The Brandenburg Gate Raid Title: The Brandenburg Gate Raid
Author: Eleta
Summary: Not quite slash, but too much fun to resist! During a postwar mission in East Berlin, Dietrich and the Rats must hide out--and blend in--at a seedy drag bar.
Note: Originally printed in FLANKING MANEUVERS 1. This version is marked "draft", but I do not have another version handy; please be aware that there may be errors in both the English and the German. I will check it against a physical copy of the zine when I have a chance.
The war was over. It was finally over; but some things never change.
Dr. Mark Hitchcock stared at his reflection in the tiny mirror over the dresser. He straightened his tie, squared his shoulders and scowled. Face it. You could grow a long grey beard and you'd still look like a baby faced youngster! Leave looking serious to others. He shook his head. It was hard to believe that he was staying in Heidelberg, preparing to attend the International Association of Microbiologists. He checked his reflection again. The blond, blue-eyed youngster that stared back at him was the same one he'd seen all his life. A crisp white shirt, navy blue suit and highly polished black shoes, yes he looked like a professor; except for his face
"Herr Doktor Hitchcock? Kommen Sie bitte. You come please?" The elderly housekeeper paused on the stairs, her hand at her side. "The Herren wish to sprechen, speak with you. They in the parlor wait. You come please?"
Men waiting to speak with me? He wasn't expecting any one to meet him. He had hopes of catching up with Tully at Heidelberg or Moffitt, but he certainly wasn't expecting any visitors. He followed the woman into the small parlor.
"Dr. Mark Hitchcock?" Hitch stared unbelievingly at the tall, black-haired MP who faced him. A second, smaller MP sat near the door. Both men seemed surprised by his appearance. The man cleared his throat. "You are Dr. Mark Hitchcock, aren't you?"
Tully, if this is some Kentuckian practical joke, I'll get even. Hitch stared at the taller MP. "Yes, I'm Dr. Mark Hitchcock. What seems to be the problem?"
"We've had a request from 7th Army Headquarters. They need your opinion on a medical matter. Please come with us." The black haired man and his companion both rose. "We've got a jeep outside; this shouldn't take too long."
"Very well, gentlemen, although I must point out, I'm not a medical doctor." Hitch followed his escort to the jeep and leaned back against the back seat. They got in front and gunned the engine into life.
Hitch followed the MP's into an obvious briefing room. A scarred oak table, littered with papers, four GI green cloth backed metal chairs took up most of the space. A brown metal carafe, surrounded by squat ceramic mugs, sat at the left hand side of the table; on the wall were photo maps of the surrounding area. For a brief moment Mark expected Troy and the others to walk through the door at the far left of the room and ask why he was out of uniform. He shook his head as the dark haired MP's words brought back the present.
"Wait here, please. The major will be here shortly; he'll explain what needs to be done." The MP's vanished out the door to back of the room before Mark could ask his questions.
He perched on the table's edge and filled a cup. The smell of day-old coffee filling the cup contributed to his feeling of disorientation. The explanation for this better be damn good or I will take a hike, he told himself. I said goodbye to Uncle Sam when I entered my doctorate. I don't have to take orders now.
"Hitch?" The man in the door was back light by the sun; Hitch couldn't see him clearly. The voice was one he'd have known anywhere. He bounced off the table and glared in the direction of the newcomer.
"Tully? What in hell's going on here? Listen, I don't care what you cooked up to tell that Major of yours, but I'm going to kill you. Your collection agents scared my landlady into fits and I've got an important conference to attend. I don't have time to play jokes." Hitch fought to get his temper under control. He focused on the Kentuckian, staring at the tall blond in neat military uniform. Unlike the last time that he'd seen Tully in uniform the man before him was neatly dressed, the uniform well starched, the silver oak leaves gleaming on his epaulets. Oak leaves? Oh my God, he's the major those goons were talking about. He's the one in charge here. "I see you made Major, Tully. Congratulations. Now, mind telling me why I'm here?" Mark slumped into one of the olive drab chairs.
"It wasn't my idea, Hitch. But the colonel needed someone with a military background who has a doctorate in microbiology. You'd already registered to attend the conference in Heidelberg and OSS took it from there. I'm just here because we worked well together in the past -- and so I got stuck with briefing you on the mission." Tully pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Intelligence's got a problem and you can solve it for them. They need to know if an East German scientist who wants to defect is on the up and up."
Mark grinned. "So? Trot him out and I'll see what he has to say. Then you and I can go out and find how good the local wine's are."
Tully swallowed again. "It's not that easy. He's in the Russian sector of Berlin; the authorities there aren't about to let him come over to our sector. We're going to have to go there. That's why I'm involved; we're just two old Army buddies seeing the sights."
Hitch blinked then stared at Tully. The other man took the stare, his only reaction faint flush along his cheeks. "You're out of your mind! You actually want me to try and liberate an East German from his cushy lab? Tully, the war's over! In case you haven't noticed, I'm a civilian now. My days of Kraut chasing are over."
"Hitch, it's not like that. He wants to defect -- he says he's a scientist, not a soldier -- and he doesn't like what his bosses have planned for him to research. He's willing to meet with us in Berlin. All you have to do is ask him some questions and let me know if he's the real thing. Then you go home and we get him across to the U.S. sector. Nothing to it." Tully moved a little closer to Hitch, his hands spread before him. "It's really quite simple -- think of it as one last raid."
"Uh-huh. I just ID the guy and you and some unknown take him across. No way, Tully. I'm not going unless you get the rest of the team back together." As Tully started to speak, Hitch interrupted him. "It's quite simple. No Moffitt, no Troy, no raid." He leaned back against the table, willing Tully to agree with him.
"Hitch, it's not that simple. Even if I could talk my colonel into it, how'n Hell am I supposed to get him to fly Troy over here? For that matter, what makes you think that Moffitt would leave his nice cushy job at Cambridge to help us out? Besides the little fact that they'd also have to agree to work with whomever the brass assigned me to help get Herr Doktor Braun back to our sector?"
Hitch grinned. "You know as well as I do that Troy's over here, Tully. He's helping out with the local vineyards." At Tully's snort of disgust, Hitch laughed. "Yeah, I know -- who'd have figured Sarge as a grape grower? But he told me all about it in his last letter -- and I know he's been writing you as well. Give it up, Tully. All it will take is a couple of phone calls, so go ahead and make them. If they go along with this crazy scheme, I will too. I'm not going on a raid without a full patrol." He rose and headed for the door. "It's my way or no dice."
Tully groaned. He crossed to Hitch and caught him by the shoulder. "Be reasonable, Mark. It's bad enough that we've got to work with some German I don't know, don't make me ask my colonel for more civilians. He'll have me back on detail in Korea if you don't lay off." He let Hitch go, stepping back a pace.
"Nope. You and your bosses want a civilian in on it, it's my way or nothing. Com'on Tully. Moffitt's on his way here to meet me now and all you have to do is extend the same warm invitation to Sarge. He's working near Landstuhl, just send a jeep."
Tully groaned again. "Right. Just send for the two of them and tell them what's up. Hitch, if I survive this I'm going to get myself a two week pass and get truly drunk."
Hitch laughed. "Naw, not you, you hard headed Kentuck. Now quit grousing and get this reunion on the road."
Sam Troy straightened, letting the mild autumn warmth beat down on his bare back and examined the vines in front of him. Sam Troy, vintner. Hard to believe. He'd gotten a commission after the war, planning on a nice peace time career. When Korea had blown this plan to hell, he'd gotten out. All I ever wanted was someplace between Hell and Siberia; so Fate sends me to Germany to put things back together. He laughed and studied the sky. It would be dark in about another two hours, time to knock off for the day. "John, let's pack it in for today." He watched the stocky blond youngster stare at him.
"Pack it -- what is to pack, Herr Troy? The vines they need to be planted, not packed." Troy grinned as the young man stared at him, his forehead puckered. Johannes suddenly laughed. "Ach, it is a saying, yah? Ok, Boss, we pack. The night is come soon, and all good cows in the meadow should be, yah?"
Troy laughed, "John, if your English teacher ever heard what you picked up on your own he'd have your head. Let's go get cleaned up and get something to eat."
"But, Herr Troy, is it not the hip I am speaking. I wish to speak Amerikanisch, not Englisch. I am not saying it right?"
Troy tossed the blonde man his shirt and pulled on his own. "No you are not the Amerikanisch speaking right -- but I'm not up to another lesson. Let's go eat." He squinted against the sun as the sound of a jeep bouncing down the mud track that served as a road to the farms outside of Vogelweg caught his attention. Now what? The Marshall office vehicle was a battered Volkswagen that looked like a wartime survival.
He watched the Jeep pull up. Two MP's got out and came toward him. "Sam Troy?" The MP speaking was a red-haired boy of about 18. "Would you come with us, please?"
"Herr Troy, was ist? Is there trouble?" Johannes moved next to Troy, his shoulders squared. "Herr Troy has done nothing wrong. Was wollen Sie?" The youngster's body language indicated that he was more than ready to come to his friend's aid.
Troy fought to keep his face straight. In his wildest dreams in the dessert, during the cold hell of Korea, he had never pictured that one day a German would be defending him from the Mps. "I'm sure that nothing's wrong, John. These gentlemen," his glance flicked over the two soldiers, "I'm sure that it's some kind of a mix-up, John. I'll go with them and get it straightened out." He gripped Johannes's shoulder. "It will all be over by dinner time. Go on, I'll catch up with you."
"Sehr gut, Herr Troy. But if you are not, I will go to my uncle, the Buergermeister and he and the American colonel will come and get you." Johannes stared evenly at the soldiers. My uncle is a man of importance, and he will not be pleased if there is trouble."
"Sir," the red-haired MP's voice shook slightly. "There's no trouble. My CO just wants to talk to Mr. Troy here. He'll be back real soon."
Troy took a seat and settled back as the jeep bounced down the track.
Moffitt took a deep pull at the stein in front of him and smiled. Good beer, a reunion with his fellow Rats and a chance to catch up in person with how life was treating the other three, what more could a man want? He glanced at his watch and frowned. When Tully had reached him by phone to stage the reunion, he'd promised to have the others at the Officers Club promptly by 5:00. It was almost 6 and he still hadn't seen any of his friends enter the building. He was about to pay his tab and go when the other three entered. Troy was flanked by Hitch and Tully, scowling at booth of them. Moffitt gave a silent whistle. The last time he's seen that expression on Troy's face, the three of them had wound up taking orders from a crazy Brit who'd almost gotten them all killed. Something was twisting Sgt. Troy's buttons. Moffitt thought briefly of trying to leave unobserved, then shook his head. Obviously this "reunion" was more than just the get-together that Tully had promised; but he couldn't run out on his friends. Besides, if he left now he'd never find out what was going on. He waved a greeting.
Tully and Hitch led Troy over and the three seated themselves. After setting up a round of drinks, including the awful concoction that Tully favored, Moffitt looked at the Kentuckian. "So what's going on? I thought that our days of daring do were over."
Troy and Hitch both stared at Tully, who swallowed uncomfortably. "I -- that is the U.S. needs a favor. Hitch, you're the one who wanted them here -- you do the honors."
"Chicken, Tully?" Hitch's voice was light, but Moffitt could hear that there was something serious underneath the jest. "All right. In a nutshell, it's simple. Uncle Sam wants me to vet an East German scientist, then let Tully and an unspecified German pull him out of East Berlin. He's the one who called it 'one last raid'. Well, I don't think he ought to be alone on it. If he wants another raid, I think we all ought to be in on it. Right, Sarge?" Hitch's glance went from Moffitt to Troy, ending at Troy.
"It's Mister, not Sarge, Hitch. However, I think you're right. If Tully's going to go and pull scientists out of East Berlin, he ought to have better backup than a German he doesn't know. Moffitt, didn't you used to hang out in Berlin before the war?"
"Right you are, Sarge. So who's our German aide?" Moffitt grinned at the glare that Troy gave him and took another pull on his beer. "Have to admit, life as a Cambridge Don's damn dull sometimes. I'm game for it. You in, Sarge?"
"It's not Sarge anymore, but yes I'm in. Just remember, Tully's the one in charge now. I'm just a civilian, doing my bit to help reconstruct Germany."
"Right, Sarge," three voices said.
Tully sighed. "Well, Hitch, the Colonel agreed to go along with your crazy scheme. We're to meet our contact in his office tomorrow. Then he'll take us sight seeing in Heidelberg so that we can do some planning without having to worry about bugs." He grinned for the first time since the meeting. "There isn't a bug in the world that could work near the Great Tun." He finished his drink and signaled the bartender for a refill. "So let's have another round and drink to success."
As they settled down to their second round, there was a commotion near the door. "I don't care, Herr Colonel, Uncle Hans, I don't believe that Herr Troy is here. He did not come back when he said -- I think that there is trouble."
Moffitt swivelled to see the speaker better. Framed in the doorway were a stock blond youngster, a slightly balding man in a Colonel's uniform and -- Dietrich? What in the name of the seventy-seven devils of Hell was Dietrich doing at an U.S. Officers bar? To his further shock, the Colonel guided Dietrich and the blond over to them, the paused and glared briefly at Tully.
"Major. I had intended this meeting to occur in my office tomorrow morning, but Herr Dietrich's nephew here was concerned about Mr. Troy. Since we are all here, after Mr. Troy," the officer's glance moved over the table, "has reassured his friend that he is not being incarcerated by the United States Armed Forces, perhaps you would be kind enough to bring your friends to my office." The colonel marched out of the club.
The blond youngster stared at Moffitt and the other men. "Herr Troy - you know my uncle?" He kept staring back and forth, looking first at one man then the other.
"Your - uncle - and I had a few run-ins during the war, John. But that's over with now." Troy's voice was admirably calm and level. To Moffitt, he sounded casual and uncaring, which was one danger signal. The blond stared for a moment, then smiled.
"So. It is good that you are friends now, Uncle Hans, Herr Troy. I will remove the," John paused, seeming to search for the right words, "third wheel from your meeting. Herr Troy, I am glad that there is no difficulty." He bowed to the others. "Guten Abend, meine Herren." He walked quickly away from the table.
Dietrich looked Troy squarely in the eye. "So, Sergeant, you are the American aiding my nephew in his struggle to put growth back in the land. I must thank you, later. For now, I believe that your officer has a meeting scheduled for us, and one should never keep an officer waiting. Gentlemen?"
Moffitt followed Troy and the others out. This mission is going to be our most interesting yet. I wonder what Dietrich's going to do when he finds out that Tully's the one in charge. He glanced at Tully and suppressed a grin. Judging by the grim look on Tully's face, he was as worried as Moffitt was fascinated. Definitely, this is going to be one for the record books.
The office was typical for a club, a large green metal table, water cooler in the corner, regulation black phone on the table. As the last one in, Moffitt allowed the door to swing shut behind him. To his surprise, Tully spoke first.
"Colonel, this is a bad idea. Too many people saw us go in; too many for the health of this mission. I say that we keep to the original set-up for the briefing; the Great Tun tomorrow afternoon. Trying to work things out here could get us killed later on.
Those silver oak leaves have really changed Tully . Moffitt leaned back against a wall. He was more than prepared to watch the fireworks and duck if matters got out of hand. His brass must think a lot of Tully. Naw, he never did hesitate to kick up a rumpus if he thought it was needed.
Dietrich cleared his throat. "Herr Colonel, I agree with your man. Too many changes can cause difficulties. I think it best if Sergeant Troy and the others meet me tomorrow as planned."
The colonel's eyes narrowed. He pulled a battered pack of Camels out of his uniform jacket, lit one and offered the pack to the others. "Herr Dietrich, you may have a point. I agree that you should meet tomorrow as planned. If anyone asks, tell them that you where confirming Mr. Troy's innocence of any wrong doing." He took a deep pull on his cigarette, then put it out. "One thing, though. Major Pettigrew here is the military liaison for this mission. He'll represent us as planned."
Moffitt thought he heard Dietrich's jaw click. "Major Pettigrew? I . . . see. As you say Herr Colonel, tomorrow then, in the afternoon." He drew himself up, watching Tully and the others narrowly.
"That's all then, gentlemen. We'll meet as planned." Tully opened the door, waiting for the Colonel to show the others out.
Nice to see that the Great Tun's back to normal. Moffitt leaned back and gazed happily at the noisy scene surrounding his table. The crowded room of waitresses, locals, and tourists were just as he remembered it from his college days before the war. He looked around, trying to locate Hitch and Troy. They had left the room soon after helping him claim one of the larger tables in the stube, muttering something about "getting Dietrich's medal"
He watched Tully wince as the famed hunting clock added its "cuckoos" to the general din. Tully leaned over the table. "Is it always this noisy?" he yelled.
"No. Sometimes it's worse." Moffitt grinned. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Give it a few more minutes and you won't even notice it." He saw Troy and Hitch enter, craning to see them over the crowds. "Over here," he called.
The other two wove their way through the crowd to the table. As they seated themselves, Troy set a magnum of champagne down in front of the one vacant place. "It took a bit of doing, but I managed to find it. It's a little late, but better late than never."
Tully grinned. "You never forget, do you Sarge?"
"Forget what?" Dietrich looked at the table, searching for an empty place.
He always did have a knack for showing up announced. Moffitt shoved his chair back slightly and waited to see what Dietrich would do next. And I thought it was interesting in the officer's club.
Dietrich had located the empty seat, and the champagne bottle on the table in front of it. "What is this? I do not think a celebration is in order until we finish. Optimism is a good thing, but to celebrate beforehand can cause carelessness."
Troy cleared his throat. "It's not in the nature of a celebration, Captain. It's more of an award." Before he could continue, Dietrich shoved his chair back and stood. He glared at the other men sitting at the table.
"I do not need bribes to do my duty, gentlemen. We are allies now, Sergeant Troy, I do not need 'awards" to work with you."
Troy returned Dietrich's glare with interest. "It's not a bribe, dammit. It's - it's . . ."
Hitch grinned. "It's a medal for good marksmanship -- just a little overdue."
Dietrich remained standing, but the glare was replaced by bewilderment. "I fear I do not understand, gentlemen."
"Surely you haven't forgotten that village and the nurse, Captain? We all agreed that you deserved a magnum for that." Troy continued staring at Dietrich, daring him to disagree.
Dietrich stared at the others around the table and slowly reseated himself. "Sergeant Troy, I fear there must be some mistake. I do not ever remember shooting a nurse during our many meetings." He looked directly at Troy. "Still it would be a shame to waste this. I shall be glad to share it with you, but I must correct you on one point. I am now Herr Dietrich, or if we must be formal, Buergermeister Dietrich, Sergeant." He uncorked the bottle and began pouring. Troy took his glass. "I'll try to remember that Herr Dietrich, if you will remember that I'm just plain Sam Troy now. Right, gentlemen?" He winced at the chorus of "Right, Sarge," that answered him.
Dietrich laughed. "I see that you still work as well together as always."
Moffitt leaned his head back against his seat's leather cushion, lazily watching the scenery rush by the train's window. He sighed to himself as Tully leaned foward and cleared his throat. Briefing time. I could have done with a bit more nap, however may as well get this matter started.
Tully opened his briefcase and took out a map of Berlin and a manila envelope. He opened the wall table and spread out the map so that the others could see it easily. Each sector was indicated by a different color, the checkpoints indicated by yellow crosses. "Dr Braun will meet Hitch at a cafe in front of the War Memorial, ostensibly to discuss the paper he just presented at the Heidelberg Conference." He grinned at Hitch. "That'll be your cue to spread papers out all over the table. Braun will slip a paper with his notes on it among yours, so all you have to do is run a convincing shell game."
Hitch nodded. "So far, so good. Then what?"
"You pick up your papers and come back to the hotel. With Herr Dietrich's help you check them out and if he's on the level we go onto Phase II." Moffitt ignored Dietrich's slight smile at the emphases on his lack of military rank.
"Phase Two occurs at night. We'll meet Braun and his contact near the Brandenburg Gate. The contact will see to it that all of us get back safely -- if we run into any East German patrols, he or Moffitt will take care of the talking." Tully stared at Hitch. "You and Sarge are through once the papers are vetted. You'll stay at the hotel in the American sector and wait for us to return. As for your part, Dietrich, it's done when you finish helping Moffitt and Hitch."
Dietrich laughed. "I think that it might be as well if I also came with you. You may need me if there is a need to speak German."
Moffitt leaned back against his seat. I'm going to hate myself for volunteering, but I've got to find out what he's driving at. He crossed his legs. "Herr Dietrich, I would like to know -- what is wrong with my German. The last time I was in Berlin, no one had any difficulty understanding me."
Dietrich laughed. "They understood you and they also knew at once that you were Englaender, Herr Moffitt. I do not think that you will wish to make that known if you are talking to Herr Braun in the East. From what I hear the STASI do not take kindly to intruders talking to their scientists."
"And you won't stand out?" Moffitt made no effort to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
"No. There are many German visitors to East Berlin these days we bring food and other comforts to relatives that the authorities are happy to see. No one will question my accent." Dietrich smiled at the rest of the group; a lazy mocking smile. "So. Now that is arranged, what else must be decided?"
Tully glared around the coach. "All right. Dietrich goes with us to the Eastern sector, when and if we pick up Braun. Now, if we are all in agreement, I suggest that we get some sleep." He leaned back against his seat, eyes closed.
Moffitt glanced at the occupants of the carriage. Right, Tully. Better sleep now, I don't [think] any of us will get much sleep later.
Hitch pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked at the papers on the table. "Dietrich, you're sure that Moffitt and you got this right?"
"Quite sure." Moffitt's clipped tones echoed Dietrich's expression. Somehow, merely by their posture, the two men fleetingly managed to look almost like brothers. "We checked it with every dictionary that Dietrich could find. It still comes out just as we translated it. I may not be a scientist, but it still makes for nasty stuff -- if all the tests come out right." He uncoiled from the folding chair that was one of the few pieces of furniture in their BOQ quarters room and moved until he could look over Hitch's shoulder. "Is it on the straight?"
Hitch frowned and shoved the papers into an untidy heap. "The theory's correct, and the tests he describes sound -- interesting, to say the least. The reaction he's uncovered in the pneumonia strains could cause real problems down the line -- and if the mutation rate can be predicted -- not pretty."
"So we help him join the West, as many others have." Dietrich's voice was very soft. "And what will he do for your government, meine Herren?
"What he wanted to do in the first place, before the authorities in the East realized that his research could be used as a weapon -- find a way to stop pneumonicocci mutations and save lives." Hitch answered in a gruff, curt voice. He glanced at Dietrich then looked away.
This can't be easy for him. Moffitt almost blinked in shock as he studied Dietrich's face and body posture. The other man's face was composed, almost calm, however his eyes were flat. He was sitting erect on one of the metal GI chairs, almost at parade rest. He looked like a soldier awaiting inspection. Moffitt had been shocked more than he expected on seeing the war damages in the city. He hadn't quite understood why he was so troubled, after England's cities were all much the worse for wear. Dietrich explained why, without saying a word. I hadn't realized how much I've changed from the wet behind the ears student I was last time. Time to pick up the pieces. He got up and fetched himself a cup of coffee. "So, when do we make the grab?"
Before Tully could answer, the door opened and Troy walked in. "Looks like old times, Major." Troy grinned. "When do we make the grab?"
"Well, Sarge, it depends on Hitch and Dietrich here." He looked at the unlikely pair. "What did Braun say when you talked with him?" Tully leaned against the table where Hitch had been working. He ignored Troy's grimace at the use of his old title.
"He doesn't want to try moving until dark. He's got everything he want to take with him, he's ready to go tonight. All we have to do is have OSS' contact in place and then we go." Tully looked around the room. All of the others were watching him, waiting to hear more. Hitch was wiping his glasses, Troy's eyes were alert, Moffitt was leaning back against his chair, and Dietrich -- well, Dietrich was smiling slightly, an ironic smile.
"I don't suppose that any of you are going to consider sitting back and waiting for Moffitt and me to bring Braun back." At the chorus noes, Tully sighed. Before he could say anything, Hitch spoke.
"Tully, you were the one who suggested one more raid. It would jinx the whole deal if any of us stay behind."
"And you will need me if anyone questions you." Dietrich watched the others, his voice calm and flat. "After all, I was supposed to provide cover for you originally, if you needed to talk to anyone, Major Pettigrew."
The lanky blond sighed. "All right, we all go. And if something goes blooey, with any luck, it'll take me out and I won't have to explain how I let civilians get killed!"
"Tully, don't worry so. We go in, we go out and we all go home. Piece of cake." Moffitt grinned at the pained expression on the Kentuckian's face.
This is too easy, Moffitt thought. Braun met them at the small restaurant near the Alexanderplatz and they even reached the rendevous early. Their East German contact would provide a car and the papers needed to get them past the East German guards at the checkpoint.
"Car coming," Troy said quietly. They stood, Braun slightly behind Tully, flanked by Hitch and Dietrich. The German turned slightly, moving so that he could see the occupants of the car as they emerged.
Moffitt watched a black, battered Citroen pull up. The driver kept the engine running as a tall, sandy-haired man unfolded himself from the back seat. "That's our contact," he heard Tully mutter. He watched the lanky Kentuckian grin and move toward the car.
"Tullly, no!" Dietrich dove toward the other man knocking him to the ground as Moffitt heard a soft phut. As he watched, Tully started to collapse; Dietrich grabbed him under his elbow and dragged him against the shadowed wall. "Run!" The German manhandled his burden around the corner, followed by the others.
It seemed to take forever, running through blind alleys and ill-smelling streets, dodging potholes and broken chunks of pavement. Fortunately Braun manages to keep up with them -- no-one remembered to look out for the scientist. After the first few hellish moments the sound of running behind them faded away. Finally Dietrich led them into a bombed out building. "It should be safe here -- for now." He lowered Tully. "How bad is it?"
Moffitt waited for Tully to reply that he was used to being shot at when he noticed the sluggish trail of blood down Tully's shoulder. Damn! He must of gotten clipped. He started toward the other two men when a soft voice interupted.
"Forgive, meine Herren, but I know a little doctoring. May I help?" Braun moved closer to Tully. He was trembling slightly, but other than that seemed quite calm.
"Thank you. There is only a little blood, but your help would be appreciated. If you will check I think that we can imoblize the arm." Dietrich's sounded as if he were in a hospital ward rather than a dark, cold damp ruin.
"How . . did . . you know?" Tully's whispered. He groaned as Braun pressed lightly on his upper arm.
Dietrich glanced at Troy. "Do you have a knife on you?" Troy looked at the German as if he had lost his mind. "We need to bandage the arm -- a knife will make it easier to do so." Troy fished a pocket knife out and tossed to Dietrich. As Troy watched Tully's arm being bandaged he repeated the question. "Tully's right. How did you know something was wrong?" He sounded brusque, almost hostile.
"I recognized the man in the car. I had an -- altercation with him during the war. He was a member of the S.S. then; it seems that he has managed to find new masters sucessfully. No doubt his expertise in interogation makes him valuable to the NVA." Dietrich continued bandaging Tully's arm, working in tandem with Dr. Braun.
Troy raised an eyebrow. "Altercation?"
"He wanted to remove a prisoner from my command for further questioning. With Rommel's blessing I told him no. He did not like my answer." Dietrich moved away from Tully. "There. It is as clean and secure as I can make it."
"Sarge," Tully croaked, "we need to figure a way out." He looked at Dietrich. "Your town. You got any ideas?"
"Other than staying out of sight, no. The friends I used to have here are long gone. Perhaps if we can move quietly, we can reach the Brandenburg Gate. Once Braun and one or two of us are through, we can retrieve Herrn Pettigrew.
"Won't work." Tully's voice was clear, even if it was barely above a whisper. "I'll slow you down too much -- they'll catch us."
"That is true -- and they will be watching the checkpoints. We need a place to hide." Braun's voice sounded ragged. He looked at Tully, then quickly glanced in the direction they had just come.
Time for action, I think. Moffitt cleared his throat. "I may have a place we can go."
"You?" Dietrich and Braun spoke almost in unison. The rest of the group stared at Moffitt -- even Tully tried to move, then stopped and winced.
"I had a number of friends here before the war, and I have kept in touch with them. I know one place we'll be safe -- and Tully can get his shoulder looked at." Moffitt stared at Dietrich. "Do you know were we are?"
"Let me check." Dietrich moved cautiously out into the alley and returned a few moments later. "I found a sign post. We are at Hoffenstrasse.
Moffitt grinned. "Good." He moved next to Tully. "Can you move?"
"Yup." Tully pushed himself into a more erect position. "Help me up." Moffitt did his best not to put pressure on the wounded shoulder and tried to ignore the lines around the Kentuckyian's mouth and his pallor.
Tully took a step and steadied himself. "Let's shake it."
The Blue Parrot was a small, run-down building with boarded up upper windows. A tattered awning and a pair of placards by the front entrance were the only indications that it was indeed a night club and open for business. Moffitt guided his group to a side alley and then led them to a battered door, secured by a shiny new *Shlag lock*. He rapped against the door, twice, once, then twice again.
There was clicking sound, then the door cracked open. *Wie gates? Wo sint dar?* The speaker kept the door between himself and the alley, shielding himself from view.
"Max, it's Jack. I need your help -- and so do my friends. Let us in?"
The door opened a trace more then swung open. A slender, blonde man motioned them to enter. His large green eyes where enhanced with taupe eyeshadow and he wore lipgloss. He looked at Moffitt and the others, shrugged and sighed. "You have gotten yourself into a mess, haven't you my dear. Very well, let's use my office and you can tell me all about it." He led them down a narrow corridor, excusing himself to a busty young woman wearing an elaborate blue evening gown and opened the door to a large, white carpeted room.
Moffitt watched Troy and the others look around the room, back at their host and then at him. Finally Dietrich asked, "What kind of a club is this?"
Max laughed, a light, trilling laugh. "A club for female impersonators -- and those who like to relax. We provide a -- paying source of entertainment. But I'm sure that's not why you're here -- and I'm also sure that your friend would like to stretch out on my chaise lounge, Jack darling. You do have such an unusal assortment of friends with you. What sort of a mess have you gotten yourselves into?" Max pulled out chairs, opened bottles and then seated himself on a poufe in front of a mirrored dressing table.
"Just a minute, Moffitt." Troy's voice was soft and dangerous. "How do we know that your friend here won't run to the authorities the minute he knows what's going on. Seems to me that he needs their good will to stay in business."
Max stood, drawing himself stiffly erect. "Jack could have allowed those brown shirted brutes to stomp me into a pulp when he was here in '38, but he didn't. I told him then if he ever needed anything, it was his -- and I'm no fonder of our new guardians of justice than I was of the Nazis. I can see that you need first aid supplies -- I suspect that you need hiding. You can accept my help or not -- your choice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have performers that need watching. It's a pity, but girls who aren't girls can be so catty." He closed the door softly as he left.
"You have some very -- strange friends, Moffitt." Hitch's voice held just a trace of laughter. "I always knew that travel was broadening, but this is much more than I ever expected." He laughed at Moffitt's glare. "For what it's worth, Sarge, I think that we ought to take our host up on his offer. Tully's arm ought to be fixed up a bit better and maybe he can think of a way of getting us out of East Germany without half the STASI or KGB on our tail. I think I've had enough shooting for one night."
"I'm not the one to say, this is Tully's show. He's in charge, he makes the call." He looked at the lanky Kentuckian. "Up to you."
"I say that we ask for help. We've got to get Dr. Braun here back to the American sector -- and by now that joker in the Citroen has got a bulletin out on us. If he's going to sell us out, he's already done so -- but I'm willing to trust Moffitt's judgement. Sarge?"
Moffitt pulled up a small, wrought iron chair and straddled it. "Max won't talk. And he may have a way of getting us out of here -- which is more than I have. If anyone has a better suggestion, let's hear it." After a few minutes of silence he stood. "Right. I'll just go find Max and fill him in then." As he closed the door he heard Hitch murmur, "Extremely broadening."
"Very well, gentlemen, I believe that we can help you out of your little predicament." Max went to a mirrored vanity at the far end of his office and opened a make-up kit. "I think --"
"Just a minute --" Tully's voice was almost calm. Only the faint trace of Southern accent betrayed his upset. "It's bad enough that you know about us -- but the more people who know about us the more danger there is for us. I don't think --"
"You neither the first or last people we have helped get to the Western sector." Max's voice was unexpectedly firm. "All we ask is to remain anyomous -- we do not want OSS trying to use The Blue Parrot as a clearing house for their agents. Now, as to your escape, gentlemen." He took out a tube of pancake makeup, tested it against his thumb and shook his head. "I believe I have an idea."
"I hope that it is a good one, Herr Max. I do not wish to be immodest, but I am sure that the authorities will be looking for me -- and I do not think they care if I am retrieved alive." Braun's sounded calm, a little too calm to Moffitt. The little man was standing still, too still. The tension in his shoulders and the glitter in his eyes showed how close he was to panic.
Come on, Max, don't let me down. Moffitt watched the others, noticing various reactions from Dietrich's scepticism to Troy's hopefullness. He leaned back and waited, trying not to think about the problems that Max's "creativeness might bring. Come through for us -- don't get too inventive.
"You need a means of leaving East Berlin without being stopped by the authorities. I have the means to see to it that they will personally escort you back to the American sector -- without question."
"And how will you accomplish that?" Dietrich's question was echoed in the nods of Troy and the others. Even Braun did not look to hopeful that the answer would help them.
"The Blue Parrot is tolerated, even encouraged by the authorties because we have many Western vistors who are fans of our artistes. English, American, even some West Germans are frequent patrons here. Indeed, even some of the STASI themselves are patrons."
"So?" Troy's arched eyebrow was only one indication of his disbelief.
"So, mein Herr, they see to it that behavior here is -- decorous. Fights, arguments, disagreements -- all are discouraged. And if one of the combatants is from the Western sector he -- or they are discreetly returned home in a nice quiet unmarked car. The guards at the checkpoints ask no questions when such cars arrive, they merely laugh and wave them through. I can see to it that all of you are disguised so throughly that no-one will recognize you. You will return easily -- with the blessing of the very people seeking you." Max turned to face the room. "My -- friend Albert is the featured singer here. You must have passed him as you came in -- a redhead in a blue evening dress."
That woman is . . . Get a grip on yourself, Moffitt, and keep your ears open. He could see that Troy and the others were similarly dumbfounded. Hitch coughed slightly and Dietrich's face was an interesting shade of pink.
"Ach, yes, amazing is it not? Well, he and Walter will help stage a confrontation. There will be an arguement over, " Max looked around at the group, his eye lighting on Dietrich, "you, mein Herr." He grinned at Dietrich's appalled expression. "Yes. You and --", now he looked at Hitch, "you. A little makeup, a change of clothes, some instruction and no-one will notice you among the regulars. No one will be surprised when Albert throws one of his famous fits with this Junge as his target. I will regretfully allow the authorities to remove my guests back to the Western sector where they belong. Do you have any questions, gentlemen?"
"Why me?" Hitch glared as Moffitt and Troy laughed. "Why not him," pointing at Moffitt, "or ...", he faltered at Troy's unblinking stare.
"Because you have the Jugend, the jugendliche look that would most be believed as the target. Albert has always had a fascination with military types, and when we have finished dressing you," Max looked Dietrich up and down, "well, my dears, everyone will quite understand his -- tantrum." Max stood. "Are there any other questions?"
Tully sighed. "What about this?" He glanced at his bandaged arm.
"A little padding, a fancy stock, a few props, and no-one will even glance at you. Many gentlemen favor the Eisenhower jacket -- it hides much. Come now! There is much to do and little time. I will fetch Albert and proper clothes." Max bustled out of the room.
They were allowed a few hours to rest, then Max and Albert went to work on the group. Dietrich was given a crisp white shirt, highly creased corded trousers and glossy black boots. Troy and Tully had lace frilled shirts, pedal pushers and fish net hose, Moffitt a painter's blouse and loose corded trousers, Hitch and Braun gave the most difficulty over their outfits. Braun tried to balk at the red satin evening, but backed down when both Dietrich and Moffitt reminded him of the alternative. Hitch was much more difficult.
Hitch looked at the embroidered white blouse, red and blue skirt, and the underpinings. "No, I can't. I -- I,"
"Hitch, I understand," Troy's rouged and lip glossed face looked like a Bohemian nightmare. "But if we're going to get out, we all have to make sacrifices."
"All right, but I don't have to like it." Hitch took his seat in front of the mirror and tried not to grimace as Albert made up his face. "I look like a God damn milk maid." As Hitch started to rise, the other man gently pushed him back into his seat. "Just one more touch," he said. Hitch watched as a blond, pig-tailed wig was fitted onto his head. Hitch made a face at his reflection.
As they all re-grouped in Max's office, Moffitt took a long look at Hitch. "Nice dress. Who's your seamstress?"
Hitch glared at Moffitt, his ears a bright pink. "One more word, Moffitt --"
"Not now, gentlemen. The club opens in two hours -- that is little enough time to instruct you." Max's green eyes gleamed with enjoyment.
"Instruct us in what?" Dietrich's sounded midly amused. He glanced at Troy then both looked at Hitch. Both men almost managed not to smile.
"You need to understand how to walk, how to blend in." Max looked at Dietrich. "You, mein Herr, you need to be more - more strict, more brutal." At Troy's snicker, Max turned to him. "And you, Herr Troy, you must -- swish. You also, Jack." He adjusted the red checked scarf draped around Moffitt's neck. "It is important that you walk and sit so." The blond walked across the room, his hips swaying very slightly. "Now. You try."
It took the better part of an hour before Max was satisfied with their performances. "Sehr gut. Now the plan is this. You," he nodded to Hitch, "will sit next to him", he looked at Dietrich. The door opened and the flamboyant redhead from the corridor joined them. "Ah, good. Albert you are just in time."
"Of course." The redhead's voice was a husky alto. "I will be superb." Albert looked at Hitch and smiled. "You will do very well. It will be a great performance."
Moffitt again managed to keep his face under control. Hitch, if we weren't friends, the blackmail opportunities -- . He managed to get thoughts of what a picture of this moment could do out of his mind.
They waited until 9:00 p.m. to enter the club by the front door. Troy and Braun entered first, followed Tully and Moffitt. A waiter showed to a table and brought them their orders. Dietrich entered after they had been seated, followed by Hitch. As Max had been arranged they were at tables that almost touched.
A spotlight flared and there was a drumroll. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the incomparable -- Anna!"
Moffitt sipped his watered beer. Albert/Anna, split the difference. At least the singing's not bad. He watched as Anna belted out two blues numbers, followed by a Brecht tune. As the set finished, vigorous applause stirred the smoke blued air. "Thank you, Danke. You are all wonderful." As the applause continued, the singer spoke again. "Very well, since you insist. One more number -- with you, my dear friends." The piano begin tinkling out "La vie on rose" and Anna started moving among the tables, stopping in front Dietrich and Hitch's table. As planned, Hitch had his arm around Dietrich's shoulder.
Anna stopped dead and glared at the pair. "Nimm deine dreckigen Pfoten von meinem Macker, du Schlampe!" she shrieked. Moffitt shoved back his chair to allow the pair room for their fracus. Take your dirty paws off of my guy, you slut!, he mentally translated.
As Hitch stared up at the redhead, Anna shoved Hitch to the floor and ripped at the white blouse. Hitch responded by grabbing a fistful of hair, as Dietrich leaped to his feet and tried to separate them. As one of the patrons tried to protect the singer from Dietrich the Moffitt and the others joined in the fray.
Two brawny waiters, followed by a resplendent Max, dressed in a tuxedo, sorted the combantents out. "Gentlemen, ladies, this will not do." As Max frowned at the knot of people, Moffitt saw a pair of gentlemen in the giveaway grey coats of government officials move toward him.
"Herr Max, is there a problem?" The grey coated man spoke very quietly.
Max pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger as the redheaded singer continued clinging to his arm. "Make them go away, Maxie. They're upseting my nerves. She attacked me. You all saw." Anna clutched Max who gently patted the redhead's shoulder. "There, there, Liebchen. I will take care of all."
The official bowed courteously to Anna. "Fraeulein, it would be a thousand pities if your singing were to suffer from these persons." He looked at Dietrich. "Your name, mein Herr?"
"Buergermeister Dietrich from Landstuhl. We had heard about the Blue Parrot from a friend in the American sector and decided to visit -- a pity the the fraeulein suffers so from nerves." Dietrich stared levely at Anna, who sniffed and buried her head in Max's shoulder.
"Perhaps you and your friends should return to home. Please, allow me to assist you with your transportation. I will make arrangements now. May I use a telephone, Herr Max?"
"Of course, Herr Rimmer. If you would provide as you usually do, I would be most grateful for your assistance." Max shrugged slightly and slipped the offical a folded bill. "For your troubles, and if you would like . . ."
"If Fraeulein Anna would have dinner with me? You are too kind, Herr Max. Leave all to me."
The next hour was one of the most nerve wracking Moffitt could ever remember. He kept having visions of East German jails, or being shot and left for dead, but neither happened. They were bundled into a large car, driven to the Brandeburg Gate and put out of the car. "May you have a pleasant trip home, meine Herren," the driver called. As the car pulled away, a grinning GI walked toward them. "Evenin' gents. Need a cab?"
"No," Tully said, "we need to see HQ. We've got a little package to deliver. Now, if you don't want to annoy a U.S. Army Major, how about it?" Tully looked the soldier squarely in the eye.
"Uh, if you say so, sir, but don't blame me if they throw you in the clink." The Sergeant dialed and spoke into his phone. He straightened suddenly and looked at the oddly dressed little group, then hung up. "I'll get a car for you right away, sir."
Moffitt had to giveTully's colonel full points for control. Not only had he been waiting for their return, he didn't even ask where they had gotten their new clothes. "Interesting, Major. A good report, now I suggest that you all get changed. I think you'll find some clothes in your rooms. Dismissed."
"Yes, sir." Tully looked at the others. "I really want a bath," he said to no one in particular.
"Yeah," Hitch said, "I really don't think that this style suits me. And Tully?" Hitch waited for Tully to face him. "Do you still have some of that home potation about?"
"Sure do, Hitch. Got enough to share if anyone wants it." Tully looked at his friends. "Just go easy on it -- and don't say that I didn't warn you."
"Tully, that's one warning I think none of us will worry about that," Troy answered. "Any questions?"
"No, Sarge," was the unison reply.
It was a week later when Moffitt met Tully and the others at the Goldene Stube, the major inn at Landstuhl. Dietrich had invited the lot of them there -- something about celebrating their success, and had promised to have something special for the celebration. He was the first the enter the inn and was shown to a small room at the back of the building where a table set for five waited.
Moffitt took a seat, and watched as Tully and Hitch entered a moment together. "Colonel got over seeing you out of uniform, yet, Tully?" Moffitt ducked the mock blow Tully hurled at him.
"He got over it -- just as Hitch got over that hangover he had. After all, I got Braun here -- results are all that matter to the top brass. And if you ever mention it again --"
Tully stopped as Troy entered. "Sarge, can't you keep Moffitt off my back?" He glared at Moffitt, who merely grinned in response.
"Major Tully, I'm not in the Army any more -- and if I couldn't keep him in line when we were in Africa, what makes you think I can do so now?" Troy looked around the room. "So, where's our host?"
"I am here -- my apologies for keeping you waiting, gentlemen." Dietrich was slightly obscured by the bottles in his arms. "It took awhile, but I wanted to get the right vintage for our celebration -- and a good year in this is hard to find." He set his burden down, four large black wine bottles.
"Couldn't manage champagne?" Hitch's impudent grin took the sting out of his words.
"No, I could, but champagne did not seem quite appropriate. Please, look at the label. I assure you, I took every pain to get a good year." Dietrich was smiling, the smile of a man waiting to have a joke appreciated.
Moffitt picked up one of the bottles and read the label. "Ratskeller 1947. A good year, I suppose but why this wine?"
Dietrich opened a bottle and poured five glasses. "Well, since I seem unable to escape from you Rats, I thought that I should honor that in our celebration. To cooperation and success, gentlemen."
There was a wave of laughter, then Troy rose, followed by the others. "To cooperation, and mutual success," he agreed as they all drank.THE END
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