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Authors: Robert Ludlum
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stubborn about being stubborn.”
For a few minutes neither man spoke. Finally Gregor Strasser answered the American in a quiet voice. “We did not lose the war. We were betrayed.”
“Sure. The bullets were blanks and your artillery backfired. I’m going to sleep.”
The German officer spoke softly, as if to himself. “Many bullets were in empty cartridges. Many weapons did malfunction.… Betrayal.…”
Along the road several trucks lumbered out of Villers-Cotterêts followed by horses pulling caissons. The lights of the trucks danced flickeringly up and down. The animals whinnied; a few soldiers shouted at their charges.
More poor, stupid bastards, thought Ulster Scarlett as he watched from his sanctuary. “Hey, Strasser, what happens now?” Scarlett turned to his fellow deserter.
“Was ist?” Strasser had catnapped. He was furious with himself. “You speak?”
“Just wanted you to know I could have jumped you.… I asked you what happens now? I mean to you?… I know what happens to us. Parades, I guess. What about you?”
“No parades. No celebrations.… Much weeping. Much recrimination. Much drunkenness.… Many will be desperate.… Many will be killed also. You may be assured of that.”
“Who? Who’s going to be killed?”
“The traitors among us. They will be searched out and destroyed without mercy.”
“You’re crazy! I said you were crazy before and now I know it!”
“What would you have us do? You haven’t been infected yet. But you will be!… The Bolsheviks! They are at our borders and they infiltrate! They eat away at our core! They rot inside us!… And the Jews! The Jews in Berlin make fortunes out of this war! The filthy Jew profiteers! The conniving Semites sell us out today, youtomorrow!… The Jews, the Bolsheviks, the stinking little people! We are all their victims and we do not know it! We fight each other when we should be fighting them!”
Ulster Scarlett spat. The son of Scarlatti was not interested in the problems of ordinary men. Ordinary men did not concern him.
And yet he was troubled.
Strasser was not an ordinary man. The arrogant German officer hated the ordinary man as much as he did. “What are you going to do when you shovel these people under ground? Play king of the mountain?”
“Of many mountains.… Of many, many mountains.”
Scarlett rolled over away from the German officer.
But he did not close his eyes.
Of many, many mountains.
Ulster Scarlett had never thought of such a domain.… Scarlatti made millions upon millions but Scarlatti did not rule. Especially the sons of Scarlatti. They would never rule.… Elizabeth had made that clear.
“Strasser?”
“Yah?”
“Who are these people? Your people?”
“Dedicated men. Powerful men. The names can not be spoken of. Committed to rise out of defeat and unite the elite of Europe.”
Scarlett turned his face up to the sky. Stars flickered through the low-flying gray clouds. Gray, black, dots of shimmering white.
“Strasser?”
“Was ist?”
“Where will you go? After it’s over, I mean.”
“To Heidenheim. My family lives there.”
“Where is it?”
“Halfway between Munich and Stuttgart.” The German officer looked at the strange, huge American deserter. Deserter, murderer, aider and abettor of his enemy.
“We’ll be in Paris tomorrow night. I’ll get you your money. There’s a man in Argenteuil who keeps money for me.”
“Danke.”
Ulster Scarlett shifted his body. The earth was next to his face, and the smell was clean.
“Just … Strasser, Heidenheim. That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“Give me a name, Strasser.”
“What do you mean? Give you a name?”
“Just that. A name you’ll know is me when I get in touch with you.”
Strasser thought for a moment. “Very well,
Amerikaner.
Let’s choose a name you should find hard to forget—Kroeger.”
“Who?”
“Kroeger—Corporal Heinrich Kroeger, whose head you shot off in the
For a few minutes neither man spoke. Finally Gregor Strasser answered the American in a quiet voice. “We did not lose the war. We were betrayed.”
“Sure. The bullets were blanks and your artillery backfired. I’m going to sleep.”
The German officer spoke softly, as if to himself. “Many bullets were in empty cartridges. Many weapons did malfunction.… Betrayal.…”
Along the road several trucks lumbered out of Villers-Cotterêts followed by horses pulling caissons. The lights of the trucks danced flickeringly up and down. The animals whinnied; a few soldiers shouted at their charges.
More poor, stupid bastards, thought Ulster Scarlett as he watched from his sanctuary. “Hey, Strasser, what happens now?” Scarlett turned to his fellow deserter.
“Was ist?” Strasser had catnapped. He was furious with himself. “You speak?”
“Just wanted you to know I could have jumped you.… I asked you what happens now? I mean to you?… I know what happens to us. Parades, I guess. What about you?”
“No parades. No celebrations.… Much weeping. Much recrimination. Much drunkenness.… Many will be desperate.… Many will be killed also. You may be assured of that.”
“Who? Who’s going to be killed?”
“The traitors among us. They will be searched out and destroyed without mercy.”
“You’re crazy! I said you were crazy before and now I know it!”
“What would you have us do? You haven’t been infected yet. But you will be!… The Bolsheviks! They are at our borders and they infiltrate! They eat away at our core! They rot inside us!… And the Jews! The Jews in Berlin make fortunes out of this war! The filthy Jew profiteers! The conniving Semites sell us out today, youtomorrow!… The Jews, the Bolsheviks, the stinking little people! We are all their victims and we do not know it! We fight each other when we should be fighting them!”
Ulster Scarlett spat. The son of Scarlatti was not interested in the problems of ordinary men. Ordinary men did not concern him.
And yet he was troubled.
Strasser was not an ordinary man. The arrogant German officer hated the ordinary man as much as he did. “What are you going to do when you shovel these people under ground? Play king of the mountain?”
“Of many mountains.… Of many, many mountains.”
Scarlett rolled over away from the German officer.
But he did not close his eyes.
Of many, many mountains.
Ulster Scarlett had never thought of such a domain.… Scarlatti made millions upon millions but Scarlatti did not rule. Especially the sons of Scarlatti. They would never rule.… Elizabeth had made that clear.
“Strasser?”
“Yah?”
“Who are these people? Your people?”
“Dedicated men. Powerful men. The names can not be spoken of. Committed to rise out of defeat and unite the elite of Europe.”
Scarlett turned his face up to the sky. Stars flickered through the low-flying gray clouds. Gray, black, dots of shimmering white.
“Strasser?”
“Was ist?”
“Where will you go? After it’s over, I mean.”
“To Heidenheim. My family lives there.”
“Where is it?”
“Halfway between Munich and Stuttgart.” The German officer looked at the strange, huge American deserter. Deserter, murderer, aider and abettor of his enemy.
“We’ll be in Paris tomorrow night. I’ll get you your money. There’s a man in Argenteuil who keeps money for me.”
“Danke.”
Ulster Scarlett shifted his body. The earth was next to his face, and the smell was clean.
“Just … Strasser, Heidenheim. That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“Give me a name, Strasser.”
“What do you mean? Give you a name?”
“Just that. A name you’ll know is me when I get in touch with you.”
Strasser thought for a moment. “Very well,
Amerikaner.
Let’s choose a name you should find hard to forget—Kroeger.”
“Who?”
“Kroeger—Corporal Heinrich Kroeger, whose head you shot off in the
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