The Haigerloch Project полностью

The door to the storeroom opened. Eichler stood in the doorway.

“You must leave here,” he said. “It will be safe. No one will come here again for a time.”

Dirk, blinking against the light in the Bauernstube, stepped from the storeroom with Sig. He saw that Frau Eichler had already brought the food out of hiding and was piling it on the table. Dull she may seem, Dirk thought, but she's sure on the ball — or whatever the saying is with a Frau…. He noticed she'd added a bottle of local huckleberry brandy to the loot.

He and Sig began to stuff the food into their knapsacks. Dirk chose one of the large bread loaves to rest on top of his radio. He pushed a sausage down beside it. And the brandy. From now on, he thought, communication with Corny will make my mouth water. He was about to share his joke with Sig when he stopped himself. After all, the Eichlers weren't co-conspirators.

The front door opened and Erika came hurrying in.

“I saw them, Vati!” she cried excitedly. “I saw them arrive. In their Wehrmacht Volkswagen. I was getting Konrad's bicycle from the harness room when they stopped on the road. I hid!”

Eichler nodded.

“Did you bring the bicycle? And the tires?”

“Yes, Vati I–I replaced the old ones already.” She threw a quick glance at Dirk.

“Good.”

Everything had been stuffed into the two rucksacks — except the eggs. Sig held the basket in his hand — undecided. Eichler watched him.

“You may keep the basket,” he said. “Bring it back next time you come. Agreed?”

“Agreed, Herr Ortsbauernführer,” Sig answered. “Thank you.”

“When will that be?” Eichler wanted to know, licking his lips.

“We shall return in two days,” Dirk said. “That is our usual schedule. Will that be convenient, Herr Ortsbauernführer?”

Eichler nodded.

“It would be well to leave a small deposit on the basket,” he said. “Ten marks?”

“Of course, Herr Ortsbauernführer. Very proper.” Dirk dug into his pocket. “Bis Übermorgen—until the day after tomorrow,” he said.

Eichler nodded.

“You will — come here, then?” He lowered his voice. He licked his lips. “We are agreed?” he said. “No longer will you go to that gauner Degener in Allmannsweier?”

“We are agreed” Dirk, too, spoke confidentially — man to man. He winked at Eichler. “A choosy dog barks up a forest full of trees before he finds one to piss on!”

Eichler nodded solemnly.

“That is true,” he said. He offered Dirk a work-hardened hand. “Auf Wiedersehen,” he said.

Dirk turned to his wife.

“Thank you again, Frau Eichler.”

The woman looked at him. Her eyes were suddenly bright with unshed tears. It is her Konrad she is saying goodbye to, Dirk thought. The woman's eyes flitted to his arm. Suddenly she gave him a brief hug.

“Sei vorsichtigt!” she whispered. “Take care….”

Dirk returned her hug.

He turned to Erika.

She was watching him.

On impulse he put his arms around her and hugged her. What the hell — the precedent had been set. He felt her stiffen — then almost at once she was straining against him. Oh, Christ, he thought. Out there is a barn full of hay….

Sig was at the door. Dirk joined him. He looked back at the Eichlers. Damned if he didn't like them — even greedy old Gerhard….

“Grüss Gott!” he said. “God be with you!”

It was Eichler who answered him.

“Heil Hitler!”

They were pedaling down the country road toward Lahr. It would soon be dawn. The bulging rucksacks were strapped to the handlebars of their bikes, the egg basket secured to the package rack behind Dirk.

Sig looked back at the Eichler farm.

He had just left ten years back there. In a cluttered, pitch-black storeroom.

He glanced at Dirk.

“I don't mind telling you,” he said, “you had me going there awhile back. When you went into that black-marketeer bit.”

“You may nominate me for an Academy Award.” Dirk grinned. He felt good. Things had turned out fine. They were on their way.

“I'll say this for you — you make one helluva subservient bastard.”

“Some first-class cringing was expected, Siggy baby,” Dirk quipped. “Remember the old French proverb? When the Hun is out and down, he's the humblest man in town. But when he mounts and holds the rod, he has no love for man or God!” He grinned broadly. “Seemed to me that as a good Kraut I'd better be damned humble. I sure wasn't holding the rod!”

Sig shook his head.

“I didn't know you were at Arnhem either,” he said.