“Do you have any water?”
“Was?” she answered.
“Water—wasser?”
“Ja, in the other room.”
“Some for these men, bitte.”
“Ja, I will go.”
“And you will not call the polizei?” said the one healthy American with the rifle. “Calling the polizei would be the end of us, and we are all that are left. They would take us away. Do not call them, if you know what is good for you.”
“Nein,” she said, “no polizei.”
In the kitchen her family, her husband and her three sons in from the fields to eat, waited for her around the lunch table. “Four Americans,” she whispered, “one with a gun. Three are wounded, two very badly. Call the polizei. Tell them there are four American soldiers here. We need help, but they must be quiet.” She filled a decanter with water and took it to the wounded. One of the sons stepped quietly to the telephone and dialed.
Griffin listened outside the door, which opened onto the farmhouse’s backyard. When he heard the German finish his hushed conversation with the polizei and hang up, Griffin yanked the door open and his team of three stormed into the kitchen. Within seconds after the clatter of boots subsided, the men in the family were staring down the barrels of Ml6s. “Danke, gentlemen,” said Griffin, “for being so cooperative. Rest assured you will not be harmed if you continue to be so. Please put your hands over your heads.” He smiled as their arms went up. He took a deep breath and bellowed, “Sep! Let’s go!”
The woman dropped the water pitcher as the wounded American on her couch, his green camouflage blouse covered with thick red stains, jumped up and barked out orders. She was about to scream when he grabbed her, clapping his hand over her mouth and twisting her arm behind her.
“Be silent, old woman, and you, your man, and your children may live to tell stories about this day. Is that not what you want, for your husband and children to live?”
She nodded in his grip.
“It would do me no good to tell you that your government has lied to you, that we are on the side of right and truth. You would not believe me, and you might act against us even if you did. You have done so once already. So no matter, no noise. Agreed?”
Again she nodded.
“Good. Then you will do exactly what I say. Nothing more, nothing less. Agreed?”
She nodded a third time. Griffin came into the room.
“Go easy, Sergeant.”
“Only what’s necessary, Sir.”
“I’m the one who says what’s necessary and what isn’t. See that they’re secured in the cellar. We don’t have much time.”
“I know a way to shut them up faster.”
“I said secure them in the cellar. That’s an order, Sergeant.” “Roger that.”
It took them only a few minutes to bind and gag the men and hustle them downstairs. Only the woman remained in her living room, watching the Americans as closely as they watched her. As she sat on her sofa, she continued to stare at Sep and the other soldier, both of whom had appeared to be so badly wounded earlier, but who now, despite their bandages and bloodstains, seemed quite whole. The Sep noticed her wonder and smiled.
“You think we have amazing recuperative powers, old woman?” She said nothing.
The Sep reached into a pocket and pulled out his wallet. He counted the money carefully, then cocked his head as if to figure. He pulled out a twenty-mark note and tossed it to her.
“For your chickens,” he said, pointing to the bloodstain on the midsection of his blouse. “They served us well.”
The woman scowled. Her face flushed red in embarrassment at being fooled. Her eyes glowed, hot with anger. She crumpled the bill and tossed it to the floor.
The Sep shrugged. “Payment has been made. What you do with it is your business.”
She snorted.
He came close to her, very close, and she retreated, pushing herself back into the sofa. “Old woman, you will do as I say. I am not an officer. I have been places and seen things this officer has not. His rules are not my rules. To me your husband and sons, and even you, are nothing — less than nothing. If I had my way, all of you would already be dead, but my officer will not have it.”
She looked, unblinking, into his eyes.
“So you will do exactly, exactly, as I say. Then perhaps no one will die. Do not force me to disobey my officer.” The Sep backed away. “In this army, disobeying an officer is not such a bad thing. Do you understand?”
“Sergeant Sep, we got two polizei cars coming!”
He turned to the soldier on lookout. “Good, get ready.” The Sep turned back to the woman, yanking eight inches of steel knife blade from its scabbard as he did so. “Do you understand?”
Her eyes never left his, but she nodded slowly.
The Sep slid the knife back into its sheath. “Good. Very good. Then this is what you will do…”
Two polizei cars, lights flashing but sirens off, halted in front of the farmhouse. The officers piled out, pistols and Uzis drawn, and took cover behind their cars, putting the vehicles between themselves and the house. They waited. A moment later two sprinted around the side of the house, headed for the back door. Griffin watched, peeping through the window, then nodded at The Sep. Four of his team lay in wait for such a move. Once the pair turned the comer, Griffin again nodded to his sergeant.
“Old woman,” The Sep whispered, “it is time. Now do as I have told you. Open the door and motion them in.”
She rose, slowly, and in her eyes Sep saw the seeds of resistance begin to grow. He jerked out his knife.
“We can kill all of you right now if we choose. My men in the other building have their rifles aimed straight into the backs of those polizei behind the cars. A false move and they die. And so do you.”
Still the seeds grew.
“And so do your sons and husband.”
She went to the door and opened it, ever so slowly, just as Sep had told her. The polizei were cautious as the gray-haired figure peeked out, but then when she put her finger to her lips and waved them in, all four left the protection of their cars and walked quickly, but cautiously, toward the door. Had they made one misstep, Griffin’s men, each positioned just back from a window but with his rifle carefully tracking his assigned target, would have cut them in half with fire.
Standing out of sight behind her, Sep pulled the woman to one side as the four piled through the doorway. They found themselves staring down the barrels of three Ml6s.
“No heroics, please, gentlemen,” Griffin said calmly in German. “No one has died yet, and if you cooperate and lay down your weapons we may keep it that way.” From behind them Sep noticed one of the polizei edging up his Uzi. The Sep pushed the woman aside and shoved his rifle barrel into the small of the man’s back. “Are you married?”
“Yes,” the man said before he could think about the oddity of the question.
“Then do not make your wife a widow so soon.”
“You’ll please eject the magazines from your weapons.” Griffin’s command sounded more like a request. He managed to keep his grim poker face while thinking to himself how he’d begun to sound like Stern.
The polizei did not move, perhaps hoping their partners who’d dashed for the rear door might rescue them. Griffin didn’t even turn around when he heard footsteps come through the back of the house. The two remaining polizei, their hands tied and placed on top of their heads, were accompanied by a pair of Americans.
“Easy stuff,” one soldier said to The Sep. “They came around the house together, and we bushwhacked ’em.”
“Eject the magazines, gentlemen,” commanded Griffin. “And clear the weapons, then put them on the floor and your hands on your heads. Now!”