The Berkut (44 page)

Now Brumm watched as the unlikely pair approached, arm in arm.

Before reaching them, the woman glanced at Brumm, then disappeared into the building, leaving the three men alone.

"Good evening, Sergeant Major Rau," Herr Wolf said pleasantly.

He always addressed Beard formally by his rank and name and had said repeatedly that if his generals had been as good as his sergeants, they'd all still be in Berlin. "Would you be so kind as to allow the colonel and me to discuss a private matter?" Beard nodded, rose stiffly, brushed the dust off himself and followed the woman into the dwelling.

Above them a small aircraft droned southeast, flying low over the next valley. At the sound they backed instinctively into the evening shadows. Brumm looked up, trying to identify the plane, while Herr Wolf stared straight ahead, trembling.

53 – July 5, 1945, 9:40 P.M.

After the aircraft had passed, it took several minutes for Herr Wolf to compose himself. When he spoke again the confidence had left his voice, and as he talked he kept staring up at the sky. "I've heard aircraft several times in the past few days," he said nervously. "Are they searching for us?"

"No. Searchers employ a geometric pattern to crisscross an area
methodically. There's no cause for alarm when they fly from one horizon to the other."

"I think they are searching for us."

"If they begin a search for us, we'll know it."

"I have instincts for these things," Herr Wolf argued. Brumm ignored this. "You wanted to see me."

"Yes," Herr Wolf said nervously. He was perspiring heavily even though it was a cool evening. "I'm healthier, but my nerves are not fully recovered," he went on, reading Brumm's face. "I need more time, Colonel, to mend from my ordeal."

"There's plenty of time; I've told you that. When winter comes, it will seal us in here. We'll have until spring to rest and prepare."

"Our supplies are adequate?"

"With discipline they're adequate, but not plentiful. The natural resources of this valley will hold us through fall, but by spring it won't be able to sustain us without irreparable damage. We didn't plan for this many people."

"It was your decision to increase the scope of this operation," Herr Wolf reminded him gruffly.

Again Brumm ignored the comment. "After the snow settles in, I'll go outside to pick up our papers and to try to get a feel for what's going on. Waller will accompany me; the mission will require several days-perhaps as many as fourteen."

"Two weeks?" Herr Wolf's eyes were wide.

"There's no need for concern. Beard will be here. We're safest in winter. The snow will hinder any wanderers. You'll be perfectly secure during my absence."

"You're sure this is necessary?"

"Yes. But it's premature to talk about this, and in any case it isn't

what you wanted to see me about."

"Correct. Actually ... it's about my niece." "What about her?"

"When we leave, we'll take Geli with us." Herr Wolf stiffened in anticipation of Brumm's reaction.

"Out of the question. We're not prepared for that."

"But you have the others," Wolf whined. "I want my niece to remain with me. It seems fair that we should all have someone."

"No," Brumm said emphatically. "She cannot leave this valley." Herr Wolf clasped his arms behind his back and looked at the sky, swallowing loudly. “Fine. I understand that. Perhaps then we should give serious consideration to staying here permanently. It's quite adequate for my needs."

"We've just been through that. It's not possible. We are too many, and eventually the Russians will come."

"Then perhaps we should reduce the size of the group.
In
a war some must be willing to sacrifice."

"We're no longer at war," Brumm answered. It was unnerving; he was negotiating with a child.

"A technicality. We were at war long before the first shot was fired, and we will remain at war as long as I am alive."

"To the world you are dead. You died April thirtieth, and your body was burned. The war is over. We are no longer soldiers, only criminals. Our mission is solely to save our skins."

"But what about Geli?"

"You yourself suggested that we reduce the size of our contingent. We could begin with her."

Herr Wolf backed away, his mouth open. "I reject it, Colonel. Barbaric. You know my views on officers who think and act theoretically. You are only theorizing that the woman will not fit in."

"Theory, hell," Brumm snapped. "I'm here because of pragmatism. That's what this is all about."

"Please control yourself, Colonel. There's no need to profane an intelligent conversation because you lack adequate means of expression."

Brumm felt his frustration rising. "I remind you that she is a Jew." Herr Wolf stepped forward and wiggled a finger at him. "You are wrong. You have no expertise in such matters. She thinks she is aJew; that much is true. She even looks like a Jew-to all but the expert eye. But I have tested her thoroughly, and I can assure you that she is Aryan. It is quite possible that the Jews stole her from her Aryan parents when she was a baby; in any case, there is no Jewish blood flowing in her veins. She's the purest of pure. I know my own niece."

"Her parents were Jews. Her husband was a Jew. She admits this."

"She has no parents."

"Because they were eliminated in the camps."

"No proof. And there was no husband. She is a virgin."

Brumm stared at Herr Wolf and shook his head slowly. "She is not going with us."

"But she cannot describe her parents-not a single feature, not a single memory. I remember my mother as if she were standing here now. A child remembers such details, no matter what happens. They are etched in the subconscious. I conclude that she was kidnapped by Jews."

"I will not take her with us," Brumm said slowly, emphasizing every word.

Herr Wolf stepped away as if to leave, then pivoted to face the colonel. His voice changed and the crispness of authority returned. "I see. You will indulge me when it is time and inform me so that I can prepare her." He turned and went inside.

Brumm sank to the ground and stared up at the stars. This was the second time since their arrival that Herr Wolf had pressed an issue with the colonel. Where was all this leading?

54 – July 6, 1945, 3:00 P.M.

Rivitsky complained incessantly from the time they left Berlin, but because his traveling companion was Petrov, he got little sympathy. They were now housed in a small farmhouse near Nordhausen. Two weeks ago they had driven from Berlin to their new headquarters in two lorries, carrying their records, supplies and field gear. Petrov had displayed interest in the sights along the way and made frequent side journeys, which extended their trip by several days when it should have taken less than one.

Russia's victorious army, its mission completed, was lethargic, a lazy giant sprawled across the countryside in a state of relaxation. Few checkpoints were manned; not a single bridge was guarded. Russians make poor garrison troops, Petrov told himself. Near Dessau they passed cavalrymen riding naked, bashing one another with long sticks. Soviet horses grazed near the burned-out wreckage of a dozen Tiger tanks.

It was a cool afternoon, and Rivitsky stoked a fire in the wood stove. "The Americans may be a problem for us," he said.

"I don't think so. Germany will be partitioned according to an agreement reached some time ago. Only Bad Harzburg itself will be in the American zone. Besides, the Americans are still aglow with friendship for their Soviet brothers. If we encounter some who don't share this feeling, we have plenty of vodka to help them change their thinking. "

"They will be suspicious of our presence."

"In our own zone? They are the interlopers here. I've also seen to it that Moscow has ordered small units of our comrades to be deployed all around here for a variety of reasons, most of them pointless other than to provide camouflage. One more group won't attract any attention."

"Still," Rivitsky replied. "I'm nervous about it."

"To be expected. We know what we're after; the rest of the world doesn't. You and I have to keep our wits."

"How soon before winter sets in?"

"It will be early up there, as in Russia. The Harz will be under snow before much longer. If they're still in there, they'll have to sit out the winter; in fact, that's probably been their plan from the start. It will give us some time to plan and reconnoiter. If they're in there, the winter is to our advantage, and it will give them a false sense of security. "

"We could send Ezdovo into the interior of the upper Harz." "Then what? I want to take them at the time and under the conditions I dictate; I want him alive."

"Not likely. These Nazis have a penchant for cyanide."

"The littler dogs, yes, but not this monster. He's with Brumm.

Right now they're probably safely dug in. It's not like Hitler to dwell on the negative. He'll be feeling invincible; after all, Brumm snatched him from the jaws of death."

"Then they'll fight."

"Only if we force them to. They want to disappear. They'll try to keep a low profile and slip quietly away. Ezdovo and I have discussed this at length. It's an exercise in wolf hunting. There are two approaches: Drive him into the open or trap him. Ezdovo's people use dogs to pick up the scent and push the animal. Or sometimes they butcher a caribou and drag its carcass through the forest. Then the hunter conceals himself and waits. To catch a wolf, one must have patience and nerves. The best hunters attempt to trap a particular beast. They learn his track and trace his movements and habits. Then, when they know him and can predict his pattern, they lay the trap based on what he will do. That is my intent."

"I don't follow you."

"Ezdovo and Pogrebenoi will operate from a small airfield near Magdeburg. We have carefully constructed a search grid overlaying our mountain charts. They will fly as the weather permits and radio their observations to us in code after every flight."

"Aerial reconnaissance?"

"Precisely. It's too big an area to cover on foot. We don't have the manpower and it would not be in our interest to try to mobilize it. Besides, the German colonel has an advantage in there, I suspect. Ezdovo and Pogrebenoi will be our eyes from above."

"When we have their location, we move in."

"No. I simply want to confirm their location." Petrov spread a chart on the table. "See the topography? The Harz inhis jut off the central German highlands. If they're in the Harz, they can't stay there; they have to get out of the country. When they move they'll take a route through the most isolated regions of the country. They can't go into France or Czechoslovakia. They have no choice but to move south to Austria or Switzerland, and then on to Italy. I have evidence to support this deduction."

"They might get brazen-grab an automobile and drive south. Or perhaps they have one stashed?"

Petrov considered the idea. "Unlikely. If they were stopped, there'd be no option but to fight. By staying in the wilds they can evade confrontation. Remember, the wolf generally prefers to run away from trouble."

"So the trap will be laid in Italy?"

"Probably," Petrov replied. "I believe they'll wind their way south from the Harz to the Frankenwald, then turn southeast along the spine of the Friinkische Alb, then on to the Alps along the Austrian border. There are four crossing points: the Brenner Pass, south of Innsbruck; the Reschen-Scheideck Pass, near the Austro-Swiss frontier; the Otztaler Pass between the first and the second; and farther east the Nabfeld Pass." He pointed to each as he spoke.

"All this presupposes that they are in the Harz," Rivitsky reminded him.

"On that count I have confidence that Bailov and the doctor will provide us with a definitive answer. He's in th
ere; they'll confirm it." Petro
v folded his map with a snap.

55 – July 9, 1945, 11:00 A.M.

Gnedin entered the town of Bad Harzburg just before noon on July 9. He carried false German identity papers and Russian diplomatic credentials to fall back on if necessary. Bailov arrived the next afternoon.

Within an hour of arriving, Gnedin made contact with the town's two physicians and told them he was a medical corps veteran from the Eastern front. His unit had been routed near Katowice. The Russians had executed the wounded and pressed him and his medical orderlies into a slave unit. He alone had escaped and made his way home to Dortmund, only to discover that his wife and three children had perished in the bombing raids. He had been wandering aimlessly for weeks before finally finding himself in Bad Harzburg. It occurred to him, he told them, that Germany needed his medical training more than ever. The two doctors, both elderly veterans of the Great War, made him welcome and offered him the extra room in their shared surgery.