Read Online Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) by J Robert Kennedy - Free Book Online

developed a taste for while here, one he feared he’d
never be able to continue when he returned home.
    If
you don’t find that damned portrait, you won’t need to worry about going home.
    He
wondered how long Dr. Mengele would tolerate failure. He doubted long. He
couldn’t expect to be simply exiled to Rome. Eventually he’d be called back to
Berlin to explain himself, then probably sent to one of the good doctor’s
laboratories, to be experimented on.
    He
shivered, setting aside his cup.
    He
closed his eyes and there was a sudden knock on the door, startling him awake.
He checked the clock to see how long he had been out.
    Almost
an hour.
    He
hadn’t realized how exhausted he was, his chase after the portrait now in its
third day with only a few hours sleep squeezed in while travelling. Luzzatto stood
in the doorway, holding several file folders.
    “I have
what you asked for, sir.”
    Heidrich
motioned for Luzzatto to hand the files over. He flipped the first one open as Luzzatto
gave him a summary.
    “Lt. Lupo.
He’s the one she identified. He’s on duty now. I’m having him picked up. He
should be here shortly.”
    Heidrich
cursed. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
    Luzzatto
immediately paled. “Why?”
    “We
should be following him, to see where he goes. Picking him up means any chance
of finding out who he’s involved with is now impossible.”
    “I-I’ll
call it off.” Luzzatto turned to leave when Heidrich waved off his departure
with a flick of the wrist. “No point. It went out over the radio, I assume?”
    Luzzatto
nodded.
    “Then he
knows, or someone he’s connected with knows.”
    “I-I’m
sorry, sir.”
    A young
officer poked his head inside the office. “Excuse me, sirs, but Lt. Lupo is
here.”
    Heidrich
rose, straightening his uniform before grabbing his hat. “Let’s see what he has
to say for himself.”
    He
stepped out into the hallway to see the officer being led down the hallway,
flanked by two of his colleagues. Lupo didn’t seem nervous at all, there no
fear in his eyes. He stared directly at Heidrich as he approached, a slight
smile on his face.
    We’ll
see if you’re smiling after I’m done with you.
    Three
gunshots rang out from behind him. Heidrich stepped to the side, his head
spinning toward the shooter as he reached for his own weapon. But it was too
late. The man turned the gun on himself, tearing a hole through his own head
before collapsing to the floor. Heidrich turned back to see Lupo on the ground,
a large pool of blood oozing out on the tile floor, the same smile still on his
face, as if he died contented.
    Heidrich
leaned over and tore open the Lupo’s shirt, but found no tattoo.
    He
stood, cursing as he looked from one body to the other, realizing his case had
just died with these two men.
    Two men
willing to die for their cause.
    A cause
he knew nothing about.
    Except
that it had just sealed his own death warrant.
     
     

 
     

    Reich Air Ministry, Berlin, Nazi Germany
April 4 th , 1945
One month before the official surrender of Nazi Germany
     
    Heidrich resisted cringing as the Russian shells bombarded the city
overhead. Germany had lost, yet the Führer held on, refusing to admit defeat.
    And it
was the people who were paying the price for it.
    And Heidrich
felt no sympathy.
    If the
people had been more committed to the war effort, had thrown themselves into
the fight as he had, body and soul, Germany would have been victorious, of that
he had no doubt.
    She had
to win, for she was the home of the Master Race.
    A home
overrun with vermin who had weakened her in her time of need.
    They had
exterminated over eleven million, displaced millions more, and if they had just
had another few years, the final solution would have been successfully
completed, and the world a better place for it.
    And then
phase two could have begun.
    For the
problem went far beyond the Jews and the Gypsies. They were merely the tip of
the iceberg. Russians, Africans,