Thank you, Marilyn!
Chapter Seventeen
Klaus lingered at the back of the group where he could observe everyone. Hermann paced along behind him, his usually relaxed stride stiff with tension. As they traveled deeper into the installation, Klaus found himself considering Rosstal. Arkel's assistant appeared to be little more than a lackey, yet Klaus did not trust that impression. Rosstal seemed too aware of everything around him. Several times, Klaus had caught Rosstal's small, dark eyes passing over the group of visiting dignitaries with a watchfulness that felt less like curiosity and more like distrust.
Klaus' attention was suddenly drawn to the hall ahead, to an unmarked door set in a slightly recessed alcove. A guard stood watch, his head turning toward them as the group approached. Instead of stopping as Klaus expected, Arkel led them past the alcove and on down the hall. Strange, Klaus thought, resisting the urge to look back as they moved away. Whatever lay beyond that door was important enough to post a guard, yet Arkel had not so much as glanced at it nor made any mention of it at all.
Not much further, the passage turned sharply and dead-ended with another door, watched over by yet another guard.
Arkel placed his palm against the steel door in an almost loving gesture. "The Allies may have temporarily stalled production, but they can not touch what is in this room."
Inside were stacks of wooden pallets containing rows of silver, bullet-shaped canisters, each approximately two feet tall by six inches in diameter. Each canister was topped by a red-painted valve and was girdled by a red and black stripe above the black swastika of the Third Reich.
"Our stockpile," Arkel said with undisguised satisfaction. "Death on demand. Just one of these canisters can kill hundreds of men. Two can turn a city the size of Berlin into a deserted wasteland. In time, canisters will be carried by rocket to anywhere we wish."
Klaus viewed the cavernous storage area with mounting horror. There appeared to be hundreds of canisters.
"At present, there is no antidote to this gas. Research continues on developing one, but to date, the results have not been promising."
Hochstetter started to pick up one of the canisters.
"Be careful!" Arkel said sharply, freezing Hochstetter in place. Arkel slowly exhaled. "No one is allowed to handle the gas without proper training. Make a mistake with one of these and we will be dead before there is time to realize it."
The color drained from Hochstetter's face and he hurriedly backed away from the canisters. Arkel glanced from the group of untrained people to the stockpile of gas. Paling, he walked with alacrity to the door.
"Let us move on."
The rest of the tour included three labs, where Arkel brought their attention to experiments that all looked exactly the same to Klaus' eyes. The scientists ignored the invasion of visitors and stayed hunched over test tubes, beakers and papers. Klaus wondered if the dedication was genuine or driven by fear of punishment.
When the tour entered the largest of the three labs, Arkel abruptly turned to face them. "The photographs gave proof of the gas' effectiveness. But only by witnessing the process first-hand can you truly appreciate what we have created. If you will follow me, we have a special demonstration planned for you."
Klaus' bones turned to ice. At the very edge of his field of vision, Hermann went completely still. Neither of them moved as the group continued onward.
Arkel and Rosstal went to a green curtain hanging at the farthest end of the room. Arkel's skeletal fingers grasped the pull cord. With exaggerated drama and a smile dreadful to see, he swept the curtain aside.
The curtain had concealed a wire-meshed window that went nearly to the floor. Beyond the glass was a cell bare of furniture. Inside, were an old woman, a young man, and a crippled boy. The boy and woman looked toward the window and their faces went stark with fear and dread. The young man didn't react at first, which puzzled Klaus until the man's head turned. His milky white eyes stared blindly toward the glass and his face twisted with hate. Klaus could only imagine that some sense had alerted him to their presence. Blind but not immobile, the young man shakily picked himself off the floor and leaped at the window. His shouts of defiance were muffled by the barrier and his fists thudded dully against the glass. The old woman's head dropped, but not before Klaus saw tears drip down her lined cheeks. The boy, too, began to cry and burrowed his face into the woman's side. All three obviously knew what was about to happen. Klaus' heart pounded wildly in his chest and he glanced sidelong at Hermann.
The scientists were still intent upon their work. The assembled group of officers had their full attention upon the cell. Hochstetter had bulled his way to the front and stood close to the glass. He wore a rapacious smile as he awaited the release of the gas into the cell.
Klaus and Hermann slowly walked forward to join the group again. Hermann gradually dropped back.
Each of the tables in the lab contained large numbers of beakers simmering and bubbling over Bunsen burners. Hermann glanced from the group of officials to the scientists, saw that no one was looking in his direction. Edging to the table on his left, he quickly raised the flames of every burner within reach. Another glance around and he casually slid toward the table on his right, as if angling to get a better view. He deftly twisted the toggles on several more burners. Still unobserved, he moved the length of the table, doing the same to the rest of the burners. Unable to reach more without being obvious, he rejoined Klaus. Their eyes locked and they shared a brief moment of frustration at being unable to act more decisively.
Klaus licked his lips, his thoughts whirling madly. They had no way of knowing how the various liquids in the beakers would react to the sudden increase in temperature. Whatever the reaction, he prayed it would be soon. Arkel's dramatic build-up to the murder of three more innocent people was drawing to a close. Even now, Rosstal was reaching for a lever in the wall that apparently controlled the release of the gas.
"And now . . ." Arkel's face twisted with a sickly grin of anticipation.
Frantically, not having the slightest idea what he was about to say or do, Klaus lurched forward. At that same moment, from behind him, came a staccato succession of loud, hissing pops, shattering glass, and a single, sharp blast.
The room erupted in pandemonium. A heavy weight hit Klaus from behind. Voices shouted and men pushed and shoved at each other in blind panic. A table somewhere fell over with a loud crash and more glass shattered. Klaus felt a sting in one cheek and absently brushed away blood. The weight on his back shifted and fell away. Blinking and coughing against acrid smoke, he shoved to his hands and knees.
"This way!" Hermann shouted in his ear. Hands grasped him underneath the arms and lifted him to his feet. He had a fleeting impression of flames and blue-tinged smoke before Hermann guided him through the wreckage and out of the room. They stumbled down smoke-filled halls, following the sound of running feet. Upon reaching clearer air, Klaus saw through burning eyes that they were back at the conference room.
"Von Rogner!" Huber pushed through the crowd. Smudges of soot marred his face, his uniform had been torn in several places, and his cap looked partially trampled. "Are you injured?"
"I'm not . . . certain." Klaus coughed, his eyes still tearing badly from the smoke. He finally managed a full breath. "What happened?"
Huber started to answer, but had to catch his balance when Hochstetter shoved his way forward. The Gestapo officer looked apoplectic with rage.
"These imbeciles nearly killed us with their incompetence!" Hochstetter whirled toward Arkel. The emaciated scientist stood off to one side, his formerly pristine white lab coat now ruined by soot and rips, his wispy hair standing out from his head.
Klaus faked a coughing fit, took a quick look around the room. Rosstal was nowhere in sight.
"That was . . ." Arkel faltered and his gaze turned in the direction of the lab. He slowly shook his head, his voice wavering with confusion. "I can not understand what could have happened. Our safety record has always been exemplary. Not a single accident in all the time -- "
"PAH!" Hochstetter hitched himself to his full height. "The Führer will hear of this!"
Arkel's attention shifted to Hochstetter and his expression turned shrewd. "The Führer cares only for results, Herr Major, which we have produced. What happened here was unfortunate -- "
"This negligence will be reported and you will personally be held accountable!" Hochstetter brushed ineffectually at the damage to the front of his uniform, then let out a snarled curse. Carefully, he plucked a shard of glass from his thumb and jammed the wounded digit into his mouth. Klaus had an absurd urge to laugh. Hochstetter resembled a child in the midst of a temper tantrum.
"No one was seriously injured here," Arkel protested stridently.
Hochstetter jerked his bloodied thumb from his mouth. His black eyes bored into the scientist with murderous hatred.
Arkel might become the first, Klaus thought, discreetly taking peeks around the room for Rosstal. The assistant was still unaccounted for.
Hermann drew even with Klaus, one hand still supporting him by the elbow. "Herr Major, the field marshal is in need of medical attention."
Hochstetter's advance upon Arkel halted mid-stride and he turned toward them instead. His gaze raked over Klaus, who had a good idea that he and Hermann looked much worse than the others since they had been closest to the "accident". In fact, he realized with growing concern, Hermann had probably taken the brunt of the explosions.
Providentially, blood from the cut on Klaus' cheek chose that moment to drip down his jaw onto his neck. Hermann offered up a handkerchief. Klaus dabbed at the cut and grimaced, feigning more pain than the cut warranted.
"I wish to leave."
The sentiment was echoed by the other officers, who had been paying close attention to the confrontation between Arkel and Hochstetter. Mussed, bearing numerous cuts and unhappy with the turn events, Hitler's elite clustered about the room mumbling amongst themselves like sullen children.
Huber sighed as he inspected a large tear in the sleeve of his jacket. "I've seen more action tonight than in the past week." His gaze rose to Hochstetter and his expression grew stern. "This evening is at an end. I'm tired, hungry and in a thoroughly bad mood."
Arkel balled his hands upon his bony hips. "There is no reason for you to stay now anyway. The demonstration must wait until this mess is cleaned up, which in all likelihood will take until tomorrow evening." Malice distorted his sharp features. "Our three guests certainly won't mind the delay."
Hochstetter let out an angry squawk. "I'm to be in Berlin tomorrow!"
The information perked Klaus up considerably.
Huber paused in the act of trying to re-shape his cap. "Then by all means, go," he stated matter-of-factly.
Hochstetter's jaw flexed and his hands knotted at his sides.
Klaus brushed carefully at his uniform. "You might want to leave soon, Major. It is a long trip."
"It sounds," Hochstetter snarled, black eyes slitting. "As if you are in a hurry to be rid of me, Herr Field Marshal."
"I know that I am," Huber snapped.
Klaus sighed inwardly. Time for von Rogner to develop some bite. He is, after all, superior in rank to Hochstetter.
He pulled out of Hermann's grip. "Your paranoia grows tiresome, Hochstetter. It is well into the night and I, for one, do not intend to spend the rest of it standing here while you attempt to throw your weight around." Still in von Rogner's mild voice, he said firmly, "Now get out of my way. Or your business in Berlin will include more than a report to the Führer of Doktor Arkel's success." He met the fury in the Gestapo officer's gaze with complete calm.
Field Marshal Zimmerman, another of von Rogner acquaintances, left the crowd and walked over to them. His white hair was slightly singed and one of his shoulder boards dangled by mere threads. He regarded Hochstetter coldly. "Have a car for me at the entrance, Hochstetter." With that, he turned and led a parade of officers from the room. Hochstetter was left in their wake, beside himself with impotent rage at being reduced to a mere car valet.
To be continued . . .