Act Four
Scene One
Chapter 9
Berlin:
Hans Teppel looked at his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. It was nearly 2100 and he still hadn't heard anything. Worse, his boss, General Schellenberg, was entertaining an old crony of his, Standartenführer Weiss from Leipzig. They'd gone to dinner together and were now indulging in some brandy in Schellenberg's office. And Teppel had a nasty suspicion that Schellenberg was the reason he hadn't been contacted yet.
Teppel heard murmurs outside his door and straightened. Then he heard hearty laughter and even louder goodbyes. Maybe now . . .
To his surprise, the door opened and he saw Standartenführer Weiss in full SS regalia staring at him from the door.
"Major Hans Teppel?" Weiss asked as Teppel snapped to attention.
"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer. Heil Hitler! May I be of service?" Behind Weiss, he could see four alert SS guards. Fear twisted Teppel's insides; Weiss had a nasty reputation dating to his time in Berlin. Was this Schellenberg's way of getting rid of him?
Weiss strolled into the room, his eyes roaming curiously. "You have had some damage."
"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer."
"The fortunes of war." Weiss sighed exaggeratedly. "A pity." He closed the door behind him.
"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer. Would you care for some brandy?"
Weiss, to Teppel's surprise, roared with laughter. "I believe I have had enough brandy, Teppel. Nein, I am more interested in conversation." He settled himself in a chair and nonchalantly crossed his ankles. Genially, he waved Teppel back to his seat.
"Conversation, Herr Standartenführer?" Teppel sat on the edge of his chair, wondering if he could overpower the taller Weiss if he had to. But there were those guards outside . . . He began to turn the ring on his finger, the ring with the poison . . .
"Jawohl, Teppel. It is rare that I have the opportunity forsome pleasant conversation." He sighed loudly. "The fortunes of war again. And the burdens of command."
Was he drunk? If he was, he hid it well. What do I say?
But Weiss didn't seem to need a reply from him. "Ja, the burdens of command. The stories I could tell. Why, I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb."
Teppel froze for a moment, and stopped playing with the ring. Then he stood and walked over to his liquor stock. He poured himself a drink, gathering his thoughts. "I, too, have stories, Herr Standartenführer. Of my service to the Fatherland. Once, I shot my arrow over the house and hurt my brother."
"Ja, command and the war will often cause pain," Weiss said solemnly. "Sometimes, my soul is full of discord and dismay."
Teppel slowly turned around and looked at Weiss, waiting for him to make the next move.
Weiss nodded approvingly. "Sehr gut, Teppel. Now, I understand from a theatrical friend of mine that you need a package moved. Where is it?"
"At the Tiergarten zoo; I will take you."
"Good. First, a warning. Two of the men outside are loyal SS, and they are killers. Do nothing to make them suspicious. You will not be able to warn your package; he will think you betrayed him. Do you understand?"
Teppel nodded.
"One more warning." Weiss stood and leaned closer. "Beware of Schellenberg."
"I know," Teppel began.
"Nein, you do not," Weiss said softly. "Schellenberg is not as loyal to Hitler as you think. He, Himmler and several others are trying to negotiate a separate peace with the Allies.(1)"
Teppel stared at him. "I don't believe it."
Weiss smiled grimly. "It is true. Himmler has already tried once. But Himmler is also a coward; he dares not cast suspicion on himself while Hitler is watching him. If anything goes wrong, if Hitler becomes suspicious, those men would not hesitate to bring down others, guilty or not. Do you understand?"
Teppel nodded.
Weiss smiled briefly. "Then, as my friend is fond of saying, letthe play begin."
Weiss opened the door and swept through, followed by Teppel.
...
Mike Anders was shivering in the cold, dark night. Cloudy as it usually was, the nearly full moon was hidden from sight, and with the lack of lights anywhere, the very shadows were threatening. If he were a man to believe in ghosts, he would be extremely nervous. But he didn't, so he had nothing to be nervous about. Right? Yeah, right.
But he was nervous, and he was scared. Since he'd lost touch with the OSS last year, he didn't know whom to trust, whom to turn to. And sometimes, he'd trusted the wrong person — which was how he'd gotten hurt.
Thank God, he'd managed to get to Berlin. Thank God, Teppel was still alive and able to help. Maybe his luck was changing. Maybe . . .
A noise spun him around. There was a man approaching, a man in uniform. Anders waited until the man got closer. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. It was Teppel. He walked over with a smile . . .
Then he heard the sound of a weapon being cocked.
"Halt!" cried a voice behind him.
Anders started to turn. But his treacherous right leg gave way under him, and he fell heavily. Several pairs of arms reached for him and soon held him fast. A tall SS colonel walked over and, with a smile, snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. Still, Anders tried to break free, and was rewarded with a rifle butt into his back. He fell with a groan to his knees.
A gloved hand reached under his chin and tilted his head up. "You have spirit," said the colonel. "I enjoy questioning men with spirit. It makes it so much more entertaining when they break." The colonel straightened. "Felsenthal, Loeffler, bring him."
Two beefy SS men grabbed his arms and dragged him to his feet. Anders still tried to fight them, but was nearly immobile in their heavy grip.
Then he saw Teppel. Bitter bile rose in his throat. So, he finally turned. Why? What happened? Any fool can see how the war is going. Now, he betrays us . . . Betrays me?
Teppel stared at Anders emotionlessly. Then he turned and walked away.
The colonel turned to the other two men. "Return to headquarters."
"Jawohl, Herr Standartenführer." The two saluted and disappeared into the darkness.
Anders was dragged, half carried toward a car. They threw him inside; he hit his head against the door. Dazed, he felt them secure his handcuffed hands to a rod behind the front seat. The SS colonel got in beside him. The other two men got into the front and, in moments, the car started.
"Cigarette?" the colonel asked. "No?" He lit it and took a long drag. "American, very good. As you know, Herr Anders."
"You have the wrong person," he bluffed, though his insides were turning somersaults. "My name is Baum."
"Your name is Mike Anders, though I doubt that is your real name. You and I will be spending some time together. We should get acquainted. Can you fly an airplane? A small civilian craft holding no more than five?"
Anders kept silent.
"No answer?" An elaborate sigh. "Very well. Then let us talk of 'graves, of worms, and epitaphs, make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.'(2)"
Astonished, Anders raised his head and turned to look at Weiss.
Weiss smiled. "Teppel didn't betray you, Herr Anders. We have a mutual friend in common; he entrusted you to me." Weiss reached over and unlocked the handcuffs. "Cigarette?" He proffered his gold case as Anders rubbed his sore wrists.
Still stunned, Anders took a cigarette and let Weiss light it.
"First, we need to get you better. Some food, a few days' rest and a doctor."
"Who are you?" Anders finally asked.
Weiss smiled. "That mutual friend — he calls me Hamlet. Now, rest; we have a long ride ahead of us."
Anders sank back against the seat, a wave of relief sweeping over him. Hamlet, one of the Six who reported directly to the Stage. Never in his wildest dreams could he have hoped for this. Then . . .
How in hell did Teppel manage to contact the Stage?
1 True. Several books dealing with 1945 mention that Himmler was trying to negotiate a separate peace for himself and others, including Schellenberg.
2 William Shakespeare: Richard II, Act three, Scene two
