Colonel Berry

Chapter Forty-One

David glanced at his watch when the Kaserne gate was swung open for him, and as he drove through, he shuddered in relief. Sixteen twenty. Not enough time left to make it to the border before it closes. A hotel. He blew out a deep breath. But not here. Have to get away from Karlsruhe.

As he drove southward toward Rüppurr, he tried to focus on the passing scene to divert his mind from the interrogation room. But the horror of it continued to creep in, then thoughts of the two missing in February. Franz and Ernst. Three months now since. I wonder... He paused his thoughts, trembling. No, Manfred said they've had no Swiss.

He forced himself to return his attention to the lush scenery, but his mind soon wandered back to Franz and Ernst. Pirmasens is too far from Karlsruhe. Likely an interrogation centre closer. Maybe Kaiserslautern or Zweibrucken. He shook his head. Back to the scenery, David. Then thoughts of Greg filled his mind.

Half an hour later, after several more drifts to vivid images of torture, he arrived in Ettingen and stopped to take a room in the gasthaus where he had eaten on the way north. Then upstairs and finally with privacy, he removed his trousers to examine the dressings. Blood had soaked through the upper one. Not much. Should I change it? He said twice a day. It's been only three hours.

He moved to his foreskin and pulled it back to see the gauze had lightly yellowed. No blood. Satisfied, he recovered his head. Check the other one, David. Damn the twice a day. Wouldn't want to lose this because of my own stupidity. Bad enough to deal with the results of Blaumann's. And the privileged bone-headedness of Manfred.

After he had removed the dressing and saw no fresh bleeding, he added more of the paste from the tube and wrapped the cut with fresh gauze. Then he took out his notebook and wrote the details he could remember, beginning with the flat tyres.

As he pondered the first thunk and scream, he thought, Must have been a ball. Spray would be radial like that, rather than a more focused spurt from a severed... He closed his eyes, cringing at the thought. When he had regained his calm, he continued writing, and in this stop-and-go fashion, he filled several pages, concluding with the comments Grünewald had made about standard procedures and progression.

He reviewed what he had written and added footnotes, amplifications and an overview. Then after he had sketched the design of the thrones and the layouts of the two rooms, he checked his watch. Little wonder my stomach's been growling. Nearly twenty thirty.

Downstairs a few minutes later, David entered the common room, and after reading the menu chalked on the slate, he selected one of the chairs at the empty end of a long table, nodding greetings to others as he sat. The room was about two-thirds full, a good number of old men, but mostly women from old to young. And as far as his quick survey could determine, he was one of only a few young men.

He smiled back at some of the stares, then he opened his novel to the bookmark and began reading. A short while later, a voice beside him interrupted, "What may I bring you?"

David looked up at the young blonde, remembrances of Maria's first approach flooding his mind. "A small carafe of white wine, please. And the weißwürste special." He pointed to the slate.

He had just returned to reading when another voice interrupted, "The way you speak. You're not from here."

"No, I'm Swiss." Looking up from his book, he watched three young women settle into chairs, one beside him and two across the table.

"And what brings you here?" The one beside him asked.

"I'm on my way back to Switzerland from business meetings."