Greg Iles - Black Cross

“I am.”

“Well I don’t believe it! I’ve known everyone here for years! The only people I might even consider as suspects would be the civilian support personnel who have moved here since your camp was built.”

Schörner listened as a motorcycle skidded to a stop in the street below the mayor’s office. He moved to the window and saw the SS rider charging into the first floor doorway below. Schörner had the office door open by the time the rider reached the top of the stairs.

The rider pulled off his goggles and saluted sharply. “You’re wanted at the camp immediately, Sturmbannführer! Herr Doktor Brandt has ordered a selection!”

“A selection?”

“Yes, sir.” The messenger glanced at the portly mayor.

“You may speak freely,” Schörner said.

“The Herr Doktor said something about testing new suits from Raubhammer.”

“I am not needed for that,” Schörner said with annoyance. “I have pressing business here.”

“Is that what I should tell the Herr Doktor?”

“Tell him I have an emergency here. Hauptscharführer Sturm can easily stand in for me during a sel—” Schörner froze in midsentence.

Otto Buch narrowed his eyes with curiosity. “Sturmbannführer?” he said softly. “Are you all right?”

Schörner’s good eye focused on the mayor for an instant. Then he snatched the goggles from the messenger, bolted down the stairs and into the street.

The SS man and the mayor reached the window just in time to see him roar off on the motorcycle in the direction of Totenhausen.

39

Klaus Brandt stood in the snow before the steps of his hospital, a look of impatience on his face. He glared at his watch, then motioned for Sergeant Sturm to join him.

“I’m tired of waiting, Hauptscharführer,” he said. “We’ll start without him.”

Sturm nodded crisply. “Ready when you are, Herr Doktor. Will you be making the selection?”

“Not today. There are no specific medical criteria. I need three subjects. Choose whomever you wish.”

Sturm suppressed a smile. “ Zu befehl , Herr Doktor. Heil Hitler!”

Rachel Jansen backed out of the latrine shed holding Hannah on her left hip and gripping Jan’s hand with her right. When she turned, she saw Sergeant Sturm and three SS men waiting for her.

The struggle was one-sided and brief. Two storm troopers jerked the children away while Sturm and the fourth man pinned Rachel’s arms. She was screaming and crying at once as they dragged her away, her eyes on her children. Jan stared after her with wide eyes, then bent over Hannah, who lay motionless on the snow.

“Third time pays for all,” Sturm growled in her ear, as they passed through the block gate and into the Appellplatz. “This time I’ve got permission to kill you.”

Rachel smelled garlic and blood sausage on his breath.

“I want you to know something,” he went on. “After you’re dead, I’ll be getting those diamonds back from you. You think about that while you’re breathing the gas, eh? Three Jews in an oven.”

Rachel’s feet hung just above the ground as they marched her across the yard. Near the hospital steps she saw a knot of men. All wore earth-brown uniforms except one, who stood a little apart.

The shoemaker.

Three Jews in an oven? Rachel heard someone shouting behind her. She recognized the voice before she turned — Benjamin Jansen, her father-in-law. Now she understood. Sturm had found some way to get rid of everyone who had witnessed the incident with the diamonds. They dropped her beside the shoemaker. Sturm moved off to speak with Brandt, leaving her under the guard of four storm troopers.

“Don’t try to run,” the shoemaker said.

“We’re going to the gas,” Rachel told him.

“Not the way you think. They’re testing a new type of chemical suit. We may have a chance. I survived one gassing inside a suit.”

“Sturm means to kill me,” Rachel said softly. “To get at Schörner. Oh God, spare my children. Without me—”

Her words were drowned by the yells of Ben Jansen as he was beaten toward them. The shoemaker leaned close and whispered, “There will be a control. There always is. You must volunteer to wear a suit, do you hear? Volunteer to wear the suit!”

Rachel heard the high whine of a motorcycle on the hill road. “Herr Stern, promise me that if your son comes back you will make him take my children away.”

“Frau Jansen, the suit—”

“Promise me!”

The shoemaker sighed in resignation. “I promise.”

Ben Jansen was babbling at Rachel, but she wasn’t listening. She tried to catch sight of Jan or Hannah near the children’s block. Was there any chance now that Schörner would send them into a Lebensborn home? Of course not. She had been a fool not to accept his offer instantly.

“To the E-Block!” Brandt commanded from the steps.

Two storm troopers caught Rachel by the arms and carried her up the steps into the hospital, straight down the main hall to the rear door, which led onto the alley and the E-Block. They were halfway across the alley when a motorcycle roared into one end of it and raced up to the hospital steps. A man wearing the field gray of the Waffen SS leaped off the cycle and let it fall in the snow. Only when he tore off his goggles did Rachel see the eyepatch and realize who the rider was.

“Herr Doktor!” Schörner shouted. “We must put all troops on full alert immediately!”

Sergeant Sturm shouldered his way between Brandt and Schörner. “The Herr Doktor is conducting an experiment,” he said. “Everything else must wait.”

Schörner did not even glance at the captives; he knew Rachel would be among them. “Herr Doktor, I must insist!”

“ Ach , you stink,” Sturm said under his breath. “Where have you been, in a sewer?”

“Yes.”

“Just a moment, Hauptscharführer,” Brandt said in a calm voice. “Let us hear what our security chief has to say.”

“I have located the missing patrol, Herr Doktor,” Schörner said. “Both men were shot in the back with submachine guns and hidden in the Dornow sewer.”

Even Sturm rocked back at this news. Schörner pushed on, maximizing the sense of imminent danger. “I recommend an immediate house-to-house search of Dornow. Sturm should recall his men from the hills. Also the dogs. We will need them to sniff walls and floors.”

Sergeant Sturm turned his back on Brandt. “That’s what you’d like, isn’t it?” he whispered. “But you’re too late this time.”

Brandt walked halfway down the steps. Something very much like fear had crept into his bland face. “Who do you think is responsible for these deaths, Schörner?”

“It could be anyone, Herr Doktor. Partisans, British commandos, possibly both working in concert. But with the Raubhammer demonstration so close, I don’t believe we should take any chances. Think of Rommel. Think of the Führer!”

Brandt’s face went white. “Sturm! Round up every available man and dog to search the village. Immediately!”

“But the test—”

“Will continue without you!” Brandt finished. “Move! Schnell !”

Sturm glared at Schörner, then started up the alley.

“Start with the mayor’s house!” Schörner called after him. “That pompous ass needs a lesson in authority!”

“Good work, Schörner,” Brandt said. “Now, let us continue the experiment. I’m testing the integrity of the Raubhammer suits today. Ah, here they are now.”

Rachel turned and saw Ariel Weitz and three SS men backing carefully down the steps. They carried between them two shiny black suits which had some type of rubber bag and hose apparatus attached to their backs. She sought out Schörner’s eyes, but he refused to look in her direction.