LOCHNER’S NEMESIS

STURMBANNFUHRER WILHELM MUNDT

SD - AGE 24

 

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 36

 

Standing before him was a man he’d hoped never to meet again.  A high, white forehead presided over a Siberian wolf’s arctic blue eyes, thin straight nose and fleshy lips. Of all the people Lochner might have run into from those unhappy times, Mundt was the one he’d soonest have avoided. But here he was in the uniform of an SD Sturmbannfuhrer. A criminal inspector of the Gestapo. Lochner found himself vibrating from tension. What the hell did the Gestapo have to do with Edward’s capture? 

“How nice to meet you again, Lochner,” Mundt said with bald insincerity, and Lochner’s stomach turned over.

 

Mundt demands Lochner interrogate Edward, which he does half-heartedly. Then...

 

At that moment the door burst open, revealing an agitated Oberst Bauer followed by the corporal who’d been standing guard outside. “Lochner, enough of this. Come! Corporal, help him with his crutch.”

Edward raised an eyebrow. “Seems the headmaster wants a word with you.”

Bauer led Lochner back to the annex where Mundt paced the room while Frischauer stood transfixed, his arms folded, his look sour. Mundt swung on his heel. ”What game is this, Lochner? It is not a game of schoolboys comparing notes of their favourite aeroplanes.”

“We are schoolboys,” Lochner began uncertainly. “Or we were when we last met. I was just trying—“

“Stop! I have no time for this… We want information. What is his squadron? Where is his base? Who are his commanders? Information!’”

“Lochner!” Frischauer cut in in his most forceful voice so far. “This man is an enemy of the Reich. Understand that. Family fealty counts for nothing - he is only your half-brother. He was caught flying enemy agents into our territory and therefore we regard him as one of them - a spy. I’m sure you know what we do with spies.”

“But - but he’s an RAF officer,” Lochner protested.

With the slippery grace of a viper, Mundt was suddenly before Lochner, his face only inches from the pilot’s. Lochner saw the flecks in the irises of his stony eyes, smelled the garlic on his breath. 

“We could shoot him like a dog. And who would know?” Mundt let the thought hang and added, “Only you.” He took a long drag on his cigarette - it was a Sulima; the Turkish tobacco was unmistakeable. As the smoke drifted through the room, Mundt went on, “It is now almost two in the afternoon. We will take a break for an hour. I suggest going for a walk, down by the river if you like. Think very carefully about what you are doing, what your responsibilities are, and what the consequences will be if you fail. For him, and for you.”