Chapter Eight


With the recent air raids in Berlin, I was now conducting most of my business within my very own home. SS officers and Armaments Inspectorate employees came by on a daily basis. The house constantly buzzed with activity. And Meg and Genia served them all with the same adopted attitude of servitude.

Besides my accountant, my secretary, Majole Gethe, shared office space in my house. She was a supportive nationalist and unfailing Nazi in all aspects of her life. She had a tendency to eavesdrop, hoping to catch a double agent or some piece of gossip. I found it hard to bear with her at times because of this. But she was the only one who knew how to properly run my business, so I tried to leave her alone as much as possible.


I was at a Christmas party at Untersturmfuhrer Schendel's house. The conversation drifted from topic to topic, until Schendel mentioned the near-escape of a mouse in Buchenwald, the camp he oversaw.

"This one particular mouse keeps trying the most outrageous escape attempts," Schendel said, laughing. "Once he dug from his barracks to about 200 yards from the perimeter fence, but one of the other mice in the same barracks reported him!" Everyone laughed.

Haupsturmfuhrer (captain) Rymer said, "There is no loyalty among these people. Even their own kind turn against them."

"What else has he done?" one of the young women asked Schendel.

"He once found a blind spot where the guards in the perimeter towers would not see him, and dug his way under the barbed wire. He was gone for almost 5 hours that time."

"This is exactly why they need to be locked up; they're getting too smart for their own good," the woman said.

Everyone nodded in acknowledgement.

Too smart, I thought.


I was led to a cold and dank concrete prison. A guard opened the door and let me inside.

The room was dimly lit from the winter afternoon light. Basil had just gotten to his feet. He was much thinner than I remembered him, but he still had a look of determination in his eyes. He was still willing to fight.

His eyes grew wide, and the old hatred flared in them. "Ratigan," he said with contempt.

"Well, well, well. I had hardly expected you to be in these labor camps for so long. Having trouble escaping, old boy?" I grinned broadly.

"Oh, it will work Ratigan. I will get out. And when I do, the first thing I am going to do is bring you to justice."

"Is that so?" I laughed. "Look around you, Basil. This isn't Britain. I have much influence over here. Only you will be hailed as the criminal, not I."

"How long will the charade last, Ratigan? Face the reality of the situation. Germany has too many fronts: the Atlantic, Africa, and Russia. It is only a matter of time until one or all of these falls. And then you will have to abandon the dreams of this regime."

He did have a point. Probably the worst thing, strategically, that the Fuhrer could have done was give up on Britain before they surrendered. Then those damned Japanese had to get those damned Americans into the war. But it was not lost yet for either side.

"Russia has practically already fallen, the Atlantic is impenetrable, and Africa is going very well for our army. Your hope of one of the fronts falling is mere fantasy, Basil."

I did not know it at the time, but Basil saw that I had a point too.

We stood in silence for a few moments.

"So this is where the most infamous criminal in the world comes, to this den of thieves and murderers," Basil said. "Really Ratigan, I would not have expected even you to sink that low."

"That's the beauty of it," I said. "I am not participating in all of this 'ethnic cleansing' that the government is supporting. They give themselves more work, the war goes on, and I get rich. And you are left in this... this hole, to rot!"

"Doesn't it bother your already twisted mind that so many innocent people are being tortured and killed every day?" Basil asked.

"It's not my problem," I shrugged. "But it is yours, because you would not be here if it wasn't for their fear of Communists."

Basil let out a cold laugh. "I wonder who got me arrested for that in the first place," he said sarcastically. "I would not have been too surprised if it had just been me, but Dawson too?" He started to chuckle to himself, as if the idea was very funny. It was not characteristic of him to laugh at a grim situation like that. I wondered if he was going crazy. After he had finished, he continued, "Why him too?"

"He's associated with you. Isn't that enough of a reason?" I said, grinning again.

"You are the most depraved, corrupt, immoral, despicable scoundrel."

"And what are you going to do about it?" I sneered. "Checkmate, Basil. I win. I am not the one stuck in this camp, not the one who will get killed. You only have one more shot at escaping before they kill you."

"Funny, that's what they told me the last time I attempted an escape. And I tried another, and look..." he motioned to the cell. "I'm here, alive."

"That was because you did not actually escape the last time. They caught you before you managed it" Basil shook his head. I continued, "Face it, Basil. I have all the cards in my hands. I could order them to kill you in the blink of an eye, Dawson too. Your days are numbered."

Basil grinned. "They why haven't you ordered them to kill me yet?"

"Because I want you to suffer so much that you beg for death to come."

"Impossible," he said.

"Welcome to hell, Basil. It can only get worse."

"How?"

"You're being transferred to Bergen-Belsen. They're turning it into a death camp."

"How can I suffer if I am to be killed there?"

"You will not die immediately, Basil. You will find a way to stay alive, for a while. Then, after you experience hell... you will die."

"One of these days, Ratigan. One of these days..."

"Tough luck, old boy," I smiled wickedly. I turned to leave. Just then Basil jumped on my back and began to strangle me. I tried to get him off of me, but I could barely get enough air for the strength. Finally some guards ran in and pulled him off of me, beating him.

As we left the cell one of them said to me, "Don't worry, Herr Ratigan. We will make sure that he has an appointment with the gallows."

"No, leave him alive... for the time being," I said, looking in at Basil, who was smiling as if he was possessed. "He'll meet his end soon enough. Oh, and Basil," I added, grinning broadly. "Fraulein Sarentis regrets that she could not be here today."

Basil looked confused. He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. I pulled out a photo from my pocket and threw it into the cell. "She came to Germany looking for you, and ended up in Auschwitz. She's now working as my maid. Funny old world, isn't it?"

Basil was looking at the picture. He seemed speechless. Finally he said, "You are the most depraved creature ever to be born."

"Too bad for you," I said, walking away.

"Watch your back, Ratigan, because I will kill you," he called out.

"Have fun at Bergen-Belsen," I shot back.

The encounter left me with the feeling that I did not know my nemesis as well as I thought. Basil had never taken to foolish fantasies before. His belief that he would kill me was a fantasy. I was invincible.


Sorry, nothing really "Great Escape"-worthy about Basil's situation. I really do love that movie; I just can't use it in relation to a Nazi concentration camp. Besides, I forget half of what went on in the movie because I have not seen it in two years.