It had taken Carter less than ten minutes in the records repository to decide that this had been a big mistake, and only two minutes longer to start wishing he'd brought along a couple of incendiaries, just to liven things up.
Pintz, as it turned out, was not only a creep. He was also a dead bore when it came to explaining his administrative procedures. Carter was maintaining character, and even managing to look as if he were listening, but what the phony general was actually thinking about was how many different ways he could send this whole building sky-high, if only he were allowed. Nevertheless, he stuck it out gamely, determined for Sabine's sake to allow Newkirk and Hartnell as much time as they needed.
Meanwhile Hogan amused himself, whenever he got the chance, by removing files at random from the rows of metal shelving and re-inserting them in wrong places, but it was more a gesture than anything; he was pretty sure nobody ever came looking for any of these dossiers. He was surprised, and a little disturbed, at how extensive the repository was. They'd processed a hell of a lot of recruits through here, for a place the size of Hammelburg.
It was oppressively hot in the basement, and the electric lights were insufficient to dispel the prevailing gloom, and the composite smell of old paper and dust had an unwholesome effect.
There was a limit to how long they could keep Pintz down here, but somehow Carter managed to stretch it to a mind-numbing forty-eight minutes, before his own endurance began to fail. He came to a halt, straightened his gloves, brushed an imagined speck of dirt from his lapel, and turned to Hogan. "Hans," he said, looking pensive, "I have a very warm feeling about this place."
"I'm sorry, Herr General," stammered Pintz. "It's the way the building was constructed, there's no ventilation."
Carter had started shaking his head, slowly. "No, Pintz. When I say 'warm', I mean...Forgive me, I just get sentimental sometimes. Your archival system...it reminds me of home, and my dear Mamma." He looked around, with a wistful smile. "She would have loved to see it," he added.
"Remarkable woman," Hogan murmured in Pintz's ear. "When he was a boy, she used to make him keep his socks arranged alphabetically. Herr General," he added, " perhaps we should continue the inspection. You are meant to be meeting General von Behrendorf this afternoon. We have to leave by..."
"I know, Hans. Thirteen fifty."
"Fifteen thirty," said Hogan. Carter turned an arctic blast of blue eyes on him, and he winced, and muttered, "Thirteen fifty."
Damn, Carter's good sometimes! he thought.
"We will go on." Carter switched his attention back to Pintz. "Where is the induction centre?"
"On the ground floor, Herr General." Pintz started towards the stairs. As Carter followed, Hogan held back a little; then, certain that Pintz was not looking, he grabbed a handful of dossiers from the nearest shelf, and tweaked them out so that they fell on the floor in confusion.
"Donnerwetter!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Herr Major. They slipped out of my hand." He stooped, and began gathering the files together, hastily and clumsily.
"Please, Captain," said Pintz, coming to his assistance. "Allow me."
Carter's voice cut across Hogan's artistically disjointed apologies. "Pintz. Leave him to it." He looked down on Hogan with disapproval. "I always make him clean up his own mistakes. It's the only way he'll learn."
Pintz hesitated, then turned back towards the stairs. Carter, after a quick glance at the colonel, followed. He had guessed that Hogan wanted to be left alone among the files for a few minutes, but obviously had no idea why.
As soon as they were out of sight, Hogan bundled the files into the nearest available space, then hastened towards the section where the records for names beginning with R were stored. A rapid search found no trace of Thomas Richter's file. That could mean that his call-up notice was currently being processed elsewhere in the building, or it could mean that Pintz was keeping that particular set of documents in his office. Either way, it was bad news.
Hogan ran up the stairs two at a time, composed himself to a more dignified gait as he reached the top, and sauntered into the induction centre.
Newkirk, from the memory of his own accidental enlistment, had described this truly dismal suite of rooms, but they still came as something of an unpleasant surprise; small and cramped, with low ceilings, walls painted in various shades of pallid beige, and the windows obscured by thick, dark green curtains. It looked as if an attempt had been made to improve the decor by the inclusion of some overly lush potted ferns in the corners, and photo enlargements, framed and hung on the walls. As the pictures all seemed to have originated before the turn of the century, and the plants looked as if they had been freshly varnished, the effect was more sinister than reassuring. What it must be like to enter this place as a conscript was beyond Hogan's ability to imagine. At present, however, no recruits were there.
He fell into step behind Carter, and sneaked a glance at his watch. The hour they had allowed for Hartnell to complete his research had expired; he and Newkirk should be out of the building by now, and it wanted only a little longer until the deadline for Hogan and Carter. But it wouldn't do to rush the fence now. They continued with the inspection tour.
"You have no recruits today, Pintz," Carter said, as he studied a small print of a group of nursing sisters, which hung on the wall of the medical officer's waiting room. It didn't appear to be giving him much pleasure, which was hardly surprising; those ministering angels looked like hard cases.
"We are expecting a new cohort at any moment, Herr General," said Pintz nervously. "If you could delay your departure for a few minutes..."
"I don't think the general can do that," Hogan intervened. "General von Behrendorf gets very agitated if he's kept waiting, and it's bad for his digestion. And whenever he gets bilious..."
"You are right, Hans," murmured Carter. "Another time, Pintz."
Pintz tried not to look appalled at the prospect of another visit, as he ushered his guests towards the entrance hall. Just as they reached it, his attention was momentarily diverted by one of the induction centre staff. It was just as well, because as he entered the foyer, Carter stopped dead, and Hogan, glancing at him, felt a surge of dismay on discovering that, for once, the mask had dropped before the performance was over. General Friedlieb was gone; the expression of shock, anxiety and deep misgiving was pure, one hundred percent Andrew Carter.
Hogan cast his eyes around the foyer. A girl had just come through the main doors; a quiet-looking girl, modestly dressed, with a frightened but determined manner. She had not yet noticed Carter, but he had seen her, and had recognised her.
"Is that...?" murmured Hogan softly.
"Uh-huh." Carter took a hesitant step forward. The movement attracted the girl's attention, and she glanced at him fleetingly as she crossed towards the reception desk. Then she stopped, and looked again. Her face went pale, and her eyes widened.
"Pull yourself together, Carter," whispered Hogan fiercely. "You're going to have to stall Pintz. I'll get her out of here."
Carter blinked, shivered, then with an effort brought Friedlieb back. As Pintz arrived, he swung around. "Major Pintz," he said, "I have reconsidered. I think it best if I observe the induction process. General von Behrendorf will just have to wait. If you please..."
Pintz had spotted Sabine, who was still staring at Carter in bewildered indignation. The major's expression darkened, and he drew back. "Herr General, my staff will be most pleased to assist you," he said. "But I must request you to excuse me. I have an urgent matter that..."
"I beg your pardon?"
Carter spoke softly, but even Hogan cringed a little, and Pintz's attempt to absent himself collapsed into a void of silence. Carter let it rest for a few seconds, then turned to Hogan. "Hans, please tell the driver we will be a few minutes longer. Pintz - after you."
As they disappeared back into the induction centre, the girl abruptly turned and left the building, Hogan went after her, catching up with her on the street. It was no time to be standoffish, but as he took her arm she went scarlet, and tried to pull away. "Please leave me alone," she said, in a low voice.
"Take it easy, Sabine," he muttered. "We're here to help."
"I don't know you, sir." Her voice was shaking, whether from fear or outrage, he wasn't sure.
"No, you don't. But you know my friend in there. He told me about you."
She didn't answer, but shook her head, breathing quickly. Hogan glanced around; the car was gone. It couldn't be far away. Keeping a grip on Sabine's arm, he began to lead her towards the corner.
"Something's happened, hasn't it?" he asked. As she still didn't speak, he went on. "Okay, I know it's hard to believe, when someone in this get-up says they want to help you, but it's the truth. But I can't help you if I don't know what's going on. Talk to me."
She looked up at him, wavered, then whispered, "They came for Papa an hour ago."
Damn! thought Hogan. "I'm sorry," he said. "We thought we could prevent that. But it's not hopeless yet." He glanced down at the little dark head, just below his shoulder. "Why did you come here?"
Another wave of colour swept across her face, but she didn't reply.
"Sabine," said Hogan, "Pintz doesn't keep his bargains."
"I know," she faltered. "Andreas told me. But I had to try."
"No. I won't allow it. Leave it to us, we'll get him out. I promise," he added, as she gave him a fearful, disbelieving look.
They had reached the corner, and he saw LeBeau standing by the car, parked a little way down the street. The Frenchman came forward quickly, then stopped, seeing that Hogan wasn't alone. "They made me move the car," he explained, as they got close.
"So much the better. LeBeau, this is Sabine Richter," said Hogan quickly. "Put her in the car, and don't let anyone see her. Be nice, or Carter will have something to say. And keep the motor running."
Leaving LeBeau to take care of the girl, he went back, trying to figure out how to fetch her father out of there, before it was too late.
Carter had to fight against a surge of panic as he returned to the induction centre, with a sullen, angry Pintz at his heels. If this room had seemed claustrophobic when it was empty, it was much worse now, occupied by a score of men. Carter would happily have spent hours down in the tunnels with as many or more, but this place really gave him the creeps. He tried to compose himself, and to allow General Friedlieb to take charge.
The recruits, still in civilian clothes, were called to attention on his arrival. They were mostly young; boys of eighteen and nineteen, just out of school, with a sprinkling in their twenties and thirties, who had somehow escaped the draft until now. None of them looked as if they were ready to join the Nazi war machine, although most of the younger ones, fresh from the Hitler-Jugend, at least knew how to stand to attention properly.
What was Sabine doing here?
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, knowing that he couldn't let himself be distracted now. Whatever it was, the colonel would know how to deal with it. Carter's task - Friedlieb's task - was to keep Pintz occupied. He took his time, giving each man a thorough once-over before moving on to the next.
Fifteen thirty had passed; they were into overtime.
Hogan came into the room, just as Carter reached the end of the front rank. He gave Carter a curiously intent look; there was something he wanted to convey, but Carter couldn't quite grasp it. He turned his attention back to the last man in the front row; an older man than the rest, short in stature, dark-haired, not particularly robust in appearance. Carter stood silent for a moment, struck by a curious sense of familiarity. He didn't know this man, but there was something about him...
And then Carter, with a cold shock of realisation, understood why Sabine had come.
