Opening Moves (The Red Gambit Series) (38 page)

With no emotion, Shandruk and Braun lifted him from his deathbed and placed him partially in the water and partially in the long grass. The dead girl followed, arranged so those who discovered the corpse would see that it was she who had slain her assailant, even as he slid his own knife into her belly.

It was all over within two minutes and the group slid into the water and pulled the sodden boat into the river, quietly kicking out for the far shore of the Donau.

Using it solely as a flotation aid made sense, as the casual observer would probably see just a leaky damaged boat floating aimlessly by itself.

The current took them back as it flowed eastwards but they moved slowly out into the middle until they were certainly out of immediate danger, when a brief word from Rolf made them kick out to fight against the flow. As they neared the south bank they saw a number of boats of all shapes and sizes tied up and were rejuvenated by the possibilities opening up to them. They made for a gap between two such larger vessels and permitted the boat to drift away downstream, its purpose served.

It had already been decided what to do once a suitable craft had been found, so Braun looked around and found a way to get up onto the marina walkway, or at least get a better look around. A handy wooden piling helped him and within a moment, he was gone.

Uhlmann and Shandruk remained in the water, the latter tightly holding the Nagant pistol taken from the destroyed guard hut at the camp.

0155 hrs Sunday, 5th August 1945, Ybbs an der Donau, Soviet Occupied Lower Austria.

Meanwhile, Braun stole quietly upstream on the modest quay, flitting from cover to cover, checking each vessel as he went, until one caught his eye. Or more exactly, the chink of light through a gap in the warped wooden door drew him in. He slid quietly onboard and stole a glance through the same gap, seeing a large civilian moving inside the modest quarters.

Remaining on his belly, Braun used the fact that he was relatively well concealed to take in more of the quay and area. He was still deciding whether this was the right person to approach when he became conscious of something touching the back of his neck. That something was sharp and held in a very firm, unwavering grip.

Speaking in broken Russian, a decidedly Austrian voice casually enquired. “What do you want Ivan? I have no vodka here. No women. What do you want?”

Without the benefit of seeing who the man was, Braun could only take the gamble they had already decided upon.

“I am an escaping German soldier and I am looking for a boat to take me up river.”

If there was any relaxation on the part of the knife bearer, it was not evident to Braun.

“You are about as German as I am. Try again.” The accompanying prod broke skin and he felt the trickle of blood from the wound.

“I am Sturmscharfuhrer Braun, until recently of the Wiking Panzer Division. I have escaped from a prison camp and am trying to get back to Hamburg.”

The blade withdrew simultaneously with a chuckle from the throat of the vessel’s Captain.

“You may look round now Kamerad; this is your lucky day.”

Braun sat up and turned around, he was greeted with the vision of a huge one-armed man of indeterminate age sliding his dagger back into a wooden scabbard. The leather jacket and cap belonged to the civilian Braun had seen moments before in the cabin.

“Lucky day indeed. I am Pförzer, Hubert Pförzer, and I suspect you and I have shared the same dust in Russia. Until I lost my arm, I was Unterscharfuhrer Pförzer of the Totenkopf Division. Come into my home.”

With a huge grin, teeth shining through the darkness, Pförzer took Braun’s hand in a vice-like grip of welcome.

Braun hesitated.

“There are more of us, two more to be exact.”

“Then we must get them inside and out of the way quickly. There is a foot patrol along the quay every hour, and they will soon be upon us.”

Pulling Braun to his feet, Pförzer stepped onto the bank and pulled him physically off the boat. Braun doubted he had ever been in a stronger grip in his entire life.

“Oh, and if you ever want to sneak onto a boat, remember your weight will make it shift a little.”

“I did wonder how you knew Pförzer,” exclaimed Braun.

With Braun leading, they swiftly moved the small distance to where Uhlmann and Shandruk waited in the water. A whispered warning from Braun to lessen any surprise and they held up their hands for assistance. Both were equally surprised when they sailed out of the water, extracted by Pförzer’s amazing strength.

The Austrian took one look at Shandruk’s Nagant and pointed at the water.

“Get rid of that immediately. Let’s go, smartly now” was all the conversation from the Austrian before he whisked them off and into his small but comfortable barge cabin.

The pistol was already on the bottom of the Danube.

Rolf started to speak but the flat hand held aloft by Pförzer brooked no arguement.

The one-armed giant turned his head to Braun.

“Light,” he gestured at the oil lamp and Braun immediately turned it down so that no light would be visible to the approaching Russian patrol.

The two bored men strode past noisily and with a purpose, which purpose was fortunately to get back to their guard hut as soon as possible, not to worry about who could be sneaking around the moored boats and barges.

“We can relax now,” commented Pförzer, and again he gestured to Braun to adjust the lamp. The huge man busied himself in one corner and then turned around to his visitors.

“My barge is my home,” he waved his only hand expansively, “Formerly an iron ore carrier from Linz but now converted to my own needs.”

He clapped his hand on Braun’s shoulder and looked at the others.

“So, who do we have here then?”

Both identified themselves and their former unit, Uhlmann receiving a respectful click of the heels.

Pförzer reciprocated and spoke briefly of his service with the 3rd SS Aufklarungs Abteilung as he sorted under the bench seats for blankets and towels.

A kettle magically started whistling, none of them had even realised it was there, and coffee, real not ersatz, was swiftly thrust into their hands.

All three drank quietly, savouring the wonderful taste. The mugs had seen better days for sure, their enamel more chipped away than present.

The silence that descended on the group as they drank their fill seemed to turn a little awkward once mugs had been emptied.

Pförzer noted Rolf’s eyes firmly fixed upon him.

An unspoken question received a proper answer from Pförzer. “Black market,
 
kameraden, black market. I have business arrangements with some fine Russian entrepreneurs hereabouts, and with some of our American Mafiosi upriver.”

The pot did the rounds again and levels were replenished.

He sat down, stroked his hair into place and picked up his drink.

“Which arrangements are about to help you a very great deal.”

With their undivided attention, he continued.

“The Colonel here signs my passes. You need passes to move anywhere with the schiesse Russians in control, more so of late. My passes take me where I need to go, in order to acquire the finer things of life. The Colonel has expensive tastes and I satisfy them.”

A pause as his mug was raised.

“He lost his right arm fighting the Italians outside Stalingrad; I lost my left arm at Demjansk in forty-three. Between us, we save lots of money in gloves.”

The roguish grin on his face brought out their own smiles and they shared a small laugh.

Shandruk could not hold himself back.

“Truly?”

“Truly. I have at least five right gloves and no left ones.”

Not one of them believed the man, but they could not help but smile at his failed attempt to keep a straight face.

A full gulp and his mug emptied, Pförzer yawned and spoke wearily.

“You should be safe here. They don’t normally come on here unless they are picking up stuff for the Colonel. Get dry and grab some sleep. It’s coming up to three o’clock so you can have two hours easily before I put you in the hold. You can sleep more in there, provided one of you stays alert.”

Pförzer quickly tidied up the mugs, cleaned them and replaced them in the rack, then settled back into his chair and looked at his new comrades, realising that each was already asleep and dreaming of a better world.

At five o’clock he would get them into the hold and then be away to see Colonel Evgeny for his signed pass.

0503 hrs Sunday, 5th August 1945, Ybbs an der Donau, Soviet Occupied Lower Austria.

“Waking the dead would probably have been easier,” chirped Pförzer, as Shandruk became the last of the three to return to life, all having taken advantage of the safety offered to sleep deeply.

“As soon as you are all ready to move ,we will get you into the hold while I’m away. It’s always locked and it’s very secure, so provided you stay quiet at all times you shouldn’t have problems.”

He passed a paper wrap to Uhlmann.

“Apple, bread and wurst is all I have at the moment but I will be able to do better for lunch Herr Sturmbannfuhrer.”

Pförzer moved out and onto the deck, scanning the area carefully whilst appearing to busy himself with chores and checks. He beckoned the three out after a short delay.

Showing them down into the hold, Pförzer whispered, “In the far corner you will find sacks and sheeting. Very comfortable I should think menschen. Leave the boxes and stacks alone if you please.”

Before closing the hatch and locking them inside, Pförzer took another look around.

“I will be back within two hours kameraden. I will bring clothes and food with me and we will leave the quay immediately, if only that we may talk more openly and safely. There is lot of strange stuff going on with the Russians at the moment and I want to get clear of here as soon as possible.”

In the darkness, Uhlmann decided to save his precise and worrying explanation of the Russian behaviour for later.

“No lights, stay silent until you hear me speak directly to you. And for god’s sake, one of you stays awake! Alles klar meine herren?”

Barely audible assent and thanks floated up from the three already immersed in the total darkness of the hold, and then the locks were in place and Pförzer was gone.

0657 hrs Sunday, 5th August 1945, Ybbs an der Donau, Soviet Occupied Lower Austria.

It seemed like the man had been absent but a few minutes before the sound of the engine reluctantly coming to life disturbed Uhlmann. He had stayed awake first, whilst the others slept, and then placed Braun on alert and taken his own rest.

Two opaque panels in a small central structure in the ceiling allowed a low light to gently bathe the hold, sufficient for Uhlmann to see his comrades.

That Braun and Shandruk were fast asleep when at least one should have been alert was not wasted on him, and he had court-martialled men in his unit for the same offence on the Russian Front. The other two started awake as the engine roared with acceleration, and he looked at each man’s reaction.

Without the need for words, he established that Braun had indeed fallen asleep on guard. In the silence of looks exchanged between fellow soldiers, Braun accepted his blame, and his guilt was clearly marked on his pained expression. Rolf inclined his head and raised one eyebrow, in the style of an extravagant silent movie actor. In return, he received a resigned exhalation from the ashamed NCO. There was nothing more to be said.