Ettore, that's right. It was so hard to keep them straight.
Kaminski paused to wiped his hands and walked over to stand next to the commander. His gaze wasn't the usual flighty thing Richter had seen before: it was impetuous. It was far too impetuous for his liking. “We're not killing anyone if we don't have to. Not even a sadistic madman like the commander, here. If we do that, we're no better than he is. If that's a cliché, I don't care. It's true.”
The Swede scoffed. “Yeah, right. And those above?”
“If they're smart, they'll run out of the building before they choke to death. They'll be damaged but not dead.”
Richter heard the lie in the man's voice and smiled to himself. The question was, was Kaminski only lying to his friends, or was he lying to himself?
“And if it doesn't work? Or they have masks?” Frece demanded.
Ettore walked over and put a hand on the man's shoulder. “We've been through all this. It will work.”
“Because it has to,” Kaminski said.
“Aye, because it has to,” Ettore confirmed.
Frece nodded, pacified if only for the moment.
It was then the commander saw the four of them shared a connection. They were convinced they were going to get away with this. They were actually convinced.
“Where do you think she is, Dom?” Quintus asked.
Kaminski shook his head.
When Richter figured out who he meant, he snarled. He didn't know how, but he would kill all of them. Even the girl.
4
The gate was open, and she ran through it.
“Stop!” Harald yelled. “I demand you stop!”
Ahead of her, she saw a single headlight cutting its way through the darkness. Someone had taken the base's motorcycle out on patrol, and it was headed towards the both of them. Behind her, Harald was closing in. The two would squeeze her along the path until they met, and she would be caught.
Stopping, she looked at what lay around her. She had never been so close to the crater before, had never felt its breath rising on the wind as she did now. A new scent hit her nostrils, something charred and burnt. She had heard about the explosion in the nearby cave, and she saw a number of loose rocks that had been blasted away from the hillside. The cave itself was filled with rubble, but the rubble had created a few new ruts and crevices. She contemplated only for a moment, then crawled under one. It wouldn't be a perfect hiding spot in broad daylight, but it wasn't bad in the dark. As she lowered her head to the ground, Harald passed just beyond her spot, then stopped.
“No one has to know,” he called. “I understand, Lucja. You may not think I do, but I do. This place is enough to drive anyone away. But this isn't helping anyone. Your father isn't helping anyone either if he's trying to escape again. I told you the commander doesn't like excuses, Lucja, and I meant it. If he catches you or your papa, you know what he'll do. If you come to me now, we can talk this through. We might even be able to forget it happened. Just tell me where you are and what your father is planning. If you hurry, we can still save him.” He waited, his hands on his hips. “Goddammit girl, where are you? You think this is easy for me, putting my reputation on the line? Given all I've done, you'd think you would owe me a little gratitude. But no! No, you're going to do what you're going to do. Is that right?” He was furious now, spitting the words at her. How quickly he could change when he didn't get his way. “I know you're here. Get out here! I order you to get out here! I order you!”
In the dark, Lucja waited, still holding her breath. He was close, so close.
After a moment, his footsteps trailed off. She could hear him heading around the edge of the crater, calling her name every now and again. The motorcycle drew nearer, and somewhere above, she could hear the engine shut off. It meant there were now two soldiers in the area instead of one. Whomever had been out on patrol had probably heard Harald's shouts.
The vehicle depot lay well behind her, and she had to find a way back. Ari and her father were counting on her, and if she wasn't there, she didn't know what they would do.
After a time, she resolved to have a peek over the rocks. She hadn't heard anything for a good long while, so she stuck her head up. The silence was so complete that she was almost confident.
In that moment, Harald reached down and dragged her out by the hair. “I've got you,” he said.
5
Moses had spoken to God through a burning bush. And so fire, in a way, was like God. It had the power to give life or take it. It had the power to warm you or steal the skin off of your back. Hans wondered if the god of fire would save him now, or if it would kill him. The room was small. And the fire would be big.
Or maybe the fire Moses saw wasn't really like God. Maybe it was more like a telephone, and God was on the other end of it. It was a question he had never asked his mother.
The Republic's three half-tracks sat in the hangar, lined up like ducks along the wall. Hans knew the exact specs for each. “Production year 1938,” he whispered. “Six cylinders. A hundred horsepower. Weight, seven thousand kilograms. Fuel tank, one hundred ten liters. Maybe full,” he said, lying on his back underneath of one of the vehicles and tapping the metal box over his head. Then, hearing the result, “Maybe not.”
They said he was dumb, but he wasn't. He knew things. He knew the exact specs on all the Kdfz models, their engine and towing capabilities. He knew the exact location of their fuel tanks. He knew the army only had these half-tracks and one motorcycle — conspicuously absent from the garage tonight — and that they were being kept in storage while the hunt for Kriege was still on. He knew the guard who was usually here in the evening, a man named Jonas, was excused for the celebration. He knew he was here alone.
Hans had always been good with his hands. He was good at making tools and fixing things. He wasn't school smart, though (“Oh my boy, er tickt nicht richtig,” his mother used to say whenever he showed her his marks. Hans had no idea what she meant, but he supposed it meant he wasn't school smart, which he wasn't.). So the army had put him in with the grunts.
Sliding out from underneath of the truck, Hans got up and brushed himself off. The fire would be big, but he wasn't scared. He had brought Milo along.
Milo had once been a dog that belonged to one of the whalers on the shore. The man probably didn't like Milo, because he locked him out of his cabin while he slept. Milo had spent his nights wandering up the cliffs in search of food. He had such pretty white and gray fur, like a sled dog. But Hans didn't want Milo to pull a sled. He treated all of his friends like equals.
The doggy was slow to come around, but when he got his leg stuck in a seal trap, Hans knew what to do. Milo didn't need his rear leg. In fact, he was too heavy, period. So once Hans had tied a rope around his snout (for Milo's own safety, really), the boy had sawed him in half at the waist. It made a terrible mess, but it made Milo a lot lighter and a lot friendlier to take around.
Since he was Hans's newest and best friend, the boy decided to take him along to the garage. It was dangerous, but so was leaving Milo alone in the cliffs. That's what his old owner had done, and Hans didn't want to be like him. They'd be friends, and he would just tell Milo to be quiet so no one would hear them. Of course, Milo didn't complain.
The doggie was sitting on the concrete lip behind the half-tracks with his tongue hanging out. Hans went over and pet him on the head. Milo fell over, something rotten spilling out of his torso. But Hans brushed the piece away and set him upright. He was a good doggie, he was.