Five Past Midnight - James Thayer [83]
He sat on the other side of Becker. The colonel's gaze pivoted back and forth between Cray and Katrin.
She said, "Colonel, I don't have time to fool with you. You are going to obtain the Chancellery roster and bring it to me."
His breath was in his throat. He moved his head slightly, a negative.
"Take that bandage off," she ordered Cray.
The American pulled off the wrap, wincing as the adhesive tugged at his skin.
"Colonel, look at this man," she said.
Becker turned again to Cray.
She said, "This is the man on the posters all over the city. This is the Vassy Chateau killer."
Becker's face whitened even more. His mouth pulled back in a grimace of fear.
Katrin's voice was iron. "He is going to slit your throat right now, right on this bench, if you don't agree to bring me that roster."
Becker lost control of himself, leaning slightly toward Katrin.
Cray's face opened in astonishment. He blurted, "No, I'm not."
She persisted. "Colonel, this American is a ruthless killer. His knife is in his sleeve, the same one he used at the chateau. And he is going to do what he does best, on you, right now, unless you agree."
"No, I'm not." Cray held up his palms toward her. "I never said that."
Katrin ignored him. "Make your decision, Colonel."
Becker stared at Jack Cray, weighing the American's face, with its stony angles and pugilist's nose and draftee's haircut.
Cray tried a smile. "She's just teasing."
"Colonel, are you going to do what I say," she asked, "or are you living your last seconds?"
Becker closed his eyes in surrender. His voice could be heard just above the rush of the wind. "I might be able to get a copy of the roster."
Katrin stood. "Place it in the drop by tomorrow evening." She stared at him levelly. "If it is not there, I will anonymously telephone the Gestapo about your activities against the state. Then they will come for you, irrespective of what General Etzdorf tells them." She started back toward the street, making her way around mud-filled craters.
Cray shook his head and said to Becker, "She's been through a lot."
"You are planning to suborn someone on the Chancellery roster, hoping to get into the Führer's headquarters?"
Cray said nothing.
"You are too late," Becker said with some satisfaction. "The Führer is leaving Berlin tonight."
The American demanded, "How do you know that?"
"When the leader leaves the city, hundreds of orders are issued to accommodate the move. One of them is that the Chancellery guard is drastically reduced. It happens every time, a pattern. I know it because orders regarding the Chancellery contingent are distributed through my office."
"How will he leave Berlin?"
"Train or plane. Most rail bridges have been knocked out, so probably by plane."
"Tempelhof isn't operating, is it? The runways have been dug up by bombers."
"The Führer never leaves from Tempelhof. He uses an airstrip in the Tiergarten."
"And you know this because you see the guard detachment rosters?"
Becker nodded. He glanced tensely at Cray's hands.
"Well, nuts." The American pulled at his chin. "Nothing's ever easy, is it?"
"Pardon?"
Cray smiled at Becker. "Don't forget the roster. Put it in the drop." He left the bench and ran after Katrin. At her elbow he asked, "Will you kindly not do that again?"
"What?" she asked, all innocence.
"Use my face to frighten someone."
As she neared the street, her shoes sinking in the mud, she turned to him. "Don't you do whatever works? Isn't that what you commandos are trained to do?"
"Well..."
"That's just what I did." She turned west, walking briskly along the sidewalk.
A convoy of Wehrmacht trucks passed, three of them still painted in the light swirling colors of desert camouflage, oddly cheery in drab Berlin.
He followed her. "Well, you could hurt my feelings, doing that."
She stopped cold.