A Pious Killing Read online

  As he entered the two men seated at a table rose and saluted him. The air was thick with cigarette smoke. The Obersturmfuhrer paused and half turned to Schirac.

  “Who said these men could smoke?” he asked.

  Schirac swallowed with difficulty and replied, “I did sir.”

  Netzer turned fully to face him, “You shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered ominously.

  “I am sorry, Obersturmfuhrer. It will not happen again.”

  “I hope not Hauptsturmfuhrer.”

  He turned to the men who were still at attention.

  “Sit down men,” he said. And then, as if to confound his previous remarks he took out a packet of cigarettes and offered the men a cigarette each. They gratefully accepted and took a light from the Obersturmfuhrer.

  “You like smoking I think?”

  “Yes Herr Obersturmfuhrer,” they replied.

  “I don’t like smoking,” Netzer said as he slowly shook his head.

  The men froze and took their cigarettes away from their lips. “No, no,” protested Netzer. “Do not misunderstand me. Please, continue with your enjoyment.”

  For a moment there was silence and slowly the men put their cigarettes back to their lips and continued to smoke.

  “You were on guard duty yesterday in the area of the cells, correct?”

  “Yes, mein Obersturmfuhrer.”

  “You were overheard discussing the prisoner in cell four.”

  The men looked at each other. So that’s what this is about. The thought that passed between them was almost tangible.

  “Is that why we are here, Herr Obersturmfuhrer?”

  Netzer suddenly took hold of the table they were seated at and threw it aside and roared, “Yes. Yes, that is why you are here. Your incompetent behaviour has put a vital mission at risk.”

  The men jumped to their feet, spilling their chairs and backing away towards the walls of the room. Just as suddenly, Netzer’s manner altered again.

  “Calm down men,” he soothed.

  He righted the table and chairs and invited them to sit down again. The men did as they were told but the fear sat in their eyes.

  “You know what I don’t like about smoking,” Netzer remarked gently.

  The men were frozen in terror now.

  “It gets in your eyes.”

  He looked at them, one to the other, as if expecting affirmation of his comment.

  “People tell me,” he went on, “That smokers cannot feel the irritation in their eyes because they are so used to smoke.” He stopped and smiled at them. “They are immune to it, as it were.” He directed his gaze at one of the men. The man immediately looked down. “You, for example,” he said. “You cannot know what it is like for a non-smoker like me to feel the pain of smoke in my eyes. The Fuhrer is a non-smoker. I wonder if you would smoke in his presence and blow smoke into his eyes.” Netzer got up from his seat again. “But do you know what?” he said. “I can give you an idea of what it feels like to be a non-smoker with smoke in your eyes.”

  The man he was staring at began to shake his head and tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. “Hauptsturmfuhrer,” Netzer said, “Please assist me.”

  “Obersturmfuhrer!” affirmed the corporal.

  “Place your cigarette on the table,” Netzer requested.

  The man did as he was told but he stood and backed away. Netzer’s smile did not waver as he ordered, “Secure him, Hauptsturmfuhrer.”

  Schirach seized the man by his arms and secured them behind his back. He raised them so that the man was forced to stoop downwards. With the lighted cigarette in his hand Netzer took the man by the hair of his head and lifted his face upwards.

  “Now my friend,” he whispered as he held the lighted end an inch from the man’s left eye. “This is what we non-smokers have to suffer every time you light up.”

  Slowly and deliberately he moved the cigarette towards the man’s eye. First he watched it scorch the eyelash. Then he moved it towards the man’s eyelid. The agonised screaming of a powerless victim caused even Hauptsturmfuhrer Schirach to struggle with his feelings. But then with a suddenness that startled his victim, Netzer pulled the cigarette away and started to laugh.

  He moved away and approached the second guard who was sitting on the floor against the far wall his head in his hands. He took the second guard by the hair of his head and laughed into his face.

  “You thought I was going to do it didn’t you?”

  He moved back to the first guard whose ribcage was trembling with panic.

  “You actually thought I was going to do it?”

  His laughter rose and then fell to a cold silence.

  “Come, Schirach,” he said. “Let’s leave these men to ponder their position. Meanwhile I will ponder whether or not the Gestapo has room for indolents like them.”

  In the early hours of the following morning, Shirach was returning from a raid. A group of Jews had been discovered and they had been rounded up and delivered to the transportation unit. He felt good. A successful raid and more enemies of the state removed from the Fatherland.

  As he progressed towards the canteen he found himself approaching a detail of men. They were engaged in carrying a body. As he drew level he asked one of the men, “What has happened here, Otto?”

  “Obersturmfuhrer Netzer had a change of heart. He has carried out his preferred punishment on Gunther and Walter. He went into a furious rage when he was informed that Officer Stern had not been apprehended. Stern has disappeared.”

  “Where is the Obersturmfuhrer now?” asked Schirach.

  “He’s leading the raid to arrest the apothecary. He knows the dissidents at the convent were not contacted, but he cannot be sure that Stern did not get a message to the apothecary.”

  Schirach leaned forward and removed the blanket that was covering the face of the corpse. He suppressed an involuntary gasp when he saw the burnt out eye sockets. The hollow circles of charred flesh cast the visage into an expression of comic mockery. There remained a faint odour of cooked meat.

  “And the other one?” he asked.

  “The same,” replied Otto.

  “Where are you taking the bodies?”

  “Obersturmfuhrer Netzer wants everyone to see them as an example. We are to sit them at table in the mess room. They are to stay there tomorrow until midday. Then we must burn them.”

  “What about the families?” asked Schirach. “Have they been told?”

  “The Obersturmfuhrer has taken a detail of men to arrest them. They will be delivered for transportation.”

  Schirach replaced the blanket on the face, nodded at Otto and the detail moved on.

  Ilsa was putting on her coat and pinning her hat to her hair when the shop door tinkled open. She looked across wishing that she had locked it and turned the sign before getting ready to leave. A young boy bounded in, red-faced and breathless.

  “I’ve brought a prescription,” he said.

  “You’ll have to bring it back tomorrow. We’re closed,” she said.

  “But it’s for Adolf,” the boy protested. “He said it’s urgent. He gave me a hundred.”

  At the sound of Adolf’s name Ilsa walked across the shop and closed and locked the door. Now she turned the sign to ‘closed’. The boy handed her the prescription and she told him to wait. She took the prescription and disappeared into the back of the shop. In a moment or two she re-appeared, searched the shelves for something and chose a lollipop which she handed to the boy.

  “Well done,” she said placing her hand affectionately upon the boy’s cap. “The apothecary said he will deliver the medicine. You can go now.”

  The boy thanked her for the lollipop and skipped out of the shop. She locked the door behind him and walked through to the back. The apothecary was not there. She heard a sound from above and climbed the stairs.

  In the gloomy room she found the apothecary at a radio transmitter, which he had brought out from under a floorboard. She liste
ned as he spoke his message and watched as he signed off and packed the radio away again.

  “What is it?” she asked, anxiety rising within her.

  “We are destroyed,” he replied in a hoarse whisper. “We must escape. If we are captured we will… It’s unthinkable…” He was interrupted by the sound of cars screeching to a halt outside the shop. He ran to the window and saw Gestapo agents and a team of SS troops pouring out of one black saloon car and a truck. The sound of banging on the shop door was followed by the sound of the door being smashed in.

  There was no precedent for the look that passed between the apothecary and Ilsa. Despair was inadequate as an accompaniment to their plight. Returning the radio transmitter to its hiding place and covering the removable floorboards with the rug and cupboard that routinely stood there, the apothecary rushed out of the room dragging Ilsa with him and pushed her into the room opposite. He just had time to close the door of the room they had vacated.

  “Quickly Ilsa,” the apothecary said in a voice that struggled to contain any expression. He took a key from the top pocket of his white jacket and used it to unlock a steel cabinet attached to the wall behind a desk. The pounding of boots on the stairs made him fumble as he reached inside the cabinet. A packet of capsules fell to the floor. He dropped to his knees to re-gather them and quickly removed two capsules from the packet.

  “Swallow this!”

  At the same moment as the door to the room burst open Ilsa and the apothecary swallowed a lethal dose of cyanide. The apothecary began to speak, “We won’t see it now but this evil will be defeated.”

  “It’s not fair,” was all Ilsa could manage.

  Obersturmfuhrer Netzer stood in the doorway, “Seize them,” he screamed. Guards rushed past him and took hold of the dissidents. Ilsa felt their steely hands grasp her arms at the very same moment as the first excruciating knife of cyanide sliced through her.

  In a few moments the wild-eyed Netzer was in possession of two corpses. His men could see the fury that engulfed him at being cheated of the chance to interrogate these two criminals. They made a mental note to steer well clear of him over the next few days if they only could.

  Thirty-five

  That evening Robert and Lily did not stir from their home. It was a quiet evening. No bombing raid. The silence of the sky twisted their nerves tight. Their ears strained to pick up the sound of the first enemy plane approaching from the east. They tingled with expectancy for the first explosion. But all night nothing came. There was to be no release from the tension.

  Lily poured them both a drink of schnapps and as she handed Robert his glass she leaned and kissed him on the mouth. As their lips met her mind flashed images of her kiss with Captain Netzer. The sexual confusion aroused her and she quickly placed her drink on a side table and began to desperately kiss Robert. After struggling to rid himself of his own glass Robert responded and they fell into a passionate embrace. In a moment Lily was overtaken by physical desire. She fell on top of him as he lay back on the couch and they began to make love. The eroticism of being with Robert and letting her thoughts run to Netzer multiplied the intensity of the physical pleasure. Even as she luxuriated in the feeling her mind agonised over the choice she was playing with.

  Thoughts of Netzer brought an intensification of the physical pleasure she was experiencing. But when she focused on Robert, the feeling was almost crippling. The words “I love you,” poured out of her like a primeval instinct. Each time she said it, it acted as a trigger to say it again. Robert reached both hands up to her face and whispered “Shhh.” With all his strength he turned her onto her back and re-entered her from on top. As their lovemaking entered its violently climactic rhythm, tears ran freely from Lily eyes. Robert collapsed on top of her and her arms encircled him. She began the “I love you” litany again but this time Robert said nothing. He lay with his face hidden in the curve of her neck thinking of Martha.

  The doctor and his wife spent the rest of the evening mostly occupied with their own thoughts. They listened to some music on the wireless until it was interrupted by a propaganda speech by Himmler. Switching off the wireless they each read for a while.

  Lily contemplated the extreme danger she had allowed herself to become embroiled in. The most frightening part of that danger was the way her mind was moving. She knew she had to face a choice and that she was becoming incapable of making the safe, sensible choice. Pausing in her reading she stared across at Robert. Looking at his serious expression as he concentrated on his novel she knew, even if she was reluctant to admit it yet, that the choice had already been made. The mortal danger for her lay in how to safely execute that choice.

  Robert paused from time to time in his perusal of The Valley Of Fear by Conan Doyle, a favourite of his which he had read many times. As he paused he looked at the face opposite. This woman he now lived with as his wife; this woman who shared his dangerous mission. He could not remotely conjure up a repetition of the feeling he had initially felt for Martha. If that had been love, what he now felt for Lily had to be something else. But then, he reasoned, events in his life had turned him into something else. Maybe the love he had had for Martha was no longer available to him. Maybe this connection to Lily was all that was left. He knew in his heart that he could never re-capture the love between himself and Martha. That was dead and gone; as sure as Conny was dead and gone. The only things left for Sean and Martha to share from now on were recrimination and despair. As he looked at Lily he was thinking, so I will have to learn to live with this kind of love. It is probably better than no love at all.

  “What happened at the convent?” Robert asked.

  “Helga was right,” Lily replied. “The strange thing is she wasn’t there. When she left here we agreed to meet at the convent but she didn’t appear. I obviously couldn’t ask about her. Nevertheless, she is right. I found Totd’s log book. He has written, ‘God’s representative – arriving early evening Tuesday week’.”

  “It’s Wednesday today,” calculated Robert. “That means he’s arriving in less than two weeks.”

  “Wrong,” interrupted Lily. “His entry was dated last Sunday. That means the Pope arrives next Tuesday, six days from now.”

  “Thank heavens. This waiting around is beginning to become a strain for all of us.”

  “We need to go over our action plan, Robert,” Lily suggested.

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  He got up and poured out two glasses of schnapps. Handing one to Lily she took his arm and stopped him as he turned away.

  “You’re forgetting something,” she said.

  He was puzzled for an instant and then realised what she meant. He leaned down and kissed her. ‘Why do I always have to remind him?’ thought Lily.

  “If he arrives Tuesday we do it Tuesday,” stated Robert emphatically.

  “Is that wise?” asked Lily.

  “Wise,” repeated Robert. “I don’t think anything we are planning to do could be labelled wise.”

  Lily smiled wryly.

  “Maybe not,” she said, “But in the context of our actions is it wise?”

  “The only thing I can say to that is we would be unwise to wait any longer. The sooner we complete the sooner we can get out of here. Everyday we are here brings us one day closer to discovery.”