Authors: Alan Bricklin
Julian and the driver were able to eat a hearty breakfast,
fill a thermos with coffee and arrive at the expected meeting point shortly
after dawn. They headed east out of the city, then bounced along dirt roads
before stopping alongside a small meadow bordered by trees and surrounded by
low hills that provided a modicum of privacy. The eastern edge of the meadow
was several hundred meters from the Rhine, flowing swiftly northward to plunge
into Lake Constance fifteen miles to the north. On the first day of their vigil
Templeton had engaged the driver in conversation, mainly to go over the
logistics of authenticating the plutonium, receiving final payment and getting
that money into the numbered account he had previously set up. After going over
the plans a couple of times, there was not much else to say, so they both sat
in the car, the driver smoking and reading a newspaper, and Julian drinking
coffee and thinking.
At about the same time as the two of them pulled the car off
the dirt road to wait, Fabrizio and Larry were beaching the boat along a short
stretch of the bank where the ground angled down to the water's edge rather
than falling off in a precipitous drop, like it did for much of the distance
they had come. It was hardly a beach, however, there being no sand whatever.
Mud, stones, debris and an overgrowth of brush awaited them, but at least they
could maneuver the boat onto shore and could walk to higher ground without
having to climb a seven or eight foot embankment. The earth forming the bank
had been undermined, most likely from a swift current or a high water level at
some time in the past, and had collapsed along much of its length, forming the
slope that now provided an exit path for the two travelers. At either end of
this short stretch, the bank had not collapsed, but was deeply undermined,
forming a cave like enclosure, partly hidden by overhanging brush.
"We'll hide the boat there, just in case we need it again,"
Fabrizio said. "You can't have too many exit plans and escape
routes." They floated the boat to the end of the short stretch of sloped
shore, then dragged it ashore again under the overhanging bank, adding
additional brush and debris to the naturally occurring shrubbery that hung down
from above. Satisfied that it would escape detection except for someone
actively looking for it, Fabrizio motioned Larry up the slope. "We should
be able to get you to the rendezvous in a couple of hours or less."
"Good. I'll be glad when this is over. I need to start
working on arrangements to get Maria across the border. Do you know where they
took her?"
"It could be one of two houses. Maybe three."
"Will your men stay with her?"
Fabrizio shrugged. "Who can say? They might stay for a
day, but it would be dangerous for them all if they remained much longer. My
guess is they will start out for home once your woman is in a safe place. But I
am not there, so I do not know." He left out the part about how his men
would most likely not stay at all since he doubted that Maria would survive her
wound even long enough to make it to the house.
They had reached a path of sorts that followed the Rhine,
partially hidden from both the river and the inland terrain by assorted brush,
trees and occasional stretches alongside rock formations and berms. There was
not much foliage on the bushes, but the sheer density of the stems and twigs
shielded them from view, and although they remained vigilant, they both felt a
degree of security that had been absent for their entire journey to date. The
two walked at an easy brisk pace, a feeling almost of tranquility surrounding
them, yet the partisan remained troubled.
"Tell me where these safe houses are located, Fabrizio,
my friend. It seems that my side will most likely have to go and get her."
"It isn't easy to explain without a map."
"Take your time and do the best you can. We have at
least an hour of walking ahead of us, and I have a good memory as well as a
good eye for visualizing what you describe." Fabrizio explained what he
remembered about the locations, Larry continually asking for more detail,
prodding him to picture the town in his mind and describe how he would proceed,
where he would turn, what buildings he was looking at, what shops or other
landmarks he passed. This interrogation went on for quite a while, longer than
Fabrizio would have liked, but he didn't complain. It helped pass the time and
after a while it became a challenge to the partisan to see how much detail he
could remember. All things considered, though, he would rather have been
talking about women, or wine or his plans for after the war, but the
conversation kept Larry from thinking of anything else or asking other
questions that might be harder to answer, and for this Fabrizio was grateful.
Suddenly the Italian stopped, looked to his left, then to
the right, across the river. "We're getting close. See those twin radio
towers on the other side of the Rhine and that rock formation up on the hill
ahead to the left? When we reach a position where the rocks, the towers and us
are all lined up straight, we head inland for a few hundred meters. Your
friends will be waiting there."
* *
Julian opened the car door, getting out to walk around a bit and
stretch his legs. With the sun above the horizon in a clear blue sky, the day
was already warming up, and he left his coat in the back seat while he walked
out onto the meadow, swinging his arms and pausing now and then to stretch his
back. The coffee was having its usual effect, and his bladder was signaling him
for some relief, so he headed off in the direction of the trees bordering the
grassy meadow, dotted with scattered early spring blooms. After about five
minutes he emerged from behind a large tree and was beginning the stroll back
to Gottier's car when he noticed two men cautiously approaching from the
direction of the river. His binoculars were in the car, so he casually ambled
in their direction, not wanting to make a dash for the car or do anything to
make their presence seem like something more than a chance encounter, in case
these two were not who he expected. In short order they were close enough that
he could recognize Fabrizio, who he had met on two occasions before deciding it
would be safer for all concerned if they communicated by cutouts or secure
messages. It took longer for him to recognize Larry, with whom he had spoken on
only one occasion at the OSS camp when he gave him his instructions. He seemed
different, but Templeton couldn't detail anything specific, and marked it off
as change induced by the strain of a particularly difficult mission. Julian
noticed the pack that Larry carried and, presuming that it was the plutonium,
he allowed a feeling of relief to wash over him, mixed with disappointment as
well as apprehension. He was hoping that it would have been only Fabrizio and
the pack, or, at worst, Fabrizio and Gerhard. No agent. The Italian had
promised that he would take care of the OSS man and he had to assume that
something had prevented him from dispatching him earlier. Fabrizio had always
delivered on his promises, and he expected that this time would be no
different. Nonetheless, Julian began running through options, thinking of
reasons for Larry to stay with the partisan while Julian left with the plutonium.
He was also forced to think about the more distasteful and dangerous
possibility of having to kill Larry himself. As it turned out, he needn't have
worried about either possibility. Templeton walked towards them, wanting the
first encounter to be out of earshot of Gottier's driver.
Fabrizio leaned towards Larry and whispered, "That's
Faro. Not his real name of course, but that's how I know him."
"What does he call you?"
"Fabrizio, of course."
"So, you don't know his real name but he knows
yours?"
"What makes you think 'Fabrizio' is my name?" He
grinned, and when the corners of his lips curled up, and his wine stained teeth
showed, there was no mirth in the smile. "I do not know who that other one
is in the car. I'm not alarmed, but we must be cautious."
"You didn't see anything when you scanned the area from
the trees, and I've been looking since we walked out of our cover. It looks
clear."
"Good." Again the humorless smile.
The three men met in the middle of the meadow, Fabrizio's
rifle resting on his folded arms. The driver had set down his paper and was
watching intently from the front seat.
Templeton spoke first. "Good to see you again,
Fabrizio."
"And to you signor Faro." He had switched to
English for the benefit of his OSS contact, who spoke no Italian.
"As usual you deliver what you say you will deliver.
That's why I like working with you." He turned to Larry. "We were all
worried about you, soldier. I'm glad you made it." He inclined his head
toward the pack Larry carried and continued, "After all that you must have
been through, it looks like the operation has been a success."
There was no smile on Larry's face when he replied,
"Only partially. General Schroeder's ward was shot and we had to leave her
behind. We have to get her out."
"We'll take care of that, as soon as we get you to
safety and you're debriefed."
Larry was about to continue but Fabrizio spoke first.
"That fellow in the car, who is he, and what's he doing here?"
"He's just a driver. Not ours. He belongs to the
gentleman who's making the purchase." A quiet warning sounded in Larry's
mind, somewhere deep and almost below the threshold of awareness. It engendered
a feeling of unease, but no real comprehension, and therefore, no fear. He was
operating at some more basic level.
"Is he armed?"
"Unless it's very well hidden, he has no weapon with
him, other than a nail file he's always using. Seems to be very interested in
his appearance. Are you worried, Fabrizio?"
"No, Faro, but one must be cautious. That's why I'm
still around." As he talked, Fabrizio moved to the side and slowly stepped
around Templeton, ostensibly to get a better look at the driver and the car.
Seemingly satisfied, he turned back, his body now between the car and
Templeton, the rifle still cradled in one arm, and with his other hand withdrew
a handgun from his pocket, the muzzle pointing at Larry's midsection as it
emerged. Leaning in towards Julian he said softly, "And now, signor, I
must ask you to remain very still." And in the next instant he pressed the
weapon firmly into the back of his OSS contact. "Do not move or you die on
this spot, and so does your driver." He raised his head and looked Larry
directly in the face. "This man is not your friend. He has sold out his
country and is willing to sacrifice you, all for that package you carry on your
back."
Larry was momentarily stunned. He felt like a car whose
accelerator was suddenly floored, the engine racing but the clutch not engaged.
Adrenalin forced into his system primed his muscles for action, any fatigue he
felt from the arduous journey was instantly dispelled, but he simply could not
assimilate or evaluate what had just been said to him, so he stood there with
what he later thought must have been a stupid expression, and stared back at
Fabrizio who continued his explanation.
"This man had a deal with a German general to buy
whatever it is that you carry. You were not supposed to make it this far. It
was that General who I shot back there that I was to guide to the border if I
couldn't kill him on the way.
Inside Larry's brain, relays clicked, connections were made
and a sense of verisimilitude began to emerge from the brume that clouded his
thinking. The subliminal warning that had sounded just moments before now rang
loud and true. In Italian he said, "What do you intend to do?"
"Hold that pack out to the side and turn around once.
Your real friends are watching us and will be here in a moment. There is
nothing else that either of us have to do."
After a rapid assessment, Larry did as he was instructed
even though he felt like he looked rather foolish. Putting aside, for the
moment, the veracity of what he had just been told, he figured it was best not
to argue with someone holding a rifle and a gun, especially someone who was
deadly with both. When he completed his three sixty and once again faced
Julian, the latter spoke to him in rapid English. "Don't believe him,
soldier. This guy's only in it for the money. He's going to kill us all and
sell the plutonium to the highest bidder. Think. The three of us should be able
to take him." Continuing the rapid-fire speech, and couching his words in
terms that he thought would make it impossible for the Italian to understand
with his limited capability in English, he added, "The driver has a gun
and will be reacting soon. Be ready to move quickly."
"Shut up, Faro, or in my confusion I might pull the
trigger."
The driver, at first somewhat bewildered by what he saw, was
now alarmed. He thought he might have caught a glimpse of a handgun aimed at
the back of the man he was ordered to drive and watch, so, still keeping his
eyes intent on the scene in the meadow before him, he reached under the seat
and pulled out an American made Colt 45 automatic. He quietly unlatched the car
door and slid out of the front seat. As he raised his gun, the sound of an
approaching vehicle broke the silence of the morning, he and Fabrizio both
turning simultaneously towards its origin. Two cars were speeding around a
curve in the dirt road that ran alongside the grassy area in which they stood,
plumes of dust rising up in their wakes as they careened down a hill. A second
later Fabrizio saw the weapon in the driver's hand, and shifted his position to
get a firing purchase on the rifle, determined not to be shot after coming this
far. Feeling the movement, Julian spun around, falling to his knees as he
grabbed for the automatic, ripping it from the partisan's hand. Fabrizio felt
cornered. Now he had two guns aimed at him, a deadly crossfire. He quickly
gauged that the most immediate and likely threat was from Faro, who, even as
Fabrizio turned to face him, was securing his grasp on the gun and bringing it
up to a firing position. What Templeton didn't see was Larry launching himself
into the air, and he was surprised when the thud of a colliding body knocked
him to the ground, followed by a sharp pain in his right wrist, the agony
radiating up his arm all the way to the shoulder. When the knife like thrust of
the pain subsided, he was lying on his back, his empty hand still numb, and
Larry standing over him holding the Colt.