The Chair by Michael Ziegler

Author:Michael Ziegler [Ziegler, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B014QLKCJ2
Publisher: Michael R Ziegler
Published: 2015-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

We essentially had a standoff at this point. German SS guards at the door ready to break in on command held at bay by the weasely interrogator we had as hostage.

“Where is my father, where are you keeping him?” Ara began to demand.

“I assure you he is safe young lady; and working for us of his own choice.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute, now tell us where my father is, or so help me I’ll blow your head off.”

I added, “Don’t think we don’t mean business!” and fired a shot in the ceiling. “Now talk!”

Firing another shot in the wall, I pressed the pistol to his temple a little harder which seemed to do the trick.

“Alright, alright he is working for us at a warehouse close by, the old Grünewald Warehouse on Trogerstraße.”

“Tell the guards to back off this floor and go to the one above us, now!” He shouted the orders and after a short time we could hear them leaving. I pointed to the far corner of the room. “Sit down back there and don’t move!”

Opening the door slowly, I held the pistol ready, glancing up and down the hallway. It seemed clear and we had to take the chance. I then signaled Ara for us to go and she followed me down to the floor at street level, then to the end of the hallway where I opened the window. We both climbed out, ran down an ally way and jumped a small fence toward another street. When the bellowing of alarm whistles began to blow, we knew they must be scrambling to find us. We really didn’t know where the Grunewald Warehouse on Trogerstraße was, but we had to find it quickly.

Moving across from one street to another we found a lone woman walking her dog. She seemed pleasant enough and approachable so we decided to try and ask her. “Trogerstaße?”

At first she looked puzzled and then understood what we were trying to ask her. Pointing to the right of us, she muttered something else in German. I answered, shaking my head, trying to tell her my German is not so good repeating a phrase I’d heard a few times before; “Meine deutsch ist nicht zu gut,” and trusted she would understand.

She picked up on it right away and began to answer in the same clumsy English. “Trogerstaße… you go that way, two streets,” then nodded her head with a smile.

I’ve always had bad luck with dogs and this one was no exception; he bit my ankle; but we both smiled and thanked her running off in the direction she pointed. After carefully checking the street signs, we quickly found Trogerstaße. People were busy walking up and down the street and we didn’t have a bloody clue as to where this old Grunewald Warehouse was, which was why it was nothing less than a miracle for us to stumble right into it. “Keep walking Ara,” I motioned.

As we walked past the front of the warehouse, we could see there was a guard sitting at a desk in the small office at the main entrance.

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