49

The Ukrainian SS guard pulled back the gate. Anvil and Spangler entered the sprawling Canada complex and walked briskly up the path. SS sentries were nowhere to be seen as they approached the long, high-roofed building known as the Finishing School.

Anvil and Spangler circled the line of Kapos and “suppliers” presenting their special passes at the entrance and went in through a side door. The main room stretched sixty feet and was forty feet wide. Massive lights and wires dangled from the thirty-foot ceiling. Motion-picture cameras, stanchions, floor lights and other equipment spread across the concrete floor.

“Wait up there until you’re called,” Anvil said, pointing to a line of chairs against the far wall. Then he disappeared behind a row of packing cases.

Spangler took a seat among the ever-growing audience of privileged prisoners hurrying in from the main entrance. Technicians were adding the final touches to a set depicting a huge and ornate jungle cave with tiers of wide roughhewn steps. Tolan appeared and gave last-minute instructions. Props were realigned and the torches in the cave lit. The powerful stage lights were switched on. A group of large, pug-faced women costumed as bare-breasted Amazons strode onto the set as the prisoner audience cheered and whistled.

“The women guards,” a Kapo next to Spangler whispered excitedly with a nudge of the elbow. “That means a Lesbian show. We haven’t had one for a long time.”

Tolan barked an order and moved behind a big motion-picture camera. The Amazons formed a corridor leading up the cave steps. At the top stood the largest, and conceivably the ugliest, woman Spangler had ever seen. Her powerful legs were bound in Roman sandal straps. A short tunic barely covered her pelvis. The muscular arms were strapped in leather. One masculine fist clenched a whip, the other a steel rod. Link chains were draped around the bull shoulders, partially obscuring the enormous naked bosom. To her side stood a rack, an iron maiden and a glowing oven in which several iron prongs were being heated.

The second cheer from the audience was louder still. As Spangler watched, six girls from sixteen to eighteen years old were being pulled forward by even more Amazons. The girls wore fifteenth-century Spanish finery; all had braided hair.

“Virgins,” the Kapo whispered ecstatically to Spangler. “The rumor is they’re all virgins this time. That ought to be something.”

The Amazon priestess looked over the crop of terrified girls and pointed to one. She was dragged up the steps and forced to kneel. The Amazon lifted her tunic and snapped an order. The girl froze, then suddenly broke away and bolted hysterically through a line of attendants, upsetting torches and collapsing a section of scenery.

“Get me six new ones,” Tolan shouted in disgust. “Six new ones who’ll do what they’re supposed to! And fix the scenery,” he shouted, storming off behind the packing cases.

The five remaining girls were stripped of their costumes and hurled into the audience of cheering prisoners.

Anvil returned, drew Spangler from his seat and led him down a hallway and into a room where Kapo leaders sat crowded on benches.

Klempf entered a few moments later, took a rigid stance and hooked a thumb under his belt. “The time for pretense has passed,” he began curtly. “I know that you here represent the major force in the camp underground. I have always known it. You have existed only because I chose to let you exist—only because I felt one day your services might be required. I am afraid that day is upon us.

“The latest report from the eastern front indicates that the Wehrmacht counterattack has failed to stem the Russian offensive. The Reich’s northern defense lines have been annihilated, and the Russians are now swarming down through Poland. Advance units have already crossed the Nida, less than a hundred and forty miles east of here. It is expected that the Russians will be at Cracow within a week and will reach us the following day.

“Needless to say, if the Russians overrun Auschwitz-Birkenau before the installations can be evacuated, if the Russians see what has taken place here—well, that wouldn’t be very good for the SS or the Kapos, would it?

“I include you Kapos along with the SS for one very simple reason: once the Russians enter Auschwitz-Birkenau and start talking to ordinary prisoners, they will realize that, for all practical purposes, it is you who have been running the camp; they will see how you have treated your fellow inmates. When that happens you may be even worse off than we SS. Your paltry underground activities will not help you.

“Had Berlin taken any logical action to meet this peril I wouldn’t be here talking to you now. Berlin, it appears, has not only ignored our plight, but has openly decided to worsen it. As of four hours ago, transport into Birkenau has been increased. When the commandant protested that the crematoria and the pits can’t handle what we have, Berlin was deaf and still insisted on adding eighteen additional trainloads to this week’s schedule.

“Berlin’s orders to the SS here at Auschwitz-Birkenau were received early this morning. No one is to leave his station. No preparations are to be made for evacuation. To make sure we comply with the orders, Berlin has deployed Waffen-SS troops in the immediate vicinity—but luckily there are not very many of them—so far.

“In a word, Berlin has signed a death warrant for every SS and Kapo at Auschwitz-Birkenau. But that is not the end of it, not for us here in this room. The commandant has no intention of remaining. He and his staff have already made arrangements to flee when the Russians reach Cracow. Mengele and his medical aides have made similar plans. Cars have been requisitioned and prepared.

“The commandant and Mengele met secretly several hours ago. They have concocted a plot to shift their guilt to others—to divest themselves of as much responsibility for camp activities as they can before they leave. They have agreed to make it seem that the true persecutors of prisoners at Auschwitz-Birkenau are the Bourse and other exchanges, the bordellos, and so on. To be more precise, they have decided that the men in this room and those connected with us, both Kapo and SS, are to be the sacrificial goats.

“On the commandant’s order, SD and Gestapo agents have already opened an investigation and are collecting evidence against us. More agents are on their way. The commandant prefers everything to be legal. If by some miracle the Russians are checked, he can simply put his findings in a drawer and save them until he needs them again. After all, who will run the camp if he does away with us?

“Should the Russian advance continue at its present speed, the commandant will have us arrested, tried and found guilty. Whether he shoots us on the spot or turns us over to the prisoners to hold for the Russians makes very little difference in my eyes.

“So there you have it. Not only must we worry about the Russian advance, we must avoid the SD and Gestapo as well. Under the circumstances, I see no alternative but to emulate the commandant and Mengele: we must escape as soon as possible.”

“Where to?” asked one of the Kapos.

“The Russian lines.”

“How?”

“I have already worked out the details, but for the sake of security they must remain with me. What I now propose is an alliance between all of you here, as well as those involved with you, and myself and my men. I must insist, however, on having full control of the operation. If you wish to designate one of your number, I will take him as my personal aide and advise him of the details. But only he and I must know the total plan. I will wait outside for your answer,” Klempf said, and stepped out the door.

Discussion was brief. Klempf was called back. The Kapos agreed to the alliance and named Tolan as their representative.

“We will go out as prisoners,” Klempf said to Tolan, handing him a list. “These are the supplies we need. They can be collected through the exchanges without causing suspicion. The last bit of business for tonight is assigned to you.” Klempf added, turning and dropping a thumb at Spangler. “You will kill Vassili.”

“Why?” said Spangler.

“We don’t question orders here,” Tolan snapped.

“Let him ask, let him ask,” Klempf said quietly as he studied Spangler. “First of all, Vassili is an SD agent. They planted him here from the beginning. Therefore we must rid ourselves of him. Since you’re expected to kill him anyway, no one, especially the SD, will be suspicious when you do. If someone else ended his life, questions might arise.

“Secondly, I don’t know anything about you. You just arrived. I haven’t had time to check you out. For all we know you may be another one of the undercover men the SD has been trying to send in for the last few weeks. There is no better way of finding out whose side you’re on than by letting you take care of Vassili. I doubt whether one SD agent would kill another. You will do the job the day after tomorrow. I don’t want it to be connected with our little gathering tonight—just in case someone may be watching. And when you murder him, do it out in the open where you have a good many witnesses.”