A/N: as always, thank you for your reviews. I understand it's all rather AU and Maria is very OOC right now - she's contradicting herself, she's affiliating with Nazis, she's keeping quiet - but that's kind of the whole point in this story. It will all become clear, I promise. I hope you enjoy this update, those of you who are still with me.
CHAPTER SEVEN: THE PLANS
After drinking more than was deemed socially acceptable and having to be escorted back to his hotel room by a fuming impresario, Georg had left The Goldener vowing furiously that he'd never cross Landa's threshold again - at least not without murderous intent. Of course, it was impossible to keep such a promise because the colonel's dinner invitation still hung in the air like the smell of rotting flesh. And he had every intention of attending, not least because he wanted to save face, but also because he was absolutely convinced that something absurd was going on under his very nose.
He simply refused to believe that Maria was acting of her own free will! From the earliest days of their acquaintance, she'd been a spitfire, defiant in the face of even the most basic household rules - and yet he'd never once questioned the integrity of her character. Young and naive in many ways and yet incredibly wise in others, she'd taught him more than just a thing or two about his own shortcomings, not just as a father, but as a person blinded by grief. It had taken him no more than a few weeks to realise she was probably the kindest, warmest, purest individual to ever cross his path - but that she was also a woman of fierce and unshakeable principles, a woman who was not so easily influenced. To envisage a person so gentle and simultaneously headstrong in the arms of a Nazi colonel not only made him want to retch, it seemed entirely incomprehensible.
Even if he hadn't felt compelled to get to the bottom of the suspicious circumstances, his pride still would've forced him to attend the colonel's godforsaken dinner anyhow. Intimidation was not something Georg von Trapp was used to - and he wasn't about to let a Nazi rat make an example of him. With decades of military training and with subsequent years spent as a highly-respected naval commander, he was more than accustomed to having his every will fulfilled without question - not just by his own crewmen but, more often than not, by the enemy as well. The colonel however, was no ordinary enemy. And this was no ordinary attack. This time, it was personal.
Never before had Georg's professional life collided so drastically with his private affairs. During his long stints out at sea fighting for his country, his approach to the enemy had always been born out of logic and strategy - emotion had never had anything to do with it. Agathe and the children had remained at home, safely ensconced in the villa in which he'd left them. And he had always returned home safe in the knowledge that he'd be welcomed with open arms, reunited with his family until the day he'd be summoned on the next mission once again. Now however, it was impossible to separate the logic from the emotion. For the first time in his life, the enemy was in his backyard, the weapon of choice was his soon-to-be ex-wife, and every tongue in Salzburg was flapping at his expense.
The Goldener somehow seemed less striking when he arrived there for the second time in less than a fortnight. But then again, this repeat visit didn't smack of tuxedos, ball gowns, digestifs, or clouds of sickly perfume. If anything, the place seemed underwhelming now that it reeked of betrayal instead. Leaving his coat with the bellboy, he made his way to the hotel's lounge, which - of course - had been privately hired just for the occasion. It had once been his favourite place to unwind after a long day of conducting business in town - and Maria had loved it too, mostly for the relaxing ambience, the friendly staff and - perhaps most importantly - the majestic grand piano that sat in the far corner of the room. On the odd occasion that the lounge was empty, he'd let his fingers toy with ivory keys until Maria's face had positively lit up.
Now, when he crossed the threshold still lost in painful memories, all he could see was Nazis. Nazis infecting every corner of the room with their cigar smoke, tumblers of whiskey, harsh dialect and threatening uniforms. The grand piano was still in its rightful place, but it lay forgotten under a sheet - and he fought the urge to storm across the room, rip the offending fabric from the instrument and play an Austrian folk song as enthusiastically as his tired fingers would allow. Enough food to satisfy a small army covered the length of the table - meats of every kind, cheeses, bread, vegetables, potatoes - and this was just the appetiser. Despite the ridiculous amount of treats on display, no one was sat at the table yet, choosing instead to take comfort in the opulent sofas and armchairs that lined the rest of the room, barking and snarling and growling amongst themselves like wolves at a tea party.
Casting a watchful eye about the room, he didn't see many faces that he actually recognised. There was Landa of course. Then was Zeller - and another man he'd met at the party who went by the name of Muller. There was his associate Fischer - then Schneider, Wagner and Hermann - all of them renowned members of the Austrian National Socialist Party, men Georg normally avoided at all costs. And among the wolves was sat... Georg did a double take, his eyes widening. It was none other than Maximilian Detweiler.
"Ah Captain!" Landa spotted him lurking in the doorway, spreading his arms wide in welcome, "so glad you could make it!"
At the mention of Georg's formal designation, the impresario's head snapped to attention and their eyes locked instantaneously. Rather than looking sheepish however - as Georg might've expected him to after having been caught in the middle of a Nazi rendezvous - Max simply rolled his eyes, as though Georg's untimely arrival was about to cause him unimaginable inconvenience.
"Come, come!" Landa beckoned, leading him into the group and planting a tumbler firmly in his fist as he made the necessary introductions. For a man who'd so scathingly referred to his Austrian guests as sheep not one week ago, he played the part of charming host remarkably well. Before long however, it became painfully obvious to Georg that the colonel had invited him to this circus not to form an allegiance, but purely to taunt him - just as he'd suspected.
"How do we know each other?" Landa grinned wolfishly when somebody asked, "Well, let's just say I came across a possession of his that I'm yet to return!"
When another guest asked about their home towns...
"Do we hail from the same parts? No, no. Though we do share the same tastes!"
And when somebody pledged allegiance to the Swastika..
"A Reich without allies is simply obsolete. Much like a sea Captain without a navy..."
Such provocation continued throughout the evening, until Georg rather felt like using his tumbler to knock the gleaming teeth from the colonel's smug grin. But he held his tongue firmly, using all the willpower he possessed to keep his seething anger in check. It wouldn't do to forget the role he'd assigned himself for the evening - he was supposed to be convincing Landa that he was a man of vision, a supporter of the Anschluss, a man seriously considering a career in Hitler's Kriegsmarine despite having been jilted by his wife in favour of an SS colonel.
To his immense relief, when they all sat down to eat there was just enough people seated around the table to provide a much-needed buffer between himself and Landa. In any event, he was occupied with more important matters - namely, the question of what, exactly, Max Detweiler was doing there.
"Let me guess..." He hissed sardonically through the side of his mouth at the impresario, seated to his left, "John sent you."
"And let me guess," Max retorted under his breath, poking at his steak with a fork, "you sent yourself!"
"So what if I did?"
"If John wanted you here," the impresario pointed out, "he would've sent you."
Georg scoffed, "Why he sent you is beyond even my comprehension!"
"You're in no fit state to be trusted, given the circumstan-"
"No fit state?!" Georg spat, "I'm absolutely fine."
"Apart from the drinking and the jealousy and the estranged wife who just so happens to be romantically involved with-"
"Okay okay!" Georg gritted, "You've made your point!"
"Just stop meddling," Max warned, "You're getting in the way."
Georg frowned in confusion.
"Getting in the way of wha-"
But the rest of his sentence was lost to a yelp of pain as Max stabbed his fork sharply into the centre of Georg's hand in a bid to silence him. Ripping his head up in confrontation, Georg opened his mouth to yell a series of obscenities at the impresario, but the words caught in his throat when he realised that Landa was watching their altercation from across the table, eyes narrowed in curious amusement.
"Err.. we were just discussing the day we met," Georg lied through his teeth, nursing his sore hand, "Many years ago at the-"
"-Royal Naval Academy in Fiume, yes I know," Landa interjected with a smirk, "a rather archaic institution nowadays of course.."
Affronted, Georg scowled, opening his mouth to retort - but Max beat him to it.
"Best and worst days of my life, serving in the armed forces!" the impresario declared jovially, in an obvious attempt to ease the mounting tension, "best for adventure, worst for labour!"
"Well it takes discipline, determination and thick skin," the moustachioed man named Fischer bristled, evidently implying that Max possessed none of these attributes.
"Right you are!" the impresario beamed, oblivious to the barb, "And the Austro-Hungarian navy consisted of some of the most determined, disciplined, thick-skinned young men in the entire world. Why, just look at the captain here - " he clapped a hand onto Georg's shoulder and Georg immediately stiffened, "decorated by the Emperor on more than one occasion for bravery in combat!"
"How... impressive," Landa drawled, his own medals gleaming under the light of the chandelier, "when the Anschluss occurs, I'll see to it that you're called straight to Bremerhaven, Captain."
"What an honour!" Muller chorused, to the general agreement of the rest of the room.
Having heard quite enough, Georg pushed his chair back with a deafening scrape, rising from his seat before he even knew he was moving.
"Forgive me," he gritted, throwing his serviette onto his chair, "I need to make a quick phone call to uh... enquire after my children."
"Ah yes," Landa purred to the rest of the table, "there are seven of the little dears, would you believe!"
Georg didn't stay long enough to hear the customary reaction - "seven?!" - before he stormed from the room, anger churning like cement in his stomach. It was incredibly unsettling, to have a man who remained so successfully off-grid knowing every little detail about him and his family. And what of John Whitehead and his incessant need to keep his son-in-law in the dark? Now that he'd stepped away from the cognac for long enough to think, it was becoming painfully obvious to Georg that there was no such thing as a coincidence where Hans Landa was concerned. Everything had to be linked somehow - Max, Maria, Landa, John.
John...
But John wouldn't... would he? Georg's head swam with the possibilities, and suddenly it was difficult to draw breath. Marching through the lobby with every intention of finding himself another drink to ease his frayed nerves, he halted in his tracks beside the reception desk, spotting the line of room keys hanging innocently from their assigned pegs. Almost immediately, an idea sparked to life like scorched kindling in his mind. Could he...? It was possible... it wouldn't take him longer than five minutes. Surely he wouldn't be missed...
Making a snap decision, he darted behind the desk while the clerk was busy attending to a new arrival, snatching up the key to the executive suite. It was a long shot - he had no idea which room was Landa's - but he'd wager a man who held himself in such high esteem would opt for the best accommodation available. Taking the stairs two at a time and slipping into the suite undetected, it didn't take him long to confirm that his assumptions had been correct. The uniform cap with the Totenkopf skull emblem resting atop the bedside table left very little room for doubt.
Knowing he had precious little time, he set to work - pulling open drawers, turning over cushions, feeling behind book shelves for anything that might be of use to him - until finally, he came across a leather binder marked with the revolting imprint of the Swastika. Tearing the artefact open, he discovered a series of complex floor plans - documents he couldn't make any sense of at first. After further scrutiny however, he suspected that they might be prison blueprints. It wasn't entirely clear - but what made him take pause was the little note scrawled in spidery handwriting at the top of the document.
"The Final Solution" it read.
And then, with a scribbled arrow and a suggestion pointing to one of the larger plots on the map-
"Carbon monoxide?"
An uneasy tightening curdled Georg's stomach. Taking a closer look, he saw that a different geographical location marked each document and written in every left corner was an associated number - which he imagined was a headcount. Whatever these plans were, they were twisted and sinister and corrupt in a way that seemed to sap all life from the room. They spoke of untold misery, decay, death and destruction - even while they were little more than mysterious sketches on crisp parchment. Moving quickly, he yanked the handkerchief from his breast pocket and traced a rough outline of one of the plans using a pencil from Landa's desk, before pocketing the fabric again.
Within two minutes he'd managed to return the documents to their hiding place, leaving the door locked behind him as he stalked - quick as a cat - back to the safety of the elevator. As soon as he started his descent back to the lobby, he heaved a sigh of relief - only to abruptly choke on it again when the doors slid open on the ground floor to reveal-
"Maria?!"
His wife let out a shriek of alarm - clearly not expecting to find her estranged husband on the other side of the threshold.
"Shhh!" He hissed frantically, grabbing her wrist in a panic and pulling her into the elevator before she gave him away.
"What are you doing here?!" She demanded, as the elevator doors slotted closed behind them.
"No, no, no!" came his petulant retort, "What are you doing here?!"
"I'm waiting for Hans!"
"Waiting for him where?" Georg demanded, dread coiling around his heart like poison ivy, "in his suite?"
Her eyes narrowed at the obvious insinuation, "That's none of your-"
"Business. I know," he spat.
"Good! I'm glad you finally-"
Quite without warning, the elevator gave a jubilant ding and the doors slid open to reveal an elderly couple on the third floor who began to shuffle their way into-
"Out of order!" Georg declared, jabbing his thumb into the closure button until the doors slammed shut and they were alone once again.
"Well that was rude!" Maria chastised, but Georg wasn't listening.
"There's no time for that. Not now," he griped impatiently, "I really need to talk to you about-"
But before he could finish his sentence the elevator dinged once again and they found themselves back on the ground floor. As soon as the doors opened, Maria wasted no time in putting some distance between them, flouncing out into the lobby with her head held high in defiance. Livid, Georg hurtled after her - only to slow his pace when he noticed Landa's cronies, Fischer and Müller, lurking by the bar.
"Maria, wait!" He hissed, managing to pull her back just in time, "I'm coming to the villa first thing tomorrow morning," he warned, "we can talk then.."
She gave a roll of her eyes, though her distress was obvious, "Georg, you really need to just leave me be..."
"Maria, please - just trust me on this one," he gritted, all too aware of Fischer and Muller's proximity, "there's no time to explain now. But there's something important I need to tell you."
A/N: a couple of lines from the dinner party scene were taken from my other story 'Water Under the Bridge'. Next update to follow soon!