Inside the bank he went to one of the high desks, placed the briefcase between his feet and filled out an application form for access to a safe deposit box. He wrote the form quickly, he knew the box number by heart, but hesitated before signing the card. Instead he took another card and practiced signing “Hermann Klimt” on the back of it a number of times until it flowed smoothly and he was satisfied. He put his card carefully into his pocket before walking slowly to the barred entrance to the safe deposit boxes and ringing the bell there. It took a moment before the old guard shuffled out of the back.
“Buenos dias, senor.”
Wielgus answered him in fluent, though accented, Spanish, and passed the card through the bars. The guard examined it at arm’s length, nodded and unlocked the gate.
“Would you please sign here — then here, sir. Thank you. This way please.”
The guard was a poor man and this was an important job. Rubbing shoulders with the rich day after day. He strutted importantly and produced his key with a flourish and turned it in the left-hand lock on box 457903. Wielgus inserted his key in the right-hand lock and turned it as well. With both locks open the guard pulled out the large box and lifted it in both arms, breathing heavily.
“Heavy, sir… but I’ll manage. In here, please.”
He dropped the box on the table in the small room. Wielgus waited until the door was closed before he moved. Then he locked the door, opened his briefcase and put it on the table and took out a typed list from it which he placed on the table as well. Only then did he open the box and look in at the interior.
It was tightly packed with small chamois bags. Each one was secured with a leather thong which also bore a numbered metal tag. Without wasting any time Wielgus began taking the bags from the box one by one and checking their numbers against the list. When the number matched the list he put the bag to one side. This did not take long. When the task was complete he took out his pen and checked each bag off until he was satisfied that he had all the listed numbers. Only then did he put the large quantity of remaining bags back into the safe deposit box and carefully close the lid. The bags he had removed filled the briefcase two layers deep.
He was about to lock the case when he hesitated. It had been many years since he had last been here, had opened any of the bags. He looked at his watch; there was still time. Carefully he removed the top bag from the briefcase, unknotted the cord, and poured the contents out into the palm of his hand.
Beautiful. First class, all of them. He turned his hand back and forth so the facets of the diamonds caught the light from the fluorescents overhead and sparkled with every color of the rainbow. Compact, costly, attractive. All of the things that wealth should be.
Wielgus never smiled; people made jokes about this, though, of course, not in his hearing. But he smiled now. These stones, they were something worth smiling at.
The smile vanished as quickly as it had come and he was businesslike again. Putting the gems back into the bag, tying it and restoring it to the briefcase, closing and locking this. Then pressing the button for the guard. It took only a few seconds before the door opened.
“Finished already, Senor Klimt? Yes, I remember, you were always an efficient gentleman. Last time you were in — let me see — five years ago, you came and went just as fast. You wouldn’t believe how long some people dawdle about in here. With others waiting, too.”
The guard picked up the box and left, unaware of Wielgus’s eyes burning into his back. The box was returned and locked into place to the satisfaction of them both. As they walked back to the entrance the guard was still talking; he had found that people liked to be chatted with. It made for better tips.
He was right, too. Wielgus passed over a hundred peso note and waved away the effusive thanks. He walked across the bank, nodded at the guard who opened the outer gate for him. Klaus had the door of the car opened and waiting and he climbed in with the briefcase.
“Around the corner and stop,” he ordered when Klaus had started the engine.
Klaus never asked questions. He turned at the first cross street and went on until he found a spot at the curb where both cars could pull in.
“Is Juan reliable?” Wielgus asked. “Have you worked with him?”
“Yes, sir. A good man. Not fast, but he doesn’t get rattled or nervous. Good backup.”
“All right then, he’ll help you with a job. Tell him there’ll be a bonus. For you, too. This must be done quickly. The guard back there in the bank, the one in the safe deposit room. Go back and take a look at him so you will recognize him. Then go with Juan in the Volkswagen, the other one can drive me back. The guard recognized me from my last visit, he even remembered when the visit was.”
“That wasn’t very wise of him.”
“It wasn’t. Fix him now, when he goes home for his siesta, so he won’t tell anyone else about my movements.”
“A wise precaution, sir. It will be taken care of.”
Klaus got out of the car and walked back to the Volks. He was hot in his black jacket but he never unbuttoned it, never took it off. He leaned in the window and spoke briefly to the driver.”
“Drive the Doctor back to Cuernavaca,” he ordered. “Juan and I will return in this car.” He waited until the Mercedes had pulled away before he explained to Juan. “We have some work to do. Extra money in it.”
“Good. I am at your orders.”
Juan put the car into the nearest garage and Klaus waited for him on the corner by the bank. He had made the make on the guard. It would be so easy. And a change from everyday events which, while not boring, could use a bit of livening up. This would be lively enough. He hummed as he thought about it. Nice to work again. Nice to be able to do something to help his employer. He would always be grateful to the man. Probably alive because of him. Recovering from a wound and ready to return to the eastern front. And probable death at the hands of the Russians who rarely took prisoners. Never made prisoners of corporals from the Death’s Head regiments. Corporal Klaus had little hope of survival. But the temporary assignment of guarding the important civilian had been extended and then niade permanent. It was a relationship that they both enjoyed.
There was only a short wait after Juan returned before the guard emerged from the bank. He passed the two men closely, unaware of the predatory eyes upon him.
“I'll make the move,” Klaus said. “You just hold him from the back.” Juan nodded in agreement.
The time came a few minutes later when the old man took a shortcut down a filthy alley between two streets. There was no one else in sight.
“Now,” Klaus said.
Juan ran down the alley as Klaus unbuttoned his coat. The grey scabbard hung down under his armpit to below his waist. The bayonet was long and sharp as a razor. A clumsy weapon to carry about, but one he was secure with. A faithful companion in the east. It slipped free easily as he stepped forward.
“What…. “ was all the old man said as he was seized from behind and spun about. That was all that he had time for.
Klaus slammed his large hand over the man’s mouth and drove his head back against Juan’s chest. With his other hand he brought the bayonet up in a hard, precise motion, placed exactly. To slide through clothes and skin, up across the man’s stomach, through his diaphragm, inside his rib cage and directly into his heart.