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Gruber Residence
Berlin, Nazi Germany
February 3, 1945

 

Vogel found himself once again sitting across from Gruber, but this time there were no cigars, no snifters of cognac. Instead, he had the distinct impression Gruber might direct his men to carry out the orders probably already issued to every Gestapo agent in the Reich.

Kill Detective Inspector Wolfgang Vogel.

“There are a lot of people looking for you.” Gruber leaned back in his chair. “I must admit, I never thought you had it in you. Murder! Two men, including an SS colonel, no less!”

Vogel was impressed at how well informed Gruber was, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. The man had his fingers in so many pies, so many people on his payroll, he doubted there was little that went on in the Reich without his knowledge.

Though perhaps there was one thing.

“I had no choice. It was him or me.”

“And why was that?”

“Because I saw something I wasn’t supposed to.”

“And what was that?”

He had no idea, but he couldn’t let Gruber know that. It was the only card he held. “I’ll tell you when I’m with my family.”

Gruber chuckled. “I’ve already moved two people for you, with what is now a worthless promise. You’ll be dead before the war is out, and dead men don’t make good witnesses at trials.”

“Only if I’m caught. If you get me to my family, then I’ll still be alive to testify on your behalf.”

“You shot an SS colonel. If I’m caught trying to move you, not even my father will be able to protect me.” Gruber shook his head. “No, you’re too hot. In fact, I think it’s best I build a little more goodwill.” He flicked his wrist. “Take him to Gestapo headquarters.”

Two of Gruber’s men stepped forward, hauling him out of his seat.

“Wait! Don’t you want to know what I found?”

“Not interested.”

The men continued to drag him toward the door, Gruber already turning his back on him. “A train full of gold!”

Gruber’s chair stopped spinning and he raised a hand, his men pausing. “How much gold?”

Vogel shook the two men off, returning to his chair, resting his hands on the back as he leaned in toward a reengaged Gruber. “At least an entire boxcar worth, probably more. I only had time to see the one before the colonel caught me.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“Why else would the SS want me dead?”

“Because you killed one of their own!”

“No, the only reason I killed him was because he already wanted me dead. Like I said before, it was him or me. I killed him to save my own life, and he wanted me dead because I found his gold.”

“Where?”

Vogel smiled. “Get me to my family, and I’ll give you the location. You’ll be richer than you could have ever imagined.”

Gruber leaned back in his chair, then clapped, slowly, deliberately, shaking his head. He rose and extended a hand. “Well played, Detective Inspector. Very well played.”