“Jawohl, I am holding the document now… Yes, I understand… I shall send the other document too… Is it the directive…?”
At which he slowly put his hand back into the drawer, quickly pulled out his Luger, and shot both men in the chest. He then ran round the desk and finished both of them off and ran to the balcony.
When his staff rushed in on hearing the shots they were greeted by the sight of RHSA Kriminalassistant Walter Lehmann standing at the balcony, shooting repeatedly into the crowd of pedestrians below and shouting, “Down there! Down there! American spy!”
His staff ran to the edge of the balcony, saw a man lying in a pool of blood, and Lehmann pointing and shouting, “That one! That one! He is the accomplice! Arrest that man!” Then, turning to his staff, he shouted: “Get after him! Try and take him alive! The one with the grey hat… look there… get after him!”
His staff dutifully obeyed and turned and ran from the room. At which point, Walter Lehmann calmly returned to his desk, collected any papers he might need, picked up some spare ammunition, donned his coat, put the gun in his pocket, and quietly headed for the back door and left the building.
On returning to Elvira, Hans von Schroif briefed his men on the impending operation. As all set about their tasks, he called Wendorff aside.
“I have not forgotten, SS-Panzeroberschütze, what you confided in me earlier. You are as aware as I am how the mind can play tricks, particularly in times of stress, battle and deprivation◦– even when a soldier is awake. I presume that in the intervening hours you have now categorised your previous experience accordingly.”
“I wish that were the case, SS-Hauptsturmführer,” replied Wendorff, “however, what I saw… no, experienced is probably a better word… what I experienced was of such a clear and vivid nature that I could not possibly categorise it as you would wish.”
“Please describe it to me then, SS-Panzeroberschütze.”
“It was as real as I see you talking to me just now… However, it was not you I was observing, but myself. I was standing outside of myself, looking in. SS-Hauptsturmführer, you know I have no great religious or spiritual inclination, so when I describe what I saw, and what I felt, it is purely in terms of rational, honest, accurate description.”
“Go on, SS-Panzeroberschütze,” indicated von Schroif with a wave of his hand.
“Not only did I see the occasion of my own death with supreme, almost heightened, clarity, but the experience also suffused my senses. I could hear and smell with the utmost distinction. SS-Hauptsturmführer, I saw you open the hatch and carry me from my position in the machine and lay me beside a tree, but not only did I see this event, I could also feel it, this… end…”
“Well, feelings almost always follow perceptions◦– as I think we both agree, SS-Panzeroberschütze. If you saw something vividly, then in all likelihood that would inform your reaction to it. Vision comes first in my book, and all else follows it. Now, there are no secrets between us. We have always been honest with each other, and I am going to be honest now… I believe you are making an assumption, the assumption being that the clearer the dream, the more accurate it must be.
“We have both heard of comrades, indeed known comrades, who have foreseen their own deaths. I cannot argue with that, and many have died. This is true, but, SS-Panzeroberschütze Wendorff, I’m sure you will agree, not all. This is also true. You cannot deny that. Therefore, while we can say there may be a certain power in your vision, we cannot say with certainty that it will re-enact itself in real life as it did in your dream.
But one thing is certain, SS-Panzeroberschütze, beyond all doubt◦– we are about to go into battle, and I need you with me. I need that mind of yours to be at its sharpest and most responsive, not clouded or distracted in any way. I cannot make this clearer. If this vision does manifest itself, then you will die. If you die, you die. But if you do not die and, because of your present state of mind, this preoccupation, this disposition, causes the death of any of our crew, then I will find it very hard to understand, let alone to forgive you. It is on this basis that I want you to proceed. I promise to be even more vigilant, just in case what you have foreseen has some validity. But I cannot allow you to join us in this operation if your present state of mind remains dominant. Do you understand, SS-Panzeroberschütze?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Wendorff.
“Good,” answered von Schroif. “Now, let us go and get our Tigers back!”
With that, both men took up their respective positions inside the tank, and, just like the von Schroif of old, the Tiger commander pulled his hand down as if pulling on that imaginary bell chain and gave the command, “Panzer Rollen!”
Looking from the window of the Storch, Walter Lehmann cast a cold eye over the endless forest of beech trees which marked his new homeland. Living here would be a necessary evil, he thought to himself, but hopefully not an extended one. If the Soviet Union did win the war◦– and how on earth wouldn’t they?◦– then he would have played no small part in that victory. Surely then his reward would be worth the small price of a short stay in this underdeveloped, peasant hellhole. But then he didn’t really have a choice, so he quickly quelled any misgivings he currently had.
He had, after all, escaped the bony clutches of certain death, yet again. This was no small matter, and a state of affairs he was almost used to. Walter Lehmann chose to put this down to luck◦– the telephone call at the office in the presence of the Abwehr◦– this offered up even more evidence of the Great Lady’s favours. Yes, he had to use his brains and mettle when the opportunity had presented itself, but over the years he had grown accustomed to this mode of operation◦– wait, wait, wait, it will come, don’t force it, it will come, it always does. Just be ready, do not panic, do not overreact, wait, watch, listen, and keep a steady hand on the tiller.
It had served him well and, as he looked out over the vast Russian forest, he had no reason to think this state of affairs would not continue. After all, it was not as if he was flying in blind. No, he was arriving on a cresting wave of epoch-making providence. History was on his side. As was Dimitri Korsak, which made him smile, for here was even more evidence of the confluence of good fortune, both personal and historical. Who would have thought it? Not only had fate placed him on the right side of history, but alongside his old friend Dimitri Korsak, or Wilhelm Stenner, as Lehmann could not help remembering him. Somehow that weasel von Schroif had been cast into the same nexus, the same surging river!
Lehmann could not help himself but remember those heady days, back in the early twenties, when they were all in the Freikorps together. Granted, Stenner had retained his youthful revolutionary zeal, while his own path had been somewhat more tempered by comfort and the finer things in life, but nevertheless the betrayal still rankled. Hitler and his gang had veered to the right. How they had betrayed the principles of National Socialism, falling into bed and under the spell of any rich industrialist who courted them, aided and abetted by opportunistic cockroaches like von Schroif! And now they were to meet again. How beneficent was this Lady Luck, and how all-encompassing her embrace!
Then, turning his mind to the immediate rather than the forthcoming, Lehmann reminded himself that it would soon be time to make contact with his old friend Stenner. He would do that, then he would be able to relax, but it was not over yet. Though he trusted in the overall direction his life was taking, Walter Lehmann was not so incautious as not to peer from the speeding Storch to scan the skies for any interceptions that may have been made airborne by his hasty and sudden departure. The skies were clear though, and Walter Lehmann settled his large, lucky frame back into his seat and looked forward contentedly to the next phase of his so-far charmed existence.