Chapter 17 Bremerhaven, Germany - One Week Later

There was an eerie hush over Bremerhaven at night. Cafés and pubs were closed. The windows of people's homes were covered and sealed tight. Only the brave (or the foolish) dared be about. People like Captain von Trapp.

Georg fought the urge to hide in the shadows as he walked down the empty streets, his posture tall and purposeful. Occasionally movement would startle him, and he'd watch a cat scamper away.

Memories of two weeks earlier, running in secret through Salzburg flashed through his mind, and he shook his head to remove them. It would not do to remember that night and the nightmare that had unfolded. He couldn't risk thinking of Maria at this time.

And he had no need to hide this time. For now, he made full advantage of being in the horrible uniform he'd been forced to wear. It allowed him a level of freedom. He cast a half-glance behind him, feeling the presence of the soldiers he'd requested to be ten minutes behind him. The irony of him making a deal with the Kriegsmarine was not lost on him. But a desperate man would do what needed to be done, and Georg would make peace with his choices later.

He checked his watch and quickened his pace. The telegram he'd received the night before had been the same cryptic code as the one he'd received the week before. About an encounter taking place at a specific time and location. An encounter he had no intention of missing.

After speaking with Nikolas and receiving a vague description, Georg's new plan had quickly formed. It was just as dangerous as his previous, but perhaps not as obvious. He shook his head, wondering what had possessed him to think sabotaging a submarine in the middle of the Nazi fleet would work.

Well, if this didn't work, he could still go back to that.

No, this would work. He would worry about the ethics of it later. He'd decided to make a deal with the devil, and if it worked out, he would be in Italy in a week. His jaw twitched. He would make it work.

Turning down an alley, Georg looked at the numbers above. Bremerhaven, like any city, had its undercurrents. He hoped the uniform he wore would provide some protection. Nevertheless, the gun in his holster gave him some additional comfort.

He approached the designated location and paused and looked around. There were no fire escapes or quick exits. Only the brick wall before him and the stone of the adjacent building behind him. Puddles from rain that had fallen earlier that day reflected the distant street lights, and Georg could hear some sort of creature picking its way through garbage bags, looking for dinner. He rested his hand on the door and steeled himself before silently pulling it open.

The caverness room before him was only slightly brighter than outside. The smell of diesel and grease filled Georg's senses. His eyes adjusted, and he saw a shard of light piercing through the darkness. Muffled voices could be heard, and his jaw shifted as he silently closed the door.

No one guarding, he thought. It was either foolhardiness or arrogance, and knowing Georg's target, it was probably the latter. Regardless, Georg was grateful for that at least. He crept toward the light, and the voices became clearer.

"So it's all set." Georg's eyes narrowed. Zeller.

"The money will be there tomorrow by eight hundred hours."

"And if it's not, we know where to find you."

A pause.

"I would hate to learn you had trouble assuring your end of the bargain."

"You'll get your money as my boss gets what he needs."

"The schematics will be there."

Georg's eyes narrowed. It was true. He didn't know how Nikolas knew…most likely Max had contacts, and Georg didn't want to know who. But he wasn't going to miss this opportunity. He regretted not knowing how many people were in the adjacent room; he only had his pistol, and the soldiers he'd requested for back up were still ten minutes away. And he was only really interested in Zeller. Let the Kriegsmarine deal with anyone else.

"Good evening, Arnold."

Georg stepped further into the shadows as people started walking. He strained to hear, but there were at least two others moving. He paused, debating if he should move; he needed to confront Zeller, and he preferred his target was alone.

The walking became louder as people approached. Georg held his breath and hovered against the wall. Three men passed, not noticing. None of them was Zeller. Georg fought against every instinct to bound into the room. He slowly exhaled and waited, listening for anyone else that might be in the room.

No, Zeller was alone.

Unsnapping his gun holster, Georg took a tentative step forward and then another into the room. He froze when he saw Zeller standing there, his back to the door. Georg's fists clenched. The man before him had been the cause of all of Georg's pain for the past two weeks. The man whose hunt for Georg had separated the Captain from his children, forced him to hide in the streets of his beloved Salzburg like an animal, had forced him into working with the enemy. The man who had hurt Maria and tore Georg away from her.

It would be so easy. Zeller's hubris had his back to the door, unaware that anyone could walk in. And someone had. Georg could simply pull the trigger and end the life of the man who had cost Georg everything.

But that would have been too kind. No, Zeller would face justice.

Georg cleared his throat. Zeller's back went rigid, and he slowly turned around. His eyes widened as he saw Georg standing across from him, his hand hovering over his pistol. For a moment, the two men just stared at one another. It took all of Georg's strength to remain still.

Instead, he shook his head. "So you're not even loyal to the devil."

Zeller's eyes flickered about.

"No soldiers to back you up this time," Georg said and waved his hand around. "I see you're working all the angles. If the Nazis fall, you'll still land on your feet."

The other took a deep breath. "Captain von Trapp," he said, his voice mustering remnants of bravado. "Of the Kriegsmarine"

"No thanks to you."

"You will serve the Fatherland well."

"Which is more than I can say for you." Georg cocked his head to the door. "Selling schematics? I don't think the Germans will like that."

Zeller blinked. "And… and who would believe you?"

Georg's smile did not reach his eyes. "A decorated Captain in the Kriegsmarine? I think they will." His smile fell. "I've been a dutiful sailor."

Zeller swallowed. "I could…I could make some calls. Perhaps get your honorably discharged."

For a brief moment, Georg considered. That hadn't been his plan. He had intended to arrest Zeller, escort him to Berlin, and get "lost" on the way. It wasn't ideal, and he didn't like that he would be on the run, but at least it was some sort of plan. Zeller's offer played in his mind. Being discharged would be far more desirable. He wouldn't have to constantly look over his shoulder. Blackmailing the enemy was tempting…

No. Nothing Zeller said could be trusted.

Georg narrowed his eyes. "Don't worry about me. You have enough to think about."

Zeller squared his shoulders. "Consider it, Captain. You could see your family again. Your children."

Georg's jaw twitched.

"Although you have my condolences for your little wife."

The air sucked out of Georg's lungs. Images flashed before him. Horrible, nightmarish visions of Maria in ruined clothes, her face contorted with pain. Her tortured whimpers as she struggled to breathe. The sheer terror Georg had felt, powerless to save her as he was dragged away. It rushed upon him, and he choked.

Reason left him. He knew Maria was alive. He knew she was safe in Italy and was healing. Zeller's remarks held no truth. But that knowledge was snapped away as the panic, frustration, and despair of the past two weeks roared back to him.

And it was all because of the small man who stood before him.

In two strides he was upon Zeller, and pulled his arm back. His fist collided with Zeller in an action that had plagued Georg's dreams. Something he'd been aching to do. The contact was deeply satisfying as Zeller stumbled backward, his alarm echoing against the warehouse walls.

Georg seethed as he pushed Zeller back, the other man floundering. Georg slammed him against the wall, shouting in a cathartic release. Weeks of agony he'd restrained poured out as he punched Zeller again.

"You do not talk of her!" Georg's voice was low. "You do not speak of her." His left forearm pressed against Zeller's chest, pinning him to the wall. Georg produced the pistol and aimed it at the man's face.

"You left her. You left her to die alone" Georg's eyes burned. "There is no honor in that. Your soul will never recover." He slammed Zeller again, not hearing the clattering of machinery next to him. Zeller gasped, terror distorting his face.

The Captain cocked his pistol, vengeance racing through him. Zeller deserved this. He deserved to die at Georg's hands. For Austria. For Georg and his children. For Maria…

Maria again appeared before him, only now blithe and light. Her voice entered his mind, calming his very being. His children surrounded her, laughing and singing. The love that had brought him back from his frozen state, that had always been there, waiting for him to grasp it. And it was all because of Maria. She was spirited and kind, patient and firm. Her past had been miserable, and yet she'd never wavered. Always smiling, always filled with faith and trust. Faith in God's goodness and trust that Georg would always be with her.

Georg gulped, taking in a harsh, ragged breath. Maria returned him to his senses, bringing him back to reason.

No, not like this.

Seething, Georg lowered the gun. He shoved Zeller again, the other man feebly clutching at the Captain's arms. Georg shifted away, his eyes narrow. "You will rot in hell, Zeller, but I will not lose my soul to put you there."

The silence stretched as the world reformed around Georg. He was vaguely aware of his surroundings again. The unused machinery aside him, the lone light's dim glow, and the sounds of distant footsteps. The fear in Zeller's eyes.

Breathing deeply, he stepped back, keeping the gun steady. It was over. The footsteps grew louder; Georg's reinforcements had arrived.

Zeller's attention snapped to the other room.

Georg shook his head. "I don't like making deals with Nazis, but like you, I will do what I must."

The other glared. "Then we aren't so different."

Georg shrugged. "Perhaps. But unlike you, my family's goodness will always guide me back." His eyes narrowed. "Especially my wife."

Georg kept his eyes on Zeller as the footsteps grew louder. "In here!" he called, lowering his gun.

Zeller, his eyes darting about like a trapped animal, moved quicker than Georg anticipated. He charged forward, pushing at the Captain with the strength only adrenaline and fear could provide. Georg shoved back, but Zeller's momentum was too strong, and both men tumbled into something behind them, something large, complicated, and constructed of heavy iron.

A piece of equipment teetered and then fell atop them. Georg tried to shift away but a crane's hook swung down. It smashed into Georg's leg, and he cried out in alarm as he felt his bones snap. His vision flooded over with white flashes, and bile jumped to his throat.

Shouts and whistles blared, and Georg could see torch lights dancing around, joining the stars in his eyes. He gasped as Zeller's heavy form was lifted off of him.

Voices called out to him, but his mind was swirling. Pain seared through him and Georg could barely make out a soldier hurling Herr Zeller away before he fell into unconsciousness.

To be continued…

A/N: I did a complete course correction and wrote this chapter three days ago, so I am almost positive I will keep picking at it and making updates. But the outcome will remain the same. It might be too easy but it allowed Georg a chance to issue some justice. And I was going to break it up to be dramatic, but decided against it.