That’s their name. But it wasn’t just them hiding in those camps. It was some of the ones from close to Berlin, the really black bastards. They had their escape plans ready for years. Some of them went to places like South America, can you believe it?”
“Where did you learn all this, Opa?”
“I forget.”
“You read it?”
“I said, I forget.”
“But you know a lot.”
“I forget a lot too. A happy man does both equally well.”
There was something sharp in the retort. Then his grandfather’s face softened.
“Look,” he said. “There were ‘ratlines’ everywhere.
Switzerland, Italy, here. Some of them went right to the Vatican, they say. That’s what I’m talking about. Along with loot they’d stolen off Jews, that went with them, some of it anyway. That’s never going to see the light of day, now, is it?”
“Up here?”
“Why not? You ask where I heard this. It was years ago. That’s why I am ashamed to tell you. I went to Grade Six, Felix, but look at you, and Lisi Uni. Fantastic.”
“You heard rumours, gossip?”
“That’s it. People back then believed anything. Remember, this was after the war, when one potato was a feast. People make up stories here in the hills, it’s natural: a giant deer, or a wolf with red eyes, a giant, a mountain of gold anything.”
“Who could tell me?”
His grandfather leaned against the countertop and massaged his knuckles.
“Who?”
“Niemand,” his grandfather said. “No one.”
The door opened and Felix’s grandmother came in giggling at something Speckbauer had said in a low voice.
“Such kindness, I will not forget this. Truly.”
Felix’s opa nodded at Speckbauer in return for his compliment.
There was a sardonic glint in his eye, Felix noticed. He remembered his opa mock-grumbling about her falling for anything in uniform after Felix had shown them his Gendarmerie uniform.
“I have asked your wife’s kind indulgence, Herr Nagl,”
Speckbauer said. “If I might leave Franzi here a little while so that Felix and I may continue with some business that needs attending to.”
As though on cue, Franzi appeared by the window and nodded.
“I hope that is not an imposition.”
“He’ll be put to work.”
“I’m sure that will be a joy to him, Herr Nagl.”
THIRTY-SIX
Speckbauer repeated Felix’s question.
“How long, you say?”
He had closed the passenger door and was trying to find a comfortable way to fit himself in the confines of the seat of Felix’s Polo.
There was a smell of soap off him. He did not look like a man who had spent half the night in a ditch watching the comings and goings in the Nagl home.
“Exactly,” said Felix, shielding his eyes from the morning sun.
“How long before we get real help here?”
“Franzi can do lots,” said Speckbauer.
“He can barely move.”
“Not so. He takes relaxants if he has to do exertions.”
“So, he’ll be half-drugged, being a sleeping bodyguard for my grandparents?”
“Is he a bodyguard?”
“He better be. What if those guys, or that guy decides to come back.”
“This is what we are working on, you and me. Why we’re going to pay a proper visit to that pub in Weiz. This time we lean on him.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t tell you? Mr. Friendly who serves up the drinks.
Remember him? Well he does me the occasional favour. Today, it will suit him to do one. Let’s go.”
Again Felix thought about the maps and photocopies he had put under the bed.
“Geh’ma jetzt,” said Speckbauer with an edge of impatience.
“Let’s go now.”
“Give me a minute,” said Felix. “I forgot something.”
He made it upstairs with no more than a greeting from his grandmother. When he came back into the yard, Franzi and Speckbauer were standing by the back of the Passat. Speckbauer was rummaging in the trunk. When Franzi saw Felix, he said something and held the lid down halfway. Something that Speckbauer was doing with the contents of the trunk stopped Franz closing it anymore.
“Jesus, Franzi!” Speckbauer said, emerging from under the trunk-lid.
Felix saw two grey sleeveless jackets over an open container, or case. They were Kevlar vests, the patrol- duty cut that he had trained in.
Speckbauer stood upright slowly. He held the trunk lid and looked at Felix.
“Our toy box,” he said.
Felix didn’t want to look surprised.
“We take things with us,” said Speckbauer.
The metal box Felix had seen yesterday was open. Felix recognized the AUG 88 lying on one side, with its stock folded.
“You carry that stuff?”
“‘Stuff’?”
“An assault rifle,” said Felix. “The same one we trained on in the Service.”
“So,” said Speckbauer.
“We lock them behind two doors at the post. But you, in the trunk of a car…?”
“Okay,” said Speckbauer. “It looks serious, doesn’t it? Don’t go academic on me. Bad police, bad police state, etc. We have to move on this thing.”
There were also electronics of some kind. They seemed to be bolted or attached to the bottom of the container.
“In case we get lost,” said Speckbauer.
“GPS?”
“Yes.”
Speckbauer let the trunk-lid up, leaned into the trunk again, and drew out the submachine gun.
“Franzi,” he said, but did not turn toward either of them.
“Check, safety, and then put the damned thing back on, will you?
And quit arguing. The operation is ongoing. And for the love of Christ and his suffering Mother, stick your jacket over it.”
“It’s going to be hot,” said Franzi. “It’ll give me a rash. The Glock is enough.”
“You are like a kid. Give me the pistol and put the damn thing on.”
Slowly Franzi took off his nylon Adidas jacket. He checked the clasps for the belt of the gun, undid one, and
