Chapter 63: Forged in Flames 22nd February 1942
It was a bad morning for all concerned. A rare one that saw them all arguing, but it was hard for an argument not to start. The trouble festered overnight, the participants too tired to engage the night before but the verbal sparring commenced almost the moment they'd all woken. Murmurings between pairings existed, though the full argument did not begin until they were all in the same room. Fortunate they were, that there were no adjoining houses, otherwise Rome would be full of scandalous gossip that could shed light on what was really going on, that a lot of the Italian people did not know about. Some things couldn't be let go though…
When Elsa Hartmann heard what she'd heard the day before, from the mouth of a tortured young Englishman, she needed to know the truth. She wasn't supposed to have heard it, nor was James supposed to have said it, but what was done was done. There wasn't a lot that could be done once it was said, leaving it more open to interpretation as to what it could really mean. Although in the context of war it narrowed it down somewhat and knowing Kurt too it was also fairly clear in her mind of what the Englishman was trying to say. The comments were not made at her as such, but at Kurt and Hans, who'd shown her their prize exhibit in his natural habitat. Hanging from the bar of his bed again, James was a gentleman when she walked into the room holding Leo, smiling at her whilst Hans wasn't looking. She might have been a married woman with no intentions of ever being unfaithful to her husband, but she would not ignore the kind gesture from a clearly tortured man. Surprising her by knowing German, it was the words that he spoke in her own language that concerned her, that she needed to know the truth about.
That was why there was such tension. The whole car journey back from the compound to their house in Rome was a silent one, one in which Kurt made no attempt at conversation, whilst Hans was too busy focusing on the road in the dark. She knew that the older man of the two was well aware of her fury about what she'd heard, but Kurt was the high-ranking Nazi amongst them and could easily ignore it. He'd done so the night before like everyone else in the house, Lyla only finding out that there was some sort of trouble between them when Kurt mentioned how upset Elsa was at what she'd seen. The Irishwoman was aware that the blonde and her son were invited to the compound, leaving her with the house to herself and a chance to be able to contact London using her usual methods. It was a risk in one way, that it might have all been a trap, but she had little choice when the information was as pressing as it was.
Thrust into an argument that she didn't know the full detail of, Lyla was having to listen to begin with as Elsa began to tear into Hans about what she'd heard.
"Is it true!?" She roared. "I want to know Hans!"
"Elsa, please…".
"No! I want to know the truth about what that the prisoner said!"
Hans hated James Maguire, hated him more than he'd hated any man before, even more so than the father who'd practically abandoned him upon the death of his favoured brother earlier in the war. The Pilot provided him with the image of Britain that the whole country liked to promote itself, the bumbling idiots that fought like lions when cornered, lions that refused to surrender despite the pressure. The woman that the prisoner loved was the weakness they'd finally found, but their original aim of discovering who he really was, was yet to amount to anything. Although he may have carried out his orders without question, if he was honest to himself and pushed the anger away about James' nationality, he would have never wished it upon another man. He would not last if Elsa was being threatened in the same way in which Kurt threatened James with his love…
"Elsa, this is not for us to discuss…". He desperately tried to get her to move away from the topic.
With fury in her eyes, Elsa was so angry that the words became stuck in her throat, leaving her to splutter like a damaged engine. Kurt picked the exact wrong moment to walk out of the bedroom, though he and Lyla had been listening in anyway. The two of them were practically right up against the door at first, though when Elsa began shouting, they could have been out in the street, and they'd have heard her. Fed up of waiting, Kurt strolled out to go towards the kitchen, his presence acknowledged with a dip of the head from Hans, but a furious glare instead from Elsa. His plan was to at least make it to the kitchen and a cup of tea before she turned on him. However, he would not receive that luxury. Instead she went straight for him.
"Kurt, I want to know what is going on!"
Bravery was required to address a personal friend of Adolf Hitler in such a manner, albeit Elsa did not lack for it. She refused to stand by and watch her husband become dragged into situations that a good man like him should not have been involved in. Where Kurt was a brilliant influence in Hans' life, having been so for many years, she was beginning to understand the negative side of such influence as well. He might have put up a good game, especially around little Leo, but she knew he was a darker man underneath the surface. Having not known him before he'd gone to Poland, she was not conflicted by the side to him that was seen before the lengthy spell in the East, where he was a very different man. He might still have been the Nazi Doctor that The Führer relied upon, but he did not have the same aura then… the same darkness. She did not know that side to the man, unable to be corrupted by it, and therefore could only judge him on the time she'd been in his presence. Her life had changed immensely in that time, becoming a married woman, but Kurt always remained a dark presence in it in the same manner as from the moment she met him. She was just as good an actress as Lyla, not that she knew it.
"Good morning to you to Elsa…". He spoke quietly, caging his anger at being spoken to in such a way.
"Kurt I want to know the truth about what the Englishman said!" She continued, shouting again. "Neither of you will deny what he said but Hans will not tell me the truth or whether the prisoner is lying! Why are you hiding this from me!"
Sighing as pleasantly as he could, Kurt tried to think of what to say to her that would suffice as an answer. Elsa was a beautiful young woman in his eyes, Hans doing well to find someone like her and marry her before she was taken by someone else. The love between the two was a sight to behold too, clearly very much in love. He was still the man that he was though, and over the time he'd known the blonde, his opinion of her began to change. The lovely young German woman that was almost the model of perfection that they strived for, was gradually becoming more hostile towards him and more importantly, what they were doing. Showing her the prisoner was his idea too, though he'd made a rare mistake in doing so, he'd realised the moment he sat in the car the night before. The plan was quite a basic one, to parade Elsa and Leo in front of James to remind him of the life that he could not have. She was not too dissimilar in appearance to Erin Quinn, the prisoner's lover, a more personal reminder to James that he hoped would entice him into talking. Once again it hadn't worked, and worse still, the Captain opened his mouth to plant the seed into Elsa's mind about what had happened at the village the day prior. James did not enjoy a pleasant evening after she went back to the car…
He did not have to tell her anything at all about what happened, nor would he. The SS death squad that carried out the killings returned to Germany once the bodies were buried in a mass grave, the Doctor content with knowing that none of them would ever speak about what happened. Hans was under strict orders from him never to speak of what happened there, and his utmost confidence remained with his Lieutenant. The uncomfortable young man hid his disgust over what they'd done from his superior, reminding himself of his duty to Das Reich as well as the building of the new world order that they often spoke of. The Jews were their enemies who'd surrendered their country at the end of The Great War, deserving everything they got… but with children, there came a moral line that the Lieutenant could not cross. The deaths of the twenty nine defenceless juveniles made him feel sick.
"I am not hiding anything from you, Elsa and neither is your husband…". Kurt began to explain gently. "… now, can we please stop this shouting, it really is ruining a lovely morning".
An explanation that would have silenced anyone who feared him, Kurt suddenly faced an unexpected mental battle with Elsa, who was not going to be reasoned with so easily. The young women held a lot of heart, he had to give her credit, but she was beginning to get on his nerves after only speaking to her for a few fleeting seconds. Mental battles were usually between himself and James and a woman arguing with him was not something that he took to kindly. It was clear, he thought to himself, that Hans was still to teach Elsa her place as a wife properly yet, judging by how righteous and opinionated she was starting to become. Seemingly forgetting that the men needed to do their duty, his opinion of her was lowering by the minute.
"I do not believe either of you, there is something that you are not telling me!" She shouted again, brushing off Hans when he reached for her hand.
"Elsa, please, you will wake Leo if you keep shouting". Hans tried to reason with her once more.
"Do not bring our son into this, Hans! He is an innocent boy who should not be spoke of in the same breaths as what your prisoner spoke of!"
Cursing James for existing, Hans was running out of ideas in his attempts to make his wife move away from the topic at hand. If Kurt was not there, and was somewhere miles away, he would tell her about everything that happened. Although it would almost definitely make her cry and perhaps love him less, it would have been easier for him to be honest and shoulder the burden, rather than carry the guilt alone on his conscience. Unlike his mentor, Hans did have one. His head told him that it was his duty, and on the day his head won out, not that he would have been able to do anything to stop it. Conveniently, Kurt left out the details of the death squad and the machine guns when he'd told him earlier on that morning, before they'd fetched James from his cell. With the full knowledge of what was to come beforehand, he knew he would not have gone along with it, despite it being a direct order when it came from Kurt. The older man must have realised it too, he thought, hence why he'd not given him the full picture. His duty would always win out though, something which his wife needed to be reminded of…
"Elsa, darling, we have a duty to our country… to our future! We have to complete our duty, no matter where it takes us…".
"So something did happen!" She snapped. "What have you done, Hans?"
Glaring at his protégé, a furious Kurt was ready to rip into the young woman for being so inquisitive and ignoring her duty as his wife. She was not there to ask questions about what his assignment entailed; she was there to watch the house and bear the young man's children. That was a woman's place in his mind, not that he followed the rule himself. Luckily for everyone in the house that morning, Lyla's decision to walk out of the bedroom and insert herself into the ongoing argument, saved his fury from being unleashed. She'd suffered from that fury at her worst and would not see Elsa be harmed even a tenth of what she'd been.
"Hans… Elsa… Kurt… what is the commotion?"
Staring at her with his brows furrowed, Kurt couldn't quite work out what she meant at first. He'd been with her in the bedroom, listening into the argument between the married couple in the room next door, already knowing what the commotion was in regards to. It took a couple of seconds for him to register that it was her way of calming Elsa, for which he was grateful. There would only have been one course of action in his mind if the young blonde didn't pull herself back into line, and bloodying her lip in front of her husband would have caused too many problems for him. Lyla stopped the problem from growing, though with her own agenda in play too. If she could calm them all down, then she could almost certainly obtain the true series of events from Kurt…
"Lyla, something terrible has happened and they will not tell me what it is!" Elsa was not calm at all in her answer, still eyeing the men furiously.
"Calm down Elsa…". Lyla held out a hand, placing it on the younger woman's shoulder. "… you will never be able to learn the truth if you shout over it".
Appreciative of her intervention, Kurt managed to slip away as she calmed the younger woman down, even going as far as making a cup of tea which he rarely ever did. Taking a minute to calm herself, tears began to sting in the corners of the blonde's eyes when she began to mull over what truly might have happened. When she'd been with them to see the Englishman, there was such sincerity in his voice that it was too believable. It could have been a trick of course, she reminded herself of her foolishness in forgetting that he was on the opposite side to hers of the war… but it was not a war that she wished to be involved in either. There was little too different to the British than them in her mind, unable to possess the same disgust that her husband held their apparent enemy in. The young man's words transcended the boundaries of territory and empires, the words of a human being not defined by a flag, even in a time of war.
"I am sorry Lyla… I… the English prisoner… he…".
Stumbling where she'd previously been firm, Elsa struggled to find the words to tell Lyla exactly what James had said while she was there. They were words which she never wanted to hear when her husband was seemingly involved, words which she reserved for the worst kind in humanity, not the man she'd fallen in love with. He was such a gentleman when he needed to be, to accompany his good looks, but in a new light she saw a different man. Hans hadn't changed in appearance, nor it appeared much in personality, but once the words were associated with him, she couldn't change the image that appeared in her mind.
"What did he say, Elsa?" Lyla tried calmly again.
"He… he said that… he said that… he said that they were murderers! That Kurt and Hans were responsible for killing innocents… children!"
A chill ran down Lyla's spine at the words ringing out in German. Kurt's capacity to commit such atrocity was well known to her, albeit not every brutality that he'd committed. He could slaughter innocent people without so much as another thought, proving so with the extermination camps that he'd been so heavily involved in implementing. For Hans to be dragged into his sick games was concerning though, especially when he was such an impressionable young man. Being brainwashed to believe in the Nazi cause from such a young age made him susceptible to doing anything Kurt wanted him to do, believing it to be for the good of Das Reich. Killing innocents was not for the good of anything, especially humanity.
"Hans…". Lyla cautioned. "Is… is this true?"
Lying to his wife was surprisingly simple when compared to Hans' internal processes reaction to having to lie to the Irish woman. Lyla was always very good to him, a secondary mother after the abandonment by his own, and lying to her hurt him more than he thought. A lot more than he'd ever thought. However, neither Elsa nor Lyla could ever know what happened at the railway station, and with Kurt only one room away, he was not going to tell them in a hurry. He valued his life far too much for that.
"Lyla, you understand how difficult these parts of life can be. I have my duty… you both know that I am loyal to our way of life".
"I am not questioning your loyalty Hans… but you have upset your wife and she wishes for you to tell the truth".
Pausing, Hans glanced over to Elsa, who held a hopeful look in her eye. Lyla's life experience left her far more able to be able to deal with such a situation that she was confronted with. James was unaware of just how much trouble that he was causing from his comment, though his intentions were seemingly clear without him being there. Laying the seed of doubt within Elsa's mind on what should have been a painful day for him when he was reminded of what he couldn't have, he'd set off the sparks that were quickly turning into a fire in Rome. As husband and wife, Hans and Elsa were loyal to their country, but the latter's wish for peace complicated the former's need to complete his duty. He was never going to be able to answer her truthfully. Determined to hold his ground, he didn't say anything at all, much to his detriment as he found out a second later.
"I am not staying here any longer!" Elsa shouted. "Our son needs his mother and I am going to him! When his father returns, he may see him!"
As soon as the words left her mouth, she was storming off past him, brushing him aside as her rage took over. Elsa didn't mean to use Leo as leverage, but so angered by Hans' deceitfulness when it came to giving her the true answer that she craved, he got what he deserved in her eyes. Tears were forming at the very same spot in her body, the thoughts of her husband being nothing more than a killer beginning to set in. She didn't want to be married to a man who could kill so easily without feeling any clear remorse, hiding behind the duty that he always reasoned for any actions that were questionable. Hans was crossing a line that she could not though, even if he was determined to convince her that James could not be trusted. In many ways the Englishman could not, but he was telling the truth on the matter that he'd carefully brought up in her presence.
"Elsa!" He called. "Come back here…".
Turning to follow her, Hans barely made it to their bedroom door in time, very nearly having it slam back into his face. It would have been deserving, Lyla thought to herself, but she was not completely naïve and knew Hans a lot better than the Lieutenant knew himself. Clearly torn between his love for his wife and his country, Lyla could tell that while something clearly had happened, he was either not a part of it or an unwilling participant. As much as Elsa may have suddenly convinced herself that her husband could have become a grotesque monster like Kurt, Lyla was not quite as easily swayed by his answers. With Kurt in the next room, it was clear he could not say what he really wanted to.
The Doctor himself reappeared a couple of moments later, after Lyla had moved over to the window to look out and check the weather. It was a relatively dry start to the morning, though the clouds were beginning to darken on the horizon.
"Younger people have no respect…". Kurt bemoaned Elsa's shouting, stroking his chin.
Keeping her cool was paramount, and being the incredible actress that she was, Lyla was able to but inside she felt the urge to hit him. She might not have been able to believe that Hans could be capable of committing an atrocity, but Kurt was more than capable. Knowing that he would never say anything to her about such a subject, even though he was always very open with his work, she knew that a direct question would not work. Instead, a careful approach would have to be used instead, which kept her true aims somewhat safe too.
"Elsa appears to be sure about what was said. I would not doubt her judgement, she has often proven to be correct in the past".
"I do not doubt that she is smart, Lyla". Kurt grumbled. "But she does not understand or… does not have the experience to understand that with war comes duties that are not easy to perform".
"Perhaps… but this Englishman has unnerved her like I have never seen before".
Kurt was fed up of James being believed, by Elsa first and with Lyla seemingly siding with the other woman, and did not want to hear any more about him. The young man was a thorn in his side at the worst of times, even when he'd held him in check with knowing about Erin. James still had his uses, the only reason Kurt kept him alive, though he was still no closer to working out who he truly was. The original purposes of taking over his detainment from Professor Molinari slipped ever further away.
"The English prisoner is the only murderer here. His actions have caused more deaths than Elsa could even contemplate. Hans and I have only done our duty".
"You allowed him to murder someone?" Lyla questioned, riling Kurt further.
"I… Lyla this is not a simple situation! I cannot tell you what has happened or why, but I do not expect you to question me!"
With Kurt verging on boiling over completely, Lyla had him exactly where she wanted him. For once she was not scared of what he might say or do, an air of confidence about her around him that was seldom seen. He wasn't at all suspicious of her line of questioning but was instead frustrated at her asking the questions. Playing the innocent card, she was playing him completely, with a clear idea of exactly where she wanted the conversation to go. Seemingly blind to her intentions, he fell directly into the trap she'd set for him.
"I am sorry Kurt, you know I will always support you… but I care for Hans and Elsa too. We cannot allow them to argue and be unhappy, can we?"
Sighing, he did not attempt to disagree with her at all.
"You are right, Lyla. I will apologise to Elsa and I will try to explain to her what has happened. She needs to know that the Englishman is responsible and has planted false seeds in her mind about what happened".
"As much as I believe she respects you, Kurt, might I make an alternate suggestion?" Lyla explained delicately, putting a hand on his arm.
"Yes… of course".
"Allow me to see what this Englishman has to say. If I can convince Elsa that he is a liar, then she will certainly listen to me".
It was not her intention at all, but Kurt did not need to know it. For some time she'd been looking for an excuse to properly confirm not only the prisoner's identity, but his condition too. For the amount of trouble that her compatriots back in London were going to for a Pilot, it was clear to her that he was significantly important. Curiosity drove her on rather her need to complete her duty, though she would be doing so by seeing him anyway. For Britain it would be a blessing in a way too, as she could provide other details of where he was being held, details that could help them free him from Kurt's deathly grasp and back to safer waters.
"A perfect idea". He nodded in agreement. "We shall arrange it immediately".
Kurt was completely unaware of her intentions, leaving Lyla to be very pleased with herself. What had started as an argument between the young married couple, ended with her and the country that she served in a better position. She was going to be able to confirm James Maguire's safety, not that she knew who he was or why he was so important.
What happened after that though, was out of her hands…
The streets of London were a familiar site for some members of the British Secret Service. Lieutenant Colonel Menzies and Captain Smithers were both used to having to walk through them at all times of the day, though rarely together. They were men that were in service to the country at a time of war, requiring them to be anywhere that their superiors told them to be, no matter what the hour or what else was going on in their own lives. For Smithers especially it could be a strain with a young son, though he was that used to having to do the journey from his home out in the countryside, that it was no longer that taxing.
Those same streets were a new playground for one of the newer members of the Intelligence branch. In the dark night of a Sunday evening, Charlene Kavanagh was a new addition to the British capital's streets, somewhere she'd never been before. She was told it was a short walk to the building that she needed to present herself at that evening, which was not a lie, though it would have been easier if someone would have accompanied her. She'd been given a map by the driver, so that she could traverse the streets, some of which were closed off that night, the car unable to take her all of the way. For the rest of the journey on foot she constantly looked around her in the new surroundings that she faced, which was proven to be an adequate tactic when she was approached by a gentleman who clearly wasn't a member of the Intelligence services. A street beggar or tramp of some ilk, she immediately assumed.
He'd addressed himself pleasantly enough, at least for a Londoner, but whilst his words may not have been threatening, his stance and the knife he produced a couple of seconds after were proof that his intentions were far from honourable. Sadly for him, he picked one of the worst women to attempt to do what he wished to, not that he realised that when she complied with his request to go down a nearby alleyway. Believing his luck was to be in, the knee to his groin and the punch to his face a few seconds later proved to him that he was wrong. When she held the knife to his throat, her foot firmly placed on his chest to keep him where he was, he thought a lot differently about the woman stood above him. Suddenly she was not quite the enticing prospect that she was a few moments before… she was utterly terrifying. Continuing on her way in the couple of minutes following the incident, she didn't run into any more trouble at all, the man she'd well and truly beaten in the alleyway deciding it was best not to attempt to follow her.
Before long, she'd arrived at the building she'd been told to present herself at, arriving on time too despite the distraction from the aggressive attacker. Greeted by a woman who introduced herself as the secretary, her coat was taken and hung up whilst a cup of tea was made for her. She sat for a couple of minutes once the tea was made, gently sipping it whilst it was still boiling hot, until the man she'd come to see presented himself. Smithers had made the journey much earlier in the day than she had, for a meeting of his own with Menzies, the two having to meet again following the aftermath of their prior meeting. Charlene was requested for immediately after then, when it became clear that she would be needed for the next part of their plan when it came to a certain young man that she knew.
"Miss Kavanagh…". Smithers greeted her. "… I trust that you had a safe journey".
"Captain Smithers". She greeted in return, with a slightly forced smile. "It was… eventful, but nothing that caused me a problem".
"Good. Follow me, we have a lot to discuss".
Choosing not to inform the Captain about the situation she'd found herself in a couple of streets away, Charlene avoided any difficulties. Smithers didn't need to know as she hadn't killed the man nor had the man harmed her other than shaking her slightly for a couple of seconds when she realised his intentions. The last thing that she wanted to do was have them searching the streets for a delinquent who'd probably be killed during the next bombing raid anyway. Smithers led her through to a room at the side, that was not marked as any particular room on the door that led to it. She'd spotted a couple of rooms further down that appeared to be for more particular uses, one which was clearly for the head of the branch, not that she knew who the man was. Her contact was always through Smithers, even though her father was acquainted with Menzies rather than his subordinate.
When she entered the room, it was clear that it was one of little importance too. If anything, it looked to be more like a room where a prisoner would be interrogated rather than one where a meeting would take place. A solitary table, fairly large but not covering the width of the room, was in the middle, completed with chairs either side. In the corner was a stand with a jug of water and a couple of glasses placed upon it, but other than that it was completely empty. Under his arm, Smithers was carrying a couple of documents, which were intended for her, his only contribution to the room. The young woman's presence was one he'd not been surprised about following the meeting days prior, reading his superior's mind when it came to the plan he would put in place. She was already involved to some degree too, though it was Emerald Two that was doing the majority of the work on the particular case in question, Charlene being busy with the Americans arrival. With the Yanks beginning to settle in and other members of the Intelligence services taking over from her, she was free for a mission of far greater importance, in which she would soon receive knowledge of equal height too.
Taking their seats at their sides of the table, Lotty followed in behind them a couple of seconds later to pour their drinks. She didn't have to at all, but Smithers appreciated the gesture as he'd forgotten to do so when he walked in. It allowed him to prepare his files for a moment, whilst Charlene studied the room around them, thanking Lotty for the drink once she'd prepared it. When the secretary closed the door to the room behind her, it was a cue for the meeting to start, doing so when the Captain cleared his throat.
"Miss Kavanagh, before we begin, I should ask, how is your father?"
"He's grand…". She replied, with a curve appearing at the edge of her lips. "… he's not so keen on fightin' again but if the Nazi's turn up here anytime soon then they'll have him to deal with, so they will".
Chuckling, Smithers could only imagine the sort of scenes the Nazi's would face if they ever dared to try to set foot in mainland Britain. A whole nation that would fight until the bitterest of ends if necessary, they would come up against some of the sternest of opponents that could so easily drive them back to where they'd came from. They were not going to invade easily at all, not when there were so many men like Charlene's father that were willing to fight back.
"What about you?" Charlene turned the question back on him. "How's Mrs Smithers, has she had the wee baby yet?"
Apart from the request he'd sent to her for her to visit London that Sunday, it was months since their last full correspondence. He'd visited Derry the summer before and spoken with her at length then, but apart from one other lengthy letter in which orders were detailed, he'd not spoken to her properly again. He'd revealed his wife's pregnancy to the young Irishwoman, not that she needed to know at all, but he trusted her with the information implicitly, given that she was in effect his agent. The information was hardly valuable either.
"Mrs Smithers is well and we have a son, James, who was born in December". Smithers replied cheerfully, thinking of his little boy.
"Ach congratulations". She nodded. "Aye I bet he's a right handsome little fella".
Smithers didn't blush, but a younger version of himself almost certainly would have done. Charlene was a stunningly attractive young woman who was implying that he and his wife must have been good looking to have created such a beautiful boy. His wife certainly was, but he felt himself smiling internally that a woman like Charlene would pay him such a compliment. Although there was the logical part of his mind that told him she was just saying what she would have said to anyone else about their child. That part of his brain told him not to make anymore of it, which was certainly the more sensible half that was closer to the truth.
"James definitely takes after his mother…". His own words jolted him back to reality. "And James is the reason that I have brought you here today".
Confused, Charlene was left frowning at why she would be needed for Smithers' son, especially in such a formal setting as what she assumed was the Intelligence Services headquarters. As much as she did not mind children at all and would happily look after the child if he was being evacuated to the countryside, hosting Mrs Smithers too at the family mansion, it seemed strange that he would ask her to go all the way to London to put forth such a simple request. Many mothers and young children had been evacuated out into the countryside, avoiding the death and destruction that followed for those that stayed. It was at least understandable that Smithers would not want his young son to be caught up in it, if the raids were to happen again in such scale as they had done previously.
"I… I've not much experience with children but I can look after him and Mrs Smithers if ye want…".
Chuckling, Smithers knew she would immediately jump to that conclusion, when it was nothing like that all. It was very different in fact, so far away from what Charlene realised that he knew she would be shocked to the core when he told her. She was not aware of the young man's survival, as they'd not seen fit to inform her any sooner, especially when the less people that knew about James, the better. His importance to Britain would not be bestowed upon her, but the fact that he was still alive would be. They needed her help.
"That's not the James that I mean". He told her dryly.
"I'm sorry… I don't…".
"James Maguire is who I have asked you here today to talk about".
"James Maguire?" Her brows furrowed once more. "But he's dead… has been for more than a year I think".
"No Charlene". Smithers abruptly cut her off. "James Maguire is alive".
Smithers' words hit her square in the face, the shock being apparent almost immediately. James Maguire was alive. Somehow, he was still amongst the land of the living, long after his apparent death leading the formation that was ultimately victorious at the Battle of Taranto. Quite how they knew he was became the first of many thoughts to break through into her mind, especially when she knew of the difficulties of communicating over a short distance, let alone with someone in a country thousands of miles away, which also happened to be a hostile nation too. The same young man that she'd once supplied Erin Quinn with information about was not deceased like she thought, and another thought that sprang to mind quickly was of her fellow blonde. She did not want to have to get close to the young woman that she held little time for again. It almost sent her crazy the last time…
"He's… Jesus…". She blasphemed.
"It was quite the revelation for me too at the time, Miss Kavanagh, but we have been able to keep an eye on him for a while now".
She was not as naïve as to realise that they would have agents in other countries, assuming when it came to James that the country was Italy, but to be able to monitor him was a surprise too. Presumably to her, he was being held captive at a prison camp somewhere by the Italians, who were oblivious to the monitoring that was being undertaken. Her field of experience in espionage work was not vast, but to be able to pull off such an operation required an agent of high skill. The only other agent that she'd worked with, Emerald Two back in Derry, was hardly a suitable person to provide such a role, which meant that the agent must have been one of their most formidable in her eyes. Knowing better than to ask, Charlene instead remained surprised at what she'd been told, as Smithers explained himself as to why she was needed after she'd nodded him on to continue. However, instead of speaking immediately, he pulled out a map of the Italian coastline in order to explain himself properly.
"James is being held captive just outside of Rome… here…". He pointed to a spot on the map that was now on the table in front of her. "We know that he has been treated poorly at times and his life hangs in the balance once more, thanks to our own people in Rome".
"Christ, it must be some brave soul who's risking themselves to get all this information". Charlene remarked, genuinely impressed.
"We have deployed our very best, I can assure you".
The way in which Smithers described the agent to Charlene, told her that he was not joking at all when he described them as their best. Lyla Walsh was known to her, though not of her role in the service and therefore she was not aware of just how courageous and talented the otherwise ordinary woman was.
"We intend to mount a rescue mission to bring James back to friendly waters, moving him out via this small port here…". He pointed to the map again, this time further down the coast from Rome. "… once we have him onboard a destroyer, he will return to Gibraltar".
"Right…". She replied slowly, taking in the information. "… but how can I help from back home?"
Sighing, Smithers was about to reveal their troubles when it came to James. He'd planned the meeting in his head for hours on end, yet when faced with the important crux of the task he almost couldn't face it. It wasn't that Charlene's orders were particularly difficult, or even hard to explain, but laying the story out in front of his eyes, made him think of how poor a situation that they, and the country as a whole, found themselves in. If James was another young man, then it would have been far different, but he was who he was, and it meant that all the resources they could utilise would have to be spent on getting him back. Charlene was the latest resource.
"There is a problem that we need to contain in Derry, the… traitor, shall we say". He put it across softly to her.
"Ach… right, now I understand…".
The cogs of Charlene's mind began to whirl round to reveal to herself what he wanted, which she quickly worked out. The majority of the work in monitoring the Nazi spy within Derry was done by Emerald Two, filling in for her as she welcomed the Americans properly. Being the younger of the two loyal agents to Britain, she was almost certainly going to be the one to take any physical action against the spy, which is what she believed that Smithers was insinuating. Although within the city it would be hard to conduct such an action without everyone knowing about it, no one knew that she was a spy other than Emerald Two, so the chance could be taken.
"So how does it need to be done? Like with Jenny or?" She enquired.
"No. We cannot risk killing the spy".
Shocked once more, but this time because she was wrong in her assumption, Charlene was stumped as to why they would not eliminate the spy if she was a threat to James. The other woman might not have been the stereotypical violent type, but if they needed to be dealt with for his safety then she should have been left to kill her. Instead, a pacifistic approach was being taken, one which she could scarcely understand when his life was at stake according to Captain Smithers.
"What?" Charlene blurted out without thinking.
"Miss Kavanagh, those responsible for holding James captive in Italy, have a direct line to this spy from what our friend there tells us. If they stop receiving communication, they may work out that we aware of how they are coming across certain pieces of information and we risk James' life further".
"What if they already know?" She challenged. "What difference does it make?"
"As far as we are aware, they do not believe that we are aware of the spy within Derry and for the time being, we wish to keep it that way".
A rare advantage that the Intelligence Service held over Doctor Van Der Heijden, it was under Menzies' orders that the spy was not assassinated. Smithers himself had originally thought the same way when they'd first discussed it following their meeting with the PM and the rest of those who knew about James, but the more experienced of the two knew to hold a solitary card in their favour, rather than act where they normally would.
"What do ye need me to do then?" A curious Charlene questioned once more.
"You can get… closer… than our mutual friend in Derry…". Smithers began to explain himself again. "… We need to know how they are contacting whoever it is that they are contacting and how frequently that they are doing it. The moment that we get hold of James, they are almost certainly going to know, but if we can keep them in check than there is little damage that they can do".
Understanding the smart approach that they were taking, Charlene's mission was very much clear. She knew too that she would be able to get far closer than Emerald Two could to the female spy, enabling her to find out all of the information that Smithers wanted a lot more easily than their fellow agent could. Keeping the spy within check, without alerting the Nazi's that they knew of their presence was the far more sensible idea over suddenly cutting the flow of the information without thinking of the potential consequences. James could easily be harmed depending on what they truly wanted from him, or even if he was just in a camp like she'd assumed that he was, and if the spy's death made his value to them less, then a killing could occur that was not wanted at all.
The thought that finally struck her after a few seconds more of contemplation, was the most crucial of all. Why? Why were the Intelligence Services going to such lengths to be rescue James. She'd found it strange before that his life appeared to have been monitored when she was giving information to Erin, but his quick rise through the ranks explained it to a certain degree. It was when she coupled all of the information, questioning why he did rise through the ranks that quickly, that she began to wonder why James was so important. Smithers hadn't mentioned it in conversation either, nor was it expressly spelled out to her on any other occasion. For a reason that she did not understand, the Englishman was important to them… and she wanted to know why. To her, he was just another man who happened to be a lot braver than most, an Englishman living in Derry.
"Why are ye doin' all this for James?"
If he wasn't a consummate professional, Smithers could have burst out laughing. Only a short time previously he was in her position, being withheld the truth about the young man's importance. The difference between the two was that there was not a scenario imaginable where she would be told why he was so important, Smithers only having to know because of how deeply he'd ended up being involved in the young man's life. Charlene would never have that level of involvement no matter how hard she tried, her value too great to have her bogged down with the knowledge that many loyal ministers already held and would take to their graves. The Captain was instead prepared to do what James found himself having to do on a regular basis to survive, though Smithers hardly found himself in the young man's circumstances.
He lied.
"His skills as a pilot are too valuable for us to risk, whether it be in death or if he was to defect to the enemy side. We must bring him home".
"Then I'll do what I must…". She replied quickly. "… but when the time comes, she needs to be dealt with ye know".
"When the time comes, Charlene, you will be involved… you have my word".
The time that Smithers spoke of was not one which could be guaranteed at all. The course of the entire war hinged on the successful recovery of the young Pilot from the hands of Doctor Van Der Heijden, the destinies of millions to be gambled upon one night.
One chance to bring the young man home.
They had to take it.
The mind was a fragile creature.
One which could be cared for delicately by the beholder yet in the same breath poisoned by one who could manipulate it for their own gain.
James' mind was no longer of his own to control, a painful thought he'd managed to have even when his brain seemed to be against him at all times. Kurt was now the man that was in charge of his brain, the master of the mind of a young man that was once considered a heroic pilot of the Fleet Air Arm. That reputation no longer existed to him, instead he was the accidental slaughterer of innocents thanks to the games of the Nazi Doctor that held him. The massacre that he'd caused by his own words was not one that he could have ever stopped, but if the cries of the innocents that died because of it that visited him in his sleep every night told him, it was a time that he would never forget. The children that were gunned down viciously because he happened to know how to tell the SS men how to open the doors… the images of their lifeless bodies, some limbless and all blood-soaked, would never quite leave him.
The couple of nights that followed were tough, the toughest of his life if he were to admit it to anyone. Combined across the two, he only slept for around three or four hours because of the cries of the dead that refused to leave him be. He would see all of their faces too, even though some of them he could only just make out from a distance. It didn't matter at what distance he'd stood that day though, he'd looked them all in the eye as he made his decision to ship the parents off to the camps and let the children return home. Neither group being able to after being gunned down by the men of the SS death squad, smashed his conscience to pieces. The bright, confident young gentleman was no longer the same man that he once was, the Nazi's having broken him mentally where they couldn't physically.
However, James Maguire could still fight even at his lowest and he'd told himself from the moment he'd finally found some sleep on the first night, that he would fight back against Kurt no matter what happened. The Doctor having the edge on him by threatening Erin's safety limited how far he could go, but to continually resist the Nazi's various forms of torture was all he had left. Staying strong for her and the thought of one day being back in Derry to resume the life that he wanted to with the young Quinn by his side, he wasn't going to go quietly, assuming his most likely destination was his grave. When Kurt thought to press his advantage in torturing James, by bringing Elsa and Leo along to see him hanging from the bar above his bed, the Nazi thought he was in control. The Englishman thought differently.
Hans' wife was most likely an honourable young woman who has blind to her husband's true evil, though when he'd thought about the events of the massacre, he couldn't be sure that Hans was willing to participate in it. With that aside though, the Lieutenant had still watched it unfold without doing anything to stop it, as well as torturing him repeatedly upon Kurt's orders. Knowing that the wife of the young officer would not be told of such crimes that he'd committed, he took it upon himself to inform her where others would not. Shellshocked by the sincerity of his comment, when he'd referred to Kurt and Hans as murderers, Elsa's upset was clear to him from where he hung on the bar, despite her not showing that many visual signs of discomfort. Her attention was naturally with her son, but behind her stoic mask hid the eyes of a woman unmoved, confirming to James that his plan was successful. It wasn't a habit of his to scare women and manipulate their feelings, but the young blonde German woman needed to know who her husband truly was, or at least the crimes he was involved in.
For every act that James committed against his captors though, there was always going to be retaliation. It came quicker than it usually did, the day after, but the moment he heard them coming for him he knew that his Sunday would turn out to be a painful one. Let out of his cell once again, he did not remember the journey to where he was at all, on account of the blow to the back of the head that Hans gave him so that he could not see where they were going. The Lieutenant was only following his orders though, Kurt having demanded that he do so in order for them to be able to move James properly without him attempting to break free. It allowed them to tie him up easier once he was in position in the new room that he would face torture in, the same position that he'd found himself in seconds earlier as he woke. Lifted off of the ground, his hands were tied to another bar that hung from the ceiling and his feet were tied to separate poles on either side of him, stretching his body out painfully.
"Ah, you are finally back with us, Captain Maguire". Kurt mocked him, speaking in German not English.
"My apologies, Doctor, I appear to have fallen asleep in your company". He played the game in return, hostilities beginning.
"I must be boring you, I am sorry James".
Ignoring the Doctor for a moment, James took a look at the room around him. Why Kurt needed him to be unconscious for the journey to it, he did not know, but he can't have been out for too long, indicating that they'd hadn't gone too far. If he were to guess, James thought that he was still on the same complex, perhaps even part of the same building. The room he was in was far better lit than his own room, though there was some logic behind that as it wasn't exactly a room that a prisoner would be held in, far from it. It was not a room for torture either though, which is why it was all the more peculiar to him that he'd been brought there. Little could be gained from him in the stifling heat of the room that they were in, nor was it particularly uncomfortable barring the increase in temperature. The room was well ventilated though, multiple barred windows being present in contrast to his room which only held one.
"What am I doing here, Doctor?" He questioned, reverting to English. "You have gone to a lot of effort to tickle my back again with that whip…".
"So defiant". Kurt shook his head, before taking a step towards him. "As much as I am sure Hans would love a second chance to rectify his mistake, we have something different planned for you today".
"I am so lucky to have such options".
Mocking Kurt once again, James tried to remain strong in the eyes of the man who tormented him, even though it grew harder to do so. With the threat to Erin being one that was in fact non-existent, but troublesome enough that he thought of it daily, he could only ever antagonise the Dutch-born Doctor so much. Knowing that his love for her was his weakness, Kurt would always target Erin when every other method failed because it would always achieve the desired outcome. The only way in which James would gain the upper hand would be in abandoning his love for her, to save himself… but he not only would not do it, he could not do it. He loved her enough to go through whatever the Nazi's were going to do to him.
The pain that Kurt planned again was truly horrifying.
Dominating the room not through a physical presence, given that he was less muscular than both James and Hans, Kurt's battleground was the mind where he was the master. As long as James was tied up and Hans followed his orders, he was the force to be reckoned with since the Englishman could always be brought under control with a threat against the young Irishwoman that he was in love with. The torture was going to wait, if it could be described as that for once. Physical harm would be inflicted upon the young man, that was for certain, but it was something more than torture. It would not be the mental anguish that he'd caused him by setting up the massacre, though that was clearly still fresh in the young man's mind. He'd noted the bags under the young man's eyes when they'd first entered his cell, which was just a building away, James correctly guessing that they hadn't left the compound at all.
"You are lucky that you have not been left to rot in a prison camp like many of your fellow Englishmen. I have saved you from the foul diseases of such places".
"For what?" James retorted. "The wretched stench of Nazi ideology that emanates from you and Lieutenant Hartmann".
Hearing his name without being able to understand the English words that came before it, Hans, stood behind James, ready to strike him. He didn't need to know the words to know that it was an insult that was being sent his way, and already angry with the Pilot, he was prepared to inflict as much harm on him as possible. A look from Kurt stopped him though, who could understand what was said, and was furious from the attack on the ideology that he believed in. James was nothing more than a murderer, even before the massacre, a killer of Italian soldiers and sailors thanks to his exploits in the Fleet Air Arm. To be accosted about believing in the Nazi way of life by a man who no longer held any semblance of honour, made him bitterly angry.
"The Jew killer wishes to taunt what we stand for… I cannot believe it…". Kurt snorted.
"I am not…".
"YES! YES YOU ARE!"
Kurt's bellowing roar filled the room, drowning out the sounds of a crackling fire behind the young Englishman. Angering Kurt left in him control of the room once more, not that he felt as if he was in charge whatsoever. The label of a killer of Jews was sticking to him when he did not wish for it to at all, a falsehood that was built on the deaths of those he could not save because of Kurt's deception. There was nothing he could have done yet the guilt stuck with him at every mention or every thought of the events of two days prior, and when he thought of it as often as he did, the guilt only increased further. As the Doctor visibly began to calm in front of him, James let out a sigh upon his internal realisation that he'd already done all that he could that day. He was only going to suffer from that moment onwards. The suffering was for Erin though, allowing him to do it gladly without another thought.
"Do you know James…". The calmer Kurt began, in German once more. "… this room once belonged to a blacksmith, before the war broke out and during the first couple of months".
A blacksmith.
The heat of the room could at least be explained if that was the case, although that only made James' stomach turn over. If the room truly was one belonging to a blacksmith, then the crackling of the fire behind him was not of an ordinary one, that much he knew. Being tortured in that way would almost certainly kill him…
"I am told that he was a fine craftsman until he mysteriously disappeared one night in Rome, with the rest of his family. A tragedy…".
"A conspiracy…". James huffed.
"Perhaps…". Kurt continued. "… the poor man left a legacy here but also his equipment, like the forge behind you that the soldiers have continued to stoke".
Confirmation that it was more than just a fire that was crackling behind him was found for James, only making him more worried about what was to come. The temperature of a Blacksmith's forge could reach to over one thousand degrees Celsius, not the sort of temperature which made human contact tempting unless it was to inflict great pain upon the human body. To be thrown into one would kill a human being, and as far as he knew, Kurt still required him to be alive. It was what he could do with the temperature that made James hesitant and perplexed, wondering to what extent he would be tortured by his captor.
"Great weapons can be made by forges, fine swords for the officers of years in the past. I could imagine myself with a finely crafted weapon from such a place… not that I would ever intend to use it of course". Kurt continued to monologue. "But of course, I am not here to show you how to make a sword or how to work a forge".
"I had guessed as much…". James responded dryly.
Retrieving a rod from where it was placed up against the wall, a steel one that must have been light, as Kurt was able to throw it over to Hans who caught it, the Nazi prowled the room. Powerless to stop the men from whatever it was that they were planning, James was only left with his thoughts on what they might be doing. Killing him was clearly not part of the plan, but he was not going to be able to give them any more information than they already had. He'd thought about his own importance since the massacre too, but as always, drew a blank when trying to think of any reason from his past that would necessitate the British Government wishing to retrieve him more than any other man. Pain was all that was left for him.
"I know that you will tell me no more…". Kurt began in German, before switching to English. "… no matter which language that I use. So instead, we shall just see how far we can push you again and perhaps this time you might remember something".
"You will get nothing from me!" James snarled back at him.
"I own you, James. I already have taken so much from you…".
"YOU DO NOT OWN ME! I am Captain James Maguire, Fl-".
"SHUT UP JAMES!" Kurt roared, cutting in to interrupt him. "I am not interested in your rank and title! All I want to see is for you to suffer. Those poor innocent Jews need to be avenged for what you did to them… not that the filthy pigs were innocent".
Kurt's hatred of the Jews sparked into life once more, though from behind James, Hans was reluctant to join even when he was so angry with the Englishman. The massacre was a step too far for his conscience that rarely saw the light of day, buried behind the shell of the obedient Lieutenant who served Kurt faultlessly. It was still there though, flickering away to remind him that what had happened two days prior was not something he ever wished to see again. Whilst Kurt could not see his young Lieutenant wincing, he could see the pain that it was causing the young man hanging from the bar in front of him, so he pushed on further. Just as he always did.
"You made Hans' morning terrible this morning as well…". Kurt reverted to German, so that Hans could understand what was being said. "His wife was very upset about what you said yesterday".
James regretted having to use Elsa to try stir up Hans' emotions, even more so when Kurt revealed that she was upset by his words. Unfortunately, they were in a war, and he was trying everything that he could to survive, making her acceptable collateral damage if it meant changing his own future for the better. If she could convince her husband not to follow the dark path of his mentor then Kurt would no longer have an able assistant to help with his despicable tortures. One wrong move and James knew he could easily outmuscle the Doctor, enabling him to escape providing that he could also deal with the Italian guards. As unlikely as it was, the most outlandish of thoughts told him that Hans could even become an ally if the right emotions were stirred. Sadly though, all he'd managed to do was anger the young Nazi even further.
"Lieutenant Hartmann's wife deserves to know the truth of what you have done". James raised his voice, making sure that Hans heard him.
To his credit, the young Nazi stayed calm, but beneath the surface he was ready to kill James if Kurt would allow him to, which he knew he would not. Elsa being discussed was annoying enough when Kurt happened to mention her, but angered more by the Englishman talking about her, he could combust at any moment. Holding the rod in his hand, which was gloved for protection, he dipped the end of the steel into the flames of the forge, the sizzling sound reverberating around the four walls of the room, bringing a smile to Kurt's face whilst unnerving James even further. The sparkling heat of the steel rod was only going to end up in one place. It also explained why that, when he was unconscious, they'd stripped him of his shirt too.
"Do you hear that, James?" In English again, Kurt taunted him. "I would have liked to have said that it was Hansi's anger, but I think you know what that sound was".
With nothing further to add, James did the sensible thing for once and kept his mouth firmly shut. He could not win, and physically he was about to lose, saving his breath for the screams that were surely imminent. Tough he might have been to withstand five hundred lashes, but no man would be able to withstand the pain of over one thousand degrees Celsius of molten steel being applied to his skin. In the wrong place it could kill a man instantly, but with a whole torso to choose from, the Lieutenant would hardly be spoiled for choice.
"You know, I heard a quote once when I was in London, about the best of men being forged in fire…". Chuckling, Kurt pulled up a seat, sitting down to watch proceedings from in front of James. "… but you are not a good man, James so what will become of you when you meet the flames?"
Once again there was no answer to be found from the young man in front of him, who simply stared back at his tormentor, waiting for pain to erupt across his back. Hans, pushing aside his previous thoughts of hesitation, was almost giggling as he brought the steel rod up in front of him, deciding on exactly where it would be placed first. The whole of James' back lay open before him, and that was where he decided to start, jabbing the captive man in the back with the searing hot rod that was freshly out of the fires of the forge. Skin dissolved under the pressure of such heat, though he applied it for only a fleeting second, so that he did not burn through to the bone and do more lasting damage. The time taken was more than long enough for James to need to scream.
"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Lighting up with amusement, Kurt's face painted the picture of the evil man that he truly was. Only a true sadist could take pleasure in watching a man face such extremes when it came to pain. Starting out as a complex case of a young man that was clearly far different from the rest of his countrymen, James became a problem to him from not breaking like he wished. At first, he hadn't needed him to break, The Führer not requiring an answer on the young man immediately. Over time though, the persistent frustration of watching the young Englishman fight back only wore away at Kurt more, incensing him to greater extremes the longer that he fought. Courage might have been a concession he was forced to make when it came to describing James, but it was equalised by the pain that the young man was having to endure. He could only take pleasure after all of the annoyances he'd been put through by the Englishman.
"Come on James, think!" Kurt admonished him. "You can stop all of this by thinking… think who you really are!"
"I…".
"I… uh… I…".
"I…".
James could no longer think straight, such was the pain in his back. Picking a spot right towards the centre, but slightly away from the spine, the rod that Hans placed onto his back had done more damage in half a second than the whip had in hours on the night of New Years Eve. His body reacted as it would do with the pain, his mind also reacting to the stimulus of agony that now existed towards the middle of his back. Concentration on giving a sensible answer was long when the agony was so great. Behind him, Hans could only smile that the young man was suffering, after the morning he'd been through with Elsa thanks to his words the day before. He was no killer at all when it came to the Jews, but even without knowing the full story, Elsa jumped to the conclusion that he'd done something awful. They'd not parted on particularly good terms either, though Lyla had attempted to help them reconcile which appeared to have done some good, if it did fail in actually reconciling them completely.
"Again, Hans". Kurt commanded his Lieutenant.
The freshly dipped flamed tip of the steel rod found its mark on James' body again, this time to the side by his ribs, where Hans had struck him with a hammer previously. The blows from the hammer were nothing compared to the heat of the rod when it pressed into his side.
"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Did that hurt James?"
Smugly grinning away to himself as he sat in front of the Englishman, Kurt retrieved a glass and poured himself some wine, which he'd brought along for the duration of the attack on James. A second glass was present, not that James could make it out, but it was not for Hans that it was poured a second later. Someone else would consume the contents of the glass, someone who's presence was yet to be introduced to the room. As he wriggled away in pain from the heat-induced agonies that his body was placed under, the bar shook from the sheer power of James' muscles, momentarily concerning Hans. The strength of the captive was well known to both he and Kurt, and the last thing that they wanted was for him to somehow break free.
Third and fourth burns soon followed, without a single word passing between any of them. Hans understood his duty for the day implicitly, Kurt having informed him whilst James was unconscious that he was allowed four strikes on the man before it was his mentor's turn to take over and deliver what was going to be the most devastating blow of all for James. The Doctor's ability to find further ways to degrade his prisoner was truly incredible, if completely evil, and another low was going to be sank to in order to achieve what he wished. He'd pushed James so far beyond his breaking point that it was no longer visible in the distance behind the young man. As his screams filled the air on both occasions where the burns were applied, he remained unaware of what was to come next, his mind a blur like his vision now was, the suffering taking over his entire body.
Moving from the chair he was sat on, Kurt returned to the side of the room to where he'd found the steel rod, retrieving a second one that was also leant up against the wall. Whilst James writhed away in agony, Hans walked around his hanging body, managing not to give into temptation and hit him, to join Kurt. The rod passed between the two men into the younger man's possession as he manoeuvred himself around to the side of James to stand in front of the forge. Safe in front of it as James could not move his legs, the second rod was dipped into flames like the first, but this time it was only the very tip that was. Applying gloves to his own hands like the Lieutenant, Kurt was prepared to receive the rod back a couple of moments later, with a familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.
"James… James, are you still with us?" He asked, in English.
"Y… Ye-sss". The Englishman wheezed out, in complete agony from the burns on his body.
Waiting until the English prisoner focused on him, Kurt then held up the rod in front of him so that James could see exactly what Kurt wanted him to. The rod was different to the first one, not just a lump of steel that was now molten at the end. Instead beneath the sizzling flame was a design, a design that symbolised everything that the Doctor stood for, and everything that he truly hated. A Swastika was engraved onto the end of the rod like a cattle prod, one which should have been used to brand a cow so that its owner knew it belonged to him. The Pilot was the farm animal and Kurt the farmer who owned him… it was time, in the Nazi's eyes, to make that a more visible ownership.
"Wh…". James started.
"I own you James, remember?" Kurt mocked him again, twirling the rod in his hands. "You need to be marked as property of the Empire that I serve".
In an instant James knew what was to come, and with all his strength he tried to break free of the knots that tied both his hands and legs. The action only made Kurt chortle as he watched the desperation of the young man who did not want to carry the symbol of Nazi Germany around with him on his body. He was going to have to though, because that was what Kurt wanted and he was not a man to be denied.
"But, first, I have someone for you to meet!". Kurt exclaimed loudly. "I trust that you will be on your best behaviour today?"
Grunting, James didn't produce words but rather sounds, such was his distress. He couldn't really care less who the visitor was that Kurt was going to introduce him to, far more focused on trying to cope with the severe pain that he was in instead. The Nazi was almost giddy with excitement though, which was not replicated on the face of his Lieutenant. Hans decided to remain emotionally neutral, knowing who the visitor was but taking no pleasure in them having to see what was being done, especially when they were so wise… and would tell his wife every single detail too, which held the potential to change how she thought about him.
"I promised my very own Irish woman that I would let her see you… let her see a weak Englishman that she could belittle…".
Gesturing for Hans to fetch her, Kurt was soon left alone with his prisoner, if only for a few seconds. He continued to talk though… or taunt as he thought of it in another way.
"You will like her James…". He chuckled, staring directly into the eyes of the Captain.
"She has the most wonderful… eyebrows".