Winter Men by Kold Jesper Bugge

Author:Kold, Jesper Bugge [Kold, Jesper Bugge]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781503954755
Published: 2016-02-29T16:00:00+00:00

Hamburg, Germany, October 4, 1941

They went outside. Gerhard glanced up at the three-foot-tall clock on the façade of the main entrance. It was quarter to two. Von Amrath lit a cigarette and offered one to Gerhard. They smoked in silence. He could tell that von Amrath was tense, and he could understand why; he wasn’t particularly excited himself about the meeting ahead of them. He couldn’t help but notice how von Amrath’s lips tightened around his cigarette every time he took a puff. His face seemed tired, and the smile around his eyes was gone. Gerhard noted how his own hand shook when he tossed his cigarette on the ground. To draw attention away from his hand, he crushed the butt emphatically with the toe of his boot into the cobblestoned square, swiveling his heel from side to side in large arcs.

They’d arrived at the Hannoverscher Station well ahead of time. Too much time, really. Gerhard’s work had once been a distraction, but suddenly it had become something concrete, an insistent reminder of what awaited. A cold gust swept across the square, and he buttoned his black uniform jacket up to his throat. He pulled up his red armband, which kept sliding down. It irritated him that he hadn’t properly cinched it and that he still wasn’t used to the uniform.

When they’d walked beneath the Roman arches at the main entrance, he had expected the place to be buzzing with activity and life. He’d imagined suitcases and other baggage stacked on the platforms that divided the various tracks, sweaty railroad workers loading and unloading cargo from the trains, signals shifting from green to red and back again, conductors blowing their whistles, and kiosks selling fruit and flowers at the entrance. But the station was terrifyingly silent and the signals turned off, and the few freight cars he saw were all empty. A man in tattered clothing had approached them carrying a bundle, and when von Amrath asked him where all the trains were, he’d shrugged and hurried on. Von Amrath looked at Gerhard with a puzzled expression on his face.

A black car parked nearby and a chauffeur stepped out. With long strides he went around to the rear door and opened it. A man of medium height climbed out; his face was pockmarked, and he looked to be about thirty years old. The chauffeur continued around to the second rear door, from which a slightly older man with a fedora in his hand appeared. He put the hat on and glanced about confidently. As the men started toward Gerhard and von Amrath, the pockmarked man remained a few steps behind the other. The elder of the two introduced himself as Detective Chief Superintendent Otto Glienicke of the Gestapo, before offhandedly remarking that the other man—who carried a brown leather case under his arm—was Martin Hornow. Glienicke was a tall man, taller than Gerhard, with a stiff manner and a voice that commanded one’s attention. He wore black leather gloves, and both men had donned trench coats.

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