Sleeper Agent (19 page)

Tom drew back a little. “But you
will
tell, won’t you?”

“Please . . .” Her wounded eyes implored him.

“Now!”

She flinched. She sat in agonizing silence for a moment He did not pressure her. Then she went on, her voice trembling: “I . . . I helped the housekeeper, Frau Peukert. I helped her pack a large steel filing cabinet. From the office.” Her voice broke. With difficulty she swallowed. The men watched her in utter silence. “It . . . it was supposed to be . . . to be buried. In the woods. On the estate.” She sobbed.

“Was it?”

“Yes.”

“You know where?”

“Yes.”

Tom straightened up. He felt some of his tenseness leave him. He had not been aware of how stiffly he’d carried his shoulders. It surprised him. He felt elated. At last!

“What was in the filing cabinet?” he asked, unable completely to keep his excitement out of his voice.

The girl wet her bloodless lips. She looked imploringly from one of the men to the other. She fixed her huge eyes beseechingly on Tom. There was no reprieve. And the words came tumbling out. “Silk. Silk and brocade from Paris. Silverware. Gold coins. And jewelry. Stockings. Perfume. And . . . But, please, Herr Offizier, nothing of it is mine. Nothing! I swear it. I only did what I was told. It all belonged to the colonel. The commandant.
He
took it. When he was in Paris. Some of it is the woman’s. Nothing is mine! Please . . . do not punish me. I . . . I was afraid.They made me swear. On my faith in the Holy Virgin. They made me swear not to tell!”

She buried her face in her hands and leaned her arms on the table, oblivious to the puddle of cold coffee smearing the smooth skin on her bare arms. She cried, partly with relief, partly with fear.

Tom looked down at her. Loot! he thought, the disappointment bitter in his mouth. Nothing but some SS bastard’s damned loot! He bent down to her. He lifted up her tear-stained face. He looked searchingly at her. “Do you know of any other place where things are buried?” he asked wearily. He already knew the answer.

“No.”

He believed her. Had she known, she would have talked. He took a deep breath.

The door to the
Gaststube
opened, and Buter stood in the doorway. He took in the scene around the table. “Cozy,” he commented dryly. “How goes it?”

“Great,” Tom said bleakly, looking up at Buter. “Just great”

“Terrific.”

Tom glanced past the CIC agent in the doorway into the
Gaststube
beyond.

At a far table sat SS Major Helmuth, stiffly waiting to be summoned. Patiently, watchfully Rolf lay at his feet, eyes and ears alert.

Ingeborg followed his gaze. She shuddered.

Tom looked at her. Suddenly he drew himself up. “Hey, Irwin!” he said, new vigor in his voice. “How’s the chow in this here outfit?”

“The best. We . . . ah . . . ‘inherited’ a well-stocked larder from the former
Inhaber.
It’s in the basement.”

Tom looked pleased. “I- was hoping you’d say that!” He looked around him. “I could use a bite. Lead the way, Irwin.”

He turned to Sergeant Winkler. “And, Winkler. Ask the major to join us.” He looked into the
Gaststube. “
And, of course, Rolf!”

6

The morning of April 29th was gray and overcast. In the doorway to the Gastwirtschaft Bockelmeier Tom squinted up at the gloomy sky. He hoped it wouldn’t rain.

He yawned. It had been a rough night. Hours spent in meticulous preparations. It had better work.

He surveyed the scene of activity in the courtyard before him. Several U.S. Army vehicles were drawn up at one end of the yard. Three jeeps, one of them his own, and a 2½-ton open truck. A handful of MP guards were herding a group of a score or so German PWs equipped with picks, spades and shovels onto the truck. The clanging sounds of metal striking metal rang out in the dismal morning as the PW’s manhandled their tools aboard.

SS Major Maximilian Helmuth stood by himself at one of the jeeps, a forbidding ramrod figure; Rolf sat at his side eyeing the activity with alert suspicion. Larry and Sergeant Winkler were poring over a map spread out on the hood of one of the other jeeps, and a few kids hung around the wide courtyard gate watching the proceedings with frank curiosity.

Agent Buter joined Tom at the entrance. “Morning,” he said.

“Morning.”

“Quite a show you’re putting on.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet!” Tom grinned. “I hopel How about coming along?”

“Is that a request?”

“Hell, no. I thought you might like to be in on the fun and games.”

“Volunteer?” Buter sounded horrified.

“Why not?”

“You
must
be kidding! I haven’t volunteered for anything since basic training.”

“How’s our little Ingeborg?”

“Still impersonating the Sleeping Beauty.”

“Keep her here until the operation has been completed.

Just in case.”

“Will do.” Buter nodded toward the Gestapo major.

“How’re you getting along with marvelous Max?”

“Fine. I’ve got him eating out of my hand.”

“Yeah? Have you counted your fingers lately?”

Larry came up to them. “Ready to go,” he said.

“Okay. Let’s get the show on the road.”

Buter raised his hand benevolently. “Good hunting!”

Forty-five minutes later the little convoy drove up to the main entrance of Schloss Ehrenstein and ground to a halt.

In the lead jeep were Tom and Larry, followed by a second jeep driven by Sergeant Winkler, with Major Helmuth and Rolf in the back. Then the 2½-ton, crammed with the German PWs and their tools. The rear was brought up by a jeep with four MP guards, weapons at the ready.

In front of the castle entrance the young Engineer lieutenant stood waiting, a detail of his men at parade rest behind him. Next to him stood the caretaker, Frau Peukert, flanked by two burly soldiers. Churlishly she glowered at the unfolding spectacle.

Tom and Larry dismounted and marched up to the lieutenant. The officers exchanged salutes, and Tom turned briskly to the woman. He wasted no time. “We now possess definite proof that the Schloss Ehrenstein documents are buried here on the estate,” he declared, his voice brisk. He looked straight at the scowling woman, matching her grimness. “We are also informed that you do know
where!
If we are forced to find the records without your cooperation, Frau Peukert, you will have to bear the consequences. The serious consequences. I hope that is fully understood.”

He paused significantly. Then, solemnly, he went on: “We are here to give you one last chance.” Momentously he gave the two last words unmistakable capital-letter importance. He watched the woman closely. He hoped he was being properly impressive. She returned his gaze. It was difficult for him to tell just what she was thinking. Only one emotion showed through on her stony face: contempt

“I have nothing to say,” she said in her flat tone of voice. “Nothing.”

Tom whirled on his heel. “Sergeant Winkler!” he called. “Dismount the prisoners!”

At once Winkler and the MP guards began to order the German PW’s from the truck. With shouts of “
Schnell! Schnell!”
and “
Los!”
they formed the men in a column of twos, each man carrying a pick, a spade or a shovel.

Tom turned back to the sullen woman. “As you can see, Frau Peukert, we have come prepared,” he said. “We will keep searching and digging until we find what we’re looking for.” He watched her closely. “And heaven help you when we do,” he added portentously.

The woman’s mien of confident scorn did not change. She knew perfectly well that it would take a lifetime of digging before anything could be found on the hundreds of acres of land that made up the estate of Schloss Ehren-stein. Unless . . . unless the diggers knew exactly where and how deep to dig.

She shook her head. “I have nothing to say.”

He had expected it. He turned toward the jeep where Major Helmuth and Rolf were waiting. “Major Helmuth!” he called.

The major dismounted. Leading Rolf on a long leash, coiled like a lasso in his hand so that the dog trotted close by his left leg, he walked over to stand next to Tom, facing the recalcitrant woman.

“This is Sturmbannführer Maximilian Helmuth,” Tom said importantly. “Gestapo.”

He thought he saw a brief flicker of alarm in the woman’s flat eyes. He went on. “The dog’s name is Rolf. He has been trained by the Gestapo for a very special purpose.” He lowered his voice and spoke with grave emphasis. “You see, Frau Peukert, we will not search aimlessly. We will not dig without method. Rolf will show us
where
to dig. He has been carefully trained to smell out where anything touched by human hands lies buried, even though weeks may have passed!”

He turned to Helmuth. “Am I correct, Major?” ho asked.

“Ja!’” The Gestapo officer’s answer was curt.

For the first time the woman looked a little uneasy. A little uncertain. Her eyes involuntarily went to Rolf. Helmuth gave a short yank on the leash, and the dog bared his fangs and growled threateningly, never taking his savage eyes from the woman before him.

For a moment she was unnerved. But her native peasant astuteness won out. She correctly reasoned that
no
dog—Gestapo-trained or not—could possibly nose out weeks-old diggings in a fast-growing spring forest. She smelled the bluff. A thin, mocking smile grew on her lips. “Let the dog show you then,” she said. “I cannot!”

He turned his back on her. “Ready to move out!” he shouted.

It was an impressive procession lined up on the grounds before the castle, facing the forest beginning nearby. At the head stood SS Major Helmuth, holding the eagerly straining Rolf on a tight leash. Behind them the column of “ PWs, shouldering spades, picks and shovels, led by Sergeant Winkler and guarded by the four MP’s. And bringing .up the rear the Engineer lieutenant and his detail of men, carrying ropes, axes and hoisting equipment.

The woman took it all in. The open derision on her heavy face had given way to uneasy apprehension. But the set of her jaw was still stubborn and firm.

Tom turned to her. “Well, Frau Peukert. Have you anything to say?”

She did not answer him. Stonyfaced she stared straight ahead.

He turned
to
the two soldiers flanking her. “Bring her along,” he ordered sharply.

Together he and Larry marched to the head of the column. Larry glanced at his partner. He looked faintly amused. “Curtain, act one,” he said. “On with the play!”

“With a cast of thousands.” Tom grinned. “I only hope they know how to deliver their lines!” They took up positions directly behind the Gestapo major and his dog.

“Major Helmuth,” Tom said. “
Los!
—Let’s go!”

At once the Gestapo officer dropped the long coiled leash from his hand, holding on only to the looped end of it, giving Rolf full rein. “
Such!”
he commanded urgently. “
Such! Such!—
Search! Search!”

With a small yelp of excitement, nose to the ground, Rolf took off. Zigzagging, he searched and sniffed the ground before them in ever widening loops. Suddenly he let out an eager bark, and tugging at the leash, he led his master toward the forest.

Falling in behind came Tom and Larry, the Peukert woman and her two guards, Winkler, the column of PW’s and their MP guards, and the Engineer Lieutenant with his detail of men, all half-trotting to keep up with the straining dog.

Through the forest wound the whole procession, following the convoluted zigzag track of the dog. Deeper and deeper in among the trees and brush. From time to time Rolf would yelp excitedly as he pulled on his leash in his efforts to leap ahead.

Tom gave the Peukert woman a quick glance. She seemed less sure of herself as they went on.

They were about four hundred yards into the woods when Rolf suddenly reared and barked sharply.

The major released him, and at once he streaked away on a tangent. But only a short distance. At the edge of a small clearing he stopped. Furiously he began to scratch and claw at the ground.

Helmuth ran to his dog. He clipped the leash back on his collar and held him off.

The Peukert woman had stopped dead in her tracks. She stood stock still, staring at the excited barking dog, her face deathly pale and drawn, her eyes wide in silent, incredulous terror.

Tom took her firmly by the arm. Like an automaton she walked with him. He led her to the spot on the ground that showed the scratch and claw marks of the Gestapo dog. She stared at the dog. Tom turned to the dazed woman. “Is there anything buried here?” he asked sharply.

She did not hear him.

He stepped in front of her. “Answer me!”

She shook her head. Whether in defiance or incredulity, he could not be sure. He grabbed a spade from one of the PWs. He shoved it at her. “Dig!”

She made no move. No sound. Her eyes, aghast, were riveted on Rolf.

The dog crouched before the woman, snarling and growling dangerously, deep in his throat. His ferocious eyes never left her. His bared fangs gleamed evilly above his dripping crimson tongue. Only the sturdy leash held by Helmuth kept him in check.

“Dig!” Tom repeated. “Or are you afraid of what you will find?”

The woman stood motionless, mesmerized, staring at the menacing dog as if she were looking at the devil himself.

Tom turned to Winkler. “Tell the prisoners to start digging,” he ordered. He looked gravely at the woman. “You have made your choice, Frau Peukert,” he said.

She shivered abruptly. She tore her gaze from the dog. She grabbed Tom’s arm. “Wait!” she cried. It was a sound of soul-tearing agony. “Wait!” Her voice was deeply shaken. Unreal. “
Der Hund hat rechts!”
she murmured. “The dog is right!”

He thrust his face close to hers. Razor-eyed, he glared at her, holding her. He shot his questions at her like staccato bursts from a machine gun. “There is something buried here?”

“Yes.”

“There are other burial places?”

“Yes.”

“You will show us where?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“One.”

He frowned. “Only one?”

“Yes. Most of the papers were burned. Only the most vital documents were buried.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“Where?”

She pointed.

“In the woods. That way.”

“What is buried here?”

She averted her eyes. “Only . . . personal belongings. The commandant’s personal belongings.”

He turned from her. “Sergeant Winkler,” he called. “Have the men fall in. We are moving on to another burial spot. Frau Peukert will lead us.” He turned to the woman. “On your way,” he ordered.

She seemed to sag a little. Her ruddy complexion had gone sickly gray, her defiant eyes lackluster. She was thoroughly cowed. She started off into the forest.

Tom walked at her side. He felt good. His scenario was working out beautifully. It was just as well that the Peukert woman had refused to dig at the hiding place where the commandant’s loot was buried, he thought. Only a foot down she would have unearthed the foot-long, arm-thick Bavarian sausage he’d placed there! The spicy strong-smelling sausage he’d liberated from Buter’s larder and spent half the night dragging all over God’s half acre, laying a trail for Rolf to follow, leading to the only place where he
knew
from Fräulein Ingeborg that something had been buried! The only place Rolf could possibly have found. The Gestapo dog had played his role like a real trouper.

The second burial spot was half a mile farther into the forest. Frau Peukert pointed wordlessly to a spot between two tall pine trees, and the PW’s went to work with their picks and shovels.

Grimly the woman watched the men dig into the loosely packed ground. She was deeply disturbed.

The enemy was unearthing a cache of documents never meant for eyes hostile to the Third Reich. She did not know the full import of the buried records. But she did know that their discovery by the
Amis
had to be reported at any cost, and she knew to whom. They would know what steps to take.

She knew what she must do. As soon as circumstances would permit.

An hour later a pit had been exposed, a deep square concrete shaft lined with tarpaper. In it rested three steel boxes, each twice the size of a footlocker.

Using their heavy ropes the Engineers brought up the top box. It was securely locked, and totally without markings. But on the lids of the two boxes remaining in the pit Tom could make out the flying eagle insignia of the Luftwaffe and the letters OKL—Oberkommando der Luftwaffe—Air Force High Command. The records of the Cornelius Luftwaffe project!
The Collection and Evaluation of Information for Future War.

It was what he had come for. It was a whale of a haul! The unmarked box would be the records of the Schloss Ehrenstein school. He had the Engineers put it aside. It could wait. He was eager to take a look at the Luftwaffe documents.

Larry came up to him. Tom grinned broadly. “We pulled it off!” he exulted. “It was beautiful!” He laughed. “I’ll never forget the look on that Frau’s puss. It was worth the entire price of admission!”

“Wait till she finds out about the damned sausage,” Larry said. “She’ll split her gut! That was some trail you laid. Even
I
could smell it!”