The Losing Role Read Online Free Page B

mentioned success,” Pielau said. “Did you find
it?”
    “Let’s just say I’m still looking,” Max said.
Stalling. Thinking. They were offering him some kind of opening,
and he sure as hell would take it. Yet to come up with a plan, he
would have to survive first. He knew what he had to do, for now.
He’d pull out all the stops. The Nazis liked a show. Bombast was
their milieu.
    “Gentlemen, if I may say something?” Max said.
    “Go on.”
    Max stood and met the eyes of all, fists at his
sides. He let one knee wobble, in anger. “I hate America,” he said.
“I despise her. It. It knows no culture. It breeds contempt for
others. It’s a bourgeois wasteland of fat cats and unruly sheep.
This all threatens the National Socialist ideal. The only threat
worse is Communism. May the two rot in hell. So if I can help make
that happen faster, I stand ready.” The lieutenants nodded. Max
turned to Pielau, clicked his heels, gave the Hitler salute and
practically threw his arm out doing so.
    Pielau gave a half-salute. “Fine, admirable. I’m
sure you’ll have your chance. Our intrepid commander—code name,
Doktor Solar—will need such enthusiasm from all of us on this
mission. We’re all a part of this now.”
    So Pielau was jumping on the bandwagon. Smart man,
the captain. Anka should have been this smart. “So, you speak
English too,” Max added in English.
    Pielau stared. He nodded, and then began to shake
his head—
    “ Ach , but of course, you do,” Max blurted in
German, helping the poor soul out. He turned to Rattner. “And you
too, I suppose,” he continued in English—
    Rattner snorted a laugh. “Speaking of tongues, I bet
you’d like to know about the guards here?” he said in German,
changing the subject with as much skill as a rhino diving into a
creek. “They’re Ukrainian SS. Don’t speak German well enough to
know what’s what. You see? We don’t want our guards knowing a
thing, going into town, getting too full of beers or brandy and
spilling the beans. Now do we?”
    “You don’t trust your own men, sir?” Max said.
    “That we will soon find out.” As Lieutenant Rattner
spoke, Max glanced at Pielau. The way Pielau’s flabby jowl had
tightened up, it was clear whom the lieutenant was addressing.
     
    That evening, Captain Pielau sent for Max. Pielau met
him outside on the parade ground alone. Max saluted and the captain
clicked his heels. Pielau was smiling, his teeth glowing in the
moonlight. He lit cigarettes for them. He handed one to Max.
    “Let me tell you the greatest secret. Doktor Solar?
Our commander? He is none other than SS Lieutenant Colonel Otto
Skorzeny. You have heard of him, yes?”
    “Of course. The man is a legend.” Max didn’t want to
know. Surely, this was top secret.
    “So I must warn you. What you said to me about
fleeing to the Western Front? You must never say it to anyone
again. Especially not here.”
    What about divulging top secrets to enlisted men?
How did that fit in? Max shuddered, but it wasn’t from the cold. He
grimaced and hoped it was a smile.
    “I mean it, Kaspar. Less astute SS officers would
have had you shot for less.”
    “Rattner, for example. So I should thank you.” Max
clicked his heels.
    Pielau stomped. “This is no joke. The war can change
now. I can see how it can.” He grasped at Max’s wrist, his voice
rising. “There are new weapons. The grandest plans. And we, here,
are a part of that. We can win this. I tell you we can. When will
you understand it?”
    Max pried Pielau’s hand from his wrist and stood
back, locking eyes with the captain. “Oh, I understand, dear
Pielau. I understand all too well.” His cigarette hung from his
lips, a cold dead stem. It had already gone out.

 
    Three
     
    October passed into November. In the west the
Americans entered Germany and took Aachen. This once-grand city—the
seat of Charlemagne—was reduced to rubble and thousands of Germans
surrendered after the bloody fight. In