashier’s window and were stripping wallets, taking wrist watches, rummaging through handbags.
He understood the situation instantly—two did the looting, the third held the Germans at bay with a submachine gun. He heard Danny run up the steps behind him, turned, and motioned him to freeze.
Bless walked toward the Russian with the submachine gun. “Tovarich!” The Russians saw him for the first time, like startled deer. “Nyet, nyet, American Sector.”
The Russian with the submachine gun recovered his senses, waved Blessing back. The big cop kept moving forward, pointed his thumb east. “Russian Sector ... go.”
A spray of bullets erupted at his feet!
Blessing smiled, held his arms apart in friendly greeting, and as though he were a defenseless cub, walked toward the amazed Russian. The soldier shoved the barrel into Blessing’s stomach. In a lightning move he disarmed the Russian, knocking him flat on his back.
The other two reached for their pistols.
“Nyet!” Bless cried.
They continued to draw. Two shots barked from Blessing’s .45. Two Russians toppled over. The third had jumped up and fled down the railroad track as Danny tore up the stairs firing.
The Germans screamed and scuttled away from the pools of blood forming on the deck.
Bless heaved a great sigh, wiped the sweat from his face, and replaced his pistol. “Let him go,” he said to Danny. “All right, calm down, calm down, it’s all over. Any of you people speak English?”
“Ya, I do.”
“There is a German officer at the foot of the steps. Get him up here. I want him to record everyone’s name and address and the story of what happened. Tell these people they will be informed where they can claim their possessions.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Calm down now. It’s all over.”
Bless knelt and turned one of the Russians over. The shot had been true, through the heart. The other one was a grotesque sight, a bullet through his face.
They could hear the sirens of support cars.
“Ambulance?” Danny said, fighting off sickness.
“They’re both dead,” Blessing answered. “And the damned fool thing about it is I know they were bluffing. They got to learn if they go for their guns to use them.”
Bless leaned against the building, and bit his lip hard. “You okay, Lieutenant?”
“Yeah ... I’m okay.”
Chapter Ten
NEAL HAZZARD ARRIVED AT the two-story Kommandatura building in Dahlem fifteen minutes before the general session was due to begin for a special meeting with T. E. Blatty, the chairman for the month.
T. E. Blatty, always the perfect gentleman, tall, sandy, well-groomed, arrived a moment later, and as he passed into the confines the Union Jack was raised on the second of four masts, and a British sentry took a post next to the American already posted there.
The two commandants met in Blatty’s office.
“I want to take the nomination of Hans Kronbach off today’s agenda,” Hazzard said.
“You seemed quite keen on the chap when you telephoned me and I think he would be good for us.”
“It has nothing to do with Kronbach. Two Russian soldiers were killed by us last evening. They were caught in the middle of an armed robbery.”
“I heard rumors of it.”
“It’s a lead-pipe cinch Trepovitch is going to blow his top. Today is not the day to push for the nomination of a deputy police president.”
“Speaking quite frankly,” the Englishman answered, “you’re making it a bit awkward, are you not? We can never expect to establish order if we jigger the agenda around every ten minutes.