The Second Objective

“Lieutenant Miller?”

Von Leinsdorf turned to see William Sharper standing above him, anxious and agitated, trying to make him out in the dark. They heard shouts from the auditorium; footsteps pounded toward them down the aisles. Von Leinsdorf pressed the bloodied knife into Sharper’s hand, pulled Carlson’s sidearm, and pointed it at him.

“Run,” said Von Leinsdorf. “Run!”

“What the hell are you doing?” asked Sharper.

Sharper stepped back a few paces, confused, looking from Von Leinsdorf and Be

“He’s a Nazi!” shouted Von Leinsdorf. “Back here, he’s a fucking Nazi! I got the bastard! I got him!”

Sharper turned and ran toward the screen, where Judy Garland was making her first appearance, singing and dancing in a hallway. Sharper stopped short, startled by the image, then used the knife to slice a gash in the screen, and as he burst through it, Von Leinsdorf fired three times.

Earl Gra

The front of the theater emptied, soldiers crawling over seats, scrambling toward the lobby exits, where MPs with riot guns stepped in and held their ground. Gra

“Nobody leaves! Get away from those exits! I want every man back in a seat!”

The projector shut down, the music died. A line of MPs and undercover men surged forward from the lobby and the exits to take control of the room. Gra

Was it Miller? Maybe; he couldn’t be sure. He was the right size, the right body type. But the face? He took a look at the serrated blade of the knife the man had carried, then jumped to the stage and pushed through the slash in the screen.

Ole was lying on his back ten paces away. A young kid, a private, was cradling his head in his hands.

“We need a medic back here!” Gra

He knelt down next to them. Ole saw he was there, felt for him with a shaking hand. Gra

“We get him, Earl?”

“We got him. The same knife he used on the border guards.”

“That’s good. He was on me before I- He moved so fast- Hurts something awful.”

“Take it easy, don’t talk, help’s coming.”

“I can’t figure what the hell Be

“Be

“Oh God, I don’t feel good, Earl, I don’t feel good.”

The private was holding up a syringe so Gra

“Eddie Be

“I think so. I just never figured an MP…” He started to fade, eyes blanking out.

“What MP? What MP?” He shook his head at the private. No morphine. Not yet. “Stay with me, Ole. Stay with me.”

Ole’s eyes focused again. “Those passes…meant to tell you…about those passes…” Blood bubbled out onto Carlson’s lips. Gra

“Don’t talk now.”

“Don’t think they knew about the mistake…Krauts for you, always think they got a better idea…”

Gra

27

Reims

DECEMBER 19, 9:20 P.M.

The syringe shattered when it hit the floor. Bernie dropped his head, a hand covering his eyes, trying not to cry. “You know him?” asked Gra

Bernie shook his head. Gra

“Did you see anything, Private?” asked Gra

“I’m not sure what I saw,” said Bernie.

“Somebody else was back here with him? An MP? Anybody else? Maybe two men?”

“Yeah, I think maybe.”

“Where they’d go, out that way?”

“I heard the door close.”

“You a medic?”

“No, sir.”

Gra

“Come with me,” said Gra

“What about him?” asked Bernie.

“Nothing we can do for him now. Come on.”

They hurried out the back door into an alley. Gra

“Take that way, once around the block, meet back here. Give a shout if you see anything.”

Gra

He knew this man. He remembered him now. The one who’d chased them at the hospital, who came after them on the motorcycle. He didn’t think the man had placed him. Not yet, anyway.

Bernie reached the end of the alley and looked in both directions. Visibility was less than twenty yards. No sign of Von Leinsdorf.

Should he go back as the officer ordered him to do or keep walking? The darkness beckoned. He had a chance at least; now that he was free of the German, he could fade into the night. They were focused on Von Leinsdorf now but if he went back to that movie house, there’d be MPs all over him, questions he couldn’t answer, then an American firing squad, just as Von Leinsdorf had predicted.

He could use the dead girl’s apartment, at least overnight. Find a map, figure a way out of the city. But to do what? Go where? His life in Germany was finished, even if his parents were still alive. He could never set foot there again, not after what Von Leinsdorf had told him about the death camps. He’d heard the rumors, and he’d been around the Nazis long enough to know they were capable of it. Von Leinsdorf had only confirmed what he’d feared was true for years.

A sense of shame overwhelmed him. His impulsive little acts of rebellion in Berlin seemed so puny and inadequate. He could have done more, tried harder to fight them, but all he’d thought of when it really mattered was his own survival. When he faced his own death, whenever it might come, what damage had that done to his immortal soul? If he’d failed so miserably what difference did it make if he lived or died?

The bottom dropped out: Was Von Leinsdorf right? Did it all mean nothing? How could whatever he had left of his life make up for what he’d failed to do, if he didn’t take a stand now?

He spotted something lying in a corner of the alley and picked it up. An MP’s armband. Nearby a white helmet and billy club had been tossed in a trash can. They’d come this way, Von Leinsdorf and the other man, after they’d left the theater. Bernie looked down the street. The girl’s apartment was in that direction. That was where Von Leinsdorf would go first.

To take care of me. Another loose end. Unless I take care of him first.

He heard MPs’ whistles blowing somewhere nearby, footsteps ru

He ran back toward the theater, until he saw the American officer rounding the corner. Bernie showed him the armband, then led him back to where he’d found it. Bernie watched as he examined the other articles.