Five Past Midnight - James Thayer [100]
"He is still inside, goddamn it. But I don't know where."
Rudolf Koder emerged from the house, leading a line of agents and troopers. His black coat was shiny in the night, looking wet. His mouth was a grim line. He marched to the second armored car and yelled an order Dietrich couldn't hear over the sound of its engine.
The troopers and agents backed away from the house, giving the armored car a clear field of fire.
Dietrich rushed up to Koder. "What in hell are you doing?"
"The American is in that house." Koder did not bother looking at Dietrich. He walked away, hands casually in his coat pockets. "He won't let me find him, so he leaves me no alternative."
The sudden blare was of a bellows, a loud windy howl. The night lit up, painting Dietrich and Hilfinger and all the others in orange light. A stream of fire gushed from the second armored car's nozzle. The flood of liquid flame surged across the lawn and coursed up the steps and into the house. The fire stream roared and popped, and it splashed against the house as the gunner swung the nozzle left and right. The force of the flood blew in the front room windows, which instantly filled with flame. The blazing spray climbed to the second story and poured into the windows. Fuel dropped in puddles onto the lawn under the fiery stream, and ignited, leaving a trail of fire to the house. The flamethrower was then directed at the base of the house, covering the porch and even the azaleas with flame. Dietrich shielded his eyes from the furious light. The armored car filled the hole where the door had been with fire.
Within seconds, nothing of the front facade could be seen. Fire rose three stories and beyond, swirling in the air above the house, and sending sparks even higher. Black smoke churned up from the fire, but was quickly lost in the night. Everything—the dormers and parapets, the flues and chimneys, the cornices and shutters, the roof cresting and door casings—was lost behind the boiling curtain.
Fire enveloped the house, which became a torch, nothing visible but flames. Golden washes of flame peaked fifty meters above the roof. In his robe the gauleiter had joined the Gestapo agents, giving a series of orders they ignored. The von Tornitz house was still surrounded by Black- shirts and Gestapo agents and policemen, but they had to withdraw, away from the heat, into the street and adjoining yards. They watched the conflagration. Where was the American?
Dietrich and Hilfinger retreated to the far curb. Even here the heat was on their faces. Behind them was an elm grove that partly hid a vast and dark house that had once belonged to a Berlin banking family.
Staring at the backlit figure of Rudolf Koder, Dietrich muttered, "If I had anything left of myself, any courage at all..."
Hilfinger leaned toward him to hear, but Dietrich let his words trail off, even left the thought uncompleted.
For half an hour they watched. The blazing house fell in on itself, and continued to angrily burn, the red core getting smaller and smaller. Clouds of smoke lifted skyward. The fire sighed and hissed.
The troopers returned to their trucks. The armored cars and the tanks and fire trucks and motorcycles receded, all loudly, all with the neighbors watching from dark windows. Even the gauleiter went home.
Koder crossed the street. "Where's the American?"
"Dead in the ashes."
"No person—not even this crazed American commando—can sit calmly in a fire and burn to death. He should have cried out. He should have made a run for safety."
In the tone of one addressing a child, Dietrich said, "He was in the house, and the house burned down."
Koder's eyes dug into Dietrich, who would not look down, not like all the times in the prison. Finally the Gestapo agent turned toward his car and walked away.
"Are we done for the night?" Peter Hilfinger asked.
"Maybe more than just for the night." Dietrich stared at the remains of the house, much of it still glowing and steaming. He