Five Past Midnight - James Thayer [22]
Cray said, "May I ask your name, ma'am?"
"Helga Engelman."
"I searched the house, Frau Engelman. Where were you?"
"Outside. I saw you coming, and walked around the house in front of you, always keeping a corner between me and you."
"You walk pretty quietly, sneaking up on me like that, Frau Engelman."
She laughed sharply. "I'll bet it hasn't happened often to you, has it?"
He glanced at her. "No, it hasn't."
"I was in the kitchen when I heard the front-porch boards squeak. So I grabbed my dead husband's bird gun, which I keep in the kitchen to discourage refugees looking for food."
"Well, I was just looking for food, too."
"At least they knock," she chided. "You were concentrating on the Strudel and didn't hear me sneak up on you."
"I'll profit from that lesson, then."
"No point in profiting from a lesson you don't survive," she said. "What with me about to shoot you."
"Are you running your farm alone, Frau Engelman?"
"Two summers ago during the harvest my husband lay down between two apple trees and never got up again. A heart attack. You look better in his clothes than he did."
Cray worked the maul, pushing the halved wood to one side.
She added, "My husband used to split wood, just like you. I miss the firewood more than I miss him, I'm afraid."
Cray split another log, then another.
"You are a commando," Mrs. Engelman said. "Am I right?"
"Well, not really.. .."
"Remember." She wiggled the shotgun. "I have an ear for the lie."
"I'm a commando." Cray put the maul and wedge to one side, then lifted the ax.
"What is your group called?"
"Rangers, ma'am." Cray placed one of the split logs on the block. The ax whistled and the wood split in two.
"Have you done your commando work in Germany?"
"Some." Cray swung the ax again. He was breathing quickly from his efforts.
"What's the worst thing you've ever done to my homeland?"
Cray turned to her, the ax hanging at his side. "Why in the world would I reveal that to a German woman holding a shotgun on me?"
"Because I'm holding a shotgun on you."
He lifted another piece of wood. Again he worked the ax. "I sank a submarine once."
"You sank a submarine? By yourself?"
Cray nodded. "The submarine belonged to the Kriegsmarine's.
Tenth Flotilla, and was in a pen at Lorient, on France's west coast. The subpens were under twenty feet of concrete and had proven impervious to bombing raids."
"How did you do it?" Frau Engelman's face was expectant, as if she were about to hear tantalizing gossip.
"I was parachuted into Brittany, twenty-five miles inland, north of the base. Traveling at night and avoiding the roads, I made it to Lorient in three days."
"Don't we Germans defend submarine bases?"
"I got inside the base by burying myself in a locomotive's coal car. Then with a satchel charge in a rubberized bag, I swam to U-495, which was in the yard for fuel and provisions." "The U-495?"
"Kapitan leutnant Rolf Strenka's boat that had sunk HMS Valiant."
"So what did you do to our poor submarine?"
Cray bent a little to look at her hands. "You know, Frau Engelman, the safest way to hold a shotgun is to have your finger resting on the trigger guard, not around the trigger."
"I'm perfectly safe with my finger on the trigger." She smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. "So what did you do to my submarine?"
Cray began again with the ax. "I used blow ports for handholds, and climbed the hull, and dropped the satchel into the forward hatch. Then I slid back into the water. The blast tore U-495 in two. The sub sank in the pen."
"I presume you survived."
"I swam three miles to sea and opened a dye pack. I was plucked out of the water by a float plane captured from the Luftwaffe's sea-rescue service. The plane still had its Luftwaffe markings."
The shotgun barrel lowered slightly. The old lady studied him as he worked. A line of sweat formed on Cray's forehead.