Krista's Escape Page 8

  “What if they are not ready for us to board the ship?” Krista fretted.

  “If they can board horses and grain, they can bloody well board humans!” Violet snapped.

  They walked briskly along the dock, looking for the ship that would carry them to England.

  The man calling himself Bertram Standish sat waiting, listening intently to the noise from outside, praying the women would escape detection. He gave every appearance of a man at ease, in spite of his heart thundering so hard it almost rattled his chest. He used his heels to push his chair farther from the fire. He could not afford to appear to sweat. It wouldn’t be long now.

  Even though he had been expecting it, the slamming open of the waiting-room door and the noise it made as it bounced against the wall almost caused him to jump.

  “That, gentlemen, is no way to enter a room,” Gerhardt snapped in English. He put his cigar in his mouth, glaring at the three German soldiers standing in the doorway. “And, either come in or go out – you are letting the cold in.” He leaned back in his chair, continuing to puff on his cigar.

  “Your papers,” the officer demanded.

  “I am a British citizen – why on earth should I present my papers to you?”

  He watched their fingers twitching on their weapons. They were not accustomed to people defying them. They considered themselves the elite.

  “If you insist on staying, shut the door – this room is becoming chilly.” Gerhardt watched closely. He noticed that the two young soldiers standing at the officer’s back twitched but didn’t react in any other way. “What is this all about? You have been making a nuisance of yourself on the docks, I noticed.”

  Gerhardt listened as the officer ordered his two soldiers to return to the dock – he assured his men that the fat Englishman posed no threat to one such as he. He would check his papers and rejoin them soon in their search.

  The officer slammed the door after the retreating soldiers.

  He stood for a moment and took a deep breath – before snapping his fingers at Gerhardt. “Your papers – now!” He returned his gun to its case on his hip.

  Gerhardt reached into the chest pocket of his jacket and withdrew his English passport. With his eyes locked on the other man’s, he held out the document.

  There was silence while the officer examined the passport.

  “Excellent forgery.” He slammed the document into Gerhardt’s outstretched hand.

  Gerhardt continued to study the other man.

  “You are a traitor!” the officer spat.

  “So I would appear to one such as you.”

  “You were ordered to present yourself to your old unit.” The officer turned and stared out the window, watching his men search the docks. The Führer had issued a list of scientists and men of wealth to be detained if seen.

  “I never received those orders,” Gerhardt replied.

  “Because you made sure you would not be there to receive them.”

  “What are you going to do, Heinrich?”

  “You will address me as Hauptsturmführer Wessel.”

  “Hauptsturmführer already? I was not aware of your attending officer training, Heinrich.”

  “You do not know everything I do.” Heinrich Wessel put both hands behind his back and stalked about the room, chin held high.

  “You look ridiculous posturing like that, Heinrich.”

  He swung around. “You dare!” A hand unbuttoned the case holding the gun at his hip.

  “If you are going to shoot me, Heinrich, may I request that you wait until I have finished my cigar?” Gerhardt puffed languidly.

  “I should shoot you down like the dog you are.” Heinrich’s face turned red, the veins in his neck noticeably throbbing. Why had he been the one to find this man?

  “You could do that, of course, but think of the effect your actions will have on you and your career. Not to mention how your beloved older sister will be disgraced.”

  “My sister is a saint, above reproach.”

  “Will your Führer think that way?”

  Heinrich Wessel continued to caress the leather cover on his hip holster. He wanted to shoot this man and walk away with his head high.

  “You need to make up your mind quickly.” Gerhardt drew his gold pocket watch from his waistcoat and made a production of consulting it, despite the overlarge station clock that hung on a nearby wall. “I do not want to miss my ship.”

  He waited to see what the other man would do.

  “You can shoot me and drag my carcass out of this room, loudly shouting your victory,” Gerhardt said softly, his eyes on his watch. “Should you do that, you may perhaps be lauded for your actions. However, in no time you will find yourself slipping down the ranks. After all, you are related to a traitor.”

  “We share no blood.”

  “You and your kind are hunting men and women who have the blood of a Jew from generations back. I am sure if someone interested searched hard enough, they would find some vague blood connection between us. We are both after all members of the German upper class.”

  Gerhardt watched his wife’s younger brother sweat and caress the weapon at his hip. Was it any wonder that he’d been unable to talk sense into his sons’ heads? It was clear to him now that their beloved Uncle Heinrich had been filling their heads with rubbish about the power and beauty of the German Reich.

  “Should you shoot me and declare me a traitor, my wife – your sister – will lose the status that is so important to her. My sons will lose their heritage. You will be closely related to men others will spit on. Make up your mind, Heinrich. It is time to fish or cut bait.” Gerhardt wanted to box the young man’s ears. While he had been working all the hours God made to support his people and his estate this man had been enjoying the rewards of those labours. How dare he stand before him now and judge him!

  “There may be some among my men who recognise you.”

  “I have no time for this.” Gerhardt stood and began to don his outdoor wear. He pulled his collar up around his neck before wrapping his white scarf twice around it. He put his hat on his head and, with a glare for a man he had watched grow from a boy, he picked up his hand luggage and began to walk out of the room. If Heinrich was going to shoot him, he could shoot him in the back.

  “I will not wish you well,” Heinrich spat.

  “I would not expect it.” Gerhardt wondered what would happen to his family in the coming days. He could not stay as head of the family. He would not serve in the German forces. It would be every man for himself from this moment on – he had done all he could to protect his family and estates.

  While Gerhardt fought for his freedom Violet and Krista approached the ship. They didn’t hesitate in climbing the wooden gangplank, holding their breath as it wobbled under their combined weight. Gripping each other tightly, they almost ran up the boards.

  “What is going on? Where is Standish?” Captain William Vickers stood with his legs braced apart, staring at the two women. He had been in a sweat ever since he’d seen those German soldiers grabbing at male passengers. He was well acquainted with the man calling himself Standish. He had given his word to carry these two women safely to England if anything should happen to him. He prayed to God he wouldn’t have to carry out his part of that agreement.

  “Captain Vickers,” Violet stared at the man blocking her way, “permission to come aboard?”

  Vickers stepped back at the order couched as a request.

  “Where is Standish?” He couldn’t delay his sailing. The pilot boats that would lead him out were on a tight schedule. He needed to catch the tide.

  “My husband insisted on enjoying one last cigar before sailing.” Violet had to force herself not to look over her shoulder. “Filthy habit, as I tell him often.” She shrugged and gave the frowning captain a bright smile. “The poor love is a terrible sailor. He wanted to relax for a moment before being subjected to a bout of mal de mer, don’t you know? My daughter and I came on ahead as I ca
nnot bear the smell of those fusty cigars and poor Christine is a martyr to her lungs – cannot stop coughing when her father lights up one of those dreadful things.”

  “I hope he won’t be long.” Captain Vickers felt his heart sink. “I have matters to attend to before sailing. If you will excuse me.”

  “I’ll take you to your cabin, ladies.” A sailor had appeared at Violet’s elbow.

  “Thank you.” Violet took Krista’s arm and towed her along after the sailor. They could do nothing to help and their presence on deck might well hinder Gerhardt in his efforts to escape.

  Captain Vickers put the two women out of his mind. He stood watching the waiting-room door with his heart in his mouth. He waited for the appearance of a man he had called friend for many years. The cool wind blew the sweat from his brow, helping to hide his nerves. He avoided looking up at the crow’s nest where he had a man in position ready to act at his signal, should the worse come to worst.

  The door of the waiting room opened and his friend stepped out, closely followed by a German officer. He held his breath and nerve, waiting to see what would happen. The German officer remained standing in the open doorway of the waiting room, while the older man almost shuffled towards the waiting ship.

  Vickers held his breath. Would he make it?

  “Halt!” Heinrich shouted from the open doorway. He could not allow this man to escape. He must be returned to Germany to serve the Führer. The problem would then be out of his hands.

  The shouted order in German rang across the dock. It attracted the attention of the German soldiers but was ignored by Gerhardt who increased his speed.

  Vickers signalled with an arm.

  A shot rang out.

  The cement of the doorstop at the German officer’s feet exploded in a shower of debris. There were startled shouts and the sound of heavy boots hitting the cobbled surface of the dock.

  “Signal the pilots! Prepare to set sail!” Vickers shouted the order as he watched the activity on the dock.

  Gerhardt lowered his body as he ran, wanting to present a smaller target. He moved with speed towards the ship in a crouched position.

  He ran up the gangplank and Vickers and a sailor hauled him aboard. Vickers pushed him off his feet and against the side of the ship, hiding his presence from view of the docks. The sailor pulled the gangplank aboard.

  “Stay down, man!” Vickers barked when the figure at his feet started to move. He waited a moment to be sure his order was being obeyed. “I haven’t seen a trench trot like that in years.” Men of WWI had learned to move at speed around the trenches while keeping their heads down.

  “Amazing what comes back to you when you’re in danger.” Gerhardt was trying not to shake. “Who the hell took that shot?”

  “Young seaman of mine. Has medals and trophies for marksmanship.” Vickers continued to watch the frantic activity on dock. The stupid officer was still standing framed by the open doorway. Didn’t the man know he was making a very attractive target of himself? Ah, well, if what he had been hearing from people in the know was true, the fool would learn or perish – as they had all had to in the last war.

  The ship shuddered under his feet. They were about to slowly make their way out to sea.

  “May I get up now?” Gerhardt almost wept in relief as he felt the engines of the ship take hold.

  “No, you bloody can’t!” Vickers was tempted to kick the man stretched out on his deck. How dare he ask him to shoot to kill if it looked like he was being taken into custody? He doubted the young man crouching up in the crow’s nest had ever shot at a human being. Would he have been able to carry out the order? Thank God they didn’t have to find out. Not today anyway.

  “I am sorry for the position I put you in, my old friend.”

  Gerhardt lay on his back, looking up at the figure standing over him. “Trust me, it was necessary.” He had never intended to be taken alive. He had seen what the new German Reich did to their prisoners – it was inhumane. It had been his good fortune that an old soldier like Vickers was captain of his getaway ship. A man who would be able to do what needed to be done. He needed to find someplace he could hide before reaction set in. Vickers would understand that.

  In their cabin the two women felt the engines take hold. They looked at each other but didn’t speak. What could they say?

  They held their breath, wondering if the man who had led them this far had made it.

  Violet walked to the window which gave a view out over the grey ocean. She was going home. What would she find there?

  Krista took a seat in one of the soft chairs bolted to the deck. She was shaking and hoped her companion would not notice. Had the Baron managed to escape capture? When would they know? She was trying to focus on the answer to this question in order not to think about her own fate. She was sailing into the unknown. What would become of her?

  To Be Continued . . .

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