Chapter 6
Herr Zeller's POV
I held the book in one hand, my moustache twitching every now and again as I sat in my office, waiting for the young lad who had come across this piece of evidence. How foolish of the girl to drop this, leaving behind a clue to their whereabouts. Yes, if they are travelling across the mountain, then there is only one place they must be going. Switzerland. And as soon as they cross that damn border, we cannot touch them until we gain control of that small country.
My thoughts were interrupted as a young lad, maybe eighteen or nineteen, tentatively stepped into the freezing room. My piercing glare made him uneasy, oh the joy of tormenting this boy. He's too innocent for the new world. I would've gotten rid of him if it weren't for the fact that he was close to one of Von Trapp's daughters. His eldest I believe.
"You wanted me sir," he stammered, not making eye contact with me and instead looking at the space above me.
"Do you know which of Von Trapp's daughters owns this book?" I asked, although already knowing the answer.
"Little Brigitta, sir," his eyes darted down to me, the book and then back up to the space above me.
"And how do you know this?" I raised an eyebrow, my moustache twitching once again.
"Because I saw Fraulein Maria give it her. Plus, Liesl told me," he pursed his mouth shut after that.
"Liesl? Was this the Von Trapp you were in a relationship with?" I asked, torturing this boy even more apparently.
"Briefly," he mumbled.
"Alright then… what's your name?"
"Rolf."
"Alright then Rolf, I'll give you a chance to find and bring in the Von Trapps. We know they are somewhere on that chunk of rock, and that they are possibly heading to Switzerland. One thing, I want them back alive. Do you understand? I'm sure Dachau will do more damage to their innocent souls than you or your merry men ever will. What are you waiting for? Get on with it man!" I shouted, pointing at the door with such a tone that Rolf practically skedaddled through the open door.
I gave a small, frustrated sigh, glaring at the book. I've never shown so much hatred towards something so little before. Just knowing that one of those bratty children held onto it, singing their happy little, disgustingly sweet songs, making me seem like a fool for allowing them to leave. What good mother would give their child a book? A book about things boys would do. Girls should be taught how to be a good wife, not how to sail, fish, swim and such. How ridiculous!
I threw the book down into my desk drawer, slamming it shut so brutally that my desk swayed violently. I drew a small breath, bringing on all the energy in my lungs just to do so. What a joy it shall be when we send that wretched family to Dachau, I shall be jumping for joy when that day arrives. And trust me, oh trust me… that day will come…