Christopher Reich - The Runner

Dieter hastened to comply.

“But you didn’t even look at his face,” Judge protested when they’d left the morgue.

She spun to face him, addressing him her most venomous glare. “I didn’t have to, Major. He was my lover. Don’t you think I’d know?”

And turning, she rushed down the hall.

Dusk had turned to evening when they returned to the Jeep. The air had grown cool. Judge grabbed his travel bag from the back seat and took out a khaki windbreaker bare of rank or insignia. Ingrid slipped a white cardigan from her bag and placed it over her shoulders. One glance told him it was cashmere. If she needed money so badly, the first thing she should do was sell her wardrobe.

Settling into the driver’s seat, he turned on the ignition. For once, the engine fired smoothly, starting on the first try. Illuminating the headlights, he slid the gearshift into first and guided the Jeep off the hospital grounds. He shifted to second. Usually it was a tricky affair, but this time the gearshift advanced easily, like a hot knife through butter. He was finally getting the hang of it.

“I suppose you’re disappointed?” Ingrid asked, as they pulled out of the parking lot. She had folded her arms across her stomach and he could see she was shivering slightly. The body had shaken her more than she wanted him to know.

“On the contrary. I never believed it was Seyss to begin with.”

“No?”

He shook his head, offering an apologetic smile. “I can’t tell you anything more. I can only say that you’ve been a tremendous help.”

“I suppose I should be grateful,” she replied, her tone caustic and insincere. “Finally, a chance to help the victors. Or would ‘collaborate’ be the more appropriate term?”

Judge ignored her sarcasm, granting her the right to be upset. “It’s more important than you think.”

“Is it now? To what? The army or your career?” Not expecting an answer — or Judge suspected, not wanting one she plied on. “That was a dirty trick to play. I’m still trying to figure out your reasoning. Help me, would you? Did you think if I knew you had doubts it was Erich, I’d try to convince you otherwise?”

“I just wanted to gauge your reaction. That’s all.”

“You thought I might lie to protect him. Just like at that squalid little roadhouse the other night, quietly asking me more questions about Erich, as if we were sharing confidences. You were trying to catch me out on something. After all, I’m a Bach. I can’t be trusted. No, no, don’t say anything, Major. I remember the look of disgust on your face I when you met my father.”

“I had to be sure,” he retorted. “I didn’t have any other choice.”

Ingrid looked away, laughing dryly. “Another one just following orders.”

“That’s enough!” Judge slammed the base of his palm against the steering wheel, causing Ingrid to jump in her seat. He let go an exasperated sigh, feeling his neck flush hot, even as he was robbed of further words. It was impossible to pick the truth from the residue of her anger. Not knowing where to begin, he concentrated on the road and kept quiet.

Approaching a sharp turn, he downshifted the vehicle into second, cowing his desire to keep a foot on the brake just in case. His growing confidence behind the wheel, however, did little to allay the pool of anxiety welling in his stomach. Anyone keeping tabs on his movements would by now have learned that he had visited Dachau, and upon being apprised of von Luck’s death, proclaimed his intention to return to HQ Military Government Bavaria. How long would it take until they grew worried about his failure to show up at Bad Toelz? This evening? Tomorrow? Or had they already? Once they made the discovery, he had little doubt their first call would be to the guard detachment at Sonnenbrucke to inquire if one Major Devlin Judge had come to visit Ingrid Bach.

The implications of Ingrid’s confirmation that the body did not belong to Seyss were only now beginning to take root. So far, only one thing was clear: until his superior officers could be made to believe that Seyss was still on the loose and take proper action, Ingrid Bach’s life was in danger.

Rounding a curve, Judge braked hard, confronted by a string of flares sizzling in the center of the road. At their head, a Jeep was parked horizontally across the road. A lone soldier waved a flashlight, signaling for him to stop.

“Excuse me, sir, but we’ve got a bad accident down the hill a ways. Had to close the road until we get it cleared up.” The soldier shone the flashlight down an asphalt lane veering from the main street. “If you’ll follow that route, you’ll come into town at Wilhelmplatz. Take you an extra five minutes.”

Judge stared at the sparkling flares, the short-lived arc of the red and gold embers setting off an internal alarm. “What happened?”

“A six by six flipped onto its side and collided with an ambulance coming up the hill. The driver said he was trying to dodge some DPs coming out of the forest. This part of the country’s crawling with ’em.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Ingrid asked, concern etched on her face.

“I’m not sure, ma’am. Let’s hope nothing more than a few bruises and some jangled nerves.”

Judge returned the man’s salute. “Thanks for the information.”

“No problem, Major. Have a good night.”

Judge eyed the soldier warily, but the GI was already walking past him, giving the same news to the nurses in the Jeep behind them. A moment later, the four women pulled up to Judge’s bumper. The two in the back were throwing sweaters over their white uniforms, madly freeing bobby pins from their hair; the gal driving, rushing to apply a fresh coat of lipstick. Four girls headed out for a night on the town. None looked over twenty.

Hearing their infectious giggles, Judge dismissed his worry and accelerated down the hill. The road curved gradually to the right then descended steeply into a ravine. The forest encroached on the road, forming a canopy over their heads that blocked out the night sky. He glanced to his I right, catching only Ingrid Bach’s mute profile and the evanescent sheen of her platinum hair.

“Okay, I apologize for not sharing my doubts with you. What do you expect? I’m a lawyer. I’m trained not to trust people.”

“Especially the family of war criminals, right?”

Now it was Judge’s turn to get angry. “Look, you wanted an apology, you got it. I can’t change whose blood runs in your veins. Or that you almost married the guy I’m looking for. If you’re curious whether it makes me a little uncertain, you’re right, it does. You’re a smart woman. How would you react?”

To her credit, Ingrid pondered the question, vitriol replaced by deliberation. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she said, “I’m quite aware what you think of us. I’ve read the counts against my father. I’ve seen some of the testimony against him. You can’t know what it is like to learn that the man you’ve adored and admired your entire life is some kind of monster. Frankly, I still can’t quite comprehend it.”

“You didn’t know what went on in his factories? No idea at all?”

Ingrid shook her head slowly and he could see she was still answering her own charges. “I’m afraid armor plate and proximity fuses aren’t a particular interest of mine. I’ve hardly been out of the mountains for the past three years. But to answer your question, Major, no I wouldn’t have told you either. That doesn’t make your actions right, though. If I sound at all contrite, it’s because I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier when you asked if I’d had any contact with Erich.” She shrugged and did a fair imitation of his flat midtown drawl. “What do you expect? I’m a German. I’m trained not to trust Americans.”