The spies of warsaw by Furst Alan

Author:Furst Alan [Furst Alan]
Format: epub
Tags: english
ISBN: 9781400066025
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2008-06-01T16:00:00+00:00

BLACK

FRONT

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22 December, 1937. The Schorfheide. Fifty miles northeast of

Berlin, a region known for its deserted countryside, its marshland and

forest, deep lakes, bountiful game, and splendid hunting lodges.

Notably Hermann Goring's Karinhall, where, some months earlier, at

one of the field marshal's infamous parties, he had appeared wearing

a leather jerkin, grasping a spear, and leading a pair of bison on a

chain. The bison had been induced to mate, while the guests fell to

awed whispers, and the story was told everywhere.

For Sturmbannfuhrer August Voss, that evening, a party not to be

missed, held at a Berlin banker's hunting lodge not far from Karinhall.

"I think he bought them," said Voss's friend Meino, referring to the

wolf pelts, bearskins, and stag antlers that decorated the pine walls.

The two men stood before a crackling fire in a fieldstone fireplace,

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1 4 4 * T H E S P I E S O F WA R S AW

drinking champagne, following a dinner of wild boar and potatoes in

cream.

"Look at him," Voss said. "I doubt he hunts anything."

The banker, in eager conversation with an SS colonel, was a fat little elf who rubbed his hands and laughed no matter what anybody

said. He looked like a man who'd never been outdoors, much less

hunting.

"Maybe he hunts women," said Willi, third in the trio of SS pals.

"Or boys, more likely," Meino said.

Voss reached inside his black tunic, brought out a cigar, and lit it.

"Care for one?" he said to his friends.

Meino declined. Willi produced one of his own and said, "I'll have

this."

They'd met years earlier: Meino built like a gross cherub, with big

belly and behind, and balding Willi, with a fake dueling scar, made by

a kitchen knife, on his cheek, and a newly installed von in front of his

name. He now worked in the administration office of the SD in Berlin,

while Meino was second-in-command of the Regensburg headquarters. They'd joined the SS in the late twenties, together fought communist dockworkers in Hamburg, together beaten up their share of

Jews, got drunk together, threw up together, were staunch friends and

brothers-in-arms--that would never change.

"Where are the wives?" Willi said.

"In the parlor, gossiping," Voss said.

Willi frowned. "No good will come of that," he said.

"What about this Frenchman?" Meino said, returning to an earlier

part of the conversation.

"He's the military attache in Warsaw," Voss said. "Made me look

like a fool. Then Gluck hauled me up to Berlin and roasted my ass."

"Gluck?" Willi said.

"Obersturmbannfuhrer, my boss."

"Oh, that prick," Willi said, expelling a long plume of cigar

smoke.

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T H E B L A C K F RO N T * 1 4 5

"Lawyer prick," Meino said. "No?"

"Yes, before he discovered the party. Opportunist. " Voss spat the

word. "I said something about getting even, but that made him even

madder."

"So what? You can't let it end there," Willi said.

"Willi's right," Meino said. "I hate these French fairies--they

think they own the world."

"This one needs to be taught a lesson," Voss said.

"That's right, Augi," Meino said. "You can't let him get away

with it.

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