| Subject: Waiting...Eleven |
Author:
Enjoue`
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 08:08:12 03/05/01 Mon
In reply to:
Enjoue`
's message, "Waiting...by Enjoue`" on 07:14:24 03/05/01 Mon
ELEVEN
He sat in the chair, in the room, without fear.
His head was still covered with the black hood he had worn from the moment Michael and Nikita had loaded him into the van. They had roared away from the burning building only just ahead of a mammoth explosion which hurled chunks of masonry to both ends of the block.
While the others watched from the observation room, Madeline entered, crossed to the chair and pulled off the hood. Huber blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light. They looked at each other. She, measuring. He, only curious.
“Welcome to Section One, Mr. Huber.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding slightly. “Yes, you have made me feel…welcome.” He made a gesture with his bound hands, ironically illustrating the point.
Madeline assumed her standard cool, no-nonsense approach. “We would like some information from you, Mr. Huber. I will expect complete answers without any attempt at evasion.” She opened an instrument case on the stand next to his chair, then fixed him with an icy gaze that normally evoked reactions ranging from mild shaking to loss of bladder control. Huber looked into the case then back at Madeline.
He laughed.
“What is your name?” he inquired mildly.
She considered him for a moment, then replied simply, “Madeline.”
“Well, then, Madeline. You can put away your toys because I shall only too happily tell you everything you wish to know - and a great deal more you would never think to ask.”
His voice was soft and marked by a distinct German accent. His faded blue eyes were calm, as if he had completed something very important and was now drained and serene. With the removal of the hood, his close-cropped white hair stuck up here and there, boyishly.
Madeline stared back at him for several moments and he made no effort to evade her gaze. She spoke one word: “Michael.” Then she reached down and began releasing Bernhard Huber from the arm and leg restraints.
As she did so, the door to the room swung silently open and Michael entered. He took up a position just inside the door, saying nothing.
“Let us begin, Mr. Huber,” Madeline said, “with what happened on the Rue Vavin.”
“Yes.” He paused and rubbed his wrist. “Well, I burned
them, you see.” He looked into her eyes. “I burned them just as was done to the millions of Jews in the camps.” He smiled a little. “A fitting end. Do you not agree?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Start at the beginning, Mr. Huber.” She braced her feet a little apart and crossed her arms, assuming a position that clearly said and don't leave anything out.
Huber sighed. “Do you mind if I get up? I feel more comfortable if I can walk a little.” He paused, his expression disarming. “I hope to convince you that I am here willingly. If you are what I believe you to be, we will have much to say to one another. Much to say.” He asked again, “May I get up?”
With an imperceptible glance at Michael, Madeline nodded.
Huber rose stiffly and, after a quick perusal of the small space, folded his fingers together and began simultaneously to pace and talk.
“I became part of the ugliness early on, as a youth. Oh, at first I didn’t know it was ugly. We were young, it was a grand cause and we were blind with patriotism and love for our Fuhrer. We didn’t think. We didn’t know how. But as I got older I began to understand things. To ask questions. I wanted to go to the camps, to see for myself if what I’d heard was true. They told me, No – don’t go.”
He stopped and looked at her. “I went anyway.”
The pacing resumed and he shook his head at the memories. “I cannot tell you even now what I saw there. Words…fail to describe. Emotions…fail to comprehend.” As he walked they could see tears form and hang, unshed. “I was sick to my soul at the reality of what had been brought about. I had never known that human beings were capable of this type of thinking.”
He faced her again, his expression livened and loathing. “And I…I was a part of the mechanism that wrought this profanity! Even as Germany lost the war, we, some of us, were already plotting a way to continue our machinations. We called ourselves ‘Aufwartung’,” he added bitterly. “Waiting. Like some kind of child’s secret code. But I had seen. Mein Gott…I had seen the deaths and the deaths and the deaths. Not only in the camps, but on the battlefields and in the cities and the villages….”
He leaned his hands on the back of the chair and hung his head. “And I was a part of it. If I had turned against them at that time, they would have killed me. If I had tried to find asylum in England or the United States, no one would have believed me. The only way was to remain a key member of the group. The only way was to make myself above suspicion. I dedicated my life to maintaining a position in this organization that would someday allow me to destroy it utterly.”
Finally he raised his head and looked at them, wrung out. His voice was now a near whisper. “I had to do it for myself. And for the millions upon millions who were murdered. And for all of Germany, which will live forever with the detestable stain of Naziism upon its history.”
At last he fell silent. Slowly, he shuffled around the chair and let himself sink slowly to the seat. His hands covered his face. The only sound in the room was the uneven rasp of his breathing.
For a long time Madeline stood looking down at the bent white head, stilled by a visceral understanding of his purpose and sacrifice. At least in Section, her own life dedicated to serving what she perceived as the greater good, she had been surrounded by others of like mind. Huber had been absolutely, terrifyingly alone.
Finally she turned to Michael. “Please take Mr. Huber to whatever quarters are available. If he needs medication to rest see that he’s taken care of. We’ll need to talk more. Later.”
Michael nodded, and with a quiet word, lent his strong arm to the tired old man in the chair. Together they made their way slowly from the room.
* * *
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 