“Herr Novak! Dragan! Come and have a rest, grab a coffee.”
Kelly turned, smiling, and was about to comply when something on Horst’s face stopped him. What’s he up to? he thought. “I’ll just finish off here and then I’ll take a break, thanks.”
The two on the packing case continued their conversation. Gerda was telling Horst about some of the characters who had come down the line, and Horst was desperate not to have her train of thought interrupted.
“So, who was the last one before Novak?” Horst asked innocently, nodding his head towards Kelly who was again busily engaged in sorting out shelves.
“Oh, Horst, he was the main man, the number one!”
“You mean the Führer?” asked Horst, his voice hushed, the excitement and surprise genuine.
“No, silly!” said Gerda, slapping him playfully on the shoulder. “Willy says the Führer couldn’t come down the line, he would be recognised before he had covered ten kilometres. Willy says that if the Führer escaped from the bunker, it would have had to be by plane.” The ‘Willy’ Gerda referred to was her brother Wilhelm, whom Kelly believed to be a fairly senior figure in the Thule.
Well, he should know, thought Horst. “So, who was this mysterious number one?”
Gerda laughed. “Dying to know, are we?” she asked.
She was teasing him, but Horst didn’t mind. Little mind games like this often led to more being said than was intended.
“I am now!” he said, smiling. “Ten minutes ago, I couldn’t have cared less.”
“He was a policeman,” she said conspiratorially.
Horst’s pulse quickened, but outwardly he remained calm and displayed surprise and puzzlement. “A policeman?” he queried. “Why would a policeman come down the line? Both the East and the West are crying out for ex-policemen, he could have secured a really good job either side of the partition.”
“Yes, but this one was a special sort of policeman,” said Gerda. She then silently mouthed the single word, “GE-STA-PO!”
Horst set his face grim and nodded knowingly. Putting his hands around his neck, he imitated the act of hanging.
“Exactly!” said Gerda nodding, “And not just any Gestapo, this was the top man!”
“Don’t tell me!” said Horst, dropping his head into his hands. “I’ve heard of him, let me think … I’ve got it … hold on, Müller, isn’t it? Eric Müller!”
“Almost,” said Gerda looking smug. “Heinrich Müller.”
Horst pulled a distasteful face. “To be honest, Gerda, I never liked the Gestapo, but he was one of ours, so we have to look after him, I suppose.”
“I’m with you there, Horst, I have never met a man who frightened me before, but he did. I told Willy that he smelled of evil, but he just laughed at me and said that the only thing he smelled of was soap. I tried to explain that it wasn’t a physical smell, it was just that every time I was anywhere near him, my skin crawled.”
“I’ve never met the man, fortunately,” Manteufel lied, “but if his reputation is anything to go by, he’s an evil man, so I can understand your reaction. I assume everyone did their duty and he made it to Argentina or wherever?”
“Well, that’s just the thing. Usually, Willy lets me know what the final outcome is, but this time he confirmed that he had reached Austria and after that, he said he couldn’t say what had happened. I wasn’t sure if that meant that he didn’t know, or if he couldn’t tell me for reasons of secrecy. I couldn’t get anything out of him. I don’t think he went across the water, Horst, I think he is still in Austria or Italy.”
“Very strange,” said Horst.
The conversation then drifted on to what a woman should wear for the upcoming festival. Horst assured her that whatever she wore, she would easily be the best-looking woman there. It wasn’t entirely just flattery. He immediately received another slap on the shoulder from a very embarrassed Gerda, which nearly knocked him off the crate.
For the rest of the afternoon shift, Horst was burning with impatience to impart his news to Kelly, but an opportunity never arose. It wasn’t until after their evening meal, when Gerda had departed with the empty dishes and bottles, that they were alone together. Kelly stooped and picked up an empty bottle she had missed and placed it on the table.
“Do you know what they call that in the Royal Marines?” he asked, pointing at the bottle.
Horst pretended total puzzlement. “Hang on, don’t tell me, let me guess, er, um, an empty bottle?” he hazarded.
“No! It’s called a dead marine.”
“And why,” asked Horst looking askance at Kelly, “is it called a dead marine?”
“Because it’s no longer any effing use!”
Horst shook his head and looked sorrowful. “You are a sick man, Dan Kelly, remind me to get help for you when we get back.”
“I will,” Kelly said laughing. After a short lull, he said, “Horst, you’re not getting a little too close to Gerda, are you?”
Horst looked at him with an expression which said, why am I sitting here with the village idiot?
“Sorry, Horst, stupid of me. Forget I even asked.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” said Horst, “she’s a fine woman, it’s just that, well, she talks too much.” He spoke in a monotone with a deadpan face, then slowly turned his head towards Kelly, displaying a wide grin and a twinkle in his eye.
“You German dog!” exclaimed Kelly. “You’ve got something! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I haven’t had an opportunity until now. Müller came through here!” Horst related the conversation he had had with Gerda.
“At least we know we are on the right track. Even more important to get into Austria now,” said Kelly.
A little later Gerda climbed into the mezzanine, looking rather sad but trying to smile. “It’s on! Tomorrow a truck will come to the yard at five in the morning. Be ready.”
She moved towards Kelly and embraced him. “I will miss you two reprobates.” She then turned her attention to Horst. Wrapping her arms around him, she held
