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The Crossing - Part 12 free porn video
I was an escaped PoW living as a woman in Nazi Germany. Now my handler
and I had been exposed as spies.
THE CROSSING - part 12
by BobH
(c) 2015
- 27 -
Only once before in my life had I found myself with my hands in the
air, staring down the barrel of a gun held by a man who would have
happily pulled the trigger. That was thirteen months ago when I'd swum
ashore after my bomber had gone down in flames and ditched in the North
Sea, only to find a German soldier waiting for me. Then I had been
soaking wet and clad in the uniform of a Flying Officer in the Royal
Air Force. Now I was dressed as a woman in a stylish skirt suit, silk
stockings, and high heels, with pearl drop earrings dangling from my
ears, and my make-up skilfully applied. Once again I was staring down
the barrel of a gun held by a man who would have happily shot me only
this was no soldier but Franz, the friendly proprietor of the cafe I
visited almost every day. He wasn't looking so friendly now.
I glanced across at Mark Benton, who also had his hands in the air yet
who seemed strangely unperturbed by the situation we found ourselves
in. The man must have ice water in his veins to remain so calm. Not me.
I was terrified.
I looked at the the two men who held our fates in their hands, the
portly middle-aged policeman and the trembling young cafe owner, trying
desperately to think of a way out of our situation. If there was one, I
couldn't see it.
"That's a luger, military issue," observed Captain Wendt. "Where did
you get it, Franz?"
"Albrecht Grost gave it me," said Franz, never taking his eyes off
Benton and me.
"The head of the Gestapo for this area?" said Wendt, raising his
eyebrows. "So you're working for him?"
"Yes, he wanted someone in Rumstahl who would keep an eye out for any
subversive activity for him. No offence, Captain," he said, giving the
policeman a quick sideways glance.
"None taken," said Wendt. "Is your brother working for him, too?"
"Joachim?" said Franz, incredulously. "Don't make me laugh."
"You said you'd been watching Fraulein Schumacher and Herr Schmidt for
a while. Have you been reporting your suspicions to the Gestapo?"
"No, I wanted to have solid proof before I did, and now I have."
"That's good to know," said Captain Wendt.
He then grabbed Franz's head. Before the younger man could react he
wrenched it back with great force, snapping his neck. I watched this
happen in stunned incomprehension. Not so Mark Benton. As Franz's body
slumped to the floor he moved forward.
"We have to get him in the back, make his death look like an accident,"
he said.
"Agreed," said the Captain, taking his shoulders while Benton took his
feet, "and we'll need to place that luger under the counter."
"What just happened?" I asked, finding my voice as the surprise
subsided.
"Captain Wendt is our man in the village, I told you about," said
Benton, "the one with the radio that enables me to contact London. I
had hoped the two of you would never learn each other's identities, but
the cat's out of the bag now."
"I'm surprised it's you, Fraulein," said Wendt. "From what Mark told me
of you I had thought the other agent in the village was a man."
"Yes, well, he's sneaky like that," I said.
"You need to leave now," said Benton. "Go back to the castle. The
captain and I will tidy up here. We're just fortunate no one was
walking by outside the cafe and looking in through the window when this
went down."
"You were even more fortunate I was the only other person in the cafe,"
said Wendt. "Things would have been a lot more complicated otherwise."
"Is this going to change how we communicate in future?" I asked Benton.
"I'll have to give it some thought," he replied, "but in the meantime
we daren't be seen together again until this blows over. Chances are
this place will be closed for a week or two while Joachim copes with
his immediate bereavement, but will reopen after that - he still has to
make a living, after all. Meet me here when it does and I'll have an
answer for you by then. Now go!"
Gathering up my book and my handbag, I did as he asked and exited the
cafe. Outside, I almost collided with Frau Engelmann, the village
postmistress, coming the other way.
"I'm sorry Frau Engelmann," I said, "I didn't mean to startle you."
"That's quite all right, dear," she said, "no harm done, but I must be
on my way. A good afternoon to you."
"And to you."
She continued on past the cafe, not even glancing at it. I breathed a
sigh of relief. That was a close one given Frau Engelmann was also the
village recruiting agent for the Nazi party. Clearly, Franz had also
been a member. Helmut once told me Frau Engelmann kept him informed as
to which villagers joined the party. It was stupid of me not to have
secured that list before now and then shared it with Benton.
As I made my through the village and back up the hill to the castle, I
realised I was shaking. I had just dodged a bullet - almost literally -
and delayed shock was setting in. I badly needed a hug.
And I knew just where to get it.
"Eva, what a pleasant surprise!" said Helmut, his eyes lighting up as I
entered his study, marched over to his desk, sat on his lap, and threw
my arms around his neck. But then why wouldn't they? I was the woman he
loved, after all.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he said, sliding those strong arms of
his around my slender waist.
"I was missing you," I said, kissing him in order to distract myself
enough to temporarily control my trembling.
I could feel him growing hard, the bulge in his pants pressing against
my bottom. Getting him aroused hadn't been my intention, but...what the
hell. I was supposed to be in love with him and as hot for his body as
he was for mine so I should be the one to initiate sex at least some of
the time. More important from my point of view was that I could lose
myself in it and that he would hold me and caress me afterwards, which
I really, really needed right now. So I responded to his arousal by
wiggling my bottom and grinding it into his lap.
"What...what are you doing?" he croaked.
"Isn't it obvious?" I purred, batting my thickly mascaraed eyelashes at
him and pouting while gazing into his eyes. "I want you, and I want you
now!"
I stood up and took his hand.
"But my work!" he protested, nevertheless getting to his feet.
"It can wait," I said. "The Fatherland will survive you taking a few
hours off from your stuffy calculations to give your woman what she
needs."
He thought for a second or two, then nodded. That afternoon, in our
different ways, we both got what we needed.
- 28 -
The following morning, as I'd expected, we received visitors. Helmut,
Gerda and I were still at breakfast when they arrived. They were shown
in by Helga, two Gestapo officers, the black of their uniforms broken
only by the white circle on a red background of their swastika
armbands. One of them was Albrecht Grost, but the other was no less
bull-like. He sported a pencil moustache and, if anything, gave off an
even more sinister air than Grost did. I hated him on sight.
"Albrecht," said Gerda, staring at them in surprise, "...and Bruno
Gruber?"
"Hello Gerda," said Gruber, leering at her.
"I thought you were still in prison for that violent rape," said
Helmut.
"I got him released," said Grost, "and he's now my second in command
and chief interrogator. His victim was only a Jew, after all."
"Yes," smirked Gruber, "at the time I was convicted, what I'd done was
considered a crime; soon it will be a patriotic duty."
He then noticed me and looked me up and down lasciviously. It was
seriously unnerving. And his eyes! There was something in his piercing
gaze that suggested a deep sickness of the soul, and it was a gaze that
once locked onto me never left.
"What can we do for you, Albrecht?" asked Helmut, not even attempting
to hide the disgust written on his face.
"I'm here investigating the death in the village yesterday of the cafe
owner Franz Steiner."
Steiner. Huh. I'd never known his surname.
"I thought Captain Wendt had determined that to be an accident. What's
the Gestapo's interest?"
"The Gestapo's interest is whatever I say it is," barked Albrecht.
"Your... connections may exempt Rumstahl from certain norms everywhere
else has to abide by but when it comes to suspicious deaths the
investigation still falls under the jurisdiction of the area Gestapo
chief, which would be me."
"'Suspicious'?" said Gerda. "You believe Franz's death to be murder?"
"That's what I hope to determine. You examined the body when you
returned from your trip to Switzerland yesterday, did you not, Fraulein
Doctor?"
"I did. Based on the position of Franz's body when it was found,
Captain Wendt deduced that he had fallen from a chair while reaching
for something on a high shelf in the cafe storeroom, and that he had
caught his chin on a lower and protruding shelf while falling. I found
nothing to contradict his conclusion. Cause of death was a broken neck.
Franz also had a large contusion on his chin consistent with having
fallen and caught it on something going down which would have snapped
his head back, resulting in the fatal injury."
"The body was discovered by his younger brother, Joachim...."
"That poor man," said Gerda.
"Yes, quite, quite," said Grost, irritated by the interruption. "He
left the cafe around noon to pick up supplies and returned an hour
later to find his brother dead. He reports that when he left the cafe
there were three people sitting at the tables there, and that when he
returned all three were gone. Those three were Captain Wendt, the
handyman Johann Schmidt, and you, Fraulein Schumacher, is that
correct?"
"Yes," I replied. "I left at around twelve ten. I was the first of us
to leave."
"Did you talk to either man?"
"I believe I said good morning to Captain Wendt when I arrived. I did
not speak to Johann Schmidt. I heard him arrive a little later but by
that time I was engrossed in my book and, anyway, I don't know the
man."
"I understand you visit the cafe most days. Why?"
"It gets me out of the castle. I started going down to the village
every lunchtime to read a book and enjoy a coffee soon after arriving
in Rumstahl, and it's something I've continued doing ever since."
"What brought you to Rumstahl, Fraulein Schumacher?"
"The death of my younger brother, Rudolf. Helmut and Gerda befriended
him while he was here and paid for him to be buried in the churchyard
when he died."
"How did he die?"
"An aneurysm," said Gerda. "Tragic in one so young. Sadly, there was
nothing I could do to save him."
"He died a year ago," said Grost, still focussed on me and clearly
already knowing the answers to most of his questions, "yet I understand
you didn't get here until August 7th of this year. What took you so
long?"
"Rudolf and I were estranged," I said. "News of his death took a long
time to reach me."
I was beginning to sweat. All I knew of Eva Schumacher and her brother
was what Helmut and Gerda had told me. If this line of questioning
continued it would eventually expose that.
"I see. So you arrived on August 7th, and were leaving on the 10th, yet
here you still are. Why?"
"You know the answer to that, Herr Grost. Helmut and I are now a
couple. As for why I never left initially, there was an incident on the
train, after which I was in shock and returned to the castle."
"Ah yes, the incident on the train," said Grost, smiling mirthlessly,
"and the murder of Paula Grunwald, a woman who does not appear to have
existed, at the hands of an alleged madman that no one can find."
Unlike Grost and Gruber, everyone else in the room knew the woman who
died was the real Eva Schumacher, but only I knew her killer was Johan
Schmidt aka Major Mark Benton, an agent of the Special Operations
Executive and a fellow PoW escapee.
"Captain Wendt and I both saw him dive into the river," said Gerda.
"Given how swollen and fast flowing it was it's entirely possible he
drowned, and by now his body could have long since been washed out to
sea."
"Perhaps, and yet how curious that on two separate occasions within a
few months of each other Fraulein Schumacher should be present when
people were killed by having their necks broken."
"Do I look like a woman capable of breaking people's necks?" I asked
him.
"One death was murder, the other an accident," said Helmut, sounding
exasperated, "or are you suggesting the madman who killed Paula
Grunwald also killed Franz? Should we be worried that he's loose in the
area?"
"That's what I'm trying to determine," said Albrecht, glaring at
Helmut. "It would help if we still had Paula Grunwald's body to
examine, but unfortunately unlike Rudolf Schumacher's it was sent off
to be cremated."
"Space in the churchyard is limited," said Helmut, "so we don't have
pauper's graves, and since her clearly fake name meant there was no way
of contacting any next of kin she might have had, that was essentially
what she was."
"If one were suspicious, it might appear as if the body was disposed of
with undue haste."
"'Undue....Look, Albrecht, the decision as to when the body could be
disposed of was up to Captain Wendt. He kept it in cold storage for a
week until he concluded his investigation. There was no mystery about
cause of death and nothing more to be learned from it by that point so
he had it sent off by train for cremation. You were informed of this at
the time and could have taken possession of it at any point on its
journey to the crematorium in Hartz, so I don't understand what it is
you're implying."
"Paula Grunwald was briefly employed at the castle and stole something
from you, I believe?"
"Our mother's diamond necklace, yes," said Gerda. "Captain Wendt was
there when I retrieved it from her body."
Grost turned back to me.
"You shared a carriage with Paula Grunwald but according to your
statement you'd never seen her before and the two of you never spoke,
is that correct Fraulein Schumacher?"
"Yes."
"Yet you were at the castle the same time she was. How can that be?"
"The castle employs many servants and I was initially only here for a
few days. I never noticed her and may not have even seen her if she was
working in one of those areas of the castle I didn't venture into."
"Do you still have your train ticket from that day?"
"Maybe," I said, wondering why he was asking, " but I probably threw it
away. I mean, who keeps old tickets?"
"If you do find it I'd like to see it," said Grost. "You and Paula
Grunwald both allegedly boarded that morning's train at the Rumstahl
station yet the station accounts show only one ticket being purchased
for that train. Curious, don't you think?"
"Not really, no. Paula Grunwald was a criminal. When you've stolen a
diamond necklace I doubt you'd think twice about fare dodging."
"Perhaps," said Grost, "but if you had a diamond necklace worth
hundreds of thousands in your pocket would you really risk a
confrontation with a ticket inspector and possible arrest for the sake
of a few Reichmarks?"
"I couldn't say," I said. "You understand the criminal mind far better
than I do, Herr Grost."
He stared at me intensely then, brow furrowed, still suspicious.
"It occurs to me I've never seen your papers, Fraulein, do you have
them?"
Trembling, I picked up my handbag, removed Eva Schumacher's papers, and
handed them to him, papers I'd stolen from her. Out of the corner of my
eye I saw Helmut and Gerda tense, as well they might. Grost held Eva's
photo ID out towards me, looking from me to the photo and back again.
"Not a very good likeness," he said, and my heart sank, "...but then
these things often aren't. It doesn't do you justice, Fraulein. You are
much prettier than that."
"I, uh...thank you."
"You remind me of Helmut's previous girlfriend, Steffi. The two of you
have the same flat-chested, boyish figure. That's Helmut's 'type', you
see. Whatever happened to Steffi, anyway, Helmut? One minute the two of
you were in love, and the next time I saw you she was gone."
"It...didn't work out," said Helmut. "These things happen."
"Indeed they do. I gave Giselle her marching orders last week, so I'm
on the lookout for a new girlfriend myself. Someone with curves, of
course."
Helmut and Gerda visibly relaxed when Grost tucked the ID back in with
my other papers.
"Your papers include a licence for a firearm, a Beretta. Do you have
it, Fraulein?" he asked.
I reached into my handbag and pulled the gun out, handing it over to
Grost grip-first.
"Captain Wendt returned it to me after he'd concluded his investigation
into Paula Grunwald's murder," I said.
"Hmmm," said Grost, weighing it in his hand. "It's small and light so
ideal for a lady's handbag, but doesn't have much stopping power. Do
you always carry it with you?"
"What would be the point of having it if I didn't? A woman who
frequently travels alone, as I did until recently, is sometimes going
to encounter men who choose not to believe her when she says no," I
said, locking eyes with Bruno Gruber who hadn't taken his own off me
since entering the room. "Pulling a gun from your handbag is a good way
of emphasising that no means no. And as to the Beretta's lack of
stopping power - I'm sure it would still make a mess of a man's, ah,
'equipment' if he got too close...wouldn't you agree, Herr Gruber?"
He winced and, at last, looked away from me.
"That will be all for now," said Grost, handing back my papers and the
gun, "but I may need to question you again later."
"Has Captain Wendt told you what happened after I left the cafe?" I
asked.
"He says that Johann Schmidt left about fifteen minutes after you did,
and that he left about another half hour after that, saying goodbye to
Franz Steiner who was standing behind the counter as he did. He
returned an hour later on being informed that Steiner had been found
dead and secured the scene. I haven't been able to question Schmidt
since he apparently took the train to Berlin last night and isn't
expected back for several days. Still, based on Captain Wendt's account
he wouldn't be able to tell me any more than you have so I doubt it
matters. No, unless evidence to the contrary emerges I'm going to have
to accept this is the accident it appears to be."
Putting his cap back on he nodded to the others.
"Helmut, Gerda," he said, before turning on his heel and leaving.
Gruber followed in his wake, winking at me as he left. I shuddered.
"Thank God you didn't swap tickets with the real Eva Schumacher when
you took her handbag," said Helmut after they had gone. "I don't know
how we would have explained Paula Grunwald having one from further up
the line when she supposedly boarded the train here."
"Yes, that was still in my jacket pocket," I said. "I threw both
tickets away weeks ago."
Since Helmut believed I was already on the train before the real Eva
boarded it I couldn't let him know I had had no ticket because I only
climbed aboard when it was stopped five miles out of the village.
"Bruno Gruber," said Gerda, shaking her head, "I still can't believe he
got Bruno Gruber released."
"A rapist," I said, nodding.
"Gruber's much worse than that," said Helmut, "much worse. The man's a
sadist. As a child he delighted in torturing small animals, and as a
young man he beat up more than one girlfriend. His family had money so
they were usually able to cover this up, but when he raped the daughter
of an even wealthier family they couldn't buy the girl off. He also
happens to be Albrecht's best friend since childhood, which says all
you need to know about Albrecht."
"Not someone I ever want to find myself alone with," I said, shuddering
again.
"No, you don't," agreed Gerda, "you really, really don't."
The visit from the Gestapo has disrupted Helmut and Gerda's usual
schedule and put them both behind. So after we'd all assured each other
we were OK they both set off, Gerda for her doctor's surgery and Helmut
for his study, leaving me alone to ponder the events of the past twenty
hours. Had things worked out differently I would now be a prisoner in
Gestapo HQ and at the mercy of Bruno Gruber because to the Gestapo
'chief interrogator' was just another way of saying 'torturer'. I had
had a couple of close shaves, but this had been the closest yet. I had
to be lucky every time, but they only needed to be lucky once. If that
day ever comes it will be all over for me.
Somehow, I didn't think I was going to sleep very well tonight.
*****************
To be continued
*****************
Mikayla
- 27.03.2021
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