A Succession of Questions (Concluded, Part 15B)
“Stepan?” Von Grolitz knew who he was… just not why he was here.
“General,” Colonel Breiding said, bowing to one, then the other. “General.”
His brief look of surprise or concern was wiped from von Grolitz’ face in an instant. “It is good to see you,” he nodded with a smile. “Ahh… How were you allowed in? I was introduced when I arrived.”
The colonel appeared surprised for a moment. “There was no one there…”
General Riedesel answered for him. “I’m sure he is looking for the torte I requested.” Everyone seemed roughly satisfied by his logic.
“I have been given some orders to provide to you, General.” He stepped casually closer to them – particularly to Grolitz, who eyed him warily and with a look of confusion.
“Who, specifically, gave you these orders, Colonel?” Grolitz asked. “And what were they?”
“They are,” began Breiding, “that General Spree is to march to the southwest, to be ready if the French take any action.” He had seemingly been trying to slip behind Grolitz, but the other man was fully on alert now.
Turning to face the new arrival as he rounded through the office, Grolitz asked again, with emphasis, “Who gave the order?!” Riedesel was quietly slipping toward his desk as Breiding’s movements slowed.
“Well, Chancellor Bülow, himself, Adar… Of course.” Breiding had stopped moving, realizing his acquaintance wholly doubted his sincerity.
A loud bump at the door to the office admitted a bustle of soldiers, led by Colonel Krysz Skiedweza. They immediately took stock of their surroundings, and ran forward, weapons ready. Von Grolitz, his full attention on Breiding, was stunned enough not to notice either Breiding taking the sidearm from Grolitz’ holster, or Riedesel reaching into his desk.
“Don’t move, General!” Skiedweza shouted, and Riedesel stayed his hand midway through pulling a revolver out of his drawer. He remained frozen, while Grolitz held his unspilled drink, looking around in flushed amazement at the three men – four, counting Breiding – who held him at gunpoint.
Longanecker, who had had difficulty lifting the heavy window from its sash, grunted as he finally climbed in. He was only just able to fit through. Taking his own revolver from its holster, he said, “Good work, Krysz. Now…” He surveyed the office.
“Joachim? Whatever…” Riedesel seemed genuinely confused. Perhaps a little hurt? They had been good friends… Then his eyes came to rest on Grolitz, who broadcast nervous anxiety… Realization lit his face. “Joachim! You don’t think I’m working with
him do you?” He favored Grolitz with a sneer.
“I really don’t know, old friend… What were you two discussing?”
“Well, I gathered that he was part of a plot, and that he was lying to me. So I called my assistant, and tipped him that he should call the guards…”
Just then, four armed men entered the foyer to the office. Seeing the open door, and the armed men, they shouted and ran forward. No one fired, as everyone but Grolitz was in Prussian Army blue. Who to shoot?!
Seizing his chance, Grolitz tossed his bourbon in Breiding’s eyes, with instant results. He leapt for a window – one that was fully closed – and crashed through the glass and out of sight. Two rounds from service revolvers followed after him, too late.
Longanecker and a couple others moved toward the door, but frantic nervous gestures from Riedesel’s soldiers stopped them in their tracks.
“It’s okay!” shouted the general. “Everyone here is okay, except for that man who just left!”
Immediately, the soldiers dropped their aim and allowed the team to pass, then joined to follow. Longanecker grumbled, “It might be too late, now!”
Outside the headquarters structure, Joachim rounded the corner at a dead run… And nearly ran into a mud-soaked Korenyi, who was braced for the impact. At Adalbert’s feet was the sprawled, muddy, slightly bloodied form of von Grolitz. And around them all stood four more stunned soldiers, with their weapons lying in the snow. “Good heaven,” Longanecker sighed. He looked curiously at Korenyi. “You have saved the day! What happened?”
Al, still somewhat startled, said, “Well, I was holding these guys at gunpoint,” he gestured to the guards he had waylaid. “Because they didn’t believe me that we were here with legitimate authority. Then this guy comes flying out of the window, and bowls right into me! He knocked me completely down, knocked the gun out of my hands, and knocked the breath out of me… But Riedesel shouting curses after him helped convince the guards I wasn’t lying!” He smiled, proudly. “Hey!” he shouted in amazement. “That’s von Grolitz!”
By this time, Riedesel had arrived at a jog from the front of the building. “Ahh, good.”
Von Grolitz fixed him with a nasty stare and a pointing finger. “You
knew that I was lying, and you gave a signal to call the guard. How did you know?”
“Because you are no soldier, Grolitz, and you have no idea how to pretend knowledge of the military command structure.” He glared contemptuously at the man. “And,” he turned slightly, as if this was the lesser reason, “because just before you arrived, Minister von Moltke had an attack of conscience, and called me to expose the plot.”
Longanecker’s eyebrow rose. One part of the puzzle solved.
“But,” began Breiding. He was still blinking furiously, and his eyes looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. “I am curious, too. I somehow tipped you off that I had not been dispatched from Berlin. How?”
Von Grolitz’ mood was as cold and wet as his uniform. He gave a sour grimace, and seemed not to want to answer. Then, realizing that all was lost, he saw no sense in keeping it back. “Because I spoke with the Chancellor a bare two hours ago. He was here… or nearby. He said that he and Holstein were on their way to take a tour of some facility, that they wanted me to speak to you while they were there.”
Korenyi birddogged on that comment. “Then if we handle things right, we can catch them when they return!”
“I do not think they intend to return,” Grolitz said, slowly.
“Why not?” Longanecker quizzed.
“Because the automobile was stuffed with papers.
Secret papers, I think.” In spite of his precarious situation, he smiled and chuckled at the heartburn it would cause his enemies. “I wonder who they will give them to…”
“Krysz!” Joachim said urgently. “Go telephone Berlin. Have them order all airports to be on the lookout. Train stations, et cetera. Reuben,” he said, turning to Riedesel. “Is there an airport near here?”
“Hmm… No airports, per se…” he began. Then his eyes fixed on something, and he cursed.
Longanecker braced with alertness when he saw the angry expression Riedesel cast at something over Joachim’s shoulder.
“Gott in Himmel!” one of the guards shouted.
“What on Earth is that?” Breiding muttered to himself. He was blinking to clear his eyes, unsure if the splashed bourbon was making him see things.
Joachim turned, and saw a cigar-shaped balloon drift quietly overhead, driven by four whirring propellers sped by puttering reciprocating engines…