One plays the cards one is dealt, Neumann thought and then laughed bitterly. He'd been dealt a bunch of jokers. The Munro brothers, Wally, Jed, and Paul, were the best of a bad lot and he thought that the total combined intellects of the three of them were about equal to one normal human. They seemed to live for the opportunity to abuse and assault other people, and robbery was like taking candy to them. There were rumors of their involvement in rapes, which did not surprise Neumann.
The Toronto based Gestapo had offices in the city's downtown, but the hub of their activities was an isolated farm ten miles to the north of the city. Neumann envisioned it as a place where people could be brought, imprisoned, and interrogated without neighbors complaining about the screams. So far, he'd only had the opportunity to use it a few times and with mixed results. He had hoped to be able to use locals for rough interrogations, but people like the Munro brothers were far more concerned with beating people than with extracting information. Neumann thought that torture for its own sake was not effective, although he admitted it could be satisfying. Torturing women was something he and the Munros found especially pleasant.
Neumann decided to discuss details of the task at hand only with Wally Munro, the best of a bad lot.
"Mr. Munro, do you understand why you are being sent south to do this?"
"Sure. You don't want to get caught."
Arrogant little shit, Neumann thought. "Close enough. If something should happen, it would be far better if the someone caught is not a German. Diplomatic immunity can only carry so far. Now, what are you to do?"
Wally Munro was short, stocky, and in his early twenties. He was irked by the question. "We've been over this, Mr. Neumann."
"Humor me."
"Simple. We are to intercept the car, shoot the people, and then make it look like a robbery by taking everything of value. But most of all, we are to take that pouch."
Good, Neumann thought. By taking wallets and money along with the pouch, it might make the Washington police, along with the American military, think that it had been just a particularly violent robbery. While he was not totally confident that the charade would provide cover for very long, it might last long enough. And if one of the Munros should get caught, or better, killed, there would be nothing to link them back to him.
"And if one of you is caught?"
"We are to sit tight in jail until someone bails us out and then we disappear. Our phony ID says we're from Virginia, so they won't worry too much about us flying back to Canada."
"And if one of you is killed?"
"Then we take as many of the fuckers with us as we can. Oh yeah, if we can find out who was responsible, we'll make them wish they'd never been born."
Neumann thought Munro had contradicted himself, but chose to keep quiet. The Munro's were expendable, but if they could provide information as to what was going on at that new facility near Washington, they could prove priceless.
Chapter Three
Alicia Cutter groaned and grasped her abdomen. It was her time of the month and the cramps seemed especially painful. Each month seemed more painful than the last. Maybe growing old wasn't such a curse. A couple of her friends laughingly suggested she get pregnant and solve the problem, at least for a while. Of course she’d create a new problem for maybe twenty years along with her periods when they resumed.
She signed for the pouch from the WAC captain who understood Alicia's unpleasant situation. "At least it's a nice day for a ride," she said.
Alicia managed a smile and admitted that it was. In a couple of weeks it would be Christmas, and the day was cold and bright. There were rumors that it might even snow, which would be a small miracle in Virginia. It snowed, but not that often and rarely around Christmas. When she got back to her quarters, she'd find some brandy, medicinal of course, take to her bed and feel sorry for herself. Maybe she'd get lost in her violin. She hadn't played it in several days and was worried that she'd lose what skills she had. Someday the war with Japan would be over, and she could go back to teaching, unless, of course, America was also at war with Germany, which seemed increasingly likely.
Wilkins and Henry picked up on her lousy mood and left her alone, quietly talking about football while she sat in the back seat with the pouch and sulked. She did like football, but her University of Virginia wasn't playing, so her interest was limited. She recalled that Wilkins had a couple of sisters, so maybe he understood her problem. She put her head against the window and thought about taking a nap. At least this morning she didn't have to go to any effort to make herself look plain. Her period and the attendant bloating took care of that. She would have to apologize to the two corporals for being such a grumpy bitch.
The road from Camp Washington to the Pentagon was two lanes and paved for most of the way. It was lined with trees and bushes where there weren't stately homes and quaint villages. It was really beautiful rolling hill country. There wasn't much traffic, so they were making good time.
She was just wondering how much a house in the area would cost when a truck suddenly entered the road in front of them and stopped. Wilkins swore and slammed on the brakes, hurling Alicia and Henry forward. Henry's head hit the dashboard with a terrible thud and Alicia slammed into the seat in front of her. Pain knifed through from her nose. Dazed, she was dimly aware of men getting out of the truck and wondering why they wore masks while her world spun. They tried to yank the doors open, but they were locked. What was going on? Her mind began to clear and she realized that this was all terribly wrong.
One of the men took a pistol from his belt and smashed the driver's side window with the butt. He reached in, opened the door, and yanked an inert Wilkins out and onto the ground. A second man smashed the rear side window and opened that door. He grabbed Alicia's arm and threw her down beside Wilkins. She screamed and tried to get up, but he punched her to the ground and kicked her in the face, increasing her agony. She tasted blood in her mouth and rolled over on her back with the pouch underneath her.
"Look at this, guys," the man yelled to his companions. "Pussy." Through her pain she was outraged. Her skirt was well up her thighs and this strange man was mocking her.
He stuck the gun back in his belt and ripped open her jacket and began pawing her breasts.
"Goddammit, Paul, get the fucking pouch!" hollered another masked man. "We don't have time for this shit."
Paul straightened and was about to respond when a gunshot barked out. He grabbed his gut and looked stunned. Second and third shots were fired and one bullet blew out the side of Paul's head, spraying Alicia with blood and brains. Alicia turned and saw a bloodied Corporal Henry on his knees, his pistol in his hands. The two other men ran up to Henry and shot him repeatedly. He fell over and lay still.
Sickened, Alicia lurched to her feet, grabbed the pouch, and ran into the bushes. She spun the pouch around and hurled it as far as she could throw it. The effort disoriented her and she felt her world turning and growing dark. In the fading distance, she heard sirens and the two men shouting that they had to go right away and that they had to leave Paul.
Alicia awoke to the realization that she was in a hospital and that her body throbbed with pain. Her period had become the least of her problems. She checked her head and found that she it was swathed in bandages. She ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth and felt a couple of loose teeth. Would she lose them? God, she hoped not. The area around her nose and mouth was bandaged as well. What had happened?
A nurse appeared and smiled. "Welcome home. If you're up to it, there are some people to see you."