Macurdy sat calmly through the hours, aware when midnight came and passed, and after a bit stood up without stiffness in knees or ankles. Using his penlight, he went to the switch and turned on the light, then put the towel in place. Next he cut a TNT block into four cubes, cut four short lengths of fuse and capped them with detonators, pressed a detonator into each cube, and put all four quarter-pound bombs inside his tunic. His remaining K rations he distributed in pockets.
Finally he lit the long fuse, turned out the light and left the room. He had only one thing more to accomplish-blow the magazines as quickly as possible, before something went irretrievably wrong.
At the north ell he paused a moment, peering around the corner at the guards outside the magazines. No longer bored or heedless, they were looking in his direction, submachine guns ready. He drew his.45. If he stepped out and snapped off two quick shots on target… But only one of the two needed to fire a burst in his direction, and even unaimed… Any significant wound would be deadly. So he compromised: His.45 ready but silent, he stepped out and started toward them.
It was obvious at once they didn't see him, but every step of the way he half-expected at least one of them to start firing. Both stood in mid-corridor, so he moved along one wall, and when he reached them, slipped by slowly, to avoid making an eddy of air. His senses were preternaturally sharp; he smelled his own stale sweat, with a lingering trace of cow manure, and wondered that the two Germans didn't. Ten feet past them he speeded up, and at the end of the corridor, opened the door to the room nearest the entryway. Then, quiet he lifted the bar from the exit door, took it into the room, laid it by the wall, and stepped back into the corridor.
A hundred feet away, the magazine guards still stood with their backs to him. His.45 boomed twice, the shots so close together, the second man had hardly started to turn before a heavy slug smashed through a rib into the heart. Both men fell without firing.
Turning, Macurdy pushed open the entryway door, and with as little Baltic accent as he could manage, called: "For the love of God, come quickly!", then stepped back out of the way. He heard a brief exchange above the entryway, then one man ran down. As he passed, Macurdy shot him too, then stepped back into the room, took out one of his small, short-fuse blocks of TNT and lit it, intending to throw it out of the entryway and take out the other guard. With an eye on the sparking fuse, he stepped into the corridor-colliding with the other guard, who'd heard the unfamiliar boom of the.45, and after brief indecision, had run down to back up his buddy.
Both men recoiled with shock, then Macurdy pounced, at the same time tossing the block of TNT into the entryway. Wrapping powerful arms around the guardsman, he pinned the submachine gun between them, and wrestled him against the wall, out of line with the door. Felt, heard, smelled the man's weapon fire, bullets pocking the concrete near their feet. Squeezing with more strength than he knew he had- strength multiplied by desperation-he compressed the man's rib cage. For a long moment they struggled, the man's eyes bulging, then Macurdy found an added surge of strength, felt the man go limp, and staggered with him into the corner next to the entryway door. A quarter pound of TNT exploded just outside it. Macurdy let the German fall, and picking up the man's submachine gun, pointed it at him and squeezed the trigger, three rounds slamming into the fallen guard before the gun was empty.
Meanwhile there'd been a shout from somewhere up the corridor. Picking up the other guard's submachine gun, Macurdy started toward the magazines at a lope, then became aware of boots pounding on concrete, running toward the ell, so he slipped through an unlocked door, leaving a crack to peer through.
Landgraf himself rounded the ell first, followed by four guardsmen. An image imprinted on Macurdy's mind, of the colonel, tall riding boots freshly shined and a Luger in his hand. The others carried submachine guns. Seeing the bodies, they faltered, then one shouted, "Colonel! The door at the end of the corridor! It is open!"
The colonel led them on, half crouched now, no longer running. They'd almost reached the first two bodies when 1,800 half-kilo blocks of TNT exploded under the south wing. Even in the stone-walled cellar the sound was stupefying, and followed by the roar of floors, ceilings, roof, even sections of exterior walls collapsing into the cellar beneath. A thick cloud of dust rolled swiftly down the corridor and around the ell, and Macurdy closed his door, keeping it shut for half a minute, listening in darkness to the explosion's rumbling aftermath. Then he peered out again. The men in the corridor stood coughing in the settling dust, the colonel slightly bent, brushing it from his breeches, his tunic.
Turning to a sergeant, he chuckled. "Giesl, we are still alive! Is that not remarkable? One wonders why."
The five Germans were looking away, toward the ell.
Macurdy stepped into the corridor and fired two long bursts into them at a range of thirty feet. Then, willing his hands not to shake, he quickly picked the locks on both magazines, swung their doors open, lit the fuses on two of his remaining pieces of TNT, tossed them gently onto the two stacks of explosive-and sprinted down the corridor, up the steps of the entryway, and across dewy grass toward the trees.
He'd almost reached the forest when the north wing blew. Glass flew. The roof heaved upward. Sections of wall burst out, others, an instant later, fell inward. Macurdy sprawled headlong, hands pressed tardily to his ears.
He lay there for perhaps a minute, perhaps several, while additional stone blocks fell individually and in masses onto the rubble. Temporarily deaf, he did not hear them. Stunned but still functional, he got up, groped in a pocket, and replaced the magazine in his.45. He would not, it seemed to him, be finished until he was sure no Voitu had escaped.
PART FIVE
Escape From Victory
37
Flight
If Edouard and Berta had escaped the schloss, they should be at the forest's edge near the stable, but for now, Macurdy decided, he'd leave them there. It was more important, and more urgent, to find and kill any SS and Voitar who might have escaped. He doubted that any Voitar had; their wing had blown without warning. The SS, on the other hand, had been warned in time for at least some, perhaps most, to evacuate the building.
And it seemed to Macurdy that any who had would be in front, on the lawn or by the road, probably stunned. His cloak had persisted through the shock, and with his.45 in hand, he trotted across the turf toward the front of the building.
As he cleared the building's northwest corner, he saw auras glowing softly in the night, eight of them, almost at the road, their owners no doubt staring at the ruin some seventy yards in front of them. As he drew nearer, he saw that none were Voitar. He wished now he'd brought one of the loaded submachine guns from the cellar. From close up, he could have taken these nine from a flank with a couple of long bursts.
As it was… There were problems with using the.45. The muzzle blasts would mark his location, and one or more of the SS would have submachine guns, depending on how many had been on duty, and how many rousted out of bed by the south wing blast, to flee without stopping for weapons. And the.45's clip held only seven rounds.
Closing in, he became aware that not all were SS: He recognized Edouard's aura, and Berta's. Another, which he'd missed before, was pressed close to Berta and much smaller; Lotta's. From their auras, all nine, psychics and SS, were more or less in shock, though none seemed wounded. Both blasts had taken them by surprise, whereas he'd been prepared, as much as he could be, for the enormity of sound and destruction. And probably, hopefully, their hearing hadn't fully recovered, as his hadn't. From ten yards he coup see that both Edouard and Berta had their hands together in front of them, as if manacled.