Tomb of the Lost - By Julian Noyce Page 0,4

barked an order at them to remain as they were. Only Heydrich saluted and Hitler barely acknowledged him.

“Arrogant fool,” Von Brockhorst was thinking.

Assistants entered the room and began laying plans and documents on the table. One began serving punch but Hitler refused anything alcoholic. He had only ever gotten drunk once before in his life and vowed to never do it again.

“Good morning gentlemen,” Hitler said clasping his hands in front of him. The generals put down their drinks and nibbles and circled the table so they were all facing him. There was excitement between most of them and Hitler let them continue for a few moments.

“Gentlemen,” he said finally “let us begin.”

Von Brockhorst sat back in the leather seats of the car as he remembered the meeting, the black leather briefcase on the seat beside him. Its important documents enclosed within.

Hitler had begun the meeting pleasantly. He had been wearing a brown shirt, silk tie and a grey jacket with a red armband with a black swastika on it., black trousers and riding boots. Hitler was optimistic and in a jovial mood. Von Brockhorst felt that some of his jokes bordered on the buffoonish. He had never seen the Fuhrer in this sort of mood. When the meeting closed the Generals had begun to leave for lunch and Hitler had ordered Von Brockhorst to stay. Heydrich had intended to stay as well but Hitler had dismissed him. Hitler then revealed to Von Brockhorst a plan he was hatching.

The black Mercedes turned into the front of Wehrmacht headquarters and paused long enough for the barrier to be raised. Hard looking sentries stood on either side of the car holding onto Alsatians. The car drove around to the steps and five minutes later Von Brockhorst arrived at his temporary office. His adjutant was already there piling up the mornings post into piles. Official letters on one side, personal the other. He took one look at Von Brockhorst’s face and said.

“I’ll get you some black coffee sir.”

“And get Colonel Koenig up here at the double!” Von Brockhorst shouted at the adjutants disappearing back.

Koenig arrived quickly, saw the General’s distress, dismissed the adjutant, who couldn’t wait to get away, and poured the coffee himself.

Von Brockhorst sat himself down and shuffled through the mail on his desk. He didn’t open any of it and pushed the letters out of his way. Koenig just sat patiently and waited.

“It began well,” Von Brockhorst started “The Fuhrer was….” he paused “Different. I’ve never seen him like this. He was exciteable. First the progress of the war was discussed. The main topic being the battle of Stalingrad. Following the defeat, the disaster of Moscow, owing to the extremities of the Russian winter the Fuhrer was pleased to hear that our forces by October will be advancing towards the oilfields at Maikop….”

Koenig listened attentively without interruption. Just giving the occasional nod or smile where he deemed appropriate. Von Brockhorst went into detail a lot more than he needed to. Koenig had never been to war, in battle, seen death on a massive scale. He had spent all of his career in Berlin. He loved his job. It was easy, secure. He was a well liked officer of 35, handsome, and though unmarried he had a string of mistresses, all officers wives. Their husbands all at the front line. His friends all found it amusing but Koenig saw it as a service. Plus all of these women had their own houses or apartments making it easier for him and them. One day he was sure he would be found out but he had friends in high places. Von Brockhorst knew nothing about Koenig’s social life and he certainly wouldn’t care or be interested anyway. He the General was a professional soldier fighting a war. Koenig was sure that his secret was safe. He didn’t realise that most people who worked at Wehrmacht HQ in his department knew of the rumours about his sexual activity.

He was thinking at this moment about a Major’s wife who he would be seeing tonight. During his lunch break he would go out and buy her some black seamed silk stockings, his favourite. They would cost a fortune but he didn’t care.

’Elsa is worth it’ he told himself. He felt his loins stirring as he thought about

their love making, her enthusiasm in bed. Unknowingly he was smiling at the wall in a daydream. Von Brockhorst stopped talking. Koenig was suddenly aware that the General was frowning

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