Young Lions Roar (16 page)

“Wakey, wakey, Major,” Hauser said.

“Aurora…” Mendoza said through blood-cracked lips and a foggy daze of pain.

“Papa!” Aurora struggled to break free again. “Papa! What have they done to you?”

“Nothing, my butterfly…” Mendoza reassured his daughter as he painfully coughed up and spat out a globule of blood.

“At least nothing compared to what is going to happen to you, you Spanish bitch,” Hauser threatened nastily.

“Your wings are going to be well and truly clipped, my little señorita. You’ll never fly again,” von Berlichingen added menacingly.

“Now, now, gentlemen.” Schmitt smiled like a crocodile. “Promises, promises. Geyr, bring Aurora over here, please.”

Von Berlichingen dragged the struggling girl over to where Schmitt stood behind the dining table. Schmitt swiftly punched Aurora in the base of her stomach and, as the girl doubled over,
struggling for air, he turned her around and pushed her face down over the dining room table. Von Berlichingen stepped to the front of the table and grabbed hold of both of Aurora’s wrists
and pulled her arms out as far as they would stretch. It was obvious that the two Germans had carried out this manoeuvre many times before.

“What… what are you doing?” Mendoza asked as his eyes bulged with horror as he realised what was about to happen.

“Come, come, Major,” Schmitt said with genuine astonishment. “Don’t play the innocent with me; surely you’ve been to war before?” The German took off his belt
and holster and laid it on the dining room table in front of him.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on her, Schmitt! Or I swear to God you will wish that you’d never been born!” Mendoza struggled against his rope bonds.

The three Germans all broke out into fits of belly-aching laughter.

Schmitt wiped tears of laughter away from his eyes with the back of his hand and shook his head with amazement at the Spaniard’s brave, but futile words of defiance. “Now I’m
going to rape your daughter, Mendoza and you’re going to watch me…”

“No!” Mendoza moaned like a wounded animal.

“Papa! Please save me!” Aurora begged through tears.

“Aurora! Hold on, my sweet! Be strong!” Mendoza urged.

“…Then Geyr and Walter will do the same, and then I’m going to cut her pretty little throat with this bayonet.”

Mendoza groaned and slumped in his chair. His shoulders sagged and he appeared to have given up all hope of release or rescue.

Schmitt held up his bayonet and the blade twinkled in the sunlight as he slowly twirled it around. “And there will be absolutely nothing that you can do to stop me.”

“Papa!” Aurora sobbed.

“…And then I’m going to kill you, Mendoza, with the same knife.” Schmitt stuck the bayonet into the dining table top. “And the cherry on the cake will be that we
will leave a note claiming that you were executed by a British Resistance Death Squad. Franco will demand retribution for the cold-blooded murder of a favourite son…”

“Oh yes, Major: we know that you are Franco’s Golden Boy,” Hauser added contemptuously. “Correction: you were Franco’s Golden Boy. The dead are no one’s
favourites.”

“Franco will also demand retribution for the rape and murder of a child,” von Berlichingen continued. “The much-loved granddaughter of a powerful Government Minister no less.
What’s the going rate of exchange, Andreas?”

“Oh, I think that the deaths of two hundred innocent Hereward hostages would be a fair punishment for the murders of these two Spanish celebrities, don’t you think, Geyr?”

“I think so, Andreas.”

“Enough talking.” Schmitt bared his teeth and grinned like a jackal.

“Geyr, hold on tight. Aurora, brace yourself - this is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt me.”

“Papa!” Aurora screamed as Schmitt roughly pushed her skirt above her waist and brutally ripped off her underwear. “Do something! Stop them! Don’t let them hurt
me!” Aurora begged through tear-filled eyes.

“I can’t, Aurora.” Mendoza shook his head with hopeless frustration. “Be strong, Aurora and hold on. It will be over soon.”

“Knowing Andreas it will be over very soon,” Hauser said with a smile.

“I’d say three minutes should do the trick. What do you think, Romeo?” Geyr asked Schmitt.

“Oi! You cheeky bastards! Shut up! You’ll put me off my stride!” Schmitt shouted jokingly at his two comrades. “And as for you, Mendoza, I want you to remember that all
of this is happening - the rape and murder of your daughter, and your own death - because you wouldn’t let Kophamel kill a bunch of useless Red prisoners.” Schmitt shook his head in
disgust as he unbuttoned his trousers. “All of this was so easily avoidable.”

Mendoza looked at the clock above the German’s head. It was five minutes to two. For God’s sake, Alan, be early for once in your life.

“Who said a soldier’s lot is not a happy one?” Schmitt said as he brutally thrusted.

As Aurora screamed out in pain and agony, Mendoza shook his head in despair as a large tear fell from his bloodstained face onto the floor. It was too late. By the time that Alan arrived, both
he and Aurora would be dead.

Alan looked at his watch. “Look: two o’clock. Bang on time.” Alan headed up the garden path towards the front door.

Sam grabbed Alan’s arm. “Al, wait - look at the door.”

Alan stopped dead in his tracks and followed Sam’s gaze. The front door was slightly ajar and Alan could see some dark liquid slowly spreading in an ever-widening pool on the tiled floor.
And he could see something else: a hand.

Alan nodded in recognition of the changed situation. “Silencers. Make ready,” he ordered.

Both of the boys quickly looked behind them and checked that the coast was clear. They swiftly extracted their Luger pistols from beneath their trouser waistbands and screwed on a silencer
attachment. The boys cocked their weapons and flicked off the safety catches.

“Ready,” both boys said softly.

“Cover me,” Alan ordered as he raised the pistol to the firing position and used his left hand to help steady the weapon.

“Right behind you, Al,” Sam said as he adopted a similar position.

Alan slowly approached the open door and silently pushed it open far enough to give him enough room to squeeze through. He entered and carefully stepped over the body lying in the hall. Alan
breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that although the body was female, it wasn’t Aurora. “Must be Mrs Purlieu, the housekeeper,” Alan explained.

Sam nodded. “What’s that sound?”

A rhythmic crying and sobbing sound of someone in acute pain and distress was echoing from further down the corridor.

Alan’s face turned white. “Aurora,” he whispered as he quickened up his step, and Sam following close on his heels.

Alan came to the end of the corridor and carefully peeked around the corner. He was at the entrance to the dining room. He was facing the back of a tall-backed chair and he could see the back of
a man’s head. Each of the man’s arms was tied to an arm of the chair with a length of rope against which the man struggled futilely in impotent fury. Major Mendoza. Another man stood to
the right of the Major; he had his left arm wrapped around Mendoza’s neck and he held a pistol in his right hand that he held loosely against the right hand side of his body. He was not
expecting any trouble and was obviously enjoying the horror show, squeezing Mendoza’s neck from time to time and laughing uproariously. Alan looked beyond the chair to the dining room table.
He saw the back of another man pulling Aurora’s arms out over the table. His pistol was still in his holster. The top half of Aurora’s body was stretched over the table and her eyes
were squeezed shut with pain. Two streams of tears ran down her face in a continuous flow. The rapist stood directly behind her. The two men shouted out filthy obscenities and laughed at each
other’s jokes as the rape continued. The rapist had placed his belt and holster that still contained his pistol on the dining room table.

Alan stepped back and allowed Sam to have a look.

“Right, Al, this is the plan: we’ll both go around the corner all guns blazing. I’ll kill the German standing by the Major and you kill the one holding Aurora by the arms.
I’ll free the Major and arm him. You cover the rapist and free Aurora and then Aurora and the Major will decide what to do with the rapist. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“ Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Alan smiled resolutely. “Strength and honour, Sam.”

“Strength and honour, Al.”

Schmitt opened his eyes just in time to see Hauser’s head explode in a crimson shower of blood, bones and brains. The dead German fell forwards like a timbering tree. At
the same time two massive holes appeared in von Berlichingen’s chest, and the German fell forwards and lay slumped on the dining room table with his eyes open and a confused look of surprise
on his face.

“Was ist…?” Schmitt said as two schoolboys armed with pistols suddenly appeared in front of him. One of the boys pointed his pistol at Schmitt’s chest with a look of
such pure hatred and rage on his face that the rapist’s state of arousal faded and wilted at an astronomical rate. Schmitt hastily withdrew from the body of the child that he had been
raping.

“Aurora, Aurora, are you all right?” Alan asked as he briefly took his eyes off the rapist.

“Alan, Alan… is that you?” Aurora asked weakly.

“Yes, my love, it’s me. You’re safe now,” Alan reassured her. “Can you walk?”

“Yes, I can,” Aurora replied. “Papa?”

“Yes, my butterfly,” Mendoza replied. “I’m all right. Alan’s brave young friend…?”

“Sam, Major Mendoza.” Sam bowed.

Mendoza returned the bow. “Sam has freed me.”

“As for you, you dirty, murdering, child rapist. What are we going to do with you?” Alan pointed his pistol straight at Schmitt’s face.

“Now, Al. I know that you’re mad as hell, but let’s not be too hasty.” Sam said with upturned palms. “We could squeeze some valuable information out of him. Major
Mendoza, what do you think?”

“What do you mean by ‘valuable information,’ Sam?” Mendoza asked as he rubbed his wrists that had been rubbed raw and bloody by the ropes. “If you’re part of
the Resistance then I don’t want to know anything about it. Aurora and I are in as much trouble with the Germans as it is, and…”

The sudden gunshot and Schmitt’s scream cut through the conversation. The rapist lay doubled up on the floor in the foetal position with his eyes screwed tightly together in agony and his
two hands clutched together between his legs, trying in vain to staunch a steady stream of blood which flowed down his legs from his groin and formed an ever increasing pool on the floor.

Aurora stood in front of him with a still smoking pistol in her hand. Schmitt’s pistol that she had picked up from the dining room table. “I don’t want information,” she
said through gritted teeth. “I just want revenge. I want this dirty, murdering, child raping bastard to suffer as I have suffered.” Aurora spat on the German’s face which was
screwed tight in absolute agony. “As Mrs Purlieu suffered.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Alan nodded grimly. “Major Mendoza, do you have a telephone?”

“Yes, I do. Why?”

“Because I know someone who is an expert in the twin arts of making stinking Nazis suffer a slow and agonisingly excruciating death, and also of extracting information as efficiently and
effectively as possible.” Alan explained.

“We can kill two birds with one stone and also dispose of the bodies without fuss.”

“Mr Leon?” Sam asked.

“Just the man,” Alan replied.

“Then be my guest.” Mendoza showed the way with an outstretched arm to his study and a telephone.

“What’s all this I hear about you missing three of your men, Hauptsturmführer von Stein?” Brigadeführer Herold asked.

“Three scharführers in my company did not return from their weekend passes to London, sir,” von Stein explained from a position of attention as he stood in front of
Herold’s desk.

“What do you think has happened to them?” Herold asked with steepled fingers.

“I don’t know, sir.” Von Stein shrugged his shoulders. “I know the men well, sir. We’ve served together since Poland and it’s highly unlikely that
they’ve gone AWOL and it’s extremely unlikely that they’ve deserted. I mean where would they desert to? It’s virtually impossible to make it to Ireland. I think that the
Resistance in London must have killed them, sir.”

“The usual suspects, eh, Hauptsturmführer?” Herold said as he swivelled his chair from side to side. “Well you’ve lost four sergeants from your company in a matter
of weeks, von Stein - that’s pretty damned careless of you, don’t you think?”

Von Stein’s cheeks coloured at the criticism. “With all due respect, sir, what my men do when they are off duty is no concern of mine. They’re not children, they’re grown
men, and it is certainly not my responsibility to…”

Herold slammed both his palms onto the top of his desk. “What your men do is always your responsibility, von Stein, whether they are on or off duty!” Herold shouted angrily.
“The realisation of that responsibility is what separates a good officer from a bad officer. You are a father to your men, von Stein, and they are your children. Don’t you forget
it!”

“Yes, sir,” von Stein answered with lowered head. He felt suitably chastised.

“Good.” Herold stood up and straightened out his tunic. “I sincerely hope so, von Stein, both for your sake and more importantly for the sake of your men. You’re a good
officer, Hauptsturmführer.”

“Thank you, sir.” Von Stein acknowledged the compliment with bowed head.

“Your men admire and respect you, von Stein.” Herold started to pace around his office. “It may surprise you, Hauptsturmführer, that despite my reputation as a ruthless
bastard, the morale, wellbeing and spiritual welfare of the men under my command is, and always will be, my number one priority. The word on the street is that the men of your company would follow
you to the gates of hell itself.”

“Thank you, sir.” Von Stein blushed with pride. “Charlie Company is indeed a band of brothers, sir.”