BRANDT LIT one of the storm lanterns he’d brought with him – then the other. The yellow glow it produced was just enough to light the gaunt, terrified faces of the women. Behind them the guards stood, fingers on the triggers of their rifles, their wary eyes hooded by darkness. Adamik stepped forward, allowing the muzzle of the rifle to drop away as he did so. Brandt was pleased it was no longer pointing at his stomach.
‘Neumann kept us waiting,’ Adamik said.
‘Well, you’re here now.’
‘Have you got everything?’
‘The clothing is in the chapel. You can change in there. Here are your papers. I’ve lifted some floorboards – put the uniforms under and I’ll nail them down later. Best not to leave them lying around. The army are digging in further up the valley but the ice on the reservoir will bear your weight.’
One of the Ukrainians laughed quietly. A sound of delight – joy, almost. As if he thought he could just take off the green-grey tunic, put on some old clothes and all would be well with the world – as if the past were something a man could choose to forget or to invent as it suited him.
‘And?’
‘Here.’
Brandt handed the envelopes over. The SS man made a show of counting the money. Then weighing the teeth in his hand. He smiled.
‘What about our rifles?’
‘They can go with the uniforms. Leave them against the wall.’
The women were staring at him as though they didn’t believe he existed.
‘Didn’t I tell you things would take a turn for the better?’ Brandt said.
The women said nothing and he didn’t expect them to, not in front of the guards. But when he led them into the trees, using the lantern to show the way, they were still silent, and it bothered him. He wasn’t sure what he expected from them – there wasn’t time for conversation – but still.
‘Here it is,’ he said, and showed them the low wooden building, not much taller than he was. It was hidden in the trees. Even now, the roof was sound and it was as good a place as any to hide five women. He had made sure of it over the summer, fixing the windows and replacing rotten planks. He pushed open the door.
‘It’s not warm, but it’s dry – more or less – and we have plenty of blankets for you. Some mattresses to lie on as well. You can’t start a fire, of course, or have light – but, well, it’s safe enough, I should think. There’s no one left to come looking for you, after all.’
As if to give the lie to this, a branch cracked outside and they all turned at once. A figure appeared in the doorway, too small to be a soldier.
‘Paul?’
Monika. She must have been waiting in the trees, ready to make a quick escape if his plans had gone awry.
‘This is my sister, Monika. She’ll do what she can for you.’
The women still hadn’t spoken. They seemed incapable of speech.
‘Paul,’ Monika said again, her voice sounding distorted, as if something were holding her mouth in a strange shape. He turned to examine her. She appeared frightened, more so than she should be.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s Hubert. He’s been detained by Weber.’
He took hold of her arm, reassuring her, he hoped.
‘Where?’
‘Near home. We were on our way here.’
‘Did Weber see you?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘But he knew who Hubert was.’
‘He must do.’
Brandt handed her the lantern, then turned to the women.
‘I have to go. One of us will check on you as soon as we can. Monika, if you see Pavel, tell him to stay away from the roads until this is over.’
He caught Agneta’s eye and did his best to smile.
‘I have to go, but I hope we’ll have a cup of real coffee again one day. Perhaps in Austria? In front of the Hotel Imperial.’
Agneta nodded, but said nothing. And, anyway, there wasn’t time for talk.
§
The Ukrainians were waiting for Brandt when he reached the wagon – dressed, he could see by the weak lantern light, in the clothing of various members of the Brandt family. He put his hand in his pocket, Jäger’s automatic warm in his hand.
‘Well?’ he said as he neared them. ‘Shouldn’t you be off?’
‘We’re going. We just wanted to thank you.’
Brandt stopped in his tracks, considering Adamik’s outstretched hand. If he took it, and it was held, he’d be defenceless. He hesitated.
‘Don’t worry, Brandt. We mean you no harm.’
‘I’m not worried,’ Brandt lied.
Adamik’s grip was firm, and Brandt got his hand back. The others offered theirs in turn. Afterwards they stood in an awkward semicircle, facing him.
‘Well, then,’ Adamik said. ‘We have plenty of distance to cover by morning.’
He watched them until they were out of sight. He was glad they carried with them the small clots of gold mined from the teeth of the dead and the money that hadn’t belonged to him. They had left their rifles leaning against the wall of the chapel and he took them inside, pushing them in with the uniforms and then hammering the floorboards back into place. When he was finished, he pressed his foot down – no creak, no movement. They might never be found.
Outside, he pulled himself up to the wagon’s seat and with a click of his tongue and a flick of the traces, he pointed the horse in the direction of the hut. More than once he expected to see armed men coming out of the trees, so strong was the impression that he was being watched. But there was no one.
He had done it.