John Wray - The Right Hand of Sleep

They led him down with many pauses through the pines, holding him at his wrists and shoulders. At the road he shrugged them off and began to move more surely, still wavering every few steps. Now and again he stopped and shook his head bemusedly. — Who’d have thought it. Oskar Voxlauer, he said, smiling down at the ground as though at some private joke.

At the villa Kurt stopped again and pressed a finger to the back of his skull. He winced. — Who would ever have thought of it. Eh, Else?

Else neither answered him nor looked at him as he spoke. She was not looking at Voxlauer, either, but away from both of them, staring back up at the line of trees as if trying to recollect where they’d been. Voxlauer watched her a moment helplessly before turning slowly to the steps.

As he made to go into the house Kurt put out a hand and stopped him. — I’d not try that again, Oskar. I’d not try that again, boy.

Voxlauer said nothing, looking him in the eyes.

— Let it be, Kurti, Else said. — Oskar’s sorry.

— Yes, yes. He’s forgiven already, Liesi. Still — Kurt said, closing his eyes a moment and taking a half step backward. — Still. I’d not try that again. He opened his eyes and stared at Voxlauer. — What do you say, Oskar?

— You go on back to town, said Voxlauer.

— No! said Else, furious now. — You come inside, Kurti. Let’s get you straightened up. Kurt nodded weakly.

— He’s coming along inside, Oskar, Else said.

Voxlauer didn’t say anything for a moment. — I’ll get some water, he said, going around the house.

— You’re forgiven, Oskar! Kurt called after him.

As I stood leaning over the sideboard two shots pealed out one after the other and quivered for a moment in the empty room, darkening and condensing along the ceiling. I stood perfectly still for a long time, cradling the cut-glass decanter. Then I let it fall and ran around the table to the paneled door and forced it open. Ley was the first to turn toward me, blood down his shirtfront in bright, gaudy streaks. Spengler looked up at me for the space of a few seconds with that puzzled expression I knew so well. He clucked to himself and put away his pistol. “Oh, it’s you, Bauer,” he said, getting to his feet.

I looked down to where Dollfuss lay on the floor, twin jets spurting from his neck in bright pulsed arcs, his child’s mouth opening and closing. Light from the window caught the blood and lit it an impossible, garish shade of purple. I closed the door behind me. We stood a few moments longer watching Dollfuss struggling like a fish at the bottom of a boat before I could think clearly enough to form a sentence.

“Where’s the security secretary?”

Spengler jerked his thumb behind him.

The secretary sat huddled against the wall, tapping at it with his fingers. “They were trying to break out,” said Spengler, pointing to an iron shutter.

“Through there?” I said. The shutter was thick and rust-covered and riveted shut. It looked like the door of a pharaoh’s tomb.

Spengler nodded. The secretary was looking about him now, his eyes traveling up and down the walls. He let out a whimper. Ley crossed over and knelt down beside him. “Be quiet now, Josef,” he said gently, taking him by the shoulder. Spengler was looking at me, one eyebrow slightly raised, as if to ask me whether I was game.

“I’m game,” I said quietly.

Spengler grunted. “How loud were the shots?”

“Loud. The boys in the corridor heard something definitely.”

He frowned. “Go and explain things to them. Nicely. They were going for the shutter,” he repeated, still watching me closely.

“I heard you the first time, Heinrich,” I said, going to the door.

Ernst and three other boys were on the other side. “He’s dead all right, fellows,” I said, leading them to the table.

“Dollfuss?” asked Ernst.

I nodded, watching the fact of it sink in to them. “Going for the shutter. Two shots. One wide, one through the neck.”

“Who was it?”

I made my face as blank as possible. “Who do you think?”

“We’ll never make it out now, will we?” said one of the boys, letting out a short clipped laugh.

Ernst turned on him violently. “You didn’t come here to get out, Willi. Or did you?”

“No, Unterscharfführer!” the boy said hurriedly, snapping to attention. Ernst waved him off with a disgusted look. “How is it in there?” he said, trying to look past me.

“Messy.”

“And with you, Obersturmführer? Does the sun still shine on your behind?”

“Little Ernst! I’m deeply moved by your concern. Only you mustn’t fret on my account. We have other worries. Run along now and break the news to the boys downstairs. Don’t go shouting it out any windows.”

He hesitated for an instant. “Is Ley still inside?”

“Do your duty, Scharfführer,” I said. “Heil Hitler.”

“Heil Hitler!” said Ernst loudly, saluting. The boys filed after him in a state of complete bewilderment, saluting me hurriedly as they went. I spent the next few minutes at the conference table, staring at the somber-toned row of chancellors, trying not to think about anything specific. After a time, I rose and went to a window and looked out. More Home Guards were assembled on the curb, pushing the gendarmerie back against the cast-iron fence of the Volksgarten. I watched them for a minute or so, ordered neatly into eight-by-twenty-man standing units, the look on their faces identical, I was sure, to the look mine had worn at ten o’clock that morning in Glass’s office. From time to time a closed brown car would round the corner from the Ring and pull up at the curb. The car always pulled away a moment later and this or that wedge of troops pressed back to accommodate another officer. The columns extended side by side the full length of the block and farther around the corners, blocking the entire Löwelstrasse and God knows how many side streets afterward. Looking down from the quiet of the cabinet room, I felt as though I were watching the newsreel playing before the feature in a lavish, cavernous, empty theater. A moment later as I reached for the curtain a piece of molding above the window ledge exploded with a crack and fell away in a cloud of white-blue powder. I dropped flat onto the floor as though I’d been hit and crept back across the parquet to the carpet.

When I came back into the little room Dollfuss was under a yellow sheet taken from God knows where, his stockinged feet peeking out at one of its ends. The security secretary had quieted and sat slumped over his bench, staring down at the floor between his shoe heels. Ley and Spengler sat on stools in the opposite corner. No one looked up as I entered.

I let my eyes rest awhile on Dollfuss, saying nothing to disturb the quiet. His feet pointed directly at me as I stood in the door. I was gripped all at once by a superstitious feeling and took a tiny, discreet step to the left.

After Kurt had gone Else and Voxlauer sat at the kitchen table looking out through the screen door at the dark. — If I’d thought that would happen, Else said. — If I’d ever thought something like that would happen.

Voxlauer sat forward with one leg pulled up under the chair, his arms lying heavily on the table. — So they’ve finally managed it, those sons of whores and bitches, he said.

— Yes, said Else tiredly. — Yes, Oskar, they have. There wasn’t a thing we could have done about it.

— There was, said Voxlauer, nodding. — There was.