Into the Unknown--A wrenching Cold War adventure in Germany's Soviet occupied zone by Marion Kummerow

Author:Marion Kummerow [Kummerow, Marion]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Marion Kummerow

Chapter 19

Otto watched Bruni disappear into the bar and looked back at his disabled truck. It wasn’t just the unexpected delay that bothered him, but the hot load of stolen art. Transporting needed goods into blockaded Berlin was one thing, but this could actually send him to prison for a long, long time.

He opened the back to see for himself. At first glance it was just wooden furniture as the transport papers said, but now that he knew, he distinguished not only the antique chairs and tables, but also the chandeliers, tapestries and paintings that were certainly worth a lot more than the paperwork claimed.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. He was no newcomer to the prison experience and certainly didn’t want to repeat it, especially not in one of the infamous high-security prisons where the Soviets incarcerated and tortured the so-called enemies of the people: traitors, dissidents, and the like.

Surely someone who smuggled precious cultural heritage, as the Soviets called it, wouldn’t be treated with kid gloves and might even be whisked away to a Siberian gulag. Rumors abounded and none of them were good. He’d seen the German prisoners of war returning from the Russian camps after years in captivity and every single time he’d thanked God that he’d been captured by the Americans.

His time in the POW camp had been no bed of roses either, but compared to what those lads had endured…he shrugged off these troubling thoughts. The truck was safely parked out of sight and as soon as the new fan belt was installed, he’d leave for Fulda and get rid of the hot load. But one thing was sure, he’d never in his life work for Heinz again.

He jumped down and locked up the back of the truck, before he headed into the bar for a meal and a drink, hoping Bruni wasn’t pulling another newsworthy spectacle in his absence. The truckers were a tight bunch with no love lost for the police but he couldn’t bear to even contemplate what would happen if the villagers got wind of the attractive singer and flocked to the place.

“Hey, Maria, what’s for dinner tonight?” he asked.

“Goulash soup or potato stew.”

“I’ll have the goulash and a beer.” He walked through the crowded place, greeting a few acquaintances, before he recognized two fellow blockade runners.

“What’s up?” he greeted them.

“Wanna sit with us?”

“Sure, why not?” At least with them there would be no talk about the virtues of the communists or ridiculous claims that no blockade existed and it was all an American publicity stunt.

He secretly eyed one of them, a burly, muscled lad a few years younger than Otto, but he knew better than to show an interest, as he didn’t know for sure about the other man’s sexual inclinations. Better to give a wide berth to everything that even remotely smelled of trouble, right now more than ever.

Maria showed up with his order and set it down in front of him. “Your pretty singer never showed up again.

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