The Berkut (77 page)

"Only one element in all this is unsatisfactory," Herr Wolf continued. "Your timing in getting us here was not what it should have been. I expected to have a week to rest, perhaps more, but now it seems I'll hardly have time for a good night's sleep. I believe you overreacted when you took us up the river. It was unnecessary. Professional soldiers, I have observed, tend to be too conservative in estimating degrees of danger."

The SS colonel listened because he had no choice; he was trapped. All politicians were cut from the same cloth: successes were theirs; failures were the fault of others.

"Had I been consulted," Herr Wolf went on, "and let me remind you, I was
not,
I would have recommended that we lay a trap for our pursuers and surprise them." His eyes were glazed and his hands punctuated his words, one hand chopping at the other in short, violent strokes.

Brumm sighed. The man was entirely self-absorbed; whatever the subject, he was the center around which all else revolved. There was never room for doubt, never a second guess. Brumm looked at him; how had someone so obviously demented come to be Germany's leader?

When their plates had been cleared, an older monk with a jagged scar that began under one eye and stretched down to his upper lip appeared. "Welcome," he said. "Your credentials are in order. I must ask each of you one question." He turned to Brumm. "Are you Catholic?"

"Yes."

"And you?"

"Yes, of course," Herr Wolf mumbled through the bandage. "I was educated a Catholic. I even considered the seminary."

"Very well," the priest said without emotion. "Our faith recognizes no political borders. It is the history of the one true Church to provide sanctuary to all Catholics, no matter their national origins."

"We are grateful, Father," Brumm said, marveling at the theater of the moment. Surely the man must know the truth.

"I shall not ask who you are or who you have been. You have reached out to your Church in your time of need and it has extended its benevolent hand. We are all children in the eyes of God. Praise be to God. Tomorrow you will be taken to Genoa by bus to board a ship. If there is nothing further I can do for you, I bid you safe journey. May God go with you." The old priest lifted himself slowly and raised his hand. "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

It was still dark when they were awakened. They were given badly worn robes and sandals, then fed in their cells. Later they joined in a queue and wound their way down to the base of Mount Poli, where several old buses were parked. Brumm picked one with an empty front seat behind the driver, pushed Wolf in ahead of him and told him to keep his head down. The colonel watched nervously as more people, some in robes, some without, came down the mountain and filled the vehicles. He wished they would hurry. To reassure himself he patted the weapon concealed under his robe.

128 – April 28, 1946, 7:10 A.M.

It was early morning when they arrived at the dock. The embarkation area was fenced off and several
carabinieri
with sidearms were strutting around. Near the ship's stern, several bare-chested men were slowly moving supply bales with burlap covers up a narrow ramp with dollies.

Valentine's plan was simple. "Put your arms around me," he said to Ermine.

She stared at him. "Are you crazy?"

"Do it!" There was no humor in his voice.

They embraced for a long time, then walked arm in arm closer to the longshoremen. Valentine swept Ermine into his arms again, making sure the men could see them. As they kissed he ran his hand over her body, and the workmen responded as he'd hoped they would, with catcalls and whistles of admiration. He picked her up and placed her on a stack of wooden pallets, then took out a pack of cigarettes and gave her one. "Show them your legs," he whispered. "Beautiful morning," he called over to the nearest of the men.

"For you," the man shouted back. "We have only this cargo to make love to." He snapped his hand in a signal of male fellowship.

"She's only my sister," Valentine joked.

"A very affectionate sister," another man called back. "You're fortunate; my sisters look like dogs and kiss me on the cheeks."

"With your pants down?" another teased.

The higher Ermine's dress rose, the closer the men came. Eventually they were in a small knot close to the Americans. Ermine felt both embarrassed and excited by their attention. What the hell was Beau doing?

"It's a big ship," Valentine said admiringly.

"We load bigger ones," one of the longshoremen said. "Two or three times bigger than this stunted little fish."

Valentine noticed that a tall man with thick forearms and a knee
length leather apron had an air of authority, and said to him, "You're in charge?"

"No. The foreman is forward, seeing to stowing the load. With a tub like this, you have to be careful or a high sea will knock it over."

"What's the cargo?"

"Mostly emigres."

"We've never seen the inside of a ship before," Valentine said.

"Nothing special to see."

"Do you think we might have a look around?" He winked at the man.

"The foreman would have our jobs. Work isn't easy to come by these days."

Valentine motioned to the man to come closer and slipped a thick roll of lire through the wire mesh. "For your trouble," he said. "She's married," he whispered. "We won't be long, and we'll keep out of the way."

The man did not look at the money, but folded his hand over it and slid it into a pocket under his apron. "If you get caught inside, I never saw you before." He leaned closer to Valentine, licking his lips as he spoke. "The boys," he said with a nod, "they'd like to watch."

Valentine smiled. "She's new at this. Give me some time to get her warmed up, okay?"

"There's a hatch and a ladder straight ahead," the Italian said. "It takes you up to the first deck. There are some staterooms in there; use the one marked 'B.' " He winked and stepped away to open the gate for them. As Ermine walked through, one of the men grabbed at her and she dodged him with a playful smile.

When they reached the stateroom, Valentine locked the door and loosened his shirt. It was sweltering. "What now?" Ermine asked nervously.

"First we perform, then we try to look like we belong." He turned her around, unzipped her dress and pushed her gently onto the narrow bunk. As they embraced he could hear a porthole opening above them.

129 – April 28, 1946, 1:30 P.M.

Ezdovo and Pogrebenoi were dressed as priest and nun and mixed in with the crowd, awaiting their turn at the gangplank. Father Grigory had accompanied them to the gathering point and scouted for them. The area from which the emigres would board had been cordoned off by locked wooden gates, the kind used in cattle pens. There was no security beyond this area; once inside, the travelers seemed to be left to manage their own boarding, including carrying their personal luggage. There was no priority; they went up the gangplank as they reached the head of the line. Outside the enclosed area a handful of
carabinieri
stood, making a minimal display of trying to keep the massive influx in order. Among the travelers, many languages could be heard, but few spoke Italian. Those charged with controlling access to the embarkation area gave little attention to those in clerical garb, so the two Russians went through the wooden gates without a challenge. While they waited to board they ignored each other and kept their eyes on the mass of people boiling around them.

Petrov had been explicit in his instructions: Find the pair, but once found, take no action until the ship is at sea.

Once aboard, they moved immediately to the fantail. Their plan was to meet every hour in the same location; between each rendezvous they would circulate. Their first task was to reconnoiter the ship thoroughly in order to learn its layout.

First Ezdovo went down into the bowels of the vessel to scout the engine room. There were only two hatches leading in and out, which encouraged him; when the time came for action, it would not be difficult.

Talia began her search in the cabins above the main deck. Passengers were crammed into each small cubicle, and she noticed that they seemed sullen; there was none of the joy that generally went with ship departures, and each traveler watched his cabin mates cautiously. The tension on board was palpable.

When they had completed their initial circuit, the two Russians met again at the fantail and talked as they looked out over the rail at the crush still wending single file up the gangplank. "It's impossible," Talia said. "There's no manifest, no cabin assignments. They'll be invisible in this mob. We're not going to have enough time."

"Brumm will stand out," Ezdovo said quietly. "He's tall. Remember, you're looking for a commando. He won't blend in; you know the look." She felt a surge of relief; even in clerical garb there was little chance the colonel could be mistaken for anything other than what he was. As they moved apart they let their hands touch briefly
.

130 – April 28, 1946, 2:15 P.M.

When the passengers began to board, Valentine and Ermine went topside and mingled. There seemed to be few crewmen around, and those they encountered ignored them. Ship departures were always confusing, and the sailors were used to them. Despite the unusual nature of the human cargo, Valentine hoped the unstructured atmosphere that normally attended such leave-takings would give them freedom and anonymity.

Valentine had always been acute in making quick and accurate assessments of people. From childhood he had been able to walk into large groups and size up individuals, almost as if they radiated some kind of energy that only he could detect. The feeling he got from these passengers was not good. It was unnerving; he received nothing but an overwhelming sense of evil and fear. Never in his life had he felt anything like it, and it made him nervous. Of all the passengers he encountered during the embarkation, it was a tall nun with Slavic features and a feminine air who riveted his attention. She moved smoothly, like an athlete, and he decided that at some time in her life this was what she must have been. He also felt a deadly intensity emanating from her, but not evil. She passed by him several times, and it occurred to him that she was searching carefully and methodically for someone.

Ermine found a wooden deck chair, and Valentine told her to be on the lookout for a tall, heavyset man ("he'll look like a football player") while he roamed around. He had only Skorzeny's description of Brumm to go by.

"What am I supposed to do if I see him?" "Follow him."

When he returned after circling the upper deck, Ermine was on her feet, gesturing to him with a wild look on her face. "I saw him."

"Brumm?"

"I think so. He came up the walkway right after you left."

"But was it Brumm?"

"I don't know, but he was really big. Shoulders like yours." She demonstrated with her hands.

"Alone?"

"I couldn't tell. He stuck up above the rest; that's how I saw him. He went through there," she said, pointing to an open double doorway that funneled passengers into a large salon. Leading him into the room, she pointed to a spiral metal staircase. "And then down there."

Valentine took her by the arm and pulled her aside
. "You remem
ber how we got on board?"

"Sure."

"Good. Get off the same way-right now."

Her face hardened. "No way. I'm staying with you." But Valentine's eyes told her she was fighting a losing battle. She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "You win," she said. "This time ... " When she reached the dock, she turned and saw Beau leaning on a railing. He pursed his lips, nodded slightly, winked and disappeared. Ermine felt dizzy.

131 – April 28, 1946, 2:20 P.M.

Brumm and Herr Wolf ascended the gangplank and pushed their way into the crowd of passengers already on board. Brumm led, while his companion followed, holding on to the larger man's robe. It took them twenty minutes to find a cabin. The room already had several occupants: two men, a woman and a young girl. Brumm stepped inside, looked them over and said, "Out."

"You have no authority here," one of the men protested. Brumm grabbed the man by the hair, pulled him off his seat and rammed the barrel of his automatic against the man's cheek. "This is all the authority I need, and I'm not accustomed to reissuing orders." He pushed the man toward the door; the other three inhabitants of the room were already gone. Throughout, Herr Wolf stayed behind Brumm; his face was still bandaged and he kept his gaze downward.