Shrouded In Silence

Part Two

Night Darkens





15





The consistent clatter of the train's wheels against the tracks irritated the young German. The beat of steel against steel resounded like the echo of a judge's gavel pounding out judgment, condemning Klaus to torture and perdition.

It came again and again. No escape. No escape. No escape. No escape.

The clamor wouldn't stop.

Killing a Roman Catholic priest in Italy had to be the worst crime of the century, but even worse, the death had never been his intention. How in God's name could he have done such a thing? The mess started in that diabolical church crypt where they propped up horrid skeletons with bones sticking out like party favors to entice ghouls showing up in the middle of the night. The Capuchin monks surely had draconian intentions when they started placing those skulls around like Halloween decorations to terrify children.

Sure he was superstitious, but Klaus Burchel hadn't dreamed the ghostly sights could scramble his brains. Skeletal fingers dangling from a rotting brown robe like dirty icicles made his blood run cold. The black, empty eyes of those yellowing skulls had peered into his soul and found it as empty as were those ancient craniums. Every inch of that basement had been a horror show that left him terror-crazed.

And when that priest showed up in front of the house with a hood over his head, the padre had looked like death creeping after Klaus. The shock of a ghastly, shrouded apparition shot the knife forward more by reflex than by design. He had stabbed the Holy Joe basically because the bum shocked him. Good God! Who wouldn't? Having a ghost confront you in the middle of the night would send anyone running for a meat cleaver! The killing had been purely an accident brought on by that old fool appearing out of the darkness. But, it was done. Finished. Over.

The constant rumble of the train felt like a runaway drill pounding in his head. It made him want to jump up and leap off the coach at the next terminal, but he couldn't. Once Stein found out about the killing, he'd probably turn him in just to save Stein's own hide. The worthless man had the money to cover his problems, but certainly not Klaus's. The only alternative that he could see was to flee the country, even if the police in Germany might still be after him.

At the German border they would check his passport, and then again, they might not. Smearing some makeup over the scar on his cheek should cover that aspect of his identity. They'd gotten somewhat lax last time he went through, but one could never tell. Changing to the Euro hadn't affected many aspects of crossing borders. Being able to have his passport changed in Italy from Klaus Baer to the name Klaus Burchel had taken the pressure off, but one could never tell about how these matters would turn out. The German government didn't take any crime lightly, and when it had political ramifications, the police turned into fierce watchdogs.

Klaus could almost hear the voice of neo-Nazi–leader Heinrich Bruno telling him that an attack on the municipal offices in Munich would make him a hero of the people. His family had the background that would resonate with the grumbling masses. Too many people were struggling financially not to listen to a new voice calling for a redress of their grievances. After all, Hitler had begun this way. Why couldn't he? Bruno had been convinced it was the right moment for the neo-Nazis to rise up again. It had all seemed so right.

Break in. Destroy files. Leave their mark behind. Attack. Be fearless!

It sounded promising, until a police car pulled up in the front windows in the middle of the night and sent Heinrich Bruno running. All hell broke loose when one of the other men had foolishly shot at a policeman and hit him in the shoulder. Only by a quirk of fate had Klaus found a side door and escaped down a narrow alley before the police came around the building.

Far from thinking him a hero, Klaus's parents had hustled him onto a train and out of the country. Only after he arrived in Rome had he been able to work out a new passport with a different name, but it had cost a bundle. How had Stein figured out enough of this problem to discover his true identity? The scum bag obviously had connections up to the very top of the German government. It was even more staggering that Stein had discovered the name of his grandfather.



The train slowed to a stop for crossing the border into Switzerland. The Swiss always took the border entries more seriously than the Germans, and Klaus knew they would make a check of his passport, so he pulled it out and stood up to get in line for the control. Out the window, he could see the snow-covered mountains and the towering peaks. The sight impressed him and momentarily took his mind off what the passport control might say about him. With makeup over the scar on his cheek, he pulled his hat low, hoping to further cover the area. Stepping out into the cold mountain air on the station platform, he hurried inside the small building where it was warm. Only three people were ahead of him in line and he quickly passed to the front. Even at this hour, the passport officer looked bored and didn't hesitate to stamp his passport. Klaus quickly got back to this seat on the train. The coach started moving again, and they were on their way.

The train began winding its way down the mountain tracks that would eventually carry him through Switzerland and into Germany. At Bern, he would change to a train that would take him to Zurich and then on toward Munich. Of course, his parents would be surprised and pleased to see him, but he had given them no hint of returning. Possibly the confrontation at the Munich City Hall had blown over; possibly not. He couldn't chance a mistake.

If there was an explosion, it would be because his family name would ignite the fuse. The name Baer could blow holes in walls. Many people in Germany were named Baer, but none had the connection that he did to Richard Baer. After the war, his grandfather had gone into hiding and worked as a woodsman in the Hamburg area for a number of years. Then someone who didn't like the Nazis turned him in, and the new government captured him in December l960. Three years later, Grandfather Baer died in prison. By that time, the Baer name had become onerous in Germany history.

Klaus both admired what his grandfather had done and felt apprehension about what could follow from those actions. After all, killing Jews no longer had the popularity it once did. It wasn't easy being the grandson of the last SS-Sturmbannfuhrer, the commandant, of Auschwitz Concentration Camp.